#basically the plot to milkshake

[zirafail]

in the diner. straight up “torkin it”. and by “it”, haha, well. let’s justr say my peter.

[rotthepoet]

Come Home (Dark!Mattheo Riddle x Reader)

Notes; DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. Dark!Matty has been plaguing my mind and I need an outlet omg. I lowkey rewrote some lore for this, so essentially the battle of Hogwarts takes place but Voldemort's influence still lives on through Mattheo, who basically runs the new Knights of Walpurgis(The slytherin boys). Everyone is evil, all good business. 

Warnings; again, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. Dark!Mattheo, Murder/death/gore, stalking, kidnapping, mattheo might highkey be ooc but its fine, dubcon(reader REALLY wants him but like.. morals?), oral(F! And M!), mention of fem masturbation, predator/prey dynamic, spitting, degradation, lowkey breeding kink?, piv, lowkey porn with plot, Stockholm syndrome if you squint, at least he kinda gets a redemption arc

This one goes out to my beautiful @nottswitch i hope dark!mattheo comes to life and fucks us both <3

Word count; 6.3k

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

The bitter breeze in the frigid air pricks through my thin shirt as the diner door swings open and shut again as a customer disappears into the icky black of our winter night. I stare out after him, a farewell unspoken on my lips as I cast my gaze towards an orange, flickering lamp post lining the parallel street, and I realize how truly cold it is inside the shabby eatery. 

As I tug the embarrassingly short, mandated skirt I'm forced to wear, I can only think of the comforting and safe walls of Hogwarts, my home only months ago, yearning for the soft crackle of a fireplace and the ambient chatter of portraits lining the walls. The muggles had nothing as interesting, nothing as familiar as the light of the silver moon passing through the large windows of the great hall. Nothing as comfortable as my own home back in England, with my mother and fathers smiling faces. Nothing as comfortable as the safe, unscarred arms of the once-kind boy I loved what feels like so long ago. 

Being on the lam for about a month now, I've been skipping towns and laying low where I can. It’s not often, but when I'm able to stay in a town for longer than a week, I take pitiful muggle jobs, my current being to take orders at a local diner, “famous for their milkshakes”, although fame must mean four regular visitors in this nowhere town. 

Jean, the gray-haired woman who owns the diner I work at, leans over the counter and points at the analog clock hanging on the wall. It reads almost 1:30, and it finally sets in how tired I am. She hums and looks me up and down, standing in the middle of the floor, standing stiff as a board while holding a broom. She clicks her tongue and shakes her head, a small smile gracing her aged face. 

“I’m sorry, I zoned out.” I apologize, leaning the non-flying broom against a nearby booth, and smooth out my wind-swept hair. 

Jean just shakes her head, “Go on and head home. You did good today.” she hums in approvement, tossing me my room key that was previously hanging on a hook in the kitchen. “Be careful out there, the papers said another storm is coming.” she warned, but a storm is the furthest thing from my mind as I push open the door. Silver light flashes across the street and my heart nearly stops beating, a pit forms in the bottom of my stomach. My eyes squint, finally adjusting to the lack of light, catch the face of a mannequin in the window of a shop. I let out a breath I don’t realize I’m holding and relax as I realize the moon had simply caught the silver details on the faux person. I turn on my heel and carry on down the dimly lit pavement towards my motel. 

It’s just as run down as everything else in this town, water stains stretching across the ceiling like swatches of muddy paint, and the hideous carpet crunches underneath my feet. It isn’t much. It is nothing, in fact, but a roof over my head and sanctuary from the ruthless dangers outside. 

I drop each article of clothing from my body onto the yellowing tile of the bathroom floor, stepping into the freezing cold water of the shower. I shudder, goosebumps racking through my body as I allow the water to wash away the grease and sweat, I collected today. I run a baby blue loofa over my skin, suds washing away with the now lukewarm stream. I close my eyes, and take a deep breath, and the smell of metallic rust from the old pipes fills my nostrils. 

Blood. So much blood. It covers my hands, and my knees, my face, and my clothes. I practically wade through a pool of it, the dark hallways of that god awful manor stretch on infinitely, and the smell of rot and decay suffocates my senses. My heart nearly beats out of my chest as his strong arms wrap around me as I collapse to the floor, and I'm hyper aware of the many motionless bodies lying at my feet. His lips brush against my neck, rough and wet, and I wonder if they have blood on them too. I wouldn’t put it past him. Malicious is not a word I thought I would ever use to describe my lover, the man I thought I was going to marry one day, but like many other things before, he proved me wrong. His warm hands caress the soft fat of my thighs, slipping underneath the loose fabric of my shorts, and he leans into my ear. “They’re all gone now… Let’s go take a shower.” 

I release a shaky breath and turn off the water, letting it drip from my head and down my face, mingling with salty tears. Wiping my face with my wet palms, which did nothing in retrospect, I sigh. I can’t go back there; I can never go back there. It isn’t safe anymore. He isn’t safe anymore. Come on, I can’t keep feeling bad for myself. This is ridiculous, and as I step out of the shower and dress myself, I feel a newfound sense of determination. Sleep, for the first time in months, finds me easily with her warm embrace. 

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

As most things in my life do, my high spirits came to an abrupt end. Smoke fills my lungs, but there's a strange taste to it. It’s not a fire, no, it was tobacco. A smell I was all too familiar with. I sat up in bed, and my eyes met the inky black eyes of his silver, skull mask. My breath catches in my throat, only for me to cough out the smoke from his cigarette.

He couldn’t have found me this easily. It’s a bad dream, it has to be. Merlin forgive me, God save me, tell me this is just a dream! The mask on his face shifts a little, clearly amused at my coughing fit. “Have anything to say?”

Say anything. Stop gaping at him like a fish, you are a powerful witch, almost top of your class in DADA. Almost. Second place, notably. Right behind him.

Mattheo Riddle.

A sob racks through my body, tears falling down my cheeks before I even realize, and I’m paralyzed in place. Half of me wants to crawl into his arms, to beg for forgiveness, to beg for him to take me home. Home to that wretched, dark house, with blood seeped into the wood. With blood-stained grout on the kitchen tile. With blood-stained walls. So, so much blood. The other half of me screams at me to run. To run, to run, run, run, RUN! For god's sake, run! 

I push myself out of bed, fast enough to catch Mattheo by surprise. He flicks his cigarette to the side, letting it roll along the carpet floor. My hand reaches for my wand resting on a table beside the door as I duck out of his reaching arms, and I stumble to my feet as he lunges after me. I throw open the door, pulling it shut in his face as he screams for me.

“You bitch! Come back here!” he screams through the wood, struggling with the now sweat-slick doorknob. 

The door splinters open with the blast of, “Bombarda!”, but I scramble down the wet, cold streets, my bare feet scratch against the rough pavement as I sprint, thankful that it had been just warm enough to not freeze. I duck down another street, pulling out my wand to apparate elsewhere. I rack my brain for a safe location. Hogwarts? I might be able to, but I don’t want to risk splinching. My job? It might separate me long enough to get my shit together. 

Air is knocked out of me as a heavy body slams into mine, knocking my wand out of my hand. A heavy, black boot pins my wrist to the ground, and a silver mask that was not Riddle’s leans over me. He laughs under the mask, but I can’t tell which of his mentally fucked goons had caught me. I reach for my wand, but another set of boots kicks it out of my reach. Leather gloved hands grab my hair and lift me up to face the group now circling me. 

“She looks pitiful, really. Like an angry kitten.” An Italian accent draws next to my ear with a mocking snicker, and I thrash to kick Theodore Nott anywhere I can, luckily landing a solid blow to his shin. He curses in pain, and hisses something inaudible underneath his mask as he throws me back to the ground. The rough concrete scratches against my exposed skin, drawing blood from the soft flesh. I yelp in pain, landing at the feet of someone else. A black, steel-toed boot presses against my cheek, pushing my head to the side as I watch another figure ominously approach. I would recognize my Mattheo’s casual amble anywhere, and he peered down at my stray wand laying at his feet.

I don’t even have time to protest as he steps his boot onto the wood, sparks fizzing out around the magic object as it snaps under his weight. A choked sob escapes me as he approaches, my eyes wide with horror and betrayal.

“Enough of this, love. It’s time to come home,” He drawls, kneeling down to my level and lifting my chin to meet his empty gaze. “Be a good girl and come back to me, I’m tired of this little game of yours.”

“Fuck. You.” I spat on the silver of his skull-like mask, noting the wild look in my own eyes as the saliva slips down its reflective surface.

Mattheo groaned and tugged off his mask, and my breath caught in my throat. What the hell is wrong with me? I can’t think this awful man who betrayed me, threatened me, hunted me down, can still be attractive. Then again, he was still the man I had loved–part of me still does love– all those years ago. The handsome face I fell asleep looking at, the doe eyes I found comfort in. He looked roguish now, his brown curls were longer than the last time I had seen him, and he had a new scar running across his cheek from our last encounter. My mouth goes dry as he leans into my face, his breath hot against my lips. 

“I’ve missed you, love,” He practically purred, pressing his dry lips against my trembling ones. I whine against him, wriggling my body underneath the heavy weight of whoever was holding me. 

Mattheo groaned, gripping my chin harder, “You used to be so obedient, pet, but don’t worry. I’ll fix you.” he mumbled, kissing my forehead as I felt his wand pressed to my temple. He mumbled an incantation against my skin, and I felt my body go limp before my eyes closed themselves, and sleep consumed me. 

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

It was cold, damp, and reeked of copper and mold. My body laid on the floor, sore and unresponsive to my will to move. As my senses came back to me, I tried climbing to my feet, but a chain tugged my ankle back to the floor. I tumbled to the stone floor, scraping my hands against its rough surface. I whimper in pain, and only as I go to wipe my hands on my pants do I realize I’m completely nude. Horror racks through my body as I take in my surrounding and own appearance. I know I'm back in that old house, that old, disgusting, horrible house of horrors, and tears fall from my stinging eyes again.

I don’t know how long I laid on that floor, shaking from the cold as I sob into the air, screaming and cursing with conviction, damning Riddle’s name to an eternity in hell. I scream, and wail, and cry until I tire myself out, my voice breaking into nothing but a hushed plea for freedom. 

I fight sleep, sitting myself against a wall near my chain, breathing deep into my burning lungs. My eyes drift closed, but I will them open as the loud creak of a door alerts me. It’s only then that I notice a stairwell, casted in a white light with the newly opened door, and my heart nervously skips a beat as a tall shadow approaches the stairwell. The stairs creak under his weight as he descends to what I can only infer is a basement, and I stare up at his form.

Mattheo wasn’t nearly as scary like this, dressed in black slacks and a loose white shirt. Had he not been so threatening, and the reason I was chained to the basement floor, I would have swooned over the top buttons being undone. Perhaps I still do get butterflies in my stomach, but that may just be nausea. 

He looks down at me with an expression I can only describe as mock sympathy, clicking his tongue softly. “Down here for less than three hours and you’ve already managed to hurt yourself,” he scolded me, shaking his head in disappointment, “My clumsy girl, what am I going to do with you?” 

The smile he cracked made me want to claw his eyes out, or kiss him, and I worry that he may have slipped me a love potion. My ears ring, and my head suddenly aches with a mild pain, and Mattheo smirks.

“Like the shirt, do you?” He teased, kneeling down to my level. I curse under my breath, face heating up with anger (Or embarrassment, I can’t really tell), of course I forget he’s a legilimens. “Drop the act darling, I know you’re going to crack eventually. Save us both the trouble so I can finally bring you back to bed.” His warm hand tenderly caressed my cold cheek, and I fought the urge to lean into the comforting touch. “I hate seeing you down here like this, but you need to remember your place.”

My eyes snap back to his, and I whip my head to the side to bite his hand. He scowls and rips his hand away, reeling it back and back-handing me across the face. It knocks my breath out of my chest, and the rings on his fingers cut my cheek. Metallic blood drips to the floor. 

“Fine. Stay down here and bleed out for all I care.” He snaps, rubbing his sore hand as he turns on his heel and storms up the stairs. The door slams loudly behind him, and I’m engulfed in sudden darkness.

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

My cheek and hands had long stopped bleeding the next time he came back, staining my skin red with its slick. My head lifts as the door opens again, and light makes my eyes dilate painfully. Mattheo trudges down the stairs, his head hanging low, and a small white box hanging from his hand. He approaches me and kneels at my level. I meet his gaze, glaring into his soft eyes.

“Darling, you know I didn’t mean to hit you, right?” He mumbled, holding my chin to twist my cheek towards him, his rough actions bringing tears to my eyes. “I was just so worked up, and you were pushing too many buttons, you’ll forgive me, right?” He asks hopefully, but I don’t answer him.

He sighs in defeat, opening the little box and retrieving a cloth and bottle full of a clear liquid. My eyes go wide, and I scramble backwards as far as the chain allows me to. “No, No, Mattheo please don’t-” I plead, heart racing as he looks at me with confusion.

A smile breaks across his face, “Oh darling, no, no, it’s just alcohol.” he laughs a bit, a deep sound that makes pleasant shivers run down my spine and too an embarrassing heat between my legs. What the fuck is wrong with me? He approaches me again, dousing the cloth with the solution before taking my hands. He shushes my soft whines as he presses it to my scraped palms, which makes me hiss at the burning sensation. “Good girl, there we go. That’s much better, isn’t it?” he asks as he takes a roll of gauze from the box and wraps each of my hands. He lifts my palms to his lips, pressing a storm of soft pecks and kisses to the gauze and skin. My face heats up at the gesture, and I force myself to look away. He was always so chivalrous for a monster, though it hurt to call him that even after everything.

He presses the cloth to my cheek next, his thumb tracing calming circles into the opposite cheek. “Such a pretty girl, my pretty girl.” He whispered, placing a bandage over my skin. Just like my palms, he kisses my cheek, though much slower and intimate this time. “I don’t want to hurt you, you know?” he promised, leaning over my trembling body. He looked down at me, eyes drifting past my collarbone, and he whistled softly. “A sight for sore eyes… and It’s all mine.” He smirked, leaning down as he supported his weight on his forearms. His chapped lips press suspiciously soft kisses to my neck. A loud thud coming from upstairs makes Mattheo groan and pull away. He looks down at me, wide eyed beneath him, “I’ll be right back, love, don’t worry your pretty little head.” He hummed, patting my cheek as he stood up. 

He casts me one last yearning glance before he shuts the door again, much softer this time. I lean back against the stone, releasing a breath I didn’t know I was holding, and try to ignore the wetness between my thighs as I drift off to sleep.

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

I’m startled awake as the basement door slams shut, and heavy footsteps descend to my prison. Mattheo storms into view, and before I can even get a word out, he grabs me by the hair and pulls me up to my knees. He sneers down at me, and my head is spinning from the sudden switch up.

“Incompetent assholes. Have to do everything myself around here,” He mumbled, not really speaking to me rather than himself. He doesn’t loosen his grip on my hair as his other hand tugs apart the button of his slacks. 

My eyes go wide with shock, and he pulls my hair, forcing my chin up to look at him. “Open your mouth,” He demands, his voice lacking his previous warmth, and I'm reminded that this is not my Matty. My lip quivers and I shake my head slightly. Mattheo pulls his half-hard cock from the confines of his black briefs and pulls me by the hair to his tip. “I don’t have time for this attitude, I said open your mouth.”

I don’t even have a moment to react before his leaking tip is pressed against my mouth. He pushes his way past, groaning as my wet lips engulf his mushroomed tip. He pulls on my hair again, forcing himself further into my warm hole. “There you go, not so hard, was it? Now suck.” He orders in a tone I’ve never heard him use in bed before, and as he bucks his hips towards my face, I whine in protest while the ache returns to my lower stomach. My jaw relaxes on its own, familiar with the girth of his hung cock. An almost inaudible whine slips through my throat, and he groans at the tightness. One more tug lets me know his patience is running thin, and I reach my bandaged hand up to stroke the rest of him while I focus on his tip.

Mattheo bites back a moan, his hips stuttering as I descend further down onto his length. His leaky tip presses against the back of my throat, and he holds my head in place while he rocks his hips further into me. My nose presses against his groin as he slips down the back of my throat, and his grip moves from my hair to my throat, feeling my neck bulge with every movement. Saliva drips past him and down my chin, dribbling to the floor in thick droplets. He shudders as my throat tightens around him, nearly swallowing the head. 

“Yeah, yeah… Fuck baby. Keep going for me, almost there,” He mumbles, rocking his hips faster than before. I whine around him, my own hand slipping down to the ache at my core. My fingers gingerly brush against my clit, and the soft moan I try to let out makes Mattheo’s head roll back. Hot spurts of his seed shoot down my throat and my glossy eyes go wide at the feeling.

“Swallow,” Is all he says, and obediently, I do. He pulls my head off of him, his cum mixing with the drool in my mouth when it drips down my chin. He grips my face between his index finger and thumb, collecting the mess with a swipe of his finger and pushing it back into my sore mouth. “All of it.” 

When I satisfied him, he pushed me back to the ground, and I yelped in pain as I collided against the stone surface. “When I come down here, I want you on your knees waiting for my dick. Understand?”

I nod weakly, and he smirks down at me. “Good girl. Keep it up and maybe I’ll bring you back upstairs.” He says, before pulling back up his pants and running a hand through his hair. 

When he leaves again, I’m left with an unbearable, wet mess.

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

With nothing else to do in my makeshift prison, I sleep a lot. And when I wake up, I force myself to sleep again. I sleep God knows how long before the door opens again, and Mattheo trudges down the stairs. I scramble to my knees, honestly fearing what might happen if I disobey him, and when Mattheo catches sight of me, he smiles. 

“There’s my pretty girl.” He hums, holding a platter with a bowl of something steaming, a slice of some sort of bread, and a bottle of water. My stomach growls as its divine aroma fills my senses, and I can’t remember the last time I’ve eaten. 

Mattheo sits down in front of me and puts the tray between up. He rests his elbow on his knee and leans into his palm. “Eat,” he orders me, gesturing to the platter with the wave of his free hand. “Or would you prefer I feed you myself?” He asks with a smirk, watching how I shift from my knees to rest on my hip. I grab the water bottle first, chugging half of it in one go, before I subconsciously offer him a sip. What’s mine is his. Was his. Was. I look up at him, taking the water and sipping from it. I tore my gaze away before he noticed.

“I don’t want to stay in the basement anymore,” I mumble, dipping the bread into the soup before taking a bite, shivering at its deliciousness. Mattheo sighed and shook his head. “You know I can’t do that yet. You ran away, darling. I can’t trust you won’t do that again,” He explained, reaching his hand across the way to rub my knee soothingly. I sigh and push the tray away, my appetite gone. Mattheo frowned and moved the tray away, leaning over me. “Princess, c’mon, don’t be this way.” he hummed, pushing me onto my back. My heart rate quickened, and he definitely noticed. “But you’re right. I’ve been neglecting you… That’s why you ran away right? My poor girl was lonely and scared.” he hummed, pressing his lips to my collar bone. “Not anymore. My attention is solely on you, I promise.” 

My head rolled back a little, lolling onto the floor as he trailed his kisses down my sternum, stopping at my breasts to gently knead them. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach as I reached for his hair, tugging gently on his loose curls. He groaned in response, his lips finding my perked nipple and taking it into his warm mouth. His other hand slipped down my soft stomach, dipping between my thighs. Out of reflex, I squeezed them together, and Mattheo parted from my tit. He sat back on his haunches, using his strong, scarred hands to pull apart my thighs and admire my glistening, needy cunt.

“It’s been all about me, huh? Need to show my girls some love.” He mumbled, before dipping his head down. His warm breath fanned across my puffy lips, and I shivered at the breeze. He didn’t waste a second more, drawing a long, needy moan from my lips as he licked a long strip from my hole to my clit. My hands tangle into his hair again, and my mouth falls open with pleasure. “Fuck, Matty–” the nickname fell from my lips without a second thought, and he practically purrs against me. His hands grip my thighs, pulling them over his shoulders as he dives nose deep into my pussy. My back arches off the floor as a string of curses flies from my lips. I feel his wet appendage push against my hole, and I clench at the feeling as his nose brushes against my sensitive bud. I tug on his hair again, “Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!” I mewl, my edge fast approaching as Mattheo swirls his tongue over my clit. He sloppily makes out with my lower lips, pulling me closer to the edge with each passing second, and I’m in near tears when there's a loud crash up above us. 

Mattheo practically roars in anger, pulling his soaked face away from my aching cunt, the knot in my stomach loosening at the sudden separation. I whine and sit up, trying to pull him back down, but he stops me with a firm hold on my wrist. “Stay here and don’t make a sound.” he ordered, “I need to take care of this, and I promise as soon as I’m done, I’ll come right back.”

Anger flashes through me, and I bite back my cries. “Don’t you dare leave me like this, Riddle.” I snap, and he gives me a warning look that makes goosebumps prick at my skin. He leans in, pressing a wet kiss to my lips, and I can feel him shiver as I lick my own arousal from his lips. “I’ll be right back, princess. Be good for me, and we can talk about a reward.”

And with that, he left yet again.

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

I was starting to get sick of his mind games, switching up his attitude, finally giving me relief before ripping it away from me. Fuck. What am I saying? I watched him murder dozens of people; I watched lives being taken right in front of me. I shiver at the memory and try to focus on anything else before it becomes too much to bear. 

I hate how he makes me feel. Sometimes he’s my Mattheo, and sometimes he’s nothing but a parasite attached to a face I can’t help but love. My back hits a wall, and I can’t count how long he’s been gone. I miss his warm, familiar touch, but anything was better than the cold, dark basement. I close my eyes, my lip trembling as I reach my hand down, fingers hesitantly spreading my folds. Cold air hit my wet lips, and I gasp at the feeling. I brush my fingertips against my hole, whining softly at the pleasure that coursed through my body. Maybe I'm sick in the head, maybe I hit my head too hard one day on the run and never recovered. Maybe I never really hated Mattheo. 

