#We can’t get a handle on this late night bear posting

[bearotonin-international]

The team is late night bear posting. Again. Shocking.

[cloudwhisper23]

I'm too lazy to format, so if you want proper formatting on this, I've posted it on Ao3! This is a continuation from the last art trade I did with @pixlokita about their Werebunny Jeremy AU (we've decided to call it Cut Right Through Me)

Below the cut is the link to the story on Ao3, and the full part that I just completed! Fair warning, this is a pretty decent length, roughly 9k words. Enjoy!

“You’re mean, you know that?” Jeremy said irritably as he dropped into the passenger seat.

“I don’t care. He’s dangerous, Jeremy.”

“Dangerous, yet you apparently have been calling him,” Jeremy muttered, slouching in the chair.

“To find you! Speaking of, where were you this week?”

“Around.”

“Not home.” Ramona shot him a glare as she backed out of the driveway. “Which by the way, I went to your house. It’s an absolute mess. And you know how to get bloodstains out of things-“

“I was going to get to it.” Don’t mention Percy, please don’t remind me. Jeremy wished he was back in Michael’s house, still being interrogated for being there. It was much better than the absolute grilling he was getting from his sister.

“You’re lucky I helped clean up,” Ramona sniffed. “And you owe me for Percy’s vet bills, by the way. I know you’re a disaster on a regular basis, but whatever crisis you had will not get you out of your responsibilities mister.”

“Vet bills?” Jeremy echoed, flinching slightly when she mentioned Percy.

“Yeah, I had to take Percy to the vet. Some animal must’ve broken into your house after you ran off or something because he was hiding in your room scared out of his wits and covered in dried blood. He’ll be fine, but honestly. What could’ve been so important that you ran off and left Percy to fend for himself?”

“I didn’t know Percy survived,” Jeremy answered quietly.

“Well, you should’ve checked,” Ramona replied grimly. “He’s only still alive because I went to find you.”

“Yeah…” Jeremy pulled his shirt up over his head to bury the way his eyes were swimming. Everything was just too much for him right now. “Can you just- Can we go back to your house? I don’t think I can go home right now.”

“That’s where we’re headed,” Ramona answered gently. “I’m sorry to yell at you, Jer. I really am. I was just worried.”

“I know…” Jeremy rubbed his face into the soft fabric of the shirt. He wished he could’ve had a chance to apologize or make some kind of effort to befriend Michael before they’d abruptly left. “If it helps, I hardly remember anything from the last few days.”

“I noticed.” Ramona’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. “Hey, maybe we could go visit Becky for a bit. I know it’s been a while since I’ve seen her. I’m guessing you haven’t seen her lately either.”

“I can’t,” Jeremy said softly. He didn’t know when he’d transform again, and he couldn’t bear to have it happen around his family, not when he knew that Becky would dig straight for the cause of it, probably making him have to go through it longer than he wanted anyway. He wanted to have something for his friend to work with when he shared the problem.

Or maybe he wanted to handle something himself for once.

“Jer, are you sure? Not to push you or anything, but I’m probably going to head there at the end of the week. I was already planning the trip before you vanished, and now that you’re back-“

“I wouldn’t want to stop you from going,” Jeremy interrupted firmly. “I need to finish up some loose ends around here before I’d go. But if you could take Percy with you, I’d appreciate it.”

Maybe it would be best to just disappear. To be hunted and killed like the monster he was while Ramona was out of town. While she was safe.

“If you’re sure,” Ramona said, sounding hesitant still. “I’ll take Percy with me. I’m sure Becky misses him as much as he probably misses her.”

“Well, he is the son of her old dog. I’d be surprised if she didn’t miss him,” Jeremy answered, finally peeking out of his shirt.

“You’re such a big baby sometimes, Jeremy,” Ramona said softly, shaking his shoulder. “We’ll get you sorted out. Maybe find you a man to help you relieve your stress. You certainly need that-“

“Stop, stop. We’re not having this conversation-“

“If you just tried to have a relationship-“

“I thought you were all about not having a man to rely on for everything,” Jeremy countered.

“Well, I have different biases.”

“You only agreed because Becky said it first,” Jeremy accused, elbowing his sister.

“Hey, no assaulting the driver. Besides, I never said you have to rely on him for everything. Just… some things.”

“I’m less shallow than you,” Jeremy replied, huffing as he returned his gaze to the window.

“Oh, I doubt that. I saw the way you were eying up Michael. You wanted him,” Ramona teased.

“Oh, come on, I’m allowed to think a guy is hot, Mona! And he’s-“

“Just your type. Except I don’t think his personality is right for you. He’s too bitter, too grouchy. Not good enough for my little ball of sunshine.”

“I have four inches on you,” Jeremy argued.

“Not where it counts,” Ramona hummed in reply. “But seriously. I’m going to emphasize this, so pay attention. Don’t you dare go pining after Michael Afton.”

Jeremy rolled his eyes. “I think you already burned that bridge too badly to rebuild.”

“Good. But if there’s still a silver of doubt in your mind, I’m going to update you on everything once we get home. That man has a bloody history.”

“So you’re calling him some kind of monster?” Jeremy scoffed. “Come on, he called you right away when he found me, didn’t he?”

“How do we know it was right away? Maybe he drugs people for kicks and-“

“Just because I don’t remember the last few days does not mean I don’t remember last night. And nothing happened! We didn’t have sex, I promise you.”

“Mhm,” Ramona sounded unconvinced. “If you say so.”

“I’m never going to get you to believe me on any of this stuff, am I?” Jeremy groaned hiding his face as it burned. He shouldn’t be thinking of Michael in that context, especially now. “You’re so mean to me.”

“I love you too, Jeremy.”

Jeremy went to take a nap when he got to his sister’s apartment, crashing immediately on the couch. He needed to fix his sleep for work later that night anyway.

Ramona dragged him away from his nap to give him a bunch of information about the background of Fazbear Entertainment, and the whole reason she was suspicious of Michael. Clearly, she wasn’t done with their earlier conversation. She really doesn’t believe that I’ll leave it alone, Jeremy thought to himself as she dropped a bunch of newspaper clippings into his lap.

“He killed his little brother, Jeremy.”

“Allegedly.” Jeremy’s eyebrows furrowed as he skimmed the newspaper.

“And his father killed a bunch of kids back in 1985. At the same location you’ve been working at.”

“They never proved that,” Jeremy argued. He shoved the paper away, avoiding looking at the image of Evan Afton. The kid gave him an uneasy feeling.

“You can’t deny the evidence. Just because they weren’t convicted of murder doesn’t mean they didn’t kill anyone.”

That’s exactly what that’s supposed to mean, actually. Jeremy’s mouth thinned. He gave the newspapers back to his sister. “Okay, fine. Whatever.”

“Jeremy-“

“Can I please just take a nap in peace?” Jeremy begged. “I don’t need this extra stuff.”

Jeremy was glad to be able to get away again later that day. He knew his sleep was skewed, and he’d probably be exhausted for work, but he didn’t care. That was one thing he could rely on to be consistent. They’d be fine so long as he clocked in on time and clocked out. And if the animatronics caught him off guard, so be it.

He’d missed enough shifts already, and even without his uniform, he’d be fine going into work. Who was going to see him anyway?

He clocked in early, fiddling with his flashlight as he started his patrol. It was considered dumb to do things like this, he knew, but he hadn’t had any issues with walking around during his shift yet. And even if he did, he doubted the animatronics could do much to him anyway, now that he remembered the incident with Toy Bonnie.

The only real question was whether or not that golden bear would come back to kick him out again, but since Jeremy had never seen the bear before that time, he guessed it was a very rare occurrence thing that only happened if an animatronic was hurt or damaged. Then why wouldn’t it be protecting Mangle?

Shaking the weird thought out of his head, Jeremy stepped into Parts and Service, hoping he’d see the glint of his keys somewhere on the floor. Fritz usually forgot to lock up, and Jeremy had taken up the habit of locking up behind him. Since he’d lost his keys the last time he’d been in for a shift, he figured they’d be around somewhere.

He found himself out of luck. Sighing, Jeremy checked that all the old animatronics were still on the floor. Bonnie was still around, and with a twinge of guilt, Jeremy spotted Toy Bonnie’s mangled remains tucked between Bonnie’s torso and his arm. Best not to think too hard about that, Jeremy told himself, turning the beam to the rest of the room.

The faintest rustling noise had Jeremy immediately back on his guard. He turned to see a locker door falling open, revealing a golden suit. His grip on his flashlight tightened as he stared at the golden rabbit costume. It didn’t seem to move much more.

Maybe it was something they used during the day shifts? They were short a Bonnie after all. Still, a golden variation seemed odd as it was on the complete opposite end of the color spectrum from the other two Bonnie models Jeremy had seen.

He was almost tempted to look closer it at, but he knew better than to mess with the animatronics. Especially after his run-in with Toy Bonnie. He did not want to stir up the crazy bear thing again, no thank you.

Shaking his head, Jeremy turned back toward the door. Then he hesitated. The red light on the security camera was blinking at him. Who was in the security office?

Deciding to forget the rest of his early patrol for now, Jeremy made his way back to the office to see a very grumpy Michael shining a flashlight down the hall at him, a small boy also looking at him from a perch on top of the desk.

“Uh… hi?” That’s not Scott, Jeremy’s mind supplied. The realization hit him a moment later as he recognized the boy from Ramona’s newspaper clippings. Evan Afton.

His eyes seemed almost hypnotizing as he glared at Jeremy. “Huh. So you did survive then. Fancy that.”

“I… thanks?” Jeremy finished making his way into the office, weary of the kid on the desk. “Do I know you?”

Evan snorted. “Don’t be stupid. No.”

“Oh. Okay?”

Michael made an impatient noise. “Jeremy, don’t just stand in the doorway like a lost animatronic. Sit down if you’re going to bother me.”

“Right. Sorry.” Jeremy hurriedly went to sit down in the rusty folding chair next to Michael. “How did you know I’d be here?”

“I didn’t. That chair has just been here every shift I’ve worked,” Michael answered, checking through the cameras. “I can’t believe you’re insane enough to do that though.”

“Do what?”

“Go into Parts and Service. Cassidy doesn’t like it when people come in there,” Evan supplied. “Nobody’s supposed to go in there at night.”

“It’s part of my patrol,” Jeremy said defensively.

“You’re insane for doing a patrol in the first place!” Michael exclaimed. “I thought you’d broken in or something, and I was going to handle it, but Evan said that’s Cassidy’s job. Which, you had to be testing her patience with how long you stuck around in there.”

“I feel like I should be worried.”

“You should be.” Evan assessed him as Michael went back to focusing on the cameras. “I thought the rabbit thing killed you, you know.”

“Should I know what you’re talking about?” Jeremy asked, uncomfortable as the ghost boy studied him. He made Jeremy exceedingly uneasy, and he couldn’t describe why.

A helpful thought decided to interject for a moment, thankfully making him feel a little bit safer. Michael couldn’t have killed his brother. Otherwise, why would they be working together like this?

“Yeah.” Evan tossed a crumpled hat into Jeremy’s lap. “This is yours, right?”

Startled, Jeremy scrambled to catch it, seeing the black stains spotting the rim and front of his hat. Because it was his hat, the one he’d been wearing the last time he transformed. Battered and covered in black oil and whatever that other fluid was, his hat was mostly still intact.

“Where did you get this?” Jeremy asked, smoothing it out to shove it back over his head.

Amused, Evan let out another scoff. “Do you even have a brain? I lost half mine, and I can still connect the dots.”

“His sister is much quicker than he is, that’s for sure,” Michael replied before Jeremy could sputter out a reply.

“You guys are mean.” Jeremy crossed his arms with a pout.

“If you’re going to be here, you can check the hallway and the left vent.” Michael tapped his flashlight, ignoring his words.

“Right, yeah okay.” Jeremy shone the beam of his flashlight down the hallway. “So, what? You’ve just been in the pizzeria the entire time?”

“Yeeep,” Evan answered, leaning across the desk to change the camera and wind the music box. “Most don’t usually live to see the sunrise after they’ve seen me though.”

“Lucky them,” Michael muttered, pulling the camera monitor out of his brother’s reach. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re a big grouch,” Evan retorted. He peered into the left vent. “Eugh, that stupid balloon kid is here. Scram!” His shout made whatever was in the vent squeal and scramble away.

Jeremy blinked. “So the animatronics are just scared of you?”

“Not all of them.” Evan answered with a meaningful look at the camera. “Just the insignificant ones.”

“Which translates to, all of them except the Puppet,” Michael added.

“I don’t scare Cassidy.”

“Cassidy’s not an animatronic, Evan.”

“I suppose that’s true.” Evan sighed. “She hates me.”

“I still doubt that.” Michael clicked to the Parts and Service camera, frowning. “You didn’t touch anything while you were back there, did you?”

“Not a thing. I was hoping to find my keys, but-“ Jeremy yelped as Evan tossed a set of keys at him. His flashlight crashed to the ground as he scrambled to catch them before they hit him. “Oh. Thanks, I guess?”

“You’re welcome.” Evan peered at the camera his brother was looking at. “You’re sure you didn’t touch anything?”

“I didn’t!” Jeremy protested, even as both brothers looked at him suspiciously. “I was tempted to touch the yellow rabbit guy when he fell out of that locker, but I didn’t, I promise.”

“Yellow rabbit?” Evan’s eyebrows scrunched. “I’ll be right back.”

Michael seemed worried too, his own mouth tightening into a thin line.

“What’s the deal with the… yellow rabbit?” Jeremy ventured to ask.

“Don’t worry about it I’m guessing you must not have seen him the night he was in here. Were you attacked by Toy Bonnie or something?”

“Uh, yeah.” Jeremy chuckled nervously, his spine prickling as he realized that they were probably talking about him. “But I can’t say I’ve seen any yellow rabbits before today.”

“Weird. Evan said he and Cassidy scared it off the last time.” Michael frowned deeper. “It crammed itself into a locker?”

“Well, I don’t know about that. But it was in a locker. I thought it was an animatronic though.”

“It is,” Michael supplied stiffly. “But it’s harmless. It shouldn’t be able to move at all.

“…” Jeremy opened his mouth to ask another question, but he didn’t know how to phrase it.

“Don’t worry about it, okay? Evan’s got it handled,” Michael replied sharply. “Just keep checking the vents.”

“Right, got it.” Jeremy retrieved his flashlight. “You seem to have a bad experience with it.”

“I guess you could say that,” Michael answered shortly. “And you really never saw it when Toy Bonnie attacked you?”

“Uh, nope. I remember working on my shift and then waking up naked in your house. That’s… about it…” Jeremy lied awkwardly.

“Hmm…” Michael didn’t seem too sure about that, but he let it go. “So you didn’t see the giant golden bunny in my house either?”

“Nope!” Jeremy scratched his neck nervously. “Do you think it was the same one Evan was worried about?”

“Can’t be,” Michael replied. “The one I saw was a literal rabbit. This one is animatronic. There’s no way those two are the same thing.”

“I suppose not.” Jeremy shrugged, regretting holding up this conversation. “You seem… less grouchy than earlier.”

Michael turned to Jeremy wearily. “I had a rough morning.”

“Yeah, no, I get that. I just… I wanted to apologize for my sister’s behavior this morning.” Jeremy cleared his throat. “And um. I was wondering if, like, there was a way to sort things out?”

“Oh, you mean about borrowing my clothes? Don’t even sweat it, I don’t need them back.” Michael returned his focus to his work.

“I know Ramona can be awful sometimes-“

“I don’t care about that, Jeremy.” Michael finally gave him proper eye contact, shooting a jolt up Jeremy’s spine. Damn, that was hot. “I don’t care that your sister thinks I’m a killer, or that she thinks my father is also a killer. I couldn’t care less, because she’s right.”

“Oh.” Jeremy shifted uncomfortably, surprised. “Who did you…?”

“Evan. My baby brother.” Michael turned away again, his voice leaving no room to continue the conversation. Jeremy struggled to find a way to resume it, but he couldn’t.

It was all too comforting when Evan reappeared to confirm that Jeremy hadn’t touched the suit.

“Cassidy can’t figure out why it would have moved,” Evan said, peering at the camera suspiciously. “Music box.”

“Stop telling me what to do,” Michael grumbled, but he wound the music box.

“Hey, so how did you die?” Jeremy asked, even though he knew the answer.

Evan raised a surprised eyebrow at him. “That’s such a brash question to ask a nine-year-old.”

“Yeah, but depending on how long you’ve been dead, technically you aren’t nine anymore.”

“Leave him alone,” Michael growled.

“You don’t need to coddle me, Mikey.” Evan rolled his eyes. “What year is it?”

“1987,” Jeremy supplied, pretending to be less afraid of the way Michael was glaring at him. He checked the hallway with his vent to try to divert attention. “It is November.”

“So I’ve been dead for like four years then. My dad killed me.”

“He did?” Jeremy raised an eyebrow at Michael, who scowled.

“He’s lying to you. I was the one who killed him.”

“The accident was an accident,” Evan argued. “You’re not a murderer, Mike.”

“I’m close enough to one,” he shot back.

“So wait, why would you say your father killed you?”

“Because he did.” Evan crossed his legs and peered at Jeremy. “I see why the others like you so much.”

“Uh, thanks?”

“You’re so…” Evan snapped his fingers, trying to think of the word. “Honest. Genuine. Something like that.”

“Candid, maybe?” Jeremy offered.

Michael made an irritated noise as Evan brightened. “That’s the word! Yeah, you’re just so candid and blunt about everything. It’s refreshing. No handholding or coddling.”

“I don’t coddle you more than you try to coddle me,” Michael grumbled.

“Anyway,” Evan shot a pointed look at his brother. “What actually happened was Mikey tried to play a prank on me regarding Fredbear. One of the animatronics of the original diner.” When Jeremy looked confused, Evan elaborated. “The first place wasn’t Freddy’s. Our father and Uncle Henry opened the business as Fredbear’s Family Diner. There were two original animatronics. Fredbear and Spring Bonnie.”

Michael made an impatient noise. “I stuck him in Fredbear’s mouth, and the bloody bear bit down on his head. It was my fault.”

“Your fault I was in the hospital, but not your fault I died,” Evan countered. “Michael was all about apologizing, promising to be a better brother if I just woke up. But when Father came to visit, he told me that this attention-seeking was ridiculous, that I should just open my eyes so the bad press would go away.”

Evan’s tone grew quieter, and even Michael paused, his expression softening. “He said that if I didn’t get up, I didn’t deserve to live. And then I was in the suit, with only Fredbear to keep me company.”

That’s the golden bear then, Jeremy thought. “So, your father is your killer?”

“Not just mine. All the missing kids too.” Evan shrugged. “We’d tear him to pieces if we could find him, but there’s only so many hours ghosts are awake.”

“Presumably only during this shift,” Michael added. “I don’t think Phil ever mentioned the haunted animatronics, and Ramona only mentioned rumors about them.”

Evan and Michael both didn’t seem very inclined to speak much after that. Michael did try to stop him when he went for his next patrol, but he didn’t care too much. The patrol was something he’d always done, and just because he was sharing a shift with someone in the office now didn’t mean he was going to stop doing it. It just gave him a longer time limit.

Maybe at some point he could ask about this mysterious ‘Cassidy’ that Evan kept mentioning. But for now, he checked corners and looked in the camera blind spots, knowing that most didn’t ever bother to check. Toy Freddy and Toy Chica didn’t seem too interested in leaving the stage tonight, which Jeremy was grateful for. The Puppet was sealed away, the music box wound tightly to keep the music playing.

And he remembered Evan’s words about Cassidy preferring to have people stay out of Parts and Service. Instead of entering the room, he just whispered at the door, “I’m trusting you to have everything handled in there Cassidy.”

A cold feeling enveloped him, and he shuddered as he walked away. It was weird to miss Mangle on a shift, but he supposed they wouldn’t come around while Evan was guarding the office. He checked the back door quickly to ensure it was locked and was glad to find that Michael had indeed locked it behind him.

“I wish I could complain about the job you’re doing here, but it seems to be fantastic,” Jeremy said with a sigh as he plopped back into his chair.

Michael raised an eyebrow at that, the constant frown relenting slightly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Got the door locked and everything. Better than Fritz does, anyway.”

“Door was already locked when I got here,” Michael said. “But I’ll take the compliment.”

Huh. Interesting. Jeremy was curious about Michael’s sense of humor though, so he poked a little more. “Of course, I can’t really give you all the credit, since it seems that Evan and Cassidy are the ones who are actually in charge around here. They just tolerate you.”

Evan snorted at that, covering his mouth as Michael’s expression returned to a scowl. “I don’t know that you can say you’ve been doing much either, Jeremy.”

“I’m not claiming to. But the animatronics like me, according to Evan, so I have a one-up on you.”

Michael shook his head, but he didn’t rise to the bait.

The rest of the night passed in somewhat stiff silence.

“See you tomorrow night, I guess. Fitzgerald.” Michael rose, offering a hand for Jeremy to shake.

“Same to you, dude.” Jeremy shook his hand cheerily, trying not to visibly wince as Michael crushed his hand in the shake. “Until next time, Afton-“

As soon as he started to say the last word, Michael shoved him back against the wall, covering his mouth. A thrill ran through Jeremy as pain shot up his back. He couldn’t help a startled whimper as Michael glared at him with icy blue eyes.

“Never call me that. Understand? Never.”

“I… I understand! Yep! Never going to call you that ever again, never ever!” Jeremy chirped back, knowing his enthusiasm was way more than the situation required.

“It’s Schmidt. Michael Schmidt.”

“Then… I’ll see you tonight, Schmidt.”

Michael rolled his eyes, pulling a stick of gum from his pocket to start chewing it before he walked out of the security office. Evan had disappeared somewhere around 5, so Jeremy remained to tidy up a tiny bit before walking out to his car.

Michael was still on the sidewalk, presumably going to walk home, and Jeremy did not accept that he was just going to be walking in the chilly air in only his work uniform. He drove alongside Michael, rolling down his window. “Need a ride home?”

“No.” Michael kept walking, not even glancing at the car. “I’m used to walking everywhere.”

“You could catch a cold!” Jeremy protested.

“Good thing I’m not the only one on shift then,” he shot back, blowing a bubble with his gum. “Go home, Fitzgerald.”

“Alright fine. But if you get sick, I’m going to say ‘I told you so.’”

“I’m so terrified of the threat,” Michael replied sarcastically. “Goodbye.”

Rude, Jeremy thought with mild annoyance. But this was progress from last time! Last time, Michael hadn’t had much to say except “fuck off,” so at least Jeremy got through it this time without that. And he’d also gotten information that Ramona hadn’t had, which meant she was wrong about Michael Afton.

“So ghosts are real?” Ramona pressed as Jeremy hung up the phone after receiving a call from his friend Sebastian.

He was so lucky Seb was willing to give him a discount, so lucky he was willing to do repairs without questioning things. Jeremy had already gotten rid of the couch and burned his old sheets. The last step to making the whole rabbit nightmare a forgotten memory was the torn flooring.

“Yeah. And Evan has a much better sense of humor than his brother.” Jeremy shot his sister a skeptical look. “You’re not surprised by anything else I said?”

“Like what? The kid forgiving his older brother? You said he was like nine?”

Jeremy didn’t know how to respond to that. She wasn’t wrong. But it didn’t feel like she was completely right either. “But-“

“Jer, you’re being dumb about all this. You need to think with your brain at least some of the time.”

“I am using my brain! I was asking all the questions I needed answers to.”

“Yeah? Then why are you still so blatantly defending Michael Afton?”

Because if he’s a monster, then so am I, Jeremy thought to himself, but he didn’t say it out loud. “Forget it.”

“Jeremy-“

“No, it’s not worth arguing about. But Evan gave me back my keys.” Jeremy stood up moodily. “It was nice talking with you, Ramona, but I gotta get some sleep before tonight’s shift.”

“Jer, what’s bothering you? You know you can tell me about it, right?” Ramona pressed.

“I know. I just don’t feel like getting into it right now. That’s all. Have a good day, Mona.”

“You too, Jer.” Ramona hesitated for another moment. “I’m here for you, if you need anything.”

“I know.”

Ramona shot him a worried look as she got through the door, careful to avoid catching her pants on the splintered wood that Sebastian was going to replace.

After his sister left, Jeremy stripped, unsure of what triggered him to turn into the rabbit. He didn’t want to ruin clothes that didn’t belong to him though, so he wasn’t taking chances as he went to rest properly for the first time in ages.

Michael let himself back into his house with a heavy sigh. That shift had been long. He undid his tie, ignoring the impatient meowing at his feet while he changed out of his work clothes. “Give me some time, Logan.”

Logan meowed again, pawing at his empty bowl.

“One second, Logan.” Michael pulled a new shirt over his head before giving the cat a scratch behind his ear. “I’ll get that bowl filled in no time.”

After feeding Logan, Michael was tempted to go out and look for the bunny again. Surely it couldn’t have gone far, right? Even if it had been gone for a day, maybe it was just hungry and hunting. Maybe it had tried to return while Michael was gone and couldn’t get back in. Maybe-

You’re overthinking this. God, you are such a freak Michael. Michael shook his head, walking toward the place where he’d last seen the rabbit. Maybe the dumpster was its home?

His hopefulness diminished as he approached the dumpster. He couldn’t see any sign of it anyway. Shoulders slumping, he prepared to walk back, so he could let Logan have his own walk.

A soft thumb behind him made him hesitate though. Michael turned, excitement growing as he saw the giant shape of the golden rabbit who’d appeared very suddenly. “There you are!” Michael exclaimed, beaming as he reached out for the bunny.

His new friend nuzzled into his hand immediately, rubbing its fluffy face against his hand. “I missed you buddy,” Michael whispered into the overwhelmingly soft fur.

A soft rumble in the bunny’s throat soothed him, making all the irritation and torment from the last day completely vanishing. “You can’t just disappear on me, you know,” Michael said, trying for a scolding tone.

The bunny thumped his back foot as a reply.

“What? Are you going to say you didn’t miss me? Because I think you’d be lying.”

The bunny nosed at his neck. A soft, wet feeling made Michael’s neck prickle in the cold.

“Is that a way of saying you did miss me?” Michael asked, scratching up behind the rabbit’s ear.

He stumbled a bit as the rabbit rocked forward, knocking him off-balance a little bit. The rabbit kept nuzzling him until he was completely knocked to the ground. Startled, he didn’t even attempt to get up before he was completely enveloped in soft, warm, golden fur.

“Hey, hang on a sec-“ Michael tried to protest before the bunny squished its head down over his, keeping him even more safely enveloped in warmth. “I need to let Logan out for a bit! You’re going to make it so a poor little kitty can’t stretch his legs, is that what you want?”

A grumbling noise resonated in the back of the bunny’s throat, but it let Michael get to his feet. “Thank you.”

Michael walked back, knowing that the bunny was going to follow him back this time. He didn’t even need to stress about it. Michael grabbed his mail from the box on his way back into the house, tossing the pile onto his table before shaking the harness to get Logan to come running.

“Time for your walk, you crazy cat,” Michael said, pretending to ignore the rabbit who’d opted to lurk on the front lawn instead of coming in this time. Maybe it likes to be free to roam, he thought to himself.

Logan was happy enough to take his walk, purring as they returned. Shortly after Michael walked through the door and started undoing Logan’s harness, the rabbit wriggled into the house, looming behind Michael.

After he’d shut the door, Michael let out a big yawn, rubbing his eyes briefly. Gotta check the mail first, he scolded himself as he yawned again.

Glancing at the top of the stack, Michael felt himself pale. It was another letter from his father, this time marked as urgent. He hadn’t even opened the last one, and now he was getting another? Michael was just grateful his father didn’t know his phone number, but then actual horror struck him. He could just come to my house.

Michael twitched, grabbing the letter so tightly the edges crinkled. With a solid grip, he ripped the envelope and the contents in half. The rabbit flinched, clearly not expecting such a violent action. Logan was unaffected, as usual.

He tossed the torn remains into his trash bin and stalked to his bedroom, trying so hard not to start trembling or crying. The bunny nudged the door open and sniffed at the edge of his bed. Michael patted the side of his bed, giving it permission to jump up. The bunny took the permission easily, pressing comforting warmth into Michael’s back as tears leaked from the corners of his eyes.

“Why can’t he just leave me alone?” Michael sobbed quietly. “It’s bad enough knowing that I did something monstrous, but he does it on purpose. I bet he’s out there doing it to some other poor kids now, and I’m just not strong enough to stand up to him.”

The bunny rumbled out a growl at the blame Michael placed on himself, but it still soothed his pain with soft fur. He rolled over and buried his face properly into the fur, his fingers tangling into the strands. So soft, he thought to himself, tears dampening the fur of the bunny’s chest.

Not that it seemed to mind, pulling Michael closer as he started drifting off to sleep. “I just don’t get it…” Michael trailed off, finally relaxing enough to let go of consciousness.

Jeremy woke up with his arms wrapped around a sleeping Michael. Why am I not surprised? he thought to himself, carefully untangling himself from his sleeping coworker. He’d kill me if he knew I was here.

Unease sank into Jeremy as he realized he was yet again left to try to sneak out without clothing. But at least he was in Michael’s room this time, and he could just grab clothes without getting caught.

