#got tired of waiting for ao3 to come back online

[doing-something-unholy]

Sabbatical

Monsignor Pruitt/Father Adrian Cult AU: another priest around to offer a more level headed approach means that Easter reveal goes smoother, not as many people are turned, and John and Adrian (and Bev...) have the makings of a brand new religion on their hands.

This is John and Adrian having a well earned stay-cation, a romantic night at the rectory together.

Tags; ftm oc, masochism, slight choking, blood kink, John being a bit of a Freak(tm), under-negotiated Dom/sub dynamics, some fluff.

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

The lights in the rectory were dim as Adrian let himself in the door, locking out the golden light of sunset behind him. It was very still but not exactly quiet, a record player with… John Denver, Adrian recognized after a moment, softly filling the room. John was awake then, and the sound of the bathroom floor creaking told Adrian exactly where he was.

Adrian smiled to himself, set his bag on the floor by the antique tv set, and the brown paper bags with the surprise for later in the refrigerator. Adrian hummed along with the music as he set the table for their dinner-breakfast. John didn’t eat much actual food, but always appreciated sitting with Adrian in the ‘mornings,’ listening to the updates on everything that happened during the daylight. It started under the guise of the ‘changing of the guard’, Adrian telling John about the goings-on of the church so he could take over at night. But these days, while there was some practical information shared, it was mostly Adrian rambling about anything and everything or John telling him some story from decades ago, stealing the little moments together that they could.

Today though, finally, they had clear schedules. No Mass, no Confessions, no visits, once Adrian could get out of his cassock- no collars, nothing but free time for three days. Adrian could hardly believe he’d pulled it off. He was sure Beverly would not be pleased when she got back from her ‘mission trip’ but he was finding it hard to care. Not when he had John all to himself for three, wonderful days.

Adrian finished lighting a candle for the center of the table, had just stood and blown out the match, when arms closed around his waist and a nose found its way into his hair, then a gentle kiss on the back of his head. Adrian couldn’t help the smile on his face, the way his heartbeat kicked up a notch, and he knew John could tell, the way his breath stuttered and body shook against Adrian’s back as John tried to hide his laughter. Adrian turned in his arms, pressed a kiss to John’s mouth.

“Stop laughing,” Adrian pretended to scold, fighting down a smile.

John leaned in and kissed his nose, smiling at the feeling of it scrunching under his lips.

“I’m just- It’s cute how excited you are to see me.” John grinned down at Adrian, then tilted his head to look behind him, at the table. “What’s all this?”

“Well, remember how Bev is away on ‘Mission’?” Adrian set his hands on John’s chest, slid one up to his neck, “That means there’s no one to bother us for the next week, so I arranged to clear our schedules for three days.” Adrian stared up at John, suddenly just a bit worried he’d miscalculated. “That- that, um, is okay right? I mean we aren’t that swamped right now and I figured it was a good opp-”

John kissed him before he could get too far down the anxiety spiral. When he pulled away his expression was so soft and fond Adrian could cry.

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s perfect.”

And Adrian did cry then, tears welling up on his lashes as he grinned at John and dragged him in for another kiss, then several more just for good measure. John finally tipped his head back so Adrian couldn’t keep kissing him, saying something about getting started on dinner. Adrian’s stomach chose that moment to growl, so he had to agree.

“There’s nothing to get started on,” Adrian said with a sly smile. He waited for the quirk of John’s eyebrow before continuing, “I picked something up from the mainland. I- I wanted something kinda fancy for tonight.” Adrian extracted himself from John’s arms, excited to show John what he’d got, “I wasn’t sure if you’d be awake this early, I was going to plate it nice but it’ll still taste the same.” He started setting the groceries out on the kitchen counter, John watching curiously over his shoulder. Fresh fruit, honey, cheese, prosciutto, and bread. Adrian gave John another sly smile as he pulled out a box of chocolate truffles and their favorite white wine. John loved how excited he was, the joy of surprising him written all over Adrian’s face.

“Oh, wonderful, I’ll get glasses.” John got the wine glasses, and a few plates, down from the cabinets, setting the plates down where Adrian had started cutting everything into bite sized pieces or slices, and John uncorked the wine and poured them both a glass. 

They carried everything over to the table, John gently handed Adrian a glass, and held his own out for a toast.

“To having a few days off. To- to us.” John’s smile looked like the warmth pouring off a crackling campfire, and Adrian’s face lit up in return.

“To us.”

They clinked glasses, and fell into their routine, eating and drinking and laughing, very glad to not have to mind the time, just enjoy each other’s presence. 

One of John’s only regrets about this path they’d been set on was how busy they were, how little time they had to themselves. Being Blessed was a gift that he'd always be grateful for, but it came with responsibility that kept them working, growing the church constantly and fending off those that wanted it destroyed. John was shocked at how many people resisted God's new covenant even when the truth of their blessing stared them in the face. But he supposed even Jesus had His fair share of dissidents in His time. 

They'd come around eventually. In God's time, they'd learn.

The sun set long ago, and for once they didn’t have to get ready for Mass. Although now that John thought about it, why was Adrian still wearing his cassock if the day was over for him?

“Are you comfortable? In that- the cassock, I mean.”

Adrian looked up abruptly, deer-in-headlights.

“I- yes?” He looked almost guilty. John raised an eyebrow at him.

“Well- It-” Adrian stuttered, “I didn’t exactly get a chance to change.”

“You could change now?”

“...I was hoping to wait until we went to bed.” Adrian sipped from his glass, trying to hide behind it, until he was struck with a sudden bite of bravery, “I was actually hoping you might… help me with it. If you catch my drift.”

“Oh?” John adjusted in his seat, leaning back, “What exactly did you need help with?”

Adrian didn’t need to look at him, he could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Well, it's just so many buttons, isn’t it? Awfully hard to undo.”

“You could always just push up the bottom of the skirt,” John teased back, “But maybe you’d just end up with it stuck bunched around your waist.”

One of John’s favorite things about his Blessing was the way he could see the life flow through people’s veins. In particular, he loved how obvious it made the effect his words had on Adrian, watching that golden shimmer of his pulse beat just a little harder as Adrian pictured what he was saying. He couldn’t stand to tease his boy any longer. The food was good, but his hunger couldn’t truly be sated by it.

“Come here.”

The sudden heat in John’s voice startled Adrian. He moved to comply immediately. John pushed his chair back from the table as Adrian approached, eyes raking over him with such intensity Adrian shivered. Adrian bent slightly to get on his knees but John cut off his movement by reaching out and holding one wrist firmly.

“Just stand here. Just like that.” John’s hand trailed as far up Adrian’s arm as he could reach, then over to his chest and stomach. His fingers dipped into the band of his fascia, tugged gently to encourage Adrian to step closer. He pulled until Adrian stood between John’s spread thighs. John smoothed the band back down and looked up at Adrian, delighted to see the pink spreading across his face already. He grabbed at Adrian’s hips just to hear him gasp. 

John abruptly stood up, keeping his grip on Adrian to manhandle him into leaning against the edge of the table, Adrian had to put his hands behind him on the table to keep himself propped up as John leaned into him. John kissed him hard, cupping Adrian’s face in his hands. He pushed against his body, soaking in the heat coming off him. His tongue invaded Adrian’s mouth, he could taste the wine still.

Adrian broke the kiss first, panting and gasping for air. John kept peppering kisses on his face, trailing down his cheek and neck. Adrian shivered and made an appreciative noise in the back of his throat as John’s teeth grazed him.

“John- darling- please, bed?” Adrian whined at him with big pleading eyes.

The only warning he got was John’s smile and nod before Adrian was being dragged into the bedroom. He swooned dramatically, happily pretending to sucumb to his lover's rough grasp.

John maneuvered him to the edge of the bed, then pushed against Adrian’s shoulders until he swayed backwards.

Adrian fell back into the mattress with a sigh, head tossed back and exposing his throat, perfect bait for-

John followed him down, caging him in with long limbs and immediately putting his mouth over the center of Adrian's throat. Adrian laughed, the skin under John's tongue and teeth bobbing. John knew what he was thinking, and nipped him to quiet him. He shuffled his legs over Adrian's, until he could straddle one thick thigh and grind his own thigh into where Adrian was already dripping wet under so many layers of fabric. Adrian gasped and rolled his hips onto the offered leg, holding on to John's upper arms and whining. He pressed kisses into Adrian's neck, while hooking a finger over his own collar and pulled the tab out, then tossed it in the direction of the side table. John undid a few buttons of his shirt, listening to Adrian breathe, panting already.