What is wrong with me?

I don’t move when the door opens again. I glare at him, anger coursing through my veins. This was not ‘right back’. As Mattheo’s black boot lands on the stone floor, my mouth goes dry. He’s weaning that stupid mask again, and that stupid costume, tilting his head stupidly at me. He approaches me in a way that makes my heart race in fear, like I'm nothing but cowardly prey between the jaws of a large wolf. 

He knees down, retrieving his hand from his pocket. Wordlessly, he unlocks the chain around my ankle, and he looks up at me. With another wave of his wand, I’m dressed in a loose tank top and shorts. It’s not much at all, but it’s better than naked. A rush of emotions rushes through my chest, and I almost gratefully throw my arms around Mattheo, but he stops me. 

“Go. Run,” He orders, stepping aside. I stare up at him in confusion, mounted to my spot on the ground. “I said run, little pet, like you want to.” He pulls me from the ground, pressing my cold body up against his comforting warmth. “Run, and if I catch you,” he leaned down into my ear, and through the skull mouth of his mask I could feel his breath fanning across my ear. “Well, I think you know what’s going to happen.”

I still don’t move, wondering if he would be less harsh if I stayed with him, but he only laughed. “Such a good girl, don’t worry,” he pulled his mask up just enough to expose his pearly white teeth. They sunk into the soft flesh just beneath my ear, “I’ll always find you. Go, now.”

I don’t know what possessed me, but my feet started moving on their own. I raced up the stairs of the basement and pushed past the door. The house was just as I remembered, dark with walls that were too tall, black cloths hung over the complaining portraits. I was disoriented in the dark, but my feet carried me through the house until I found the overtly large entrance. I pushed open the doors and ran out into the cold, snowy night. 

Frost nipped at each of my limps, and my lungs found it harder to breathe the frigid air. I ran anyway, out towards the woods surrounding the manor. I cast a glance over my shoulder, finding Mattheo staring back at me through the blacked-out eyes of his mask. I ducked into the tree line, just as he started his casual stroll towards me. Cocky bastard. 

I run for as long as I can before my lungs give out. I leaned against a tree, walking slowly into a clearing. I take a deep breath, pulling my arms behind my head to breathe deeper. Just as I find a moment of peace, a branch snaps behind me. I whip my head around, my heart racing as Mattheo approaches me. He doesn’t run, only walks towards me with his hands stuffed into his pockets. He ditched that awful mask, and I can see the smirk pulling at the edge of his lips. I stumble backwards, falling into the fresh snow. He continues his pace, unbothered by my racing heart as I scramble away from him and finally back to my feet. I don’t get one leg in front of the other before strong arms are wrapped around my waist, slipping under the loose fabric of my shirt.

“I win,” He mumbles in my ear, voice dark and raspy. It sends a chill down my spine that pools in my underwear. 

Mattheo throws me over his shoulder, ignoring my flailing lips as he walks back to the manor. “Didn’t even get a mile, love. Lost your talent it seems, or maybe you knew you’d miss me too much.” he teased, running his warm hands up my thigh, pressing a kiss to my exposed skin. 

It isn’t long before we’re back at the manor, and I thank every god I'm in good ties with when he walks past the basement. He takes me to his room instead, our room, the room where I've fallen apart under his touch more times than I can count. 

I breathe in his familiar scent as he deposits me on the bed, and I roll over to bury my burning face in the pillows. Mattheo chuckles at me and grabs my hips, pulling me back against him as he grinds his hardening bulge against the plushness of my ass. 

“You’ve been extra obedient, haven’t you?” he asked, his voice dripping with a tone I could quite place. Lust? Possession? Love? It all blurred together as he rutted his hips against me. “Good girls deserve a reward, don’t they?” he asked, before hooking his fingers at the hem of my shorts. He pulled them down to expose my glistening cunt. He spread me out along his fingers, admiring the way my pussy pulsed around nothing. He leaned in, pressing a possessive kiss to my clit, holding my hips as I try to buck away from him. 

His warm fingers trace along my thighs, sleeping between my legs and collecting the arousal that pooled there. I release a shaky breath into the pillow as his finger circles my clit, and I arch my back to present myself further. He hums in appreciation, trailing his finger further up to my dripping hole, slowly pushing his middle finger inside of me. I gasp at the intrusion, not being able to remember the last time something so long had been inside of me. I keen under his touch, gripping the sheets for stability as he slowly pumps his finger in and out of me. A moan escapes me as he curls his finger, and his thumb brushes against my needy pearl again. Mattheo adds a second finger, spreading out my tight, gummy walls. I crumble under his touch, mouth falling open and eyes going half lidded as he pulls his fingers from me. 

I hear him dropping his pants, and the bed dips behind me yet again as he leans his body completely over mine. His arm wraps around my neck, pressing me close to his chest while his breath fans across my face. The tip of his cock presses against me, and I whine at the sensation, pushing my hips back against him.

“Needy girl, thought you didn’t need me anymore.” He teased, pushing just the bulbous tip into my hole. It’s enough to make the knot in my stomach tighten, and I shake my head. “Need you, Matty, Need you so bad.” I admit, face flushed with embarrassment as he smirks. “Gonna run away again?”

He doesn’t let me get an answer out before he’s pressing further inside of me, the stretch burning pleasantly while my eyes roll back. His arm around my throat tightens, “I asked you a question, darling.” He teased, licking away the stray tear that fell from my eyes. I gasp as his cock brushes against a gummy bundle of nerves, and my head drops to the pillows. He tugs me back against him, pushing even further until he balls slapped against me. “No! No, never gonna leave again,” I promised, involuntary whines spilling from my throat. 

Mattheo pulls his hips back before drilling them back into me, “Good girl,” He grins as he sets a punishing pace, watching my face contort into pleasure underneath him. “Who owns you?” he asks, and I push back against his hips desperately. “You! You do, God, you do!” I moan, feeling my head go light from the lack of airflow. 

“God isn’t here, Love, It’s just me now.”

He drills into my pulsating hole, my back arching at his every thrust as my brain goes mushy from the pleasure. The arm around my throat pulls away, slipping down my stomach to find my pearl. His fingers are just as fast as his pace, and I can’t fight back the whorish moans in my throat. His lips attach to my shoulder, biting a possessive mark into my skin as he fucks me good, better than he ever had before. 

Tears fall from my eyes, and my hand grips his desperately as I’m worked to my edge. “Matty, Matty please…” I trail off into a string of moans, and Mattheo adjusts himself behind me. He bucks his hips into me once more, and I fall apart all over him. My pussy flutters around his cock, and he rides out my orgasm with a few last thrusts of his hips, before he spills his hot seed deep into my womb. Mattheo collapses on top of me, still deep inside as he pins my body to the bed. He hums into my neck, burying himself in my skin. 

“That’s my good girl. Let’s go take a shower.”

[gingerteafairy]

girl never stop writing todd haynes fics im obsessed. esp 'third wheel payback' soso good i love a comic reader fic <3

funny you say that right as i was finishing this one hssowiejsnsk wrote it after seeing an adorable edit of todd with every man gets his wish by lana del rey on tiktok and i religiously saw it everyday multiple times ❤️‍🩹

spiderman milkshake (todd haynes x reader)

Who said comics can't help on a date?

tags n warnings: smut/mdni, waitress!reader, comic references, language, fingering, dry humping, kinks. word count: 4.3k masterlist

Todd was practically glued to his milkshake, sucking on the straw like it was some kind of life-sustaining multivitamin when he saw you walk by, effortlessly balancing a tray while tending to the tables. You looked adorable in that waitress uniform. Atomic Comics was his favorite place in the world—his friends, comic books, and a gorgeous nerdy waitress all in one spot. He could swear he saw you wearing a Venom T-shirt before you put on your uniform, matching with his Spiderman one.

Dave and Marty were deep in conversation, but Todd? He was somewhere else entirely—lost in his own world. Or, more accurately, lost in New York City, spideyvenom was getting really interesting right now.

"And like I was saying, Spider-Man’s powers are total garbage," Dave argued, popping a fry into his mouth. "I mean, web-shooting? That’s disgusting. Right, Todd?"

"Huh? Yeah. Totally." Todd replied absentmindedly, taking another sip.

"No way, and I can prove it! Webs are a hit! Just look at how he shoots them," Marty insisted, mimicking Spider-Man's signature hand gesture while making web-slinging sound effects. Dave immediately joined in.

Their laughter faded when they noticed Todd wasn’t reacting at all. He hadn’t moved a muscle. Following his gaze, they landed on you—standing a few feet away, scribbling an order onto your notepad.

Todd was mesmerized. The way you absentmindedly tucked the pen behind your ear, how your hair brushed against your neck, the delicate earring dangling just beneath—it was adorable. He wished he had given you that earring himself.

"I’m telling you, man. You should just talk to her. That’s your second milkshake," Dave pointed out, growing tired of watching Todd’s thousand-yard stare.

"Yeah, dude. This is getting kinda creepy," Marty added, raising an eyebrow.

Truth be told, Todd had known you way before his friends ever did.

He had once posted an insanely cool Justice League edit, and you had actually commented on it. That one reply had somehow turned into a full-on conversation, which then turned into many conversations. And before Todd even knew what hit him, he was completely, hopelessly into you.

The moment you casually mentioned that you read manga too? Yeah. That was it. Game over.

Even if you both chatted online everyday, seeing you in person was a completely different experience. It was like you were strangers all over again. Part of that was because Todd was horrifically shy and couldn’t even look you in the eyes without feeling like his soul was going to physically leave his body. The other part? Well… you were a waitress.

For some reason, that made it feel… wrong.

Like he fantasized a lot, basically a porn movie plot, you coming only on a apron saying "hey, sweetie, here's your milkshake" in an exaggerated sultry voice as you took the piece off. If a hacker could see his browsing history, they would see that 50% of waitress kink videos visualizations came from Todd's PC.

But as a normal shy guy, he was afraid of bothering you. Like you were only talking to him because it was literally your job. And, of course, there was also the massive fear that Dave and Marty would say something stupid and completely humiliate him.

Because, let’s be real—they absolutely would.

Dave exchanged a knowing glance with Marty—silently forming a plan. "Hey, waitress!" He suddenly called out.

Todd’s eyes widened in panic. "No! No, no, no—what the fuck am I supposed to say to her?"

"Order another milkshake," Marty snickered.

Todd ran a shaky hand through his hair, clearly freaking out as he saw you glance in their direction before heading toward their table.

"Oh, shit. Oh, shit—she’s coming!" His voice barely came out as he scrambled for an escape, gulping down his milkshake like his life depended on it.

"How can I help?" you greeted with a warm smile, the sunlight from the window behind you making you look even more radiant. Then, your gaze landed on Todd. "Hey, Todd. The usual?"

"Me?" Todd blurted out, his voice cracking slightly. He turned to his friends, who looked just as amused as they were surprised.

"Yeah… milkshake. I know you like it—you always get the same thing," you beamed casually, already flipping open your notepad.

"Uh… I… can I…" Todd stumbled over his words. Oh my God, she knows what I like. His brain was short-circuiting. "I wanna buy you a milkshake."

You let out a soft laugh, pulling the pen from behind your ear and jotting something down. "I’m gonna serve you a big slice of ‘never do that again,’ okay?"

You replied, folding the piece of paper and placing it near his hand before walking away. Todd stared at you, utterly devastated. His soul left his body.

"Oof, dude… that was rough," Dave cringed, physically recoiling from secondhand embarrassment.

"Yeah, I kinda saw that one coming," Todd muttered, hesitantly unfolding the note—fully expecting his official rejection letter, his eyes widened.

"Oh. My. God."

"What?!" Dave and Marty leaned in at the same time. Todd slowly turned the paper around.

"I’m off at 5. XOXO."

"XOXO?" Dave repeated, snatching the paper.

"It means hugs and kisses, dumbass," Marty rolled his eyes, taking it from him to inspect the handwriting. Before he could analyze further, Todd swiped back his sacred treasure.

"I dunno… think I won’t go," Todd murmured, pouting dramatically.

"Wait, wait, wait. You're gonna chicken out now that she actually showed interest?" Marty hissed in disbelief.

"I don’t know, man… She’s perfect. And I’m just… this." Todd gestured vaguely to himself. He sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping as he absentmindedly reached for his milkshake straw—only to find nothing there.

"Hey, man. Don’t be like that," Marty said, giving him a reassuring pat on the back. "If she’s into you, that means there’s gotta be something cool about you."

"Yeah, Todd. You’re a cool guy, the smartest one out of the three of us. You’ll do great," Dave reassured him, flashing a confident smile.

Todd let out a weak laugh, barely processing the words as he glanced at you. His heart skipped a beat when you turned and met his gaze, smiling at him like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Was this what cardiac arrest felt like?

"Yeah… it’s gonna be great," he mumbled, his lips stretching into a dumb, lopsided grin. Every ounce of self-doubt vanished. That smile of yours? That was all he needed today.

Marty and Dave, sensing the gravity of the situation, made sure to stay with him until the very last minutes of your shift. They cracked jokes, debated superhero fights, and did their best to keep Todd from imploding. And for a while, it worked—until the clock ticked closer to 5 PM.

Todd felt it before he saw it—the rush of oh-no-oh-no-it’s-happening panic settling in his bones. His palms grew clammy as he watched you disappear into the employee break room. His foot tapped against the floor rapidly.

Dave, immediately noticing, snapped his fingers in front of Todd’s face. "Alright, dude. Focus up. Take this."

Todd blinked as Dave dropped a stick of gum into his hand. "Do I have bad breath?"

"No… but trust me, mint gum is a game changer. Chicks love it."

Marty, standing beside them, shoved his hands into his pockets and casually pulled out five more sticks of mint gum. Todd and Dave stared at him like he had just pulled out five engagement rings.

"What?" Marty blinked. "I like to be prepared."

"As if you’re kissing that many people," Dave snorted.

Marty rolled his eyes and flipped him off. "I am a romance expert, okay? I’m the best at Romance Simulator, and I’ve picked up a ton of tips—"

"Oh yeah, great example, Marty," Dave cut in.

"Hey! Those games are super realistic!" Marty huffed, popping a piece of gum into his mouth. "I even have a girlfriend in one of them."

"The only girlfriend you’re ever getting," Dave snickered.

Todd, however, wasn’t listening anymore. His brain had short-circuited the moment he saw you step out of the break room, adjusting your bag strap as you waved goodbye to your coworkers.

"Guys, she’s coming," he whisper-hissed, suddenly shoving them aside. Panic took over. "How do I look? Am i stinking?"

Before anyone could react, Todd lifted his arm toward Marty. Marty recoiled like a cat sprayed with water. "DUDE. I’m not smelling you."

"Come on, please! I don’t even know if I put on cologne—Dave!" Todd pleaded desperately, his eyes wide with silent help me energy. Dave just shook his head, holding back a laugh.

"You ready?" Your voice rang out, bright and casual, like you hadn’t just sent Todd spiraling into a crisis. His body moved before his brain could, immediately slamming his arm down and scrambling to his feet.

"Of course! Let’s go!" he blurted out, way too enthusiastic, wiping his sweaty hands on his jeans like that would magically solve the problem.

But when he finally looked at you—saw the soft amusement in your eyes, the way your lips twitched like you were holding back a laugh—his nerves settled just a little bit.

You both stepped out of the store, and Todd could not stop staring. He had never seen you in casual clothes before.

The skirt? Adorable. That black Venom t-shirt? Perfect. The way it fit on you? Dangerous. You turned to face him, the soft scent of your hair hit him like a gentle, but highly effective truck.

"Finally worked up the courage to talk to me, huh? I was starting to think you were embarrassed of me," you teased, laughing.

"Embarrassed of you? Jesus, it’s more like the opposite," he blurted out, rubbing the back of his neck. The warm, bubbly feeling in his chest only grew when you laughed at his joke.

"So why didn’t you ever talk to me?" you asked, genuinely curious. First things first, let’s be honest here.

You were just as into Todd as he was into you.

There was something about him that was so effortlessly adorable. The way he always ordered a milkshake, sipping on it like it was the best thing in the world. You made sure to take your sweet time preparing it just right—just so you could see that little happy smile he made when he took the first sip.

Todd was the kind of guy who made you giggle and kick your feet on your bed, cheeks burning at just the thought of him.

And the fact that he had zero clue about the effect he had on you? It almost made you feel like some kind of stalker. Casually texting him every day just to keep the conversation going. Catching yourself wishing you were his milkshake straw, quenching his thirst, around his rosy wet lips. Oh, the tongue—

Todd, completely unaware of all of this, was busy trying not to combust.

"I just… I thought you’d be embarrassed of me because, well… I'm—" He exhaled, hesitating, hoping you’d finish the sentence for him.

Loser, his brain supplied helpfully. Instead, you smiled and said, "Shy?"

Todd blinked. That was not the word he expected.

You—beautiful, funny, way-too-cool-for-him—were looking at him with zero judgment. Just patience. Just kindness. He was sure you're going to heaven when you died.

"Yeah… I guess," he mumbled, scratching the back of his head. "Sorry about that."

"no, I'm the one that should be apologizing," you cooed, sighing. "Sorry about the dump, i was kinda angry with you. I was starting to think you hated me and I don't know, ghosting."

"No, shit. Sorry," he whined, feeling like an ass to make you feel like this. "From now on, i'll talk to you every time I see you. Promise."

"Deal. Hey, do you remember that new Marvel issue I told you about?" you asked, smoothly changing the subject.

Todd nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Yeah! It’s great. Why?"

"I bought it. It’s at my place. Wanna come see?"

Todd’s brain immediately shut down. His mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again.

Processing… Processing… ERROR: BRAIN NOT FOUND.

"I… uh… one sec! I forgot something back in the store," Todd blurted out, laughing way too weirdly before bolting back inside.

He skidded to a stop at the table where Dave and Marty were still sitting, slamming his hands down on it like he was in some kind of action movie. "Date over already?" Dave questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"SHE WANTS ME TO GO TO HER HOUSE," Todd announced, not breathing, before grabbing Dave’s soda and chugging it.

"And what the hell are you waiting for? Go before he changes her mind! You don't have many options," Marty urged, while Dave yanked his soda back, dramatically wiping the rim before taking another sip.

"But I don’t know what to do! It’s not a date! She just mentioned something about a new Marvel issue," Todd gasped, heart pounding, his body already covered in stress sweat.

Dave and Marty exchanged a look. Marty was the first to speak, grinning. "That’s a code."

"That’s 100% a code," Dave agreed.

Todd blinked. "A code? The hell you talking about?" He whispered like a true paranoid man, glancing out the window to make sure you weren’t listening. Luckily, you were distracted on your phone.

"Okay, Todd. Tell me when the new Marvel issue actually comes out," Dave prompted, crossing his arms.

"March 23rd. Why?" Todd replied, even more confused.

"And what’s today’s date?"

"Hmmm, lemme think. Okay, I know. March 19th, but what does that have to—" Todd froze. His brain short-circuited. His eyes went huge. "Oh my God. It’s a code."

"It’s a code," they both confirmed, nodding like wise sages.

The realization hit Todd so hard that all three of them jumped up in celebration—only to immediately sit back down when everyone in the store looked at them like they were insane.

"Shit. I gotta go. Bye!" Todd practically sprinted away.

"Crack that code wide open, Todd!" Dave called after him, laughing as Todd flipped him off on his way out.

“Hey, man,” Marty called, stopping Todd, gesturing him to come closer and whisper. “Spiderman hands, you hear me?”

“What the—”

“Just do it,” he insisted and Todd frowned, realization coming when he did the gesture himself. “You see?”

“Got it. Thanks, dude,” he beamed, training with his both hands. You never know when you have to use your non dominant hand.

“And when you do it down there…” He continued, hands on his face to cover the gesture. “Venom tongue. Flash movements.”

“Damn, Marty. You're a fucking Wikipedia,” he grinned, keeping the information on his head. “Do the sage has more advices to this poor mortal?”

“Oh, i got one,” Dave standed, joining the conversation. “If she looks at your lips, don't chicken out. One more thing, mimic her lips, that way you won't mess your first kiss.”

“What? I had my first kiss.” He murmured blushing.

“Seriously, dude?” Marty mocked, giving an exaggerated eye roll. While Todd was still inside, you whipped out your phone and immediately typed into the group chat.

You: Girls, seriously. I’m with him.

Erika: Who??

You: Todd Haynes!!!!

Katie: OH MY GODDD

You: I’m so nervous, Idk what to do.

Erika: Apron. Wear it.

You: For what?

Erika: You’ll understand.

Katie: You got this, girl. You’re amazing.

Erika: Get him pregnant

You snorted at your friends’ chaotic but heartfelt encouragement, quickly locking your phone the second you saw Todd skidded back up to you, barely keeping it together.

"I’m back! I, uh, forgot… my keys," he explained, shaking them a little to prove it.

"I forget mine all the time. So… ready to go?"

He nodded so fast it was almost embarrassing.As you walked, Todd felt like he was floating. Your house was close to the store, and when you stepped inside, Todd couldn’t help but drink in his surroundings. It was small, but cozy—just like you.

He wanted to be cool about it. Casual. Normal. So, naturally, he started copying every single thing you did like some kind of socially awkward robot.

You took off your jacket? Boom. Jacket off. You took off your shoes and put them neatly on the shoe rack? Guess what? Todd was doing that too.

Smooth. Totally natural.

"So…" you started, taking a step closer to him. "What do you want?"

Todd choked on absolutely nothing and immediately backed up a step. Oh God. She moves fast. Is it happening? Is this it? Shit, I don't have any condoms here.

"W-What do you mean?" he stammered, hands awkwardly hovering at his sides.

You let out a soft laugh, but internally, you were screaming. Come on, Todd. Pick up the hints. Please just kiss me already.

"Do you wanna check out the comic or do something else first?" you clarified, hoping he’d catch the very obvious subtext.