His foot hit something soft and warm, and a disgruntled meow made Jeremy realize the cat was also here. Oh shit. Directing a glare at the cat, Jeremy climbed out of the bed without causing the cat or Michael to wake up completely. The black cat nestled back into his paws, purring loudly as Jeremy snuck a new pair of clothing out of Michael’s drawer.

He left quickly, pushing open a window and crawling out of it, ignoring the pain that shot through his feet as he landed on rocks. Jeremy glanced around before hurrying toward his house, memorizing the address as he left the place.

He felt bad for ditching, but he also knew he could not just stay after all that. Not after how upset Michael had seemed the first time. Until he could control when he turned into a rabbit and maybe stay as a rabbit when around Michael, then he wasn’t taking any chances.

Back home, Jeremy slipped socks onto his feet and glanced at the time. He had plenty of time to spare before work, but he still couldn’t help but feel a bit antsy. I’m not supposed to know where he lives, Jeremy thought glumly.

The phone ringing pulled Jeremy away from spiraling in his obsession. Maybe Ramona was right about all that stuff anyway. “Hello? Jeremy Fitzgerald here.”

“Jeremy! What a pleasant surprise to hear your voice. No offense, but we all thought you were dead!”

“Yeah, that’s what Michael told me,” Jeremy chuckled nervously, wondering why Lloyd was calling him.

“Hey, you’re not too opposed to just sharing that shift with him, right? I mean, I know you said you absolutely did not want to have to deal with kids, and I completely understand. Michael had the same qualms about the shift, but this is the only shift where no one is stuck hanging around children. But you’re all good with that? You’re fine sharing the workload? It's probably better anyway, having two people check on the place during those hours. Keeps the place safer- I mean, more secure!” Lloyd blabbed on, talking so fast Jeremy could barely keep up with what he was saying.

“I’m okay with it. Is he?” Jeremy leaned back against the wall, a finger hooked absently into the phone cord. An excuse to spend more time with Michael? No way was he turning that down.

“Oh! Yeah, uh, he actually seemed more than happy to have someone else there. I guess he doesn’t have the same familiarity you have with the job yet. He’s probably a bit jittery about the atmosphere. You know, he’s never had a nighttime security job before, actually.”

“Lloyd, is that all you needed from me, or is there something else?”

“Oh, that’s it. Uh, except one thing. We found a bunch of the torn remains of your uniform. Did you want a new one? I’m guessing that you’ve been using the spare, but you should really have more than one.”

“By that logic, I should have at least three,” Jeremy pointed out. “In case one is misplaced or ruined, or another incident like the other night happens.”

“Can I ask what happened?”

“Toy Bonnie came after me. I don’t really remember what happened after that,” Jeremy replied swiftly. “I don’t need to fill out an incident report or anything do I? I mean, as far as I’m aware, no one got hurt.”

“Nobody was hurt in the incident. We didn’t actually know that until just now actually.” Lloyd laughed nervously. “No, we don’t need anything from you, don’t worry! It just would’ve helped us if you’d remembered something about Toy Bonnie attacking, or maybe Fritz coming in-“

“I don’t know anything about that, sorry.” Jeremy cleared his throat awkwardly. “But I can be in in a couple minutes if you have extra uniforms ready.”

“Oh! Yeah, I can totally do that. Yeah, if you come in before 6, I can totally get you set up with some new uniforms.”

“Great, I’ll see you at 5 then.”

“Fantastic!”

Jeremy hung up the phone feeling more awkward than ever before. At least he’d have a uniform again.

When he saw Michael at the next shift, he set out by tipping his hat at the other man. No response. Evan seemed a bit distracted today as well, somewhat of a frown crossing his face.

Jeremy sat down awkwardly in his chair, remembering Lloyd’s words from earlier. If he had to guess, maybe Michael had been relieved to have an excuse to make sure Jeremy wasn’t in any danger after all the personal risks he took at work.

“I’m going to do a patrol,” he announced abruptly, picking up his flashlight.

“Don’t die,” Evan said, peering over Michael’s shoulder.

“Right…” Jeremy looked at Michael hopefully, but the other man gave him no indication that he was going to say anything in reply.

The night was somewhat quiet. It was weird having the toy animatronics remaining onstage every night, and Jeremy almost wished they’d move so he could at least know that Toy Bonnie hadn’t been a fluke. Even Mangle hadn’t sought him out since he’d turned, presumably too afraid of him now to approach.

It made sense, considering how Percy was taking the exact same approach with him, but it still stung to know that his dog and his favorite animatronic no longer seemed to see him as a safe person. Even Evan didn’t trust him in that form, if Jeremy’s memory served correctly.

Nobody saw him as more than a monster aside from Michael. Was that why he was so magnetized to the other man? Physical attributes aside, Michael seemed well-guarded, not trusting other people. But he seemed to have a secret affection for animals. Even with the amount he swore at his cat, he seemed to love the cat enough to care for it when he was not in the mood to care for the poor thing.

Sighing, Jeremy started to head back toward the cold atmosphere of the main office. He stopped upon hearing what sounded like sobbing coming from Parts and Service.

“Hey, everything okay in there?” Jeremy asked, hoping for a gentle tone.

“No!” The door flew open, nearly hitting Jeremy in the face, and he couldn’t help but flinch at the small girl glowering at him with thick black tear streaks running down her face. “He’s come back, and I can’t stop him!”

“Who came back?” Jeremy asked, crouching down to her level. “Sorry for asking, but I seem to be a bit out of the loop.”

“You take things more seriously than most,” she huffed. Then she blinked at him. “Wait, you’re that security guard guy. We all thought you died!”

“That seems to be the common consensus,” Jeremy sighed. “But who came back? Clearly he’s no one good if you are unhappy about it.”

“No. He killed me, and he’s gonna kill more kids.”

“Oh.” A prickle of fear made Jeremy tremble a bit at that. “When did he come back?”

“Not too long ago. We didn’t notice the changes in his suit, but-“ she glanced at the darkened area for a moment. “Here, I’ll just show you.”

Cold fingers wrapped around Jeremy’s wrist, and he was startled to discover that apparently ghosts could in fact touch people.

“So, originally, he was in that locker there, right?” the girl gestured at the locker Jeremy had originally spotted the animatronic at.

“Yeah…”

“Well, he’s not anymore. Now he’s on the floor over here,” Cassidy pointed directly at where the golden bunny suit was slumped next to the old Freddy model.

“Oh. And this suit’s not possessed right? Nobody should be moving it?”

“No one should be moving it. Employees can get fired for touching it, much less moving it. And I haven’t seen it move on its own.”

“Ghosts can only do things at this time of night…” Jeremy trailed off thoughtfully. “You think it’s the same guy who killed you?”

“I know it is. I had to ask a bunch of times to get anywhere with Evan. That kid is so tight-lipped, I swear.” The girl shook her head. “But apparently, this suit here can only be activated by a key. One person had that key.”

“Your killer.”

“William Afton,” she confirmed. “At least, that’s what Evan says, but he’s been wrong about so much lately, that I’m just worried he’s wrong about that too.”

“Did you try asking Michael?”

“Evan doesn’t think I should talk to the security guards.” The girl shrugged. “He thinks I’ll just kill you guys. But I’m not that murderous. I still have a brain, unlike some people.”

“So you must be Cassidy?”

“Yep.” Cassidy sighed. “I mean, I don’t want to complain because it makes sense that Evan wants to spend time with his brother, but I miss being able to roam the pizzeria freely. Ever since Toy Bonnie got dinged, I’ve been checking in here to make sure Spring Bonnie hasn’t been used. I think we scared him off pretty well though.”

“Spring Bonnie…?”

“The yellow rabbit suit,” Cassidy pointed, rolling her eyes. “Oh! One more thing. I know you’re like, nocturnal or whatever like we are. But you can actually wake up during the day. Could you like, keep an eye out for someone wearing the suit?”

“I mean, I suppose. Did Evan bring that up to Michael?”

“I doubt it. He hates the idea of getting you guys involved.” Cassidy wrinkled her nose. “Something about trying not to cause more deaths than necessary, but he’s not going to kill an adult out in the open like that. I think it’s fine.”

“Huh. Okay. I mean, I can try…”

“Whatever works.” Cassidy seemed satisfied, finally noticing the red light on in the camera. “Oh! Say cheese!”

“That’s a live feed, Cassidy. It’s not a picture camera.”

“You’re no fun.” Cassidy stuck her tongue out at him. “Bye bye for now. I’ll expect results later.”

“I hope I’ll have results for you.”

“That’s the spirit!” Cassidy said cheerfully before disappearing.

Resigning himself to the blinking light of the security camera, Jeremy went back to the office. If he hadn’t been sure before, Evan’s scowl told him plenty about what he needed to know.

“What were you thinking?” Evan hissed, his eyes so dark there was absolutely no color aside from the darkest of dark pits.

“Uhh…”

“She could’ve killed you!”

“She dragged me in there!” Jeremy said in protest.

“Did she now? Maybe she’s just lonely because she lost her best friend.” Michael shot a pointed look at his brother.

“Cassidy can’t stand me,” Evan scoffed, but he let up on Jeremy a little bit. “What did she want?”

“Help with her little investigation into Spring Bonnie.” Jeremy dropped into his chair and peered at the camera monitor in Michael’s hands. “Still no animatronic movement, huh? Almost like they were told to stay put.”

He raised an eyebrow at Evan. The kid rolled his eyes, the frown not relenting. “Toys aren’t our thing. We watch over the others.”

“So the toys not moving is also suspicious behavior?” Jeremy asked. “Hey, not to be dumb or anything, but how much did your dad work with the animatronics?”

“He helped create them, so a pretty significant amount,” Michael answered. “Evan, I just think you should make up with her.”

“There’s nothing to make up! She doesn’t want anything to do with me, and that’s fine. I’ll stay out of her space, and she can take care of the others!”

“She said you told her to stay in Parts and Service,” Jeremy said.

“You’re going to believe her over me? Mikey, you can’t believe this, surely!”

“I mean, I don’t know what to believe. I’ve never spoken to Cassidy before, and if its your word or Jeremy’s, then I’ll take your word for it. But I do still think you should try to resolve this conflict you have with her-“

“Think what you want then! I don’t care!” Evan’s eyes flashed before he abruptly vanished.

Jeremy sat in stunned silence as Michael just continued checking things. “Well that was…”

“He’s just pouting. We’ve had this argument before, don’t worry.” Michael didn’t glance over at Jeremy as he talked. “So, Cassidy let you off with a warning or something I’m guessing?”

“I already said she dragged me in. She wants me to go in during the day and look out for a guy in a rabbit costume.”

“That could only be one person, you know,” Michael said grimly, sitting back to start giving Jeremy his attention. “My father only made one key for that suit.”

“Cassidy said that. She also seems a bit weary of taking information from Evan since he seems a little…”

“Mixed up?” Michael shrugged. “Yeah, don’t put too much stock in what he says. I don’t think he fully knows where he’s at.”

“That’s fair, I guess…” Jeremy wasn’t fully appreciative of that response. “So, you still think your dad killed those kids?”

“Without a doubt. He was always a bit more bitter when he had to deal with them, and if the other kids say it was the golden bunny man, then who am I to say they’re wrong? It makes sense.” Michael shook his head. “I still don’t understand what kind of monster could willingly decide that kids couldn’t get to live their lives though.”

“A kind that’s actually a monster as opposed to someone who thinks of himself as one?” Jeremy offered.

Michael turned his gaze on Jeremy lazily. “I know what you’re trying to do.”

“Is it working?”

“Not more than Evan’s assurances. Listen, I made my peace with what I did a long time ago.”

“It doesn’t seem like it.” Jeremy laid a reassuring hand on Michael’s arm. “You didn’t mean it. There’s no way you and your dad are even remotely in the same league-“

“Yeah, but a monster is a monster, aren’t they? Killers are monsters, Jeremy. Simple as that.” Michael slipped his hand away and went back to the cameras. “It’s not like it’s possible to always spot a monster on the surface anyway. Maybe you’re just telling yourself I can’t be a monster because I don’t look like one.”

Jeremy stiffened at that. You don’t have to look like a monster to be a monster. Did that mean the opposite was true too? He wanted desperately to know the answer.

Michael tried to give him a smile. “Look, it’s no big deal, really. If you aren’t actively saying I’m following in my father’s footsteps, then I think things are okay, you know? Like, I may not really like you, but I don’t think you’re a complete twat.”

“Uh, thanks?” Jeremy didn’t know how to respond to that, instead shining his light into the vent to avoid the heat that rose to his face at what he was guessing was meant to be a compliment.

“Anytime.” Michael chuckled softly. “Looks like he’s going for a full night sulk tonight. Guess it’s just us now.”

“Think you’ll be able to handle the office once I go on my next patrol?” Jeremy asked teasingly.

Michael snorted. “With the animatronics the way they are? I’ll be more than fine.”

“Good to know.”

A few nights passed like this, Michael offering minimal conversation during the shift, Jeremy taking his time to do patrols and update Cassidy on what he saw during the days.

It wasn’t much more than he had during the night, but Cassidy seemed to appreciate it nonetheless. And if he showed up to work tired, then that was fine too. Michael would shake his head, and Evan was still pouting about his argument with Cassidy, so he didn’t care.

Still, he felt a little bit bad whenever he realized he’d nodded off, insisting that Michael wake him. And evidently, that was not happening every time it happened. It hadn’t hurt anything so far though, so Jeremy was willing to let it slide.

It had taken him ages, quietly arguing with Evan while Jeremy slumped in his chair, to convince his brother to try and work things out with Cassidy. Evan had been furious that Cassidy was putting Jeremy in harm’s way, but Michael thought he probably knew the risks of what he was getting into.

Why should Cassidy get the blame anyway? She wanted help, not to doom another man to die. And Evan had given plenty of warning, so Jeremy could’ve backed out whenever he wanted to, so it was fine. There was simply no need to keep blaming Cassidy.

Michael spared a glance away from his constant checking to look at the uncomfortable way Jeremy had passed out in his chair, drool leaking from the corner of his mouth, hat knocked askew. On impulse, he reached over and fixed Jeremy’s hat, before deciding to move him to the floor.

Jeremy’s head knocked into Michael’s chest, and he felt sure that the man would wake. Jeremy hardly stirred, so Michael continued to lay him down, removing Jeremy’s jacket to tuck it beneath his head like a pillow. There, Michael thought to himself, somewhat satisfied before he went back to flick through the cameras absently.

Unfortunately for Mike, however, he’d missed the sound of an animatronic crawling into the vent, too focused on making sure he didn’t wake up Jeremy to pay much attention to the world around him.

The loud static did eventually catch Michael’s attention, and he set the monitor down, forgetting to wind the music box as he glanced at the phone. It was in its cradle, and belatedly Michael realized that noise meant animatronic, and he turned to check the vent just as Mangle swung down to attack.

Michael yowled in pain as the impact knocked him from his chair and plastic teeth tore through his face. The edge of the desk caught the other side of his face, making his vision blurry as he faintly caught the sound of tearing fabric and an angry growl.

Something warm ran down his face as the animatronic screeched, hiding away from the giant shadow looming over Michael. Struggling to push himself upright, he found himself surrounded by golden fur. Oh. Michael blinked blood out of his eye, struggling to process the scene around him, only slightly frightened now that he knew his rabbit friend had somehow appeared to aid him. I hope it doesn’t step on my coworker. That’d be awkward to explain.

“Mikey!” Evan’s voice echoed in the quiet environment. “Michael?”

The bunny was growling, a low rumble vibrating through its body. Cool hands cupped both sides of Michael’s face as Evan’s face came into view.

“Oh my god,” Evan breathed, smudging the blood stream ever so slightly. “Where did Jeremy go? I thought you knew what you were doing!”

“Glad you’ve got your priorities in order,” Michael answered slowly, still struggling to focus on his brother’s face. “Your hands are cold.”

“Of course they are.” Evan huffed in exasperation. “Wait, you’re totally in shock. Mikey…”

“The music box…” Michael trailed off as he registered that a completely quiet room was not a good thing.

Evan’s eye widened. “Oh no.”

The sound of aggressive music echoed in the halls as the Puppet made its approach. Not that it was much of a problem, seeing as Michael’s bunny pinned the animatronic to the ground before it could do much.

“Wait, don’t do that,” Evan said hurriedly. “Uh, I need to-“

“Yeah, no, go ahead.” Michael’s eyelids fluttered shut as Evan went away to shout at the bunny who was currently having a very intense stare down with the Puppet.

Jeremy hadn’t known he’d fallen asleep on shift that night. Waking up tangled in bindings made of shimmery thread had not been the most reassuring thing. More startling than that, however, was the pooling blood around Michael’s head as Evan argued with an unfamiliar girl.

Cautiously he untangled himself and dug into the duffel bag he started to bring to every shift, grateful for his planning as the remains of his uniform remained littered across the floor. The bickering children didn’t notice as he slipped his uniform on quickly before pressing his jacket (which for some reason was folded on the floor) to the wound on Michael’s head. Jeremy managed to pull the man close so he could hold the fabric to the wound while still being able to dial for the hospital.

Jeremy didn’t know how Michael had been injured, but based on the teeth marks, he had a sinking feeling Mangle had done something to the poor man. He did look a bit too similar to his father for Jeremy’s liking. That had to be the real reason Michael was so vigilant and why Evan was so paranoid about him missing things in the cameras.

The children stopped arguing to look at him when he was explaining things to the emergency operator, seeming to realize that maybe there were more urgent things to deal with than whatever they’d been arguing about. Jeremy clutched the plastic tightly in one hand as he clutched to Michael’s injury with the other.

Evan was the first to approach Jeremy, looking more disheveled than Jeremy even knew ghosts could be. “You’re the rabbit thing.”

Jeremy nodded awkwardly. He knew they’d discovered him the minute he’d woken up and was tangled in that same shimmery stuff that he’d seen under his skin before he transformed the first time.

“Our conversation isn’t over, Evan,” the girl said, impatiently. “Sure, Mike takes priority, but the fact that you guys tried to lock me away is absolutely insane.”

“How about we skip the interrogation until we know that Michael’s okay,” Jeremy said weakly.

“I guess that’s a good way to put things.” The girl crouched at Michael’s side, brushing bloodied hair out of his face. “Although you and me need a talk at some point, Mr. Fitzgerald.”

“I’m long overdue for talks with a bunch of people now,” Jeremy muttered.

Please be okay.

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐳𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞 𝟏𝟒𝟏 + 𝐊𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

A/N: Posting this again because Tumblr is being a nuisance and not showing my post in tags :)) It's just really freaking fluffy, enjoy!!

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

Was completely on board for a stargazing date. No large crowds of people? Peaceful nature, paired alongside you? It couldn’t get any better for Simon, except maybe staying in at home.

Packs a kit of things you might want, a blanket, a late dinner (that consisted of some very delicious sandwiches and veggies! You really didn’t know how he did it, those sandwiches were always so damn good)

Sets up the blanket in this really nice field he found one day when he was out on a jog. The open sky was visible for miles around, and there were little wildflowers everywhere.

Just holds you close to his side, and doesn’t want to let you go ever. Not that you minded.

“There was this one recruit that was just a little shit, didn’t bother me thankfully, but bothered another one of the female recruits,” you said, tone a bit irritated.

“Want me to do anything?” Simon asked. It was funny, he was almost like a guard dog. Guard bear? Given his size and all. It was cute, but you knew that he knew you could more than handle yourself.

“Nah, ripped him a new one the moment I saw it happen. Gotta teach them right early on, or they’ll think they can carry that attitude throughout their career” you say. “Looked like he saw his life flash before his eyes,” you giggled softly.

He only hums affectionately, brushing a hand over your head gently. That’s when you let out a gasp, pointing up at something in the sky.

“Simon! A shooting star, make a wish!” You say, sitting up and clasping your hands together before closing your eyes, murmuring a wish to yourself. He remained laying down, but he did wish for something wordlessly, as cheesy as the action might’ve been.

It was that you would stay by his side for the rest of eternity, because only then would it be enough time.

John Price

He would definitely say cheesy stuff about the universe, but with his voice it made it sound like your own personal David Attenborough.

“Did you know that we’re all made of stardust? Us, made up of the remnants of stars created billions of years before our lifetime,” he said with a little sparkle in his eyes, as if your very presence was proof of the fact.

I feel like Price, despite all that he’s seen over the years, still has such a beautiful view of the world

I mean, it makes sense, when he does so much to protect it

Not just the world, but the universe

When you look over at him, you just see this glimmer in his eyes as he looks up at the sky. So bright you can’t help but snuggle closer.

The conversation had slowed down to a stop for a little moment as you both just watched the sky in the quiet night. You take this moment to look over at John, and all his focus is directed toward the sky. His blue eyes shine bright in the glow of the moon as fascination dances through them.

It makes your heart feel warm inside, that despite all the horror he’s seen he still regards the world with such a glow.

You hope that glow never fades, only shines brighter as time goes by. You can’t help but cuddle closer, pressing your cheek to his chest. His arm tightens its hold around your shoulders as his focus is directed to you now.

“What’s wrong, love?” he asks.

“Nothing John,” you say with a smile. “Nothing at all.

Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish

Has a hatchback, so he figured it would be nice to bring a bunch of blankets and pillows and drive to a viewpoint somewhere in the middle of the night so you could both cuddle under the stars.

Is serious about the setup, everything has to be nice and cozy.

Even brought one of those little packs of string lights you can find at Walmart during Christmastime to set up so it's extra intimate.

Snacks? Of course! Can’t be getting hungry now, can we?

You sat wrapped up in a fuzzy blanket, legs thrown over Johnny’s as he held you close. Every so often he would press a kiss on your forehead as you both just talked about anything and everything. The days you had, some goofy prank he pulled on Ghost, the funny recruit you had trained the other day.

“Here I am bleeding out from a gash in my side when L.T. tells this stupid joke. Completely out of the blue. Hells bells, I can’t even remember what the joke was now, I’m sure it wasn’t even funny but it was so random I laughed,” he chuckles to himself. “That just causes blood to spurt out from my side and all over Ghost’s hands as he's trying to patch me up, and all he can say is ‘Fucking hell Johnny’ which, of course, makes me laugh more,” he laughs. And you can’t but laugh along with him, the sound so contagious and light.

“Sounds like one hell of a mission, hm~?” you say, pressing a kiss to his chin.

“Aye sweetheart, wish you had been there. Would’ve patched me up real nice, better than L.T. ever could’ve done,” he says, brushing his fingers over your cheek fondly.

“Of course,” you respond.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick

Comes prepared to say the least. Snacks, blankets, heat packs, hot chocolate, you name it and he’s got it.

Was very giddy when you asked him if he wanted to leave base with you for a while to go stargazing.

You remember him saying on the first date that it was his ideal date, but at the time it was smack dab in the middle of winter, and while it wasn’t a bad time per se, there were better seasons to go in.

Loved learning about the stars in class as a kid, and it’s just stuck ever since.

You’re lying in Kyles's lap as you listen to him talk about his favourite stars. Every so often he would feed you a piece of candy as he did, otherwise, his fingers were running through your hair soothingly.

“Sirius is the brightest star we can see from Earth,” he points out before his hand returns back to the top of your head. “It’s actually a binary star, which means that they are a pair of stars orbiting alongside each other,” he explains before looking back down at you.

“What?” he asks as he looks at your goofy grin.

“Nothing, I just like the sound of your voice,” you say in response, and Kyle only trips over his words for a moment before deciding against them, opting to just kiss you instead.

Konig

Puts you on his shoulders as you walk through the open field, and says it's so you can be closer to the ones that are at least half as bright as you.

This makes your cheeks heat up with embarrassment, much to his amusement.

He’s just really sweet the entire time

Doesn’t know much about the stars and constellations so you make it a point to teach him all about them

He doesn’t say much in response, instead, he just listens to your voice as you talk excitedly.

“I think Lyra is my favourite constellation. It’s about the lyre, a musical instrument that was created by the god Hermes! He gifted it to Orpheus, you know the one from Hadestown that I always listen to?” you say excitedly, and Konig only nods as he watches you with fond eyes.

“I’m boring you, aren’t I?” you ask, your voice tinged with sadness, judging by his lack of response this entire time. Panic flashes in his eyes as he feels you pull away from him slightly. He grabs your wrist in response, pulling you back to him.

“Never, Liebling,” he says. “You just speak so excitedly about this, and I enjoy your happiness as though it were my own. That…and well, the sound of your voice is very lovely,” he says, pink flushing his cheeks. You feel your own heat up at the admission before you pull him into a sweet kiss.

“Alright,” you smile.

A/N: I actually have a really vivid memory of going stargazing as a kid. Back in sixth grade, we were at an overnight camp in the middle of the Canadian winter, and when nighttime hit the counsellors took us out to this big open field in all our snow gear and just told us to lay down in the snow to look up at the stars. I just remember it being so calm and quiet. It was kinda far up North from any cities (close to Algonquin park :P) so there was no light pollution. Still one of my core memories, haha.

Anyway! If you want me to expand on any of these headcanons into a proper fic just let me know!!

[idiopath-fic-smile]

adding on to the previous ask: the zombies run prequel from the same post if you're so inspired!!

ooh okay!

(for reference, we're talking about this post.)

the zombies run prequel was abandoned specifically because it was going to need to be extremely long, so i'll need to post quite a bit in order to get to new writing.

“Arse,” says Jack.

“Bastard,” says Eugene.

“Creep.”

“Dolt.”

“Eh—um. Uh.” Jack puffs out a frustrated breath. “Egg…face?”

Eugene rolls his eyes. “Eggface? Seriously?”

“E’s hard,” says Jack. “I’d like to see you try it.” He sighs.

“Aggravating,” says Eugene.

“Well that’s just uncalled f—” Jack starts, and Eugene makes a face Jack can’t possibly see, but the message must come across anyway, because a second later, he adds, “oh. Starting over. Yeah. Berk.”

“Clod.”

“Dickhead.”

“Easy.”

“Easy doesn’t count,” Jack cuts in. “That’s not an insult.”

“I meant, in the sense of—“

“Yeah,” says Jack, “I know how you meant it, I, too, speak the English language.” His voice raises, almost to a normal pitch, and then he catches himself and resumes in a whisper, “Just—don’t you think it’s a bit, uh, slut-shamey to—“

“You just don’t want to give me the point.”

“Listen, mate, clearly I do wanna give you the point, otherwise we start over and I’m stuck with E again—”

“Egghead, then,” says Eugene.

“You give me shit about eggface, and then you turn right around and—?”

“The difference,” Eugene interrupts, “is that egghead is an actual insult, in, you know, the English language?”

“Prove it.”

Eugene scrubs one hand over his face. His hair feels gritty. So does his skin. It’s so dark out that his eyes hurt, trying to keep focused on the narrow flashlight beam before them. The pipe he’d been using as a weapon cracked in half two days ago, and now he’s got a long-handled shovel instead, gripped too tightly in both hands.

“Where, exactly, are you expecting me to pull a dictionary from?” says Eugene, and Jack lets out a dry, rattling laugh like a burst of static, quickly swallowed back. Eugene can’t really judge him for the immaturity. Nerves. Adrenaline. A dangerous degree of sleep deprivation. All of the above.

“D’you hear something?” Jack whispers, and it’s Eugene’s turn to force down ill-advised hysterical laughter because yes, he heard something, he’s been hearing something for the last hour, ever since they realized the valley where they’d tried to set up camp was overrun with the biggest swarm of crawlers they’ve ever had the misfortune of not being able to see in the failing light.

“Nothing new,” says Eugene, in the calmest undertone he can force out of his mouth.

Jack had knocked them away in all directions, swinging W.G. with a savagery that was no longer surprising but very welcome, and Eugene had done his part with the shovel, but there had never been any hope of cleaning out the area, not with the two of them and only one flashlight. All they could do was clear a retreat.

There must have been an explosion out here at some point. An explosion or a giant fire, because Eugene can’t think of any other explanation why—there’s just so many, it’s like a tide coming in…

They’re crawlers, he keeps reminding himself. You don’t need to kill them all. Crawlers are slow. They’re low to the ground. Running is a waste of energy right now, and dangerous in the darkness. All Jack and Eugene need to do is keep walking until the sun rises again and it’s possible to get a sense of their bearings, find high ground, make a stand or make sure they’ve shaken the last of the horde. If they can keep at a brisk pace all night, they should be fine.

They just need to keep walking. They just need to stay awake.

They were already so tired that they didn’t notice they were unrolling the sleeping bag in a nest of the undead until it was almost too late.

The forest floor behind them is a seething, biting, scratching tide that wants to kill them, but even with every twig snap signaling that they are not safe, Eugene can feel his brain trying to shut off.

But. It’s fine. He just needs to—they just need to—

“Arrogant,” says Jack.

“What are you—” Eugene figures it out a long, stupid second later. “Yeah. Sorry. Uh, brigand.”

“Cranky.”

“Not an insult.”

A stray crawler drags itself into view of the flashlight beam, and Jack drives W.G. into its head. “Well, it’s not a compliment,” he counters. “Fine. Crazy.”

“If you object to ‘easy’, then I’m gonna have to object to—”

“How about ‘Canadian’, then.”

“Annoying,” Eugene fires back, and Jack makes a quiet sound of protest that breaks off into a quiet sound of resignation.