John moved back after only a short moment, pulling his leg away.

"Hush, darling boy. You'll get yours soon." John settled back down to press his face into the crook of Adrian's neck, breathing deeply. Adrian squirmed and whined as John dragged his fangs over Adrian’s neck so slowly and light he broke out into goosebumps. John showered the delicate skin with affection and kisses, melting Adrian down into submission.

"You know by now, my need first."

He licked a stripe up Adrian's neck.

"Besides,"

He nipped the skin gently, soothed it with a kiss.

"I know how much you like being fucked when you're dizzy and pliant."

With that John sank his fangs into Adrian's neck, right over the faint scars from repeated feedings. Both of them moaned, Adrian's trailed off in a whine but he held still obediently, the pain and anticipation making his clit throb in need. Every little groan and sucking noise from where John’s mouth made contact with his neck drove Adrian wild.

John was very well fed these days, no shortage of faithful willing to supply him food in hopes of being blessed, but Adrian was his favorite meal. It was a shame he couldn't feed from him as often as he liked, preferring to wait for him to heal naturally to avoid overexposure to the Sacrament. Still, he couldn't get enough of Adrian's blood, the way he whined so sweetly for him and got so needy for his touch. 

John drank greedily from him, any thoughts of slowly indulging in his blood gone the instant the taste of Adrian’s life flowed over his tongue and down his throat. The trust Adrian had in him to let him drink directly from his veins was almost more intoxicating than the feeling of John’s body filling with the warmth of Adrian’s blood. Knowing Adrian was inside him every time he drank from him and being able to feel it filling his stomach was a wonderful, glorious gift that John cherished. 

Adrian was his assistant publicly, and his prized pet in private. And it seemed to suit him just fine, he'd told John once that even if most of his 'ownership' over him was just play, it made him feel safe. John had smiled at him, said he was glad, and quietly laughed to himself. It wasn't just play to him. Adrian was his, and his alone. John had been the one to take Adrian's virginity, had given Adrian his role, his purpose, and watched him blossom, his anxiety fade as he stepped into the role he was divinely made for. And the boy had been blessed by God to be perfectly receptive to him, his cunt welcoming him in every time. 

John had half a mind to marry him, Adrian didn't mind a hint of femininity, he would look so beautiful in white-

John groaned and rolled his hips down against Adrian, he felt half drunk off blood and arousal. He pulled his mouth away for a second to lave his tongue over the skin, chasing a rivulet of blood, and sank his teeth down again, pulling another gasp from his sweet boy. He wanted more of those noises, despite what he said earlier he couldn't wait any longer. 

He grabbed a fistful of Adrian's cassock and pulled it up until he could get under the hem, and immediately stopped when his hand touched soft warm skin instead of fabric. He pulled away again to look, holding his hand over the bite wound. 

Adrian wasn't wearing pants under his cassock, but what he was wearing… John could feel his pupils dilate as he took in the sight of Adrian's gorgeous thighs wrapped in lilac lace at the top of sheer stockings, held up by a silk garter belt that framed the thin lace covering his aching core. 

Adrian smiled up at him sheepishly, blushing.

"Surprise, Father."

John ran his free hand up Adrian's leg, feeling the delicate fabric and curling a finger under the strap of the garter. He smiled down at him, and heaved a fake sigh.

"Whore."

And snapped the garter against his leg making Adrian jump and yelp.

"Yours," Was all Adrian said in reply, grinning and unrepentant. 

John moved his grip to Adrian's hip, hard enough to bruise just to watch his eyes cloud over with lust.

"Mine, huh? My whore?" John leaned back down to Adrian's neck, licking his fingers clean of the blood that had welled up around them. 

"I think I like the sound of that, darling. Mine." John growled out the word and latched his mouth back to the wound. The bleeding was slowing down, as much as he wanted to keep going it was best to stop soon. With one last obscene sucking noise he pulled away from Adrian's neck and cleaned the last of the blood with his tongue, making Adrian shiver and squirm.

John caught Adrian's jaw and moved his head to kiss him, the taste of blood passing between them. John shifted his weight again, settling between Adrian's legs. Adrian looked up at the holy man on top of him, the light catching John's hair like a halo. He wrapped his legs around him, arms resting on the pillow beside his head.

"Ah, w-well, Father? Are you going to punish me?" Adrian purred.

Adrian always called him Monsignor in public, and Father in bed. Adrian probably couldn't call him Father in public, John had never been so affected by his title before. 

He put a hand on Adrian's chest, and slid up to his neck with the slightest pressure, just to watch Adrian's face change from cocky to needy.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" John's voice was deep and rough, a dangerous edge to it. Adrian could see his eyes shining in the dim light of their bedroom.

"Please," He whined as John's hand slowly tightened around his throat.

John waited until he felt Adrian's pulse beat rabbit-fast under his fingertips before letting go all at once, watching Adrian gasp for air and moan. He didn't wait for Adrian to fully catch his breath, immediately grinded his palm into Adrian's tdick through the lace and reveled in the way his hips rolled into it, the noise it pulled from him. He could feel his cock straining against the front of his jeans, where it had been for a while, but he needed to make sure Adrian was ready for him first.

John pulled the soaked lace to the side, listened to Adrian gasp and whine as he gathered up the wetness and stroked his clit with it, maddeningly slow. Adrian bucked his hips into the touch, so John grabbed his hip and held him still.

"Behave, you eager little thing," John gently scolded as he slid two fingers into Adrian. He was pleased to see his thighs tense as Adrian held still, obediently following his implied command with a whine. He rewarded his boy by curling his fingers as he pumped them in and out, and stroking his clit with his thumb. John smiled at the way his hips stuttered ever so slightly, he wouldn't really be in trouble if he moved, and Adrian knew that, but watching him try so hard to obey anyway was its own reward.

Adrian whined and bucked his hips into John's hand, John could feel him start to shake as he gradually gave up on holding still and chased his orgasm. John let him ride his fingers until he heard the tell-tale hitch in Adrian's moans that told him he was getting close. John pulled his hand away right when Adrian started to tense up, he knew he had the timing perfect when Adrian cried out and whimpered.

"Please! Please, please, John, please!" Adrian grabbed John's shirt and wrapped his legs around him tighter. 

"Please what, darling?" John teased, already unzipping his jeans.

"Please– please fuck me, Father," Adrian whined, pure desperation in his voice.

John grinned enough to show his fangs, and hauled Adrian closer to him by the hips, completely unnecessary but it made Adrian gasp and blush at the casual show of strength. John pulled his cock out, and leaned forward over Adrian's body to line himself up with his entrance. He teased Adrian with the head of his cock just sweeping through his lips once, twice, before he buried himself to the hilt in Adrian's cunt.

Adrian closed his eyes and groaned, reveling in the stretch, the feeling of being so full. John immediately grabbed his jaw, pulling Adrian's face back to his.

“Look at me,” John demanded, “Look at me.”

John stared into Adrian's eyes, watching them cloud over with lust as he pulled out and slowly thrust back in. He kept a tortuously slow pace until Adrian just about opened his mouth to whine and slammed his hips into him, turning that whine into a shocked gasp. He kept going, each thrust knocking another little noise out of Adrian. 

Adrian clung to John’s shoulders, nails digging in and leaving faint lines under John's shirt. They'd heal before the hour was up but the slight burn of them lit up John’s nerves. 

Adrian was so wet and warm around him, taking him in so beautifully. John lowered himself down until he was practically laying on top of him, pressing every inch of their bodies together, as best he could while they were still half-clothed. 

A tiny smear of blood stained Adrian's collar, John pressed his face into the crook of Adrian's neck above it. The scent of him, of his boy, of Adrian, flooded his senses. His teeth itched to bury themselves in his neck again, John snarled but contented himself with licking the sweat accumulated there. He knew Adrian couldn’t afford to lose too much at once, even if John wanted it desperately. 

John kept slamming his cock into Adrian's cunt, trying his hardest to claim him from the inside out. Adrian whimpered and gasped with each thrust, John knew it had to be hurting him but his darling boy kept pulling him in, legs locked behind him.

“Does that hurt?” John gasped out between thrusts.

“Yes,” Adrian whined, “Y-yes, Father. You're- you're hitting my cervix.”

“Do you want me to stop?” John slowed down but he already knew the answer.