Unfortunately, you were dealing with Todd Haynes—a man who had never been close to a woman that wasn’t his own mother. Todd, however, was trying to trust his instincts—and the questionable advice of his friends. With a burst of sudden confidence, he reached into his pocket and pulled out two pieces of gum.

"Wanna… gum?" he offered timidly.

You blinked. "Do I have bad breath?" you asked, suddenly self-conscious.

At that exact moment, Todd mentally began digging his own grave and jumping inside with a cheap bouquet. Dave crying looking at the rainy sky and Marty singing Love Hurts on his grave. R.I.P. Todd Haynes, the biggest coward to ever exist.

"NO. Oh my God. Fuck, no," he panicked, his words tripping over each other. "You smell… really good. Like, so good. I—uh. Shit. That sounded weird. I just—ugh, I shouldn’t have—sorry, I don’t know why I did that—"

Mid-breakdown, Todd shoved the gum back into his pocket and rocked back and forth on his heels, suffocating in the crushing weight of the awkward silence. You thought fast. You weren’t about to let this moment die, remembering the apron tip.

"Hey," you chirped, forcing casual confidence. "How about I cook for us?"

You turned toward the kitchen, heart pounding, silently praying the pots and pans would swallow you whole to spare you from the embarrassment.

Todd perked up immediately. "Yes! Yes, absolutely. I love everything you make," he rushed out, practically jogging after you before settling into a chair—the perfect spot to admire you while you cooked. You tied on an apron, completely unaware of the effect it had on Todd, who sat there, staring in silent awe.

"Wow."

You turned. "What?"

"Nothing!" he blurted, immediately crossing his arms like it would somehow make him look cooler and less flustered.

"Okay," you muttered, shaking your head as you turned to rummage through the cabinets. Erika was right, you’d definitely thank her. You stretched up on your tiptoes, but—unfortunately—your genius past self had placed the glasses way too high.

"Damn it…" you muttered.

Todd immediately jumped up. "I got it!"

He reached past you, his height making the task effortless—and for the first time, you actually registered how much taller he was than you.

"What do you need?" he asked, voice much closer than you expected.

"Uh…" You blinked up at him, suddenly feeling a little flustered yourself. "The glass cups. I, uh… accidentally put them super high."

Todd grabbed them easily, handing them over with a small, proud smile—totally unaware that his casual helpfulness had just made your heart skip a beat. He carefully set the two glasses down on the counter. You bit your cheek, your gaze meeting his—and lingering just a little too long.

The air between you suddenly felt thicker, heavier. His eyes flickered to your lips, and your breath hitched as you instinctively did the same. When you looked back up, his gaze was still there, locked on your mouth like it held the secrets of the universe.

Okay. Enough was enough.

Before your nerves could get the best of you, you moved, your fingers lightly brushing over his hand. Todd stiffened at first—face heating from the tiny touch—but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he exhaled sharply as he let his palm travel up to your cheek, hesitating for half a second before finally leaning in, closing the gap between you.

The second your lips met, you melted. Without thinking, your arms flew up, wrapping around his neck as you deepened the kiss—half in excitement, half to make sure he didn’t chicken out.

Todd, on the other hand, was very much spiraling.

Oh my God. Oh my God. I am kissing her. This is happening. She’s kissing me back. This is—

His brain short-circuited before defaulting to its best coping mechanism—imitation. Todd mimicked your lips movements, following your lead, and shockingly it worked. His hands instinctively gripped your waist, pulling you in closer.

And then, without really thinking, he tilted his head, stepping forward just enough to press you gently against the counter. It was official.

Todd Haynes had zero idea what he was doing. But somehow, it was going very, very well.

He moaned when your hands reached his hair, anchoring on his frame, he sucked your bottom lip like his life depended on it, he kissed hungrily. It was hot. So freaking hot, you were losing your mind, loving how he changed about it and just devoured you.

Everything was so good that he almost forgot about his cock pulsating inside his jeans. He pushed back, eyes wide as he looked down to the tent, eyes up to meet your mouth swollen, three tones redder and a huge teeth mark as the cherry on top.

“Fuck, I'm so sorry,” he whimpered, embarrassed with his hormones controlling his brain. “It’s just— I have no fucking idea of what I'm doing, but it's so good.”

“Yeah, it's really good,” you encouraged, coming closer, chests touching as you leaned to kiss him, slightly opening your legs, him entering the small gap you conceded.

The kiss was slower, more sensual. He was a fast learner, holding back on the vacuum-like sucking, concentrating on gentle nips. He pushed back, eyes closed.

“Is it better?” He muttered, ghosting his lips over yours.

“Yeah, but I think this would be better,” you breathed, taking his hand and directioning them to your lower belly, guiding him to your panties.

He gulped, nodding, opening his eyes to see you rolling your skirt up, giving him a sight of your panties. Todd Haynes was too stunned to speak. He just moved his hand to touch the covered spot, almost flicking his hand back when he felt you shivering.

“You can touch directly if you want to,” you suggested like you weren't the one dying of embarrassment.

Todd sighed. Spider-Man hands. He remembered when he pushed your panties down and patted his fingertip on your clit, watching your reaction. He gulped at you and looked at him with doe eyes begging to be touched. He wouldn't deny it, so he gently rubbed your clit, licking his lips, dying to feel your taste on them.

“Yeah, you're—pretty good, Todd,” you purred, your sounds making his head blurred, focused on your cunt getting wetter and wetter.

“Is it?” His eyes lit up, going down at your slit to collect more liquid and keep the stroking on your spot.

“Uh-huh,” you nodded, spreading your legs wider. Todd's chest rose and fell rapidly, increasing the rhythm until he successfully inserted his middle finger inside. “Fuck.”

He froze his finger, searching your eyes to check if he did something wrong, but your flushed face, so beautiful biting your lip as your hips longed for his finger said the opposite. He was doing really good.

Encouraged by your lewd expression, he joined his ring finger inside, setting a pace by the reactions you were making.

“Faster, Todd,” you pleaded, grinding on his fingers. He couldn't even believe, looking down, seeing his fingers glistening in and out, disappearing on your cunt sucking them, your walls clenching around them, he was panting.

“Like this?” He asked in a whimpery voice, doing what you needed. He searched for your lips, brushing them as he heard the wet sound of your pussy.

You grasped his biceps, feeling the knot forming on your lower belly as you purred and whined on the kiss. Todd started to breathe faster, grinding on your thigh, his free hand palming your ass.

“Todd, I'm cumming,” you mewled, coming undone on his fingers, legs shivering as he held you in place, preventing you from falling down. He kept fingering you til he opened his mouth, shutting his eyes and throwing his head back, swaying his hips on your thigh.

He groaned, taking off his fingers from you and directioning it to his mouth, sucking your arousal. He hummed, looking back at you panting, hands gripping on the counter.

“You taste better than milkshakes,” he shyly added, planting an adorable peck on your lips.

“You're so cute,” you giggled, pecking him back. You weren't done, your hunger for Todd might never end. He was just so damn irresistible. “Hey… do you wanna, like… continue this?”

“Oh… uhmm…” He stammered, his nose doing the little frown you find cute. “We have to wait a little.”

“Why?” You pouted, tilting your head.

“Why?” He echoed, thinking about all the manners of saying the obvious, choosing to say it straight. “I came.”

You grinned, giggling at him getting beet-red. “Hey, don't worry about it. We can eat something while your body reacts.”

“Can i eat you?” He blurted, suddenly digging courage from the bottom of his heart.

You blushed, nodding, too shy to say something. He grinned, kneeling on the floor. “Hey, don't you wanna go to my room? It might be uncomfortable for you.”

“It's just…” he began, tilting his head up to meet your gaze, warm breath next to your cunt. “I kinda fantasize a lot about eating you out in the kitchen.”

“Really?” You panted, hands making their way to his head.

“Yeah,” he replied, licking his lips in anticipation. Venom tongue. Flash speed. “The apron is a bonus.”

That night, you finally lived your dream—becoming Todd’s milkshake straw in the best way possible. And Todd? He finally mustered up the courage to take a real chance on you.

You spent the rest of the evening wrapped up in each other, sharing a blanket that neither of you really needed. Your legs brushed. Your fingers tangled absentmindedly. Every now and then, Todd would steal a glance at you like he still couldn’t believe this was real. As you both talked for hours about the thing that brought you together in the first place—comics—he realized something:

Super heroes were cool. Spider Man and Flash? Even cooler. He couldn't forget to thank Venom as a villain.

But nothing—nothing—could top the way you looked at him like he was your favorite issue in the entire collection.

[hugemilkshake]

hii! okay sooo....

seeing you write a Yandere Ancients x Reader....that got me thinking....what if it was the Dragons? YANDERE dragons? OMG SCREAMS AAAAAAAARGRHRGRRGRH ( im obsessed...i love yanderes sm they make me crazy MUAHAHHA i crave for more yandere dragon cookies content YUMMY )

same plot, basically the dragons (yandere) react to reader's rejection to them and pushes them away or something? or what if reader prefers someone else? i would really LOVE to see their reactions heh....IF U SEE THIS I BEG OF YOU- it would be the happiest moments of my LIFE if u do this RAHHHH anyways...THANKIE AND GOODBAI COOL PERSON !1!1 *skedaddles away*

(ok seriously i love they way u write the dragons. i crave more of ur amazing content hshshshsh)

Enjoy the milkshake! I’m a slow writer lololol and also my jaw hurts-

I would do Lychee and Longan but I can’t think of any ideas for them rn </3

Pitaya, Ananas and Lotus getting rejected

-Romantic-

!TW! Under the cut there will be stuff like guilt tripping, arson, punishing innocent people, forced starvation, implied cheating, manipulation and obsessive behaviors

Pitaya Dragon

You were already happy with the cookie you were with, your life was practically perfect.

But The Great Red Dragon thought that you’d drop everything just to be with them. I mean imagine being with one of the strongest characters on earthbread! You’d be treated well!

But… your more loyal than the dragon thought.. Your loyalty was something admirable but Pitaya hated that it wasn’t for them. You saw the dragon try to play it off normally but there was and underlying rage.

A month goes by you lived your normal life, the confession occasional coming up in your thoughts. Today was an average day, a clear sky and cool wind.

But then… you smelt it… smoke..

Smoke and the stench of burnt butter. You eyes gaze up at the sky and you see the smoke drifting across the blue sky, staining it in a dark gray. You look and spot that the smoke is coming from the local village, that same village your partner was visiting…

—————————————

When you rejected Pitaya, they were very angry. For days they burned and destroyed their cave.

But after they cooled down a bit they cleaned their cave up. Not because they accepted your rejection, but because they had a plan

They see how horrified you were at the sight of burnt cookies and homes, but most importantly… your partner being held up by the collar.

You had an ultimatum. Either save your partner and go with Pitaya or you let your partner and more cookies die, I mean… you wouldn’t want to be the cause of so many deaths right?

If you go with Pitaya, you are always in their vicinity. The dragon is quite clingy to you. They have their tail wrapped around time or your resting in their lap

They feel a little bad for forcing you to come with them, but not bad enough to let you go.

Ananas Dragon

A rejection to The Golden Dragon is quite the insult, but a rejection in favor for another? That’s just blasphemy.

After your rejection, your tribe started to suffer. Fruit stoped being produced, fish avoided the tribes hunting grounds and cookies started getting sick.

No one knows why, other tribes aren’t experiencing this, so why is yours?

Some cookies start to suspect that you have something to do with it, why else are there so many golden treasures and trinkets around your home?

Some cookies think about sacrificing you to the Golden Dragon, others think you did something to anger the dragon… which is exactly what Ananas Dragon wants…

—————————————

Your rejection was the most disrespectful thing Ananas Dragon has heard. I mean, you would be spoiled in riches beyond your wildest dreams! And yet, you choose some.. BORING old cookie over them?! Blasphemy.

The only thing that they could think of is to punish you. Your tribe had it good for too long. It’s time to bring some trouble.

All food sources started to die out. Anything you’d grow would die, all and any fish would be no where to be found.

Cookies of your tribe had to start rationing food and even eating plants that wouldn’t be considered edible, just to avoid starvation.

But due to the food situation, cookies were starting to get sick.

But while this happened, the more gold was left at your house. Cookies started to think you had something to do with this

The more who think you did something… the quicker Ananas Dragon will get you in their grasp…

Lotus Dragon

This confession didn’t happen immediately. It happened when you were head over heels. Yes, you have a partner but that doesn’t mean you can’t fall for someone else right?

It’s slow but Lotus is very patient. They can wait for their wish to come true. But while they’re waiting… why don’t you listen to them play their mandolin for a bit?

Don’t worry about your partner! They didn’t think about coming with you, they might not be as loyal as you think… but that’s probably not the case!

Right..?

—————————————

Lotus knows you’re loyal to your partner, and they know that you’d reject them, so unlike some other dragons, they would make you and your partner fall out of love.

Friendship. That’s where all love usually starts.

To befriend a dragon is quite a great feat. Others are envious and amazed at your friendship with the wish giving dragon

But… Lotus whispers doubts about your partner… like why don’t they spend time with you? They don’t seem to notice when you’re upset so why do they stay with you?

And unknown to you (and lotus) cookies tell your partner that they aren’t good enough for you since you are apparently friends with a dragon.

In a matter of time… you and your partner are broken up and you actually accept Lotus Dragons confession

But be warned… if you even come close to figuring out that they aided in breaking you and your partner up… you might get locked up…

[jollyhunter]

♡ MILKSHAKE FOR TWO ♡

LOVERBOY ! SOLDIER BOY / BEN x fem!Reader [Happy Valentine’s Day!!]

WARNING Fluff, (some) plot, Angst (bearable), Smut - NSFW - MDNI!; fingering, a lil' spankin', biting, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it before u tap it!), softdom!Ben (gasp!), faking orgasm, Ben reprimanding you, aftercare (Ben's way lol), strong language, basically just a general warning for Soldier Boy, no use of Y/N

⋆ ˚｡⋆ NOTE Okay sweethearts, this is my first time writing for Soldier Boy so please be lenient with me. 😭 Getting this man's colorful speech feel right as a non-native English is a real challenge lmao

After reading the Loverboy!Ben Headcanons by @lovedahlia I finally found the courage to pick this idea up again! And thanks @zepskies Coffee Shop Hadcanons for inspiring me with the sweet ending!! (and the pussy drink 💀)

⋆ ˚｡⋆ SUMMARY The lovey-dovey atmosphere around Valentine's Day did little to ease your ache. To put it blunt; Lately your sex life's been... let's say dull. Since for whatever reason getting off was turning out to be frustratingly difficult. Or more like, impossible; You just outlast any man in bed.

Well, except maybe for the cocky bastard of a supe seated across of you… Who you’d just made a bet with.

⋆ ˚｡⋆ WORDS ~7.4k [my longest fic so far!? 😭]

♡ MILKSHAKE FOR TWO ♡

One, two, three, five - now another orgasm. You lost count. He keeps rocking his hips as you ride another one of your highs out, his cock throbbing inside you -

“Is it hot?” Ben’s gravely voice throws you right off your imaginary man, eyes snapping up at him with a look of panic and confusion.

The warm scent of weed wafts through the musky air and hits your nose, reminding you of your situation; Right. You’re here to ‘babysit’ Soldier Boy while he’s meticulously rolling joints and taking a swig of his beer every now and then.

“W-what?” Your thumb quickly swipes away the fanfic on your phone’s screen, feigning innocence.

“The picture of your boyfriend’s dick.” He replies. The motel’s dim light frames the intense gaze occasionally drifting toward you, a teasing smile tugging at his beard when he continues. “Can’t ignore the way you’ve been practically eye-fucking that thing for the past six joints.” He jerks his chin at the phone now tightly clasped under your hands likes it’s holding all your sins in one place.

“What- that’s not- no- what the hell.” You stutter, while you’re secretly relieved that his mind took a different direction.

“Hm,” he grunts, unconvinced, his eyes briefly closing. You tense up in the couch when his elbows slide off the table, now resting on his spread legs, his head tilting your way. “What’s it then, huh? Internet?”

Ah yes, you were looking at internet. Hughie had mentioned the word to him some days ago, but no one seems to have had the patience – or guts – to properly explain it to him. You smirk to yourself, but keep the mocking comment back. You didn’t want to risk him snatching your phone away again, as he had done many times before just to annoy you.

“Yeah, internet. It’s like a – a library, but digital, you know?” You try to explain. Your hands casually let the phone disappear in your jeans’ back pocket while you make sure to keep the discussion going. “How do you even know about dickpics? My gramps sure as hell wouldn’t know.”

“Oh fuck off.” He throws you a half-arsed scowl over the edge of his canted beer, “I basically invented it. The concept of showing off your dick to your girl ain’t that goddamn new-fangled.” He sneers the word ‘new-fangled’, his free hand waving dismissively in your direction.

The frown on his lips shifts into a crooked smile at what seems to be a particularly fond memory popping up in his mind. Cute, it suits him.

“I once had Warhol print my dick in the colors of the American flag. Surprised Countess with one on every fuckin’ wall.”

“Wow.” You can’t help but shake your head and crack a laughter at the mental image. “I bet she was ecstatic.”

“Oh you can bet my nutsack. That night we fucked like bunnies. Skeeted those paintings. Redecorated the whole damn thing.” He grins like a proud boy before his fond smile suddenly flips, “Now the bitch’s gargling dirt.”

The air thickened and your chest tightens. Only the sound of his fingers briefly strangling the neck of his beer bottle fills the tense silence in the room.

Your eyes drift to the ground, scrambling for something to say to steer the conversation away from his dead ex - but he beats you to it.

Ben has let out a heavy sigh after he took a swig, the beer bottle now tipped in your direction.

"So. No boyfriend then, huh?" He muses before he tilts his head, his lips curling into a smug smirk, “Gonna spend your national fuck day all alone with a pillow between your legs?”

“I- I’m not spending my - as you call it so colourfully - ‘national fuck day’ with a pillow between my legs. Thank you very much.”

“No? Not gonna rawdog it while you’re thinking of me?”

Your eyes widen at that wild accusation - not that he was wrong about the latter assumption. But you certainly wouldn’t let him know that.

Your cheeks flush slightly and you quickly force your parted lips into a firm, tight line. “For your information. I’ll not spend my day all sad and pathetic home alone but will be going out to Jerry’s Coffeehouse and treat myself with an extra large matcha milkshake with chocolate chips and loads of vanilla syrup. And it’ll be my best fucking Valentine’s day.”

His eyebrow pops up at that, his sharp eyes observing you for a moment as if he’s considering something, his expression a mixture between amusement and something else which you can’t quite read.

After a moment his lips quirk, voice confident, but there’s also a hint of curiosity hidden behind it, “Ah, that’s a code word for you rounding the bases, hm? Get yourself a sweet fuckin’ home run. All Turn-Down and the whole nine yards.”

“What? No – agh - Not everything’s about sex, Ben.” You groan and drag a hand down your face, trying your best to hide the tinge of bitterness in your voice. “Unlike me, I bet you wouldn’t survive a day without jerking off if I wasn’t cockblocking you with my mere presence.”

“And I bet I could ruin you real fast if you didn’t act like a little tight-folded nun around me all the time.”

Your breath catches in your throat for a moment. In all these weeks, Ben never made a move on you. Not even a single attempt at flirting with you. To the point that - even though you knew you shouldn’t - you started to wonder whether it was your looks or your personality you’d have to blame for.

So, yes, you have indeed acted rather, let’s say, ‘reserved’ around Ben.

But that wasn’t because you were appalled by the thought of what he could do to you with you sprawled out beneath him, all open and inviting. Quite the contrary. It was because you liked the thought, but also didn’t want to fall for yet another man who’d just use you for his pleasure.

So you made sure to keep him at an arms length.

“Jesus, you’re so damn vulgar.” You utter, your back slumped against the couch’s armrest while you try your best to act unaffected by his words, “ You kiss a lady with that dirty mouth of yours?”

“What’s the deal with you chicks? I ain’t friggin' Cary Grant, y’know?” He takes a messy swig of his beer and briefly wipes his beard with the back of his hand, “Y’all so damn sensitive.”

“Yeah, I wish.” You grumble, the words slipping your lips before you can give them a second thought.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“You don’t believe me, sweetheart?”

“You know what? Yeah.” You retort out of nowhere, purely driven by all the pent-up frustration of the past months. Straightening up, you proceed to make it worse in such a confident tone which even surprises yourself, “I bet my ass that I could outlast you in bed.”

It was frustrating. And felt embarrassing. Really. It didn’t help that you tried to sell it as if it was an achievement worth an oscar.

"Well, that just proofs it then."

"Proofs what?"

"That you're a wuss-fucker. Just some pathetic fucking dicks dippin' in there." Ben jerks his head towards the spot hidden between your tightly crossed legs and he snorts in amusement at your grimace. "What? ‘Tis a real shame’s all I’m sayin’. I mean, what real man doesn't make sure his girl gets off first.” He leans back and sneers against the mouth of his beer bottle, “'S pathetic, really."

"Yeah, right." you roll your eyes, your voice tighter, "'Cuz I bet you're such a gentleman in bed. But you can't proof shit."

“Oh you’re on.” He quickly sets down the bottle and flashes his cocky grin at you, his voice dropping an octave to hit that tingling spot inside you, “I’ll have you cum so damn hard, you’ll be screamin’ and kickin’ while I hold ya down. And guess what, sweetheart…”

He pushes off the chair, his large frame looming over you before he bends down to your eye-level, his voice dipping into a low, deep gravelly tone, “I ain’t gunna let ya move a single inch… and have you take it like a good fuckin’ girl.”

Silence. Only the soft gulp of your last sense of self-control getting forced down your throat cuts through the thick air between you.

He holds your gaze, a playful smile spread across his lips when he straightens up again, his voice nonchalant. “‘Course, only if you want.”

“I do.” The answer came faster than you could even process it.