“Boring.”

“C—” Eugene feels a tug on his shoe and he whirls around, slamming the shovel into something that has a little too much give. Whoever it used to be, they must’ve died a while ago.

The tug stops. His skin prickles. His hands are shaking. He’s done this a thousand times before but it’s so, so much worse in the dark.

Jack swings the flashlight around. “Nothing else gaining,” he observes. “That one must’ve come out of the bushes or something. You alright?”

Eugene nods, pointless since Jack won’t see, and takes a deep breath. He can still feel his heart beating in his ears. “Cowardly,” he says at last.

“No,” Jack’s voice is soft, almost pleading, “hey, it’s okay to be scared, this is more than anyone would—oh. Yeah. Uh, Dim.”

“Ersatz,” says Eugene.

“Okay, you can’t just—string sounds together and invent new words—”

“Ersatz,” Eugene repeats. “It means fake.”

“Fine,” says Jack. “What’s—oh, F. Uh, fake!” Eugene imagines a flicker of smugness on his face.

“Greasy.”

“Oi!”

With every step, Eugene’s fighting to keep his head up. Part of him thinks, what’s the point? He’s so goddamn tired. He just wants to curl up and—what an ignoble way to die, to survive three weeks on the road and come to an end just handing the zombies their dinner. (Ignoble. He makes a mental note, in case they ever make it up to I. Unlikely: this is the first time they’ve gotten as far as G.)

“Shit,” Jack mumbles, “what’s next, H. Huh. Hah. Herpes.”

Case in point.

“Not an insult,” says Eugene with infinite weariness.

“Again, not a compliment,” and thank God for Jack’s bone-headed objections, thank God for his inability to play the game right for more than thirty seconds because at this point, Eugene’s frustration is the main force keeping his eyes open.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t make it an insult. You wouldn’t say, ‘well, that’s herpes.’ You wouldn’t call someone ‘herpes’—”

“Just watch me,” says Jack. “Just watch me, you…herpes.”

Eugene rolls his eyes. “I’m gonna punch you on the arm right now,” he says. “On your left side. Just telling you so you don’t startle and try to hit me with the bat.”

“Okay,” Jack says, and Eugene taps one fist against his left bicep.“Ow!”

“Keep it down,” Eugene whispers.

“You punched me!”

“You said ‘okay!’”

Foliage crashes maybe twenty meters ahead of them, loud enough that it can’t be a crawler, must be something that can stagger upright. ‘Great, you scared up a zombie,’ Eugene doesn’t actually say, because he’s not that petty. The flashlight is weak, which means they have to keep heading forward, waiting for the thing to come into view.

“Har…bing…ing,” says Jack.

A shape emerges in the thin streak of light. It slouches towards them, one foot rhythmically sweeping the ground. Most of the flesh has sloughed off the lower half of its face, so its mouth is all jagged teeth, hanging open too wide—

Eugene darts forward, strikes out hard with the edge of the shovel, knocking the creature onto its side so that Jack can deliver the killing blow. The thing stills. They keep walking.

“Harbinging,” Jack says again. His voice wavers at the edges.

Eugene didn’t get a good look, but he thinks it was wearing a uniform. A cop, maybe. A security guard. A paramedic. He tries to sigh but it’s half a shudder.

“Not an insult,” he gets out. “Also, not a word.”

“Anal retentive,” says Jack.

“Brainless.”

“Not yet,” mutters Jack, and they both giggle like five-year-olds.

“Oh shit, what, uh—what’s next?”

“The letter E,” says Eugene.

Jack yawns. His footsteps are slowing. They’ve been slowing for a while. Jack hasn’t slept well lately, even by their current lax standards. Eugene keeps trying to push the thought to the back of his mind but it won’t stay: however bad he feels right now, Jack must somehow feel worse.

“Come on,” says Eugene.

“Do we—d’we really need to keep walking,” Jack slurs out. He yawns again. “If we just—rested, for fifteen minutes, I would have so much more energy to—”

In a way, Eugene’s glad that Jack’s said the words out loud. Now he can argue with it, instead of letting it gnaw at him. (Gnaw: a poor choice of words, under the circumstances.)

“If we stop walking,” Eugene reminds him, “we both fall asleep.”

“Mmmm,” says Jack, low, deep in his throat. Because he’s exhausted, obviously, not because—well, actually, Eugene’s statement doesn’t even work in a dirtier context.

Eugene does something he almost never does then, which is to really zero in on the confused thread of nerves and arousal that runs through his dealings with Jack.

It would be so much easier, so much safer, to write the whole thing off as a lost cause—the least of many, now. But without sounding conceited, well. Sometimes Jack will smile at him for no reason, or joke-flirt with only the flimsiest of punchlines. More than once, Eugene’s caught him guiltily jerking his eyes away from the lines of a tattoo in a way that felt downright promising.

Of course, Jack could simply be that friendly. Jack could be that oblivious, that clumsy at picking up on his own innuendos. Jack doesn’t seem like the kind of guy with incredible impulse control, and in three weeks, he hasn’t made a move. Neither has Eugene, but.

But. If Eugene’s wrong, that’s a surefire way to make everything excruciatingly awkward for the rest of their lives. However much longer that winds up being.

The uncertainty of it jangles, like a chord that won’t resolve. A month ago, Eugene would’ve been climbing the walls to avoid these kinds of thoughts, but now it’s like his annoyance with the alphabet game: focusing on the raw edges drags his brain back to something like wakefulness.

“Shit!” A step behind him, Jack stumbles wildly, falls. The flashlight hits the ground and Eugene scrambles blind for it, drops it twice, and swivels the shaky beam onto Jack’s face. Jack’s breathing hard. He’s not fighting anything Eugene can see, but he could be in shock, could be too late already, could be—

“Crawler?” Eugene asks, shovel heavy and urgent in his hand.

“..tree branch.” Jack sounds maybe a little too tired to be sheepish.

“You okay?”

“Stubbed my toe,” Jack says pitiably.

Eugene’s not sure if he wants to laugh or scream. “I meant,” he hisses, “any broken skin or—” Zombie infection, he doesn’t need to finish. If a branch brought Jack down, it could’ve tripped something else, something that left part of itself behind.

“Uh,” says Jack, “I don’t—I don’t think so, but—” They’re both wearing boots and jeans, for exactly this reason. Long sleeves, but Jack had pushed his up. Eugene rakes the light over his elbows, his forearms, his hands. Clear.

He lets out a breath, less steady than he’d like. “You’re good,” says Eugene. “Okay, c’mon, up.”

Jack doesn’t move. He laughs, hiccupy. “Don’t you think at some point, it gets—diminishing returns?” he says. “Walking all night. It’s just.”

“Get up,” Eugene says again, more urgently. Staying crawler-height in the dark in an unsecured area is so stupid he doesn’t have words for it.

“Do you—” Jack yawns. “Even hear anything behind us. D’you see anything. Anything but, but fucking trees?”

Looking would mean moving the flashlight beam away from Jack, who is unharmed and whole and patting the ground next to him with a sleepy smile and—definitely about to get them both killed.

Adrenaline itches in Eugene’s bloodstream. “Get up, dummy.”

“So tired.”

“Do you think I’m not? Get up.” Fear rises in his throat like bile. Jack blinks up at him, distant. “Jack. Are you really gonna let me win the game?”

Jack’s eyes are slipping shut. “Let’s be honest with ourselves,” he mumbles, “like I was ever gonna think of something for E.”

Eugene looks down at Jack, curling up on the ground, and feels something bleak and desperate overtake him, like jumping headfirst into icy water. He can’t stay here, he can’t leave Jack, he can’t—

“Get. Up.” He can’t recognize his own voice.

“Can’t.”

“No,” says Eugene. “No. You don’t get that option.” Jack’s lying on his side, eyes closed, shadows lurching all around him although maybe that’s because the flashlight won’t stop trembling. Eugene nudges him in the ribs with one foot. “Get up,” he says. “Get up, Jack.” Another nudge. “I can keep going. Jack. Get up.” Nudge. “I’m not stopping until you get up. Come on.” Nudge. “Jack. Swear to god, I can stay here all night, I am not leaving until—”

Jack lifts his head. “Wanker,” he grumbles, but he takes the flashlight when it’s offered, lets Eugene grab an elbow and haul him to his feet.

Something unclenches in Eugene’s chest. He laughs softly. “Oh buddy,” he says as they start forward again, “we’re not nearly to W yet.”

“Can we play a different game,” Jack pleads a few minutes later. “Alphabet’s not so much holding my attention.”

‘We can do anything you want, just stay awake,’ Eugene thinks. “Tell me a story,” he says.

There’s a pause. There’s such a long pause he starts to worry Jack’s somehow fallen asleep while walking.

“You’re asking me to talk,” Jack says slowly.

“Yeah?”

“You don’t like when I talk.”

“It’s fine,” says Eugene.

“You—complain about it, all the—”

Even with a full night’s sleep, Eugene wouldn’t have the energy for this conversation. “If it really bothered me,” he says, reasonable, “how would I have managed to put up with you all this time?”

Jack starts to list to the side. Eugene pulls him back.

“Flatterer,” says Jack.

“A story,” says Eugene. “Talk.”

“About what?”

“Anything. The—the worst date you ever went on.”

“Already told you that.”

This is true, Eugene remembers. It had started with the other guy showing up at the bar already drunk out of his mind, and ended with Jack’s would-be suitor vomiting on a stranger’s jacket and starting an actual bar brawl. (“Yeah, so I just—left. Silver lining, he never noticed me slipping out through the kitchen. Too busy menacing someone with a snooker cue.”)

“I don’t know,” Eugene says. “Think outside the box.”

“And then, ah, everyone else leaves—Innkeeper Lady, Mr. Innkeeper Lady, Messy-Hair, Colonel Mustard, Wacky Russian Guy, and In-Retrospect-Probably-a-Lesbian. It’s just Dour Older Lady. And she turns on the radio, and Three Blind Mice starts playing. No, wait, that doesn’t make sense, why would that be on the radio?”

“Why indeed,” says Eugene. His grasp of time is hopelessly turned around but with any luck it’s been at least an hour. Feels more like four.

“Anyway,” says Jack, “Point being, she’s alone. Mood is set, it’s very creepy, and then—I think she—sees someone the audience can’t see, and she says, uh, something that’s probably about the plot, and then she gets murdered.”

“Go figure.” They still don’t seem to be walking uphill yet, which is worrying; how much longer is this valley?

“I—uh. Just realized.” Jack sniffs, thoughtful. “Maybe not the best choice—nightmare forest, only one flashlight, a play about people getting picked off one by one—”

“Don’t worry,” Eugene assures him, “You removed any shred of suspense when you picked a story where you didn’t retain a single character’s name.”

“Hey,” says Jack, “I saw it a long time ago, you can’t—huh.”

“What.”

“Nothing,” says Jack.

“What.”

“I might’ve—only now realized, I don’t actually remember how it ends?”

“You don’t remember who the murderer was, in the murder mystery,” Eugene repeats blankly. “That’s—the whole point is how it ends.”

“Okay, yes. But: counter-argument, now it’s a sort of—choose your own adventure.” Jack spreads his arms wide, sending shadows swinging in all directions. “Who do you suspect?”

“Well,” says Eugene, “I think we can safely rule out the dead woman.”

“Barring a pretty mind-blowing twist,” Jack agrees.

“Okay, process of elimination. That only leaves: everyone else.”

Jack yawns. “Who do you want the murderer to be?”

This would be easier, Eugene thinks, if he’d managed to internalize Jack’s long list of not-names. “Colonel Mustard,” he says at last. “I’m a traditionalist.”

“Sure. Colonel Mustard in the study—”

“With a lead pipe,” Eugene throws in.

“With a lead pipe,” says Jack, agreeable. “Y’know, I always wondered about that, in Cluedo. Half the weapons make perfect sense. Revolver, sure. Dagger, okay. Rope, a bit nasty, but fine. But—lead pipe? What, is there a lot of loose piping just hanging around in old mansions?”

“They could’ve brought it from home.” Eugene’s feet are still in motion but they’re beginning to feel oddly disconnected from his body, as if his head is floating high above the ground, through a fog.

“But why, though,” Jack goes on. “If you could bring anything. Why—’oh, this murder-pipe has been in the family for ages’—”

“Not a bad weapon,” says Eugene. It comes out more pensive that he’d like. He feels ridiculous, mourning a broken piece of metal like an old pet. Jack pats him on the shoulder. Actually, Jack goes for Eugene’s shoulder but in the darkness winds up just kind of batting at a nipple. Eugene assumes it’s meant to be comforting, at any rate.

“There, there, it was a fine murder-pipe.” Jack’s voice is soothing, or maybe mocking, or maybe somehow both. ‘Fond’ is the word that slips into Eugene’s thoughts and won’t leave.

Eugene swallows. “Well,” he says, “it was no W.G.”

“Nothing else can be.”

“Colonel Mustard, in the study, with a cricket bat.”

“He can take W.G. over my dead body,” says Jack.

“There’s a time and a place,” Eugene says with a wince, and Jack lets out a bark of laughter.

“Fine, then,” says Jack. “Your turn. Storytime. What’ve you got?”

*

“So Lakshmana is badly injured, and there’s this herb that can save him, but it only grows on one mountain, very far away, and there’s no time. And if he dies, Rama will stop fighting, and Ravana will win. But then, Hanuman the monkey god—”

“Hang on,” Jack interjects. “When you say ‘monkey god,’ what d’you mean?”

“I mean a monkey god,” says Eugene patiently.

“No, but—is he a god of monkeys, or a god to monkeys? Do monkeys worship him? Or is it more like a sea-god, where it’s, y’know, his dominion is monkeys?”

Eugene considers this. As a child, he’d always taken it at face value. “A god who is also a monkey,” he decides at last. “There’s gods, there’s goddesses, and then there’s—”

“The monkey god.”

“Right,” says Eugene. “So, Hanuman, loyal friend that he is, steps forward and says—”

“He can talk,” says Jack. “A talking monkey.”

“A talking monkey god. So, he offers to fly over to the mountain and get the—”

“And he can fly. A flying, talking—”

“Monkey god,” Eugene finishes. “The ‘god’ part, that’s important. So he flies over to the mountain, and when he gets there, he realizes he’s not sure what the herb looks like.”

“Wait. He can talk, he can fly, he’s a god, but he didn’t think to—check a, a garden manual, or—”

“Well,” says Eugene, “I mean. He is a monkey.”

“…fair.”

“So instead, he lifts up the mountain, and he—carries the whole mountain back to the battlefield, herbs and all, and Lakshmana is saved.”

“Because a monkey god carried a mountain.”

“Yes.”

“Out of friendship.”

“Well, and there was a war against demons at stake.” Eugene rubs at his eyes. “But yeah, friendship was a factor.”

Jack seems to mull this over. “Gene?”

“Yeah?”

“Is it, uh, it’s not a problem, is it, that I sort of spent the last few minutes—”

“Mocking my religious and cultural heritage?” Eugene finishes for him, helpfully.

An awkward silence descends. When he speaks again, Jack sounds wretched. “Yeah,” he mumbles, “…that.”

Eugene blinks and remembers, too late, that sarcasm is much easier when the other person can see your face and read your body language and isn’t staggering, exhausted and dehydrated, through a post-apocalyptic hellscape. As a general rule of thumb.

“Oh,” says Eugene, “Don’t worry about it. My mom married a Lutheran named Ben, if that gives you a sense of how traditional we were. I grew up with the stories, but they were—more like fables, I guess.” Except ‘fables’ doesn’t really cover it. He thinks about staying home sick from school, his mom’s hand cool on his forehead as she recounted tales of gods and goddesses to distract from his sore throat. It had felt like a secret he’d had on the other kids, something he could hold over their ready-made place in the world, their unquestioning acceptance of each other, their Lunchables.

The sound of his mother’s voice murmuring the few words of Hindi he can still remember. She must have spoken it around him at other times but he can’t bring anything else to mind.

“Good story,” Jack says.

“I, uh. I always liked it.”

“The power of friendship.”

“I think I might’ve—underplayed the demon war angle,” says Eugene.

“Would you carry a mountain for me?”

The inside of Eugene’s brain feels like it’s been scraped out with a rusty spade. His eyelids burn with the need to close. But if he stops walking, then Jack stops. He forces back a yawn. ‘I already am,’ he thinks.

From the edges of his blurring vision, he can see W.G. swinging by Jack’s side. They’ll need to wipe it down in the morning. Neither of them keep track, but he knows that Jack’s kill count is considerably higher than his. Eugene hesitates sometimes, over thinks it, hates hitting anything too recognizably human. He’s getting better at it. (Part of him isn’t sure he wants to get better.) But it can really fuck with him afterwards. Jack does the fighting when possible, and doesn’t seem to begrudge it.

Deep down, Eugene knows that if they hadn’t met—if he hadn’t tripped over that unwashed, groggy, mud-encrusted bundle of humanity on the outskirts of a rave-turned-bloodbath three weeks ago and spouted off a really regrettable Terminator reference that somehow convinced said smelly hungover man to join forces with a pipe-wielding stranger—it’s likely neither of them would be alive right now.

You could argue they’ve been carrying each other’s mountains for a while.

A soothing thought, which is—not useful right now. “It’s a moot point, since your botany skills are somehow worse than a monkey’s,” says Eugene at last.

Jack makes an indignant sound. “I was gonna say I’d do it for you,” says Jack. “But after that—little comment, I wouldn’t carry you a small hill.”

‘Yes,’ thinks Eugene, ‘stay awake.’ “You couldn’t tell the difference between spinach and nettles.”

“One time,” Jack protests. “One time and it was dark out.”

“It was a memorable one time.”

“Okay,” says Jack. “But, counterpoint: shut up.”

The terrain has finally started shifting into a slight incline that, hopefully, is taking them out of the valley. In another few hours, it might be dawn, but the sky is still dark from end to end. Eugene’s feet are numb. His head is a lightbulb about to burn out, all fraying wires and singed glass. He thinks, ‘When did Jack start calling me Gene?’ He has no idea. Maybe it happened gradually, like the ground sloping uphill.

Daylight is in reach, but only if they can hold out.

Jack’s lagging. If he tries to lie down on the road again, Eugene might not have the energy left to pull him up. It’s a little unclear how they’re both still walking.

“Talk,” says Eugene.

“About what.”

“Whatever’s on your mind.” Eugene forces his voice level, wills himself not to panic. “Whatever you’re thinking, right now.”

“What if you don’t want to know what I’m thinking,” Jack says slowly.

“What,” says Eugene, “another murder mystery without any resolution, or—”

“Would we be friends?” says Jack. “I mean, if we’d—met in the real world.”

“This is the real world.”

Jack sighs, annoyed. “You know what I mean.”

He does. He’s stalling. He doesn’t want to say no, but he also doesn’t want to lie, and he can’t picture them moving in the same circles.

“How would we have met?” Eugene says at last.

“What does it—I dunno, at a party?” Jack offers. “I knew music people, you knew…restaurant people, it—could’ve happened.”

Eugene’s not sold on the overlap, but he dutifully tries to give it a shot. “Depends,” he says.

“On what?”

“Lots of things.” Eugene fails to completely swallow back a yawn. “Whether or not I was there for work, whether we had friends in common, the last time you’d taken a shower.”

“Off the clock, a bunch of friends and how are we not yet sick of the ‘Jack smells’ jokes?” says Jack.

“If I’d come with friends, I might not’ve tried that hard to meet new people,” says Eugene.

Jack snorts, although for once, Eugene has no idea why. “Assume I would’ve talked to you,” he says, which makes sense, because Jack is probably the kind of guy who flourished at parties, chatting with any nearby stranger, perfectly at ease in a crowd.

Eugene thinks of the last party he’d been to, some industry thing hosted by a friend of a friend: a bunch of painfully self-aware neurotic types all fighting to sound smarter and cooler and better informed than each other. He’d hated it, and he’d also hated hating it. The whole exercise made him feel like he was staring into a void. If Jack had shown up there, with his goofy jokes and his puppyish exuberance and his total lack of shame, if he’d looked up at Eugene and smiled and introduced himself, boldly asserted some idiotic stance on a movie they’d both seen, well.

“And let’s say I’d showered before I left,” Jack continues. “Because that is a thing I used to do, you know. Before the world ended.”

“In that case, I probably would’ve tried to go home with you,” thinks Eugene.

Actually, wait, no: he says it. Out loud.

He doesn’t realize this until a beat or two later, when Jack lets out a strained giggle and Eugene remembers what dire embarrassment is.

“It’s the hair, right?” says Jack. “You think you know a guy, and then you discover his secret fetish for gingers. It’s alright, I don’t blame you, everyone has their—”

Eugene shakes his head. It’s still completely dark out. Genius. “That’s not, it’s not,” he says. “I just—have a type.” Had a type? As a whole, the dating scene is paused indefinitely.

“Yes,” Jack says, mock-patiently. “You have a type. Karen Gillian. Scully from the X-Files. Paul Bettany, maybe? Robert Redford, except he’s ancient. And probably dead. Well, they’re all probably dead, but—Please don’t say The Little Mermaid, because—”

“Stop.” Eugene is almost smiling despite himself. “No. God. Not a creepy—redhead obsession. People have types. Like, ‘into music, shorter than me’—”

“That’s convenient, since everyone’s shorter than you,” Jack puts in. “Seeing as you’re freakishly tall.”

Eugene’s not that far above the national average. “Sense of humor,” he continues, before they can get on another tangent about what does and doesn’t count as freakish. “Likes beer and wine but isn’t pretentious about it. Appreciates a good bass riff. Properly—uh, properly disdainful of jam bands. Willing to overanalyze pop culture for hours. Good smile. Nice hands.” Too late, he realizes the list is verging on damningly specific. He clamps his mouth shut.

“Oh,” says Jack. He starts to stumble, and Eugene throws his free arm around Jack’s shoulders, steadying. Jack hums what might be a thanks, leans into it just a bit. “So what you’re. You’re telling me that if we’d met before all of this—you’re saying we would’ve shagged?”

Put that way, it sounds so presumptuous. Eugene winces. “I think I would’ve tried,” he says. “Who knows whether—”

“You’re saying we would’ve shagged,” Jack repeats. He doesn’t sound angry. He doesn’t sound offended. He sounds—confused? Confused and loopy. Fair enough; Eugene’s head still feels disconnected from the rest of his body and everything is surreal. They’re discussing this, like it’s any other conversation. “After—all that talk about easy.” There might be a hint of a smile in Jack’s voice. “Woods, you dog.”

“I would’ve—been respectful about it,” he counters. It’s such a ridiculous thing to say to someone who has saved his life more than once that he laughs a little.

Jack laughs too, thank god. “Oh sure. Gentlemen Gene. A gentleman until the clothes come off,” he says. “Bet you would’ve slunk off before sunrise, though. Tragic. I’d never even get the chance to laugh at your weird breakfast rituals—maple syrup, in your beans, like a madman. And then you wouldn’t have called,” he adds, reproachful.

This is almost terrifyingly astute. If the night had gone badly, Eugene would’ve wanted to forget all about it. If it had gone well, he would’ve woken up desperate to get out of there before the inevitable souring. He would’ve had some excuse. He would’ve found one.

It was, he thinks, easier to write people off when there were so many of them.

“Probably not,” he admits, and every muscle across Jack’s back goes tense, all at once.

“Oh,” says Jack again. This time, there’s something off about his voice, although it’s hard to say what. “Oh, um. You weren’t joking.”

‘Oh,’ thinks Eugene. ‘You were.’ Carefully, he removes his arm.

He’s seized by an urge to apologize, but he has the sense that getting it wrong would be worse than keeping quiet, and he can’t begin to guess what he’s supposed to say.

Jack is the first to break the silence, because that’s what Jack does. “Well, lucky we didn’t meet before all this, then,” he says, and it’s lighter now, still not back to normal, but maybe he’s just tired. Or maybe Eugene’s just tired, and hearing tension that isn’t there. “Imagine: the end of civilization, and there I am, stuck wandering the ruins of England for the rest of all time, just me and that douche who never returned my text.”

The frayed lightbulb feeling worsens. He can almost smell the burning filament. “It’s—you know, it’s nothing personal,” says Eugene.

“Yeah.” Jack sighs. “I know.”

When a pair of zombies comes crashing out of the underbrush, directly in their path, it’s almost a relief.

“That was close,” says Jack, after.

It was close. Closer than it should’ve been, really. Their reflexes are beyond shot. Jack had flat-out missed with the bat a couple of times, which never happens.

“Yeah,” says Eugene. He clenches his fists, trying to keep them steady.

*

“Are we walking uphill?” Jack sounds vaguely surprised.

“We have been, for about an hour.”

“Don’t you think we’ve shaken the crawlers by now?”

There’s an edge of pink to the bottom of the sky but sunrise is a long way away. “I’d just—feel a lot better if we could get someplace with a decent sightline,” Eugene says.

Jack doesn’t agree or disagree. He yawns.

“Come on,” Eugene says when Jack’s steps have slowed to a shuffle. “Come on.” With his free hand, he gives Jack a little push forward.

“Sorry,” Jack mumbles. “I shouldn’t—you’re tired, too.”

“Not as tired as you,” says Eugene.

“What?”

He hadn’t actually meant to say that, either. It’s been a banner night for inadvertently blurting things out.

“You haven’t been sleeping,” Eugene starts, but Jack cuts him off.

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. ‘Oh, stupid Jack, can’t even sleep right’—”

“No,” Eugene says, and then, nonsensically, “I didn’t.” He shakes his head, trying for something like clarity. “If we took longer shifts at night, we could each maybe get another hour.”

“Another hour,” echoes Jack. “Another—do you really think that’s the problem? Do you really think that’s what’s lying at the root of my—sleep issue?” It’s the most alert he’s sounded for some time. “Do you really think it’s not, oh you know, the fact that we are surrounded by fucking monsters, every second of our lives?”

There’s really nothing to say to that. “Still.” Eugene rubs at his eyes. “If an hour would help. We’re not making great time, but—”

“Oh, what is the bloody point,” says Jack suddenly. “Where are we going, Eugene? You said, ‘Let’s get away from London’ and I thought, ‘Makes sense, London’s a big streak of smoke in the sky.’ But what now? We’re just—walking. When was the last time we saw another living person? What are we doing, do we keep walking until we reach the ocean and then turn around, walk the other way? How is this worth it?” His voice cracks. Eugene is glad that the light is still too poor to see his face.

“We’re alive,” says Eugene.

“That’s not what I asked.”

Eugene breathes in and out through his nose. Calm. Be calm. “Something comes after this,” he says. “Remember when we had a working radio? We know there are other survivors. And even if those particular people aren’t—we’ve made it this far, right? So there must be others. England’s not that big. We’ll find them. They’ll cluster, it’s human nature. Three weeks is not that long in the scheme of things. We will find something.”

“Sorry,” says Jack, a little choked. “Sorry. That wasn’t—I’m just so tired.”

“We’ll find something,” Eugene tells him. “And by that time, I’ll have some hilarious jokes about your mystery-telling skills. And you’re the only person with the context to understand them, so.”

“You’re saying I need to make it so you have someone to laugh at your stupid punchlines?”

“Yes,” says Eugene. “Yes, that is literally what I’m saying.”

Jack’s laugh is quiet and shaky but it’s not a noise of pure despair, and so Eugene is counting it as a win. He thinks, that will keep us going for another few hundred steps.

*

“Jack?”

“Mm, what?”

“Jack, you’ve gotta keep walking.”

“I am walking.”

“No you’re not, you’re standing pretty still.”

“‘M trying.”

“Jack?”

“What?”

“Would it help if you leaned on me?”

“What? Uh, maybe?”

“Here.”

Eugene is vaguely aware that they must look idiotic right now, two grown men struggling to climb a hill, tipped towards each other like some sort of drunken three-legged race. Above them, the sky is fading into a full pink, lighting up the peak of the hill. The grass is wet and green. There’s a tree at the top. Walk to the tree, he thinks. Walk to the tree.

He has to keep telling his feet to make each step. Every one is a test of his willpower. The grass squeaks beneath them. It actually looks too green, too sharply delineated from the sky, from their muddy feet.

“Almost there,” he says.

“Whuh?” says Jack, who really is more or less asleep against his shoulder this time.

The last few meters to the tree are a blur in Eugene’s mind, but then there they are at the trunk, and then they are settling onto the ground, no longer on their feet. Eugene sits up, bracing his back against the bark.

“Give me your pack and I’ll unroll the sleeping bag,” he says, as Jack flops onto the ground.

“‘M fine,” Jack says. He lays his head on Eugene’s thigh, asleep almost before his eyes close. Eugene watches him snore and realizes then that one of them will need to keep a lookout. Which one of them will it be? A mystery all too easy to solve.

“Okay,” Eugene says, to nobody in particular. “Okay, great.”

They’re still resting at the base of the tree, Jack pillowed against Eugene’s leg, Eugene slapping himself in the face at odd intervals to stay awake, when he hears a woman’s voice from behind him, tentative.

“Is, um, everything okay?” she asks.

And that’s how they meet their first fellow survivors.