“No, but please, please touch me.” Adrian rolled his hips, trying to get John to keep his pace.

“You can't cum from this?” John purred at him, teasing Adrian's clit with just one finger.

“N-no, more, please!” Adrian gasped and clenched down around John, making him groan.

John smacked Adrian's clit without warning, making him yelp and jump.

“Yes you can, you've done it before. Be a good boy for me.”

John picked his pace back up, just as brutal as before. But he wasn't intending to be too cruel, he kept one hand between Adrian's thighs, thumb just barely grazing Adrian's clit with each thrust, providing a little extra stimulation that had Adrian mewling.

“Cmon, pretty boy, my sweetheart, you can do it,” John breathed into Adrian's ear, “Just a little more, huh?”

Adrian was beyond words, he just whimpered in reply. 

John decided to have mercy on him, and stroked his clit in time with each thrust. He could feel it in the way Adrian shivered and tensed around him, thighs tightening and the tremble in his arms: Adrian was so close, just the slightest thing would take him over the edge.

“Cum for me, Adrian,” John whispered to him, “cmon, cum for me.”

Adrian answered him with a cry, the tension snapping in him all at once as he shook in John’s arms. John kept fucking him through it, keeping the pleasure rolling until it burned white-hot and nearly painful.

“Thank you, thank you, thankyouthankyou oh my God thank you–,” Adrian squeezed around him as he came, and John was so overwhelmed by feeling and seeing Adrian's orgasm that it was only a few more thrusts before he was coming too, deep inside. John briefly wondered if maybe this time they'd be lucky, however impossible it might be. 

Adrian went boneless first, limp and panting as he came down from the high. John rolled his hips until he couldn't anymore, too overstimulated and exhausted to keep moving. He reached up to sweep the hair out of Adrian's face, gently stroking his cheek. Looking closely for any sign that he'd gone too far, any lingering pain that might be written in Adrian's face.

“Hey,” he said, with a breathless smile.

“Hey,” Adrian grinned back at him, tired but perfectly happy.

“I love you,” John kissed him softly. 

“I love you too,” Adrian threw his arms around John’s neck, buried his face in his shoulder, “Love you so much.”

They both laid there for a long while, tangled in each other's arms until they got the strength to get up. Adrian whined when John pulled out and away, missing the body heat. John laughed at him softly, promising to come back soon. 

Adrian worked on undoing his cassock while John fetched two hand towels from the bathroom, one wet, one dry. Adrian was peeling off his stockings by the time he got back, and John ushered him to sit back to clean him up.

“I could do that myself, y’know,” Adrian said, but sat back anyway, letting John help.

“I know, but I want to take care of you,” John glanced up at him with a smile, “Are you okay? Sore?”

“Oh I'm gonna be,” Adrian sounded almost smug, “But that's half the fun.” 

John sighed and rolled his eyes in fond mock exasperation, tossing the towels in the laundry and working on getting out of his own clothes.

“As long as you're having fun,” He climbed into bed beside Adrian, who immediately rolled over practically on top of him. John pulled him in to a comfortable spot.

“I would've stopped you if I wasn't,” Adrian responded, “But what I wanna know is where on Earth did you learn to do all that? Who taught you to talk like that?” Adrian laughed into John's neck.

“You think you youngin's invented kinky sex?” John teased, “Besides, you've only got yourself to blame.”

“... Uh, don't– or maybe do– let's just go with don't- call me ‘youngin’ again. Please.”

John laughed at him again.

“Do you like it a little too much?” John dropped his voice down to a rumble.

“I'm never saying anything to you ever again,” Adrian tried to roll away but John held on to him.

“Oh no you don't, get back here,” John held on to him tightly, dragging his fingers along Adrian's sides to make him laugh and squeal and drag him back over.

“You're so mean,” Adrian tried to pout but it would probably be more effective if he wasn't smiling. John just grinned back at him, warmth glowing in his chest. He placed a gentle kiss on Adrian's forehead. 

“I love you.”

Adrian gave up on their playfighting, and snuggled in closer with the blankets in tow.

“Love you too.”

[steviewashere]

They Were Roommates!

Rating: Mature CW: None Relationships: Steve/Eddie, Steve & Robin, Eddie & Robin, Eddie & Chrissy, Robin/Chrissy Tags: Alternate Universe — Modern Setting, Texting, Dialogue Only, Text Fic, Humor, Sexual Humor, Bad Flirting, Mild Angst, Stardew Valley References, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Little Shit, Eddie Munson is a Little Shit, Robin Buckley is a Little Shit, Chrissy Cunningham is a Sweetheart, Alternate Universe — Roommates/Housemates, Robin Buckley is a Chappell Roan Fan, Steve Harrington is Chronically Offline, Eddie Munson is Chronically Online, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Sex, Gay Disaster Eddie Munson, Alternate Universe — No Upside Down, Alternate Universe — No Supernatural Elements, Neurodivergent Steve Harrington, Neurodivergent Eddie Munson, Neurodivergent Robin Buckley Originally posted here on AO3, but I felt it was time to bring it over to Tumblr. Lots of sexual jokes in here, I'm sorry lol

📱—————📱

Steve: Do you wanna hang out in my room? I could rent that new Kristen Stewart movie.

Robin: Can’t. I’m being gay and listening to music.

Steve: …what?

Robin: I’m being gay and listening to music.

Steve: You’re…??? I don’t understand.

Robin: Chappell Roan.

Steve: ? Who?

Robin: Chappell Roan. The singer. The lesbian icon. Chappell Roan.

Seen 2h ago

——— Eddie: hey

Steve: Hey? Aren’t you driving? Why are you texting me?

Eddie: yeah, about that

Eddie: I was driving home and I guess I ran over a nail?? or maybe a sharp stick or something? I dunno but now I have a flat tire and I need to be picked up

Steve: You don’t have a spare? Shouldn’t you carry one for a van like that?

Eddie: steve.

Steve: Eddie.

Eddie: what makes you think somebody like me has a spare tire?? I don’t even have a modern radio in this fuckass van why would I have a spare tire

Steve: So that you don’t get in situations like this? Forget the spare tire. Where are you? I’ll come get you.

Eddie: I’m uhhhh……at Walmart in the parking lot

Eddie: I got something for your birthday so you cant look inside of my bag

Eddie: god, this shit is a pain in the ass

Eddie: this would’ve never happened if harambe didn’t die

Steve: Who?

Eddie: you’re joking. steve, tell me you’re joking and that you know who harambe is.

Steve: Was he a friend of yours?

Eddie: holy shit. you don’t know who harambe is. what the hell were you doing in 2016

Steve: 🙄 

Steve: Can you just tell me so that I can pick you up and we can have dinner?

Eddie: you’re gonna have to sit down for this

Eddie: basically, harambe was this gorilla in the……cincinnati zoo, I think?? anyway he was this gorilla that was just sorta vibing in his enclosure and then this little boy fell in

Steve: Oh my god. Is the boy okay?

Eddie: oh, the boy is totally fine

Eddie: the zoo killed the gorilla tho

Seen just now

Eddie: steve? hello?

Steve: They killed the gorilla? Did the gorilla even do anything?

Eddie: nope

Steve: So they just killed an innocent gorilla?

Eddie: yeah

Eddie: they thought he’d kill the kid

Seen just now

Eddie: soooo….u on ur way?

Eddie: steve?

Eddie: steeeeveeeeee

Steve: Hold on, dude.

Eddie: I can order an uber

Steve: Just give me a fucking second. I’m crying in the middle of our apartment’s courtyard, Jesus Christ.

Steve: A little boy just asked if I was okay and I had to tell him that some zoo killed a gorilla and now he’s crying with me.

Steve: You’re sleeping on the couch tonight.

Eddie: ???

Eddie: we sleep in separate beds. in separate rooms.

Steve: Couch.

Eddie: ….fine, m’lord. sorry.

——— Robin: why did you tell him about Harambe?

Eddie: he asked!

Robin: he. won’t. stop. using. my. computer.

Robin: even when I get it back, there’s like five tabs in my history about that fucking gorilla.

Robin: wait. hold on.

Eddie: oh, god. Is he crying again?

Eddie: I’m already at the store. I’ll get him a tub of that mudslide ice cream and uhhh…do you think he likes red or white roses??

Eddie: there’s a sale on those big Reese’s easter eggs….I’ll get him a few of those

Eddie: do you think it’s too much to get him balloons…

Eddie: robin? hello? why do you guys just stop responding?