He looks back down at you, a flash of genuine surprise crossing his eyes before he covers it up with a smug expression, “Oh yeah?”

His words were like the flick of a switch.

Next moment clothings were flying across the room, partially torn as neither of you had the patience to get them off properly. The heat between you skyrocketed, heavy breathing filling your ears in tandem with intense drumming of your heart. Soft golden rays peek through the shutters, their light bouncing off his darkened eyes and casting shadows of wild, fervent bodies moving through the room like a tempest.

God you felt so pent up - it was driving you mad. The desperate need for relief, for reaching that sweet peak of ecstasy. It clouds your mind, has your will to think straight completely subdued.

Ben doesn’t seem to be in much more control either, his hands flying across your body, like he doesn’t know what to explore first. He pushes you up against the wall, the force deliberately kept to a minimum. His nose draws a line across your shoulder, inhaling your scent like a drug, all the way up your neck until he exhales again, the hot breath pressed against your skin under your jaw.

“Fuck me – you’re intoxicatin’, woman.” He rasps out, his voice raw and full of barely contained need.

Your breath comes out shaky, head tilted to the side without a second thought. “Ben,” you say his name close to a whine, your mind handing over the reigns to him, “Please don’t stop.”

“Won’t-” he mutters against your skin, his voice muffled by the trail of kisses, “’M not gonna stop until you’ve cum.” His teeth skim along your pulse point and for a moment you feel like your legs give in. But he quickly steadies you, his large hands moving down your sides to hold onto your hips with a firm grip. “Promise.” He adds hoarsely, some of your skin now tugged between his teeth as he starts to leave love bites in his wake. “We got a bet goin’, after all.”

Your body’s now moving on instinct and for only one purpose. Your need, your heat, it’ll keep you going, you know it. No matter how long you’ll have to pant like a racing horse, no matter how much you’ll regret it the next day when you’ll feel stiff and aching at places you didn’t even know you had muscles.

It all doesn’t matter right now. It is all just you and him. The world reduced to his strong arms wrapped around your fragile frame, his muscles flexing as he lifts you up, and his world reduced to your legs wrapping around his hips, your aching core pressed up against his bulging boxers.

Your lips collide with his, their first meeting sending a bolt of pleasure through your body. Your mind goes hazy, your legs tighten around his hips and your hands hang onto his shoulder in an attempt to hold him close.

Your heads swivel, mouths working passionate. But to your surprise, Ben still keeps it slow, savouring every bit of your lips dancing around his. His tongue’s tasting the inside of your mouth as he swallows your moans and fills it with his own groans. Teeth gently pull at your lower lip before he finally breaks the kiss, to give you the chance to catch your breath.

You pant against him, your lips burning from the stubbles but still lingering there. You suddenly feel the rest of your body again, a shudder running down your spine, right to your aching core.

That’s when you notice how wet your inner thighs are, the slick coating your skin and folds. Ben licks his lips, the scent of your undeniable arousal filling his senses. He moves you on his hips, pinning you further against the wall to hold you in place with one hand while the other trails over the bump of your hipbones, dipping down between your legs.

“Christ on a Stake. You’re so fuckin’ pent up. What did those wusses do to let you leave like this?” He groans, fingers coating in your slick as he runs them down your inner thigh.

Your eyes briefly flutter closed, your hips bucking against him with the need for some friction already. “Please, I- Ah-fff- ” You mutter, your words cut short by a terribly needy whine when Bens fingertips brush across your clit.

“Yeah, yeah, calm the hell down” he chuckles, his lips back to suck a red mark at your neck, “’M gonna take care of that needy pussy of yours, dontcha worry.”

You nod, soft moans slipping your red puffy lips as he assaults every inch of skin he can reach. Your eyes widen with a yelp when you suddenly feel yourself getting heaved up high and your limbs flail uncontrollably in a panic.

“Hey- stop struggling darlin’, I don’t wanna hurt you.” He orders gruffly, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips to keep you safely in his grip. With one swift move he lifts you high enough for your legs to drape over his shoulders on each side, his palms now wrapping around the underside of your thighs to keep you pinned between the wall and his head. In moments like these you could feel a shiver run down your back, as you’d just been reminded again of the inhuman power imbalance between you two. Fuck - he could snap you in two if he’d want to.

“Now that’s a view I could get used to,” He growls, his lips curled into a hungry smile at the sight of your dripping hole, all open and inviting, and right on his eye-level. “So damn needy. ‘N so damn beautiful.” He muses, ignoring the increased panting of yours against the top of his head while you’re murmuring his name like a prayer.

His grip tightens as he pushes his head between your thighs, his hot breath against your clit sending sparks of fire through your body. He digs right in, eagerly swiping his tongue between your folds, swirling around your clit, teasing your entrance with slow deliberate slaps of his tongue. You start to squirm and moan in response, the friction like a pain-killer to your aching core.

“Hold still damn it,” he orders, the rumbling of his voice against your folds sending shivers up your spine. You whimper and his intensity increases in response. He groans when your fingers tangle up in his hair and your fingernails scrape at his scalp with frantic motions.

“Fffuck- please, please, please don’t stop, don’t stop-” You plead in weak whimpers as you can feel his beard burn your sensitive skin with every drag of his tongue up your folds, the prickling pain mixing with your pleasure. Meanwhile the muscles in his arms flex to hold you still, keep you pinned up high against the wall and to make sure you don’t accidentally tumble off his shoulders.

His lips close around your clit and he starts to suck terrible whines out of you, your legs fighting his hands under his onslaught. Your pleasure begins to coil tight, your body twitches and your fingers claw at his long hair for the following minutes - but it never snaps. How the fuck does it still not snap?

A whine of protest leaves your lips when he suddenly pulls his head back. You watch his glistening face from half lidded eyes, your chest heaving, some of your sweet juice caught in his beard.

“Damn, darlin’, you’re a tough case, huh?” He chuckles, the tongue swiping his lips to savour your taste again with a low praising groan, “Fuck- Marilyn Monroe’s a dumpster next to you. You taste like fuckin’ heaven.”

A gasp slips your lips when he decides to haul you over his shoulder and with three long strides crosses the room over to the bed when a SMACK has you yelp up. The skin of your asscheek reddens where his hand just swatted you and he chuckles. “You’ve got a long night ahead of you.”

You struggle and squirm in protest but it’s no use, his tight grip around your waist keeps you on his shoulder, facing the other way with your nice bum exposed to him. “You ain’t goin’ anywhere.” His hand swats your other asscheek this time and he laughs at your needy whine, his tone amused as you can practically hear the smirk playing on is lips, “I haven’t even started.”

His voice sounds raspy, but his tone tells you he’s thrilled, as if the fact that you didn’t shatter from his touch yet, has him enthralled. After all, Soldier Boy was used to things being easy for him, to succeed with half an effort, so real challenges were a rare case for him. And your stubbornly high resistance to falling over the edge seemed to be just that.

Next moment Ben bends down, dropping you gently onto the bed before the mattress dips down under his additional weight when he crawls on top of you. His hands roam your body, groping the soft flesh at your hips, your thighs, roughly massaging your breasts as he pinches your nipples between his fingers.

You start to squirm and tremble from need, your fingernails scraping at his taut muscles that box you in from all sides. “Just hold still for me, yeah? Just lemme do the work…” he husks out, voice low and dangerous with promise that sends a shiver down your spine.

He leans in and breaths hot and low against the shell of your ear while you feel his hand trail down between your shaking legs. “Will get this needy pussy wrecked and all mine…”

You hum into his shoulder when he pushes his index finger past your slick folds, and he takes that as a cue that you need more, so his middle finger quickly follows. This time he manages to draw a soft moan from your lips, your arms wrapping around his neck where you start to kiss and nibble his skin. “You greedy little thing…” he growls, his lips quirked into a smirk.

He starts to pump them, his fingers curling to hit your spongy spot that earns him at least a little louder moan. “Please,” you start to beg, “I need more, Ben… please-” He doesn’t wait and jams a third finger inside your tight cunt before he flicks his thumb over the hood of your swollen clit, the pace of his hand slapping loudly against your cunt increasing. The stretch of his fat fingers filling you up, rubbing your g-spot and scissoring, it all has your legs trembling, the coil in your stomach tightening again to the point where it just – flat lines.

Ben notices the frustration in your eyes and he leans in to press a sloppy kiss onto your damp forehead. His thumb rubs faster circles over your clit, his eyes locked onto your face when his impatience starts to mutter under his breath. "We got us a real stubborn pussy here, hm? You think everyone else is too much of a wuss to keep up with you, huh? Is that it? You need someone who can give as good as they get?"

“Fine” He grunts, pulling his fingers from your dripping hole, his voice gruff with irritated determination, “Looks like this’ a job for my dick. Gonna fuck you over that edge in no time.”

“Please.” You whine, your face buried in his broad shoulder. Your clit swollen, throbbing, tingling, every nerve of your body burning hot and leading down to that one single aching knot as your system was threatening to short-circuit your brain, just to get this damn bundle of nerves to finally erupt.

He quickly gets rid of his boxers, his thick cock free and fully erect. He grapples with your twitching legs, spreading them apart and pulling you back towards his hips where his pink tip pushes against your entrance. You stifle a mewl, your hips bucking instinctively as you need him. Need all of him.

Both of your groans collide between your lips when he snaps his hips and pushes his shaft all the way into your tight channel in one - unceremonious – go. He stills for a moment, his breath hot and heavy when it wafts against your face, “You good?”

His voice was low, a hoarse whisper between the two of you. You nod once again, a weak “yeah” tumbling off your lips. His hands move up to grip onto your hips like handles, his hips slowly starting to move.

You groan at the feeling of his thick pulsing length dragging down your soft walls before being jammed back in all the way up until he hits your cervix and he coaxes a whimper from you. His pace isn’t fast, but his thrusts are deep, each one well measured and deliberate.

“That’s it, you can take it… taking my cock so fuckin’ well...” He mutters against your skin, his tongue swiping across your salty skin.

When he starts to increase his force, your fingers dig into his skin and if it wasn’t for his indestructibleness, he was sure he’d have some nice and long claw marks of you down his back. He hooks your legs over his shoulders and cants your hips, getting an even deeper angle this way. Slouching noise fills the room, the sound of wet skin clashing together in time with your increasing moans and whines and his grunts and groans.

His hand suddenly reaches up to grab your chin, his eyes locking onto yours. "See, darlin'? I’ll have you fall apart beneath me soon enough… can't keep your pussy giving me that attitude, that's how you end up in a mess like this.” He mocks you with a teasing chuckle, “Getting the stuffing pounded out of you, all because you couldn't control that naughty mouth of yours and had to make a bet with me."

You just nod, the meaning of his words flying by your clouded mind. Your sole focus’ on your building pleasure, rapidly charging up your throbbing clit. Ben notices it too when your walls start to clamp down on his cock, every hard thrust forcing its way back in to keep the pleasure building.

“Fuck – you’re so tight – You gonna strangle my damn dick at this point.” He hisses, his fingers digging into your flesh again to pull your hips back and meet his thrusts.

“You close, darlin’?” Ben grunts above you.

There it is again. That embarrassing moment of silence. You would’ve sighed right now if it wasn’t for you being buried beneath Ben and his punctured thrusts knocking the air out of you.

Are you close? Your core’s on fire. Certainly. To the point where it hurts even. You feel your legs and feet tingling like white-noise is rushing through your blood, leaving every sensitive nerve in its wake going numb.

But still. You know you wouldn’t tip over. Stuck in that fucking uphill battle. It was just. Not. Enough. It never was nowadays.

The blatant lie sits on the tip of your tongue when Ben’s gruff voice suddenly cuts in.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare fake it.”

How - Your mind comes to a screeching halt.

You choke it back down. Cancel the act that was up next, your well-versed finale to the dull program you were used to.

Shit, he knows.

“N-no…” you confess under your breath. The sound of it weak and to your relief, lost between his heavy grunts.

Or so you think.

“What? You think I’m some spineless wuss who can’t get his girl off?” He punctures each word with a deep thrust as he keeps pounding you into the mattress, “Just tell me whatever the fuck you need me to do, I’m not gonna cry, Jesus Christ.” He continues to reprimand you in a firm tone, his voice holding a hint of disappointment.

You gasp, your breath gets stuck in your throat. No man has ever asked you this before. No one.

Ben suddenly stills, his green eyes locking with yours when his voice takes a serious tone, “You need me to be rougher, pretty girl? That it?”

Your breath hitches, your mind dizzy and clouded by his musky scent, the feeling of him inside you, above you, all around you - and the heat still burning between your legs, still not on that damn edge to your long chased relief.

He leans down next to your head to scrub his beard along your cheeks and up to your ear, “Just say the word,” he growls and you can practically see the smirk spread across his face by the way he sounds.

He knows. Fuck he knows you need more.

And yet he waits for your response, patiently, his body still hanging onto you with a tight grip while his hot breath wafts against the shell of your ear in short bursts like a countdown.

There’s a moment of tense silence, like the calm before a storm. A force that is waiting for you to invite it in, to let it wreck your temple.

“Y-yes, please,” Your voice’s trembling slightly from each puff of warm air that’s huffed from between his lips and smothered across your skin, sending a shiver down your back.

“Jackpot,” he hums, a satisfied expression on his face before his lips begin aimlessly placing kisses all over your face, as if trying to soothe your frustration. “Not gunna hold back anymore… gunna fuck you so long ‘n so hard you won’t be able to walk for the next days. You like that thought, hm?”

“Y—yeah- please – just don’t stop…” you admit with a needy whine, your legs twitching against his shoulders and your head tilted back while your hands start to fist the sheets in anticipation. You’d surely fall over the edge in the next minutes. You had to.

Little did you know, that you’d still be going for the next couple of hours.

You switched positions every time you felt how your clit was going numb from the overstimulation and the pent up energy. Ben’s bulky body kept working relentlessly, his power not faltering once, his pace never slowing down unless he noticed you needed a moment to catch your breath.

He’d be trapping you under him, ass high up in the air, back pressed down with one hand splayed across it, wrists somewhere buried in the pillows and pinned there roughly by his other hand as he slammed is cock against your cervix in a brutal pace.

“Tell me when you’re close,” he orders, his lips against the spot behind your ear and his long, stubby beard scraping your skin as his jaw moves, “I want to see your beautiful face when you rock that high the way you fuckin’ deserve.”

“Oh- Oh fuck- I- I’m close-“ you scream as you feel his hard tip punch your spongy walls like he’s trying to engrave himself into your every inch and his fingers meanwhile rubbing your clit sore. He roughly flips you over onto your back, his lips catching yours just in time when your walls flutter around him and finally, finally that sweet relief crashes down on you. Unexpected and intoxicating as your guttural moans get muffled by his mouth. “God- this- you, God-”

He pulls back, huffing a raspy laughter with a mock-offended tone, “God? I’m fuckin’ better.” He feels your cum coat his cock, your walls wrapping tightly around him. It takes all his will power to hold himself back, to not empty himself inside you. Not yet. Not when he’d promised you to keep going all night. “That’s it,” He plants a praising kiss onto your forehead, his gruff voice rumbling against your skin, “And now let’s hear it once more. Just for good measure.”

And he does. Fingers sink into your skin whenever he’d move you around, large hands holding you down, up, on top of him, against him, muscles working all around you while they would bend or push you into any position, effortlessly.

His superhuman strength overpowers you without even trying, but it feels like he’s only ever using as little as needed to get a reaction out of you. A good reaction. When he roughly flips you over again, pushes you into the mattress, pins your head to the sheets as you squirm and tremble under him, you notice his lips brush up against your ear more frequently, murmuring incoherent, soothing words. Like he’s following the urge to be closer to you. Making silent check-ins. Always making sure you’re not overwhelmed, making sure that those wines and yelps are the cause of pleasurable pain and nothing else. At last, you find yourself on top of him, straddling his hips, bouncing on his hard cock as you ride him like a bull. “What was that about you outlasting me, huh?” He taunts and mocks you in time with rough strokes along your exhausted gummiwalls, “‘bout taking whatever I can throw at you, hm?” He snaps his hips up to meet you halfway when you yelp a short admission, “O-okay, you win!”

His lips curl into a smug smile, “What was that? You gotta work that pretty mouth of yours. Gramps ears ain’t that good.” He pulls you down roughly, making you take him deeper with each thrust of his.

“Y-yar r-ah-iight!” You groan as you fall apart one more final time. Your walls flutter and this time he allows himself to let you pull him over the edge along you. His pulsing cock coating your insides with his warm cum. Your voice’s raspy from the harsh breaths you’ve sucked down your open mouth for the past hours.

You collapse to his chest, shaking from the waves of pleasure that rippled through your every fibre and the feeling of his warm seeds filling you up and dripping down his shaft and onto his skin. His arms wrap around your back to hold you close while he murmurs naughty words against the crown of your head.

While Ben had gotten himself a joint to smoke, you padded into the bathroom, getting yourself cleaned. “You doin’ good, darlin’?” He calls after you, loosley holding the joint between his lips as he props himself up against the bed’s headboard.

You return after a while, your body wrapped up in a towel as you make your way back to the bed and snuggle up to him. He drapes his arm lazily around your shoulder, pulling you closer so that your head rests on his firm chest.

“You really had to work for it… huh?” You break the silence with a low mutter, feeling some embarrassment creep up on you.

“You kiddin’?” His eyes snap down at you and he takes a drag of his joint before he continues, “Darlin’, you’ve got the drive of a bunny in heat. Taking my cock so fuckin’ well. Most tap out after the second round but you -“ he lets out a low whistle close to a hiss, “- you just keep goin’ all night – Fuckin’ unbelievable.”

“Oh shush…” You giggle sheepishly.

“Just speaking the damn truth. You be proud of that, ya hear me?” He says in a firm voice, while he reaches up to stroke a damp hair out of your face.

You smile, feeling your chest tingle and your cheek warm up, “This was… this was unbelievable. You were amazing.”

He laughs and flashes a cocky grin down at you, “Told ya my dick would beat your pussy over that edge.“

You cringe inwardly at his choice of words, “That’s not what I meant. I’m not talking about your… your dick or your stamina. I’m talking about you.” You pause, his eyebrows knot together and you quickly add, "Like, non-physically."

He stares at you, nonplussed - then irritated. “Fuck me. You - you snort some of my shit, prissy little thing?”

“No, Ben-,” a soft, frustrated chuckle escapes your lips that makes his eyebrows twitch together again, “You - you are amazing.”

You repeat but this time tilt your head back to hold his gaze, like you’re pointing at the soul hiding behind those green orbs that stare back at you, while your fingers draw invisible circles on his arms.

Silence.

Ben’s sharp eyes are searching your face for clues, like he’s mentally going through every drug that could have led you to say something as ridiculous as that.

You smile in return. A genuine, honest smile. Aimed at him. And his mind short circuits for a moment.

A faint flash of something like a blush crosses his cheeks, but it is covered up the same moment with his usual gruff expression and an irritated scoff. “‘Course I’m fuckin’ amazin’. Besides that, I just wanted to win the bet.” His teeth flash at you between a cocky smirk. “And I proofed you damn wrong.”

Ah, there it is again, good ol’ Soldier Boy.

Walls and barb wire and mine field; all up and ready to defend that one and only fragile part of his indestructible body. Keeping it strapped down by some rush of power trip and waterboarded in his twisted idea of love.

You chuckle, knowingly. That damn soft smile on your lips again.

He stares down at you with an unreadable expression, like he’s fighting the urge to slap some sense into you for throwing such an inappropriate gesture his way. To him, it was infuriating, really. But thanks to that stupid curve dancing across your face, he now feels himself caught up in a whole new range of emotions.

You could have gotten up now and left. Like you were sure he expected you to. Probably one of the reasons he kept silent, his brows pulled low like a defensive shield against your gaze, his arm draped around your shoulders so awkwardly… ‘cuz he knew he wasn’t good at this. Aftercare. He’s practically just waiting for you to snap at him, and pull away without another good word. His eyes narrow further, almost provoking it now as he felt himself slowly crumble under your warm presence.

But none of these thoughts crossed your mind. Instead your fingers gently trace the frame of his hardened face that could’ve fooled anyone but you.

That speck of a blush had been more than enough reason to settle down further into his chest with a soft hum, “Mhm, you did win... Win-win.”

Mindless chattering carries the cozy atmosphere of Jerry’s Coffehouse, each table occupied by couples sharing desserts and passionate kisses. All except the one set under your arms, your fingers loosely holding onto the card before you drop it to the table in resignation.

The sweet scent of sugary sins whirls around your nose, intrusive, mocking you. Now that you are here, sitting in the middle of a room full of unfiltered, tooth-aching love all around you, it seems like your appetite has been spoiled for good.

Truth be told, you can’t entirely blame the lovestruck couples boxing you in like in a bully circle. The problem is much worse. You feel lonely. Not the usual lonely, but terribly lonely because you had something for a moment, something real special, and now it was gone again.

It feels like so many unspoken feelings still hang in the air. At least for you there are. You are pretty sure that Ben was more than happy about Butcher’s interruption just when you thought you’d seen a glimpse of something more beneath this scraggy hard shell of “Soldier Boy”.

You exhale heavily. Your eyes glued down to your empty hands.

Well, it doesn’t matter now, does it? Your job to watch Soldier Boy was done. He’d moved on. It was over. After all, last night was just for some fun, right? Something to finally get you off, to feel so much more than-

You mentally kick yourself. Get your shit together and get back to your old life.

You fish out your phone from your pocket and open the fanfic from yesterday. With a heavy sigh you scroll down the blurry words, memories of your past night flashing across your inner eye – when a sudden noise almost has you drop your phone.

The coffee table rattles under your elbows as the opposite chair clatters into it under the force of a kick and the following screeching sound has some heads whirl around to watch the scene with raised eyebrows.

