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mrs-elsie-barnes · 10 months ago

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Give Me Shelter, For My Heart | Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader | One Shot? 3k

Things are missing around the Avengers' compound and a newly returned Bucky is acting weirder than normal...Steve and Sam go to investigate and discover more than they bargained for.

Warnings: 18+ for language and suggestion of Hydra violence/torture/experimentation, omegaverse themes including alpha & omega, suggestion of pregnancy/pups, wolf shifting Rated F for Fluff and G for good friends

Challenges & Prompts: @buckybarnesevents Alpha Bucky April with extra prompts - word count, nesting, purring, beta characters, (I'll let mods decide if this hits the breeding/baby fever prompt). And @fandom-free-bingo 'forehead kisses'

Graphic by me and Canva, dividers by @firefly-graphics & @reveriesources

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes

“Hmm,” Steve looked around the supply room, surveying the gaps and empty shelves, normally well stocked with blankets and provisions. It was the third time this week he’d found himself at a loss, not just for words but his things too. Everything seemed to be going missing.

First it was a few plates and mugs from the galley kitchen by his office, then it’d been the lunch he’d left for him and Bucky in the fridge. Last night he’d gone into Bucky’s room to make sure he was okay and found the man sleeping on a bare mattress, all the sheets, pillows and blankets were gone and the newly revived Bucky refused to explain what had happened to them or even acknowledge that there was anything wrong at all. He hadn’t even addressed that fact that the window was wide open and it looked as if he was sleeping in his shoes.

Which brought Steve’s thoughts to the man himself. Bucky had been so odd since he’d returned. For a day or two, he’d been something like his old self, despite the awful situation they found themselves in, he’d joked with Steve and reminisced with the few memories he had. They’d enjoyed a beer together and he’d even met with Tony during their mediation and patched things up.

Then, they’d all climbed onto the jet and he’d become distant, pacing like a caged animal until they’d landed. As soon as the doors were open he’d vanished for forty-eight hours and sent the entire compound into mayhem before strolling back in as if nothing had happened, bruised and covered in blood. Judging by the bandages he sported later that day, his cuts and bruises spread under his shirt and trousers too.

Steve knew that he’d changed during his time with Hyrda, back in the 30s they’d both been betas, happy to plod along ignoring the madness of the few alpha’s in Brooklyn. It had been a rare thing then, to be an alpha, now they were considered a dying breed, so when Bruce’s tests had revealed that Bucky was an alpha now, they’d tried to take it in their stride that he might go off on his own sometimes, especially since omegas were even rarer. But there was still so much they didn’t know, so much to unpack and discover about the Bucky they’d rescued, and Steve was so desperate to spend time getting to know this new man that all the time apart was making him worry.

“You okay?” Sam asked from the doorway, leaning in to hand Steve a hot cup of coffee.

“Just doing a stock check.”

“He take something else?” Sam stepped into the small room, lined with shelves and shelves of tents, camping stoves, parachutes, it seemed to go on and on. The bare grey shelves where stock was missing was stark against the white washed walls.

“He?”

“Barnes,” Sam sipped his coffee, matter of fact, and Steve confronted the worry that had been plaguing him.

“It’s Bucky, isn’t it?” Steve dropped his head heavily and Sam patted him on the back, still sipping his drink.

“Sorry man, told you, he’s not right yet. He’s not hurting anyone though, if he hates his bedding, who cares, if he hates your lunches, who could blame him.”

Sam sidestepped Steve’s halfhearted swipe with a grin on his face.

“But what’s he doing with it, Sam? Where’s it all going?”

“Hell, I don’t know, have you asked him?” Sam raised his eyebrows.

Had Steve asked his best friend, who flinched at his touch and shied away from any conversations? Bucky who vanished for hours at a time and came back looking as if he’d been dragged through a hedge? No, he hadn’t. He’d been too scared to confront what might be going on, what latent part of his programming might be at play.

“Look, if you’re too scared to ask why don’t I?”

Now it was Steve’s turn to raise his eyebrow, it wasn’t that Sam and Bucky didn’t get along, they just didn’t get along yet. Steve was working on it.

“What if we…followed him?” He offered instead and Sam laughed again.

“Who knew Captain America was scared of his own friends,” he couldn’t contain the chuckles. “Fine, fine. Let’s keep an eye on him.” Sam turned to the ceiling, more comfortable with the AI than Steve was. “FRIDAY, if Sergeant Barnes leaves his room, please can you alert us - privately?”

“Of course,” the soft voice answered and Steve gave his friend a weak smile.

FRIDAY’S alert went off twice a day, every day, over the next week. But despite their best efforts neither Steve nor Sam managed to catch up with Bucky.

It wasn’t until the following Saturday that they managed to follow him. Bucky was supposed to be at a training session to get his official certifications but they’d both had a feeling he’d try and skip it. As predicted they’d spotted the blue of his new henley edging around the side of the compound, a full backpack strapped to his back.

Bucky ran across the grass and towards the thick forest. His still uncut hair was tied back but tendrils fell out as he sprinted into the wind.

He was surprisingly loud, as he strode quickly between the trees, snapping twigs and branches that Steve knew he could’ve dodge even before the serum and his training. Sam looked at him, both of their feet silent as they followed.

Bucky’s speed increased as he turned his face up into the breeze, his backpack jostled against the trees, bouncing when he began to run.

Steve kept up, sending Sam wide, into the breeze, in case Bucky doubled back.

Just as he was starting to feel lost in the repetition of trees and ferns, Bucky burst into a clearing and Steve slammed to a halt.

The pine trees gave way to a small patch of clear sky, shining down on an old shed. Unlike the other abandoned guard houses, this one had obviously been cleaned recently. The small porch was swept and a pair of Avengers camping chairs were arranged neatly facing into the forest. A line had been strung between the cabin and the trees where one of the missing blankets fluttered in the gentle wind.

Steve crouched down, motioning to Sam on the other side of the clearing to stay out of sight.

Bucky approached slowly, “Cățeluș, are you here?”

At first there was nothing and then a wolf nosed its way out from behind the door, it’s chestnut brown fur almost gold in the sunlight. It leaped forwards from the porch and shot across the clearing, leaping into Bucky’s arms.

Steve whipped his head up to try and find Sam and by the time his eyes found Bucky again the wolf was gone, replaced by a woman pulling on a large t-shirt from Bucky’s backpack.

“James!” Her sweet voice rang out in the otherwise quiet forest.

Swamped by Bucky’s familiar red henley, you shot from the door and into Bucky's waiting arms, the back pack dropped to the floor and forgotten.

She was swamped by Bucky’s red henley and he wrapped you in his arms, one large hand on the back of your head, tucking you into his neck. The other supported your legs, now wrapped around his waist.

In the clearing Bucky's shoulders relaxed as he sank into your embrace, kissing and nipping at your neck. In return you tipped your head, practically purring at the attention and wriggling in his arms.

“Have you been okay, baby.” Bucky asked, pulling away enough to look you over.

“I'm okay, I missed you though, James, please don't leave me again.” You begged cupping his stubbled cheeks in your hands.

Bucky turned into your palm and kissed it, “I know, I know, I’ve been making sure it’s safe for you.”

Steve's heart sank. Bucky didn't feel safe?

“You trust me, don't you, my little omega.” Bucky rubbed his nose into your cheek and you giggled, holding him even tighter, your hands in his hair.

An omega?

Sam stared over at Steve, eyes wide.

It was clear to them both that this was no chance encounter and all Bucky’s odd behaviour suddenly started to make more sense.

Steve motioned for Sam to leave, they could sneak back to the compound and perhaps bring this up tentatively. Perhaps leave some items you might like lying around in the hopes that Bucky would take them and understand that his secret was out, but it was safe.

Sam moved swiftly round the clearing as Steve continued to watch Bucky.

Bucky vanished into the cabin, leaving you on the porch alone, snuggled into his shirt and pressing the collar to your nose.

“She’s cute,” Sam whispered, squeezing up against Steve, still hiding in the overgrown ferns that lined the edge of the cabin.

“We can’t let her sleep out here. She must be hungry and cold.”

Bucky emerged from the cabin carrying two of the missing mugs, balancing them carefully on the railing before scooping you up into his lap. His hand hovered by his mouth, sipping in slow motion as his eyes scanned the tree line and Steve took a breath, sitting back quickly.

“Stay here, Cățeluș,” he was up in a flash, eyes always on the tree line even when he reached into his boot to pull out a familiar gerber knife.

Instead of flipping it into his palm, he balanced it on the arm of your camping chair. Eyes still on the trees he placed his metal hand on top of your head, “stay here and stay safe, follow the plan, do what you need to.” His voice was low, series, almost a growl. Far away from the happy, loving tones he’d been speaking to you with before.

You nodded, and as soon as he felt your head move he was up and off the porch.

Steve and Sam looked up in time to see a wolf leap towards them.

It was true then, the experiments had worked and Steve had the cold feeling that returned every time he discovered something new about his friend during a fight, but he had no time to worry about it now. Not when the wolf was closing in on them.

It was huge, its white fur dusted with fallen leaves, but its teeth gleamed in the afternoon sun as he pounced, snarling. His paws the size of dinner plates slamming into the ground in front of them, teeth bared and snarling.

Steve rolled away, pulling Sam with him and covering his body, regretting not bringing the shield.

“Bucky!” Sam shouted from under Steve’s arm

“Bucky it’s us we don’t want to hurt you!”

The wolf pulled back from the two men pinned beneath him, and something like clarity passed over Bucky’s icey blue eyes and he sat on his haunches, head cocked to one side, ears floppy. Then it stood, rounding the bushes and, in a blink, the man had reappeared still hiding before the foliage to cover his naked body.

“Steve -” Bucky looked thoroughly confused,

“Bucky, we’re so sorry we shouldn’t have followed you.”

“What are you doing here?” Bucky’s voice wavered, his body cold without his fur and with his clothes left behind in the cabin.

“We were worried about you, man, you’ve been so weird - stealing stuff, going missin’, can you blame us for getting creeped out?” Sam raised his eyebrows and Bucky’s brow furrowed.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I just had to -” he gestured back towards the cabin and, as if remembering he’d left you behind with no way of knowing he was safe he turned and ran back to the clearing.

Steve and Sam jumped up, chasing after Bucky once more.

The cabin porch was empty when Steve picked his way down the slope of mud and rocks into the clearing.

A howl rang out as he got closer to the little house, a high, pained sound and then the response came, low and level.

There were two wolves now, hidden at the side of the cabin in the shadows.

The white wolf kept itself half turned towards Steve and Sam, who kept quiet and still, barely daring to breathe, allowing its companion to approach slowly.

The brown wolf dropped in front of the white, ears flat back against its head, and then rolled over, showing a soft belly that the white wolf nuzzled gently before turning back to Steve and barking sharply.

Steve held his hands up and the wolf barked again, turning tail and returning to the cabin.

It took only moments for Bucky to show himself on the porch, pulling his henley back down over his now dirt streaked belly.

“Come in,” he gestured up the stairs and vanished again.

The cabin, though run down, was well kept. The porch was swept of leaves and there was even a little mat by the door.

“Shoes,” you whispered, pulling on Bucky’s sleeve as you entered the main living space, making an attempt to hide behind him. You’d dressed again too, also in one of Bucky’s henleys and a pair of leggings that Steve recognised as Avengers recruit issue.

“Do you mind?” Bucky asked while Steve and Sam stared between you both.

“Shoes,” you turned to look up at Bucky again, eyes pleading in one moment and then flicking to the two new men treading mud into your home.

“Your shoes, take them off.” Bucky helped them arrange their boots neatly by the door while you pottered around the fireplace. “This is her nest,” he whispered, making sure the doormat was straight and the little curtain was neat over the window. “It’s important to omegas, to her,” you turned shooting a glare over your shoulder, “to us-that it’s kept just right and she hates shoes inside.”

In the small living space a camping stove had been set up with a kettle, a portable fridge, and an assortment of mugs, both Avengers field regulation and novelty, which were set neatly on the mantel. You chose four, and placed them next to the kettle while it steamed happily away.

Bucky spoke softly to you in a mixture of English and Romanian, but you didn’t come any closer to the strange men. You’d seen them before, on the television and in Bucky’s notebooks, but now that they were here, so large and imposing, you couldn’t bring yourself to even look over.

“This is Cățeluș, well, that’s not her real name but we couldn’t find that. She - uh -” you watched Bucky struggle for words and lay a hand on his cheek, smiling warmly up at him. Your Winter, your James. “-I don’t want to say the word, it upsets her, but she was with me when I was - him - part of the experiments.”

You poured the tea quietly, watching the steam rise into the darts of sun making their way through the broken knots of wood in the wall, and you took a deep breath. With shaking hands you gave the first man, Sam, a cup. He had a gentle face, a wide smile and he didn’t look at you with pity, as you feared, only interest.

The second man held his breath as you approached, keeping his hands as close to his body as possible until you pushed the cup towards him. Steve. Bucky had lots of pictures of Steve in his notebooks and had told you more stories than you could remember, but he didn’t look sickly, he looked too big for the space, his shoulders drawn in, slouched. You appreciated that he was trying not to look scary, even though your every nerve was on edge.