Robin: dude. he reads People magazine. like…

Robin sent a photo

Robin: that’s his inbox, dude. he left himself logged in and there’s like fifty of these People emails.

Eddie: robs, don’t kick a guy while he’s down

Eddie: that’s poopy :(

Robin: you’re the reason he’s feeling so shitty! suck his dick or something, fuckhead. that might make him feel better

Eddie: yeah? you think?

Eddie: doesn’t he use flavored condoms though? 

Eddie: mmmm…strawberry dick

Robin: HE BOUGH CHAPPELL ROAN TICKETS??? THE BASTARD

Robin: he doesn’t even know who she is…

Robin: also

Robin: please don’t send me “mmmm….strawberry dick” ever again.

Eddie: sto psnooping and i won’t do that

Robin: …no

Eddie: get ready for me to suck your best friend’s dick, then. I got him three of those Reese’s eggs, a tub of ice cream, a bouquet of white roses, and Walmart’s finest boxed wine.

Eddie: he’ll forget about his woes with ye olde harambe

Eddie: cuz he’ll only think of my name, motherfucker

Seen just now

Robin: I hate u

Eddie: eat my farts

Robin: 🖕

Eddie: I love you too, robs

Robin: get me sprite please.

Robin: and pads ultra absorbent in the orange wrapper.

Eddie: will do with haste, m’lady

Eddie: got you a new bottle of midol and a large chewy nerds rope

Robin: thank you

Robin: just don’t tell me when you suck his dick, that’s all I ask

Eddie: I make no promises.

Seen just now

——— Steve: Why is there like five Reese’s eggs sitting on my bedspread right now?

Eddie: I’m apologizing

Steve: For?

Steve: Wait…Is this about that gorilla? Dude, don’t worry about that. You could’ve told me that it happened eight years ago.

Eddie: oh thank god

Eddie: robin keeps encountering me in the kitchen in the middle of the night with her scary lesbian aura and the eyes sharp enuf to kill a man

Eddie: I got you ice cream and flowers, too did you see them ????

Seen 3m ago

Steve: When are you coming home?

Eddie: uhhhhh

Eddie: like two hours my shift here should be done by then if my dickwad of a manager lets me out on time

Eddie: fucker might ask me to stay back tho because the closers can’t do their jobs

Eddie: why?

Steve: I need to eat your love straight out of your asshole.

Eddie: Jesus

Eddie: …

Eddie: damnit Steve, now I’m fully erect in the walk-in

Steve: You can’t come home now?

Eddie: no sweetheart I can’t

Seen 5m ago

Steve: I put your pillows on my bed. If you don’t fuck me into next Sunday when you come back, I’ll tell Robin you’re the reason our couch has a huge stain on it.

Eddie: mmm

Eddie: you drive a hard bargain but…ok.

Steve: Really? You’re easy to convince.

Eddie: you kidding me? I’ve been wanting you in bed with me since the day I met you, pretty boy

Eddie: im fucking over the moon right now that my proposition worked

Steve: If you call it “propositioning” one more time, Robin will know about the couch.

Eddie: okay fine, I’m not propositioning

Eddie: I’m rizzing you up

Steve: What does that mean?

Eddie: you’re so offline and it’s doing things to me

Eddie: charming. I’m charming u

Eddie: you’re my favorite old person.

Steve: ?

Steve: I’m twenty-three.

Eddie: whatever you say, peepaw

Eddie: I gotta go have to take care of this massive hard-on you gave me. can’t wash dishes like this

Steve: Yeah? We should put that to the test.

Eddie: and I’m the freak ??

Seen just now

——— Robin has created a group chat with two other people

Robin: the next time you guys resolve the issues you two idiots create for each other, can you let me know ahead of time? you’re lucky I didn’t bring Chrissy home with me from class.

Eddie: I don’t know what you’re talking about nothing happened

Robin: I thought somebody brought home a girl, but it was just Steve.

Steve: Do I sound like a pretty girl at least?

Robin: the prettiest, but seriously. 

Robin: I don’t need to hear you guys getting it on while I’m trying to eat my after school taco.

Eddie: don’t you need Chrissy for that ??

Robin: I’m going to put nair in your shampoo.

Steve liked a message: "the prettiest, but seriously."

Steve: I’m ordering pizza. You guys want cheesy bread?

Robin: Yes!

Eddie: plz? With the garlic dip too 🥺 ??

Steve liked a message: "plz? with the garlic dip too 🥺 ??"

Robin: you text like a bottom

Steve: Trust me, he’s not. ;)

Robin: uggghhhhh!! I’m so proud of you two but also go fuck yourselves, you turds

Eddie: with pleasure

Eddie: robs, steve and I are gonna have sex before the pizza gets here

Robin: you two are insufferable.

Robin: I’m gonna sit on the porch and call my girlfriend. before I implode.

Delivered 10m ago

Robin: Chrissy says congratulations.

Delivered 2m ago

——— Eddie: robs, I’m about to have birthday sex with Steve

Eddie: put your headphones on

Robin: he opened that game you got him and immediately needed to do it? Jesus

Eddie: about to get me a slice of that birthday cake if you know what I mean

Robin: please just shut up.

——— Robin: Eddie.

Eddie: ? wut

Robin: you need to tell your boyfriend that he can’t use voice to text when you two are flirting

Robin: I was on the phone with my fucking gyno’s office and I could hear him through the other room say

Robin: and I quote

Robin: “I’m going to ravish that perky ass of yours.”

Robin: my gyno asked me if I was busy, Edward. busy having buttsex with my platonic soulmate. I was humiliated.

Robin: I need you to have a convo with him or something.

Eddie: u should buy earplugs

Robin: I WAS ON THE PHONE, EDWARD

Robin: ON THE PHONE WITH MY VAGINA DOCTOR

Robin: IT WAS EMBARRASSING FOR EVERYBODY INVOLVED

Eddie: but he’s such a slow typer

Eddie: it’s literally like watching my uncle try and use his phone

Eddie: but fine.

Eddie: I’ll make him play that game I got him or something instead of text me

Robin: fucking thank you

Robin: and stop leaving your dildo in the bathtub

Eddie: wut dildo ?? I don’t own a dildo

Robin: …

Robin: I’m gonna wring his neck, brb

Eddie: he’s using a dick that isn’t mine ?? :(

Delivered 10m ago

——— Steve: If I can’t use voice to text to flirt, then you shouldn’t be able to have loud phone sex with Chrissy, Robs.

Robin: …no comment

Eddie: are u having loud phone sex with MY platonic soulmate ??

Eddie: bro…

Robin: she told me my trumpet tounging skills were good and that she couldn’t stop thinking about them

Robin: 😔 so I got horny with it, I’m sorry

Eddie: birdie getting horny on main ?? with a praise kink of all things ??

Steve: Hey, I take offense to that. You praise me all the time.

Eddie reacted to a message: "Hey, I take offense to that. You praise me all the time."

Eddie: sorry sweetheart, ’twas only in jest

Robin: I thought Stevie was listening to music while playing his farm game! I didn’t think he could hear me!

Eddie: tsk tsk

Robin: I’m going to Chrissy’s. and turning my notifs off.

Eddie: where does she live ??

Robin: what? you’ve been to her parent’s house

Eddie: in pound town ?!!

Eddie: oh that… that sent too l8

Steve: Eddie, can you come back from your uncle’s? I started playing Stardew Valley this morning and I’m at a point where I need to find the mayor’s shorts. I don’t know where they are.

Steve: Never mind. Got them.

Steve: Why were they in Marnie’s room?

Eddie: steve… baby …

Steve: ?

Eddie: they were having crazy sex animal style

Seen just now

Steve disliked a message: "they were having crazy sex animal style"

Steve: When are you going to stop being on the internet? It’s fundamentally changed something in you that I don’t think can ever be reverted.

Eddie: that would be whimsy, m’lord

Eddie: and childlike wonder

Robin: can you guys get a room? I’m trying to drive and my stupid car play keeps reading out your text messages.

Steve: Why won’t this character leave his bedroom? Is he Eddie?

Eddie: … ur so feisty today

Steve: Feisty for you.

Robin: GET A ROOM, YOU FREAKS

Delivered just now

——— Robin: I just got home and Steve’s in the exact same spot on the couch that I left him in at like noon. it’s six.

Eddie: is he seriously still on that game I got him ??