Whipped cream sploshes for a second as the large glass CLANGS down in front of you and hits the wooden surface with the force of a drunken man handling a beer bottle. You instinctively dodge back in your seat. Your eyes watch the green contents of it sway under the thick layer of chocolate sprinkled cream topping before your befuddled look darts up to meet him.

Ben slumps down across of you. His casual clothes almost could’ve fooled one to believe he’s a regular guy, if it wasn’t for his bulky frame hanging off the seat in all directions.

He looks a tad annoyed, but that was something you’d long become accustomed to. There was always something that pissed Ben off when you were around. Or someone for that matter. But mostly, it was just his resting face and you knew better than to take it personally.

“Couples get one pussy milk for two.” He states gruffly, ignoring all the faces turned his way now.

“…Ben? What the hell are you doing here?” You sputter, thrown off by the sudden whiff of musky smoke mixed with an unusual, intense, fresh and masculine smell… was that perfume that just hit your nose?

His stern expression melts into a flirtatious smile. This is new. “Hey sweetheart. Miss me yet?”

“How did you know I was here? - Wait- did you just say, for couples?”

“That’s what the sailor-hat-cum-gobbler back there said.” He boots back the chair next to you to kick up his legs while he continues with an annoyed grunt, but lacked any bite, “This green spew better be worth my damn money.”

You blink at him rapidly, and quite frankly, dumbfounded. Is that emotionally constipated man even aware of what he just said or-

“That’s what we are, innit?” He cuts you short, his voice as gravelly and confident as always.

But the way his green pupils glance up at you from the corner of his eyes, a thick strand of hair falling into his face when his head tilted away slightly, like a puppy afraid to get kicked… His emotions were subtle, a rare and fleeting moment, and anybody else might have dismissed it. But it told you so much more than he was willing to admit.

When your eyes flicker down to his hand twitching from his death grip on the arm rest, your chest tightens.

Oh my God. Ben was dead fucking serious.

“Don’t people usually first date?” You chuckle nervously, trying to lighten the mood.

And to buy yourself some time as you try to grapple with a situation you had never expected to find yourself in.

In fact, you have pictured yourself in it ever since you stepped into that shabby damn motel room where he had locked eyes with you for the very first time.

His stern expression makes way for a raucous laughter, his voice booming across the small coffee in pride. “I think we’re past that point, love, after I’ve fucked you raw. For five fucking hours. That’s longer than any damn date I’ve ever had.”

“Jesus Christ - Ben - tune it down! Please.” You plead in a hushed voice, face flushed as you can sense all the curious eyes watching you both closely, like you’re part of a live performance. And a scandalous one on top.

“I don’t hear any complaints. Just stating the facts here, sweetheart.” He chuckles cockily and winks at you, clearly his full ego back in place again, “So it’s settled, then?”

“Uh- I - uh-,” you stumble over your words, your hands fidgeting and your head still reeling from the fact that he had just announced your new relationship status as if he’d made a decent marketing deal with Vought.

His eyebrows push together, that familiar look of impatience taking over his face as he tries to understand why you’re still hesitating. You swallow thickly, the lump in your throat blocking any chance to voice your inner struggles.

You visibly shrink under his intense gaze and your eyes sink to the table, unsure of what to do. You sense him move across of you and you half-expect him to either snark at you now or just simply get up and leave. Damnit, now you fucked up.

But instead he slides the XXL milkshake across the table until it bumps into your tightly clasped hands and your eyes dart up to meet his again. He searches your face, emerald eyes sharp, analysing, but motivated by genuine concern.

His calloused fingers slide off the glass to brush them against yours, gentle, almost hesitant. As if those very same fingers hadn’t groped and gripped your flesh all night like he wanted to leave his marks on every inch of your body.

His large hand moves to cover both of yours, muffling the fidgeting of your fingers with a calm and heavy presence, his actions a big contrast to his rumbling voice. “Hey, you still with me?” He husks out your name, his green eyes boring into yours, gauging your reaction.

Your breath hitches, he squeezes your hands, the tension eases. Ben’s grounding you.

“Yes.” You finally whisper with an affectionate smile, and the same moment his fingers twitch around your hands. “It’s settled.”

“Good.” He mutters to himself and his expression seems almost… relieved.

It’s this moment you realise something: Ben’s not been avoiding his usual flirty and cocky smiles because he didn’t like you or thought you weren’t worth a fling. But because you were more than a possible fling to him. Because this, this was dead serious to him. And he was probably terrified of screwing it up.

After all, people didn’t love Benjamin for showing emotions, for vulnerability, for weakness, for being human. They loved Soldier Boy for being a fucking hero. The strongest. Indestructible. And not caressing fragile hands like they were an extention of the most precious soul in the whole damn universe to him.

His hands squeeze yours once more, as if physically reassuring you, before he pulls away and leans back again, now a content smile embellishing his firm face.

A genuine smile. No show. No flirty Soldier Boy.

From one ear to the other, all Benjamin.

As if he’d seen himself in the mirror, he suddenly shifts in his seat, like he’s physically trying to shake off any remaining trace of that disgusting vulnerability. “Right, so…” He clears his throat, his eyes flickering around the packed coffee shop like he’s looking for some moron to latch onto.

You chuckle softly at the sight, knowing all too well that it’ll probably take a hell of a lot of time and love to get him to smile more like this without having him recoil from his own feelings every time.

Sure enough, Ben has found the perfect victim. “Think we gotta step up our couple-game. Popeye’s still ain’t buyin’ it.” He smirks, his eyes lazily rolling over to briefly shoot a death glare at the sailor-hat wearing employee who’s now cowering behind the counter.

He then reaches over the table again, his index finger flicking against one of the two red-white striped straws bobbing in the sweet drink, before he goes on to strangle his own between his calloused finger pads.

“The dick bender’s been watching you all this time.” He growls, and you can feel just a hint of protectiveness from the way his jaw muscle twitches beneath his beard and his nose wrinkles above the straw that’s now been jammed between his bared teeth.

“Everyone’s watching us, Ben.” You chuckle, before your eyes trail down to the free straw with an amused smile.

Ben nudges your inner thigh with his foot under the table to get your attention. “C’mon, you make me look like some cocksucker here.” He teases and jerks his chin at you and the untouched straw still dangling off your side of the milkshake, “You said you wanted a fucking great Valentine’s day, right? So do me a favour, sweetheart, and start sucking.”

You chuckle and bring the straw up to your mouth to wrap your lips around it. You take the first slurp and your cheeks melt into a wide, knowing smile.

Matcha milkshake with chocolate chips and extra vanilla syrup. That much for ‘a code word’.

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

A/N: I hope this turned out okay?? 😭

Also. Maybe I was breaking a taboo here or maybe it’s not as common as I thought, but I felt like it's a topic which I have rarely ever see in fanfics. And I know how some just don’t fall over the edge that easily? Like sometimes it genuinely feels frustrating to chase that relief to no end with no success? Yeah, this story is for you all. I hear you. 🧡

Starting a Soldier Boy tag list for anyone who’s interested! ♡

[poppitron360]

More quotes from this RANDOM INCORRECT QUOTES GENERATOR that I found- THIS TIME VALGRACE:

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Leo: What do you want to be for Halloween?

Jason: Yours.

Leo:

Leo: …yeah, that would be pretty scary.

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Jason: Stop doing that.

Leo: Stop doing what?

Jason: Saying things that make me wanna kiss the hell out of you.

0]-_🔥-_[0]-_⚡️-_ [0]-_🔥-_[0]-_⚡️-_ [0]-_🔥-_[0]-_⚡️-_[0

Leo: I can't take this anymore, someone needs to take me out!

Jason: In a dating type of way, or an assassination type of way?

Leo: I don't know, surprise me!

0]-_🔥-_[0]-_⚡️-_ [0]-_🔥-_[0]-_⚡️-_ [0]-_🔥-_[0]-_⚡️-_[0

Leo: Pros and cons of dating me.

Leo: Pros. You'll be the cute one.

Leo: Cons. Holy shit, where do I begin-

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Jason, trying to flirt: So, you come around here often?

Leo, confused: I mean, this is my house, so yeah.

0]-_🔥-_[0]-_⚡️-_ [0]-_🔥-_[0]-_⚡️-_ [0]-_🔥-_[0]-_⚡️-_[0

Leo: How do I tell Jason that I want him to yell at me like he’s Gordon Ramsay and I'm a poor little chef who just ruined a crème brûlée?

0]-_🔥-_[0]-_⚡️-_ [0]-_🔥-_[0]-_⚡️-_ [0]-_🔥-_[0]-_⚡️-_[0

Leo: Let’s watch Sharkboy and Lavagirl.

Jason: Okay.

Leo: And make out during the scary parts.

Jason: Th-

Jason: The scary parts.

Jason: Of Sharkboy and Lavagirl.

0]-_🔥-_[0]-_⚡️-_ [0]-_🔥-_[0]-_⚡️-_ [0]-_🔥-_[0]-_⚡️-_[0

Jason (about Leo): I would never say that my husband is a bitch and I don’t like him. That’s not true… My husband is a bitch and I like him so much!

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Leo: Okay, but what if we went to dinner not as friends this time?

Jason: AS ENEMIES?!

Leo:

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Leo: Are you an F5 key? Because that ass is refreshing.

Jason: Are you a software update? because not right now.

0]-_🔥-_[0]-_⚡️-_ [0]-_🔥-_[0]-_⚡️-_ [0]-_🔥-_[0]-_⚡️-_[0

Jason *Holding up a pack of pens*: Look at how cute these pens are!

Leo: Jason that’s gay.

Jason:

Jason: Leo, we’ve been dating for-

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Jason: This date is boring!

Leo: This isn't a date. I said I was going to the store.

Jason: Then why did you invite me?

Leo: I didnt, I specifically said "don't come with me," then you said, "fuck you Leo I'll do whatever I want!

0]-_🔥-_[0]-_⚡️-_ [0]-_🔥-_[0]-_⚡️-_ [0]-_🔥-_[0]-_⚡️-_[0

Jason: I don't know how to tell you this, but... I love you.

Leo: That's great, Jason. Especially considering the fact we've been married for 6 fucking years.

(Basically the plot of my Married Valgrace AU that I’ve been writing)

0]-_🔥-_[0]-_⚡️-_ [0]-_🔥-_[0]-_⚡️-_ [0]-_🔥-_[0]-_⚡️-_[0

Jason: If I'm extra sarcastic with you it probably means I'm flirting with you or you really annoy me and I can't handle your crap... have fun figuring out which one.

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Leo: Can I have 2 straws with that milkshake?

Jason: Aww-

Leo: With 2 straws, I can drink it double as fast!

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Leo: Fight me!

Jason: *gets on one knee and pulls out a ring*

Jason: Fight me for the rest of our lives.

0]-_🔥-_[0]-_⚡️-_ [0]-_🔥-_[0]-_⚡️-_ [0]-_🔥-_[0]-_⚡️-_[0

Jason: Two bros!

Leo: Chillin' in a hot tub!

Jason and Leo, in unison: Zero feet apart 'cause we're GAY AS FUCK!

0]-_🔥-_[0]-_⚡️-_ [0]-_🔥-_[0]-_⚡️-_ [0]-_🔥-_[0]-_⚡️-_[0

Jason: When I was young, I left a trail of broken hearts like a rockstar. I'm not proud of it.

Leo: You're kind of proud of it. You work it into a lot of conversations.

0]-_🔥-_[0]-_⚡️-_ [0]-_🔥-_[0]-_⚡️-_ [0]-_🔥-_[0]-_⚡️-_[0

Jason: Did you know you remind me of all 26 letters of the alphabet?

Leo: What? Like J F K W S Q X-

Jason: No, like, U R A Q T.

Leo: Awwww!

0]-_🔥-_[0]-_⚡️-_ [0]-_🔥-_[0]-_⚡️-_ [0]-_🔥-_[0]-_⚡️-_[0

Jason: Ugh, crushes are so dumb.

Leo: I know. Whenever I’m near the person I like I just start acting stupid.

Jason: But you’re always acting stupid?

Leo: ...

Leo: Yeah, don’t think about that too hard.

0]-_🔥-_[0]-_⚡️-_ [0]-_🔥-_[0]-_⚡️-_ [0]-_🔥-_[0]-_⚡️-_[0

Jason: Okay, but if your not gay then why are you always holding my hand and kissing me and telling me I’m your boyfriend?

Leo: Dude- Its satire!

Jason: THAT'S NOT WHAT SATIRE MEANS!

0]-_🔥-_[0]-_⚡️-_ [0]-_🔥-_[0]-_⚡️-_ [0]-_🔥-_[0]-_⚡️-_[0

Jason: I want to kiss you.

Leo, not paying attention: What?

Jason: I said if you die, I wont miss you.

@euryvices I was literally in the middle of writing this when you posted your hcs and I had to tag you.

[baneonono]

watch house md for the first time with me pt 2

hi I’m on episode 17. guys I hate this plot with the stupid rich jerk. can house get to out manipulating him. can house yell at him. can house put him in his place. can cuddy tell him off. can someone get rid of him. why do I have to keep watching this stupid dude pretend he’s so smart about something he knows nothing about.

I don’t know if it’s the stupid rich guy plot but maybe foreman and Cameron aren’t so bad. I actually kinda like foreman. I do not understand why Cameron is into house. I’m praying to god that there’s no romance between them ever once in the show because I would probably stop watching(I’m a liar). Chase is making me mad because he’s not staying behind house. no offense to Hugh Laurie but I do not understand how people are attracted house. I mean I understand how Wilson is. but Cameron what- how- why- I think this is something I am too asexual to understand

loved that moment where house basically said he’s bisexual to Wilson in ep 16 and then they said they were paying for lunch together. I will grasp at all queer straws I can get and drink my milkshake as fast as possible with all of them

[missmarveledsblog]

It's just pretend right ? (Bucky Barnes x reader) part 5

summary : after an amazing day the terror twins come to bring kitty's world and everything she has known crashing to the world making her run off and face a past she's never known while she discovers a new "gift" , bucky find out she not the only one .

warning : this one is angsty i'm sorry but it for the plot i promise it not all angst , violence and shitty family .

Previous part

To say tony stark spent his day digging through everything and anything wouldn’t be a lie , they man had to give it to fury , he had the file completely locked but he’s tony stark  of course he found a way in and he suddenly wished he never did . He wished he could have gone back to be in the dark because what was hidden made his stomach twist and turn and it was all  information on a person he considered family.  How was he going to tell her this without breaking her beautiful stubborn little heart breaking the bonds and trust she’s had all these years. He read it over and over wishing it was some sick prank but when Nick fury walked into the lab the look on his face only confirmed it. 

“ How long did you know” was all he said, making Bruce look at the men in confusion. 

“ you shouldn’t be hacking the servers stark that file was not meant to be read”. 

“ does she know what’s in those files  the ones you hide very well i might add but not well enough” he crossed and uncrossed his arms frankly wanting to punch someone or something.  

“She has no idea and it’s not for us to tell her” fury stood tall on the issue . 

“ So what , you're just going to have agents looking after her and hope she doesn’t notice , well hate to tell you buddy she did” he scoffed. 

“ What are you talking about Stark? I never had agents watching her. the whole point of it no one  knowing  where she was” fury stopped face dropping . 

“ These aren’t your vehicles because their registers with shields” he turned the screen. 

“ Jesus for a genius you're a dumbass sometimes that’s a list of known vehicles we’ve had on watch list not inventory , how long she notices these”. 

“ Since she was a kid, she just thinks it is one of those strange routine things , what or who is watching her fury” Bruce gritted his teeth. 

“ hydra” he sighed. 

 “ we have to tell her” . 

“ Just let's think of a plan , she's safe now with nat and the guys” tony sighed not really knowing what to do.

 “ We need to tell them tony. "I know i’ll send the file, let her family give her the chance to tell her, i better go to see if they need back up  “ he felt his own heart fall into his stomach as he pulled his phone out . 

Walking into the kitchen nat gave her a quick hello before answering the phone and rushing out the room.  

“ How was the church?” her mother smiled. 

“ I didn't go in , me and Bucky walked around town and had lunch” she smiled brightly. 

“  Let me guess bacon burger and milkshake”.

 “ most definitely shared stories of the past and even had grandma laughing” she sat . “ Maybe she is dying,” Izzy mused as Maya slapped her arm . 

“ we were talking about pop pop , wonder if he would be proud of me” her eyes fell to  her hands in her lap . 

“ Would he, that’s a stupid question , he’d be down the bars and fishing lake bragging majorly at his kitty kicking ass  and saving the world” .

 “actually kicking names and taking ass” she chuckled, only for them to be confused as the inside joke. 

All of her years being in the life she had moments she loved and moments she hated  and as she looked at the file on the jet computer this was a moment she despised completely.  The moment in time finding out her close friend represented her own in a way , a family raising her for an evil organization yet this time it was prolonged .  how was she going to explain to her best friend her life was basically a lie , that the ones she loved were just pretending to care . 

“ What is this” was all she heard, turning to see Steve and Bucky standing completely shocked at the words on the screen of the jet's computer. 

“ This is why she has been followed ,  she’s an experiment from hydra god i hate that even came out of my mouth because she’s not , she’s  our Y/N “ nat sighed. 

“ what?” . 

“ she’s a experiment , her mother is a test subject , they pumped her full of serums under the guise of being some new drug for expectant mothers but she died during the childbirth and well Y/N was kept so they could continue it that was  now she must be with host family” nat growled the last parted . 

“ we have to tell her , i mean this is a big thing to hide” bucky feet heading towards the door only to look up and see her father standing looking like the color vacated his face. 

“ explain” nat growled .

“ Where's dad?” she asked, seeing the two boys coming into the kitchen . 

“ He's on that jet seeing if the others are coming in” Jack shrugged. 

“ probably showing off” she mused but still she felt her eyes looking to the door. 

“I’ll get them” she smiled softly, kissing her mothers cheek before heading out to the door.  Just as she stepped off the porch the car stopped in front of her screeching . 

 “ YOU DRUGGED US”  the voice screamed as she felt her heart beating and her body shaking.

 “ you insolent child , what was the soldiers attention on my daughters too much? '' her aunt's voice called coming toward her . then the world went a mumbling and muttering like she was underwater , she could hear the protest of cassie sort of but the fear in her had her in almost like internal bubble. 

 “ hey back the fuck up before i pull those dollar store extensions out of your head” she heard izzy voice standing before her and jessies arms around her pulling her back to earth .  

“ she made a fool of us in front of the avengers because of her vendetta against us” leah screeched. 

“ vendetta you almost killed her” izzy growled  the whole commotion as they stood out of the jet. 

“ whats going on? '' Nat asked, coming to her side for the first time ever seeing the powerhouse she knew all these years, shaking like a scared child . 

“ i don’t know why you think you're so special , you’ll never be one of us. ''Emma cried, holding her still sore stomach. 

“ i don’t know why you hate her but she is family. '' Izzy went to dive at the woman but Jack held her back. 

'' You're still feeding them that crap” her aunt scoffed. 

“ what are you talking about? '' Jessie spat. 

“ she is not one of us..”. 

'' Shut up, don't be so cold, let us tell her '' her mother cried . 

“ what you talkin about tell her .. what’s going on” she felt the world spinning completely , everything so much as her knees threatening to fail holding her up .

 “ Mom, stop this is ridiculous , I wish I was never part of you guys” cassie cried. 

“ live somewhere else hey sis since you take unwanted dumpster babies you can take one more”. “ mama” y/n spun around. 

“ What is going on” Jessie snapped. 

“ Well your mom and dad found her in a dumpster and we all had to pretend she was our family, sad really” Emma snarled . 

“ mama” she asked again looking for the woman to tell her it was a sick lie but the look she gave her was  there was truth in there words . “ It was all a lie” she asked, feeling the stinging tears falling down her cheeks . “ i  can’t breathe” she pushed off her brother walking away from the gang of her family or where they are strangers now. She didn’t listen to the calls from her or the fighting going on behind her.  Her skin becoming brighter as the flames took over not letting anything or one come closer it was all too much . she started running straight to the one thing she could always depend on and  gripping  the reigns in her hands  and belting out jumping over the cars ignoring the cries and pleading to come back .  

She knew something was always off , how she was always treated so differently . Never accepted nor values and only got worse when she got her “gifts” . The way they could never be proud of her , she could solve world hunger and bring peace to the universe And they would still find a way to find a way to criticize her. Everything she tried To get their approval it was met with a wall and disapproving scowls. It all made sense but her parents to Keep something so big , so major away from her.  It was soul destroying why would they keep It , where were her birth parents why didn't they want her? She heard the car Coming she turned slightly relieved That it wasn't a familiar one except it beep spooking Star as she turned to see the incoming branch so quick she couldn't miss it only for it to hit her head And send her straight to the ground as the horse kept going. 

“ oh shit my bad” the voice called. 

“ well you shouldn't have beeped asshole” she groaned She couldn't focus her vision and the warm liquid going Into her eyes didn't help . 

“ here let me” he Walked and instantly  She felt some thing was off moving away from the man her hands filled with flames shooting them into the sky About almost as a flare Hoping Someone would see it .

 “ I ain't gonna hurt you I just do the delivery “ she could hear the cockiness in his voice. 

“ get away from me it's a warning”. 

“ how The head?” He asked. 

“ perfect “ she smiled wiping the blood off Her eye. Her Hand ready as he walked The flames got stronger ready to toast the creep .

“ You are gonna pass out either way Just get in the car” .  She didn't Like he was right she could feel the exhaustion Take over.  

“ she not alone creeper” a voice Called. 

“ tony?” She whisper.

 “ hello my little pyro baby” he called as he blasted the car as a jet  Parked behind her. “ oh buddy you wanna hope my horse Is ok” She laughed . 

“ put the gun down dipshit” she could hear Tony's eyes rolling as she stood behind Him . 

“ Who's in the jet” she asked . 

“ that's not us  , the guys are coming you think you can help hold Them off Til then” she asked. 