Bucky took the proffered mug from your hands with a kiss to your forehead and you sighed, allowing him to steer you to the only arm chair in the room and then passing you your own tea.

“We got out, eventually and - I brought her here.” Bucky sat on the rolled arm of the chair, draping his own arm over your shoulders and fitting you into his side.

Steve and Sam could only stare.

“Why didn’t you bring her to the compound? She can stay -” Steve turned to you, “you can stay, either in Bucky’s room or you can have your own room if you’d prefer.”

It took you a moment to process the offer, but eventually you shook your head, turning into Bucky’s side.

“It was awful - in there, with them she, we both -” Bucky struggled for the words, the desire to protect you rising inside

“It’s okay,” Sam said carefully, “I know the transition’s been rough on you, Bucky, I can’t imagine what it’s been like for her, how you even got her out here. But there’s nothing to be afraid of, maybe she’ll come with you? If you suggest it?”

Sam kept looking at you, his eyes soft and encouraging but you turned away, pressed your face into Bucky’s ribs where his scent had soaked through his shirt, reassuring and primal, chanting in your head Alpha, safe, Alpha, safe. You did miss him, when he was gone, but how could he keep you safe in that place.

You’d seen it, once or twice, through the trees when you took a walk, looking for whatever you could find in the forest. Guards left lots of things behind, bottles and coats and jackets, useful things. You collected them all, skirting around the edge of that horrid white building and hoping to never see the terrifying things that flew out of it, men in suits and robots, it was too much.

“You can bring whatever you like with you, and maybe Nat and Wanda could help you with some new things, if you liked?” Steve followed Sam’s lead, keeping his voice steady and low.

“James - my nest.” You mumbled, gripping his henley in your fist.

He dropped a hand onto your head, “we can do whatever you like, baby. You want to stay here, we can stay, you want to go to the compound, we’ll go.”

You felt Bucky’s heart rate pick up, its beat hammering and your anxiety grew too, your breathing more ragged, you turned even further into him, practically climbing into his lap, the henley you’d taken from him riding up.

Instantly you knew it was a mistake, the scars of your time in Hydra were still visible, raised on your skin, yellowing patches of healing bruises and calloused skin from repeated bouts in the chair.

Sam and Steve could barely conceal their inhale of breath.

“Bucky, did you get her checked by a doctor or…” Sam trailed off, Bucky looked angry again, his arms fully surrounding you.

“And what would I have said, Sam?” He growled, “I know she looks like she’s been kept in a cage and beaten but please don’t arrest me, I promise it wasn’t me? Her social security number? Sorry, I don’t have it, we don’t even know her name. I did the best I could.” His anger tipped over into a resigned sadness. Bucky cupped your face in one hand and forced you to look up at him, “I did the best I could, baby, I really did.”

You nodded and his grip loosened so you could nuzzle into his chest again, your own tears running down your cheeks at the memory of those early days. Bucky’s shaking hands patching up your burns and cuts, the whisky you’d slugged before he pulled out a stray bullet from your arm and stitched it with floss. Every touch had been gentle though, every time he’d changed your bandages or cleaned you up, it had been gentle. It had been everything he could give you.

“We didn’t mean it like that, Buck,but we could help, get her checked over and then you can come back here.” Sam’s voice was plaintive, deliberately soothing and it made Bucky’s blood boil.

“I’m not taking her to that place.” He bit back, there was no mistaking the way he curled you into his body, tucking your head under his chin and wrapping his arms around your back.

It didn’t hurt anymore, to be touched, but then it’d never hurt to be touched by James. His hands had always been careful with you, his strength used only for protection and it was for that reason that you lay your trust in him completely.

“Don’t make me go, Alpha.” You whispered, your lips brushing the base of his neck where you’d marked him, right over his scent gland, your teeth marks an eternal brand. You nuzzled into him, your chest rumbling again.

“I won’t make you go,” he looked back at Steve and Sam, the finality of his decision sat heavily in the air.

“Can we at least bring some medical things here? Would you let Sam check you out?” Steve offered, he was increasingly concerned by the way Bucky had retreated into the chair, his own legs now curled up on the overstuffed cushion.

Above you, James nodded once, “just you and Sam, don’t tell anyone else. I’ll know if you tell anyone else.” The panic edging Bucky’s voice had Steve raising his hands in surrender.

“I promise, Buck, just Sam and I.”

Sam and Steve left the cabin at dusk while you and Bucky watched from the deck. As soon as they were beyond the trees he pulled you even tighter against his chest, his heat warm.

“Everything is going to be okay, baby, I promise, no one’s going to ever, ever, hurt you again.” His hands slid down your arms and across the slow swell of your belly. “But we should consider their offer, make sure we’re making a choice that’s good for you and me, as well as them.” His palm pushed up under your shirt, splayed on your tight skin and, deep inside, your pup pushed back.

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x female reader #alpha bucky barnes #alpha!bucky #alpha bucky x reader #alpha bucky x omega reader #omegaverse #bucky barnes events #Alpha Bucky April

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ranfrenglazer · 20 days ago

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Columbine - The Story

(Please reblog and like it took hours.)

Here I will inform you about the Columbine Shooting that occurred in 1999, April 20th. TW: suicide, theft, guns, and violence. by: ♡ danielle k. 🖇

Early Lives

Eric H. :

Eric David Harris was born on April 9, 1981, in Wichita, Kansas. Harris's parents were both born and raised in Colorado. His mother, Katherine Ann Poole, was a homemaker. His father, Wayne Harris, was working in the United States Air Force as a transport pilot. In 1983, the family moved to Dayton, Ohio, when Harris was two years old. Six years later, the family relocated to Oscoda, Michigan. Michigan pastor William Stone lived across the street from the Harris family while they were located in Oscoda. Stone recalled them as "great neighbors" and often saw Wayne very engaged with his sons. The Harris family then moved to Plattsburgh, New York, in 1991. During his time at Stafford Middle School, Harris played Little League Baseball, regularly went to birthday parties and was "part of the crowd". Kyle Ross, a former classmate of Harris, said, "He was just a typical kid." The Harris family finally settled back in Littleton, Colorado the next year when Wayne retired from the military.

On a 1997 English class assignment, Harris wrote about how difficult the move was from New York to Colorado. "It was the hardest moving from Plattsburgh. I have the most memories from there", Harris continued. "When I left (his friends) I felt alone, lost and even agitated that I had spent so much time with them and now I have to go because of something I can't stop." Harris, in a basement tape, blamed his father for moving the family around, forcing Harris to "start out at the bottom of the ladder." Harris had a chest deformity known as pectus excavatum, in which the breastbone sinks into the chest. This made Harris reluctant to take his shirt off in gym class as other students ridiculed him. Harris had two cosmetic surgeries at age 12 and 13 to repair the deformity. The sunken chest was still mildly observable during his autopsy.

The Harris family lived in rented accommodations for the first three years that they lived in the Littleton area. While Harris was in 7th grade, he met Klebold. In 1996, the Harris family purchased and settled at a house south of Columbine High School. Harris's older brother, Kevin, attended college at the University of Colorado. Harris's father took a job with Flight Safety Services Corporation and Harris's mother became a caterer.

Harris entered Columbine High School in 1995 as a freshman. Columbine had just gone through a major renovation and expansion. From all accounts, he had many friends and was left forward and mid-field on the Columbine soccer team for his freshman and sophomore year. Josh Swanson, one of his teammates, said that Harris was a "solid" soccer player who enjoyed the sport a lot. During his freshman year, Harris met Tiffany Typher. They had German class together. Typher later recounted that Harris quickly wooed her. Harris asked her to homecoming and she accepted. After the event, it appeared that Typher was no longer interested in seeing Harris anymore, for reasons never disclosed. When Typher refused to socialize with Harris again, Harris staged a fake suicide, sprawling on the ground with fake blood splashed all over him. When Typher saw him on the ground, she began to scream for help, at which point Harris and his friends began laughing, prompting Typher to storm off, shouting at Harris to get psychological help.

Dylan K. :

Dylan Bennet Klebold was born on September 11, 1981, in Lakewood, Colorado, to Thomas and Sue Klebold. On the day after the shooting, Klebold's mother remembered that shortly after Klebold's birth, she described what felt like a shadow cast over her, warning her that this child would bring her great sorrow. "I think I still make of it what I did at that time. It was a passing feeling that went over very quickly, like a shadow." Sue said in an interview with Colorado Public Radio. Klebold was soon diagnosed with pyloric stenosis, a condition in which the opening between the stomach and small intestines thickens, causing severe vomiting during the first few months of life.

Klebold's parents had met when they were both studying art at Ohio State University. After they both graduated, they married in 1971, with their first child, Byron, being born in 1978. Thomas had initially worked as a sculptor, but then moved over to engineering to be more financially stable. Sue had worked in assistance services with disabled children. Furthermore, Klebold's parents were pacifists and attended a Lutheran church with their children. Both Klebold and his older brother attended confirmation classes in accordance with the Lutheran tradition. As had been the case with his older brother, Klebold was named after a renowned poet, Dylan Thomas. Klebold attended Normandy Elementary School for first and second grade and then transferred to Governor's Ranch Elementary School where he was part of the Challenging High Intellectual Potential Students program for gifted children. According to reports, Klebold was exceptionally bright as a young child, although he appeared somewhat sheltered in elementary school. When he transitioned to Ken Caryl Middle School, he found it difficult. Fellow classmates recalled Klebold being painfully shy and quiet, often to an uncomfortable degree. Klebold's parents were unconcerned with the fact that Klebold found the changing of schools uneasy, as they assumed it was just regular behavior among young adolescents. At the family home, the Klebolds also observed some rituals in keeping with Klebold's maternal great-grandfather's Jewish heritage.

During his earlier school years, Klebold played baseball, soccer and T-ball. Klebold was in Cub Scouts with friend Brooks Brown, whom he was friends with since the first grade. Brown lived near the house Harris's parents had bought when they finally settled in Littleton, and rode the same bus as Harris. Shortly after, Klebold had met Harris and the pair quickly became best friends. Later, Harris introduced Klebold to his friend Nathan Dykeman, who also attended their middle school, and they all became a tight-knit group of friends.

Their Personalities

Both Harris and Klebold worked together as cooks at a Blackjack Pizza, a mile south from Columbine High School. Harris was eventually promoted to shift leader. He and his group of friends were interested in computers, and were enrolled in a bowling class.

Eric H. :

Some described Harris as charismatic, and others described him as nice and likable. Harris also often bragged about his ability to deceive others, once stating in a tape that he could make anyone believe anything. By his junior year, Harris was also known to be quick to anger, and threatened people with bombs. Classmates also related that Harris was fascinated by war, and wrote out violent fantasies about killing people he did not like.

Dylan K. :

Klebold was described by his peers and adults as painfully shy. Klebold often was fidgety whenever someone new talked to him, rarely opening up to people. Klebold was also exceptionally nervous in front of women. In the last year of his life, many noted a change in Klebold's behavior. Unlike before, Klebold became short-tempered, often prone to sudden outbursts of anger.

Dylan & Eric's Friendship

Much of the information on Harris and Klebold's friendship is unknown, on their interactions and conversations, aside from the Basement Tapes, of which only transcripts have been released, aside from a short audio clip recorded surreptitiously by a victim's father. The pair claimed they were going to make copies of the tapes to send to news stations, but never did so. Harris and Klebold met at Ken Caryl Middle School during their seventh grade year. Over time, they became increasingly close, hanging out by often going out bowling, carpooling and playing the video game Doom over a private server connected to their personal computers. By their junior year of high school, the boys were described as inseparable. Chad Laughlin, a close friend of Harris and Klebold, said that they always sat alone together at lunch and often kept to themselves.

A rumor eventually started that Harris and Klebold were gay and romantically involved, due to the time the pair spent together. It is unknown if they were aware of this rumor. Judy Brown believed Harris was more emotionally dependent on Klebold, who was more liked by the broader student population. In his journals, however, Klebold wrote that he felt that he was not accepted or loved by anyone. Due to these feelings, Klebold possibly sought validation from Harris. Klebold's mother believes Harris's rage, intermingled with Klebold's self-destructive personality, caused the boys to feed off of each other and enter in what eventually became an unhealthy friendship.

Columbine High School

At Columbine High School, Harris and Klebold were active in school play productions, operated video productions and became computer assistants, maintaining the school's computer server. According to early accounts of the shooting, they were very unpopular students and targets of bullying. While sources do support accounts of bullying specifically directed toward Harris and Klebold, accounts of them being outcasts have been reported to be false, since both of them had a close knit group of friends.

Harris and Klebold were initially reported to be members of a clique that was called the "Trenchcoat Mafia", despite later confirmation that the pair had no connection to the group and furthermore did not appear in the group's photo in Columbine High's 1998 yearbook. Harris's father erroneously stated that his son was "a member of what they call the Trenchcoat Mafia" in a 9-1-1 call he made on the day of the shooting. Klebold attended the high school prom three days before the shootings with a classmate named Robyn Anderson.