Robin: the farm game, right? otherwise, he bought a new game while I was gone

Eddie: yeh. he mentioned it like once and I thought it wood be nice for his birthday but now I’m regretting my choices

Robin: I just peeked my head into the living room and he’s currently feeding chickens on the big screen and cooing at them as if they’re real. I don’t think we’re gonna be watching Chopped tonight.

Eddie: 😔 that’s my favorite part of our dinners tho

Robin: it’s your fault. he’s been on there since like eight this morning.

Robin: I heard him yelling about some bitch named Pierre because he couldn’t buy seeds. I thought this was supposed to be a relaxing game??

Eddie: it usually is but you know Steve

Eddie: he rages over like every game

Eddie: I just thought it would be a change of pace from that match three game he keeps getting himself sucked into

Robin: mmm…that royal match one, right? he keeps sending me invites. think he’s on like level 560.

Eddie: how ?? he started playing that two days ago

Robin: pattern recognition.

Eddie: ahhh yeahhh pattern recognition

Eddie: the reason why every horror movie marathon ends up boring for him

Eddie: he figured out the killers in the new scream movies within the first ten minutes

Robin: he’s yelling about someone named marnie?? he needs to buy hay but can’t get it. I might need you to come back from your uncle’s and convince him to put the controller down.

Eddie: no, marnie can go fuck herself. she’s having an affair with the mayor and putting everybody’s animals in jeopardy.

Robin: so much rage and gossip for a game about farming.

Seen just now

Robin: Eddie, he’s making kissy noises at an NPC and telling him that he’s gonna capture all the frogs in the world.

Robin: should I be worried?

Eddie: nah, just let him be at least this is giving him something to do

Eddie: he’s been having a pretty bummer week

Eddie: had a phone call with his parents. didn’t end well.

Robin: ah, okay. will you pick up our normal pizza order on your way back?? I’m not in the mood to cook tonight.

Eddie: yeh, sure

Robin: remind me to send you money on Venmo.

Robin: I’m gonna get him to info dump.

Robin: maybe I’ll start playing with you guys, too.

Eddie: don’t worry about the Venmo thing. but I am going to force you to play. think you’ll love it.

Eddie: although, then I’ll have to deal with two Stardew addicts

Eddie: oh well, be home soon

Seen 2m ago

——— Robin: can Chrissy live with us?

Eddie: I don’t see a problem with it, homie

Steve: Yeah, I don’t see why not.

Steve: Is everything okay though? Does she need a place to stay right now?

Robin: everything’s fine, Stevie. don’t need to worry

Robin: I just want her with me and as much as I love you guys, I’m tired of being the only woman in the apartment

Robin: and being the only level-headed one

Robin: but mainly because I want to cuddle my girlfriend every night

Steve: Yeah, sure.

Eddie: fuck yeah

Eddie: two pairs of best friend chaos

Eddie: surely this will go well

Robin added a person to the group

Chrissy: Hey guys!!

Eddie: Chrissy, my love my light my world

Eddie: you’re going to regret everything

Steve emphasized a message: "Chrissy, my love my light my world"

Steve: I thought I was that?

Eddie: you’re my moon, stars, and galaxy

Eddie: you’re the universe

Steve: Hehe, really?

Robin: hey chris, this is how they are please get used to it because they’ve been driving me insane for months now

Chrissy: I think it’s cute! 💕

Chrissy: I should add them in the Sims!!

Steve: What’s that?

Robin: oh no

Eddie: Chrissy, don’t do it don’t tell him

Chrissy: Oh, it’s this game where you can make characters and build them a house and basically guide their lives. It’s really cool, Steve!

Chrissy: You should play it!

Steve: Is it fun?

Chrissy: Oh my god, yeah! You can make anybody and literally do anything. 

Chrissy: Like think of all the people you hate.

Chrissy: You can make them and kill them and make them suffer and it doesn’t actually harm anybody in real life, it’s great! 💕

Robin: Chrissy

Chrissy: Yes, love?

Robin: he just disappeared into the home office.

Eddie: somebody needs to take his card away from him like right now

Robin: too late. I just heard the music start up.

Eddie: Chrissy, I love you to bits and pieces but I think you’ve successfully indoctrinated a new monster

Steve: I can fine tune the genders of these guys.

Steve: I’m making a dog and his name is going to be Peanut.

Steve: This game is wonderful.

Delivered 30m ago

Steve: Eddie’s pregnant and the kitchen is on fire.

Eddie: wut how it’s been half an hour

Eddie: why am I pregnant

Eddie: steve, what did you do

Steve: 😏

Steve: You know what I did.

Eddie: Steve. I’m coming home early from my trip at Wayne’s. but I need you to answer when I call you. I can’t be horny in here.

Robin: You guys are disgusting. Chrissy, what have you done?

Chrissy: Robin, we’re getting married in the Sims.

Robin: I luv you 💕

Chrissy: Now we’re having sex animal style.

Eddie: I hate that I taught you that.

Steve: We had a son.

Seen just now

Eddie liked a message: "We had a son."

Eddie: name him corn. it would be funny

Seen 5m ago

Eddie: no love for corn boy ?

Steve: Sometimes I wish you would shut up.

Eddie: make me

Steve: I’m gonna be fucking Eddie when he comes home in like thirty minutes. Don’t come back until I text you.

Robin: I’m staying at Chrissy’s tonight to help her pack. don’t do butt stuff on the couch.

Eddie: I make no promises

Steve liked a message: "I make no promises"

Seen 5m ago

——— Robin: Steve, what’s with the orange envelope on my desk? it’s too ominous for my liking.

Steve: You should open it! :D

Steve: It’s a gift for you and Chris for your guys’ one year!

Robin: CHAPPELL ROAN

Steve: :)

Steve: In New York, too! I found the good flights from Chicago to there and back. I booked you guys a hotel and there’s a whole printed out page of all the good restaurants in the area! And I also have some cash that you guys can use for food and souvenirs and stuff!

Robin: …Steve you beautiful beautiful man thank you

Robin: I’m making your favorite dinner tonight

Steve: Eddie’s reading a book right next to me, though?

Robin: why are you gay

Robin: no bitch. I was talking about a reuben sandwich

Robin: but I guess if you wanna suck cock, then whatever

Steve: Eh. I’ll save it for dessert.

Steve: Also, you don’t have to act surprised about those tickets. I know you looked through my emails.

Steve: You’re literally this motherfucker.

Steve has sent an image

Robin: That’s literally just Snoopy.

Steve: You got this.

Robin: …oh

Robin: maybe don’t subscribe to People magazine and then leave fifteen tabs about harambe open on my laptop

Steve: Blame Eddie.

Robin: Blame Eddie, you’re so right.

——— Eddie: Chrissy, am I being shunned?

Chrissy: Harambe.

Eddie: what?

Steve: The gorilla.

Eddie: not this again

Robin: you have been banished to the shadows for aiding me in my quest to find the Chappell Roan tickets

Eddie: YOURE THE ONE WHO SNOOPED I TOLD YOU NOT TO

Chrissy: Babe…you told me you didn’t.

Sent 10m ago

Robin: I’ve been shunned :(

Eddie: welcum to the club, loser

Robin: I hate you

Eddie: :)

Steve: Eddie’s pregnant again.

Seen just now

Eddie liked a message: "Eddie's pregnant again."

Eddie: plz name it corn this time plzzz

Steve disliked a message: "plz name it corn this time plzzz"

Eddie: I shall avenge you corn boy, for you will not be shunned like your father

Steve: If I stop shunning you and suck your dick, will you be normal?

Eddie: maybe

Steve: Robin, Chrissy. I need you to go to the grocery store for a little bit. I have something to do before I need to go to work and you guys can’t be here.

Robin: you guys are like rabbits when is it hunting season

Steve: Love you too

Robin: Love you more, dingus. Just please stop fucking all the time.

Eddie: how else am I going to be pregnant?

Robin has left the group chat

📱—————📱 I plan on making a part two for this one! Here it is as-is, for now, though.

[margoteve]

Polichinelle's Secret Part 5 - Director Shinomiya

Summary: Director Shinomiya is let in on at the secret. Aka. The last part.

Read on AO3

Previous parts:

Part 1 - Mina, Part 2 - Hoshina, Part 3 - The Recruits, Part 4 - Kafka, Bonus Secret.

“I have to commend you, Captain Ashiro. Your Division's most recent results are impressive,” Director Shinomiya read through the report. It was Mina’s last day at the JAKDF Headquarters. 