“ I think I can burn bitches , ask questions later” she nodded seeing them slowly approaching her . 

 “ lets show them why is a bad idea to mess with us then kiddo”  he shot the a blast as the agents began running towards them . she started throwing blast of her  own hitting them ignoring the scream from the men as she felt the flame push higher  trying to keep herself from falling or letting tony to deal with it alone only for her whole body to go on flames like a surge of power burned through her as she took on a new lease on life suddenly she didn’t feel pain nor tired she felt something else though like she thought of everything else and shift of her mind and the flames where gone completely . 

“ holy shit” she gasped as tony turned to see her looking down as the vines came from her palms wrapping around the agents .

 “ did you know you could do that?” he asked. 

“ really does it look like i knew ?” she asked looking at her hands in disbelief. 

“ freak out later” he huffed knocking the delivery man unconscious .  

“ i don’t feel so good” she said softly before hitting the ground only for tony to see the dart sticking in her neck . 

“ shit shit” . 

“ stay back here also thanks for the lift”  nat called as they ran over tony . 

“  where can i help” jessie asked.

“ knock em out” nat threw her batons over . 

“  she ok?” steve asked. 

“ dart to the neck , vines and shit  , i’ll  explain later” tony called nodding to more agents coming out of the jet.   

“ ready soldier and knock out don’t kill” nat called . “

 i  know what to do natalia” bucky called. 

“ i meant the other soldier forget it go” she charged towards each of them taking them down easily and thankfully to his training and past years in combat spots jessie was able to hold his own while bucky stayed near y/n not daring to let anyone close to her til he was able to get her to the car safely wondering how it went so good to so bad almost in a blink of an eye.   Least it wasn’t what nat thought well not fully what she thought and it was better she heard it herself once she woke up . agents down as they used whatever was to hand to detain them knowing fury had shield already on the way  the moment before tony could even land . 

“ who was that and why did they sedate my little sister” jessie panted handing nat back her batons  as he pulled took the dart up only for tony to take it . 

“ hydra and they want her back “ tony  flew off heading in the direction of the ranch. 

“ lets get her off the ground” only for bucky to life her up  seeing a flower in her hand almost clutching it . 

 “I’ll get star” was all jessie said heading off as they drove off knowing he would follow off . as they drove the shield vans drove straight passed almost too fast while she was completely out cold as bucky guarded her barely even letting nat check her over . they pulled into the drive seeing her family the other clearing out after nat told them colorfully what she would do if they didn’t . her cousin sitting completely lost knowing it was for the best but it didn’t hurt less knowing her own parents and sibling were borderline shallow ego filled monsters . 

“ what happened is she ok ?” jack asked almost lost himself in a spilt moment the family shifted and change not with y/n though didn’t matter  she was their sister. 

“ she out cold but she be ok well sort of” nat smiled weakly . 

“ you’re friends in the jet … where is jessie” izzy asked unsure of what to even do . 

“ coming he’s getting star, jack you wanna get the door we need to get her to bed” bucky asked . 

“ course erm cassie come on we can show you to the guest room” he called as the girl nodded heading into the house.  “ she ok she just needs rest” he explained as his parents rushed to her side.  

“ erm i don’t have clothes or anything?” cassie sniffled . 

“ me and maya will get your things” izzy smiled softly. 

“ i’ll get your things” jessie stormed in not once looking at his parents only checking y/n then storming out. 

“ jack “ izzy nodded as he followed. “ he’s alway been protective of y/n probably cause knew deep down she was like him “ izzy explained. 

“ like him how?” bucky asked confused . 

“ well he must of known deep down she was adopted like him , which i don’t understand this we knew he was , why is y/n different we wouldn’t have treated her different” . 

“ adopted or like y/n adopted “ bucky looked at her dad. 

“ what’s the difference?” 

“ he knows why , answer me “ bucky asked . 

“ y/n adopted “ her dad sighed as bucky almost growled carrying her out of the door to the jet not  stopping . 

“ y/n not the first “ was all he said as they looked at him wondering if the revelation would ever end .

Part 6

taglist : @vicmc624 @babble28 @scott-loki-barnes @ozwriterchick

[talxns]

omg just came across that post and pls pls share ur thoughts on 60s brudick

Don’t mind if I do!!!

Batman (1966-68) is such an odd little treasure-trove of content when you look at it with a particular lens. Of course there are meta aspects of the show that kind of support the subtle brudick reading– the addition of the Aunt Harriet character to create some kind of buffer between the two guys constantly being together, and the addition of Barbara Gordon in season 3 to try to add a (kind of?) consistent love interest for Bruce so he didn’t seem as bored with women as he kind of gave off since he barely spent any time with anyone who wasn’t Dick. And Dick’s actor Burt Ward supposedly stated in his autobiography that Bruce and Dick could be interpreted as lovers.

Compared to modern interpretations, the characters of Bruce and Dick themselves are lighter, which complements the “campy” humorous tone of the show. Reference to Bruce’s parents happens only once, and Dick’s backstory is never addressed. This Batman doesn’t prowl around every night, tormented by his demons and pushing his loved ones away. He only goes out as Batman when Commissioner Gordon rings for him, always brings along Robin, and a majority of Batman and Robin’s crime-fighting takes place during the day.

This Bruce Wayne is kind of a do-no-wrong character. He’s never rude, he’s insistently law-abiding, and he’s never shown doing anything truly debaucherous, and the implication is that he just… Never does anything debauched ever. He never smokes or drinks alcohol, but not as much as a virtue of control as it is upholding a strict moral code against it. (He will order juice or more commonly milk when any kind of drinking is expected). This Bruce is kind of insufferable in his insistence of upholding good moral standing, and will take precious time to teach a moral lesson to Dick whenever he can think of one. And basically Bruce Wayne and Brucie Wayne are one in the same in this universe. His demeanor in public is the same as his demeanor in private.

Dick is similarly one dimensional. He is a goody-two-shoes like his guardian, though he has his outbursts of frustration which Bruce immediately tamps down on with some good old fashioned moral instruction. Dick will never fight Bruce’s word, will instantly agree with everything Bruce tells him, and will stroke his ego afterwards (Gosh, Bruce, you’re right! x100). This Dick is an excellent student, has many different hobbies (some of which he is very much not good at but Bruce still insists that he practice them), but doesn’t seem to be very cool compared to his classmates. He’s actually rather awkward and embarrassing when he tries. It’s probably because he’s spending all his time with Bruce, like a vicious cycle of relying on Bruce because he can’t relate to the cool kids at school and not being a cool kid because he’s hanging out with Bruce all day lol.

In Bruce and Dick’s freetime, they are together. There are maybe 4 or 5 instances out of 120 episodes where Bruce and Dick are not spending their day together before Gordon calls. It’s delightfully absurd. It’s certainly for the reasons to ease the plot, so they can be in the same place to start the episode’s story, but it gives the impression that Bruce Wayne almost exclusively spends all his time with Dick Grayson.

The show does a good job illustrating just how incredibly loyal and devoted to one another these characters are.

In an episode taking place at Dick’s high school, the other students tease him for being the ward of a millionaire, and Dick gets pretty defensive over it. In one of the rare instances that Dick is not with Bruce (on a date with a classmate), he is called by him, and dumps a milkshake on his date so he can have an excuse to go to Bruce. (Instances of Dick not being afforded a normal dating life during his teens and young adulthood because Bruce needs him is kind of a long running theme with these characters, isn’t it.)

There are a couple episodes where Bruce refuses to fight against brainwashed Dick (though there is an episode where Dick doesn’t return the favor and punches a brainwashed Bruce after apologizing in advance for it lol)

Bruce is adamant about Dick’s place at his side. Two times, Catwoman feigns innocence and offers to work with Batman as a partner. Bruce always reminds her of Robin being his partner, to which she always offers to kill him, and it always unsurprisingly upsets Bruce.

Bruce states that he would give up his life for Dick and tries to swap places with him when he’s in danger.

Dick is willing to let a villian fall to her death if she doesn’t cure Bruce of a spell she put him under. He is willing to let her dangle on the ledge of a tall building if she doesn’t promise to make Bruce normal again. Savage.

In the series, Dick is around 15-16 years old, since at the start he doesn’t have his license and by the end he gets it, and Bruce gives him a shiny red convertible for passing his driving test. You can just tell that when this Dick goes off to college, Bruce is going to be a wreck without him. What is he going to do all day now!?

Basically, aside from the 1943 black and white Batman serial, this was the first time we see a live action Bruce and Dick. And they are shown in all their devoted glory. In my opinion, this is the best live action interpretation of Dick and Bruce together (Sorry Schumacher fans), even if it’s very silly and dated. Kinda sad that there aren’t many options to choose from.

And since this Batman works on kind of an on-call system and isn’t vehemently patrolling the streets every night, isn’t really tormented by guilt and grief and never-ending duty, it’s really easy to extrapolate lazy evenings where Bruce and Dick are just simply enjoying each other’s company. Drinking tea and milk, reading poetry, and not being able to stay away from each other. In this universe, Aunt Harriet would never catch on, but Alfred would know and give them his blessing. Dick would push for more physical affection, Bruce would chastise him and teach him some moral lesson about abstinence, Dick would immediately fold and they’d go back to their hand holding and closed mouth kisses. That’s just the way this Bruce and Dick are. And it’s kind of refreshing in a pure and soft way.

I urge anyone to give the 60s Batman series a shot. Yeah, it’s goofy, yeah, Bruce and Dick seem out of character compared to modern interpretations, but hey, they are still valid interpretations, and it’s easy to see just how transparently they care for each other.

[marzzthehuman]

umm actuakly guys while i was at the lake i came up with my OWN mizu5 plot.

basically like. mizuki gets outed n then they run off (i was correct on this) and then they run into rui and an and rui n an are like omg what happened and then mizukis all sad so they take her off to the side and are like what happened and shes like i got outed and theyre like oh that wont do so they take her out for milkshakes n fries and then yeah thats as far as i got

[purplespacekitty]

just wanna formally apologize to anyone i've been INTENSE about Riverdale to. not because i love Riverdale. because Jughead Jones is canonically touch-averse and aroace and i will never, EVER, evereverevereverever forgive Riverdale for willfully ignoring that.

also, they barely showed our boy with any burgers or fries or milkshakes or gummy worms or any kind of food throughout the whole show. a travesty. dude held a PC controller maybe once. and uh, i don't think they ever had him playing his drum set. ...they tried to do the whole music thing, but The Archies never happened on Riverdale. could have been a great way to keep Josie and the Pussycats in the picture as crossovers between the two comic lines (and additionally, with Sabrina The Teenage Witch) have commonly been used to keep stories going, but it just dissolved before it could even start. anyway, Jughead Jones was born to eat burgers, dispense witty remarks on his friends’ social drama, wage prank wars and play drums, it's literally his destiny (and so is being Archie's best bud).

and like.

here's the thing.

i know, i know, i know that Riverdale isn't the Archie Comics. it's "edgy" or whatever. but like, have you ever read the Archie Comics?????? there are hundreds of storylines more edgy than Riverdale's and in (probably) every single one of them, Jughead eats more net burgers than he eats in all 7 seasons of Riverdale. he has his little angsty plots and crazy nonsensical adventures and is never as deprived of food and games as he is in Riverdale.

he's been this way since 1939, when the Archie Comics first came about. granted, video games didn't exist then, but his whole deal has always been eating burgers and being Archie's best pal. he's a breath of fresh air, a glass of cold water to the face for Archie and the gang to snap them out of their various problems (mostly love- and dating-related, but sometimes friendship- or science or general-good-time-adventure-related). he is often the voice of reason, which is why Riverdale!Jughead doesn't really work. original Jughead has a unique perspective, being primarily preoccupied with food and video games and avoiding all potentially romantic/sexual situations that might involve him: he can observe everything without getting (too) mixed up in all of it. and the more wisdom he imparts to his friends; the more jokes and witty comments he concocts during a given meet-up at Pop's; the more he goofs off and plays pranks on his friends and enemies, the more secure their collective friendship is. and he's perfectly happy with the state of things. he doesn't yearn for romance or sex, all he truly yearns for is a day spent eating burgers with his friends. as long as he has a snack readily available, he's happy to be alone or on an adventure. his natural state is in solitude, which is a state he sometimes has to seek out, but he never has to go far in any quest for company. it's exactly where he wants to be. he would rather have his cake and eat it, too. Riverdale!Jughead inserts himself into the chaos, which original Jughead would rather play a game of football against Reggie than willfully do.

i think Riverdale tried to play into Jughead's comfortability with and preference for his general nonconformism with that whole "i’m a weirdo" speech, but ultimately failed because in the end, they still had him conforming to norms the original Jughead scoffs at. and Bughead, as the literal 85 years of Archie Comics and 7 seasons of Riverdale (in which Bughead basically become kinda-sorta-maybe-almost-pseudo step-siblings??? idk the whole thing between FP and Alice just makes it too weird for me) clearly demonstrate, added nothing to either Jughead’s or Betty’s characters and only contributed to the erasure of one of the longest running aroace characters there is. when the comics did try to give Jughead love interests, it was either extremely out of character, played for laughs as a way to shame him for not being interested in romance or just simply…didn’t work. usually some combination of all of the above. because Jughead is fundamentally aroace and has no desire to be with anyone in a romantic or sexual way. plus it kinda messes up the whole premise of the Archie Comics? teenage boy can’t choose between best friends Girl Next Door and Uptown Girl, who both care for him and each other equally, so he dates them both? it would have been way more refreshing to see them explore the complex open/polyamorous relationship that Archie, Betty and Veronica have been negotiating for 85 years through a more queer and empathetic lens than what Riverdale actually turned out to be. maybe they wouldn’t have erased Jughead’s queerness or sidelined other canonically queer characters (i.e. Kevin, Toni, Fangs, etc.) if they’d taken that route. it would be cool to see a plot within the Archie universe constructively centering queerness as a main element of its characters as storyline.

Riverdale refused to keep the most essential parts of the original Jughead's character: aversion to physical touch, romance and sex, an aggressive adoration for burgers, rhythm and musicality and his ability to separate himself from tense situations in order to problem-solve. what the other characters often sneer at or find frustrating about him are actually the things that solidify his importance in their lives. he balances them out. and there are moments when his friends recognize and celebrate that. and him being this essential, inextricable part of an iconic friend group in the comics is an extremely heartwarming thing to see as an arospec/acespec person, myself.

this was supposed to be an apology, wasn't it...oops? sorry?

Riverdale just kinda missed the whole point of Jughead Jones. and i WILL be salty about it forever.

[wouldntyou-liketoknow]

Just Another Night at Sparky's

(Disclaimer: Ness/WaiterPat and Jack/Cabbie!Cory are not my creations. I gave Jack his name because he wasn't given one in the movie. Now, one of the characters you'll be seeing here technically belongs to me, but I don't really consider him a full fanego.)

(I was already planning to write for Ness and Jack, but after I learned how Mark was originally intended to play the role of that first security guard who died, I decided to adopt that abandoned character. Go here for headcanons and a more thorough explanation.)

(Certain plot-points in this story were inspired by @flawlessstriker and @insane4fandoms! These two are very talented artists, and I'm not sure I would've thought of such clever/funny easter eggs if I hadn't seen some of their own work, so please go check out their blogs and show them some love!)

(Trigger Warnings: food and drink, eating/drinking, implied trauma, mentions of past violence, mentions of blood, strong language. Please let me know if I missed anything.) 

In Ness’ personal experience, the people who dined at Sparky’s could be divided into three sections on a metaphorical pie chart. 

Twenty-four percent of customers were. . .just a little off. Not like that was necessarily a bad thing, mind you. Working in the restaurant business meant having to interact with lots of people each and every day. At some point, you’d learn to pick up on certain things that were odd in the way you couldn’t quite put your finger on (or, perhaps you just knew deep down that you didn’t want to). 

Ness strolled out of the kitchen and into the seating area, expertly balancing a tray on one hand. He approached a couple of bespectacled young women in one corner of the diner. 

Their visits to Sparky’s were a bit sporadic, but they never failed to claim that one booth in the corner that no-one else ever sat at no matter how crowded the joint was. The backpacks they always hauled along were positioned further up the booth’s seat cushions, half-open and nearly overspilling with various books. 

They always used indoor voices, but he could still pick up bits and pieces of their conversation whenever he was near. 

Tonight was no different:

“—he’ll be hungrier than usual,” murmured the one on the left, who boasted short, wavy hair that had been dyed a dark shade of violet. It complimented her shirt, which read ADOPT A FAMILIAR at the top. Pictures of creepy-looking critters were displayed beneath the message, orange-eyed and outlined by blue against the black fabric. “And he’ll need a live one this time.”

“Ooh,” replied the one on the right, who sported a yellow shirt with the screen-printed likeness of some obscure, spikey-haired cartoon character near the collar. A blonde ponytail spilled out from the back of her ball cap. “Who’s it gonna be? The lady whose eyes were found in that jar last month?”

“Nah, she’ll be in some psych ward. Too far-gone to keep on the playing board, y’know?” A sly grin etched its way across Urban Fantasy Nerd’s features. “I was actually wondering if you’d like to choose. Your guy is making the delivery, after all.”

“Ah, that’s right!” Cartoon-Fan snickered in a way that was just a teensy bit unhinged. “I can already see him slipping on some of the blood."

“Third time’s a charm?” Ness asked as he halted, carefully setting this duo’s Usual on the table. 

(Two milkshakes: one chocolate, the other strawberry. Yeah, it was kind of basic, but he wasn’t too much of a judgemental guy. Besides, Sparky’s shakes were a much safer option than the lilac-colored drinks that chicken shack around the corner had started selling. And Ness didn’t just carry that opinion because of his employment. During one of his typical night-walks, he’d passed an alley just in time to see said purple beverage oozing through said chicken shack’s windows. The strong, sugary smell wafting off it had reminded him of prion disease.)

The girls both paused. Though they smiled up at him and offered quiet “Thank-yous,” as they moved their respective, sticker-covered laptops out of the way, visible confusion mixed itself into their gratitude. 

“For the university’s creative writing contest, I mean,” Ness elaborated. “There were articles in the paper about the last two, and I saw your pictures in the list of winners. Congratulations, by the way.”

“. . .Oh,” Urban Fantasy Nerd answered, exchanging careful glances with her friend. “Yeah. Writing. Let’s go with that.”

“If anyone asks, we were also writing here two months ago,” Cartoon-Fan added with a conspiratory wink. “On Friday, between five-thirty and nine o’clock.” 

Ness chuckled, raising one hand to pull an invisible zipper over his lips. “You’ve got it. Enjoy.”

As he retraced his steps to organize some stuff behind the coffee counter, a little voice in the back of his theater-trained head wondered if the girls’ tones had been joking enough. Unlike many times before, he pushed that voice aside.

On one hand, missing person cases did always seem to pop up on the news channels a few days after the two students stopped by to enjoy milkshakes while typing away and occasionally turning the screens of their laptops toward one another. 

On the other hand. . .well, those cases were always located states and states away, typically near more seaside areas. None of them had been anywhere close to Utah. (Not yet, at least.)

Besides, even if those girls were somehow connected to more sinister things than their coursework, they were still very nice. Good tippers, too. Nowhere near the worst patrons Ness had served in his time.

The strange customers almost always seemed to come in pairs.

Like the duo of twenty-somethings from last week. One sported ginger hair and a She/They button pinned to their  jacket. The soot-stains on said jacket had been very obvious, as were the burn scars on their palms, but she’d still been a delight to make smalltalk with.

The other, a pale young man, had been much more quiet, but still friendly. He’d kept peering through the window at (what was presumably) his or his friend’s car, shakily fidgeting with the headphones around his neck, so it’d taken some time for Ness to realize that his eyes were just as reflective as mirrors.

(For the duration of their stay, the jukebox over by the counter had spat out songs that most certainly weren’t on its index cards. Fine, that might’ve caught Ness a bit off-guard at first, but he still knew to appreciate variety.)

Or the two men who’d come in a few months ago, wearing battered navy-blue bomber jackets and thousand-yard-stares. The one with a dyed-red fauxhawk had screamed and practically leapt out of his skin when Ness came over with menus and his usual greeting, but he’d apologized soon enough. After giving Ness a thorough look-over, that is.

His companion, a similarly dark-eyed man with a larynx that could only be found on seasoned musicians, had muttered, “Don’t mind him. We’ve just. . .had a bit of a rough trip.” His voice hadn’t been unkind, but he’d kept glancing at Ness whenever he thought he wasn’t looking. 

Well, perhaps that particular pair had broken the trend a bit. Because a few hours after they’d paid for their food and left, a lone traveler had come in.

His bloodshot eyes—which Ness could’ve sworn were orange instead of brown—had never stopped bulging, never stopped darting this way and that above his rictus of a smile. When he wasn’t speaking, he’d hum or murmur things with a shakiness that was typically found in rabid dogs.

He’d asked for way more coffee refills than could ever be considered healthy, as well as if Ness had seen anyone fitting the descriptions of Red-Haired-Screamer and Wary-Possible-Musician. Ness, following his instincts, had said no, to which the loner started simply shaking his head and grinning with a mouthful of teeth that looked a smidge too sharp.

Or the scruffy man who'd started coming in for breakfast every other week with his young sister in tow. He was living proof that you could recognize someone without officially knowing them. After all, it was pretty damn easy for Ness to remember almost making eye-contact with him, barely moving out of reach of his flashlight’s beam in time, and then having the seconds feel like hours as he watched him shake his head and mutter to himself about seeing things. 

It wasn’t like that’d been Ness’ first little midnight rendezvous around Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzaria. Just like how that particular man wasn’t the first security guard who’d gotten dangerously close to spotting him during his unofficial, self-driven investigations.

For the record, Ness knew that said investigations weren’t legal—especially not if you counted some of the things he’d. . .borrowed from the old animatronic jamboree restaurant—but he’d made his peace with that.