*

It turns out that the most embarrassing thing about meeting another person after days and days of living as a scavenger on the road is not realizing that she’d definitely caught him smacking his own face in a futile effort to stay alert, or that Jack is still snoring and lightly sleep-drooling against his thigh, or even that maybe just before she’d showed up, Eugene had been using his free hand to carefully brush the hair off Jack’s forehead, you know, so it wouldn’t be in his eyes. As he slept.

No, the single most humiliating aspect of the whole affair is that Eugene’s response to her wide-eyed, earnest question, a question which carries with it obvious undertones of “Are you dying?” or “Have the pressures of this new world chipped away enough of your sanity that I should be worried for my life?”—

Eugene’s response is to blurt out “Fine, thanks, how ‘bout you?” in one breath, a little too loud, in something close to the bland, polite tone he used to use on cashiers or waiters or co-workers he didn’t know especially well.

‘Jack must never find out about this,’ he thinks, halfway hysterical.

The woman blinks at him. She’s got dark brown skin, a thick-bordering-on-unintelligible accent that might be Welsh, an axe in one hand. 

“Kelly!” she calls out in a low voice. “Kelly, I found some people.”

“Y’mean bodies,” says—Kelly, apparently, striding up behind her. “Really, dear, healthier in the long run if you can stop seeing them as—” She catches sight of Eugene. “Oh.” Her eyes narrow. She’s considerably smaller than her friend but older, and something in the set of her jaw suggests that she’s the one to watch out for. “Who’re you, what’re you doing here?”

“I, uh. I’m Eugene and this is Jack,” says Eugene. “Sorry if we’re—trespassing, or. We didn’t know that you—we were just passing through. Uh. You know how it is.” He gives an awkward laugh.

Kelly and not-Kelly exchange a look. Kelly jerks her chin down at Jack. “Is he bit?”

“No,” says Eugene.

“Are you bit?”

Annoyance flashes through whatever numbing survival instinct has kept him halfway calm. “If I’d been bitten, do you really think he’d be sleeping right here?”

“Could’ve lied,” Kelly tells him. “People lie, you know.”

Eugene can’t repress his shudder. He doesn’t have the energy for it. “Well, I wouldn’t do that to him,” he says.

“That’s very sweet,” says Kelly. “You gonna be offended if me and my friend Eira check you anyway?”

They’re armed, and at any rate, they have no real reason to trust him. “Go ahead.”

Kelly doesn’t try to touch either of them, which he appreciates. When she needs to, she asks Eugene to move, to lift up his shirt, to turn Jack’s arms over. It’s dispassionate, almost professional. It feels weirdly like a check-up at the doctor’s.

Eira hangs to the side with her arms crossed, looking bored. “Thanks,” she says at one point, “Being a real sport about this, Jack.”

Eugene frowns. “No, I’m Eugene, he’s—”

“Right,” says Eira. She glances down at Jack, still asleep with his face scrunched up against the rising sun. “He’s cute.”

Eugene’s no less exhausted than he was before. His thoughts feel like they’re covered in a murky film. So he can’t be sure what possesses him to snap, “He’s gay.” 

Unfortunately, he might be able to guess.

“Okay,” she says, laughing a little. She raises her hands in the air as if to telegraph I’m harmless, but she doesn’t put down the axe first so the effect is—mixed.

“You’re both clear,” Kelly declares at last. She crouches down to bring her face level with Eugene’s and holds out a slightly grimy water bottle. “Want some?”

“What?” says Eugene.

“Water,” says Kelly. “Since now we know you won’t repay the favor by going grey and eating our brains.”

He takes the bottle and sips cautiously. It’s warm but cleaner-tasting than anything he’s drank in—maybe weeks. He takes another sip and glances down at Jack, trying to figure out if it’s worth waking him up for a few mouthfuls of water, if the dehydration outweighs the sleep deprivation or the other way around. 

When he looks up, the simple motion of his eyes makes him dizzy. It takes a few sluggish seconds to work out that the reason he can’t eavesdrop on Kelly and Eira’s conversation is that they’re not speaking any language he knows. He hunts for clues in their faces and gestures, but all he gets is that they seem basically in agreement about something. Hard to tell if that’s reassuring or not. They could be saying, ‘Yes, great, let’s bash their heads in and take all their possessions.’ Unlikely, he tries to convince himself. If they’re not wasting water on future zombies, they’re not wasting it on future murder victims either.

Kelly turns, catches him watching. “Gonna go check in with the others,” she tells him over her shoulder. She gives him something like a smirk. “You boys stay put.”

Eira lingers behind. Eugene can’t tell if she’s meant to keep him and Jack from leaving, or to keep them from getting eaten. He sags back against the tree. 

“Is Eu—is Jack really gonna sleep through all this?” says Eira.

Eugene rubs at his forehead, which might as well weigh fifty pounds. Everything is getting a little dreamlike, but this is a question he knows the answer to.

“He slept through the first thirteen hours of the end of the world,” he tells her.

“Whoa,” she says, eyes wide. “That’s a bad wake-up.”

The first day or two, Jack was quiet, distant, agreeable verging on pliant in a way that, in retrospect, gets more upsetting the longer Eugene thinks about it. “Are you guys military?” he says instead, remembering Kelly’s cool detachment, how prepared they seem.

Eira’s response is a long, snorting laugh. “No,” she says. “No.” She sucks in a breath. “We were on vacation. Off-road mountain biking and camping. A kind of a—wilderness adventure thing.”

“Well,” he says, light, “guess you got at least fifty percent more adventure than you bargained for.” 

Any trace of a smile drops off Eira’s face. “That’s—in very poor taste,” she says quietly.

“Yeah.” Eugene scrubs a hand over his eyes, yawns. “Sorry. Uh, so have you been in the area long?”

“Yesterday and the night before,” she says. “We’re holed up in an old cottage. Not a bad place. Just stay out of the valley down there.” She gestures back the way that Jack and Eugene came. “Packed with—”

“Crawlers,” says Eugene. “Yeah.”

“You heard?”

“We’ve been,” he says. “All last night.”

“Fuck,” says Eira, half-laughing again. “You two’re stupid.” She sounds almost impressed.

“Yeah,” Eugene says absently. “Maybe.” He yawns again. 

“How’d you two meet, anyway?”

Eugene’s brain is starting to lurch in and out of full awareness. He knows that he knows the whole story but in that moment he can’t begin to see his way through all the steps of telling it.

“There was—a rave,” he manages. “Kind of.”

He wonders why he didn’t notice earlier how comfortable it is to sit like this, propped up with tree bark digging into his spine through his shirt, Jack’s head heavy on his thigh. He tips his own head back against the tree. Amazingly, the trunk bears its weight. “Do you mind if I’m falling asleep now,” he says. Thinks he says. Might say. At any rate, he’s not awake to hear the answer.

*

“—wake them up, d’you think? Doubt we can carry them,” someone says. Eugene blinks. When he opens his eyes again, the sky is brighter than he remembers, and Kelly has returned.

“How long was I out,” says Eugene, squinting.

“Under an hour,” says Kelly. She crosses her arms and gives a slight, ironic smile. “Long enough for a lively debate back at the house about whether to trust you two.”

The inside of Eugene’s mouth is dry and sticky. He finds the water bottle where he left it at the base of the tree. He takes a sip.

“What’s the verdict,” he croaks.

“If you’re raiders or bandits, you’re very bad at it,” Kelly tells him. She clears her throat. “So here’s the situation. We’ve got some errands that need doing. Nothing too dangerous, but we could use the help. If you two lend a hand, we can guarantee a safe place to stay for a day or two. You want to talk it over with y—with Jack, fine by us.”

He can’t imagine Jack turning down a chance to help some friendly survivors, any more than he can imagine Jack passing up the opportunity to eat something other than Spam. Still, it seems shitty to make the decision unilaterally. Come to think of it, the discovery of other living humans might’ve merited waking him up in the first place. 

“Jack,” says Eugene loudly. Jack makes a vague, sleepy noise and rolls over without opening his eyes. “Jack.” Eugene pokes him in the back of the neck. “Hey. Jack.”

“N’ready yet,” Jack mumbles, blindly grabbing a fistful of Eugene’s shirt as if trying to burrow away into his stomach. The tip of his nose is cold, almost ticklish, which may be why Eugene is laughing as he says, 

“Now, Jack, that’s no way to behave in front of company.”

“Mmh?” says Jack.

“Um, hello,” says Eira.

At the sound of an unfamiliar voice, Jack startles badly, limbs flopping in all directions as he flails around to face her. Eugene dodges a knee and then and elbow and thinks, ‘This is a man who regularly kills monsters.’

“—the hell,” breathes Jack, staring up at the strangers.

“And you must be Jack,” says Kelly. “Nice to meet you, kid. Shall we get a move on?”

Kelly quickly briefs Jack on the way back to the house. Some amount of spring has returned to Jack’s step. Either half a REM cycle did him good or he’s that excited to talk to new people.

“So,” he says, “mountain biking adventure-campers, huh?” From the sound of his voice, he’s smiling. “Wow, at least you got your money’s worth on the adventure front.”

The joke goes no better the second time. If anything, the silence feels more pointed. “Uh, tough room,” Jack mumbles. 

“Jack,” says Eugene in a low voice, trying to shoot him a look that’s equal parts commiseration and ‘maybe we can try to remind each other that not everyone deals with intensive trauma by cracking jokes about the trauma.’ Jack just rubs his eyes and frowns, confused. ‘Later,’ Eugene mouths. “Kelly, you said you needed help with some chores?”

“Yeah.” She glances back over her shoulder at them. “Uh, what are the odds you lot know anything about bike repair?”

“Not unless your bicycle’s attached to an amp and a wah wah pedal,” says Jack.

“A what pedal?” Eira chips in from the back.

“It makes guitar effects,” Eugene tells her. 

“Did some work as a sound technician,” Jack says. “Back, uh. Before.” Regret flickers across his face as soon as he’s said it. Funny how simple words used to be so harmless.

“Still not sure it counts as a job if the band only pays you in beer,” Eugene says, and if his voice comes out a bit brittle, it’s hopefully a bridge to something that could pass at a distance for ordinary conversation.

“Hey!” The impact of Jack’s mock-outrage is blunted by the way the back of his hair is sticking almost straight up. “I’ll have you know, the barter system is an ancient and noble tradition—”

Eira has been glancing back and forth between them for a long moment. “Do you—is that a streak of glitter behind your right ear?” she asks Jack at last.

It is. It’s been there since the day they met. 

Still walking, Jack reaches up, rubs behind his right ear, and scrutinizes his hand. “Oh my god,” he says, rounding on Eugene, “have I had glitter on the back of my head since Hampshire?”

Regardless of the circumstances, Eugene has to bite the inside of his cheek before he can manage to say, calm, level, “Why, Jack? How would you have gotten glitter on you since then?”

“That was three weeks ago!” Jack hisses.

“It’s almost like you should wash your face more carefully, or—”

“This is not my face!” Jack says, gesturing at the back of his head. “No amount of face-washing was going to reach the behind-the-face area! You areshole, you knew this whole time, and you said nothing?”

“I thought it was maybe just your natural sparkle,” Eugene manages, and then he loses it.

[drabbles-mc]

The Bridge

Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto Fanfic

Warnings: 18+, all angst all day, grief/mourning, mentions of death/suicide

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: There are many reasons I've been so MIA lately but the crippling Depression and debilitating Grief are just a few! But I did manically write this at midnight one night and finally got the time to edit it so I can post it. Watching the Dead Sibling Show while being part of the Dead Sibling Club obviously gave me Very Normal Feelings about it all.

The Bear Taglist: @garbinge @withmyteeth @narcolini @justreblogginfics (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

He could feel the incessant vibrating of his phone inside the pocket of his jeans. He’d stopped checking it about three blocks into his walk. He’d lost count of how many he’d walked since then. He wished that the stroll could’ve felt mindless, like taking off with no real destination in mind. But he knew exactly where he was going.

For such a busy day, people sure were finding plenty of fucking time to call and text him. Sure, he could’ve put his phone on silent. He could’ve turned it off. Hell, the thought crossed his mind to throw it on the street so it got pulverized by oncoming traffic and he wouldn’t have to deal with it any more. But, no, he left it in his pocket. Maddening when it shouldn’t have been in light of everything else.

He wondered if they were still leaving voice-mails. Maybe they just kept calling hoping that maybe he would get annoyed enough to answer, annoyed enough to reroute himself. There was still time. It wasn’t too late, not for him anyway.

More texts came in, but once he’d read a few, he knew he’d read them all.

“where the fuck are you?”

Missed Call

“mom is asking for you"

“So sorry for your loss.”

Missed Call

“bear? You good? Call me back.”

“you should be here"

“Sorry I can’t make it.”

“I love you"

“Everyone but you is showing up to this. What the fuck.”

“we miss you”

“Sorry for your loss.”

Missed Call

“you shouldn’t be alone right now”

“I need you.”

“Mom needs you.”

“get your shit together cousin”

“love you, carmy”

“There’s still time if you can make it.”

“Sorry for your loss.”

“sorry for your loss"

When he reached the bridge, he thought about throwing his phone over the side of it. Then he thought about throwing himself over the side right along with it. That might be too dramatic though, killing himself in the same place Mikey did. Doing it on the day of his funeral. The funeral he refused to go to. It'd be quite the excuse for missing it. No one would be able to deny that.

But he didn’t do any of it.

He stood on the edge of the sidewalk, the poor excuse for a shoulder on the road. His heart pounded in his chest, blood rushing in his ears. The inside of his body was making so much noise it completely drowned out the rest of Chicago, and that wasn’t even counting the racing thoughts in his head.

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. The breeze was cold against his bare arms. It wasn’t cold enough to break out his winter jacket yet. Truthfully, he wouldn’t have worn it even if it had been that cold. He wasn’t looking to be comfortable.

His fingertips brushed against the back of his phone. He’d barely gotten his hands situated when it vibrated again. He yanked his hands out quickly, like he’d grabbed onto a scalding handle in the kitchen on accident.

Tears stung at his eyes and he blamed them on the wind. He cursed quietly under his breath, muttering to no one but himself, hurriedly wiping them away.

It must’ve been a different bridge in the middle of the night, he thought as he watched all the cars passing him by. None of them knew they were driving over a crime scene, a murder mystery that Carmy was never going to be able to crack. It was sunny and windy and cold. People were driving to get lunch and grab coffee. He could hear music from some of their cars. None of them knew what they were doing to him.

He wondered how quiet it was when Mikey was there. Did he have to wait for traffic to slow down? Did he even care? He probably didn’t care. Why would he? He wondered if Mikey still would’ve pulled the trigger if he’d gone out onto the bridge in the middle of the afternoon like this. Carmy couldn’t picture killing himself in that moment, not with the sun and the pigeons and the traffic. Not because it was all too beautiful to leave behind, but because God there were just so many eyes on him even if they weren’t really looking at him.

He wished Mikey was there. He wished he’d come back so Carmy could push him into traffic himself for all that his brother had put everyone through.

Mikey probably wouldn’t even care that Carmy wasn’t going to the funeral anyway. If he cared about shit like that so much maybe he should’ve said something at some point over the last two years. Maybe he shouldn’t have killed himself if he gave a damn about Carmy showing up to things. But he didn’t. And now he was gone.

He paced up and down the length of the bridge. He studied the sidewalk beneath his feet. The same cracks passed beneath the soles of his shoes. More cars passed by, but Carmy didn’t watch any of them now. The wind blew, his heart was racing just as much with anxiety as with all the exertion. This was the closest thing to exercise Carmy had done in years. He was fucking winded but he couldn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. Had to keep going.

And then he couldn’t.

His legs locked up for a moment as if to brace him before they stopped working completely. He crumpled to the ground with a surprising amount of grace for someone who hasn’t slept or eaten much at all in the last week. Nicotine could only replace so many meals before it caught up to him.

He sat on the sidewalk, legs bent at the knees. He wrapped his arms around them and leaned against his legs. It was the closest thing he had to support in the moment. His phone buzzed again in his pocket.

He blinked a couple times. His vision was blurry and rather than admit it was from the tears, he blamed it on the exhaustion. No one was there to tell him otherwise.

His eyes focused on the street in front of him. Cracked pavement just beyond the curb. He could’ve sworn that he could still see bloodstains between the cars. It was ridiculous, of course. It was untrue. It’d been hosed. It’d rained since then. Nothing about Mikey could be forced to stick around. But he could still swear that he saw it. Rusty smudges against faded paint lines and sun-bleached blacktop.

The wind coming off a car going exceptionally fast nearly knocked him over. He let go of his legs, palms slamming sown onto the sidewalk to keep him upright. Only for him to lift one hand with a curse, looking down to see that he’d sliced his palm open on a shard of broken glass. There was a red smear on the sidewalk where he’d pulled his hand away. More of him was on the streets of Chicago now than Mikey. That didn’t seem quite right.

He wiped his hand on his jeans. The blood would have to stop on its own eventually.

The blood rushing in his ears got quieter. Maybe just enough leaked out of his palm to dull the noise for now. How quiet Mikey's body must’ve been on this bridge, then, if that was how it worked.

His phone buzzed. Another missed call. More tears he’d never admit to.

Mikey wasn’t really at the funeral, why should Carmy be there? There was more of Mikey in the crevices of the bridge than in that closed casket in the funeral home.

Carmy ignored the burning sensation coming from the cut in his hand as he continued to stare at the street. Mikey had never set foot in that stuffy old building where they had his body now. He’d never been there before and in Carmy's opinion he still wasn’t there now.

But the bridge. He’d been to the bridge before. He’d been there and really, he never left. He made damn sure of that.

Carmy almost wished that he didn’t have to leave either.

[lord-explosion-baku]

Okay meeps my dearest, your threesome post with aizawa and shirakumo got me thinking about this scenario:

In another time-line you're a secretary for their agency and aizawa is crushing on you hard and since he's shy he just you stalks you, you know yandere fun. Shirakumo being the good friend that he is want to help his friend boost his confidence and have some fun and one night while working late they manage to get you in quite a scandalous position maybe blackmail is evolved maybe something else 😉

Anyways I'm off to horny jail, love you meeps ❤

God, I love it

Just thinking about Shirakumo all confident, but still being dark and pushy, calling you such a naughty little intern/secretary, all while backing you up against Aizawa.

You think Aizawa is safe, so you kinda relax, until he nestles his nose against your head, wraps his hands around you waist, and breathes in your scent. The more you squirm against him, the harder that bulge against your back feels. When he lets out a low groan, and pulls you tighter against him, that’s when you’ll know you’re in trouble.

Having Shirakumo explain to you how things are gonna be from now on, while Aizawa’s hands are already all over you. Shirakumo can handle the technicalities, Shouta just wants you—to feel you, to love you, to never let you out if his sight.

“Looks like they’re already warming up to the idea,” Shirakumo would say with a far too bubbly lilt in his voice. He sees you shutter and gasp at Shouta’s touch when you’re almost halfway undressed. And that would be when he’ll close in on you.

“Mhmm,” Shirakumo would hum against your lips before drinking in your inarticulate breaths. He’d hook his fingers around your panties and grin when your eyes would grow wide. “Yeah, this is definitely an arrangement we could all benefit from. Isn’t that right, Sho?”

But Aizawa wouldn’t be listening. He’ll be too focused on how perfectly your ass fits in the palms on his hands, how warm your skin is, how he can’t wait to be inside you. He would allow Shirakumo to share you for now, because he knows that he wouldn’t have gotten in this situation without him, but god can he not wait for this situation to progress.

Aizawa is a patient man, so he can bear to have Shirakumo around for a while. But sooner or later, he’ll make sure that you’re his and his alone.

You’re his gift, he thinks, and Shirakumo is bound to get bored.

But that’s sure to change when it turns out that Shirakumo likes this little arrangement a little too much.

[court-of-forever-undone]

I Knew You’d Come Back to Me

Chapter Two: Slept next to her, but I dreamt of you (Cardan’s POV)

Summary:  While homesick and heartbroken in the mortal world, Jude finds a pile of letters on her doorstep that include an official pardon and a love confession from Cardan. What is supposed to be a happy reunion quickly falls apart when Jude is told Cardan has returned to Nicasia in her absence. 

Cardan is determined to make it up to Jude. 

**This fic is inspired by the love story between Taylor Swift’s characters Betty, James, and August.**

Should you wish to listen: Cardigan | Betty | August

Tags: Multiple POVs, angst and a happy ending, Jurdan, post-wicked king, canon divergence

Masterlist

Read on AO3

Four Months Post Exile

If she has decided that she wishes to stay away and forget about Elfhame, me, then I will forget about her as well. Except that I can’t because for the eternity she has been gone there has been nothing to rid my thoughts of her.

I grab the nearest pitcher of wine, not that they are ever far from my reach as of late, and swallow as much of the tart liquid as I can. At least if I pass out there is a chance I may dream of her, or dream of losing her. But it is a chance I am willing to take.

There is a revel happening, for a reason I cannot remember. Probably honoring some guest that I cannot be bothered to care about at this point. I tend to the kingdom as best as I can for the day, but by the time the dawn is rising I do everything I can to forget the subtle human features that haunt me. The curve of her ear, the flush in her cheeks, the softness of her form.

Since she has been gone there has been an unbearable ache in my chest that only seems to worsen at her memory. I’ve taken back up with a variety of powders that I grew accustomed to at Balekin’s parties. The numbing sensation is highly preferable to the agonizing dread that awaits me in sobriety. At least when time passes differently, I can imagine that she is home again, or at the very least, I can pass more days until she returns.

Her return seems more and more uncertain because despite my letters, she has not come home, nor even responded to them. She has made no inclination that she intends to return, which is ridiculous because she is the queen. When she returns I will have to remember to remind her of all the accusations she threw my way at neglecting responsibilities, meanwhile she has spent months in the mortal world as if waiting for me to come bring her home myself.

I grin at the idea. A trip to the mortal world could quickly end this ridiculous torture. At least I would have the chance to see her in the flesh.

She could get her anger out and then return home with me. At this point, a curse from her lips would sound like music and her fingers curled around my neck would be ecstasy.

In time, that anger might turn to forgiveness and we can all move on from this nonsense.

Present Day

What a dreadful day today has been. I should have returned to my chambers the moment I was given news of a wine shortage because poisoned wine had been found in the castle’s cellars, because that meant I had to suffer through the small council’s bickering mostly sober, followed by hours of grievance hearings from folk. For a kingdom full of people who find me utterly incompetent, they sure do make plenty of pleas to the crown.

Only one hour remains until I can leave the presence of my court and scout for my own wine to drink, poisoned or otherwise.

“Cardan…?” Nicasia said with the air of a question.

I respond with a non-committal sound before glancing in her direction to my left. Again, she had found a seat nearest mine, despite my repeated reminder that she was no longer entitled to that spot. We were nothing beyond friends with a bit of history, even if my entire council, mother, and Nicasia herself thought it was ridiculous to prolong a “land-sea” alliance any longer.

I turn back to the conversation I had been ignoring and make an appropriate response, before quickly tuning them out again. Courtiers have nothing better to do than waste my time.

Admittedly, I could see my advisors’ point and I haven’t exactly fought to deny Nicasia’s advances anymore. Not when the one I want has rejected me entirely, favoring a mortal over me and forsaking our kingdom to my inadequate rule.

If I were a kinder soul, I might have been content to see her happy and adjusted to the mortal world, but I am not. I hate myself for sending her away and I hate her just as much for not wanting to return. Every time someone suggests I marry, I want to scream the truth for the entire kingdom to hear.

I married the mortal Jude Duarte. I did it so she would release her hold over me, but I also did it because I wanted to. I wanted to make her my queen and share this dreaded life with her; the powerful, defiant, occasionally murderous, human woman with all her soft features and perfectly odd ears.

Pride be damned. If she returned, I’d allow her anything. She would never need a geas to command me. She was already a ruler, she deserved the credit. The court would eventually adjust to the idea of a human ruler once they recognized her rule. I would lead the most devoted of her court and in our bedroom, I would further prove to her just how devoted I was by spreading --

Nicasia’s hand sliding over my knee snaps me from my thoughts. The touch of her hand felt sickly wrong considering my thoughts of Jude. I brush her hand aside and purposefully ignore the hurt look on her face. I may allow her into my room on nights where even the wine and the powders cannot bring me peace, but she knows I am far too sober and there are too many people around for that.

At the edge of my peripheral I see a dark shadow approaching. The Roach; always a welcomed distraction usually armed with wonderfully bad news.

“Come to tell me of another attempt on my life?” I murmur as he bows down to whisper in my ear.

“You are needed at once, your majesty” the goblin reports.

At that, I laugh but make no effort to move. “There is a first for everything. What is it?” I am happy to use whatever matter it is as an excuse to leave, but I am curious what requires my attention that the spies could not handle themselves.

“Jude has returned. She is waiting to see you.”

His words hit like the hilt of a sword to the chest. I stand, jumping the courtier closest to me.

“I have matters to attend to. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” I say to no one in particular, trying to ignore the loud pounding in my ears as my heart threatens to beat out of my chest.

I begin to follow the Roach out of the room when I feel a hand on my arm.

“What is going on?” Nicasia asks, her eyes wide. I shake out of her grasp.

“It is a matter of great importance that does not concern you.” Instead of moving away, like my body demands to, I move in closer to her so only she can hear me. “I meant my words in the gardens. Do not show up this evening or any evening again.”

Her mouth fell slightly open as water rimmed her eyes. I didn't stay for her response, instead I turned back and followed the Roach into the tunnel, knowing every step was bringing me closer to Jude. As we stalk through the hallways, I cannot slow the questions bombarding my mind.

Did she decide against her life in the mortal world? Did she miss me as I have missed her? What should I say to her? Will she allow me to embrace her? Should I announce her return tonight?

I have envisioned dozens of scenarios of what I would say or do when she returned, but now that she is only a few steps away I have no plan past seeing her, holding her if I can, to make sure she is real and not my imagination come to life.

We take the final turn that I know leads to the headquarters for the Court of Shadows when Livier blocks the doorway.

“Where is she?”

I watch as her face contorts. She opens her mouth to respond before closing it again, clearly unsure how to answer. I don’t have patience for this. I have to see her now.

“Move Livier,” I demand.

How many months has it been since we had fallen asleep together after our vows? How long has it been that I’ve felt her pressed against me?

“Cardan, wait!” She exclaims as I try to move past her. “She doesn’t want to see you.”

I stop dead at her words.

Before I can speak, the Roach asks for me, “What do you mean? She sent us to get him.”

The pixie nods. “Yes. She went to the royal chambers, but she returned soon after and has stated she does not wish to speak.”

I cannot help the bite to my words. “To speak to anyone, or just me?”

Her silence gives me my answer. “Why?” I spit out.

She is on the other side of the wall. It has been months, what about my room could have made her decide against seeing me? A darker thought crosses my mind; what if she has decided to return to the mortal world again? The idea threatens to break me then and there in the dark tunnels beneath the castle.

Livier looks at her companion with unease.

“Why?” I demand again.

The Bomb swallows before explaining, “When she returned, she asked how long you and the Princess of the Undersea had been back together.”

My desperation melted into cruel pitiful laughter. She was jealous of Nicasia, while she had herself a human plaything. The hypocrisy was grand. I wonder how her face would look when I asked about the man and how she could possibly blame me when she broke our vows first. My laughter quickly fizzled into a frozen anger.

I needed to leave before the weight of the situation could bear down on me. In all my imaginations, I never predicted this. I had hoped she’d run to my arms or more realistically, slap me followed up with a kiss. But never returning and refusing to see me.

I want to beg to see her. Beg for her forgiveness. Beg her to stay even if she hates me.

As a king, I have every right to go wherever I please. But as a queen, she has the right to deny entry to anyone. So I turn in the tight hallway and take the turn that leads to my rooms.

She is home. She wouldn’t see me, but she is home, which meant I could fix this. She might not see me tonight, but I would win her forgiveness and maybe her love too.

****

After almost two weeks of announcements and planning, Jude’s coronation ball will begin soon. I have still yet to see her in person, but through messengers and letters she agreed to rule with me and begrudgingly accepted my proposal for a party to celebrate her return and status.

The actual coronation will not take place for another few weeks due to the time needed to gather all the court’s representatives, but this evening would be a full celebration nonetheless. She is home and that enough is cause to celebrate.

The party will also finally force Jude out of the shadows. I suspect she has moved around the castle quite a bit as I heard she met with her sisters and the Living Council, but she has made a careful effort to avoid me.

There have been several times where I have made it all the way to her door before deciding to leave and giving her the space she demands. For months now, I have had dreams of the moment we saw each other again; I have imagined her vulgar words and sweet touches. Tonight is the last night I can imagine because in a matter of hours I will see her again. For the evening, she will have no choice but to stand in the same room as me. I already announced her as my wife and Elfhame’s High Queen. After this evening, she can avoid me outside of official business, if she wishes. It would be devastating, but no more devastating than how it felt when she was gone.

I pace back and forth in my chambers thinking through all the details of the evening since I have nothing better to do. I dressed long ago in a suit twin to the dress I had sent for Jude. If I thought the last dress I designed for her was stunning, I am not sure I’ll be able to survive seeing her in tonight's creation. I gave the tailor a sketch of a silver gown with a fitted bodice and twin streams of fabric that flow from the shoulders. The hope was to create an illusion of the armor she seemed to favor. I doubt the tailor will disappoint and frankly, Jude could wear an old sack and still be devastatingly beautiful.