“Thank you sir.” Mina stood at attention in Isao Shinomiya’s office, waiting.

“With this year's recruits, Third Division seems to be aiming for First Divisions position as the strongest in Japan,” he noted. “We shall need that strength in upcoming years. Kaiju no. 8 and Kaiju no. 9 pose unique threats if what information we have is to be believed. The cooperation between Divisions might be the key to effective Defence against kaiju threat.”

“Sir.”

“That being said, I have read the letter you have passed from Kikoru to me.” Isao picked up the said letter, opening it again. Truly, its content perplexed him. He taught his daughter well and he knew she wouldn’t be asking him anything on a simple whim. “And I have considered all that has been discussed… I think an inspection to Third is in order.” 

Mina nodded. “It will be an honour to host you, Director at the Tachikawa base.”

Director Shinomiya watched sternly over Captain Ashiro. There was something being hidden from him. During Ashiro’s stay there have been 3 kaiju incidents in the area overseen by the Third Division. During all of them at some point there has been a malfunction on the kaiju monitoring systems. It always would come back online right after the kaiju was subjugated. Isao thought that was a very strange coincidence. Their systems should not be malfunctioning like that. And yet…

Captain Mina Ashiro saluted him and left in order to get ready to go back to Tachikawa. She seemed pleased. And that somehow concerned him. 

Having his secret out was extremely liberating to Kafka. They figured out that his suit being at an embarrassing 1% release level was due to him being a kaiju. That’s good. Two his training got modified. He still had the regular drills but now Vice Captain Hoshina added extra training more suited to Kafka's abilities. It was just a week and he felt like he was finally going somewhere as himself and not Kaiju no. 8.

During the 3 Operations that happened within one week he was asked personally into the field as a test by the Vice Captain. They had to disable the detection systems for him hence why it could also only be done by the very last second. All 3 times went pretty smoothly but Hoshina always found something to comment on and later correct during the one on one sparring sessions. He was pushing Kafka more than the others, drilling hand to hand techniques that would be way more useful to him as he just couldn’t seem to be any good with the firearms. 

Unfortunately it also meant that by the end of the work day Kafka was too tired and dead to the world to do anything else. But that was good. Really good. For once Kafka’s overthinking mind wasn't causing him anxiety. 

When he did have a moment he enjoyed being part of the group. He belonged somewhere. And so he got into a habit of doing things for them. Having gotten really good at those partial transformations to not trip the alerts he could carry heavy equipment, jump higher for recon. He only fully transformed in the underground testing bunkers. Otherwise, he was free to be himself. 

There was also the whole HQ debacle.

“Realistically, we don’t know what the Brass is gonna decide,” Hoshina warned him after one of the training sessions. “We can only give our honest testimonies and hope they can see our point of view.”

Kafka had to accept that. 

Obviously he would prefer the option where he is accepted by JAKDF outside of Third Division. He also realized that if the HQ will not accept him it will put Mina and Vice Captain Hoshina into a very sticky situation. Possibly including in it the rest of his platoon. The thought of them being dishonorably discharged or even court martialed was sitting ill in his stomach. 

“Vice Captain!” Ikaruga rushed into the underground training area. 

“What is it?” Hoshina turned his head towards the platoon leader. 

“Captain Ahiro is on her way back, with Director Shinomiya accompanying her!” Ikaruga reported.

“Well, Kafka,” Hoshina smirked. “Looks like we are going to find out the verdict sooner than we thought.” 

Kafka swallowed nervously. No pressure, really.

The entire rookie platoon was called into the theatre as Director Shinomiya watched as Kafka sparred with Hoshina.

“Captain Ashiro, you claim it has the transformation under control?” Director ask, his eyes still following the combatants. 

“Yes, sir.”

“Hmm.” Shinomiya acknowledged the words. 

When he was introduced to Kafka Hibino there was nothinf special that struck him about the man. The revelation of his- its abilities, shocking at first, posed an advantage that he didn't predict. If only they could be sure…

“Permission to speak.”

Kikoru's voice brought Isao back from the depth of his thoughts. 

“Speak, recruit.” Isao turned around to face his daughter. 

“Director… father, Kafka Hibino has saved my life during the entry exam's resurrection incident caused by number 9. I believe in him. And so does the others present here.” She spoke firmly, with conviction.

“So you would place your trust in it?” he asked.

“Yes.” 

That unwavering determination… “Hikaru, she is truly our daughter,” he thought. 

“Any other officer would like to speak now?” He looked over the line. The most promising rookies of the last 2 decades. All gathered together here. 

“Reno Ichikawa, sir.” Reno stepped forward.

“Iharu Furuhashu.” Iharu was next.

“Speak.”

“I have been accompanying officer Hibino since before the first transformation. He saved my life twice - once from a stray yoju attack, while he was still human and second time from number 9's attempt of kidnapping. Officer Furuhashi, can confirm the second instance as he was also involved in it.” 

Isao listened to the report with a stone face. “Officer Furuhashi, do you confirm?”

“Yes, sir!”

“If I may, Director,” Mina spoke up again. “I have compiled the statements of the officers into a file. It also includes a statement from civilians officer Hibino has saved on his first night as a kaiju. Officer Ichikawa was also witness in it.”

Isao didn't answer to that. The kaiju either was truly a man of honour or the greatest actor. He needed to see that for himself. 

“What fortitude can these bunkers wistand?” He asked instead. 

“Up to 8.” Captain Ashiro replied.

That was not enough. Plus, he would need someone to assist him in case things would get out of hand. Ashiro and others here, while powerful, could be emotionally compromised. 

“Captain Ashiro, your presence is requested again in HQ, I require you, officer Shinomiya and officer Hibino to accompany you as a sign of cooperation between First and Third Division,” Director spoke up. 

“Sir?” Ashiro looked at him uncertain. 

“I need to see for myself the control and strength of no. 8. If indeed he is to be trusted, his cooperation will give us an edge in upcoming battles with no. 9.”

Everyone's faces lit up a little as Isao spoke. Did this mean-?

“We will need support from the rest of the Board,” Director Shinomiya quickly cooled their enthusiasm. “Which might be harder to gain. They have a pretty set mindset and one irregular kaiju might not change it.”

“Sir, does it mean-?” Mina spoke up. Her voice was even but Isao could see the hope in her eyes.

“You have my support in this subject if number 8 performs according to expectations you put on it,” he confirmed. 

Suddenly, a pair of arms tightly wrapped around his middle. Isao looked down, surprised. It was Kikoru… 

Isao placed a hand on her shoulder. It seemed to snap the girl back to reality as she quickly jumped back, standing at attention. She saluted him quickly, red colouring her face, and rejoined the unit.

Never before has this happened. Not since Hikari… What would have prompted his girl-?

His eyes wandered over the rookies, the Captain and finally the combatants below. The Vice Captain and kaiju were still fighting. No, nevermind. He will unpack this another time. 

The fight below was what he was here for. Yes, watching it for longer reassured him in his decision. Their moves were too practiced. No. The kaiju needed to be further tested. But the concept was brilliant and exactly what they might need in the future. 

“Captain, inform the Vice-Captain they can stop.”

The preparations for Kafka’s trip were made. Director was going to move out right after the evening meal to give him time to visit other facilities in Tachikawa. It was a pretty standard inspection. Nothing out of the ordinary. 

At dawn the group loaded up onto a transport car. The one Director and Ashiro arrived before was too small for the 4 people and Isao wanted to keep an eye on kaiju no. 8 himself. 

Initially, nothing happened. Hibino was visibly fighting himself not to jump to attention whenever Director Shinomiya as much as glanced at him. Ridiculous beast. It reminded Isao of other cadets first meeting him. It almost made it look human to him. 

Then, suddenly, no. 8 looked up and stood up. Next to him Bakko also raised its head.

“What is it?” Ashiro asked. 

“There's… something is coming. We need to turn the car around.”

Isao raised his eyebrows. He read about this in Captain Ashiro’s report. ‘Kaiju detection sense’ they called it. Apparently number 8 could sense other kaiju and even their type. Usually it was only active in the kaiju form, so whatever it was had to be powerful. If this wasn’t a ruse, that is.

“Can you give us more?” Isao asked.

“Not like this, sir,” Hibino replied. Everyone in the car got his meaning. “Sir, do I have permission to partially transform?”

Partially, huh? “Permission granted.” Isao replied.