He hadn’t been sneaking around there to deal drugs or partake in any himself.

He wasn’t exactly chasing the adrenaline that always came with an evening full of ducking around corners and trying to ignore how loud his shoes sounded against linoleum floors when he rushed to find anything he could feasibly hide behind, underneath, or inside of.

He never meant any harm when it came to snooping.

It was just a simple case of having a little too much curiosity.

Thankfully, Security Guard #13 still had yet to show up at Ness’ place with some accompanying cops, so it seemed he didn’t recognize Ness as anything other than a humble waiter. (Or, if he did actually recognize Ness from that night, then he was miraculously chill enough to not bring it up and get him in trouble.)

The very first time they’d paid Sparky’s a visit, it would’ve been impossible to ignore the distinct smell that had been wafting off of Security Guard #13. It’d had a bite to it; like machine oil mixed with something much more. . .organic.

From that bleak look Ness had seen in his eyes, Security Guard #13 was most certainly NOT what anyone could call unbothered, but he was still polite. Plus, Kid Sister was the type who just deserved all the crayons in the world, what with the little masterpieces she’d decorated the paper menus with.

So, yeah. There was a genuine difference between oddball customers and customers that made you lose some of your faith in humanity. 

People who asked for trout to be blended into their yogurt parfait or for their donuts to be topped with slices of pickles that had gathered fuzz from their mysterious journeys at the back of the refrigerator were still easier to handle than people who threw temper tantrums because they didn’t get a refill in under thirty seconds. 

Back to the pie-chart—another forty-six percent of customers were perfectly decent and standard.

Plenty of the locals had a soft spot for this joint; Ness had lost count of all the times he’d been told that the pancakes served here were some of the best on planet Earth. Yeah, praise like that technically wasn’t directed at him, but the cooks were great people to work with, so it still made him happy to relay said praise to them. 

He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t awkward for someone to confusedly ask if they’d already seen him working at the bar on the other side of town. Even so, that once-a-month occurrence always left him amused rather than annoyed. If anything, it attested to that particular customer’s observation skills. 

Sure, he and Sans were identical twins—the fact that their uncle had mixed them up on several different occasions when they were little was still a running joke in the family. But it’d been years since Sans had decided to remedy that via a skeleton face-mask and a dark blue leather jacket, and he’d made a habit to don both aforementioned garments each day ever since then. (Ness was still in partial disbelief that the manager at Grillby’s was cool enough to let Sans wear them over his uniform.)

Just as many of Sans’ customers apparently ended up mistaking him for Ness. Sans got a nice little kick out of that, of course. He hadn’t just been born with a comedic heart—it truly seemed every bone in his body was a funny one. Some people would argue that he just delivered puns upon more puns upon even more puns, but Ness knew his brother better than that. 

After all, Sans had been the one to train him to deal with the last category of customers: the thirty percent of entitled neanderthals who thought treating staff as less than human would somehow magically make their miserable lives more interesting. 

“Food work is all about balance,” Sans had explained sometime after he and Ness had grown tall enough to take plates and cups from a counter without having to stand on their tip-toes. “You’ve gotta be nice and still let people know that you won’t take their crap. If they’re civil, then you’re helpful. But if they’re rude. . .” Sans had paused, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “. . .then you have a little fun.” 

Ness had always been a pretty fast learner. It’d taken a week or so of practice, yeah, but with his twin’s help, he’d developed a tongue sharp enough to rival any butcher knife in the kitchen.

“You use a lot of big words for a waiter,” snorted a wannabe business bigshot with a wrinkled clip-on tie and a way, waaaaaay over-gelled hairdo that spoke volumes of desperation. 

Ness, who’d been explaining the differences between certain ingredients and flavor-enhancing chemicals because Hair Gel’s girlfriend had asked a fair question about the smoothies on the menu, barely batted an eyelid when he came back with, “And you smell a lot like hotdog water for someone who apparently doesn’t work with food.”

“This was the WORST thing I’ve ever put in my mouth!” Exclaimed a woman with an unidentifiable crust caked around the corners of her eyes and an ill-fitting shirt that was advertising some essential oil brand.

“I highly doubt that,” Ness mentioned, raising an eyebrow as he took the plate (which was suspiciously much emptier than when he’d first brought it out) from her table, “but whatever you say. . .”

“Oh! Thank you!” A tiny boy who couldn’t have been older than seven chirped, bouncing in his seat when Ness placed a sundae down in front of him.

Ness had been about to reply, but the boy’s mother—a lady who was trying very hard to look posh (but not succeeding very well due her asymmetrical haircut, as well as all the little green marks around the jewelry she was practically drowning in)—cut him off. 

“You don’t need to thank him, sweetheart,” she’d instructed, reaching across the table to corral her son. “That’s his job.”

That one had, admittedly, forced Ness to take a deep breath and appeal to his higher self for a few seconds.  Despite this, he’d still made sure to look that Karen dead in the eyes when he observed, “I’m not sure what your problem is, ma’am. But it must be hard for you to pronounce.”

(At least the boy didn’t seem to be too influenced; his bright eyes were nothing but apologetic when Ness came back with the check.)

The relative silence was shattered by the jingling call of that little bell suspended over the front entrance. Ness blinked, his train of thought screeching to a halt. He glanced over in the door’s direction, grinning at a familiar sight. 

Another regular; one that Ness got to have actual conversations with on nights like tonight. 

Mason glanced around at all the empty tables, brushing back his nearly shoulder-length raven hair and quickly getting the hint that he could just seat himself.

A golden retriever trotted beside him, connected to a leash in his hand via a pink vest that’d been fastened around her shoulders and belly. It was adorned by black velcro straps that read THERAPY DOG in a bold white font. The forest-green sherpa hoodie Mason always seemed to wear was only about half as fluffy as her fur.

Ness ducked into the kitchen. No more than three seconds had passed before the last cook on duty for tonight—a lanky blonde guy who was perhaps the most unapologetically flamboyant foodie you could ever have the honor of knowing—called, “Order Up! Your buddies’ Usuals, fresh from that babbling kiddie pool of oil.”

Dylan set a triad of dishes onto a waiting platter: the first held a stack of waffles (much like Sparky’s pancakes, their recipe was a secret that his very own grandmother had entrusted him with) and fried chicken tenders. The second supported a small mound of bacon. The third was adorned by a couple club sandwiches with a side of mozzarella sticks.  

“Thanks, man. Right on time,” Ness called back as he hefted the platter up, balancing it on the anterior region of his forearm like he'd been taught so long ago, and traipsed back out. The door swung to and fro behind him as he headed over to Booth Five. 

Though she wasn’t actually in the booth, Checkers was still right by her owner’s side, sitting in a way that could almost remind you of those lion statues guarding the entrance to a Chinese temple. She spotted Ness before Mason did. Her ears perked up, tail starting to wag. Her tongue lapped in and out of her mouth like a party favor as she smiled in that way only dogs could.

Mason, who’d been gazing through the window and fidgeting with his hoodie’s drawstrings, ever-so-slightly flinched as Ness began setting the plates down on the table with a chorus of small clunks. He blinked at the food, as if suddenly remembering the weekly tradition he’d made here.

“How do you always do that?” Mason asked as he turned his head toward Ness, a small smile etching its way across his features. 

“Magic,” Ness answered. “Careful, it’s hot.”

He carried the now empty tray back over to the counter. There, his hands became a blur as he snatched up the coffee pot and produced a trio of mugs. After stirring memorized amounts of cream and sugar into the fresh brew, he returned to the table, setting two of the beverages beside the plates.

Ness hovered, his own cup of smoldering caffeine in hand, and glanced around the restaurant. Aside from Mason and those two writers in the corner (who, as Ness had learned, took generous amounts of time with the shakes they always ordered), Sparky’s was empty tonight. 

With that in mind, Ness dragged a chair away from one of the other tables, positioning it at the end of the booth. Yeah, he could’ve just sat on the opposite side of Mason, but that part of the booth was typically reserved for another one of his friends.

Subtle relief washed over Ness’ knees as he took a seat; he’d been standing and walking pretty much all day.

Mason plucked a strip of bacon from one of the plates, checking to make sure that it was nice and warm without threatening to burn the palette. He then lightly tossed it over to Checkers, who snapped it out of the air almost like a frog catching flies. She lowered her head as the treat crunched between her teeth.

“How’ve things been?” Ness inquired, taking a sip of his coffee. “The theater’s gotten busy, yeah?”

Mason nodded as he took a fork and knife into his hands, cutting a piece off of one of the waffles and dipping it into the complimentary cup of syrup. “Yeah, it really has. Feels like whenever one movie runs its course and is taken off our roster, two more pop up in its place. Especially now that Scream 3 is finally on the market."

“. . .Oh, that’s right! It is!” Ness ever-so-slightly jumped in his seat. After enjoying the first two movies, he’d been meaning to give the latest installment a look. But so far, whether it was Sparky’s being slammed on the more favorable days or Royal Edgar’s Cinema being too crowded for his liking, things had just kept getting in the way.

Acting on instinct, Ness fished a pencil from one of his waist-apron’s pockets. At first, said pencil might not have seemed like anything special. But then you saw Fabio: a priceless treasure shaped like a rubber chicken’s head covering up the eraser. Ness started spinning the pencil between his fingers, causing Fabio to wiggle as though it was alive.

“Have you seen it already? Is it good? I have so many ideas about where the story could pick up from—”

“Hey, hey. Slow down," Mason remarked with some clear exasperation. “I haven't, but I am scheduled to project its last showing sometime next week. . .” He took a bite out of one of the chicken tenders, humming thoughtfully as he chewed. He must’ve seen the glint in Ness’ eyes, because he offered a sly smirk and lowered his voice as he continued.

“Tell you what: I’ll find a way to sneak you into the projection booth. That way, we can check it out together when the day comes.” 

“Really? You’d do that for me?” Ness asked, jokingly clutching his mug in both hands and bringing it close to his heart. 

“Sure. It’s really not too different from the customers smuggling their own snacks past the ticket desk,” Mason shrugged, though his mischievous demeanor briefly turned deadpan. “So long as you don’t play detective the entire time. My boss would rip me a new one if I just paused the movie every five minutes to let you brainstorm and talk.”

Ness scoffed, rolling his eyes. “It wouldn’t be every five minutes.”

Mason raised an eyebrow. “You’re right; it’d probably be every two minutes.” He forked up another bite of the waffles, firmly ignoring the offended waiter noises. 

“Oh, and don’t try to guilt-trip me out of my food, either. I’ve already got one moocher to deal with.” Mason scratched Checkers’ ears, to which she responded via tilting her head to the side, an undeniable trace of smugness in the warmth of her amber eyes.

“You drive a hard bargain,” Ness pronounced, his voice dripping with much more sarcasm than usual, “but fine. I can work with that.” 

“Uh-huh. You’d better,” Mason snorted, reaching over to shake hands with his friend as though the two of them were lawyers who’d just settled on some sleazy business arrangement. 

Mason was a complex person. Everyone had issues, and he was no exception to that. Not like he was at all open about said issues, but once you got to know him, you’d start to see them. (Plus, that just seemed a lot nicer than describing him as a swarm of issues shaped like a man.) He was the type to constantly shift in his seat, to give most people the side-eye, to get lost in his thoughts and grimace at nothing until he snapped himself out of it. 

At least he seemed content working at the theater. Even with the spark of horror that never seemed to leave his eyes, Mason was clearly a creative bastard. Sometimes he’d bring notebooks in and take breaks from his meal to fill their pages with paragraphs or sketches. He really did seem to have the potential for acting, maybe even directing. If his critiques and commentary on the movies he had to watch from the projection booth were anything to go by, then the projects he could possibly work on would be nothing short of awesome. 

He’d actually been one of Freddy’s past security guards. Ironically enough, he and Ness hadn’t met there. Not that Ness minded, since A. if that’d been the case, there probably would’ve been way more confused screaming than there usually was at Sparky’s, and B. considering the fact that Mason’s employment had apparently lasted a whopping one singular night. . . 

Ness still didn’t know the full story, and he could tell pressing Mason for info wouldn’t end well. But with the few snippets Jack had carefully enlightened him with. . .well—

Speak of the devil. 

The front door’s bell only had about half a second to chime yet again, almost drowned out by rapid footsteps.

“You’re late,” Ness jokingly chastised as he caught dark brown skin and black hair in his peripheral vision. He shifted in his chair, moving his legs to make some room under the table as another one of his regular-friends hurried over to claim Booth Five’s empty seat. 

“Yeah, yeah. Sue me,” Jack retorted, instantly propping his elbows on the table to knead at his forehead. It took a few long seconds for him to notice how one of his favorite dishes had apparently been waiting for him. He squinted at the food, then at Ness. “. . .I wasn’t sure I’d even be able to make it tonight?”

“And yet, here you are,” Ness replied, the definition of coy with how his shoulders popped up and down again. 

Jack might’ve wanted to ask more questions, but Mason cut him off. “Look, I don’t get it either. He doesn’t know, but he just knows.”

Jack considered this, then tilted his head to convey the type of acceptance that only came when you couldn’t really question things that probably should be questioned because you already had too many things to focus on. 

“Thanks, dude,” he murmured, nodding to Ness as he plucked one of the mozzarella sticks from his plate.

Ness nodded back, taking a few more gulps of coffee. “No problem.”

Jack paused mid-bite, eyes darting over to the brew that’d been poured for him. He scrutinized it, then raised the mug up and started chugging like a champ. 

The display made Ness glad that he’d taken the time to experiment with coffee so long ago. There was no doubting how he could now calculate exactly how much time it took for coffee to go cold. Yeah, this particular serving had been fresh out of the pot a few minutes ago, but by now it had to be at optimal temperature. Neither scalding nor tepid: just nice and warm. 

After about a moment, Jack pulled the now empty mug away from his face, taking a deep breath as he set it back down on the table.

“Rough day?” Ness inquired, specific parts of his brain starting to tick. 

Something seemed off. 

It wasn’t like he had any room to talk about slight bean juice addictions. And he certainly couldn’t blame Jack for a dependency (especially since he’d even shown some undeniable intrigue at Ness’ argument that coffee was a type of soup). Sure, Jack wasn’t narcoleptic, but when a day-and-night operating cabbie didn’t have access to some perks, things just wouldn’t go well for him or his passengers. 

But whenever Jack popped in for a bite and a chat, it was easy to assume that he’d be heading home and going to bed right after his meal. Right now, however, his demeanor was anything but tired. His shoulders were rigid. His eyes were more or less threatening to pop right out of their sockets. In fact, he almost seemed to be weighing the options of never sleeping again. 

Jack chewed his lip as he glanced in the waiter’s direction. He slowly nodded. “. . .You could say that.”

Ness exchanged glances with Mason, who had obviously seen the signs for himself. As did Checkers, since she quietly maneuvered around Ness’ chair to rest her head on Jack’s lap, peering up at him with an almost human-like air of understanding. Jack didn’t hesitate to pet the shiny fur along the dog’s neck, to which her tail started wagging but she otherwise remained still.

“What happened?” Mason asked, sitting up a little straighter. “If the vibes you’re giving off got her attention, then it must be something serious.”

Jack grimaced, closing his eyes with what seemed to be more force than necessary, taking a few long seconds to rub at their lids. 

“Did you see any rabbit-shaped things out by the dumpster? I think they only come around once a month or so, but I always feel strange if I look at them.” The words glided out of Ness’ mouth and into the air before he could think. 

Self-induced humiliation wrapped its awful, clammy hands around his ribcage as two confused glances were aimed in his direction.

“. . .What?” Jack and Mason blurted in near-perfect unison.

“What?” Ness echoed, blinking as his voice instantaneously grew a smidge louder than before. He rushed to plaster his typical, happy-go-lucky demeanor back onto his face, hoping that pretending he hadn’t spoken at all would convince his friends that he actually hadn’t. 

Not only did his latest sentence sound weird as all hell, but it’d also been downplayed as all hell. Because when Ness had said strange, what he’d really meant was the pounding, churning, pummeling agony that should only ever be present in your stomach after you’ve accidentally swallowed a few dozen live rats that just so happen to be whacked out on cocaine for whatever godforsaken reason. 

And while he wasn’t a perfect angel, Ness would never wish that particular pain on anyone else. So, the fewer people who knew about the floppy-eared cryptids (which Ness could’ve sworn looked like they’d been covered in mucus) that were apparently engrossed in  gang warfare with the local raccoons, the better. 

“Ah, did you get a bad passenger today?” Ness coughed. Jack had to deal with as many entitled idiots as Ness, if not even more. Hell, taking turns venting about that stuff was something they’d initially bonded over.

He peered through the window next to the booth—Jack’s cab was parked close enough to see that there wasn’t anything to indicate an accident. Not a life-threateningly serious one, at least. 

“Not exactly,” Jack replied, following his gaze. Where Ness’ eyes were curious, Jack’s were currently anxious and mistrusting. That was another red flag: Jack may not have treated his taxi like it was his baby, but he still took pretty good care of it. “Just a few more weirdos.” 

Mason hummed, tilting his head. “How weird specifically?” He’d heard plenty of Jack’s tales from the road; as he called on Jack for rides somewhat often, he’d even ended up being part of those tales. 

Jack knitted his brows, fidgeted in place. “You don't want to know."

“. . .Then why did you make it sound so damn vague?” Mason retorted, now dripping with incredulousness. “The less specific details are, then the more they’re gonna nag at someone’s brain.”

“He’s got a point,” Ness agreed, lightly tapping Fabio’s pencil against his mug. 

“Like that’s my fault,” Jack snorted. “Most people wouldn’t believe me if I told them.”

Ness offered an encouraging smile. “Good thing we’re not most people, then.”

Mason nodded. “Damn right. C’mon, Jack; are you really saying something could top the crackhead I had to share the backseat with last month?” 

“Yes, I am,” Jack whisper-shouted through gritted teeth, “because it was a bear!” 

Silence (save for the soft click-clack of keyboards from the corner of the diner, that is).

Jack pursed his lips, looking equal parts exasperated and worried. He sighed yet again, reaching up to press his fingers against his temples.

“. . .What kind of bear was it?” Ness eventually tried. 

Mason, who’d previously been squinting while his mouth opened and closed with no words coming out, turned his head to face Ness with such speed and force that he might’ve actually given himself whiplash. “That’s the first thing you focus on?!”

Ness made a shaky lame gesture. “It’s a fair question! What’re you focusing on?” (He wasn’t wrong. There was a lot of variety among bears, after all. And a bear that lived in the woods and had huge claws and could outeat, outrun, outswim, and probably even outdrink the average person would be a lot more to handle than one of the bears that had attended the latest local Pride parade.) 

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that you,” Mason declared, returning his attention to Jack, “look significantly less mauled than most people who get close to bears! Seriously, how is your face still connected to your skull?!” 

“I didn’t mea—!” Jack was about to go on the defensive, but stopped short. “What, were you expecting me to get ripped to shreds tonight? So damn sorry if I didn’t get the memo!”

“No! Of course not!” Mason contended. “Look, you can’t just say you had a run-in with a bear and leave it at that!”

Jack threw his hands up. “Well, I told you you didn’t want to know!”

“How the hell can we not NEED to know now?” Ness pointed out. Though he was growing just as confused as Mason, he tried to keep his voice even.

Jack gave him an exhausted look before craning his neck to rest his head against the booth’s seat, staring at the ceiling. 

“It was a huge robot,” he finally clarified. “Looked like it’d been at the bottom of a scrap heap for years; I’d guess it was older than my dad. But its eye glowed blue like the machines inside it were still working. It made the car shake—I’m honestly surprised the back tires never gave out. And God damn, the smell. . .rust and blood and mucus, I swear!”

Now it was Mason’s turn to go rigid. A tidal wave of emotion seemed to sweep through his features; first surprise, then recognition, and then dread. He placed a hand on the nearest corner of the table as if to steady himself. 

“It was wearing a black top hat and bowtie, wasn’t it?” He murmured. It sounded much more like a statement than a question, and the way his tone had become so hollow didn’t help.

Jack lowered his head, clearly unsure whether or not to make eye-contact as he nodded. 

“Sounds like the way Freddy was designed. . .” Ness mused without quite meaning to. 

Memories of the huge sign that had been built to loom over the old pizzeria’s front entrance flooded into his head. The blinking lights that bordered the establishment’s title and seemed to chase each other around and around and around. The life-sized cutout of the one and only Freddy Fazbear himself, using one paw to adjust his bowtie and the other to wave, seemingly beckoning customers to wander inside. 

Those memories dissolved as Ness winced and glanced back at Mason, who was now reaching up with a shaking hand to grasp at his hoodie’s collar, tugging it to cover up the top of an old, deep scar that dragged along the skin of his neck. Ness shuffled in his seat, trying not to stare at how quickly the color drained from his friend’s face. 

Checkers was back by Mason’s side in an instant, bracing her paws against the seat as she licked at his face. Mason blinked, a huge shudder rippling through his chest as he hugged his pet.

A few minutes dragged by, feeling like an hour apiece and jeering at the trio as they went.

“So.” Mason finally announced, still keeping his gentle-yet-obviously-desperate hold on Checkers. “Let me get this straight: that. . .that thing got into your cab like it paid rent just a few hours ago?” 

Jack pursed his lips, nodding again. “There was a kid with it, too. A little girl. She didn’t even seem scared at all. The whole ride, she was smiling and hugging the bear’s arm—”

“Wait, you actually drove it somewhere?!” Mason demanded.

Jack sputtered. “What other choice did I have?!”

“I mean, that’s kind of literally his job,” Ness mentioned. 

True, he was grappling with the fact that he and his friends had apparently been transported into some cheap bizzarofiction novel. And yet, somehow, this wasn’t even the craziest story that’d been relayed to him from a customer. He peered down at Fabio as though it was about to start contributing to this conversation. “Where did you take them?”