Before long I receive the signal to head to the ballroom. As I enter the room, I admire for the first time the servant’s efforts to fulfill my image for the evening. The decoration for a typical revel was nothing compared to the fanfare visible this evening. Long strings of lights and streamers hung from the ceiling and sweet and savory treats of all varieties are piled high on trays. The musicians and other entertainment for the evening are already in full swing keeping the guests happy and amused.

As is customary, the party has been going on for some time now, before the king and now queen enter. The center of the space is filled with revelers dancing and singing. At any other party, I would have gladly joined, but I cannot help the pooling sense of unease as I glance through the crowding looking for a particular face.

I do find the face I am looking for, but not the right person. Taryn is standing on the side of the dance floor chatting with some courtier. Locke is nowhere to be seen, which is for the best. If I notice him even causing Jude to frown this evening, I will have him locked in the dungeons for the night.

I occupy myself with some wine while I wait and use the opportunity to boast of Jude’s brilliance to anyone who decides they wish to speak with me. After about a dozen of these conversations, I finally catch a glimpse of her walking into the room with Vivianne at her side.

My Jude.

I admire her with total abandon. She is absolutely stunning. The movement of her steps causes the fabric to shimmer as it flows obscenely over her body. While I will imagine her in this dress for many nights to come, it is the crown that sits atop her head that captures my attention.

The crowd cheers at her arrival and many bow to her. While she keeps her emotions well concealed, I can see the smallest of smiles appear on her face. She enjoys the recognition. Seeing her now, if I could have given her this from the start I would have.

My heart-stopping queen.

I stay to the side where I am and watch her enjoyment from afar. She dances with her sisters from time to time and speaks to members of the gentry with ease. I know she has noted my presence, even if she has yet to look in my direction. When it is time to address the crowd, it is my turn to avoid her direction. I keep my speech to the folk short, enough to praise her and remind anyone who may be considering treason exactly who Jude Duarte is. At the final toast, I steel myself before addressing her directly.

“Welcome home, Jude.”

Our eyes meet for the briefest of moments, burning with a million unspoken words before she breaks away and turns to address the now-growing crowd around her.

It was the first time she acknowledged me since the morning I sent her away and suddenly the emotion behind that realization hits me all at once. I let my eyes linger on her turned back a moment longer, before downing my drink and disappearing into the gardens to wallow in my own self pity.

I told myself I would be happy if she just returned home, but now I realize how badly each moment I spend away from her aches. In school, I hated the way I longed for her. I had chalked it up to being a disgraceful obsession; one I would have been glad to be rid of whatever that meant for Jude. Now, I am equally obsessed with my mortal queen, but rather than having just my thoughts occupied with her, I feel a feral desperation to be near her, to set things right with her.

It is not uncommon for me to be followed, but when I hear soft steps behind me, the last person I expect to turn and see is Jude. Her brown eyes widened in surprise, as if she was not the one following me. We both stare at each other for a half a second too long, before Jude mumbles something and turns to leave. I take her by the arm before she can take a single step away. I won’t let her get away a second time.

“Ask me how hideous you look tonight,” the words tumble from my mouth before I can stop them.

She turns back to face me. I loosen my hold on her arm, but let my hand linger until she decides to brush it away.

“This again?” She asks, sounding more tired than annoyed. I didn’t realize how much I missed her voice.

Desperate to hear her again, I reply, “I can’t. You look like a knight from a story tonight.” A filthy story, perhaps.

Jude’s cheeks pinken as she shifts away from me. If I wasn’t afraid to lose her, I might have found her unease at my closeness cute.

“I’m glad to see the kingdom is still in one piece.” Jude acknowledges, changing the subject away from her. The distance between us feels infinitely greater than the foot of space physically separating us. I’d give anything to embrace her now.

“I had help,” I state simply. It is the truth. The Court of Shadows kept tabs on everyone, friends and enemies, and the Living Council for all the headaches they cause me, they did their job as well.

“Nicasia?” Jude didn’t try or simply failed to hide the accusation in the question.

I sigh heavily and take a seat on one of the garden’s benches. “Ahh that. Yes, it is about time we talked.” I motion for her to join me, to which she refuses.

“I don’t want to hear anything about the two of you. I understand we married out of political strategy, I won’t hold you to human standards of monogamy.” Jude echos my sigh, “After your letters, I thought… Well, I misunderstood the situation.”

My core twists at the way her voice trembled on the words. When did her pain stop being cruel amusement and instead became a twin knife that hurts us both?

“I meant every word in those letters” I murmured softly. How many times had I imagined this conversation before?

Anger burns across her face, “So, what? You got bored of waiting for me to return from the exile YOU-” she jams her pointer finger into my chest hard enough to bruise, “ordered! Maybe next time make sure your letters are actually delivered or perhaps don’t send me away in the first place.”

I stand, challenging her anger with my own. “You think I wouldn’t have waited? I went to bring you home. I saw you dancing with the mortal. Don’t pretend I was the first to stray.”

I expected more anger, denial perhaps, but not... confusion?

“What the hell are you talking about? I haven’t been with anyone else,” Jude yells exasperated.

“The blond male. I came to see you and…” I trail off when Jude laughs suddenly. “What could possibly be funny?”

She covers her face with her hands, shaking her head side to side, “Cardan, you saw me with a friend. Nothing ever happened between us, ever.”

Shame washes over me like a tidal wave. I had returned from that trip thinking Jude had made her decision to forget me and stay behind. I had walked straight into a revel and drank every drop of wine in sight. Nicasia found me a few hours later laying in the grass outside the castle and when she came near I did the one thing I thought would make me feel better.

Nicasia had been the first to notice me, my first real friend then lover. After Jude, I thought she could be the thing I needed again, but I was wrong. It didn’t take long for me to realize it would never be as it was before because my heart still belonged to Jude. If I had only spoken to Jude that night in the mortal world, none of this would have happened.

“I believed the reason for your continued absence was because you were still mad. I thought I could go to the mortal world and convince you to come home, but I saw you with the mortal man. I did not handle the thought of you with another well. Nicasia was there when I got back and… I let her into my bed, but it was you that I thought of every moment you were gone.”

Several emotions ripple across her face before she quickly schooled her face into the impenetrable mask she wears around others. She wears around me too. I continue before the fear of her rejection can stop me.

“There are no tricks within my words, so please hear me when I promise you, Jude, mortal High Queen of Elfhame, it is you I love. My heart is yours and forever will be. There will be no other’s, and if you choose to have me again, it will only be you.”

I raise my hand to cup her face and watch as her eyes flutter close. My name falls off her lips like a plea and I think it might be the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. I lower myself to meet her soft lips. Her hands soon find the front of my jacket and I don't fight when she tugs me closer to her.

Without breaking the kiss, I use my free hand to grip her lower back and pull her back into the garden seat with me. On my lap, Jude opens herself up to me and I greedily take in more of her, missing the taste of her. I can’t help but continue to caress her body with my fingertips, long after we break to catch our breath. I place a series of kisses along her neck, each more drawn out than the last before I speak the cruel fact still on my mind, “of all my terribleness, the worst thing I ever did was what I did to you.”

It hurts knowing I can speak those words aloud. I reach up to wipe a stray tear that has fallen from her eyes.

“Will you have me again, Jude?” My heart pounds in the wake of the question. I watch as she considers it. Truthfully, I wouldn't blame her if she refused me, but it would be torturous to have her so near and not mine.

Slowly, she gives a subtle nod and I don’t hide my sigh of relief. She stares at me for a second longer, before smiling, “I love you, Cardan."

I capture her lips again, finding her more addictive than the sweetest wine.

“My sweet nemesis, how glad I am you have returned.”

Tag List: @wafflesandschemingfaces​ 

If anyone else would like to join the list, let me know! 

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Gavin’s Wind and Waves Date

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 风浪之约, which has not been released in EN! 🍒

[ This date was released on 3 June 2021 ]

An early summer breeze causes the papers on the desk to flutter. After doing a stretch, I pick up my phone, realising that it’s already late at night, past 11pm.

Tapping open my messages out of habit, I see that the newest message is a reply from Gavin in the afternoon -

Gavin: Let me know when you’re done with work.

Staring at the chat, I release a long sigh.

Recent overtime work has left me slightly overwhelmed. Because of this, I had no choice but to reject several dates with Gavin.

Thinking about this, I type a response hastily.

MC: I’m getting ready to knock off. Did you have a busy day?

After pressing the “send” button, I stuff my phone into my pocket quickly, turn off the laptop, and carry my bag.

Before I leave, I turn off the single remaining light in the company.

My phone remains silent even after I step into the elevator. Looks like Gavin’s already asleep.

Half-leaning against the wall of the elevator, I massage my slightly sore shoulders.

Fortunately, the remaining work has entered the final phase smoothly. Once this is over, I’ll make up for all the missed dates.

With a “ding”, the elevator doors open slowly. When I lift my head, I see a familiar figure. He’s also the person I’ve been wanting to see most during this period of time...

MC: Gavin?!

I walk towards him in disbelief. He reaches out, pulling me into his arms.

A familiar scent encases me tightly. I subconsciously relax, leaning on him wilfully.

MC: Gavin, why did you come?

Gavin: I missed you.

These words float into my ears slowly, then descend heavily into my heart.

Faced with Gavin’s absolutely unconcealed longing, I laugh contentedly, hugging him tightly and forcefully.

Gavin: Do you still have to work overtime after this?

I lift my head from his chest region, shaking my head with a smile.

MC: There are still a few things to settle, but they aren't as urgent. If things go smoothly, I’ll be able to fulfil the dates I owe you either tomorrow or the day after. Let me properly “make up” for them.

Once I finish speaking, Gavin’s brows arch gently.

Gavin: How do you plan to make up for it?

MC: Ooh... I’ve been flaking on you several times. So when the time comes, I’ll satisfy you no matter what you want!

Suddenly, a soft chuckle is at my ear. 

Before I can react, Gavin has already interlaced our fingers tightly, bending his knees slightly as he lifts up the travelling bag on the ground.

Gavin: Let’s go then.

When I see the travelling bag that I didn't notice earlier, I’m both shocked and confused.

MC: Hang on. Where are we going?

He turns his head over, lifting his sculpted chin.

Gavin: Didn’t you say you’d satisfy me no matter what I want to do? In that case, the rest of the time will belong to me. 

MC: But I was referring to after the program is done...

Gavin: I don’t want to wait a moment more.

Gavin doesn’t wait for me to finish, tightening his grip on my hand and pulling me over. My body tilts along with the inertia, drawing me closer to him.

My silhouette fills that pair of amber eyes, turning all the more clear and bright.

In this moment, I forget about the fatigue from work, and my entire heart is filled only with the person before me.

-

Originally thinking Gavin was simply taking me on a stroll, I didn’t expect that we’d be sitting in a train which is about to set off.

Scanning my surroundings, it seems that it’s currently the off-season for travelling. Gavin and I are the only two in the soft sleeper compartment.

Seeing the luggage Gavin brought, something occurs to me. I stare at him, stumped for words.

Gavin: What’s wrong?

He seems to sense my gaze, turning his head and meeting my line of sight.

MC: Gavin, you planned this way beforehand! The train tickets and luggage were prepared really comprehensively!

Gavin: Traveling requires adequate preparation, doesn’t it?

Gavin seems to deliberately avoid my unspoken implication.

MC: But this surprise attack of yours makes me feel completely unprepared...

Gavin: Isn’t such a “surprise attack” good? You've done it a few times before. Now, it’s my turn.

Wind whistles outside the window, pulling the hidden thoughts in his words to my mind.

I subconsciously recall how I deceived Gavin into coming to the airport and heading to Los Angeles on his birthday.

MC: O-of course it’s good. I like it very much. But that’s not how you were supposed to use the spare key to my house...!

I lower my eyes, grumbling softly.

Gavin: How was I supposed to use it then?

His expression of “earnestly seeking knowledge” seems to be teasing at something gently, and the temperature of my cheeks rises instantly.

I pick up the travelling bag and place it on my lap, face flushed as I change the subject.

MC: ...let me take a look at what you prepared.

I unzip the bag and gently rummage through the objects inside, unable to bear messing up the luggage he had worked hard to pack.

After looking through it for a while, I realise that Gavin was especially conscientious in his preparation.

The clothes I often wear have been stacked into a pile, and the snacks I enjoy eating have been placed in a separate corner.

I can’t help but imagine Gavin shuttling back and forth alone at home -

Him being at a loss as he stands in front of the packed closet. Him being confused as he faces dozens of makeup bottles and skincare products.

His shuttling figure seems to morph into a sense of security filling my heart continuously. The corners of my mouth lift upwards uninhibitedly.

When I touch a hard, square-shaped object, I take it out in curiosity.

My notebook laptop is currently lying in my hand. I lift my head stiffly, blinking at Gavin slowly.

Even before I can speak, he explains.

Gavin: With it, you can handle unexpected situations that crop up at work.

I nod silently, flipping open the notebook laptop subconsciously.

MC: That’s fine. I’ll settle some work then. Do you want to rest for a while?

Right after saying this, Gavin takes the laptop away, placing it into the travelling bag.

Gavin: You’ve been working non-stop. It’s time to take a break.

MC: Don’t worry, I won’t take long~

While saying this, I reach for the laptop. In the end, he shields the travelling bag behind him.

Gavin: I didn’t bring the laptop just to let it replace me. It can only be used when faced with unexpected situations.

Gavin’s dead serious expression gives me the impulse to tease him.

MC: If you don’t give it to me, I’ll have to snatch it!

Just as I stand up, the train suddenly jolts, and the floor beneath my feet rocks sharply.

I instinctively lift my arms to maintain my balance. Unexpectedly, Gavin grabs my hands, and my body leans backwards from the inertia -

By the time I regain my senses, I lift my head from atop his chest, blinking in a dazed manner.

He stares at me, a teasing smile on his lips.

Gavin: How do you plan to snatch it?

MC: I... I’ll snatch it by force, of course.

Right after saying this, he imprisons me tightly with both arms, as though wanting to put an end to my idea of snatching it by force.

Gavin: What about now? How are you going to snatch it?

Not knowing what to do, I can only blush while struggling in a perfunctory manner.

MC: I...

Gavin: If you don’t plan to give up, I won’t let go.

MC: Fine, I promise. Unless it’s really necessary, I won’t work!

A soft laugh burrows into my ear. He releases his grip slightly, but keeps me in his arms gently.

In the next second, the train finally leaves the tunnel, and starlight from outside the window enters my vision.

MC: Gavin, there are so many stars outside!

Following my words, he looks out of the window.

The starlight and night scene outside the window seem to soften Gavin’s sculpted features. He suddenly chuckles.

Gavin: I actually wanted to take you to see the stars in the planetarium a while back. In the end... you had to work overtime. The weather was great last week, and it was very suitable for taking a stroll in the park. But there was an accident at the filming site, and you were called away at short notice. 

Softly, Gavin talks about the countless dates we missed because of work over the past half month.

MC: Gavin...

Feeling a little guilty, I have no idea what to say.

Gavin turns his head to look at me directly, his eyes brimming with a smile.

Gavin: And then, I suddenly understood. If I were to keep waiting without an end, I wouldn’t know how long I’d have to wait. So I should simply take you away at an appropriate time. Just like the many times before.

-

After disembarking from the train, we sit in the rental car Gavin arranged for in advance, and we begin our long car ride.

When the car makes a turn, what enters my vision is a large patch of blue.

The faraway waves roll onto the fair and clear beach in layers, reflecting sunlight and emitting dazzling rays of light.

Pleasantly surprised, I turn my head, meeting Gavin’s eyes.

MC: Why did you think of bringing me to the seaside?

Gavin: You’ve been staying in the office during this period of time. So I’m taking you to a more open place.

Gavin: But there are many places I want to take you to. This is only one of them.

His voice is akin to a wave, rushing into my heart and creating ripples of tingly sweetness.

-

Very soon, the car halts at the seaside. Gavin leaves some instructions with the driver, and the latter sends our luggage to the hotel first.

Gavin and I walk along the beach leisurely. When a sailboat leaning against the harbour appears before us, he finally stops. 

Gavin: We’re here.

MC: Are we going out to sea?

Gavin: Mm. I’m taking you on a “stroll” on the sea.

It seems he has already rented the boat in advance. After exchanging a few words with the person managing the sailboat, he supports me onto it.

The sailboat isn’t large in size, and I’m able to see it completely with a sweeping glance. The areas we can sit in are the two sides of the boat and a narrow deck.

The sailboat sways along with the waves, and I hold onto the railing as I sit down carefully.

Gavin: Sit tight.

With light-hearted steps, he walks to the end of the boat and starts the motor, both hands holding the steering wheel as the boat gradually leaves the harbour.

After that, he grips the rope tightly to raise the main sail, sunlight pouring onto his frame, outlining his edges.

When the main sail is raised up high, he shuts off the motor, and the boat is propelled forward with the help of the wind.

Seeing this series of practised movements, I exclaim in admiration.

MC: Gavin, if you were to participate in a sailing competition, would this be considered "cheating”? After all, you need to know the direction of the wind at all times to sail properly.

Gavin ponders on my question seriously for a second before giving me an answer.

Gavin: Yes. But even if I don’t use the ability of wind, I’m still more sensitive to wind than ordinary people.

He says such “enviable” words with ease while continuing to work on the rope in his hands.

All of a sudden, a gust of strong wind comes from the right. The left side of the boat tilts downwards fiercely, almost sticking to the surface of the water.

MC: Will the boat overturn?!

I grab onto the railing firmly, looking at Gavin with slight worry.

Gavin: Of course not.

Gavin continues operating the steering wheel, a fearless expression on his face.

Gavin: Although I can make the wind stop, that would reduce the fun of sailing in the first place. Trust me. I won’t let you fall off.

A proud smile appears on Gavin’s face. The corners of his shirt are blown up wildly by the wind as he stands steadily on the boat.

After that, he stretches out his hand towards me. Immediately understanding his intention, I grip his hand without any hesitance. 

He pulls me behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist. 

Gavin: Don’t let go. Hold tight.

Just as another fierce gale arrives, he tugs on the rope, causing the sail to change directions deftly.

Very quickly, our sailboat is akin to a drifting racing car, continuously changing directions in his hand, and accelerating in movement. 

We allow ourselves to get swept along with the wind and waves, continuing to move headwind.

Without realising it, my initially anxious emotions have turned more and more excited.

MC: Gavin, let’s go!

He doesn’t speak, but the boat beneath his feet speeds up, as though using his actions to respond to me.

Gradually, the whistling at my ears disappears, and the waves grow peaceful.

Small ocean sprays lap the boat gently, as though telling us that our “surfing” experience has come to a temporary end.

I hurriedly pull on Gavin as we sit on the deck, and I massage his palms gently.

MC: Tired?

Gavin: Nope. What about you?

MC: I’m doing okay, just that my legs are a little wobbly from being nervous.

While saying this, I lean on Gavin’s shoulder, relaxing completely.

All of a sudden, a force pushes me gently on the shoulder. My body slides down slowly, and I find myself lying on Gavin’s lap.

Startled, I look at Gavin above me. With a pad of his finger, he pushes away strands of hair from my face.

Gavin: Lie down and rest for a while. I’ll make the wind a little quieter.

-

When I open my eyes again, what I can see is the azure sky and Gavin, who is resting with his eyes closed.

I can’t bear to disrupt such a beautiful image, so I simply purse my lips into a smile in secret.

Suddenly, Gavin’s eyelashes quiver, and he opens his eyes to look at me.

Gavin: What are you smiling at?

I realise that he might have noticed my peeping since early on, but simply allowed me to observe without making a sound.

With this thought in mind, the temperature of my cheeks involuntarily grow hot.

MC: I... I was smiling because the sun is really warm, and my fatigue seems to be swept away completely!

The deck reflects a dazzling light from the sun. Struck with an idea, I shift away from Gavin’s lap, then pat the deck.

MC: You must be really tired from sitting for such a long time. Let’s lie down and bask in the sun together!

I tug on Gavin gently, getting him to lie down beside me.

Perhaps due to the narrowness of the deck, we’re pressed together tightly.

Gavin: Is it a little cramped?

I shake my head quickly, afraid that he’d sit up to make space.

MC: It isn’t cramped at all. It’s just nice!

Gavin might have guessed my intentions. He stirs slightly, lying down sideways and facing me.

Gavin: Lying down like this will be a little better.

I heave a secret sigh of relief. Mimicking Gavin’s actions, I face him while lying down too.

MC: Even though it’s no longer cramped like this, we can’t see the sky in this position.

Gavin chuckles, embracing me gently.

Gavin: I just want to look at you. Other things aren’t as important.

All of a sudden, a shadow hangs above our heads, and sunlight gradually vanishes.

Puzzled, I turn my head towards the sky, only to realise that a thick cloud has completely covered the sun.

MC: The wonderful big sun has been blocked.

Despite the complaints from my mouth, my smile doesn’t leave.

Being with Gavin like this makes nothing worth regretting no matter what it is.

Gavin: In that case, I’ll make it leave temporarily.

Gavin straightens up, and a gentle gust of wind brushes my face.

The sailboat sways, as though sensing this force in the air. The waves sweep up, lapping the sides of the boat gently.

Even that cloud in the sky seems to float forward slowly with Gavin’s wind.

Gradually, rays of fine sunlight pass through the remaining tail of the cloud.

Sunlight pours over Gavin, leaving a pale shadow, making his facial features even clearer.

He lifts his chin, letting the wind sweep his hair into a nice-looking mess.

When the cloud has completely let the sun go, Gavin shoots me a smile.

Gavin: We can continue basking in the sun now.

After saying this, he lays back down on the deck, pulling me into his arms.

He closes his eyes, and all that’s left is the soft sound of his breathing. I can’t help but lift my chin, sticking to his ear carefully.

MC: You’ve worked hard over the past two days to prepare so many things. Is there anything I can do for you?

He opens his amber eyes slowly, the corners of his lips turning upwards in indistinct arcs.

Gavin: You don’t have to do anything. Just lay with me for a while.

With this, he tightens his grip, caging me in his arms.

I don’t insist further, laying by Gavin’s side obediently.

Seeing Gavin before me, I suddenly feel that this moment is so beautiful that it doesn’t seem real.

Last night, I was working overtime in the office. Today, I’m lying atop a boundless stretch of ocean.

Most importantly, the person I’ve been missing most is within reach.

I hug him fondly, tightening my grip.

MC: Gavin, thank you for bringing me here. Even though I still have some relatively unimportant matters waiting for me to handle, I think I really needed a break. Working overtime without an end can make one’s mind turn increasingly stale. If you hadn’t pulled me out from the endless loop, I might have been working inefficiently for a very long time.

Gavin listens as I reveal my thoughts bit by bit. His expression seems to become even more relaxed.

Gavin: Got it. When such a situation happens again, I’ll drag you away like this.

A breeze lifts up my hair quietly, as though agreeing with Gavin.

Even though I can’t hide the smile on my lips, I deliberately pinch his palm.

MC: Even so, you have to tell me in advance next time!

A teasing glint flashes across Gavin’s eyes, and he closes them.

Gavin: We’ll talk about it again when the time comes. I don’t want you to sink into that condition again.

He speaks indolently, but a resolute tone is in his words.

MC: Got it. I’ll take note of my working hours, and will definitely not overexert myself!

Gavin doesn't respond, but the smile on his lips is a clear indication.

Suddenly, a strong wind charges over fiercely, causing the main sail to rustle.

MC: Gavin, the wind seems to be getting stronger again! Will anything happen if our boat remains still like this? 

Gavin closes his eyes without a care, holding me tightly.

Gavin: Nothing will happen. Let me hug you for a little longer. We’ll set off later.

His voice gradually dissipates along with the waves, leaving behind a breeze that leaves one reluctant to part with.

🚤 Call and Moments: here

🚤 Support the cafe by dropping by the tip jar!

[annoyingstupidmiracle]

L.A. Confidential Part 2-l.r.h

CONTAINS SMUT!

Word Count: 1734

I hope you guys enjoy Part 2!

You angled your camera in order to get a better shot of the boys as they absolutely killed their show for the night. They had a gig at some big theater in southern California, and it was sold out. Luke had begged you to come to the show, and you couldn’t ever say no to him. It had been nearly two weeks since the last late night rendezvous between you and Luke, and the tension was almost unbearable. 

Chloe had been up his ass lately, and you’re assuming it was because of the recent article posted about her and a up and coming rapper who was starting to make it big. His publicity was skyrocketing since he had his first number one hit, and hanging out with a new possible love interest was a new spike in attention. You were one of the first to know about it considering you worked in the media most of the time. You had first hand ties with publishers who would often use your pictures for their articles.

His girlfriend was backstage watching from their dressing room instead of out in the crowd as she should be. You cheered as they finished the song ‘Valentine,’ and Luke ended it with beautiful vocals. His sparkling blue eyes searched the front row and finally found you, relief filling his nerves. The lights went dim in the building, and you put it upon yourself to find your way to the backstage door. Once finding the door handle, you let yourself in and saw Chloe sitting on the couch texting on her phone. Probably talking to her new boyfriend. Instead of paying attention to her, you looked over at the guys and grinned. 

“You guys did awesome!”

“Did you get any good pictures of me? I need to set them up on my tinder.” Calum said while reaching out towards your camera. You tugged it away from him and giggled. 

“Fuck off, both you and your tinder.” That comment caused the other three to laugh before walking towards you. 

“You see the article?” Ashton mumbled in your ear before glancing at Luke. You nodded discreetly and narrowed your eyes towards the blonde still sitting on her phone. 

“Do you believe them?”

“Do you?” He questions back. Well that wasn’t very promising.

“So, how about that afterparty?” Calum buts in. Mikey shrugs his shoulder and looks to Luke.

“I’m down, are you down?” Luke shook his head yes, but not before he took his last glance at Chloe.

“Yeah, for sure.” 

At this, Chloe’s head perks up. “Who said anything about an afterparty? We had that party at my friend’s house tonight.”

You rolled your eyes, not able to bear the sound of her voice. “Chlo, this is my band. I’d pick the afterparty over hers any day.” Chloe sighed at his reply before getting up off the couch and stalked over to him. Her arms rested over his shoulders while staring into his eyes. 

“See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He says while she leans forward, her lips puckered to kiss his lips. Instead, Luke turns his head to the side causing her lips to peck his cheek. “Alright, you guys ready?” He asked, looking to you.

You nodded. “Of course.”

*

Bodies touched everywhere you looked, it was hot and sweaty in the club. You couldn’t find anybody that you knew anywhere. Your breath caught in your throat as you frantically searched through groups of people in hopes that you’d find one of the boys. Panic sets in once you feel a pair of arms wrap around your waist. Quickly turning around, you notice it’s a random guy. Backing away from him, your back hits a hard body. Their arms reach out to yours to turn you around, and relief automatically rushed through you. Luke stood there with a look that could kill, staring right at the man who touched you. The man raised his hands up in defense before walking away. Luke brought you under his arm and walked towards the exit.

“We’re leaving?” You asked. He stopped before he opened the door. “It’s only been forty-five minutes.”

Guiding you outside, there was a taxi that waited for you to crawl in. Bending down to your ear, he mumbled, “I need to get you alone.” And that was all it took to get you in the back of the taxi as it drove through the city towards his hotel on the outskirts of it all. His hand rested on your inner thigh, gently caressing his fingers along the available skin showing due to the short length of your dress. The city lights cascaded through the window, dimly lighting the features on his face. It almost looked like he wanted to cry, and Luke never cried. 

Naturally, your hand reached up to cup his cheek in your hand, turning his head to look at you. “What’s wrong?” He shook his head, waiting on the taxi to slow to a stop in front of his hotel. His hand reached out to grab yours and dragged you to the elevator inside the building. “Lu-”

“You knew about the articles? And the photos?” He asked as soon as you were alone in the elevator. You stared silently at the floor. “(Y/n).”

“Yes.” You said quietly. Without a warning, he paused the elevator from going any farther by pressing the red button. Leaning against the wall, he ran his hands through his hair and tugged at the ends. A bitter laugh falling from his lips. 

“I can’t fucking believe this,” he says, thoughts corralling his brain. “I can’t believe you.”

“Me?” You question with shock. “Why should I tell you anything if all you’re going to do is stay with her?!” Your voice became louder than it has before, surprising him. 

“(Y/n)-”

“No, don’t. I-I do everything for you! But management always comes first, you know, when are you gonna get rid of that piece of shit publicist you got yourself, huh? That’s who’s making your life a living-” Before you could finish, his hands grabbed the sides of your face and pressed his lips to yours. Your first reaction should’ve been to push him away, but you deepened the kiss anyways. He swiftly pushed you against the other side of the elevator, the cold wall sending shivers up your spine. 

“Luke..” You mumbled next to his cheek as his lips traveled down your neck, gently nipping at your skin. “W-We can’t-”

“I just need you right now.” He begged, his voice strangled from the emotions he was feeling earlier. Giving in, you reached down to undo his belt buckle and unbuttoned his suit pants. His hand went down and helped you by sliding his pants down just enough to reveal his boxers. Once he did that, your dress was then hiked up around your waist and panties were pushed to the side.