Harris and Klebold linked their personal computers on a network and played video games over the Internet. Harris created a set of levels for the game Doom, which later became known as the "Harris levels". The levels are downloadable over the internet through Doom WADs. Harris had a web presence under the handle "REB" (short for Rebel, a nod to the nickname of Columbine High's sports teams) and other online aliases, including "Rebldomakr", "Rebdoomer", and "Rebdomine". Klebold went by the names "VoDKa" and "VoDkA", after the alcoholic beverage. Harris had various websites that hosted Doom and Quake files, as well as team information for those with whom he gamed online. The sites openly espoused hatred for people in their neighborhood and the world in general. When the pair began experimenting with pipe bombs, they posted results of the explosions on the websites. The website was shut down by America Online after the shootings and was preserved for the FBI.

Crime Activity

On the night of January 30, 1998, Harris and Klebold broke into a locked van to steal computers and other electronic equipment. A short while after a Jefferson County sheriff's officer drove upon the two boys parked further down road at another park entrance and since the park area was closed by that time of night, the arresting deputy decided to further inspect them. The deputy announced his presence as one of the boys prepared to move the stolen goods into the trunk of the car. Harris shortly after admitted to theft after the deputy asked about where the equipment came from. They were later charged with mischief, breaking and entering, trespassing, and theft. They both left good impressions on juvenile officers, who offered to expunge their criminal records if they agreed to attend a diversionary program which included community service and psychiatric treatment. Harris was required to attend anger management classes where, again, he made a favorable impression. The boys' probation officer discharged them from the program a few months ahead of schedule for good behavior. Regarding Harris, it was remarked that he was "a very bright individual who is likely to succeed in life", while Klebold was said to be intelligent, but "needs to understand that hard work is part of fulfilling a dream."

Several months later on April 30, Harris handed over the first version of a letter of apology he wrote to the owner of the van, which he completed the next month. In the letter, Harris expressed regret about his actions; however, in one of his journal entries dated April 12, he wrote: "Isn't america supposed to be the land of the free? how come, If im free, I cant deprive some fucking dumbshit from his possessions If he leaves them sitting in the front seat of his fucking van in plain sight in the middle of fucking nowhere on a fri-fucking-day night? Natural selection. Fucker should be shot. [sic]".

Hitmen for Hire

When an economics class had Harris make an ad for a business, he and Klebold made a video called Hitmen for Hire on December 8, 1998, which was released in February 2004. It depicts them as part of the Trench Coat Mafia, a clique in the school who wore black trench coats, extorting money for protecting preps from bullies. They were apparently not a part of the Trench Coat Mafia, but were friends with some of its members. They wore black trench coats on the day of the massacre, and the video seemed a kind of dress rehearsal, showing them walking the halls of the school, and shooting bullies outside with fake guns.

Both also displayed themes of violence in their creative writing projects; of a Doom-based story written by Harris on January 17, 1999, Harris's teacher said: "Yours is a unique approach and your writing works in a gruesome way — good details and mood setting."

How they acquired Guns

Harris and Klebold were unable to legally purchase firearms due to their both being underage at the time. Klebold then enlisted Robyn Anderson, an 18-year-old Columbine student and old friend of Klebold's, to make a straw purchase of two shotguns and a Hi-Point carbine for the pair. In exchange for her cooperation with the investigation that followed the shootings, no charges were filed against Anderson. After illegally acquiring the weapons, Klebold sawed off his Savage 311-D 12-gauge double-barrel shotgun, shortening the overall length to approximately 23 inches (580 mm). Meanwhile, Harris's Savage-Springfield 12-gauge pump shotgun was sawn off to around 26 inches (660 mm).

The shooters also possessed a TEC-DC9 semi-automatic handgun, which had a long history. The manufacturer of the TEC-DC9 first sold it to Miami-based Navegar Incorporated. It was then sold to Zander's Sporting Goods in Baldwin, Illinois, in 1994. The gun was later sold to a firearms dealer, Larry Russell, in Thornton, Colorado. In violation of federal law, Russell failed to keep records of the sale, yet he determined that the purchaser of the gun was twenty-one years of age or older. Two men, Mark Manes and Philip Duran, were convicted of supplying weapons to the two.

The bombs used by the pair varied and were crudely made from carbon dioxide canisters, galvanized pipe, and metal propane tanks. The Co2 and pipe bombs were primed with matches placed at one end end their fuses. Both had striker tips on their sleeves. When they rubbed against the bomb, the match head lit the fuse. The weekend before the shootings, Harris and Klebold had purchased propane tanks and other supplies from a hardware store for a few hundred dollars. Several residents of the area claimed to have heard glass breaking and buzzing sounds from the Harris family's garage, which later was concluded to indicate they were constructing pipe bombs.

More complex bombs, such as the one that detonated on the corner of South Wadsworth Boulevard and Ken Caryl Avenue, had timers. The two largest bombs built were found in the school cafeteria and were made from small propane tanks. Only one of these bombs went off, only partially detonating. It was estimated that if any of the bombs placed in the cafeteria had detonated properly, the blast could have caused extensive structural damage to the school and would have resulted in hundreds of casualties.

The Massacre

Eric Harris (Left), Dylan Klebold (right)

On April 20, 1999, just weeks before Harris and Klebold were both due to graduate, Brooks Brown, who was smoking a cigarette outside during lunch break, saw Harris arrive at school. Brown had severed his friendship with Harris a year earlier after Harris had thrown a chunk of ice at his car windshield. Brown reconciled with Harris just prior to the shooting. Brown approached Harris near his car and scolded him for skipping his morning classes, because Harris was always serious about schoolwork and being on time. Harris replied, "It doesn't matter anymore." Harris followed up a few seconds later, "Brooks, I like you now. Get out of here. Go home." Brown, who felt uneasy, quickly left the school grounds. At 11:19 am, he heard the first gunshots after he had walked some distance away from the school, and informed the police via a neighbor's cell phone.

By that time, Klebold had already arrived at the school in a separate car, and the two boys left two duffel bags, each containing a 20-pound propane bomb, inside the cafeteria. Their original plans indicated that when these bombs detonated, Harris and Klebold would be waiting at their cars and would shoot, stab and throw bombs at survivors of the initial explosion as they ran out of the school. At noon, this would be followed by bombs set up in their personal cars detonating, killing first responders and others on scene. When these devices failed to detonate, Harris and Klebold resorted to gunning down their classmates and teachers. It was the deadliest high school shooting in U.S history until it was surpassed by the Stoneman Douglas High School shooting committed by Nikolas Cruz on February 14, 2018. Harris was responsible for eight of the thirteen confirmed deaths (Rachel Scott, Daniel Rohrbough, teacher Dave Sanders, Steve Curnow, Cassie Bernall, Isaiah Shoels, Kelly Fleming, and Daniel Mauser), while Klebold was responsible for the remaining five (Kyle Velasquez, Matthew Kechter, Lauren Townsend, John Tomlin, and Corey DePooter). There were 24 injured (21 of them by the shooters), most in critical condition.

Their Suicides (R.I.P, me fr.)

At 12:02 pm, Harris and Klebold returned to the library. Of the 56 library hostages, 34 remained unharmed, all of whom escaped after Harris and Klebold left the library initially. Investigators later found that Harris and Klebold had enough ammunition to have killed them all. This was 20 minutes after their lethal shooting spree had ended, leaving 12 students dead, one teacher dying, and another 24 students and staff injured. Ten of their victims had been killed in the library. It is believed they came back to the library to watch their car bombs detonate, which had been set up to explode at noon. This did not happen, as the aforementioned bombs failed. Harris and Klebold went to the west windows and opened fire on the police outside. No one was injured in the exchange. Between three and six minutes later, they walked to the bookshelves near a table where Patrick Ireland lay badly wounded and coming in and out of consciousness. Student Lisa Kreutz, injured in the earlier library attack, was also in the room, unable to move.

By 12:08 pm, Harris and Klebold had killed themselves. In a subsequent interview, Kreutz recalled hearing a comment such as, "You in the library", around this time. Harris sat down with his back to a bookshelf and fired his shotgun through the roof of his mouth; Klebold went down on his knees and shot himself in the left temple with his TEC-9. An article by The Rocky Mountain News stated that Patti Nielson overheard them shout "One! Two! Three!" in unison, just before a loud boom. Nielson said that she had never spoken with either of the writers of the article, and evidence suggests otherwise. Just before shooting himself, Klebold lit a Molotov cocktail on a nearby table, underneath which Ireland was lying, which caused the tabletop to momentarily catch fire. Underneath the scorched film of material was a piece of Harris's brain matter, suggesting Harris had shot himself by this point.

The End ♡ By Danielle, hope this is information that can be useful !!

#school shooters #tcc columbine #teeceecee #tccblr #true cringe community #columbine edit #columbine 1999 #tc community #tcc tumblr #tcc fandom #unsolved #dylan columbine #columbine massacre #columbine school shooting #eric columbine #eric and dylan #rachel joy scott

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theturtlelovers · 9 months ago

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のﾚﾘﾶｱﾉᄃ 丂乇ﾒ

Pairing: Leo/fem!Reader Rating: Explicit Contents: Leo gets injured during patrol and he gets in the mood for some love making time Warnings: 18+, mdni, brief mention of blood from a wound, hickeys, creampies, unprotected p in v (wrap it up peeps) Wordcount: 4,139 Sentence Prompt: # 14 + 67

𝕊𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 ℙ𝕣𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕥𝕤

Notes: Wow, this one actually took quite some time to finish, and I'm surprised by the word count. I believe this might be the post with the highest word count I have so far!

He didn't intend to get injured; it was purely accidental, or at least that's what Leo assured you. You had no reason to doubt him, aware that he prided himself on emerging from skirmishes unscathed. When you've inquired before, he likened the sensation of a human punch to a light slap. His tough, scaled skin rendered him relatively impervious to the average human's blows, which were what he typically faced on patrols during robberies, inmate escapes, and the like.

This time, the incident involved a random drunk man who had been ejected from a bar. The turtles happened to be passing by when they noticed the bar owner, looking quite irritated, forcibly escorting the inebriated individual outside. Sensing potential trouble as he observed the man stagger away, Leo dispatched Donnie and Raph to carry on with their patrol while he and Mikey hung back to ensure the drunk didn't cause any further disturbances.

Unfortunately, the drunk man did cause trouble, picking a fight with a teenager who accidentally bumped into him. Observing the youth's attire, Leo guessed aloud that the kid was likely on his way home from a late basketball game, given the sport's uniform he was wearing.

As was their nature, Leo and Mikey sprang into action without hesitation. The teenager took the opportunity to flee during the scuffle, which was for the best since he didn't need to be involved in the first place. Mikey initiated his peace-making efforts, his good-hearted nature leading him to let down his guard to appear friendlier. However, approachable as a mutant turtle might be, he was still an unusual sight for a drunk man grappling with the fear he was hallucinating. Blinded by alcohol-fueled rage, the man suddenly drew a Glock from his pants and pointed it at Mikey.

Fear and panic were emotions Leo found unfamiliar and unsettling. When moment April found them—though it was more of a rediscovery, considering she had known them prior to their mutation—he was primarily concerned with how she would react with the information of their existence, knowing she posed no physical threat to them. He hadn’t genuinely felt them until the Foot Clan blasted a hole in their sewer home, Shredder nearly beat their father to death, and he and the two youngest were captured like animals. Raph was missing, and in the midst of his concern for his siblings, Leo had little capacity to consider his whereabouts. Luckily, that situation was settled with Shredder's defeat and Sacks' arrest.

That heightened sense of awareness, once sparked, never truly faded for Leo. The persistent fear that someone could tear his family apart lingered constantly in the back of his mind. Your support during their moments of respite was invaluable; you had a gift for easing his anxieties, reassuring him of his strengths and the progress his brothers were making in self-defense. And even though you seldom mentioned it, understanding his mixed feelings on the matter, you once suggested that his brothers might eventually collaborate with the police force individually, rather than always as a team.

However, when Leo saw the gun aimed at Mikey, his youngest and sweetest brother, those feelings of fear and panic surged anew, compelling him to act instinctively. He positioned himself in front of Mikey, turning to shield them both with his shell. The sight of a second towering turtle startled the inebriated man into a frenzy, and in his alarm, he fired the Glock.

Mikey remained unharmed, but the bullet found its mark in Leo's thigh.

Just as quickly the situation happened, the man was apprehended and placed into police custody.

Ironically, Leo didn't even notice he'd been injured until Donnie brought it to his attention back at their lair. The wound appeared more severe than it actually was; it hadn't struck any vital arteries or tendons. Yet, as a surface wound, it bled profusely, likely exacerbated by adrenaline and his continued movement. Donnie easily fished out the bullet and stitched up the wound.

As Leo sat on the couch, he silently brooded, carefully masking his emotions while watching Raph and Mikey play video games. It was clear to anyone that Mikey felt guilty about the incident. Leo appreciated that Mikey was taking responsibility, acknowledging that his passive approach had escalated the situation, and offering a heartfelt apology. Despite this, a sting remained—not from the physical pain of the injury, which was linked to Mikey's inaction, but from the realization that Mikey was maturing. They were all growing up and evolving, a fact that brought both pride and a poignant sense of change.