Kafka’s upper body shifted. The black scales consumed his uniform and his face changed into a demonic skull. The kaiju stood still as seconds ticked by. 

“It’s an air raid…” it finally spoke up. “There’s dozens of wyvern type coming from East and- and I think something is guiding them here. This type of kaiju never works together. I can almost sense something but there’s just too many of them.”

Isao had to admit he was impressed. 

“Captain,” Isao turned his head to Mina. “Contact Tachikawa base-” 

“They- they are descending towards the base!” Kafka interrupted him. 

Mina jumped up and banged on the wall separating them from the cockpit. “Driver! Turn the car around!” 

The ground shook kilometers away from the base from the aerial and ground assault the kaiju were performing on the base. The transport car was speeding down the road. Thankfully empty for the late hour.

“We’re not going to get there back in time…” Kafka was sitting back down, hands curled into fists.

“Everyone at the base are skilled warriors. Trust them, Kafka Hibino,” Kikoru said. She has been silent the entire time. 

Kafka looked at her ready to refute but something about the way Kikoru looked silenced him. The girl was frowning deeply, clearly battling her own emotions. 

“Director Shinomiya, I ask you to let me, kaiju no. 8 and Officer Shinomiya to go on our own and support the defending combatants.” Mina looked with great seriousness and determination to Isao. “I’ll go with Bakko and Officer Shinomiya. Number 8 can follow on his own.”

The transport car will not make it in time. That much Isao agreed on with Ashiro. “You are asking to unleash number 8.”

“Yes. We, in Third Division, trust him greatly.”

Isao looked to number 8. “What do you say?”

“I can’t sit idly by when my comrades are fighting alone, while I have the power to save them!” Hibino retorted.

“Very well. If it comes to this, I will deal with the consequences.”

“Thank you, sir.” 

By the time the transporter arrived at the base it was over. Countless injured and dead but far less than it could have been. 

Isao Shinomiya approached the stretcher on which Hibino was carried to the temporary First Aid tent. 

“I heard you were the one to punch that kaiju bomb away.” He noted.

“Like I said, had to do something,” Kafka replied, with a strained chuckle. His body was a mix of human and kaiju at the moment. Pieces of his kaiju flesh slowly peeling away. “Even if it has to be as a kaiju.”

Isao hummed to himself. “Kafka Hibino. You performed exactly as you should have for an officer of the Defence Force.”

Kafka’s eyes grew big and began to water at these words. 

“In the future, I have no doubts that your strength as number 8 will come to save us in the upcoming kaiju conflict, because they are coming,” Isao continued, looking over the wreckage and destruction of Tachikawa base.

“You can count on me sir!” Kafka tried to salute but his body just refused to cooperate for the moment. “Oh and one more thing, if I may be so bold - could you tell Kikoru she did a good job? I think it will mean a lot to her.” 

Isao stared at Hibino in all his audacity. “Soldiers, take him away.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. 

Director Shinomiya sighed. There was much hope in the future. His eyes fell on his daughter, talking with Ashiro and Hoshina who was also being attended to. She was his brightest one.

A smile appeared briefly on his face. Perhaps some encouragement wouldn’t hurt…

A/N: LAST PART THIS STORY IS OVER FINALLY AHAHAHA I'M FREE!!! Hope you enjoyed it, and hope to see you in my next nonsense lol.

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Two Idiots, One Body | Start • Previous • Ao3 Link • Next (Coming Soon!)

Iskall woke up with a yawn and a tired grumble into the blankets still tucked up to his chin, eyes still shut as she rubbed them into functioning. Today there was important work to be done- the gathering of enchanted books, the formation of farms, and, most importantly, the annoying of Beef, assuming he was online at all. 

Opening his sleepy eyes to get them acclimated to the early morning light, Iskall shut them temporarily a moment more before suddenly sitting upright and looking around wildly. 

"This is Beef's house," she said out loud, getting out of bed as quickly as his legs would allow without collapsing under her torso. "This- what? Dude. What?"

Confused as fuck, Iskall wandered around Beef's house, absently taking note of how nice it was. The kitchen was well-planned and well-cleaned, there was a little hallway up to the stairs, and the living room was tastefully decorated and thoughtfully arranged, if not exactly to Iskall's taste. 

The main question here, obviously, was how the fuck he'd gotten here, because unless she'd gotten blackout drunk or something, Iskall definitely had not gone anywhere near Beef's house yesterday except for to sneakily replace a block or two in the floor. Which was concerning. 

Come to think of it, thought Iskall now, making the split second decision to borrow one of Beef's glasses and a little of his milk to sip as he took a seat at the dining table, she didn't remember anything of yesterday. Or at least he was pretty sure it was yesterday. Yeah, the server had started yesterday on Monday. Today was Tuesday, right? 

He pulled out his phone to check the date. It was Wednesday. 

Well, shit. 

Several people had also messaged her to let him know that Beef had been online yesterday and she had completely missed it. 

Well, shit! 

<Iskall85> stress  <Iskall85> did i get really stupidly drunk yesterday and do something that i'm going to regret once i remember what it is  <Stressmonster101> idk did u? <Iskall85> IM BEING SERIOUS  <Mumbo> Mate you weren't even online yesterday  <Mumbo> are you ok  <Iskall85> i think i might need to see a doctor for memory issues  <Docm77> what kind of doctor lol  <Iskall85> NOT YOU  <PearlescentMoon> wow 

With a sigh, Iskall stood up and walked out of the door. There was only one person he could think of who could help her solve this mystery. 

-- 

"Nope," said Xisuma, eyes unreadable behind his helmet as he scrolled back through several days' worth of server logs. "No teleportation commands have been used on either you or Beef since you joined. I have no idea how you ended up in his house." 

"Well, that's just great," sighed Iskall, one hand placed on his hip in habitual annoyance. "I can't even ask him what's going on because he's not online right now!" 

"Hm," said X, tone indicating that his mind was drifting elsewhere at the moment. "You said you'd only visited once?"

"Yes, yesterday," said Iskall. "To fix his house. The whole thing is really weird, man. I woke up in his bed." 

X glanced over at her, and Iskall realized too late that he might have said too much. "You woke up in his bed without realizing how you got there," he said, deadpan. 

Iskall had to fight to maintain eye contact. "Yes," she said. "I swear it's not what it looks like. Come on," he added, finally breaking composure and snickering into one hand, "we hate each other, dude." 

Xisuma sighed. "I'm not calling you a liar, Iskall," he said. "I'm just trying to figure out what's going on here. Whatever you two have going on is," he waved one gloved hand vaguely in the air beside him, "none of my business." 

Iskall groaned in sudden realization. "Wait. Oh no. Now everybody's going to think we're together! X. I-sooma. You need to do me a favor." 

"I need to do you a favor?" asked Xisuma, raising one eyebrow. 

"Yes," said Iskall, leaning forwards desperately. "If anyone, ANYONE asks about me and Beef, please tell them that we have nothing to do with each other. We are not together. We haven't even been online at the same time. Please. Grian would never shut up about it." 

X blinked twice, assuming the exact air of a lizard who had just walked outside into the middle of a hurricane expecting its natural habitat of the desert. "Ok." 

Iskall clapped her hands and rubbed them together, standing up. "Okay. Great. Thanks a million, man. I need to get home before my cookies burn. Bye!" 

"Good luck," X called after him as she ran out of the door, sighing as it closed behind him with a slam. Sometimes he really wondered how he ended up in this situation. 

"Would've been nice to be an admin for a normal Minecraft server, you know," he grumbled to nobody in particular as he leaned back in his chair and took a second glazed look at the admin console that was still pulled up in front of him. "If those even exist." 

-- 

Iskall hummed to herself as he hammered a sign directly into Beef's nice shiny hardwood floors, the surface of it still shining with fresh black paint. She figured that if he was going to not even bother to be on at the same time as him, she may as well leave a message while he was at it. 

Noticing a typo, Iskall quickly painted over it in red paint, then stepped back to admire his work. Hallo Beef, the sign read. Where are you? We keep logging on at different times. We should coordinate something. Your loving neighbour, Iskall. 

With a stretch and a yawn, she walked out of the house, not bothering to shut the door behind him. Beef would be online to shut it tomorrow, if present trends persisted. Besides, her head was starting to go all foggy. Iskall figured it was time for a quick afternoon nap. He just hoped she didn't miss anything.