His hand reached behind your right thigh and tugged it up so that he could keep the crease of your knee in the crease of his arm. You stared between the two of you as he pulled his member out of his boxers and lined up with your entrance. After a few agonizing seconds, he finally entered you, pressing your body further against the wall. A whimper escaped your lips at the feel of him inside you, but a hand slapped over your mouth. 

“People can hear you outside the elevator, doll.” You nodded, attempting to stay quiet as he reached down to grab your other leg, hoisting you up against the wall. He slammed into you constantly, skin slapping against your own. It was hard to stay quiet when all you wanted to do was scream out with pleasure. “Trust me, once I get you in the hotel room, you can scream all you want.”

“Oh god, I-” You reached forward, pulling his face to yours in a heated kiss in order to muffle the sounds of pleasure emitting from you as you came around him. Luke chuckled against your lips, him coming shortly after. 

He gently placed your feet back on the ground, steadying your wobbly form. You yanked your dress back down your legs. Luke buckled his pants back up and smoothed out his shirt and looked at you. Noticing stray hairs sticking out, he placed them back behind your ears and admired how your lips slowly tilted up in a smile as he did so. Leaning over, he pressed the button again and waited for the door to open back up to go to the hotel room.

*

Your naked forms laid tangled in the sheets nearing three in the morning, both huffing from the acts of just moments ago. Not only did you do it in the elevator, but you went back to the room and did it not once, not twice, but three more times before calling it quits for the night. Your head rested on his bare chest as is heaved up and down, your finger tracing lines along his stomach. Your leg was draped over his as you laid there, attempting not to fall asleep.

A buzz from a phone laying on the bedside table broke you two from your haze. Luke reached over and grabbed the phone that was lit up, which happened to be his. A low groan escaped his lips and he scrolled through the few texts he received from no one other than Chloe herself. Apparently, he had sent her a message about the articles he saw earlier that night and she was trying to apologize for them. No excuses were made about why the media made these assumptions, but she was sorry for them. He held down the power button and completely shut down his device and tossed it back on the table. 

“I can’t keep doing this, Lu.” You whispered, almost inaudible. A frown was placed on your face as you said those words. Your feelings for the Aussie had grown dramatically, and the fact that you couldn’t do anything more about it was only hurting you.

He sighed, wrapping an arm around your figure and bringing you closer to his. “I know.”

“Doesn’t it hurt you? That she treats you like this?”

He nodded. “I’m waiting on my publicist to say something. His contract is over in a week, after that, I make my own decisions.”

You leaned up, matching the height of his face with yours. “Good.”

“Then I’ll be all yours.”

You smiled to yourself before kissing his lips gently. “All mine.”

[kurowrites]

Five Times Lan Zhan (Kind Of) Proposed to Wei Ying

Oh, so you thought they wouldn’t be a disaster until the very end? Well, you thought wrong!

Find the earlier posts here.

---

+1

By the time Wei Ying woke up the next morning, Lan Zhan had predictably been awake for some time and was ready to ‘reward’ Wei Ying for his help the previous night with a delicious breakfast. How Lan Zhan managed to get all this food ready without waking Wei Ying he had no idea, but he did appreciate the gesture, nonetheless.

As he said before, Lan Zhan and delicious food was the opposite of a hardship.

Wei Ying let himself be momentarily distracted by some tasty steamed buns, but it was superficially only. He knew that Mianmian had been right when she had told him to talk to Lan Zhan. Unfortunately.

“Lan Zhan,” he spoke up once he had finished his first steamed bun. “I think you need to be a little more careful. Do you remember what happened last night?”

Lan Zhan was quiet for a long time, and elected to stare down at the steamed bun in front of him rather than at Wei Ying.

“Did I cause trouble for Wei Ying?” he asked eventually, quietly.

So contrite! Wei Ying couldn’t handle it.

“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying sighed. “If this is you causing trouble, then I really don’t want to know my own performance rating.”

He took a bite of a second steamed bun and chewed, thoughtful.

“Not gonna lie, it was pretty funny to see you get drunk the first few times. But now, I’m getting kind of worried, actually. It’s not like you, is what I’m thinking. Especially after that whole Jin Zixun debacle.”

He looked up and found Lan Zhan gazing at him, his eyes unreadable.

“Come on, Lan Zhan,” he wheedled. “Give me something to work with. Is this a late teenage rebellion? Do you need counselling? A fire and brimstone lecture that alcohol is bad for you? Don’t laugh! Lan Zhan, I’m trying to be serious here!”

But Lan Zhan only looked faintly amused with Wei Ying’s suggestions and didn’t reply.

Wei Ying pouted. He was trying to be helpful! Why was Lan Zhan suddenly uncooperative?

“Lan Zhaaaan,” he whined, and that brought Lan Zhan’s attention back to him, the amusement disappearing from his face.

“I am fine, Wei Ying,” he said. “I will stop attending parties if that is what you want.”

“I didn’t say you can’t come to parties!” Wei Ying exclaimed. “I just think we should keep you from getting drunk.”

He paused for one moment, considering.

“I think I just don’t like it when you do things and I have no idea what’s going on in your brain,” he eventually confessed. “It’s cute, don’t get me wrong, but –”

He fell silent, not sure how to tell Lan Zhan about the times when Lan Zhan had snuggled up to Wei Ying. Or gave him presents. Or told him he was going to marry Wei Ying before having his way with him.

“Lan Zhan, do you like me?” he asked abruptly.

Lan Zhan looked a little confused at the sudden question, but he nodded his head and hummed in agreement.

“Oh.”

Wei Ying felt himself blush. Of course he’d known that Lan Zhan must like him a little bit, but it was very different to hear it confirmed by a Lan Zhan that was completely sober.

“I like you too, Lan Zhan, just so we’re clear,” he assured his friend. “More than Jiang Cheng, actually, but don’t tell him that. He’ll be sooo mad.”

He smiled, remembering the first time he had said the same thing to a drunk Lan Zhan.

“And you, Lan Zhan?” he teased. “Do you like me more than… rabbits?”

He didn’t ask if Lan Zhan liked him more than Lan Huan, because he wasn’t quite that hubristic.

Lan Zhan’s eyes strayed towards the little rabbit plush toy on his nightstand.

“Hn,” he eventually agreed.

“Ayooo,” Wei Ying exclaimed. “I’m above rabbits? What an honour!”

Lan Zhan nodded, opened his lips as if to say something, and then closed them again.

Wei Ying took notice of the little motion and perked up, his interest piqued.

“Lan Zhan? What is it? No taking it back! I’ve heard it with my own to ears.”

“Not taking it back,” Lan Zhan replied. “But –”

Quite uncharacteristically, he fell silent in the middle of his speech, and seemed to be searching for the right words.

Wei Ying was willing to wait him out, because Lan Zhan never said anything before he was ready to say it. But Lan Zhan didn’t speak up again. Instead, he stood in one abrupt motion, and walked over to the nightstand. He bypassed the rabbit and opened the top drawer of the nightstand. He took something out, and returned to Wei Ying’s side.

He held out a little box to Wei Ying.

“It is not meant as a commitment,” he said. “I do not wish to… trap you. But these have been my feelings for a long time.”

Wei Ying took the little box with shaky fingers. Of course he knew the shape of the box that Lan Zhan presented to him. It was a jewellery box. And jewellery meant…

He opened the little box, his heart nearly thundering out of his chest.

Inside was a beautiful ring, rather delicate, with the tiniest little ruby heart set into it.

Wei Ying gasped.

It was so small and delicate, it almost didn’t seem as if it was meant for him. And yet, it was somehow… perfect.

“Lan Zhan,” he asked with a shaky voice, “is that an engagement ring?”

“It is whatever Wei Ying wants it to be,” Lan Zhan replied, and to his credit, his voice sounded perfectly calm and steady.

But when Wei Ying peeled his eyes away from the ring box and looked up at Lan Zhan, he could clearly see how nervous Lan Zhan was. It showed all too plainly on his face.

Wei Ying had never seen him like this. He’d never seen Lan Zhan want something so openly.

Lan Zhan was a mess.

And that, more than anything else, did Wei Ying in.

His own emotions hadn’t quite caught up with him yet, but that didn’t matter. They would have ample time to catch up later. All that mattered was Lan Zhan, right now.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying cried out, abandoning the little box and throwing himself at Lan Zhan, nearly taking down their breakfast with him. He wrapped his arms around Lan Zhan’s neck and clung to him, not planning to let go anytime soon.

“You should be more careful,” he warned once he had remembered that he was capable of speech. “When you say things like that too often, you might end up with me stuck to you for good.”

“Hn,” Lan Zhan agreed, and unless Wei Ying was completely wrong, he sounded suspiciously satisfied with the idea.

Which, honestly, suited Wei Ying just fine. If Lan Zhan was willing to put up with him, Wei Ying was going to stick to him forever. Not even Lan Zhan’s uncle would be able to peel him off.

“Oh!” He suddenly remembered, righting himself and wriggling around, until he properly sat in Lan Zhan’s lap. “Put it on, put it on! You have to put it on me!”

He eagerly fished for the abandoned box and pushed it at Lan Zhan.

“It’s an engagement ring,” he pompously decided. “I’m going to marry you and we’ll be so happy that everybody will be jealous.”

Lan Zhan didn’t say anything, but when he put the ring on Wei Ying’s finger – of course it was a perfect fit – he did so with an air of distinct satisfaction.

---

Later, when Wei Ying was snuggled into Lan Zhan’s bed with Lan Zhan as his cushion, he studied the ring on his finger as Lan Zhan carded his fingers through Wei Ying’s hair.

He was liar, probably. Lan Zhan had been trying to tell him something important for a while now, and Wei Ying had been too afraid to listen. Because… why, exactly? He didn’t know.

He’d just desperately clung to ignorance. Probably because he hadn’t thought this possible.

He turned his face and smiled at Lan Zhan, and Lan Zhan returned it with a small, but equally happy smile.

“I really, really like you Lan Zhan, you know that?” Wei Ying asked. “Even without the ring.”

“Hn,” Lan Zhan replied. “But I like the ring.”

“Me too,” Wei Ying confessed, and raised his hand again, to look at the ring on his finger again. “I don’t have one for you, though.”

“When we marry,” Lan Zhan said. All matter of fact.

It struck Wei Ying, then.

Engagement.

They were engaged. Which meant they would get married. And then have many cute babies and they would grow old together and…

“Aaaaaah,” Wei Ying cried, burying his face into Lan Zhan’s chest because he wasn’t able to bear the feeling of happiness rising in his chest.

“Graduation first,” Lan Zhan added.

“No illicit elopement?” Wei Ying asked with a grin, only the tiniest bit serious. After all, getting to boast that Lan Zhan was going to marry him was half the fun of a big wedding ceremony.

“No,” Lan Zhan decided. “When I marry Wei Ying, I will do it right.”

And that was that.

So simple.

“Hn,” Wei Ying replied, and then he laughed before he kissed Lan Zhan’s nose, wrinkled in offence.

A big wedding ceremony would be a disaster, and it would be perfect.

For them.

---

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, Lan Zhan, but I think there should be absolutely no alcohol allowed at our wedding. Ouch, why did you bite me? I’m just looking out for you!”

[qianinterprises]

Bundled Joy {Part One}

Pairing: Kun x Reader

Genre: fluff, crack, minor angst, pregnancy au

Warnings: pregnant reader, yelling, teasing, overprotective Xiaojun, teasing YangYang, slight explicit language

Word Count: 2.9k

Synopsis: You have a secret that somehow, all of the boys discover before you have time to tell the father. Now, you just have to fight them to tell Kun first.

Author's Notes: I started writing this honestly because I was bored and needed something to do. I didn't expect to finish it, much less post it, so it's going to be pretty different from most of the things I have written in the past. With that said, I have also decided to make this a series, but, as this was just meant to be fun, I cannot guarantee that I will update regularly, but I will try. Also note that this is my first ever series so I hope it's ok! Please enjoy!

Part two coming soon

Tagging: @treasuretaeil

Movie night with WayV happened about once a week, usually on the weekends when the boys either had a day off or didn't have to get up so early. Most of the time, you were invited to movie nights because, in Hendery's words, "movie night just isn't complete without mom and dad together!" It, however, had been a while since you had enjoyed movie night with them, having been too busy with work. This weekend, however, you had decided to join them after not so subtle but ridiculously persistent badgering from both your boyfriend and the other members, particularly YangYang.

Kun had texted you earlier in the day and asked if you'd pick up dinner, something you were only slightly surprised at. Typically, Kun cooked and, if you were over, you often cooked together. However, with deadlines and schedules, you weren't surprised that he was a little too tired to cook a huge meal for six bottomless pits. So, after ordering food online and picking it up, you showed up at the door carrying 10 pizza boxes, four two-liter sodas dangling from your arms in plastic bags because you were sure they'd want something besides water.

As you were struggling to ring the doorbell, having no arms left to reach the door knob or fish your keys out of your pocket, the door flew open to reveal a grinning Hendery who looked more interested in the pizza's that your presence.

“Can I-” he didn’t finish his sentence, looking greedily at the boxes.

“Yes,” you said, almost exasperatedly, though you were glad to be free of the burning boxes.

He grinned gleefully and took the boxes from your arms, hurrying into the kitchen where Lucas and YangYang were already waiting, each holding their own plate.

With a small laugh at the antics of the boys you’d come to love, you stepped into the dorm, only to be greeted with arms wrapping around your waist and a small kiss placed upon your lips.

“Hey babe,” Kun said, smiling softly as his eyes washed over your face.

“Do you guys really have to do that in front of us,” Ten whined, making a disgusted face as he grabbed his own plate.

“At least we have the decency to go somewhere else for our extracurricular activities!” Kun retorted.

Ten was notorious for bringing guests back to the dorms and making poor Hendery snuggle with a reluctant Xiaojun in a small bed.

“Not every time,” Sicheng pointed out, his own face morphing into disgust.

You rolled your eyes. One time to Ten’s twenty, that seemed fair.

“It was one time! And we didn’t even do much!” you argued.

“It would have been different if he had been giving you some… special attention! But instead of seeing boobs, we saw the dick we see all the time!” Xiaojun complained.

“Why do you want to see my girlfriend's boobs?!”

“Better question, why is it so normal for them to see your dick?”

“Kun-gi likes to change in front of us!” YangYang yelled, sounding scandalized.

“We all do!”

“Oh my God! Can we just watch the movie and eat?!” Hendery begged.

With that, Kun handed you a plate of food and sat down on the couch, pulling you snuggly into his side as YangYang started the movie.

~

It was late when the movie finished and Kun insisted you stay the night, something you would have denied if you hadn’t been too exhausted to think.

It wasn’t unnatural for you to stay over, and it wasn’t that you didn’t want to, you quite liked sleeping with Kun. He liked to hold you while he slept, which was part of the problem. You knew you’d be needing to untangle yourself from him at some point early in the morning and, if you intended to keep your secret, you’d have to do so without waking him, which wasn’t an easy thing to do. However, you agreed anyway, letting him lead you to the bedroom he shared with Xiaojun and YangYang. He wrapped his arms around you and, just like that, you were both sound asleep.

And there you were at 5am struggling to remove yourself from Kun’s hold without waking him up as your stomach churned and half-digested pizza threatened to crawl up your throat.

After a struggle that took way too long for someone needing to rush to the bathroom, you finally, successfully, pulled yourself from the bed without waking up your boyfriend, however, the early morning struggles didn’t stop there.

Stumbling through the dark, your feel suddenly got tangled up in a pair of stray shoes (most likely YangYang’s) settled precariously on the carpet, causing you to stumble and nearly lose your balance, catching yourself on the bunk bed.

Cursing, you paused your movements to listen for any wakefulness, swallowing thickly to push down the creeping bile as YangYang simply rolled over and resumed his quiet snores. Surging with relief, you quickly, but quietly, rushed from the room, not noticing a sleepy Xiaojun sitting up, watching you disappear into the hallway.

You stumbled blindly down the dark hallway until finally, you reached the bathroom, dropping to your knees immediately and hurling into the toilet, holding your hair back until someone suddenly appeared behind you, taking your hair in their hands, allowing you to clutch the toilet as your body shook with the force of the retches.

You assumed it was Kun until Ten’s voice met your ears as a hand settled on your back, rubbing soothing circles.

“Let it all out,” he said softly.

You didn’t have time to question his presence as your body shook through a new wave of nausea. His soothing motions didn’t cease, even though you knew he was probably disgusted.

When you finally finished, you weakly reached up to flush down your sick before turning around. Ten helped you settle against the wall as you struggled to catch your bearings. However, when your eyes floated up from the floor, you were met with a tired, but concerned Ten standing near the sink and a sleepy Xiaojun peering in the doorway.

“What are you guys doing up?” you asked, voice hoarse from exertion.

“I was entertaining a guest when I heard someone barrelling down the hall,” Ten explained, turning his attention to the male sleepily leaning against the door.

“When you hit the bunk bed you woke me up,” he explained through a yawn.

“I’m sorry.”

He shook his head and turned his gaze on you, eyes filled with concern.

“Why didn’t you wake up Kun?” Ten asked.

You sighed. You’d have to come clean now, because if not, they’d badger you until you did and then Kun would find out before you were ready.

“I didn’t want him to know yet.”

“Know what?” Xiaojun asked.

One glance at Ten and you could see the gears turning in his head. You simply let your eyes rest on his face, waiting for the question he was working on generating, steeling yourself when he opened his mouth to speak.

“Are you pregnant?”

Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw Xiaojun’s face morph, eyes growing as wide as saucers, lips parting into an ‘O’ at the sudden, accurate question.

You simply nodded before speaking.

“But you’d better not tell him if you both value having dick’s!” you warned. “I already have something planned out and you two better not spill the beans before I have a chance to tell him!”

“We won’t! We won’t!” Ten promised, a giant grin spreading across his face.

“I’m going to be an uncle!” Xiaojun piped.

You rolled your eyes and shifted off the wall to get up when Xiaojun suddenly appeared at your side, half picking you up, eliciting a small yelp from your lips.

“What the hell are you doing?!” you hissed, voice reaching a volume that would likely, accidentally, wake someone else up.

“You have to be careful now! You can’t hurt the baby!” Xiaojun exclaimed as if it should have been obvious.

With a roll of your eyes, you let him continue, crossing your arms over your chest as Ten cackled.

“Looks like you’re going to be dealing with an overprotective Jun!”

You let out a huff but resigned yourself to the fact that this was probably going to be the new normal, at least until you told Kun.

Xiaojun carried you from the bathroom and placed your feet down on the soft carpet of his bedroom floor. He slowly escorted you past YangYang’s shoes to your side of Kun’s bed where he lifted the blankets and tucked you back in. Almost instantaneously, Kun’s arms wrapped around your form, hugging you to his chest.

~

It was the next morning when the amazing scent of breakfast wafted into the room, stirring you from sleep in the best way possible. You rolled over, feeling Kun’s side empty and threw the blankets off your body, the cool morning bringing goosebumps to your skin.

Slowly, you threw your legs off the side of the bed, letting out a yawn as you scanned the bunk beds across from you, finding both beds empty.

As you stood up, your stomach shifted and grumbled, although you weren’t sure if it could handle Kun’s delicious breakfast.

Still, you made your way from the bedroom, meeting a grinning Lucas outside the room. He was standing outside the door, almost as though he was waiting for you to step out. His grin was a little more than slightly creepy and, as soon as he saw you, he began rocking on the balls of his feet like a puppy getting ready to pounce on its owner, something that wasn’t unusual for Lucas to do.

“Lucas?” you asked cautiously, already bracing yourself for the weight of the gentle giant.

“I wanna be the favorite uncle!”

At his words, you let your arms fall by your sides, a groan rising from your throat.

“I’m going to kill them,” you mumbled. “Which one of the boneheads told you?!”

“Your squeal last night woke me up, and then I heard Ten mumbling how amazing it was walking past my room!”

So your screech had woken people up. Great.

“Who else knows?”

With Lucas knowing, it was only a matter of time before the whole world did. If there was one thing Lucas couldn’t do, it was keep a secret.

“Pretty much everyone except Kun. Xiaojun said you threatened our dick’s if anyone told him.... But with as many hints and YangYang keeps dropping, it’s only a matter of time before he figures it out.”

YangYang. You loved the boy. You really did. He was so precious when he was crawling in bed between you and Kun on the nights nightmares woke him up from sleep. Or when he was crying as his legs cramped painfully. The times when he really showed just how young he was.

However, despite your love for the boy you thought of as a little brother, he truly could be a thorn in your side.

You pushed past Lucas and speed-walked into the kitchen where YangYang was, as Lucas promised, dropping hints.

“I want baby carrots and swaddled pigs in blankets for dinner!” He was saying cheekily.

“That’s a lot! Maybe I can help with that!” you said enthusiastically before grabbing the younger's arms and all but yanking him from the room.

“What?” he asked, as if he had done nothing wrong.

“I swear Yang, if you rob me of the joy of telling him, he’s going to be a dad, I will personally remove your gonads with a rusted spoon!” you hissed,

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled, rolling his eyes. “Good luck finding a rusty spoon without searching Jeno’s bedroom.”

You shoved him lightly, glaring at him as he walked back into the kitchen, you hot on his trail.

“Good morning sleepy-head,” Kun greeted, seemingly noticing you for the first time.

He placed a soft kiss on your lips and wrapped an arm around your waist, a greeting you loved but would never get used to.

“That’s exactly the kind of thing that got you into this situation,” Hendery piped.

Kun turned around, arching an eyebrow at the male as you sent Hendery the harshest glare you could muster. He bit down on his lip, trying, and partially failing to hide a sinister smirk.

You were going to end up killing them all if you didn’t tell Kun soon, but you wanted him to find out your own way, not because six boys couldn’t keep a secret!

“Babe? Do you think we could go out today?” you asked.

“Ooooo!” all six boys cooed, nearly in unison.

“Ok, what’s going on?” Kun asked, placing his hands on his hips.

It killed you how perceptive he could be.

“You’ve all been acting funny all morning!”

His tone was sharp and commanding, the kind of tone that sent trembles down your spin and heat rushing to your core with need.

“Oh! He’s using his dad tone! He must be-”

“Yang! Shut up!” you snapped, voice raising as tears gathered in your eyes.

His eyes widened as a tear slipped past your eye, trailing down your cheek.

“Y/N… I’m sorry!”

“Why can’t you guys just accept that I want to tell him in my own way! Stop messing around before he figures it out! Because if he does, I will never forgive any of you!” your voice shook with emotion as you spoke, hands balled into fists at your sides.

You were expecting a snarky comeback about being a crybaby, but no one said anything for a good few seconds before Kun broke the silence by clearing his throat.

“Where did you want to go?” he asked.

“To our special place in the park… for a picnic…”

He smiled and pressed a soft kiss to your head.

“Let’s go back to your place to prepare then,” he said.

With that, you sent one more look at the boys before following Kun back to his room to adorn yourselves in anything other than pjs.

Part of you was reluctant to tell Kun yet, wanting to wait just a little longer, but with the boys’ inability to keep anything held within the confines of secrecy, you knew you couldn’t wait any longer if you wanted to be the one to tell him.

~

After preparing a nice picnic while Kun was playing with your cat, Kun took your hand and led you to the park where you both had said “I love you” for the first time.

As you reached the grassy area, you separated yourselves from the playground where kids were playing and screaming, finding a nice shady spot near the hiking trail where Kun spread the old purple and brown blanket you’d fished out of your linen closet. You placed the brown wicker basket in the center and sat down on the blanket, pulling your legs in and curling them. Kun sat down beside you, pulling out the plates as you grabbed the plate of premade sandwiches and cucumbers, your heart pounding in your ears.

“So… how do you feel about... sitting on a picnic blanket with… more than just us?”

It was vague, you knew, but you didn’t know how to just come out and tell the truth.

He gave you a puzzled look as he retrieved a sandwich from the plate.

“Like… the boys coming too?” he asked.

Dense. Kun, WayV’s leader. The group's father. So damn dense!

“I mean like… children…?” you mumbled, heart pounding harder.

“I’d love to have children with you one day!”

“What about soon? Like… now?” you asked.

He raised an eyebrow and took a bite of his sandwich, swallowing before replying.

“Are you telling me you want to start trying?”

You sighed, resigning yourself to the fact that Kun was just too dense to get it without you spelling it out for him.

“I’m pregnant,” you whispered finally, the words coming out softly as a weight lifted off your chest.

The truth will set you free.

Kun was silent for a long moment. So long, in fact, that tears of rejection were gathering in your eyes and you prepared yourself for the “it’s not mine” or “I can’t have a baby right now” speech.

However, as you were about to get up and apologize, a huge smile broke out across his face and the next thing you knew, you were being tackled back, back hitting the grass as Kun held himself on top of you, grinning like a madman.

You were too caught up in the moment to care how the moment might have looked to any onlookers. It was none of their business anyway.

“I’m going to be a daddy?” he asked.

Tears of his own were already falling down his cheeks.

You couldn’t bring yourself to speak, your throat choked up from the happiness of his reaction. So instead, you gave a simple nod, your own smile mirroring his.

He rolled over into the grass beside you and pulled you into his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“I’m going to be a daddy,” he whispered this time, almost as if to assure himself of the fact one more time.

As soon as the words left his lips, your ears were met with a surprisingly on key chorus of “awwww’s,” seeming to come from behind the bushes before a hyperactive Bella was jumping into Kun’s lap, licking his face in delight.

“Wait… why did everyone else find out before me?!”

[firecatvariant]

Demonic Blessing Pt. I (Series)

(I had been debating on whether or not to post this fic, or post my other series fic first, but since the part one of this fic is completed I figured I’d just post it. Part II will be coming soon! This fic may be lightly edited as time goes on.)

Satan x my F!OC (Kana) TW: Pregnancy, mentions of sickness.

Demonic Blessing Pt. I

"Wake up my love."

Kana felt a light touch on her shoulder and blinked open her eyes. "Hm? Satan? Is that you?" she asked sleepily.

"Of course, it's me silly. It's almost 9:00. You've been oversleeping a lot lately."

Kana stretched and tried to blink the last remnants of sleep from her eyes. "I'm not sure why I've been so tired lately."

"It could be my fault. I don't let you get a lot of rest most nights," Satan replied wickedly.

She swatted at him. "That's nothing I can't handle."

"Oh? Want to put that theory to the test?"

She laughed. "Satan!" 

As she began to get dressed, she realized she wasn't feeling so well. It's true she had been oversleeping a lot lately, and her body felt achy and tired. She noticed today that her breasts felt a little tenderer than usual, but that could very well be the fault of her demon boyfriend and his nightly antics. She smiled thinking about it. They made love so often it wasn't surprising she felt achy. Maybe she needed a night’s rest.

All the sudden, a wave of nausea overtook her. She stood still, trying to force it away. What's going on?

"What's the matter?" Satan noticed her standing completely frozen, the sick look still on her face.

"I-I'm not feeling so well." Suddenly, the nausea was too intense for her to bear, and she ran as fast as she could to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her and throwing up. She threw up for a few more moments, and she heard Satan call out to her from behind the door. "Kitten, are you OK?"

"I-I'm fine. I-I must have caught a s-stomach bug or something like that."

Outside the door Satan was growing increasingly concerned. Mammon and Levi walked by, and Satan stopped them.

"Hey. Could you keep an eye on Kana? She's not feeling so well."

"What? Kana's sick?" Levi asked.

"Was she eating Solomon's cooking?" Mammon joked.

"No!" called Kana from inside the bathroom, sounding annoyed.

Satan had an unusually serious look on his face. "Just look after her for a little bit, I'm going to run to the store and get some things that she may need."

"No problem," replied Levi and Mammon.

When Kana emerged from the bathroom, Mammon and Levi took her back to Satan's room. They waited outside while she changed back into her pajamas and laid back down on the bed. Mammon came in with a glass of water, and Levi with a trash can in case she felt the need to throw up again.

"Thanks guys, you didn't have to do that."

"Of course we do," Levi said.

"Satan didn't need to ask us to look after you. Once we realized you were sick, we'd have done it anyway." Mammon said.

Kana smiled. She knew they all still cared about her so much and were still a little salty about the fact she'd chosen Satan. But to their credit they didn't complain too much and accepted it more and more as time went on.

Once Levi and Mammon ensured that she was comfortable, they left the room, closing the door behind them. "Just holler if you need anything," Mammon said gently.

Kana settled down and fell back asleep.

She woke back up a few hours later and saw Satan reading a book in his favorite chair. He looked up when he noticed her moving. "Hey there. How are you feeling, my love?"

Kana smiled. "A little better, but still pretty nauseous. I really hope I don't get you sick, maybe you should keep your distance from me."

Satan's smiled disappeared, replaced by a very serious look. "I don't think you have a stomach bug."

"What? What are you talking about?"

Satan pulled out an item he bought from the store. "Look, I bought this at the store, and I’d like you to use it."

Kana looked down at the object in his hand. It was a pregnancy test.

Kana came out of the bathroom, her expression completely blank.

Satan stopped his pacing and gathered her in his arms. "Well? What did it say?"

"U-um" ... she looked up at Satan, shock and surprise registering on her face. She held up the test. It was positive. "We're going to have a baby."

Satan let out a happy yell and picked her up and swung her around.

"Woah, woah! Calm down!" Kana yelped.

"You're right, I'm sorry. I'm just so happy. A baby! We're going to have a baby together."