Over the years, Raph had mellowed significantly. His anger became more focused during fights rather than exploding unpredictably like a tank's heat round. He even earned the trust to lead the team on some nights when the intensity was manageable. Leo vividly recalled the first time he challenged Raph to take the lead, fed up with his constant bickering. Raph, initially frozen with terror, was surprisingly humbled when the team returned more frazzled than when they had left. Although Splinter scolded Leo for his approach, there was a certain satisfaction in having Raph finally respect his leadership. Following the Kraang incident, Leo gradually began to relax, allowing Raph to take charge more frequently, initially with guidance. Over time, Leo found he needed to offer fewer and fewer pointers.

Donnie was still somewhat of a hermit, a trait that likely wouldn't change, which wasn't necessarily bad given his introverted nature. However, he was gradually coming out of his shell, engaging more with the world beyond his screens. Leo particularly appreciated Donnie's growing desire to improve his combat skills, as it provided a chance for the two brothers to spend one-on-one time together. Yet, as Donnie's skills sharpened, Leo found it increasingly challenging to best him in sparring matches. Even Raph, the physically strongest of them, was starting to struggle against Donnie.

Mikey was like experiencing whiplash with his dramatic transformations as he aged. The youngest was still brimming with energy, his jokes flowing as freely as candy from a pocket. Remarkably, he began taking accountability for his actions, cleaning up after his mistakes, and willingly taking on responsibilities without shirking them. However, Mikey's transition wasn't quiet. He often stonewalled during discussions about accountability and responsibility. His mood swings were abrupt, shifting from calm and content to inexplicably irritable when others presumed ignorance on his part. His bouts of anger, rivaling both Leo's and Raph’s combined, occasionally alarmed everyone, given that Mikey's default had always been to diffuse tension with humor. But almost as if it never happened, Mikey's emotional and mental state eventually stabilized into a more mature version of himself.

Everyone briefly wondered if Mikey was experiencing trauma, but the fact that he seemed more fulfilled with life after the tumultuous period reassured them and dispelled those concerns.

Then there was Leonardo, the leader in blue, currently wrestling with the idea that his brothers might no longer need him to look after their needs. He would always keep an eye on them, as neglecting to do so would contradict his nature as the eldest brother. However, the incident with the purple ooze, which caused a rift in his family, had truly opened his eyes. He never wanted to face your wrath again, having been viciously reminded that just because he wasn't used to the idea of his brothers possibly leaving to build their own lives—whether they remained turtles or mutated into humans—he needed to accept that they might not need him as much.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sudden warmth of your soft touch on his shoulders. How you managed to sneak up on him at times was beyond him. "Are you doing okay? Donnie told me what happened during patrol." Leo's insides melted as he looked into the gentle eyes you were giving him.

He nodded with a small smile, taking your hand in his and placing a chaste kiss on your knuckles. "I'll be fine. I'll be back to normal before you know it." The corner of your lips lifted into a smile. So pretty.

Mikey spun around. "Oh hey, (Y/n)! When did you get here?" Raph only turned his head to look.

"Not too long ago." Your focus turned on them. "Heard you ran into a bit of trouble."

The youngest grimaced at the reminder but managed to maintain a lopsided grin. "Yeah, it was kind of my fault. But hey! We kicked their butts before they could even say 'Pizza Hut'!"

Raph rolled his eyes. "There was no way he was thinking of pizza in that moment, you doofus."

"Okay, but I was! I was hungry!"

You perched on the arm of the chair where Leo was sitting, gently leaning against his side as you watched the two exchange playful banter and dive back into their video game. Leo quickly made you comfortable, wrapping his arm around your waist and drawing you closer against him.

This had become what he looked forward to at the end of each day: returning to you, waiting with open arms and a sweet smile. You were his constant. His slice of peace. Although the years and the pressures of their lives had subtly shaped your personality, at your core, you remained the same person he had first met. His thumb gently traced the curve of your hip as he rested his head against you, quietly inhaling deeply to savor your scent. If you noticed, you didn't mention it.

As the day drew to a close, Leo finally had you all to himself in his room. He didn't mind sharing your company with his family, as it always comforted him to know how well you got along with them.

You moved around his room with such ease, changing into pajamas you had stashed in one of his dressers. It pleased him every time he thought about how pieces of you were scattered throughout his space. A hairbrush, aligned neatly alongside some hair products, sat on the very dresser you were rummaging through. A few photos of the two of you, and some with everyone else, adorned the cement walls. You had even added string lights, choosing blue because they reminded you of Leo, and you just had to get them for him.

Without a second thought, he pressed himself against your partially clad back, where you were still wearing a bralette. You let out a soft sound of surprise when he placed a kiss on your shoulder.

"Leo," you warned, though there was no real malice in your voice.

"Hmm?" He feigned innocence, continuing to plant kisses up the side of your neck.

"What do you think you're doing? You're injured," you remarked, slowly turning around to face him. He let you turn, choosing instead to press his lips to the top of your head.

His mouth quirked up in a half-smile. "Tis but a scratch." That got a chuckle out of you.

“I’m serious, Leo. You really should be sitting down and resting,” you insisted, gently pushing him back toward his bed. While you both knew you couldn’t physically move Leo if he resisted, as he was a force of nature, he always allowed you to guide him where you wanted him to be.

Leo’s hands continued to roam freely over your body, tracing every dip and curve of your shape. Each contour was familiar to him, yet he remained tempted to explore it anew, regardless of how long you had been together. You followed his lead, your fingers tracing over his green scaled skin.

A brief, comfortable silence fell between you, unforced and easy. No words were necessary.

The tip of your nail lightly trailed over the raised scars lining his arms. "If I could, I would kiss away all of your scars." Your expression remained neutral as you observed him, but the waver in your voice betrayed your emotions. You empathized deeply with him, feeling the pain he must have endured as if it were your own.

There you go again, disarming him completely. In the past, he might have found this alarming, perhaps even considering you a threat to the defenses he'd built around his mind. But now, the idea of pushing you away was unimaginable. Your mind, body, and soul were too tantalizing and addictive for him to ever consider distancing himself.

Leo was at a loss for words as a small flush rose to his cheeks. Although he had never really viewed the scars he'd earned over the years as anything negative, it deeply touched him that you wished he had never had to endure the pain that caused them in the first place.

Since he couldn't find the words to express his feelings, Leo simply offered you a sweet smile and pressed his lips against yours. You sighed contently, naturally melting into his touch. The way your movements effortlessly synchronized always filled him with a sense of awe and satisfaction that no one else could provide.

The kiss deepened gradually, almost of its own accord, his tongue slipping between your plush lips in a practiced dance. His large hands encircled your waist, pulling you closer, your body significantly warmer than his turtle form could ever become.

With effortless strength, his hands moved to the underside of your thighs, lifting you up and gently setting you down on the bed beneath him. His breath was already heavy, despite having barely begun.

You squeaked in surprise, "Leo, you're going to hurt yourself." Your concern for him always came across as endearing.

"It’s sex, not an Olympic sport. I promise I can handle it," he chuckled, his voice rich with amusement. His mouth eagerly moved to the exposed skin of your chest, sucking gently. You let out a soft sigh, your eyelashes fluttering in response.

"Fine," you pouted cutely. "Just let me know if things start to get too much, okay?"

"Always." He murmurs against your skin.

Leo's fingers meticulously explored, slowly removing the remaining clothes you hadn't yet taken off. His lips seemed to move with a will of their own, seeking every curve and crevice to kiss and suckle on, leaving marks that were carefully placed where they wouldn't be visible to the outside world.

After what seemed like an eternity to you, Leo finally removed your bottoms, and his hands took their time exploring your most intimate area. You bit your bottom lip in anticipation, watching intently as Leo's movements brought his face closer to the space between your thighs.

His tongue eagerly reached out, tracing a long, wet line along your core. If his eyes had been open, you might have seen them roll back in sheer pleasure. You tasted musky and sweet, a flavor he yearned to savor more deeply. Firmly holding your thighs to prevent you from closing them, he suckled on the sensitive bundle of nerves that quivered with need. You let out a moan, your muscles tensing beneath him. As he continued, one of his hands gently caressed your breast, kneading the soft tissue and pinching your nipple. Unnoticed by him, his own arousal was evident, tightly confined within his shorts, but he had no intention of attending to himself just yet—you were his focus, far more important in this moment.

The sounds you made were music to his ears. He groaned deeply, a resonant churring emanating from his chest, as his hips pressed desperately into the mattress. Your hands, seeking something to grasp, found his arms draped over your torso and thighs, holding onto them tightly.

"Fuck, don't stop..." you whined, your voice a beautiful plea. It thrilled him to his core knowing he was succeeding in pleasing you so thoroughly.

Leo remained steadfast in guiding you to the precipice of ecstasy, unafraid of the fall, for he would be there to catch you, as he always had. His tongue shifted its focus to your clit, allowing him to slide his thick finger into your sopping depths. When he curled his finger in that perfect way he knew you loved, it sent you writhing, a choked moan escaping your lips.

This was a kind of torture he relished, with spikes of intense need coursing through his body as he ground his pelvis into the soft blankets spread across the bed, now creased and bunched from your combined movements. Leo felt no shame as he groaned against your cunt, having long moved past any reservations in your shared sexual exploits.

Leo could tell you were nearing the edge as your thighs began to twitch more erratically under his grip, and your moans grew louder and came in shorter bursts. Somehow, his efforts intensified, driven by the desire to bring you to climax around his finger.

"Oh, God! I'm gonna cum!" Your feet kicked slightly, a reaction that might have made Leo chuckle if he hadn't been so intently focused, his attention fully claimed by the task between your legs.

A sharp suck on your clit coupled with a final, deliberate curl of his finger sent you into a state of bliss, your voice stammering out his name as a flush spread across your skin. As you shuddered beautifully beneath him, Leo marveled at his fortune, wondering what he had done to deserve such a blessing as you. His tongue enthusiastically lapped at the juices pooling from your core, keenly aware of how your inner walls clenched around his tongue each time he dipped it inside you.

Once you began to whimper, he finally pulled away, his lips and chin glistening with your essence. Seeing him, usually so composed, in such a disheveled state was shockingly obscene. You were certain Leo would be mortified if anyone saw him like this—flushed with arousal and messy from your release.

The sight left you more turned on than ever before.

"Lee," you called out, but he didn't respond, busy licking your slick from his lips and staring at your pussy with a dazed expression. "Leo." This time, he looked up, and the intense heat in his eyes sent goosebumps spreading across your arms. "Baby, I need you inside me, please."

Your plea sounded like the answer to every prayer he had ever uttered. In his haste to remove his shorts and position himself between your legs once more, a searing pain suddenly shot through his leg, halting his frantic movements.

He hissed, uttering a few 'ow's, and froze in place while gripping your knees to keep them steady. Your eyes widened with concern as you looked up at him.

"Are you okay?" You asked.

"Shit, yeah. Just give me a moment. I got a little ahead of myself there," Leo admitted. He took a few deep breaths, waiting for the pain to subside.

Despite the inconvenience of the gunshot wound, it fortunately didn't dampen the mood. Especially for Leo, since you were so patient beneath him, waiting for him to recover. However, you couldn't help but smirk at him.

You must have noticed him questioning the expression on your face. "I told you, you were going to hurt yourself," you said with a knowing look.

"Shut up," he huffed, his voice tinged with embarrassment. You giggled and leaned up to press a kiss to his lips, tasting yourself on them.

The kiss served as a welcome distraction, helping him to ignore the flare-up of pain from his injury. He adjusted himself carefully, positioning the leg that would normally have pressed onto the injured one, onto his shoulder instead to keep you comfortable.

You quickly took his throbbing member in your hand, running the head along your soaked folds. Both of you moaned softly as the tip grazed the nerves that Leo had tenderly swollen with his mouth.

After a moment, you guided him inside you, and he sighed in relief as he felt your warm, wet walls envelop his cock. This sensation was familiar yet something Leo could never fully acclimate to, no matter how many times you welcomed him. You squeezed your eyes shut and let your head fall back with a soft whimper, feeling completely filled by him and still somewhat sensitive from your previous orgasm.

It was as if you encompassed Leo's entire sensory system. He could smell you, feel you, hear you—the aroma of your earlier climax permeating the room with the scent of sex. The way your inner walls fluttered around him, despite being nearly filled to the brink, was intoxicating. And the soft pants you took in an attempt to calm yourself only served to excite him further, making him even harder than before. Again, he wondered: What had he done to deserve you?

"Can I move?" Leo asked, aware that although you handled him wonderfully, he could still be a lot to adjust to, regardless of your experience with him.

You nodded and whimpered, "Yes, Lee, please..."

"Since you asked so nicely," Leo murmured, biting his lower lip to maintain some semblance of control over his voice. He began to slowly pull out, leaving just the tip inside, before pushing back in deeply.

The gentle pace was good initially, warming both of you up and allowing time to adjust to being so intimately connected. However, as Leo's desires grew more potent, it seemed you were also feeling the same urge for more. The way your brows began to knit together was a clear indication that you, too, were ready for him to intensify the rhythm.