Jack raised an eyebrow at Ness (which he guessed couldn’t be helped. Ness already had an idea, but it was rude to just assume, wasn’t it?). “Where else? That old pizza joint you’ve been trying to write an encyclopedia on.”

Mason was about to say something else, but stopped short in favor of turning his shock toward Ness.

Ness raised his hands in a defensive gesture. “Look, I know you don’t like that place, but just remember that I don’t question what you do with your free-time.”

“That’s right. And even if you did, you wouldn’t have to, because I don’t spend my free-time poking around the fourth Circle of Hell!” Mason snarked. 

“I won’t lie and say it’s not creepy,” Ness admitted, unable to stop a chill from racing down his spine at the memory of the restaurant’s grimy wall posters, the draft that always seemed to be in the air over there, the disturbingly sour tang of what he’d hoped was just ancient pizza sauce, “but that still seems pretty harsh.”

Mason gawked, fragments of words leaking through his teeth.

“If we’re looking at the bigger picture,” Jack coughed, probably attempting to steer Mason away from a potential stroke, “then nothing really happened tonight. The bear didn’t even make a peep the whole time. I didn’t get hurt, and that girl didn’t get hurt. She even left a handful of change when we got to the restaurant.”

Ness squinted and tilted his head at that. As far as he knew, the rules Jack applied to his cab were pretty lax and basic, but he’d always been firm on never taking money from lone child passengers.

Then again, if the child passenger in question was traveling with a huge robotic animal that apparently had enough sentience to use a taxi in the first place, it was probably best to just go along with whatever happened and leave the sanity-questioning session for later.

Jack fiddled with the zipper on his jacket. “. . .That actually wasn’t even the worst part of tonight’s shift.”

Mason leaned back against the leather seat, looking very much lightheaded. His eyes bulged from their sockets as he furiously motioned for his friend to elaborate. 

Jack hesitated before explaining, “Well, once the girl and the bear were out, I decided to just call it a day. After I got far enough away from the pizzeria, I parked by one of the downtown curbs and switched the car’s sign to Off Duty. I was trying to get a catnap in—”

“It’s a miracle you could even try to sleep after that damn bear basically held you hostage,” Mason interjected.

“—when someone knocked on the window. I told ‘em to read the sign and come find me later, but they opened up the door and got in anyway. So, I was about to kick them out and. . .” Jack trailed off, shaking his shoulders as though a few dozen cockroaches had spontaneously taken up nest in his jacket.  

“And. . .?” Ness echoed, the curiosity-concern cocktail in his mind getting stronger.

“And there was some tiny doll in my passenger seat,” Jack concluded. “Looked creepy as hell.”

Ness hummed in consideration. “Sounds like it could just be a weird prank? The teens in that area are always following strange trends.”

Jack nervously shook his head. “I couldn’t see anyone outside the cab. It only took a few seconds for me to look; there’s no way anyone could move fast enough to hide after they put the doll in.”

“A tiny doll. . ?” Mason’s brow furrowed in thought for a couple seconds, then promptly returned to its collision course for Mars. He leaned over the table. “Did it have bug-eyes and buck teeth? Was it wearing one of those stupid propeller hats and holding a red-and-yellow striped balloon?”

Jack’s face contorted in confusion as he nodded. “. . .That pretty much sums it up.”

Though his expression was still grim, Mason’s fear quickly metamorphosed into some good ol’ fashioned aggravation. “That’s the bastard,” he seethed, knuckles turning white. 

Jack blinked, perplexity slowly overtaking his latest case of heebie-jeebies. “Wait, you’ve seen that thing before?”

“I have, unfortunately.” Mason grimaced. An odd type of adrenaline etched its way across his face. “Is it still in the cab?”

Jack nodded again. “I didn’t want to risk touching it.”The words were barely out of his mouth when Mason rose from the booth and stalked outside through Sparky’s front entrance. Checkers trotted after him, the tiredness of an actual nurse flickering in her eyes.

Ness and Jack basically had frontrow seats to observe their friend approaching Jack’s cab, ripping the passenger-side door open and fishing something out before slamming it closed again.

With that, Mason raced to the edge of the parking lot and proceeded to dropkick what had to be the mysterious balloon-toting doll out of sight.

Despite his shock, part of Ness still felt relieved that Mason hadn’t simply deposited it into the dumpster. Just in case those awful rabbit-looking things happened to be paying a visit tonight. . .

@sammys-magical-au @that-bat @th3w00ds @bee-the-matpat-simp @touyubesposts @crazy-obsessed-enby @i-used-to-wear-the-fedora @holyawesomestitches @s-e-v-e-n-24 @sotogalmo @ciphershadow @deethedustyassdumbass @theechoingmadness @its-a-goddamn-ass-race @zam-witch @box-goat @redd-byrd @icantmakeupagoodname @pleasedontmind-the-emerald @transparentghosty @vegaslvrr @itzqueers-blog @wannabeavocaloidmystery @shivr0ygf @ciara-clycone @not-made-of-actual-rye @m0on-shro0m @imafruitbowl @azure-trash @il0v3mus1cals @v1r-x @kafkaisnotdead @junaslagoon @alicethemenace @ilovenikkisixx @m00nlight-mexican @w0rd3855 @head-without-a-fucking-brain. @unkn0wn-nys @not-made-of-actual-rye @101k-t101 @theonlykala @dividel @riff-is-on-a-fucking-crisis @roselily2006 @max-afton @abe-the-detective-blog @floating-above-sea-level @madhare051

[ladyfromaspookyforest]

What Is Will's Arc if Mlvn Is Endgame?

A Byler trying to make sense of the show from a mlvn POV

I like to be informed on both sides of a debate. So I'd like to understand what evidence mlvns have to support their ship. Unfortunately, most Milkshakes think mlvn endgame is obvious and therefore that they don't need to prove it. So basically, this is me trying to explore the one thing that just Does. Not. Make. Sense. to me from a mlvn endgame perspective. And that's Will's arc.

Will's arc IS STILL SUPER IMPORTANT when addressing the show from a mlvn standpoint because ships do not exist in a bubble. Therefore, it is essential to acknowledge that Will is integral/central to the show and that supporting queerness has been an ST theme since day 1. Will's arc has never been about familial acceptance. The first episode of the show demonstrated that Joyce loves Will no matter what. We had a queer-coded acceptance speech from Jonathan in that same season (another in season 2) and a far more blatant one in season 4. The series wrapping up with yet another would be dissatisfying and redundant.

Acceptance from his friends is not it either, because we also saw his friends sticking up for him despite being bullied about his visible queerness. Not once did anyone stick up for Will by denying his queerness. This is likely a consequence of taking Will's lead, suggesting Will has never denied his own queerness. It is very clear that this has been going on for quite a while and his friends not only do not have an issue with people thinking Will is gay, but will defend him on account of it. Will's friends accepting him is no great revelation.

Will's conclusion CANNOT be something that has been a truth from the start. If Will's story begins with being loved by all of his friends and family whether he's gay or not, we can't watch five seasons of him struggling only for the conclusion to be that he is loved by all of his friends and family whether he's gay or not. There is ZERO development. It can't be romance if it's not Mike. The turnaround is too quick for Will's feelings to come into the open, for him to be definitively friendzoned, for him to get over these feelings, for him to meet someone new, for him to develop feelings for this new person, and for him to get involved with this new person. This is literally impossible to cram into the final season even for a side character we WOULDN'T mind a rushed romance for. But ESPECIALLY not for Will, one of the backbone characters of the show (*cough* whose queerness has been integral to the show's very makeup from the start *cough cough*).

So if I'm fighting for my life over here to make mlvn make sense for Will, in order for this to work, you have to remove romance from Will's arc completely. Yes, we as Byler shippers are fully aware of the moment romance became integral for Will.

BUT for the sake of this exercise, we're going to say that Will's romantic plotline is a dead-end (I'll come back to the queerness) and that he's going to have to put his feelings for Mike on the backburner for the sake of the world. With this logic, you'd have to acknowledge that Will is going to be at the center of the supernatural plot, which most people do but some mlvn dingdongs think he's a gay, irrelevant, crybaby. So. Pretending we have logic: Will's at the center of the plot. Here's an imaginary arc for Will I've constructed in which he does not get the boy OR get sidelined:

Scenario

This is extremely dependent on the parallels between Will and Henry.

For the sake of this exercise, Henry is queer. He may or may not be within the actual world of ST, but for this to work, Henry's queerness would need to be expressly stated within the show. Additionally, THIS IS NOT A THEORY and it's not what I THINK will happen, so anything related to timeline theory is being side-lined here. For this scenario to work, there is one Henry and he becomes Vecna. Henry feels like an outsider. He is made to feel "wrong" and different. It would be necessary to parallel Virginia with Lonnie and to introduce a friend or a neighbor or some boy Henry had a crush on. If we wanted to explore more mature feelings to be closer to Will's, this could even take place later in the lab when he's older.

The gist is that Henry would have to experience the heartbreak of having feelings for a straight boy combined with internalized homophobia and a lack of acceptance from the people in his life. Both Henry and Will would experience harassment, feelings of being different, unrequited feelings, and come to a confrontation with one another. For maximum impact, Mike just found out about the painting/Will's feelings and reacted poorly (because of the lying, not the gay). Now Will's in a trance, having a one-on-one with Vecna in his mind lair and Mike's freaking the fuck out and feeling like an asshole and Vecna tries to relate to Will and Will's big triumph is realizing that Vecna is RIGHT and they are so much alike, but despite what Mike said, Will knows Mike loves him anyway. And despite being sad, gay, and alone, Will still loves the people in his life and he has some big moment of AND I LOVE MYSELF TOO and yay Will self-love hurrah you're sad but not going to let it ruin you woohoo and he tells Vecna there was nothing wrong with him when he was a wee lad either and yada yada you get the gist.

Why it works and why it doesn't

Ignoring what this does to Henry (because that's a whole other thing), this actually concludes Will's struggles with his own queerness perfectly fine. THEMATICALLY, it's trash. And that's the big issue with Will ending up single. When you look at Will as a character within this body of work, sans themes, you can see his arc as one of needing to accept HIMSELF. As I said before, it isn't about his family or friends accepting him (although explicit scenes of this would be beneficial for Will's self-love journey). We know he has accepted his own queerness, but he still feels like a mistake. His arc culminating in his acknowledgement that he is NOT a mistake is super important for him. I do, in fact, believe it's a large part of his REAL arc. Being able to take ownership of this part of himself and feel happy with it is necessary for him with or without romance. And within the story, it's okay to tell a tale about a queer boy who doesn't get the boy he loves if the story ends with him learning to love himself.

The issue is that this body of work exists in the real world. It exists in a world where telling that tale of the gay kid not getting the boy is delivering a negative message about queerness. It exists in a world where PR has been done surrounding the show that both allowed and encouraged the shipping of these boys. If the show ends with this bittersweet conclusion of Will's arc, letting go of his love for Mike but gaining love for himself, it won't be JUST about Will. Because Will represents gay youth in general. And ending with Robin and Vickie together does nothing for this message. It doesn't serve to show us that queer relationships are good and possible and that Mike and Will just weren't meant to be. Because Rockie is not a stand-in for Byler. That PR I mentioned still exists. You cannot say, "well we queerbaited Byler, but we still gave you a queer relationship!"

And way back to the beginning when I mentioned that supporting queerness has been woven into the show since the FIRST episode, while my (stupid) scenario or something similar allow Will's personal arc to conclude in a way that doesn't negate the narrative, it DOES negate the message.

So...WHAT is Will's arc if mlvn is endgame?

Self-love, IMO. I think Will's arc is equal parts learning he is NOT a mistake and learning that he CAN find love despite his queerness, but if mlvn were to be endgame, it could only be the first half. And if the show played his journey strong enough, they could make that extremely powerful on its own. Unfortunately, it's impossible to create this ending without sending a negative message. So while I DO think it is possible to wrap up Will's arc sans Byler in a way that makes sense within the narrative, I don't think it's possible outside of it. In a world where people consume the narrative and recognize that sad gay boy ending up alone = bad message. That even if queerness is accepted, celebrated, and supported WITHIN the show, the show says the OPPOSITE by allowing the only single party member to be the gay one.

I think this is where a lot of mlvns get confused. I'm not talking about the extreme antis and the homophobes. But for the people who genuinely care about Will and ship mlvn (they exist), I think this ability to disconnect Will and his journey from the Real World the show airs in is what allows them to believe mlvn endgame is not harmful. The people saying "It's realistic!" about Will being sad and in love with his straight best friend in the 80s are failing to recognize that THIS IS NOT THE 80S. It's MEDIA.

This is the major difference between Mlvn + Will and Byler + El. Both El and Will need to learn to love themselves and find strength in themselves outside of other people's perceptions of them. But, even if we ignore the depth/nature of feelings both El and Will have for Mike or the ways in which their relationships with him have been portrayed. Let's say Will and El feel EXACTLY the same about Mike. Byler + El = sad but empowered El while Mlvn + Will = sad but empowered Will + bad message.

I did genuinely set out to try to explain this argument to myself, not to go on an anti-mlvn tangent. But...my conclusion is that I can't (shocker). Art was meant to be perceived. Thank you and goodnight (it's afternoon).

[leandra-kinard]

sorry in advance if i come off degrading or rude here (not my intention at all) but i'm sending this to you because you mentioned fictional narrative re: buddie, so i wanna add my thoughts about plausibility in relation to narrative format and medium conventions. long rant & full disclosure, i just watched 911, so i don't know how the conversation around this was pre-tommy but i don't understand how people thought/think it's a slowburn romance arc they were building with buddie that could actually happen. literally no romantic relationship on this show has been slowburn because it's just not how procedural shows of this kind are written. bathena barely interacts in s1 and were put together in a couple episodes. madney are only friends for five episodes or so. none of buck and eddie's relationships have build-up that lasts more than a few eps. the closest i can think of is buck and abby and even that wasn't much. i just don't think it's the nature of these type of shows, with the exception of something like the show castle where two main leads are set up as one day becoming romantic, to give breathing room for romance to go from zero to established. they're written in on-average 6-episode arcs and planned according to audience response, this is basically how every aspect of these shows work including the romantic plots.

which brings me to my second point you already touched a little bit: medium conventions but especially in relation to queer rep. when we have queer rep in these type of mainstream shows they're rarely stories about bi/gay awakening. double gay awakening? honestly, i don't remember a single show where something like this happened. i'm shocked we even got bi buck AT ALL because nominally straight hot guy main character getting confirmed as queer rarely happens. i kinda find the notion of people genuinely expecting this to happen with two main characters over seasons-long burn kind of laughable. and don't get me wrong, i understand why people love the idea, i'm myself a slow-burn building-a-bond-before-romance type of gal but i just don't think that type of queer story would ever work in a format like this, considering the average audience. look at something like 911ls for example, carlos and tk are both openly gay and start having sex on ep 2 and are boyfriends by ep 10 - that's the space queer stories currently hold in mainstream media. where it's made clear from the start and executed quickly over a few eps (not saying there's no further story with them, i just mean the relationship development). so yeah i don't think buddie was ever an option for the writers beyond being aware of the interest in it which is objectively very small compared to the millions of people watching this show. tldr: i think being ship-baited by a mainstream procedural show on fox is like going to the hardware store and asking for milkshake.

Okay, so I don't agree that slow burns aren't possible at all on shows like 911. Afaik, that popular ship on the Rookie also took several seasons, and there are many more shows that had a "will they, won't they?" situation with two main characters. Sure, it's much more difficult to write, plan and pull through, but it does get done.

Many people were hoping Buddie was FINALLY gonna be a queer version of that trope, and the thing is, there was enough subtext in the previous few seasons to support it. There were scenes that were shot and composed with commonly used cinematographic and contextual tropes that are usually used for romantic couples; there was all that stuff with Eddie having panic attacks over Ana, seeming very distanced with her, Carla's "Make sure you follow your heart, not Christopher's", and much more.

I do believe that backdoor was always open a tiny crack wide, and the writers were aware of it being a tiny, tiny option and therefore included all these little bits that would later make it plausible. There were interviews in the past with Tim where he even hinted at something like that, or left the option open; and there were other writers and directors who also subtly confirmed some subtext. It was never explicitly spelled out but hinted at.

So I'm pretty convinced that it at least was some level of consideration, in the past - always with a tiny probability to become possible, but it WAS there. (And before anyone reading this says "oh so that WAS ship baiting?" Nope, it wasn't. Giving yourself the option to maaaaybe do something in the future as a writer is normal procedure.)

Also, just because something was never done before (i.e. a queer slow burn) doesn't mean it'll never get done. It just makes it a lot less likely and subject to MANY external factors.

But yeah, I definitely agree that putting TWO queer awakening arcs around main characters into the story is extremely unlikely to ever happen on a show like this. And actually, we kinda already had two: the show started with Michael coming out to Athena. So yeah, even though we were thrown into the last stage/aftermath of that arc in s1 rather than seeing it play out from the start of its development, we had that.

[hugemilkshake]

Hi, I have another idea with the Shadow Milk cookie

And you can add Naga and Hypnotism.

(if anything Shadow Milk Cookie Naga)

(This is a reference to the movie The Jungle Book)

Here is the plot :

Anyway, after Pure Vanilla cookie told Green Spinach cookie to go to cookie city.

Green Spinach cookie I ran away through the jungle and realized that I didn't want to go to the city of Cookie. White lily cookie and Pure Vanilla Cookie decided to find her in the depths of the jungle. Meanwhile, Green Spinach cookie was wandering through the jungle, and stopped at a tree and sat down, and suddenly the tail of the Shadow Milk cookie appeared and wrapped around his waist. Shadow Milk Cookie told Green Spinach cookie to believe him.

Green Spinach cookie said she no longer believes. Shadow Milk cookie then used hypnosis on the Green Spinach cookie to make her believe. And Shadow Milk Cookie started singing "Trust in me."

(If anything, the song "Trust in me" is a reference to the jungle book)

Please🙂.

Enjoy the milkshake! Now I had to look up what a naga is at like 1 am because sleep is not on my schedule and I’m currently writing this at 1-2 am, I’m so so sleepy and filled with cosmic dread which is a girly pop move✨

Naga Shadow Milk

-platonic scenario???-

Everything was going horribly wrong.

The Faerie kingdom was in total chaos.

The ancient beasts broke the seal, and they were more beast than they were cookie which was a little frightening.

But you and your friends had to split up due to the amount of chaos that was happening around you

Unfortunately for you, you were in the vast forest of beast yeast. Outside of the Faerie Kingdom. Outside of any sort of protection.

The yeast spores were not too friendly…

You had to climb up a tree to escape them

Everything was better than it was like five minutes ago until you saw some sort of snake tail with eyes on it fall from above yiu…

“Oh dear it seems to me like your in a bit of a bad situation~”

The head of a cookie came from above, and all you could do to describe this “cookie” was that the top part was a cookie while the bottom part was a snake.

Creepy.

“Would you like some help my dear cookie?”

Ah sure why the hell not, you were stuck in a tree when the world around you is basically burning.

The cookie smiled and he started to him a little tune

It was almost… hypnotic…

You couldn’t tell what was happening, there was… snake… burning… singing… snakes..?

God you were starting to black out…

Hopefully this doesn’t end horribly…

[ollieoliveoboelo22]

Turn Week 2024: Day 3 - Different Time Period.

Now is the perfect time for me to bust out the College Band AU that's been invading my head for over a year. All because the sax TA looks like Benedict Arnold from TURN... I kid you not that's the origin. Is this a stretch for the prompt? Maybe but you get it anyway. Shout out to @phociian for jumping on my AU and rolling along with it.

There are a lot of characters, so I'm gonna cut down the list quite a bit for TURN characters. I also made most of them music majors because if I have to suffer music theory and aural skills, so do they.

George Washington: The Director of Bands

Everyone loves him, they show up to practice for him. His office hours usually have students in there just to chat and get some good advice. Also conducts the Wind Symphony.

Horatio Gates: The Assistant Director of Bands

The band director everyone loathes and makes them consider quitting. Usually a group of students decides to protest if they find out it's just him for a rehearsal and will get milkshakes or chug milk to get sick during rehearsal.

Lafayette: Drum Major

He was an international student his first year and decided to full on move and transfer to the United States. The Washington's usually host him. Has a ton of money, but everyone thinks he's broke because he only eats ramen.

Benjamin Tallmadge: Horn/Mellophone

Music and History Major. Absolute history nerd, but we love him for it. He's either usually in the library researching or in the music building practicing. Due to his friends he knows all the drama in the band but he wants nothing to do with it.

Caleb Brewster: Percussion (tenors)

Music Major. Caleb does gigs all over town at bars and clubs, usually with Jack Custis. He's only really in college to keep playing because he loves it. He's roommates with Ben, and their apartment basically became the designated hangout space.

Anna Strong: Color Guard (flags)

Journalism Major. Anna overhears a lot of gossip from the color guard. She's the reason why Ben knows so much. That and Abe usually causes some sort of drama that she has to drag him out again with the help of Mary.

Alexander Hamilton: Trumpet

PoliSci and Music Major. The very epitome of a trumpet personality. Along with John Laurens, they get up to far too many shenanigans. Including taking shots during a performance on stage.

Peggy Shippen: Majorette

Communications Major. Peggy has a long distance boyfriend, John Andre, at their rival school. Usually a good bit of jokes are made, but they're a very cute couple and take pictures together at the rivalry football game. The only reason she came to this university was because her father insisted on it. Though she transfers going into her Junior year.

Benedict Arnold

Saxophone TA (the thing that started it all). Arnold is really good at running the sax section through rehearsals and they're one of the best on the band. Even argued with Gates when he was crossing the line with comments towards students. And due to the music department (Congress) he left and went to the masters program at their rival university. (Still working on the flaws on this plot line)

Yes I know there are people missing, I haven't gotten to them as I have a lot on the aides and the other generals. I know not all instruments were covered, they are in my master doc. Yes, the specific details come from real life events. Thank you for reading