"Is this ok?" Kana asked. "I mean, is this really what you want?"

"It is. What about you?"

"I mean, I can't think of anything happier than having a family together. But we're not even married ..."

"That doesn't matter here in the Devildom. Or even the human realm for that matter."

"Oh, I know that!" Kana said, a little embarrassed.

"And we'll remedy that. I promise. We were already making plans to that end anyway, right? This just, sort of speeds up the process."

"Can I make a request? Can we have a small wedding? Just us, your brothers, maybe the other exchange students and Lord Diavolo and Barbatos? I don't think I can handle anything more. Or maybe even wait until after the baby is born? That way it can be a part of the wedding too?"

"Of course, my love. If that's what you truly want, then that is what I will give you. As long as I can marry you someday, I don't care how we do it."

Kana’s face grew serious. "We still have to tell everybody."

Satan and Kana asked everyone to meet them in the common room. Once everyone was assembled, they began.

"We have an announcement to make", Kana began slowly. She was nervous. This could go in a lot of different directions once the news was broken.

"Oh? Are you guys finally breaking up?" 

Satan glared at Belphie. 

"What?" he asked, defensively, as Beel poked him. 

"Are you getting married?" Asmo squealed.

"Are you moving out?" Lucifer asked.

Kana took a deep breath and took Satan's hand. She glanced over at him, and Satan nodded.

"We're having a baby", they said together.

Dead silence.

"WHAT!!??"

"A baby?"

Kana and Satan were both bright red. But suddenly, the air turned joyous as smiles broke out on the brothers faces.

"Congratulations!"

"We're going to be Uncles!" Levi said, awestruck.

"So you guys really were being naughty all those nights together."

"Shut it, Asmo." Satan snapped. "Don't be vulgar."

"Ew." Belphie said.

"Guys, guys," Kana pleaded. "Let's not get off subject."

"Are you feeling OK, Kana?" Lucifer asked gently.

"Yes Lucifer, I feel fine now."

"We will make sure you have every care possible."

"I'll make sure she has every care", Satan interjected with an annoyed look on his face.

Lucifer just smiled. "Well, we will all help in any way we can."

"Yeah of course we will." Beel said.

Later that night …

"That didn't go too badly," Kana said, as they got ready for bed.

"No, it definitely could have gone worse. At least they seem happy and congratulated us."

"See? Everything is going to be ok.” Kana slid under the covers and cuddled up to Satan. “You didn't need to get upset when Lucifer said he'd take care of me." 

"I'm going to be the one to take care of you and the baby. I'll read all the books, and make sure you have everything you need and do everything you need to do to stay healthy and strong."

"Don't go overboard." Kana warned.

Satan smiled. "Who me? Never." 

The news spread fast. Kana and Satan's D.D.D's were blowing up as the brothers continued to ask endless questions and proclaim their excitement, and their friends who didn't live in the House of Lamentation congratulated them and asked questions of their own. Solomon, Simeon and Luke were particularly excited for the baby.

Then, about a week later, Satan got a text from Lord Diavolo. It was a request to meet him in his office at his castle. Satan had no idea what he could possibly want but couldn't very well refuse the summon.

"Ah, Satan. Thank you for coming."

Satan walked into Lord Diavolo's office and closed the door behind him. Lucifer was already there. "You wanted to see me?"

"I did. I think we might need to have a talk."

"About what?"

"Your child, Kana, and possibilities of ... trouble ahead."

Satan felt himself tense up. "What do you mean?"

Lord Diavolo looked troubled. "This isn't unprecedented. There are a few half human, half demon children. But ... the mothers usually perish during childbirth."

Satan clenched his fists.

Lucifer chimed in. "But Kana is part angel, human, and has a pact with 7 demons. She might be strong enough to survive the ordeal."

"We just want you to be prepared Satan. She's going to need every possible care." Lord Diavolo said gently.

"I can do that! I won't lose her! Or my child."

With that, he stomped out of Lord Diavolo's office.

Lord Diavolo looked at Lucifer. "Do you think he'll be okay?"

Lucifer sighed. "He’ll be fine. I just hope Kana can make it through this alive."

Part II (coming soon)

Masterlist

[corysmiles]

Little streamer AU prompts!

-Thinking they were all humans, either Wil or Phil bought tickets for them all to go to an amusement park....but Tommy’s too short to ride. Where does it go from there? Does Wilbur feel bad and sob out apologies? Does Tommy say it’s fine and that they can go without him, only to get kidnapped/lost? Does Tommy say f*ck it and try to sneak on with Tubbo? Your choice :)

-The bois at the arcade during the meetup. They try to cheat the games by having Tommy roll skeeballs into the best slot, or go inside machines to fix the game in their favor

-While Tubbo has Lani, and Phil has probably had like a borrower coworker or something, this is Wil’s first time heavily interacting with someone so small, and constantly watches the others and stays up at night googling how to best handle a borrower. Some of the suggestions he gets from online are way too formal and Tommy is confused as heck at where he’s getting these ideas. Like Wil you don’t have to wash your hands before picking me up if we’re RUNNING LATE C’MON LETS GO

-(the angst prompt) Tommy was so excited to meet others his size and during the meet up he doesn’t feel included or something, and he ahas a mental breakdown. Maybe he hides in a small space so the others can’t find/reach him

-If you don’t have plans for techno yet, maybe he’s also a tiny and thought he was the only one of any of his online friends, but the group FaceTimes him and he sees Tommy is small too but doesn’t make a big deal out of it, just a mentions it in the conversation at some point. Tommy feels instantly better. “Technoblade’s a bigger bad ass than any of you talk freaks!” “Techno was already the coolest, but none of you have a chance now.”

-Tommy wrestles with everyone’s hands

If you can’t tell I love this idea so much lol

-🦎anon

omg I love your ideas so much thank you and I’m so so sorry this post is so long I was gonna split it up but then I was motivated and got really excited (also pls forgive me for any spelling errors this is long and I didnt want to go back and edit it) :]

Little streamer au drabbles

—————————————————————

When Phil and Kristen had originally been planning out all the things they could do at the meet up they didn’t take into account the possibility that any of their friends might be well...tiny. So when the day came for the group to go to the amusement park and they were stopped by security at the first ride Phil knew the day wasn’t going to end well.

“Sorry sir,” the man said to Wilbur who currently had Tommy in his front pocket, “Tinies can’t go on the rides here, it’s too much liability for the park.”

Wilbur just stared at the man in mild confusion, “What if I hold him though, there’s no way anything could happen.”

The man just shrugged, “I don’t know it’s the park’s rules not mine so you can either stay out here with him or pass on rides for today.”

Wilbur looked down at the small teen in his pocket and could tell he was getting upset by the confrontation. Tommy’s shoulders drooped and he kept his eyes down as if to not show the others his disappointment.

“Its alright big man, go on I can stay down here,” Tommy whispered and patted Wilbur’s chest reassuringly. The attempt at comfort just made Wilbur’s frown grow.

“Hey it’s alright Will I’ll stay down here with Tommy,” Tubbo said, “I’m not the biggest fan of heights anyways.”

Wilbur reluctantly agreed and handed over the tiny to the other teen who walked over to one of the benches to wait for the others.

When Wilbur and Phil got off the roller coaster they panicked when they couldn’t find the two teens until they found Tubbo riding on a carousel horse with Tommy hanging off the pole.

Safe to say Wilbur didn’t let Tubbo take Tommy the rest of the day. (Sorry i didnt do angst for this one)

(More under the cut)

—————————————————————

Tommy was so excited to go to the arcade with his friends. When they got there though and Tommy saw all the prizes he could win he started to form a plan.

Tubbo of course would be the one to help him out though since he was the only one that was willing to let Tommy cause any chaos.

It started with small things like having him help them cheat on skeeball or hit targets with his hands on shooting games until they started to look for more ways to cheat.

For the final plan, Tubbo watched as Tommy climbed through the slot of a crane machine and tried to push a large bear toy into the hole.

When he saw the bear he thought Wilbur would like it and while Tubbo was usually opposed to crane games since it’s just a “waste of fucking money” he wasn’t necessarily opposed to helping Tommy get into the machine.

Everything was going fine until a woman with a child came over to the machine to play for themselves; immediately Tommy ducked down beneath the plushies so they wouldn’t get caught and Tubbo began to panic when he lost sight of the tiny.

It was at that moment that the rest of the group came over to Tubbo and asked where Tommy was.

“Uhhh hes in the bathroom,” Tubbo said nervously.

Phil tilted his head at the boy, “Uhuh...where is he Tubbo?”

“Ummmm so about that big man we uh-“

However, Tubbo was interrupted by his phone dinging and his face went pale as he read the text from Tommy.

-Pls get me out of here big man I can’t get this shit off me anymore-

“Uhhhh...oh fuck,” Tubbo muttered, “Um I have not the best news for you.”

“And what’s that?” Wilbur asked.

“Ummm do you have any coins on you?”

Phil looked at Tubbo with confusion, “Yeah, why do you ask mate?”

Tubbo turned back to the crane where the mother and daughter had left and laughed nervously, “well....ummm so by bathroom I kinda meant uh the crane machine? Yeah, Tommy’s in there.”

The adults immediately freaked out at the situation because what the fuck were the kids thinking. And when Tubbo told Wilbur they were just trying to get the teddybear for him cause Tommy thought he’d like it, he felt even more dread.

After almost an hour of Wilbur and Phil putting in money into the claw machine they finally got enough toys out of the way to see the tiny.

With one more try Tommy was able to grab onto the claw and let himself fall out of the machine. Wilbur immediately scooped him up to scold him for being a dumbass but when he saw that Tommy’s face was red and swollen he decided instead to just slip Tommy into his pocket to rest.

With the extra cheated tickets though they were able to buy Tommy a tiny plastic nerf gun from the arcade before they left.—————————————————————

Wilbur was surprised at how quickly Phil and Tubbo were okay with Tommy’s size. While Tubbo apparently had a tiny sister and Phil had had tiny friends before, Wilbur couldn’t recall ever actually interacting with someone so small expect for in passing.

He really cared about Tommy as both a friend and as a brother and he was so afraid of messing up with the teen. He didn’t want to hurt or offend Tommy in any way so of course he went to the best place to figure out what to do: wikihow.

The articles were strange for sure but anything to make Tommy feel more comfortable with him would be worth it.

So the next day when Tommy was supposed to be eating breakfast at Wilbur’s house and Wilbur wouldn’t pick him up to put him on the table he thought the taller man was just being a dick.

Then when Tommy asked him if he would pick him up Wilbur walked away from him to go to the bathroom instead of helping him.

After a minute the brunette man walked back and reached a hand down to lay besides Tommy. Tommy stepped onto his palm and expected him to pull him up towards him but when he didn’t he started to get really annoyed.

“Hey you can move what the fucks up witb you right now you’re being all weird and shit man,” Tommy grumbled.

“Huh? Oh I just...I was looking up some stuff about uh tinies and I thought maybe it would make you more comfortable?” Wilbur whispered with embarrassment.

“What?” Tommy laughed, “Why the fuck would you do that you were fine before I would tell you if I wasn’t comfortable big man you don’t have to worry about that.”

Wilbur felt his heart swell at the comfort and slowly lifted Tommy up to the table for them to eat together. It was still strange having someone so small around but Wilbur would get used to it for Tommy.—————————————————————

Tommy usually didn’t have any problems with having bigger people around. All his friends at home and his family were all humans so he knew he was overreacting about none of his online friends being tinies. But when they went out to dinner together and Phil, Tubbo, and Wilbur were all talking together while Tommy sat next to Wilbur’s cup something broke inside him.

The reason he loved streaming so much was that he thought he finally had met other people like him, but he guessed it was his own fault for never really checking.

As the three laughed loudly Tommy felt himself becoming more and more overwhelmed by the chaos in the restaurant. He couldn’t cry now though his friends were having fun, it would be a dick move for him to ruin the meet up for them just because he expected them to be tinies.

Throughout the meal and on the way home Tommy was mostly silent, he sat in Wilbur’s pocket as they arrived at the man’s apartment. Wilbur waved goodbye to Phil and Tubbo as he took Tommy inside.

Wilbur sat Tommy down on the counter as he changed and Tommy finally felt a few tears fall from his eyes. He heard the sound of a door opening and quickly hid behind a tea box so Wilbur wouldn’t see him in this state.

He started to shake as the tears kept coming while he heard Wilbur searching around for him.

“Tommy?” Wilbur called out but Tommy couldn’t even get a solid breath much less respond.

After a few moments Tommy felt the tea box he was hiding near shift as a large hand wrapped him up gently.

“Oh jeez Tommy are you okay?” Wilbur asked as he lifted Tommy to his eyes.

Tommy wiped his eyes and slowly nodded to Wilbur who looked heartbroken by the tears.

Wilbur sighed, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Tommy shook his head no and Wilbur gave the boy a sad smile.

“I’m sorry Tommy, we’ll talk about this later okay,” he whispered as he tucked Tommy up against his chest. He held the tiny until he heard soft snores replace the sobs and promised himself that whatever made him this sad would never happen again.—————————————————————

Techno had been tweeting at the rest of the sleepy boys since the start of the meetup. The American wished he had gotten to meet up with his friends but sadly because of covid there was no way to safely visit the UK, so instead they settled for FaceTiming one night so that Techno wouldn’t feel as left out.

Techno grabbed his specially made phone and anxiously waited for the call. When Phil’s contact showed up Techno opened it immediately and was greeted by the familiar blonde human’s face along with Tubbo in the corner.

“Hey Techno!” Phil smiled as Tubbo waved aggressively.

Techno smiled and waved back, “Hullo.”

After a little bit of shuffling Wilbur appeared on the screen with something cupped in his hands.

“What you got there Will?” Techno asked with an amused expression.

“It’s me bitch! Ayyy Techno,” a loud and annoying but familiar voice yelled form the taller man’s hands.

“Oh hey Tommy,” Techno laughed, but besides that there was almost no reaction to Tommy’s height.

“That’s it? No big ‘wow you’re small’ or like ‘poggers’ or anything?” Tommy asked.

Techno hummed in response, “Nah why would I care your nothing special cause you’re small.”

Tommy huffed and crossed his arms at Techno, “I’m not special bitch? I’m the only tiny here I’m amazing!”

A small chuckle left Techno as he realized the situation.

“And why are you so sure you’re the only one huh?”

Tommy blinked wide eyed at Techno before a wide grin spread across his face.

“Wait you’re small too?” Phil asked.

Techno nodded to his friends who all had different ranges of shock on their faces.

“Oh fuck yeah!” Tommy screeched causing everyone to laugh.

“See I knew this is why you were so much cooler than these bitches were alpha men you see,” Tommy laughed.

“Yeah,” Techno smiled, “I’m sure that’s why.”

The rest of the call was calmer however Tommy continued to insist that Techno and him were much cooler than the rest of the them. —————————————————————

The first time Tommy had been grabbed to try to get him to calm down or stay still it had been by Phil when he was trying to cook breakfast and Tommy kept getting too close to the stove top. Phil placed his hand over Tommy to keep him still when he felt the kid latch onto his pointer finger and try to pull it away.

“Ay what are you doing mate?” Phil laughed as the tiny continued to struggle with his finger.

“I’m wrestling you big man can’t you tell, and I’m fucking winning!” Tommy grinned.

Phil chuckled at the kid before flipping him over with his thumb.

“Yup you’re winning sure,” he said slyly.

When Wilbur and Tubbo walked in to Phil trying to pin down Tommy with his fingers while the small boy laughed and pushed them away as much as he could they had no fucking clue what was going on.

[goldenspecter]

Cosmo’s TMNT Masterpost

(Rise, 2003, 2012, and others)

Here’s where you can find pretty much everything I’ve ever made for the TMNT fandom! Fanfics here[haven’t gotten the courage to post fanart here yet], hope you guys enjoy my work. Reblogs are appreciated!

Fanfics

1. Finding my way home(and moving forward)

Out of sheer curiosity, Leonardo and Donatello looked up, and there it was.

A portal.

Had the Universe really taken pity on them? Had it really heard his desperate prayers for one more chance?

It was not like the ones they had seen before, it was an irregular circle made up of several shades of blue, completely different from the perfect and symmetrical pink triangles of the Kraang.

Leonardo and Donatello looked into each other's eyes for a few moments, "Should we go in?" Donatello asked, almost shouting, drawing the attention of the others, who quickly turned to the portal and to see each other, then the two brothers in question.

"It's our best bet, and our only chance," replied Leonardo.

Or rather, with the 2012 kids' home gone, they end up in the Rise verse after a strange portal shows up. Therapy is needed, and start the slow process of healing from their trauma.

(Rise/2012, Work in Progress, written with @keeryd​ )

2. Strawberry Cookies:

"Mikey here was just about to tell me what we could do to cheer Raph up while he's sick," Donnie says. "Mikey continue?"

Now that Mikey had both of his older brothers attention, he grins. "I was thinking we make strawberry cookies!" He does his jazz hands as he says this and is met with looks of something that he can only put as disapproval. "What?"

"You do know that everytime that we have tried to make it-" Donnie starts.

"We mess it up and Raph has to come in and save our butts from burning the cookies?" Leo finishes, "What would be different this time?"

Mikey huffs, "We are doing this so we can cheer him up and to prove that we can do something on our own!" he says, "That's what got Raph sick in the first place!"

Or rather, Raph gets sick after helping his brothers recover from the poisoned pizza puffs. Mikey, Donnie, and Leo take a shot at baking cookies for Raph while trying not to burn their kitchen down.

(One shot, complete)

 3. Chicken Fried Rice:

“I only poured in half a pot of rice,” Donnie complained.

Mikey stared at him, really stared at him before he spoke. “You do realize that rice expands when cooked right?” he said, “You do realize that?”

Donnie was silent, looking away from Mikey.

“Donnie!”

Donnie makes chicken fried rice. Mikey watches over. Shenanigans and brotherly fluff ensue.

one shot in which Donnie is in the kitchen, cooking rice and Mikey, Mikey is positive he should have gotten Donnies braincell. 

(One shot, complete)

 4. Tea Time with Hortense and Patty: 

"Sooo," Raph starts. She's always been weird with awkward silences. "Are these grandma kinning hours?"

"Grandma hours!" Mikey exclaims excitedly. "Grandma time!!!"

"Ah, if it isn't our favorite girl and her little brother!" Hortense tilts her head over in their direction slightly. "Are you going to join us? We were just about done arguing," she says.

---

Today is Tea Time. Two old ladies have a tea party, one of them forgets to bring the food, and they are joined by Mikey and Raph. A good time is still had.

(One Shot, Complete)

5. One of those Days

When Donnie woke up this morning, he woke up with the familiar thrum of anger and irritation running through his body with more intensity than normal. Rubbing the crust out of the corners of his sleep-addled eyes, he jerkily grabbed his phone and turned off the alarm. It's one of Those Days, Donnie noted. Those Days where Donnie isn't capable of handling Mikey's over-enthusiastic optimism or Leon's chaotic trickster nature. His safest bet is to hang out with Raph, his calm and mellow demeanor always helped calm down before Donnie went on a rage fest and say anything he couldn't take back.

Or, Donnie and Raph help each other out, balance each other, and make things a little less difficult.

(One Shot, Complete) 

 6. Gift Hunting: 

“It’s Leo. Tiny Leo,” the voice answers. “I need your help with something.”

“What is it?”

“I can’t say until you say yes first,” Leo says. “It’s really important though.”

Angelo is silent, weighing his options. He could say no, he really could-

“Please, Angelo, you’re the only one who can really help me with this,” Leo pleads.

Rather, Angelo and Leonardo go out in the streets of New York to help the blue banded turtle find gifts for his brothers' sixteenth mutation day. Bonding and fluff ensues.

(One Shot, Complete)

 7. Aftermath:

“Raphie bear?” Mikey called out, gently tapping Raph, with relief washing him when Raph turned his head to face him. “What’s the matter teddy bear?”

“Th-thi-this doesn’t feel real.” Raph stuttered out, his voice cracking as a sob broke through. “I’m not really here. Neither are you and everyone else. I’m still alone with Draxum and his minions. No one’s coming to save me because I was stupid enough to get captured and no one wants such a worthless turtle like me.”

In which Raph was kidnapped and tortured by Baron Draxum and his family has to deal with the aftermath of it.

(One Shot, Complete)

 8. To Be the Eldest

Donnie, the second youngest in his family, wishes he was the eldest for once. Then one night, Donnie gets his wish granted and now he was three small turtles in his care.

Donnie adjusts to being the eldest, comes to some realizations, and makes a promise to his (now) younger brothers.

(Work In Progress)

 9. Wanted: Snaggletooth 

Dr. Noel bent down on his knees in front of Raph, a manic smile that showed too many teeth coming about on his face speaking of pain and suffering that has yet to come. He stretched out his hand towards Raph’s face, placing a thumb under his mouth, pressing into his snaggletooth. “Beautiful. Just as I expected,” he crooned, pulling out a syringe and injecting it into Raph’s neck, pushing the contents of the syringe into his system.

Raph’s eyes fluttered as he started losing consciousness, watching through hooded eyes as Dr. Noel's smile grew even wider, with his last thought right as darkness consumed him being that he hoped his family would find him before it was too late.

Post S2 Finale, Dr. Noel remembers Raphael, his snaggletooth, and manages to find and capture the red masked turtle. It doesn't end well for Raphael.

(Work In Progress)

 10. Dimensional Differences:

They bow. Not like one of those pretentious bows like she would do at Yokai parties and not like the ones she would do with her brothers when they hosted tea parties. They bowed deeply, heads stopping at her stomach, one hand closing around their fists. This spoke of respect and honor.

And that unnerved her a little bit. Why are they bowing so deeply?

“Thank you,” they said in unison. It’s unnerving to April and she felt the uneasiness coming from her brothers too.

“Why are you thanking me?” She said finally, voice sounding foreign to her.

“You saved my life?” Baby Leo said slowly, voice tinged with confusion. “That was an honorable thing to do?”

April blinked, “It shouldn’t be considered honorable for doing what any big sister would do,” she said. “That’s not honor, that’s just being a good older sibling.”

In which April, Sunita, Casey, and the turtles end up in the 2012 verse after a mishap with Leo's ōdachi and stay with the 2012 turtles until they can go home. They find out a lot of things that don't quite jive with them. Some things are the same, some things are different and they're not quite sure how to handle those differences.

(Rise/2012, Work In Progress)

 11. Mind Meld Part Deux:

“Oh thank Galileo that you all are back to normal!”

“What do you mean we’re back to normal?” Raph questioned, pulling back from the hug. Mikey and Leo also pulled back to stare at Donnie. “We’ve-we’ve always been like this?”

Donnie went quiet. He shouldn’t have said that.

“Donnie, what did you do?”

The brothers found out about Donnie’s Mental Intelligence Reprogrammulator. Arguments are had, words are said, words that tear a rift between him and his family, and it’s up to Donnie to earn his brothers’ forgiveness. The only thing is, will he get it?

(Work In Progress)

 12. I'm a little kid and so are you(don't you go and grow up before I do):

The 2003 turtles somehow, someway ended up in the Rise verse, with Rise Splinter and his turtle tots, and stay with them while the boys try to figure out their way home. 2003 Raphael got attached to his tiny counterpart the moment he laid eyes on the tot. (Raph centric)

(Rise/2003, Work In Progress)

 13. Dimensional Self-Isolation

Post S2 Finale, Raph finds himself trapped in the 2012 universe and has a difficult time coping with all of the differences that this world has in store for him. From new villains, unfamiliar familiar faces, and the way the 2012 boys and Splinter treat each other and him, Raph has a heavy plate on his hands during his long term stay.

(Rise/2012, Work In Progress)

14. A Collection of Turtle Thoughts

A collection of drabbles and ficlets about Turtles I've been writing since October 2020. Ranges from humor to hurt/comfort, I have it all.

Requests are open. SFW only though.

(All Iterations, Work in Progress)

If y’all reblog, read, and share my work, I’d really appreciate that! Anything and everything is appreciated, money or not! Thanks folks 🐢💕

[downondilaudid]

Taboo Nightmare

Reader has an amazing one night stand with a stranger from a bar, only to regret her decision days later when she walks into class and realizes he’s her new professor. 

LOOK AT ME, FINALLY posting. I am finally motivated.

Requested: No

Prompts: None

Word Count: 6.1K

Warnings: BASICALLY JUST SMUT, Penetrative Sex, Fingering, Degradation, Light Humiliation, Light Impact Play.

“Do you think the universe fights for souls to be together? Some things are too strange and strong to be coincidences.”

― Emery Allen 

Your body felt warm with the alcohol coursing through your system. The bright club lights shimmered on your black sequin bodycon dress. The euphoria you were experiencing almost felt superficial, it was addicting. 

Sweaty bodies mangled on the dance floor, you being one of them, grinding your hips against one of your close friends. To say you had dragged her to the club would be an understatement, she had practically kicked and screamed the whole way here. But now here you were, both relaxed and having the time of your lives. 

From across the club, your eyes met with a man’s, his figure tall and dressed in a fitted blazer. He definitely didn’t look like he should be at a club. His features were almost unrecognizable in the low light, but his gaze was strong, strong enough to force you to look away. You turned to your friend, “I’m going to get another drink.” She nodded in understanding.

At first, you actually were headed to get a drink, standing near the bar, waiting to flag down the bartender, who seemed to be frantically running around to collect orders and mix drinks. The club was definitely understaffed tonight. 

A presence could be felt beside you, and a flicker of hope rooted in the pit of your stomach, maybe you wouldn’t be going home alone tonight. You turned your head slightly, peering over at the man, and apparently, he had the same idea. You cleared your throat, wishing you could’ve guzzled more alcohol before the encounter. Too late now, “This doesn’t look like your scene” you pointed out, your voice raised to overpower the music. 

The light hit his face, and all the breath in your body vanished, everything about him was perfect. You tried to memorize the way he looked before the light left his face. “It’s not” he responded, his voice was smooth yet punctuated. Just by the way he held himself you could tell he was an intelligent individual. 

You couldn’t help the girlish giggle his words drew out of you, “then what are you doing here? If you don’t mind me asking…”

“I’m here with a friend.” He answered, before saying another sentence. Unfortunately for him, it was drowned out by the music, fortunately for you, it gave you the perfect opportunity to get him alone. 

Your friend was long forgotten as soon as the words left your mouth, “It’s really hard to hear in here, do you want to step outside?” You threw your thumb over your shoulder, pointing to the door in case he couldn’t hear you. 

He retreated a bit, almost surprised at your bold question. For a moment you thought you had made a mistake, only for his head to nod as he brushed past you, making his way to the exit. Quickly you followed after him, the sudden change in his mood making your head spin. Yet, you were still determined to regain the higher ground, you were the predator, he was the prey, even if he didn’t know it.

The cool night air brought you back to earth, your feet halting just in time to keep yourself from running right into the man’s back. At that point, you realized you still didn’t know his name, and here you were, outside, practically alone with him, despite the few wandering pedestrians.

He turned back around to face you, his face visible now, and dear god was it a sight. His eyes were a deep hazel, and you were sure every woman on the planet was envious of his perfectly plump pink lips. He was definitely older than you, probably by quite a few years, but that never bothered you “Spencer.”

Confusion dawned your face, your eyes widening with realization, that was his name. “Y/N” you introduced, right now the two of you were neutral, but you craved the higher ground. You wanted your name to tumble from his lips, and his large hands to wrap in your hair. His eyes scanned your body slowly, lingering on your exposed legs.

You raised your fingers, snapping to get his attention, “my eyes are up here” you teased. Spencer’s head snapped up to meet your eyes, a flustered look on his face. The sound of your laughter filled the cool night air, “it’s okay, I don't mind you staring at me.” You took a step closer to him, watching as his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat. “I’ve been staring at you all night.” He didn’t retreat from you, and you took it as a sign to let your hands run lightly up his chest. A burning desire ignited in your stomach as he flinched at your touch.

“A-are you sure about this? You’re a lot younger than me.” He stumbled over his words, his body subconsciously leaning into your touch.

“I like my men older.” Your hands drifted south, fingertips dipping into the hem of his slacks. Spencer’s hands shot out, wrapping around your wrists, yanking them away from his body. With a quick tug, he had you pulled flush against him, his warm breath fanning over your ear.

With every slightly ragged breath he took, his chest rubbed against yours. Your eyes fluttered shut, this was the exact reason you always went for older men. Guys your age were so boring, and inexperienced. But, this man would take his time with you, he would let his primal urges take over, he would absolutely break you. And that’s exactly what you wanted, and you knew every card to play to get what you wanted.

“You think you’re so cute? Acting like you’re the one in charge? I’m not even sure you could handle me.” Every perfectly punctuated syllable he spoke sent shockwaves to your core.

An inhale of the cold night air stuck in your throat, a sharp contrast to the warm body pressed up against you. “Funny” you began, yanking your wrists free from his grip, “I think you’re the one that can’t handle me.” It was exhilarating to see Spencer’s eyes darken with desire, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly. His hands found a vice grip on your arms, pulling you from your dazed state. Whether it was the alcohol or lust that was clouding your mind, you didn’t know.