Leo leaned down, adjusting the leg on his shoulder so it rested in the crook of his arm, allowing him to press his chest against yours to feel the intense heat radiating from you, a sensation he reveled in. His thrusts became sharper and quicker, eliciting gasps from your lips. The sweat accumulating on your skin deliciously rubbed against his plastron.

Despite the slight change in position reawakening the pain from his gunshot wound, Leo was too caught up in the addictive pleasure you provided to let it bother him significantly. The discomfort wasn't enough to stop him from continuing to drive himself between your legs, savoring everything you willingly offered to him alone.

With his face now close to yours, he captured your lips in a passionate kiss, both to swallow your moans and to muffle his own sounds of gratification. Your tongues sloppily intertwined, failing to effectively silence your noises, but neither of you cared, too absorbed in each other's pleasure to give it any thought.

Although your whimpers were smothered by the kiss, Leo could still hear them escalating in pitch. You were close to the edge again, and he would have the privilege of feeling you come undone around him.

Reluctantly breaking the kiss, Leo panted, "Are you going to cum around me?" His breath was heavy, tinged with both desire and anticipation.

His hand slipped down to rub your clit, eliciting a whine from you as your head lolled back, exposing your neck. Seizing the opportunity, Leo gently nipped at the tender flesh there.

"Oh fuck! Don't stop, please!" you cried out, gripping his biceps for support as Leo drove you over the edge.

Leo groaned loudly into the curve of your neck as he felt your insides clench around him, the sensation both painfully intense and blissfully satisfying. It was exactly what he needed to push him over the edge, leading him to release inside your welcoming embrace. He didn't get a chance to warn you, but he knew you wouldn't have minded anyway.

You gently guided Leo by the chin to place one more kiss on his kiss-swollen lips. He hummed gratefully, his eyelids fluttering shut to fully enjoy the moment.

After a few moments of heavy breathing and basking in the afterglow, Leo carefully pulled away, prompting a brief whine from you at the loss of his closeness. He walked over to one of the many organized shelves in his room, where he kept stacks of rags. Ready to return to your side and envelope himself in the warmth you brought to his bed, he didn't linger long. He gently used a rag on you first, tenderly cleaning away any traces of your intimate moments together before he considered cleaning himself.

You peered up at him with a soft smile, your eyes tracking his movements. A grin spread across your lips when he finally finished, and you stretched your arms out, inviting him to return to your side.

He returned your smile, charmed by your cuteness, as he slid both of you under the duvet's covers. You snuggled up against his plastron, and Leo, feeling content, kissed your hairline and let out a satisfied sigh.

"You still doing okay, champ?" you asked, your voice lifting slightly with concern.

"Never better."

Tagging: @whygz, @coulrofilia-sexuell, @southernblossoms,, @peachesdabunny

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emryses · 7 months ago

Text

TIMESTAMP: April 10, 1989

written for @steddiemicrofic july prompt: one | 1,111 words | rated: M

One thousand, one hundred, eleven and one days; but it only took Eddie the one to fall in love.

It might have happened on the first day, with Eddie broken and eaten, Dustin crying over him, all tears and snot; and if it hadn't been for all of the internal and external bleeding Eddie might have told him to cut the crap. But then, there was Steve, like a real life G.I. Joe dropping in to save the day, sweeping Eddie up into his arms and carrying him out of literal, goddamn, freaking monster hell.

Eddie blinked up lazily at him, going in and out of consciousness, and though the world around him was blurry Steve was in hyper focus. The slope of his jaw as it met the soft curve of his ear. Then followed it up to his temple, where his hair was somehow still perfectly sculpted, if not the tiniest bit messy and filled with monster shit. That was still hot, though. Yeah, Steve still looked good. It was as if he was an actual ready-made example of every wet dream Eddie ever had and probably would ever have, and now he was being cradled by said man like it didn't even phase him. Eddie knew he was scrawny, but damn, did Steve even break a sweat? Fuck, dude.

"What the fuck?" Eddie said, before he passed out for real.

It might have been a few days later, when he woke up in the hospital, machines beeping and way too many things sticking out of his arms for his liking. Wayne was there, because of course Wayne was there. But then coming into focus in the background, just as Eddie was starting to remember all the crazy bullshit that had gone on for the past week, there was Steve Harrington. Fresh and clean, wearing a polo which stretched deliciously across his chest and sporting a bruised ring around his neck. He sat, magazine in hand and knee crossed over the other. He looked up at Eddie, and smiled. It really might have been then, it might have been that smile that did Eddie in. Something private, something just for him.

“What the fuck?” Eddie whispered, before the nurse was called in.

It could have been any one of the days he spent with Steve after that. Like when they moved with Robin up to Chicago and lived in that shit-hole two bedroom apartment. He and Steve had shared a room, what a great idea that had been—a statement which was laden with sarcasm, until it wasn’t. Because Eddie started getting his shit rocked by one Steve Harrington on the reg, and then it seriously had been a good idea that they shared a bedroom, thank fucking Christ.

It definitely could have been the good dicking that did it for Eddie, the bruises on his hips in the shape of Steve’s thumbs that never quite faded, the taste of him on Eddie’s tongue. With Steve over top of him, under him, his hair sweaty and plastered against his forehead, looking down at Eddie like he was the only one.

“What the fuck?” Eddie breathed out, as Steve plopped down on the bed beside him, a shit eating grin on his face.

Or the day Steve stuck close to him, hands awkwardly wrung together and he asked Eddie, “Dude, is this like, for real? You and me?”

“We share a sock drawer,” Eddie replied, as if that answered Steve’s question, because in a way, it did. You know?

Or maybe it was one of those nights where they went out. The music blaring, lights dancing around them, and Steve was wearing a teeny tiny shirt. Every man, woman and person in the club making eyes at him, and Eddie couldn’t even be jealous, because, like, yeah, fucking look at him. But even if he was, even if he could have gotten himself to feel the bite of that little green monster, he wouldn’t have, because Steve only looked at him. Steve only danced with him, it was his hand that was low on Eddie’s back, slipping their palms together, pulling him along, to and fro, between the bar and the bathroom and the dance floor. It was Steve’s tongue on Eddie’s neck, licking sweat and salt from his skin. It was Steve, who looked at him, smiled at him, shared a motherfucking sock drawer with him, hell yeah, dude. It was Steve bringing him home, to that shitty apartment. Sure, it could have been that night, or any night after that, with Eddie so sure and so confident that Steve was his man, and Eddie was his.

Or the time he got chicken pox when he was twenty-one and Steve made him homemade chicken noodle soup. Or when he set up a new campaign, and they needed someone to step in for Mike and Steve said, oh, he’d do it. No problem about it. Or when they went home to Wayne's for Thanksgiving, and Steve made that pie. Or when Eddie threw Steve that birthday party and invited all their friends. Steve pulled him aside, that smile on his face, kissed him and said, “Thank you.” It could have been any of those days, or any of the days after that.

Or maybe, it was one thousand, one hundred, eleven and one days later. They had finally moved out of that apartment and into something they could make their own. A one bedroom, one bathroom. Small, but they were used to the cramped space. They had one sock drawer between them, still, and sometimes it felt like they were one heart beating.

They were laid out on their brand new mattress, half-haphazardly covered in their blankets, and plopped in the middle of the living room floor. They were surrounded by all their unpacked boxes, and to Eddie it felt akin to a castle, their own personal fortress and boy had they just christened it. They laid, tangled up in each other, Eddie had his cheek pressed against Steve's chest, a hand playing gently with the smattering of Steve's chest hair. He moved, and pressed a kiss there, next to his nipple, and Steve hummed, content, king of his fucking castle.

"So," Eddie breathed. "What do you think? Is this the one?"

Steve looked at him like he was insane, and said, bitchy as ever, “Uh. Yeah, it better be, Eddie. We got the keys. And, like, fucked already."

“Nah,” Eddie said. “I'm not just talking about the place, I'm talking about—you. Me. Us. Is this the one?"

Steve smiled, something just for Eddie. “Yeah, baby,” he said. “You’re the one.”

#stranger things #steddie #steddie microfic #steddiemicrofic #emwrites #me taking the 1111 and running w it bc i'm a yapper at heart

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aprilleoblog · 1 year ago

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All the prompts were created by @wingstobetorn <3

Welcome! 💙💛

This event is for anything and everything April and Leo, platonic or romantic, your choice! Below are lists of the prompts as well as the rules for participation.

Prompts!

First Meeting / First Kiss

Sports / Games

Rescue / Comfort

Night / Ghost Hunting

Parallels / Lyrics

Aged up / Lyrics

Good Future / Bad Future

Rules!

You're free to use any or all of the prompts. You're free to use both platonic or romantic, but we ask that it'll be Leonardo and April centric, other characters are welcome. You can use any versions of the turtles, from the movies, comics, 2012, 2018 and so on.

You also aren't restricted by the number of prompts you want to include or how you choose to include them. Your allowed to pick and chose which days you feel like participating in. But please abide by the rules, this event is SFW so we please ask you not to include any NSFW. Again if you have any questions please message us. Please use common sense and no hate allowed towards any of the members.

If you want your fics, art, playlists, edits, etc to be reblogged, make sure to tag #A&Lweek2024 in the first five tags so that we can see it!

There's no need to sign up, and any form of fanwork is welcome, just simply make sure to use warnings properly when posting on AO3 and post to the collection when event dates come.

Ao3 collection —-> https://archiveofourown.org/collections/AprilnardoWeek2024

When posting make sure to tag accordingly, be respectful, and just have fun with it! We can't wait to see what you make 💙💛

#A&Lweek2024 #tmnt #hamato leonardo #april o'neil #rottmnt fanart

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stryfewoodweek · 1 year ago

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Stryfewood Week April 1st - April 7th 2024

I'm a little late but we're finally in business! Prompt list in text below the cut. Get creating! (thanks to @/hashtagcaneven for making the prompt graphic!)

Day One: car/accidental meeting / funeral home AU / "reckless driving" by lizzy mcalpine Day Two: catch/hold/save / mech AU / "i don't like who i was then" by the wonder years Day Three: eat/food / fantasy AU / "rain" by sleep token Day Four: fears / historical AU / "devil's backbone" by the civil wars Day Five: stolen moments/secrets/code / cowboy AU / "moments before the storm" by poets of the fall Day Six: memorial/cigarettes / pirate AU / "always alright" by alabama shakes Day Seven: free day / sports AU / "my boy builds coffins" by florence and the machine

#stryfewood #merylwood #stryfewoodweek #meryl stryfe #nicholas d. wolfwood #nicholas d wolfwood

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tokkiheart · 1 month ago

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2025 Year of Fluff

I got inspired to make this after a friend shared with me the 2023 Year of Whump made by @soheavyaburden and I wanted to make something like it, but for individuals like me who prefer fluff and can’t (for one reason or another) do a month long challenge. I’ve had this sitting in drafts for 2 years and I’m finally going to publish it this year.

This is my first time ever doing something like this, but I did my best to have a nice mix of prompts that can work for romantic fluff, platonic fluff, family fluff, etc. so that no matter what kind of fluff you want to do, there’s prompts for you!

I also themed some weeks around big holidays for those who celebrate them while keeping the prompts vague or open to interpretation and aren’t really holiday specific. For example, the week of Easter there’s “scavenger hunt” and the week of Christmas there’s “gift exchange” and “home for the holidays.”

For any prompts where there’s an “X” in it, just substitute the X out for whatever word you want that fits in the context of the prompt. Any prompts marked with “(any)” really means any interpretation of the word/prompt. For example: “Game Day (any)” can be anything from actual sports to video games, board games, card games, RPGs, etc.

You can choose to do this event monthly, weekly, or wild card and change up which you do! Wild Card is basically doing whatever prompt strikes your fancy from any month/week!

This is completely at your leisure! No stress, no pressure, just fun and fluff! Feel free to mix & match prompts or pair with other challenges to your heart’s desire (the only exception is whump, hurt/comfort is fine but there needs to be comfort).

This is open to all fandoms, relationships, forms of media creation (except AI), etc.!

I don’t have a place on AO3 you can submit to, but if someone else wants to make one, contact me and I’ll add the link in this post!

Anyway, without further ado, here are the prompts!

2025 Year of Fluff Prompts

January 1: New Year’s Resolutions/Trying New Things Together/New Year’s Kiss/“This is all so new to me”

January 5: Reassurances/Moral Support/Promises Made, Promises Kept/Massages/“Guess who?”

January 12: Emotional Support/Holding Hands In Pockets/Warm Bubble Bath/Blankets/“I’ve got your back”

January 19: Walk In The Park/Handwritten Notes/Piggyback Rides/First Kiss/“This made me think of you”

January 26: Stargazing/Pillow Fort or Blanket Fort/Candles, Lanterns, Fairy Lights/Compliments & Praise/“You too?”

February 2: Trust/First ‘I Love You’/Blushing/Walking Together/“Let me get that for you”

February 9: Sweet Treat/Valentine’s Day/Love Letters/Love Language/“Shut up and kiss me”

February 16: Love Confessions/Throwing Coins Into A Wishing Well Or Fountain/Weekend Trip/Sleepover/“Show me”

February 23: Bridal Carry/Soothing Touch/Cuddles/Sweet Notes or Texts/Acts of Devotion/“Can I help?”