“I’m giving you one last chance to turn around, and pretend like this never happened.” If you weren’t so ready for this man to fuck you, you would say his statement was almost thoughtful. But, that was not you, some strange fate had brought the two of you together, and who would you be to pass up an opportunity like that?

There was no stopping the smile that wormed its way onto your face. You steadied yourself by latching your hands onto his forearms, now happy that you had worn heels. Your eyes locked on his, greedily enjoying the sight of his perfectly sculpted face as you spoke “not a chance in hell.” Just like that you were being roughly pulled to the parking lot of the club, and into the car of a stranger. You were very much aware that this man could be a serial killer for all you know, but who doesn’t make stupid decisions in college? The answer is girls without daddy issues.

The car ride was short, almost as if you had teleported to your destination. Which you assumed was Spencer’s apartment. His large hand had remained on your exposed thigh throughout the whole ride, his thumb rubbing teasing circles.

The second Spencer flicked on the light, and you closed the dark mahogany door, he was on you like a feral animal. His hands danced viciously up and down the curves of your body, his mouth moving in sync with yours. Your hands met his shoulder, fervently working to tear off his blazer. With every passing second, the heat coursing through your body became too much to bear. You just wanted to feel his smooth, warm skin against yours.

Air-filled your lungs as soon as you pulled away, the both of you panting for breath. His hands retreated from your body, beginning to unbutton his dress shirt. Taking the initiative, you reached for the zipper on the side of the dress, pulling it down slowly.

Spencer’s dark eyes scanned you like a hawk, seemingly memorizing your every move. The shimmering dress slipped from your shoulders, gliding over your hips with, surprisingly, little resistance. You could feel your nipples harden as the cool air kissed your skin, as the dress hadn’t required you to wear a bra. The fabric pooled at your feet, discarded as you stepped out of the circle of fabric.

A low grumble emitted from Spencer’s throat, he was clearly enjoying the show you were putting on for him. “See something you like?” You questioned, your voice seductively sweet.

“Definitely” he replied, his voice low and trickled with lust.

The two of you shared the same idea as you simultaneously took a step forward, closing the space. His mouth met yours in a frenzied kiss, the proximity causing your breasts to rub softly against his chest. Spencer trailed sloppy kisses down your neck, sucking softly here and there. A content sigh left your mouth, and your hands trailed up to tug on the hair at the nape of his neck.

Each kiss placed to your neck hit you straight in your core. It was times like these where you felt lucky to have daddy issues.

Spencer pulled back, his hands leaving your body to work on unbuckling his belt. You looked up, your eyes meeting his as he finished unbuckling the belt.

A smirk tugged at the corners of your lips, so far, Spencer’s actions hadn’t matched his words. Nothing he had done was rough or teasing. Luckily, you knew exactly how to push him. “You know, you’re all bark and no bite.” You pulled the belt from his pants, letting it clatter to the floor.

His arms crossed defensively over his chest, perfectly accentuating his biceps. “Really, you think so?” His head tilted slightly, eyes narrowed as if mocking you.

Here we go. “Mhm,” you hummed. You spun on your heel, leaning down to pick up your discarded dress. “If you’re not going to fuck me like you said you would, I’m going to leave. You’re just wasting my time.”

You rose back up just in time to see Spencer rush forward, his hands meeting your shoulders. With a shove your back hit the wall, a huff escaping your lips from the impact. Before you could blink his large hand wrapped around your neck, squeezing lightly on the sides. His grip allowed him to angle your head up, forcing you to make eye contact with him.

His hair fell in his face, just above his eyebrows. Even with the yellow lighting of his apartment, he looked gorgeous. “You want to know what I think?” He paused, his other hand leaving your shoulder to run his thumb over your bottom lip. “I think…” he paused again, shoving his thumb into your mouth.

Now we’re talking, this is exactly what you had wanted. Your lips wrapped around his thumb, your tongue swirling around it. “I think you’re a young naive girl, with unresolved daddy issues, who’s desperate for attention from any male she can pull.”

His words should’ve made you run for the hills. You should’ve grabbed your dress and left. But he was right, his words didn’t hurt, in fact, they had the opposite effect. Arousal flooded your core as you rubbed your thighs together to relieve some tension.

“Enlighten me, am I right?” He pulled his thumb from your mouth, wiping the excess spit on your chin. You nodded, you felt like you were addicted to his every move, every intake of breath. His hand around your neck tightened, shocking you back to reality. “Am I right?” He growled, his voice slightly more punctuated than usual.

“Yes, yes, you’re right.” your voice cracked as his hand that was in your mouth began a slow trail down your stomach, running along the hem of your panties. Spencer leaned forward, his mouth resting next to your ear. “How desperate are you?” He whispered, drawing a light whine from your lips.

Your hand wrapped tightly around his wrist, trying to pull his hand to your core. “Please,” his hand dipped into the waistband of your underwear, fingertips trailing lightly over your folds.

The hand around your neck loosened its grip, allowing more air to flow into your lungs. Still, you felt suffocated, the pure lust clouding your mind and body. “Not so confident now, hm?”

Usually, this is the time where you would push back and take control, and show them you’re more than a pretty face. But that's not what Spencer was looking for, he wanted to watch you beg for him. So you would play nice, and give him that, as long as he gave you what you wanted.

You bit down on your bottom lip, shaking your head coyly. Spencer mimicked your action, his teeth dragging along his bottom lip. “You’re sure you’re okay with this?”

“Yes! Just fu-” you huffed, restraining yourself from acting out. “Just do something, please?” It was a well-balanced mixture between begging and demanding. You were obviously desperate, but you pleaded politely.

As if your pleading wasn’t enough already, you allowed your lips to pull into a pout, your eyes rounder than usual as you stared up at Spencer. “Since you asked so nicely” he replied, his fingers finally finding solace at your core, rubbing slow circles against your bundle of nerves.

Every moment of buildup was absolutely worth it as his fingers played you like a fiddle. Your mouth fell open, a low moan escaping your lips. “Spencer, fuck!”

“Look at you,” Spencer spat, his fingers moving down to your entrance. “Making a mess all over my hand.” Two of his long fingers entered you, crooking slightly. Your hand fell from his wrist, nails coming up to scratch back down his chest.

“Harder, fuck!” This is exactly what you wanted, his hands on your body, in your body, ravishing you. He obliged your request, the obscene sound of skin smacking against skin filling the room. Porn-worthy moans left your lips as his fingers curled more, rubbing perfectly against your dimpled patch of skin.

Your back arched off the wall, and your chest heaved with pants. If you wanted to keep your submissive control you would have to control yourself. It was hard to do with Spencer’s perfect fingers buried in your cunt, his other hand wrapped tightly around your neck, varying in pressure.

You lapped up every ounce of pleasure Spencer gave you. The feeling was addicting, your head clouded and free of external worries, as your eyes fluttered shut, lost in bliss. Your hips ground onto his hand as your orgasm approached.

The hand dancing on your windpipe retreated, quickly grabbing onto the sides of your face, forcing your lips into a pout. Your eyes snapped open, met with Spencer’s dark ones. “Look at me while you cum” his fingers worked faster, his wrist angling with every thrust so his palm would rub deliciously against your clit. “A man you just met, who you blindly followed into a car. How ignorant can you be? I guess it makes sense, you’re just another whore desperate for the validation of a man.”

His taunting words sent you barreling into your orgasm, screaming out his name over and over again. Your thighs clamped onto his hand, entrapping it between your legs. Spencer’s hand released your face, allowing your head to fall forward to rest against his chest. His free hand wrapped around your body, viciously digging into your ass.

Once your thighs relaxed, Spencer pulled his hand from your cunt, quick to bring them up to your mouth. “Open.” Your jaw fell open, allowing him to push his digits into your mouth. Immediately you alternated between sucking them and swirling your tongue around them, tasting yourself.

But your time together was rudely interrupted by a ringing that buzzed through the air, and you began to look around for the source of the sound. Your eyelids grew overwhelmingly heavy, and the scene around you became distorted, the colors swirling together. Finally, your body succumbed to the tiredness, allowing your eyes to shut and the ringing to fade.

When your eyes opened you were no longer in Spencer’s apartment, but your own dorm. Shit. You had slept through your alarm, too busy dreaming about your most recent one night stand.

Leave it to you to fuck up first impressions. Which is why you were speed walking to class in a pair of pajama shorts and an oversized t-shirt. You no doubt looked like you had just rolled out of bed, but I mean, you had.

Criminology honestly wasn’t something you needed to take, it was more for fun. It had piqued your interest. You had a hatred for all things school-related, and you thought, maybe if you took more interesting classes, you would be more motivated to do your schoolwork. It wasn’t that you weren’t grateful, your parents graciously decided to pay for your college. School was just something that was always difficult for you, and if you couldn’t meet everyone’s standards, what was the point in trying?

Money had never really been a problem for you growing up, and you were known to have a “bratty streak.” But, you tried your hardest to be humble, you knew your family was very fortunate to live the lifestyle they do. Sometimes, though, it could get the best of you, it was your biggest flaw, but at least you were self-aware.

You had really wanted to make a good impression, despite being the stereotypical “rich bitch,” you wanted to show there was more to you than miniskirts and sports cars.

You pushed open the dark wooden door slowly, trying not to disturb the lecture. At least you wouldn’t miss much, just the first half of the syllabus.

The professor turned to you, watching as you ducked your head, practically running up the auditorium and to the first open seat you saw. You hoped he would have resumed his lecture by the time you had set your stuff down, and picked up the syllabus off the table, but you were unlucky. His eyes were glued to you, you could feel them, and for the first time you looked up to see him.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Your eyes widened, and your jaw practically dropped to the floor, he seemed to reflect your look of astonishment. His hands frozen mid-air as if he was talking but suddenly stopped. There was no way, absolutely no way. How, how was this possible? What are the odds, what are the odds that your professor was Spencer, your most recent one night stand?

He stuttered like a deer in the headlights, his hands falling awkwardly to his sides. A hand from across the room shot up, and he immediately took the escape. “U-uh, yes?”

Your mind was reeling, how the hell had you fucked up this bad? What are the odds that your incredible one night stand turned out to be your professor?

Awkward couldn't even begin to describe the situation, and by the way Spencer’s body language shifted, you could tell he felt the same. His hands which usually flailed wildly while he spoke, stayed still at his sides, and his eyes looked anywhere but you.

By the time class was over, you were shifting uncomfortably in your seat, ready to bound out of the auditorium and switch classes. There was no way you could confront him, how are you supposed to, ‘oh, hey Spencer, how’s life? Still making girls come like crazy on your cock?’ Yeah, that definitely wouldn’t work.

You had already stuffed your laptop into your Louis Vuitton bag, pulling it over your shoulder. Students filed out of the room, and you prayed to every higher power that you disappeared into the crowd.

“Miss Y/N” fuck, if it were any other time, that phrase would be hot. You kept walking, in fact, you quickened your pace, and kept your eyes trained on the ground. “Miss Y/N, can I talk to you for a moment?” His voice was louder this time and dripped with authority. Out of all people in the club, you picked your future professor! But, unfortunately for Spencer, you were known to be very stubborn, so you continued your way to the door, your pace picking up speed. You were sure you looked insane rushing to the door, pushing through the crowd of students.

You looked up, body coming to a halt just in time to keep yourself from crashing into the back of a large man. You tried to say excuse me, and push past him, but he was like a giant brick wall, planted right in front of the door. There was no way for you to look around him and even see why he had stopped in the doorway like a fucking idiot.

A hand wrapped around your arm, grabbing your attention, and the sight was like something from a taboo nightmare. Spencer let go of your arm quickly, probably realizing how unprofessional it would look to the other students. “Stay behind for a moment, we need to talk.”

Snickers coursed around you, there was absolutely no way you were ever going to live this down. Hopefully, the other students thought he was apprehending you for being late, you couldn’t exactly explain how you unknowingly slept with your professor.

You followed Spencer back to his desk, standing politely to the side as the two of you awkwardly waited for the room to clear out. As soon as it did, your polite manner disappeared, and your hands met your hips as you shifted your weight onto one leg. “What the fuck?”

Spencer’s eyes widened at your language, his jaw falling open slightly. “You never told me you were a professor!” You exclaimed.

His eyes narrowed slightly, a defensive state taking over his body, “and you never told me you were a student!”

“I didn’t think it mattered! I’m twenty-four!!” You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest with an eye roll.

Spencer turned, planting his hands on his desk, “ you’re also my student!”

You groaned, so far neither of you were solving the problem, “no shit, sherlock!”

Spencer’s head turned, sending you a sharp glare. You hated to say it but that would've been so hot if it weren’t for the fact he was your professor.

“Let’s just keep things professional.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “so just pretend it never happened?” It would be a hard task if he was going to dress in a suit like that every day. His tie was a deep maroon color, contrasting against his cream undershirt. His blazer fit his shoulders well, hugging his body perfectly, and all you wanted to do was tear it off.

“Yes, I’m not going to make you switch classes. Neither of us knew, it would be unfair for me to punish you.” Spencer stated, pulling himself back from the desk to face you.

You shifted slightly at the word punish, who the hell uses the word punish in a non-sexual context? Biting your lip, you tried your hardest to suppress a giggle, it was just so hard. A giggle escaped your mouth, your hand flying up to cover your mouth.

Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed, visibly confused by your outburst. “T-there’s no way you just said the word ‘punish’ in a non-sexual context,” you said between giggles.

Just then a ringing sounded through the room, cutting off your laughter. Spencer glanced at his phone, picking it up quickly, obviously seeking escape from you.

You spun on your heel, taking it as your cue to leave. Right as you approached the door Spencer called out your name, halting you. “Please put on some more appropriate clothing before coming to class.”

A smirk tugged at your lips, deep down you knew this wasn’t over. Especially not after that line, and while walking out the door you made sure to sway your hips a little more than usual.

The next few criminology classes you attended, you behaved like a good little girl. But, slowly, your clothing dwindled, until you had walked into class in a plaid pleated skirt and a cropped tank, the perfect schoolgirl. Now, this wasn’t your only tactic, from what you gathered over the few classes you experienced, nothing peeved Spencer like false factoids. Which you made sure to quote, as long as the numbers were off by one or two points.

Usually, Spencer would have no problem correcting people, but it was different when you were correcting him. Today was like any other, you felt his eyes on you as soon as you walked in the door. Yet you refused to give him the time of day, innocently talking to your friend as you took your seats. You were clad in a skirt, and an old band shirt you had cropped. The outfit seemed perfectly normal for someone your age, unless you counted the fact that the shirt was short enough to expose the bottom half of your lace black bralette.

The lecture began like any other, and you absentmindedly listened for the perfect time to cut in. You had been interested in the class in the beginning, but as always, your focus shifted on Spencer. The way his large hands moved when he spoke, and how he dug his teeth into his bottom lip. You were sure half the people in the class were just there to admire Spencer, I mean, can you blame them? Have you seen the man? He’s the definition of perfection.

Your hand shot up in the air, the corners of your mouth upturned in a slight smirk. You could practically see the dread in Spencer's eyes, his shoulders drooping slightly. “Yes?”

“Can you repeat that one more time?” You questioned, pulling your laptop in front of your body, as if ready to type.

Spencer’s eyes narrowed slightly, scanning you. “Oh, you don’t need to write it down.”

You looked up from your computer, feigning an innocent look as your head tilted slightly, “it sounded pretty important.”

He shoved his pockets, letting out a slight huff, “then maybe you should’ve paid more attention.” With that he continued his lecture, leaving you smirking to yourself. You were definitely getting under his skin.

You slid your computer into your bag, pulling it over your shoulder. For the first time, you initiated eye contact, turning to look at Spencer, only to find him glaring daggers at you. God, you were really in for it.

An innocent smile took over your face, deciding to push him just a bit further, you raised your hand giving him a teasing wave. If possible, his eyes got darker, and his arms crossed over his chest. His button-down was rolled up his arms, leaving his perfect veins on display.

His arms unfolded, one of his hands motioning you towards him. Who would you be to ignore him? You bounded down the stairs, anticipation winding in your stomach. You stopped at the bottom of the stairs, watching as the last group of students walked out of the door.

Your body shifted towards Spencer, “what's up?” You asked.

He scoffed, shaking his head in astonishment, “what do you want from me?”

A sickly sweet smile curled onto your face as you took a few steps closer to Spencer, like a lioness circling her prey. “I’m pretty sure you know what I want Dr. Reid.” With another couple slow steps forward you were within a foot of Spencer. “You’re a smart cookie.”

The corners of Spencer’s mouth twitched into a smirk, mimicking your own. His arm shot out, wrapping swiftly around your elbow, and with one sharp tug, you were chest to chest with Spencer.

His hot breath hit your ear with the new proximity, “correct me if I’m wrong. You want me to bend you over my desk, hike up your pathetic excuse of a skirt, and fuck you until you’re shaking around my cock?”

Someone needed to call the firefighters, because it was getting hot in there. Your mouth fell open in a delirious smile. “I don’t think I’m the only one here who wants that.” You ran a hand down his chest, continuing its trail till it stopped to rest over the slight bulge in his slacks.

Spencer let out a light groan at your touch, “you’re my student.” He protested.

“You’re not pushing me away, professor.”

At first, the only sign he gave you that you had won him over was his tongue poking out to wet his lips. But, quickly, using the hand on your elbow as leverage, he spun you around, shoving you face-first into his desk.

The impact caused you to let out a sharp yelp, your breasts squished harshly against the desk, the wood pressing hard into the top of your thighs. “How taboo, professor, fucking your bratty student over your desk.”

His hand tangled in the roots of your hair, pulling your head back slightly, so you were facing the auditorium. He leaned over you, his breath hitting your ear, and his now noticeable bulge rubbing against your ass. “You think I’m just going to fuck you? A pathetic whore like you doesn’t deserve my cock.”

His words pulled a giggle from your lips, quick to remind him, “well, you already have.”

You wanted to push him to the edge, you craved to feel the anger coursing through him as he pounded you into the desk. He let out a huff, the smooth skin of his hands brushing against your backside as he hiked up your skirt, exposing your ass. A laugh sounded through the air, and he hooked a finger in the lace fabric of your black thong, pulling lightly and letting it snap back against your skin. “Did you wear this just for me?”

“Would you want me to?” You could tell your snide comments were irking him, as his hands ran over your smooth skin, gripping harshly at your ass.

His hands left your skin, and the rustling of fabric could be heard behind you. “Open your mouth.” Your eyebrows knitted in confusion, still, you obeyed, letting your jaw fall open. Fabric filled your mouth as he pulled his tie around your head as a makeshift gag, working to knot the two ends behind you. A muffled protest left your mouth, and you attempted to push yourself from the desk.

But, Spencer had other plans, one of his palms fell to the small of your back, pushing you firmly back against the desk. “I’m tired of your backtalk, you’ll speak when spoken to. Understand?”

You nodded your head against the desk, but that wasn’t what he wanted, as he spoke again, “do you understand?” His voice was sharp and enunciated, and you would be lying if you said it didn’t around you.

“Yeth thir” you garbled through the tie, the pure humiliation of your distorted voice causing a flush to cover your cheeks.

Spencer hummed lightly, “what a pretty sound, almost as pretty as this one.” Once again you were left confused, the answer coming in the form of a swift smack as his hand collided with your ass. Your body lurched forward against the desk, a muffled scream leaving your mouth.

“Thank me, sweetheart. You’re lucky I’m even touching you.” Spencer growled out, before his hand came crashing down again against your backside. It was harsh and painful, yet you didn’t want him to stop. You were sure it must’ve hurt his hand, you know it would hurt yours.

“Thank you, thir.” The tie was warm in from your hot breath, and you could feel spit starting to trail out the corners of your mouth. Never in your life could the term hot mess be so accurate.

Spencer continued his assault on your ass, again and again, leaving your skin red hot and burning. Each time you thanked him, and each time your speech became more and more pathetic as you squirmed against the desk. The overwhelming desire getting the best of you.

His finger hooked in your underwear, this time pulling them to the side. His long digits parted your slick folds. “Maybe I will fuck you, not sure if I’ll let you cum though.” He thought aloud.

You whined at his words, stretching out against the desk to push your ass back towards him, longing for more friction. The action caused his fingers to run deliciously over your clit, eliciting a low moan from your mouth.

“Pleath, pleath fuck me.” It was crazy how quick he could break down your resolve, no longer fighting, but rather eagerly submitting to him.

His touch left your body, the glorious sound of clinking metal and rustling clothes following his retreat. “You’re lucky you’re such a pretty whore.” One of his hands met the side of your hip, the other reached up to grab a hold of your hair. The head of his cock pushed past your folds as he sheathed himself inside you.

The sounds and curses you released were muffled by the tie, Spencer pulled back almost completely, before slamming back into you. The feeling of his warm cock plunging in and out of you was incredible, and you were sure he felt the same, as he let out low moans behind you.

With each thrust his hips smacked against your sore ass, adding to the redness. The hand buried in your hair began to yank you back in time with his thrusts. “Is this what you wanted? For me to bury my cock in you? For me to punish you?”

You attempted to answer, but all that came out was a screech. His hand left your hair, letting the top half of your body collapse onto the desk. He used both hands to grab your hips, pulling you up as he thrusted, the new angle allowed him to brush against your g-spot. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, and your jaw clenched, teeth baring down on the tie.

It was times like these that made you question whether or not you were a sex addict. Because the feeling of being filled was completely intoxicating, you never wanted it to end. “You know, you’re a very smart girl. Maybe if you thought with your head more, and not your cunt, you would do better in my class.”

Well, it was hard to pay any attention when your professor was Spencer fucking Reid. He laughed behind you, “but you can’t do that, can you? You’re so desperate for cock, that you purposely corrected me with false information so you could get a rise out of me.”

Your body had devolved to a moaning mess, and you squirmed unceremoniously against the desk. You could feel your orgasm threatening to overtake you from the telltale signs of your legs beginning to shake under you, and your hips rutting back against Spencer wildly.

“It worked, didn’t it? You got what you wanted? Because, now you’re here, cumming on my cock.”

Like magic, his words pulled your orgasm from your body. You sobbed into the tie, and your nails scratched against his desk. You barely registered Spencer pulling out behind you, groaning as ropes of his cum coated your ass.

Heavy breaths filled the room as the two of you came down from your orgasms. “You okay?” Spencer rasped. His hands came up to your head, fumbling with the knotted tie.

The tie slipped from your mouth, falling onto the desk. “Yeah,” your voice was equally as hoarse as his, if not more.

“Good,” he replied.

Your next class of Professor Reid’s you actually decided to pay attention and withhold your annoying commentary. Like always, the students began to file out when the class ended, yet you took your time. When the last student walked out you turned to Spencer, watching as his head tilted slightly. He was thinking, probably figuring out what you were trying to do. But, there was no need for that.

You walked to his desk, a genuine smile etched onto your face. “You up for lunch, Dr.Reid?”

His eyes narrowed at you, a light smile crossing his face, “just lunch?”

“Hmm… maybe more than lunch.” You giggled.

He turned picking up his satchel, and pulling it over his head, to rest across his body. “Only if you promise to be a good girl.” He said, taking a step towards you.

You pouted playfully at him, “I’m never good, doctor.” The statement caused the two of you to laugh, before you were off to a discreet lunch.

Tag list: @pinkdiamond1016 @gubler-squad @obsessed-with-spencerreid

[creativefiend19]

A Raven Cycle kinky fic list

I made this for a Tumblr Anon. I’ve limited this to mostly one-shots to keep the focus on the kinky stuff. 

There’s various kinks and pairings (and not just pairings sometimes) so please check the tags, warnings and relationships for each before you read. 

Continued under the cut, in no particular order. Enjoy!

*

be lying if i said you ain't the one by @brophigenia​​ -  The week that Ronan and Blue take up macrame is the week that Adam realizes he may have a Thing for rope. And Ronan. Ronan with rope.

hold your breath and fall by @anirondack​​ -  First time Adansey sex feat. Gansey's sex fantasies and ridiculously sensitive neck (which Adam doesn't know about).

Red Thread by @seekthemist​​ - (Multiple relationships and warnings) A/N: Collection of short, unapologetically dirty fics that I wrote as prompt fills from Tumblr asks. Every chapter will have an associated prompt sentence and a given (variable) couple.

those long hot summer nights by imalwaysstraight - Entropy had stuck with Ronan (...) and looking—yes, looking with his own damn eyes—at a nude photo of Adam Parrish on his own damn phone. Holy mother of God. Oh fuck.

My Wild Lover, My Wicked Beast by @linndechir​​ - Ronan doesn't want to go home yet after Kavinsky's substance party. And this is not the kind of night when Gansey wants to hold him back.

So Good For Me by @beautifulmagick​​​ -  Ronan wakes up from a sexy dream only to find Adam just as turned on as he is. Then, of course, the baby wakes up.

work a little harder, work another way by @toast-the-unknowing​ - Ronan has an unexpected kink, and Adam is totally fine with that. Why wouldn't he be? He can handle this. It's not a problem.

Take Me Home by @henriettahoney​​ - Ronan didn’t get it. Not yet. He was still mentally rifling through possibilities. Maybe Adam was already considering the end of the summer too heavily (...) Maybe he truly was just tired. Ronan rested a hand on his thigh beneath the table, because, shut up, he could be a comforting boyfriend, and felt approximately ninety percent of his blood stop circulating.

backseat driving by @the-real-izzygone -  (Rovinsky) Sex in the Camaro, post-crash.

when i take it out, you start cryin' by @brophigenia​​ - “Weren’t you in Mad Max: Fury Road?” A skinny-looking kid in a pair of very short denim shorts slurred, pressing all along Ronan’s front and gazing up at him like he was a beautiful mirage. (...) Ronan and Adam have sex in a gay club bathroom. That's it. That's the fic.

verb in perfect view by jordanhennessy -  'You know,' said Adam, 'that I think you’re beautiful, right?' Ronan’s back went taut under his fingertips.

Mouth Open (1-2-3) by @flightspath​​ - Adam takes it in, looks at Ronan’s open face again. There’s a flush of sweat beading at his hairline, and Ronan’s brow is smooth and unfurrowed. He looks peaceful. He looks filthy. He’s holding his mouth open, soft and wanting.

Your heart is heavy and red by @ninswhimsy​​​ - This is for everyone who knows implicitly that Declan Lynch needs to be completely wrecked until he cries and Jordan is just the woman to do it. Filthy, with feelings.

nothing else but the feeling by asael -  No one would be able to tell that Adam is turning this into a careful, quiet seduction. That he’s teasing Ronan.

once is happenstance by @the-real-izzygone  -  In which Gansey has a lot of needs, and Declan provides for basically all of them.

iunctaque semper erunt nomina nostra tuis by sleeptodream - “It looks like nothing Adam’s ever experienced before, like a home.” (An unexpected encounter in the lead up to Christmas has Adam reflecting on what home means to him. Smut and feelings ensue.)

Patience Is A Virtue by @toast-the-unknowing​ - Adam is totally fine with waiting, until Ronan finds out that's what he's doing.

The Sword and the Shield by darkrosaleen -  (Ronsey) A king is only as good as the sword in his knight's hand. A knight's sword is only as good as the devotion in his heart. 

we are fixed right where we stand by @toast-the-unknowing​ -  Ronan comes home from DC with a surprise for Adam, because just saying "I missed you" is boring.

As certain dark things are loved by @linndechir​​ - "You keep talking about leashing me, Gansey, but you never do." Ronan licked his lips, a dirty challenge in his eyes that made Gansey take the leash from his hand despite his initial hesitation.

Territorial by @ohwhoopsok  - The tattoo isn’t an offence. It’s a part of Ronan and while he finds some parts more tedious than others, Adam loves all of Ronan’s parts. But in this moment, it doesn’t seem quite fair that Ronan is bearing only the mark of a stranger on his back, beautiful though it is. (Adam Parrish is not used to having things and Ronan Lynch fancies decoration.)

Here Lost Amongst Our Winnings by @thetiredandthedreamers -  Ronan doesn't remember saying yes but he's pretty sure that he didn't say no, either; somehow, Kavinsky knows exactly what he needs. (Warning: this fic has no tags at all on AO3. So this is me telling you that it’s unnegotiated dom/sub, with drugs, degradation, bondage and discipline. And Kavinksy ofc is his own blah blah).

the one with the kinkshaming by @arielmagicesi​ - A/N: “this is the worst thing I've ever done in my life. also the most sexual thing I've ever written considering it's basically a crack fic (mercilessly mocking Ronan and Adam for their weird kinks)” 

everything we think we need by archer_of_fate - Gansey is home, Gansey is everything he wants but knows he can never have in the way Ronan needs him.

Send Nudes by @henriettahoney​ - It’s not like they’ve never explored this territory before. Not Adam and Gansey, but Adam and Gansey and Ronan.  It’s been a long time. Since late high school, at least, and Adam’s twenty-two now—in his last year of undergrad. But he remembers everything about it. Remembers what Gansey sounds like when he’s verging on desperate. Spoiler alert: it’s just like this.

chased our shadows on the ground by @toast-the-unknowing​ - Adam had been afraid when he moved out of state that it was going to be hard to get Ronan to call him. It turns out that it's harder to get Ronan off of the phone.

Safe With Me by @babzgordon​ - Ronan requests a unique birthday present. Adam delivers. They can't be sexy without being losers about it.

As always, feel free to add to this list, if you have any recs.