March 2: Drive-In Theater/Helping With Chores/Sympathetic Ear/Caught In The Rain/“Make a wish”

March 9: Kiss For Good Luck/Tokens of Affection/Sweet Dreams/Wish Granting (or Wish Fulfillment)/“You’re in luck”

March 16: Spring Cleaning/Flower Crowns/Snuggles/Picnic/“You still have this?”

March 23: BBQ/Bouquets/Boating Day Trip/Besotted/“Be mine?”

March 30: Being Silly/Pleasant Surprise/Supporting Silly Quirks or Hobbies/Happy Accidents/“Is this a dream?”

April 6: Nose Kiss or Nose Rub/Parallel Play or Work/Scavenger Hunt/Rainy Day In/“You know you’re really adorable when you…”

April 13: Dandelion Wishes/Sharing Food/Photoshoot/Bookstore/“Oh no, you’re a morning person!”

April 20: Stolen Kisses or Stolen Moments Together/Amusement Park/Meaningful Gift/Uniquely You/“Wanna try?”

April 27: Winning A Plushie Or Prize For The Other/Spooning/Mutual Pining/Shopping Together/“Guess what… I love you”

May 4: Bedtime Stories/Domestic Intimacy/Long Conversations/Putting Flowers In Their Hair/“Could you stay just a little longer?”

May 11: Wearing Or Stealing Each Other’s Clothes/Romantic Dinner/Long Walks/Established ‘I Love You’/“May I have this dance?”

May 18: Heart-to-Heart/Napping or Falling Asleep Together/Adopting A Pet Or Plant/Holding Hands/“Could you stay on the line? I want to fall asleep to your voice”

May 25: Family Time/Game Day (any)/Home Cooked Meal/Surprise Visit/“I’m with you”

June 1: Passing The Time Together/Parade/Making Or Getting The Other’s Favorite Food/Nature Walk/“I’m so proud of you”

June 8: Breakfast In Bed/Fireworks/Pet Names/Rainbows and Butterflies/“Oh no! You’re a night owl!”

June 15: Bearhugs/Lifting Them Up/Pillow Fight/Ruffling Hair/“Did you bring snacks?”

June 22: Accidents Don’t Just Happen Accidentally/Tugging At The Other’s Clothes To Keep Them Close/Listening/Photo Booth Antics/“Want a taste?”

June 29: Flirting/Running Into The Other’s Arms/Summer Vacation/Secret Hideout/“Sorry, I got lost in your eyes”

July 6: Heart Eyes/Running Fingers Through The Other’s Hair/Forehead Touches/Road Trip/“Do you like it?”

July 13: Day At The Beach/Sharing Ice Cream/Swimming Pool Or Hot Tub/Date Night/“I don’t need X to have a good time, I just need you”

July 20: Truth Or Dare Or 20 Questions/Reading Together/Back Hugs/Outsider POV/“Follow me”

July 27: Caretaking/Meeting The Family/Public Displays of Affection/Finishing Each Other’s Sentences/“You read my mind”

August 3: Adoption/Swing Set/Under The Moonlight/Tickling/“Can we do that again?”

August 10: Carrying Things For The Other/Playful Banter/Comforting Actions/Spontaneous Trip/“May I…?”

August 17: Study Buddy/School AU/Passing Notes/Conversations Without Words/“You’ve told your parents/family/friends?”

August 24: Public Library/Sharing Earbuds To Listen To Music Together/Leaving Notes With Food Or Drinks Packed Or Given/Meeting Up During Breaks/“Anything interesting happen today?”

August 31: Loving Gaze/Soft Kisses/Making Playlists Or Mixtapes For The Other/Doing The Other’s Hair/“You’ve been saving this for a special occasion” - “This is it”

September 7: Angel Kiss (Kissing Eyelids)/Power Outage/Resting Their Head On The Other’s Lap While They Do Something/Doing Chores Together/“Let me know what you need, alright?”

September 14: Awkward, But Cute/Good-Natured Teasing/Taking Pictures Of The Other Smiling Or In Their Element/Marathon (any)/“Practice makes perfect”

September 21: Good Morning & Good Night Texts or Written Messages/Sitting On Or Being Pulled Onto The Other’s Lap/Sharing A Book Or Reading A Series Together/Pick Up & Drop Off/“Come here”

September 28: Laughing Together/Pinky Swear/Tracing The Lines Or Writing On The Other’s Hand With Fingers/Watching The Other Sleep/“I’ll take care of it, go rest.”

October 5: Good Morning & Good Night Kisses/Helping The Other Put Something On/Comforting Presence/Running A Bath For The Other/“Feeling better?”

October 12: Play Fight/Carrying To Bed/Whispering Sweet Nothings/Holding Or Touching The Other While They Work/“Tell me about your day”

October 19: Sharing An Umbrella/Fixing The Other’s Clothes or Hair/Making Time To Be With The Other/Weekend In The Countryside/“Oh, I haven’t done this since I was X!”

October 26: Leaves/Kissing In The Rain/Comfort After A Rough Day/Sharing A Bed/“You are my home”

November 2: Soulmate AU/Pillow Talk/Inside Jokes/Tying The Other’s Shoe When It’s Untied/“I’m always here for you”

November 9: Wall Kiss/First Dance/Head Pets/Art, Craft, Poetry, Music/“Have fun?”

November 16: Reunion/Cooking Together/Secret Family Recipe/Photo Album Sharing/“I’m thankful for you”

November 23: Starting A New Tradition/Leading By The Hand/Swapping Favorite Playlists/Getting To Know You/“You’ll get X all over you” - “I don’t care”

November 30: First Snow/Matching Sweaters/Playing In Snow/Baking/“You’re not dressed warmly enough”

December 7: Hot Drinks/Snow Day/Huddled Together/Building A Snowperson/“Baby, It’s Cold Outside”

December 14: Snowed In/Giving A Coat Or Scarf To The Other/Wrapped/Hand Warmer/“I’m comfortable where I am, right here with you”

December 21: Gift Exchange/Home For The Holidays/All The Hugs/Head On The Other’s Shoulder/“It smells like you”

December 28: Cozy By The Fireplace/Doing Their Favorite Things Together/Cute Nicknames/Twirling/“Seeing your face makes me smile”

Place Where You Want Prompts:

• Birthday Party

• Anniversary/Friendiversary

• Celebrating A Holiday Together

• Fluff & Stuff (writer’s choice!)

#writing challenges #writing prompts #writing prompt #writeblr

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theheartofthestar · 9 months ago

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Prompt 28 - Dogwalking AU

@wolfstarmicrofic - April 28th, 1284 words

The doorbell rings in the middle of a Saturday, and Padfoot, bless that big silly boy, barks and wags his tail in his better impersonation of a golden retriever.

When Remus picked him up from the shelter, he was told Padfoot was a dog not many people took interest in, big and black as he was, people assumed he'd be aggressive. No matter he was actually a sweet silly puppy at heart, no matter his previous owner had obviously trained him well. In French of all languages, but still, well trained once you got the hang of the right commands.

It was Lily who had called him, almost begging him to take this dog. Padfoot was clearly struggling to adapt to the shelter, needed extra cuddles from the humans, and although he was very friendly, the volunteers could see him getting sadder by the day. So Lily, in her endless wisdom, had called the one friend who also needed some extra company, who also needed those extra cuddles, and who struggled to voice that need. And so Remus had found himself with a lap full of Padfoot and jumpers that would forever be interwoven with black dog hair.

Enough to say it had been some very happy six months so far.

So here they are, cuddling on the sofa, Remus with a cup of tea on one hand and a dark romance novel in the other, something he's reading for the bookclub Mary roped him into. Padfoot lying down mostly on top of him, a happy dog smile on his furry little face as he drools in his sleep. The doorbell rings and Padfoot scrambles up, paws expertly finding and painfully digging in all of Remus' soft places.

"Coming! Just a sec! No, Pads, back, stand back- No, Padfoot, wait, listen you need to let me open the door-" Remus finally manages to push Padfoot out of the way and open the door just a crack. Outside, there are two handsome young men, one big and buff and sporting a pair of glasses that would look nerdy on anyone else but on him just look sexy, and one tall and lean, leather jacket and wide legged pants hugging a tight waist barely visible under a crop top.

Remus immediately can be sure of two things: one, it's been way too long since he got laid if he's thirsting so hard over strangers, and two, this is probably a type of scam, since how else would two people that looked like this ever knock randomly on Remus' door?

"Hi!" The dark skinned one says with a bright smile. Padfoot barks louder, trying to push against Remus' legs.

"No, Pads, please shh- Hello?" Remus answers.

"Is that your dog?" Says the man in leather, hands in his pockets, but head trying to peak behind Remus. Padfoot barks and barks and barks.

"Yeah?" Remus says, and it's almost a question. "Sorry for the noise, if that's the problem, we're usually a lot quieter than this, he's just excit-"

"He's a very handsome dog" interrupts the man, eyes shining.

"...ok" Remus doesn't want to be rude, really, but what ever? He almost closes the door in their faces, he would have, if he wasn't both trying to hold the door and stop Padfoot from pushing it open. "No, Pads, please, what is happening, love? Please shhh"

"I told you it was Padfoot!" Says the one with the glasses, slapping the other man on the back and then coming even closer, to kneel by Remus' door and try to pet Padfoot through the small crack. Padfoot goes berserk at this. "Name's James, this is Sirius-" James nods to the other man, and then his voice shifts to a baby voice "-and this is baby Padfoot, yes you are, yes you are baby boy, who's the bestest boy?"

"How did you, uhm, did you find my address from the shelter?" Remus says, thinking maybe Lily lead them here.

"The shelter? He was in a shelter?" Sirius eyes snap up to Remus' face, searching for something. His eyes are still shining dangerously.

"Oh no, I saw you two walking and I followed you the other day" James says casually, as if that's just the most normal thing to do, follow people home, and then adds, with a wink "I could recognize my nephew anywhere"

Remus finally opens the door, and Padfoot runs out, jumping up and down, around the two men. He then jumps right up onto Sirius chest, huge black dog being held like the most precious thing, and Sirius just starts bawling, right then and there, against Padfoot's fur. The dog licks his face and wags his tail. Remus is moved but also very, very confused.

"I was told he was surrendered" Remus says, doubtfully, after the sobs diminish. "His family couldn't take care of him anymore"

"They told me they killed him" Sirius says, and starts sobbing hard again. James runs a hand up and down his back, looking pained.

"Maybe Reggie took him. He's smart like that, and you always said he loves animals, he probably lied to them" James says, and looks at Remus as if asking for support on this. Remus almost throws his hands up. What can he even say? He doesn't know who this Reggie person is! Hell, he doesn't know who these two men are!

"So" Remus starts, feeling at a loss but also starting to feel slightly annoyed. Whoever these people are, they are clearly the previous owners, but Remus- well, Remus loves this dog, alright? And he's not going to let him go, especially not back to the family that abandoned him in the first place. "I'm sorry, but- you can't take him"

The two men look up at him, Sirius still teary eyed, James tilting his head as if confused.

"You can't take him with you, I mean" Remus says, hoping his voice sounds more confident than he feels. "He's- we live together, now, he's been living here for months, and he was in the shelter a long time too, so I don't think-"

"No, I understand" Sirius interrupts, and Padfoot finally jumps down. Wagging his tail happily, watching all of them with big, happy eyes.

"Sirius-" James starts, voice unsure.

"No, James, that makes sense. This is his home now and I think..." Sirius trails off.

"Remus"

"...I think Remus is right" he finishes, hand on his hips and nodding as if trying to convince himself.

James looks at Sirius with something close to heartbreak in his eyes, Sirius looks at Padfoot adoringly, Padfoot comes to Remus, all silly smiles and happy tail, and Remus says something he had never considered before.

"Maybe you could walk him, sometimes?" Remus says, and when two sets of eyes look up at him, he blushes. "I mean, he will still live here, but if you want... You could take him for walks, or to the dog park"

"Oh! Like joint custody!" James perks up with a bright smile. Remus winces.

"Like dogwalking" Remus corrects, but he sees Sirius' hopeful smile.

"Yeah, I'd- I'd love that, actually."

Remus' heart beats faster when Sirius looks him straight in the eyes. He suddenly has a feeling this will all be too much like co-parenting.

He blushes, and when Sirius says he'll stop by the next day and asks Remus for his favorite coffee order so he can bring some for him, Remus fights the urge to bite his lip like a teenage girl.

He closes the door, and slides down until he's sitting with his back against it, and a lap full of happy, panting Padfoot.

"Oh, Pads, what did we get ourselves into?"

You can read more of my work here

#astra writes #wolfstar microfic #wolfstar #Padfoot is a good boi #sirius black #Remus Lupin

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rubiehart · 10 months ago

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𝐫𝐮𝐛𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝟏𝐤 𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧!

THIS EVENT IS OVER!

thankyou all so so much for 1k followers, i love how we’ve made a little community on here where we all come and talk about our crushes hehe, i’m so grateful for each and every one of you and love you allll!!

soo.. i’m inviting everyone reading this to my one thousand followers celebration!

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬: 5th april

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬: 21st april

🌊; 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐛𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 - send me a prompt or scenario along with a character from the list below ⇩ and i’ll make a small moodboard for it!

🏵️; 𝐬𝐨𝐥 𝐝𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫 - send in any prompt from this list and a character and i’ll write a short blurb based around the prompt!

🐋; 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥 - go on a date with your favourite obx boy! send in anything you feel comfortable sharing about yourself (eg. love language, hobby or sport) accompanied by your fav boy and i’ll write a few headcannons specifically for you!

🍯; 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 - send me three characters for fuck, marry, kill! (any fandom or show! if i don’t know them i’ll search and base it on looks!)

🫂; 𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 - send in a little information about yourself (hobbies, personality type, style etc.) and i’ll tell you which boy or girl you’re most compatible with!

🍍; 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐧 - send in songs that remind you of the obx characters (specific character coded) and i’ll listen and evaluate with you!

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐝:

𐑺 jj maybank

𐑺 john b routledge

𐑺 pope heyward

𐑺 sarah cameron

𐑺 kiara carrera

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batpham-discord-highlights · 3 months ago

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2024 April fools and Anniversary Event Prompt List part 3

See what the event was and it's rule here!

Hero! Prompts:

Hero Kiss King of Gunned Bugs

Damian glared at the front of the classroom, specifically at the teacher in front of the whiteboard. Mr. Nightingale. "Call me Dan, for Ancient's sake," he had told them early in the year, was a curious man. He was one of Gotham Academy's more.... unorthodox teachers, less formal as well. He was a science teacher, and despite the urgings of Admin, he never coached for any of the sports GA offered. He was half certain Nightingale was a villain in his career's infancy. All Damian had to do was stop him.

Hero Owen

"Dick!” Tim shouted out his older brother, cringing at his voice. Well, actually it was Dick’s voice, but his brother decided to be an idiot so it’s going to be his voice for now. “You said to grab it!” Dick shouted back, from his spot inside Jason’s body. “WHY ON EARTH WOULD I SAY TO TOUCH THE GREEN GLOWING OBJECT?!” “I DON’T KNOW!” “GUYS!” Jason screamed. “It doesn’t matter whose fault it is! The fucking problem is that now I’m in Steph’s fucking body and she’s a foot shorter than me!”

Tim Drake is a descendant of an ancient hero known only in modern day as Phantom. What happens when this hero comes back from the dead, possessing is next of kin?

Hero One Spooky Boy

Danny seriously hates the Justice League. He tried calling for help in Amity once, and they completely dismissed it as a prank and didn't even attempt to check it out. Something about knowing how ghosts worked and they didn't work like this. Anyways, the Justice League turned up in Amity Park to investigate the GIW and Danny is not having it.

When Danny dies for the first time, he sees something. A masked city with a caped crusader of the night, and a man with a grotesque grin and green hair holding a crowbar over his head. He doesn't find out until years later that his ghost half is the ghost of Jason Todd, keeping him alive.

Villains! Prompts:

Villain BreKitten

Look. Danny didn't mean to fall through the floor and into the cave underneath Wayne Manor. It just happened! But, well. It wouldn't hurt to take a peek, right? Right. Just a little look around the frankly ginormous cave wouldn't have any consequences at all.

A magic user manages to get down to the Batcave. Luckily, no one is hurt, but a stray spell hits the dinosaur, making it come to life.

Villain Non-Malicious Animalization

Something's out in the Kansas woods. Something dripping green, something defensive.

Gotham rogues quickly learned the rules of aposematism. This has resulted in some parents taking the risk of dressing their kids like Robin. This makes most low-level thugs avoid them, but can be a risk when it comes to the bigger rogues and the batclan itself. (Please feel free to make this an inhuman batfamily AU. Preferably not vampires or something. I like it when vigilantes are their own species. They're territorial.)

Villain Ky

Unfortunately for everyone involved, Jazz is the one who’s put all the actual realms biology stuff together, not danny. So when it comes down to defeating misinformation, Jazz and Phantom team up to give the…. world’s most awkward schoolwide presentation?

If anyone wants to use and post with these prompts the Ao3 collection link is here, or post with #April Fools event 2024

#batpham server #dpxdc #batpham discord server #batpham server shenanigans #April Fools event 2024 #dpxdc prompts

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redlegumes · 1 year ago

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Dec 8th: Dead Give Away, Innit?

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles

Summary: Wayne is tired of Steve and Eddie, beating around the bush. It's obvious that when their 'kids' ask them to host a holiday party together they're ready for these two to get together too.

❆˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗❆

Wayne ducked his head out of the kitchen to see Eddie struggling, arms full ,trying to get through their small home’s door. He was about to help when he saw a familiar tan hand and scarred wrist help his nephew. Steve Harrington, back again.

Wayne waited a beat and then headed out after them. Eavesdropping was something he rarely did around Eddie, the boy deserved his privacy, but… he was curious what the two were up to this time. He hung back a little, listening to the young men while standing just inside the front door.

continues after the cut

He didn’t quite hear what Eddie said but he caught Steve’s reply.

“No, this time Max called.”

“What?”

“Yeah, she wanted to make sure we weren’t just ‘throwing it together’ last minute.”

“What a little ingrate,” Eddie exclaimed.

Wayne cracked the door open and watched as Steve leaned in toward Eddie, startling him into a low chuckle. “You love her.”

“You… no, you ‘Mama’ Harrington,” Eddie said, poking Steve in the chest, inches away from his face now. “You know, that’s what they call you.”

Wayne held his breath. Is this it?

Steve stepped back. “I guess I’ve got a reputation to uphold. So you better be bringing your ‘a’ game Eddie.”

“Sports ref-”

Wayne exhaled and stepped outside into the chill, Indiana winter air. Idiots. “-what’s all this now boys?”

Steve waved, and Eddie grinned before picking his gear back up. “The kids insisted we host a holiday party for them,” he huffed, loading an amp and his guitar into the back of the van.

“Yeah, very specific that we head it up,” Steve added, grimacing. “I don’t know why. I mean I’ve thrown some parties but-”

“Oh, really Stevie?”

Wayne folded his arms over his chest as he watched his boy hip check the always well groomed Harrington, slightly throwing him off balance. He also watched as the blush covered the young man’s face, and groaned lightly. The two had been fawning over each other, teasing, and then pulling back every time it looked like they might be finally getting somewhere. It’d been like that since April, and Wayne had just about had his fill.

Steve had already won him over. Harrington wasn’t given a free pass just for saving his nephew’s life, but in the following months he’d proven to be no fair weather friend to the Munsons. He shepherded those kids Eddie cared about too back and forth to physical therapy and just about anywhere else they begged him to. Steve would put on a show, all put upon, but Wayne saw the protective glint in his eye and the smile he hid every time he was ‘pressed’ to help them out. Steve was good people. But tripping over his tongue in front of Eddie was getting a little old.

Wayne suspected their extended friend group felt the same way if Steve and Eddie had been pushed to plan a holiday celebration together.

“The ‘Hair’ and his masterful party skills squandered on a lil event for a group of sophomores,” Eddie wheedled.

“Hey,” Steve protested. “And us, and Robin, she’s bringing Vickie. Jonathan and Nancy will be back in town, your DnD guys-”

“-my bandmates-”

“-both.” Steve tugged on one of Eddie’s curls. “It’s not just the kids.”

Wayne shifted his weight, fighting the urge to light up a cigarette. This has gone on long enough. “So, it sounds like you two are planning. Are the other older teens bringing anything to help out? You know, the couples other than you two. Decorations? Food?”

Steve blinked slowly. “Um, Everyone is bringing white elephant gifts. I recommended they bring snacks and drinks, but I don’t expect anyone to so I make sure to have plenty.”

“Who all is dating who now,” Wayne asked as casually as possible. If these two knuckleheads are going to keep being dense I might as well act oblivious. “I know the redhead is with Sinclair. But I never seem to know who Hopper’s kid is or isn’t seeing. And your Robin is seeing the Carmichael girl.” Steve was mouthing words without sound. Eddie had frozen where he stood. “But I suppose they wanted you two to host since you're the ones who have been together the longest and are still in town.”

Eddie’s face steadily turned bright scarlet. “What would, Wayne, what… Steve and me?”

“Aw, don’t worry none boy.” Eddie’s jaw dropped. “What,” Wayne chuckled, “was it supposed to be a secret? Jeez, you both doing this holiday get together is a bit of a dead give away innit?”

Steve’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Dustin, it was Dustin’s suggestion, and then everyone said we should…”

“Hmmm?” Wayne chose not to catch what he was saying. “Well, my two cents, if you care, is don’t get too worried about making it all perfect. Make sure you both have a good time too.” Wayne turned back to the house to hide his smile. “And don’t forget the mistletoe.”

…

Wayne parted the blinds a few minutes later to catch a quick glimpse of Steve and Eddie wrapped up in each other, kissing as flurries began to fall.

Finally.

2023 RedLegumes Steddiemas 1 2 3 4 5 6 10 SteddieHolidayDrabbles 1 2 3 4 6 8 9 10

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #i write things #holiday drabbles #ficlet #steddie ficlet #steddieholidaydrabbles #first kiss #wayne pov #wayne munson #idiots in love #idiots to lovers

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felicitysmoaksx · 2 months ago

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NHL Conner reuniting with Sarah, who might have been his childhood "gf" in kindergarten something cute and fluffy or make it angst

Day 3 of the Advent Prompt Challenge! Set loosely during season 1 of Chicago Med and this also falls into my NHL Hockey Star! Connor Rhodes au!

“Reese,” Maggie’s voice floated somewhere above her and Sarah looked up from where she was helping April unpack supplies so they could stock the supply closet. It wasn’t the call of her name that made her look up though, but the confusion in the charge nurse’s voice.

“Yeah Mags, what’s up?”

“There is a man here. Dr. Halstead says he’s the right wringer for the Blackhawks.”

“Okay...” the brunette drew out the word, unsure of why the other woman was telling her this.

“What does that have to do with me Maggie?” Sarah asked as her confusion grew. It wasn’t like she kept up with the sport. Except that Claire’s big brother played the sport professionally.

“He says he’s your husband.”

“What?”

It was Claire’s brother. Sarah saw as she followed behind the charge nurse to where this right-winger was (whatever that was) and there stood Connor Rhodes. Because of course, her best friend's older brother would say something idiotic like he was her husband.

"Hey! There is Mrs. Connor Rhodes now!" He grinned broadly when he saw her walking towards him. All eyes turned to her and she felt a flush of heat running up...everywhere. She was probably as red as a tomato by now.

"I'm not your wife," she muttered glaring at him. But Connor didn't seem fazed. In fact, his grin morphed into one she had only seen a few times. It was soft and his ocean-blue eyes seemed to brighten into stars and those stars seemed to twinkle.

"You doodling Mrs. Sarah Rhodes in your math notebook says otherwise." He teased softly.

"I was ten years old!" The brunette protested, wishing the floor would just open up and swallow her whole. Why shouldn't the rumor mill of Gaffney know about her childhood crush of the man in front of her? But the man in front of her still didn't seem fazed at her words.

"Claire told me she's bringing you to tonight's game." He said holding up a jersey for her to see, "And with it being my first homecoming game back with the Blackhawks-"

Connor had been traded to Boston before Sarah started medical school and had been traded back just before the season started. "-I thought my future wife could wear my jersey."

Sarah took the red jersey with the writing: Rhodes: 15 on the back of it.

"Connor, this looks like the real thing and not just something you get fans. You need this to play."

She glanced up to see Connor rolling his eyes. "Sarah, give me some credit. This is my old jersey. Before I was traded. You know the one you wore the night before I left for Boston..."

A second flush started to creep up her cheeks. Because images of that night had started to flash in her mind.

"And Claire?"

"My sister is wearing my away jersey." Connor reassured the curly-haired brunette, pushing a stray curly behind her ear as he leaned into her personal space to whisper, "Besides, this jersey is no one else's but yours. After all, we did christen it together."

A third flush started to creep up her cheeks.

#one chicago #chicago med #sarah reese #connor rhodes #rheese #my writing #felicitysmoaksx 2024 advent writing challenge #NHL! Connor Rhodes

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itsawhumpsideblog · 9 months ago

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BBU Community Days 2024, Day 13

April 26 / Writing Prompt: "MADE FOR IT" / Write a BBU story based on the prompt and share it!

CW: for institutionalized slavery, whipping, foot injury, blood, emotional abuse

Most boxboys were transported to their new owners after purchase in the boxes that inspired the term- long, narrow crates into which they were packed and shipped- but not KV1946. On the day he was sent to his Master, KV1946 was washed and dressed in slacks and a sport coat and ordered into the back seat of a car. He was careful not to wrinkle the clothing when he fastened the seat belt and he folded his hands carefully in front of him and sat very still during the ride.

He would have liked to spend more time looking out the window, but he had been instructed to sit properly, which meant straightening his spine and looking directly ahead. KV1946 tried not to feel nervous and instead focused on remembering his training. There would be cleaning to do, household management, serving at meals... he could do those things. He had been trained. Perhaps he would be able to please his Master.

It was slightly more than an hour before KV1946 saw a large house come into view. It was situated in the middle of extensive, beautifully manicured grounds and the car pulled up in a circular drive out front. KV1946 sat very still until the WRU employee who was driving ordered him to get out and stood to greet her client.

Someone had opened the door and his Master was coming down the wide front steps, smiling broadly. He was in middle age, dressed in a fine suit and adjusting his cuffs in a way that suggested he didn't need to adjust them but wanted the WRU lady to know he was the kind of man who wore cufflinks on a Tuesday morning.

"Welcome, welcome," he said, spreading his hands wide as if showing the WRU lady that the grounds were hers to enjoy, for the minutes she would be present on them. "Is this my young man, then?" He strode over to KV1946 and peered closely at him with a smile that was as much a show as the cufflinks.

KV1946 stood quietly, as he had been trained, with his hands clasped loosely in front of him; his new Master circled him very slowly, examining the merchandise.

"I'm told you did very well in your training," he said. "I was pleased to hear it. We hold very high standards, here." He looked KV1946 in the eye in a way that seemed to require a response. KV1946 lowered his eyes deferentially and said quietly, "Yes, Master."

The man gave a delighted little laugh. "Very good! Very good, indeed." Then he ignored KV1946 to speak briefly to the WRU employee and hand her an envelope with a discreet but substantial tip.

When KV1946's Master had finished speaking, even though the WRU lady was still right there, standing outside her car, he turned away from her and shifted his attention to the Pet as thoroughly as if she had never existed.

"Come inside," he ordered his newest purchase. "I will show you the house and acquaint you with your tasks. Referring to you by serial number is vulgar; you will be called Francis." And off he swept with KV1946- now Francis- following as quickly as he could.

The next hour was a whirlwind tour of the home and, to an extent, the grounds. Francis' responsibilities lay entirely inside, but Master wanted him to know where things were around the property, in case of some need. Francis hoped desperately that he could remember all of it and when he was told to go begin fixing lunch, was relieved to find that he knew the way to the kitchen.

Lunch was served without any particular difficulty and then Francis cleaned the kitchen until it sparkled. Afterwards, he retrieved Master's laundry and spent some time treating stains and loading the washing machine. After that, there was dusting in the office.

All the while, Master sat on the porch in the sunshine with a long-stemmed glass in hand. When he saw Francis, he looked very satisfied and said, "I don't know why I didn't get one of you a long time ago."

The satisfaction made Francis' heart leap. Master's happiness was his own sense of security and he found that he desperately wanted to hear another approving word. He would be perfect for Master. Master would like him and keep him and he would never be sent back to the WRU, like bad Pets were. Even the thought made Francis shiver. He had seen, at least enough to have an idea, what happened to Pets who were sent back.

Late that evening, Francis began to feel overwhelmed. It was hard to remember the long list of chores and the order in which they were to be completed. He wracked his brain, ignoring a slight headache, to remember whether he was to do the ironing before setting out Master's clothes for the following day, or after.

He guessed incorrectly and Master, now dressed in a smoking jacket, entered his room and frowned. "Where are my clothes?" he demanded of Francis, who froze and tried not to look as nervous as he felt.

"Master?"

"No, no 'Master'. You were to lay out a suit and then begin the ironing. I want to have my room all to myself, not spend my evening waiting on your pleasure to have clean clothes." He shook his head. "This is not what I was led to expect when I purchased you."

"This Pet is very sorry, Master." Francis hung his head. He could hear the rough, nervous edge in his voice.

"Finish the ironing and then go to the basement," Master said in a very firm tone.

Francis' hands were shaking as he finished the last few items and although he wasn't sure what would happen in the basement, he did know that he wasn't looking forward to finding out.

When he got there, Master was already standing at the bottom of the stairs, his arms crossed, with a small switch in his hand. There was a chair in the center of the room, away from the walls and the bit of bedding Francis was allowed- or would have been allowed, he thought. He would have to see if Master took it away for his infraction.

"I am going to be lenient on you, because it's your first day here," Master explained. "Sit in that chair and hold up one foot."

For a moment, Francis was mystified, and then he realized what Master planned to do. He sat and gripped the sides of the chair so that Master wouldn't see his hands trembling. Master took Francis' heel in one hand and raised the small whip, bringing it down on the sole of Francis' right foot with surprising force.

Francis let out a soft cry and then clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle the noise. Master looked at him with something like disgust.

"What are you crying for already?" he asked. "It can't possibly hurt that badly. You were made for this, after all." He didn't seem to want a reply, which was as well. Francis kept his hand over his mouth as the whip connected again with the sole of his foot.

On the third blow, Master let out a small cry of his own and jumped back suddenly, letting Francis' foot fall to the floor.

"I've cut myself," Master exclaimed. He was holding up his left hand, which was bleeding from a single laceration across the backs of his fingers. Master made a noise of frustration and pain and then said through gritted teeth, "Wait here, I don't want you making a mess."

He disappeared for a moment and returned with a plastic box, which he thrust towards Francis. "It's a first aid kit. Bandage my hand for me."

The absurdity of the situation never occurred to Francis; he simply opened the kit, found an individually wrapped wipe to clean the wound and then the gauze and medical tape. While he dabbed away the blood, Master hissed and swore under his breath and when Francis had taped on the bandage, he shook his hand as if it smarted.

Francis almost dared to hope he would give up on the rest of the punishment, but there was no such luck. "Hold your foot out," Master said. Francis did so, holding his leg up with both hands under his knee. Using only one hand, Master continued the flogging, ignoring the drops of blood that fell to the floor. Francis pressed his lips tightly together to prevent another upsetting display of emotion that would only make this worse and waited for it to be over. When he thought he might not be able to stand any more, Master finally straightened up and nodded once.

"Clean that up," he said, gesturing to the blood spatters on the floor. "And I expect you on duty as I told you in the morning." Then he stalked up the stairs, taking the whip with him.

In the basement, Francis sat in the chair and tried to collect himself. His breath coming in shuddering sighs but he squeezed his eyes shut and fought to stay quiet and controlled. When he rose to clean the floor, he walked gingerly on the outside of his foot. His vision closed to a pinprick of light as he worked, shutting him off from the pain, pushing it away so that it felt almost like another entity. But when he finally lowered himself carefully to his cot, the agony washed up over Francis and he hugged his knee to his chest and cried himself to sleep.

In the morning, Francis was woken early by the pain. He was still clutching his knee and his foot still stung so badly that he was almost afraid to look at it. When he worked up the courage, the news was not good. The foot and ankle were badly swollen and the sole of his foot was covered in dried blood.

When he dressed, slowly and painfully, Francis found that his sock fit, though tightly, but he couldn't get his shoe on over it. He pulled at the shoe, tugging at the tongue and trying to force the heel, until he was crying again and was about to risk being late for his duties. At last, Francis gave up and ascended the stairs, fully dressed except for his wounded foot in its soft, white sock.

Master wasn't downstairs yet and Francis began the first chores of the day, limping badly as he made the rounds of the house to water the plants and then headed back to the kitchen to begin breakfast. He cooked eggs, toast and sausage and fried some tomatoes and arranged it all on a large plate. He brewed coffee and set a place at the dining room table with understated-but-elegant china and a crystal glass for orange juice. He placed a newspaper above Master's place and kept the food warm until Master seated himself at the table and rang for it.

Francis brought out the plate and went back for a mug of coffee and then for the orange juice, ready in a clear carafe to be poured fresh for Master. It was on the third trip that Master, nearing the end of the page he was reading, caught sight of Francis out of the corner of his eye and looked up in displeasure.

"What is that?" He asked, gesturing dismissively at Francis' feet.

"This Pet was unable to get his shoe on," Francis said in a very small voice. He found that his mouth had gone dry and it was hard to speak.

"This Pet has orders not to appear above stairs in less than immaculate condition," Master corrected him coldly. "I took care that you would be fit to serve. Go below stairs at once and fix the issue. Do not appear above stairs under-dressed again. My guests will be here for a morning garden party in one hour. I expect the porch swept and mimosas staged on the table. There will be finger sandwiches for lunch and you will stay outside to serve." He turned back to his newspaper, which meant that Francis was dismissed.

Shaking in the aftermath of his fear, Francis limped back down the stairs and almost fell onto his pallet, where the odd shoe sat. He eyed it with distaste for a moment, but there was no time to waste. It was going to be a busy morning and he would need to use all of the time to prepare. Francis tried again to put the shoe on, but still without success.

He took a moment for a deep breath and a sigh and then began to unlace the shoe completely. With the laces off, he was able to place his foot inside it and lace the shoe up, after a fashion. His foot was already beginning to throb and when he stood, it took all his training to keep him on his feet and headed up the stairs.

Francis was driven nearly to distraction by the pain, but he was somehow still upright and had even managed to put out a clean, white tablecloth and a vase of flowers to display the mimosas before Master's guests arrived. As ordered, Francis stationed himself next to the table with a tray to collect empty glasses and to keep the table supplied with drinks and light canapes.

Master greeted the guests and showed them to the back porch, handing each a drink as they passed through the door to mill about on the flagstones of the porch. The hand he had injured while punishing Francis remained bandaged and Master had placed it in a narrow black sling to go with his morning coat.

"You poor thing!" one of his guests cooed. "Whatever have you done to your hand?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing," Master said, clearly pleased at the attention. "Just a little cut, the doctor says everything ought to be fine before many weeks have passed." He waved the other hand languidly, dismissing the opinions of doctors who, he implied, fussed too much.

"You bear it very bravely, I'm sure," the woman assured him, patting his shoulder sympathetically. She finished her drink and held it out, secure in the knowledge that the help would be by to collect it immediately.

Francis moved away from the safety of the table to take the glass. He tried not to shuffle, which would probably make Master angry, but his foot was throbbing so badly that he could hardly think of anything else. He hoped he could go back and stand behind the table, in the shade, and put all his weight on his left foot for just a few minutes.

"Doesn't your pet mind just standing there like that?" another woman asked his Master. "Won't he get bored?" Master looked over as if he had only just noticed Francis standing there, as if he was so used to Francis that he was no more noticeable than the trees.

"I can't imagine so," Master said in a musing voice. "After all, isn't that what they're made for?"

The party lasted for a few hours and by the time he brought out the finger sandwiches, Francis was shaking and sick with pain. At each step, he wondered whether his leg would give way and drop him- and, more importantly, the sandwiches- to the ground, right there in front of all of Master's guests.

Somehow, he got through the rest of the morning and then the afternoon as well; luckily, Master seemed to be tired out by the effort of hosting and went to take a nap. Francis could limp as much as he needed and stand on his left foot only while he cooked and cleaned. The day went by very slowly, but in a strange haze. The foot went numb after several hours and Francis was a little relieved, although the numbness made it hard to balance when he walked.

At last, Master turned in for the night and Francis went back to the basement. He sat down on the top step and eased himself down with his right foot held in the air. At the bottom, he very carefully untied and unlaced the shoe and drew it off, his heart pounding uncomfortably as feeling came back into the swollen flesh. With feeling came terrible pain and Francis could feel the small supper he had been allowed turn over in his stomach. He hopped desperately to the toilet in the corner of the room, but nothing came up and after a few long moments, he finally collapsed onto his cot.

Later, Francis barely remembered that day. It was not so different from many of the ones that came after it and working while he was in pain became the most ordinary thing in the world for him. But it was one late night, in a different house entirely, that Master's words came back to him.

It had been a long day; Francis was still expending more energy than he knew in trying to understand his new home. Sir and Ma'am were kind, but could be confusing sometimes. Francis was always waiting for them to change, to become angry, to begin ordering him about. He did not expect to live without fear, but the relentless struggle to make sense of his new life was taking its toll.

That night, Sir carried Francis up to bed while Mikey and Nathan stayed downstairs with Ma'am. It was not so late, really, and the sun had only just dipped below the horizon, but Francis had been running hot all day and the pain in his feet was making him restless.

"I'm so sorry you aren't feeling better yet," Sir said, sounding like he meant it.

"Francis will be in working order soon," Francis replied. He hoped it was true.

"Don't worry about working," Sir said, for some reason, but it was in a cheerful tone that might almost have been a joke and Francis was more confused than frightened by the words. He wasn't sure how to respond, and so he didn't. Instead, he lay still and watched Sir bustle about.

Sir straightened his blankets so they laid across his shins, not over his bandaged feet where they would feel heavy and hurt Francis. Then Sir put a thermometer in his mouth and waited patiently for the result. After three minutes, he removed it, peered at it, and shook his head.

"It's about what I expected," he said and then placed a cool water bottle on Francis' head. It was soothing to his hot skin and racing mind and almost made Francis feel like he might be able to fall asleep.

Maybe it was the high fever that made him so bold, but Francis looked up at Sir, sitting there quietly, watching him with such worry on his face and he dared to ask a question.

"Sir- if Francis might be permitted- er- why are you and Ma'am doing all of this?"

"What, taking care of you guys?" Francis nodded and worried that maybe he shouldn't have spoken, in case Sir thought he was ungrateful.

Instead, Sir smiled and shrugged a little. "Humans take care of each other- it's just what we do. I guess we were made for it."

Master List

Notes: Some backstory for Francis!

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#bbu #bbucommunity #box boy universe #box boy whump #whump #the safehouse #pet whump

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