[big-snot-1997]

An Unusual Deal

Spamton x Reader

---18+ ONLY---

1000+ words

Contains: Sneeze kink, nose kink, contagion, cold, touching noses, handkerchief, sniffling, cuddling, flirting, literal sleeping together

Additional Descriptors: Reader is a Lightner, Reader is gender neutral, Reader is not Kris, Reader gets sick, No use of (Y/N)

Synopsis: You pay Spamton to get you sick.

AO3 Link

You're sitting on a bench in Cyber City, half lost in your thoughts and watching cars go by. You've had a long and tiring day, and you're trying to figure out what to do for the remainder of the evening. Finally, you decide to go and see that handsome salesman who lives in the dump. His constant huge grin and enthusiastic personality always cheer you up.

As you enter his shop, you see that Spamton is leaning against the counter with his head in his hands. When he glances up and sees who you are, he immediately perks up.

"WELL,, IF IT ISN'T THE LIGHT nER!! HOW'S MY [[Favorite customer]]?"

"I've been better. Today kinda sucked. How's my favorite salesman?" 

"I'M [Alright Alright Alright Alright Alr] BUT I'V3 GOT A HHHhh...SNF HHH- HEH'TCHIEW!" He sneezes into a handkerchief decorated with a pattern of dollar signs and then wipes his long, red nose with it. "SNF I'VE GOT A [[Cold]]..."

You open your mouth to speak, but he continues.

"BUT [Don't worry about] ME!! I'M SORRY TO HEAR YOU'vE HAD A [$!$$] DAY. I'LL TELL YOU WHAT. I'VE GOT A [[Specil Deal]] JUST FOR YOU [Little sponge]. LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU WANNA [Buy Now] AND I'LL SELL IT TO YOU FOR [[The low low price of   ]]."

A blush spreads across your face, and it takes you a moment to respond. "...anything?"

"YES!!! DO YOU WANT [Hyperlink Blocked]? DO YOU WANT [[HotSingle]]?? SNF WHAT'S YOUR [[HeartShapedObject]]'S DESIRE ??"

"I want your cold."

"WHAT?" He responds with a puzzled look on his face. "TRYING TO GET OUT OF A [Host Your Meeting Online for Free], ARE YOU??" He pauses to consider this. "ANYTHING FOR A [[Valued Customer]] LIKE YOU. 100 KR0MER," he declares before placing his used handkerchief on the counter.

You shake your head, and blush harder. "I...want to catch it straight from you."

"HUH..." He thinks for a moment and finally understands what you're after. He takes the handkerchief back and smirks. "THAT 'S GONNA COST YOU A LITTLE MORE [[Cash Money]] [Angel]. 200 KrOMER."

You nod and place a bundle of Dark Dollars on the counter. He takes it and puts it into the cash register.

"4LRIGHT. LET'S GET [Start Free Trial Now]." He puts up a sign to indicate that his shop is closed for the day and locks the door. "SO, LIGHT nER..." He begins to speak as he approaches you. "YOU KNOW I ALW4YS MAKE SURE A CUSTOMER GETS THEIR [Product] AND [[100% Satisfaction]], RIGHT??" You nod in response.

He leans in very close to you - so close that the tip of his nose is touching yours. "YOU PAID [Hard-earned] [Dinero] TO CATCH MY COLD, AND I'M GOING TO MAKE SURE THAT HAPPENS. [Okay]??" You nod again and smile excitedly.

"EHEHEHEH..." He chuckles at your reaction. "COME WITH ME." He takes your hand and leads you to the back of his store, where he has an old, beat-up couch. "OKAY. NOW MAKE YOURSELF [Comfortable]." You get onto the tattered couch and lie on your back. Spamton climbs on top of you, and the two of you are face to face.

"SNDFF I FEEL A [Sneeze] COMING ON," he says, looking into your eyes flirtatiously as he rubs his nose with one finger. He moves his face even closer to yours and positions himself so that his nostrils are touching your nose. It's surprisingly warm to the touch. His position also draws attention to just how big his nose is compared to yours - it must be at least a foot long.

"YOU KNOW, [Angel]," he begins as he caresses the side of your face with one hand. You lean into his touch contentedly as he speaks. "I'VE BEEN SNEEZING [[All Day Estate Sale]] AND IT' S ONLY GONNA TAKE [One (1)] LITTLE SNEEZE TO GET YOU AS [[Totally Sick, Dude!]] AS I AM..."

"Mmh, I can't wait," you respond quietly. He smirks, hearing the excitement in your voice.

You feel his nostrils twitch against your nose. "HHH...SNF I'M GETTING [Closer]," he says, his voice sounding congested. You bite your lip.

"SO, YOU'RE FROM [[Heaven]]...HAVE YOU EVER HAD A [Cyber Cold] BEFORE ??" he asks.

"Can't say that I have," you answer, and he laughs softly.

"W3LL, [[Number 1 Rated Salesman1997]] IS HONORED TO GIVE YOU YOUR [Congratulations! 1st Prize]. Y0U'rE IN [4] A [Treat]." He winks at you.

"What do you mean by that...?"

"OH, YOU'LL SEE [Little Sponge], YOU'LL SEE." You feel his nostrils twitch again. "HHHH-! IT'S C-cuhh-COMING LIGHT nER. ARE HHhh- ARE YOU [Ready] ??"

"Yeah," you respond breathlessly. You place your hands on the sides of his face and tilt your head so your nostrils are against his.

"HHHhgh...hhHG'TSHOO!" he finally sneezes, directly into your nose. You inhale deeply and sigh.

"THERE YOU GO, [Angel]. SNRGF ARE YOU [[100% Satisfied]] ??"

"Mhm," you answer and give him a gentle kiss on the cheek. He smiles a bit sheepishly and blushes.

"LIGHT nER<, IT'S GETTING [[Late]]...WOULD YOU LIKE TO [Stay the night]? YOU KNOW...SO I CAN MAKE SURE YOU [Catch it]."

"That's a great idea, Spamton." You gently wrap your arms around him and close your eyes.

"I'M [Glad(TM) Garbage Bags $6.99] YOU THINK SO." He settles on top of you. "GOODNIGHT, [Angel]."

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

You wake up groggily from a dream you can barely remember. It feels like a few hours have passed since you fell asleep. You see Spamton still asleep on top of you, and it takes you a minute or so to remember what happened. It must be the middle of the night now. Another minute passes and you notice how badly your nose tickles. You don't want to sneeze and wake Spamton up, but you can't help it. "hgHHHH'Tchiew!" Immediately, you hear a familiar yet jarring voice inside your head.

"Liberty Mutual customizes your car insurance so you only pay for what you need."

"What...?" you say out loud, perplexed.

"OH, WAS THAT A SNEEZE? YOU'VE GOT MY [[Cold]] ALREADY ??" Spamton says drowsily. "I MUST BE PRETTY GOOD." He winks.

"Snff...Did an ad...just play in my head?"

"I TOLD YOU [[Cyber Colds]] WERE [Specil], DIDN'T I? WHAT DO YOU THINK ??"

"Mmm...it's different, but I could get used to it," you respond, already falling asleep again. It isn't long before Spamton drifts off as well.

[cgarttrailsandtails]

Hehehe…

I got another fanfic. Cause I have literally nothing else to occupy my time qwq

Characters and warnings are in the tags.

I will post this on Ao3.

The story Basically wrote itself. (Full story under cut)

Mechanical destruction

Summary: How can you save what’s broken, when you can’t even fix yourself?

Chapter one

Solar

Solar was waiting in the atrium. He and Lunar were supposed to hang out today, after all. As usual though, Lunar was late. He was always either out training with the stars he talked about, or busy doing something with Earth. Solar had felt like a burden to do this hangout in the first place, just with how busy Lunar had gotten, but Earth had said that it wouldn’t be a problem and if Solar wanted to spend time with Lunar, he had to just do it. So here he was, waiting for Lunar to get here so they could go do something. Lunar suddenly came practically crashing through the entrance to the atrium. Out of his artificial breath, he said “sorry I’m late Solar, I was at training.”

“It’s fine.” Solar said in his usually tired sounding voice. “How long were you there this time? You look like you just came out of a washing machine.” Lunar did, too. He was dripping wet, banged up a little and looked exhausted.

“I’m fine, I think I went a little too hardcore with the thunderstorm though.”

“Thunderstorm-?” Solar pressed. He didn’t want to trouble Lunar if he didn’t wanna talk about it, of course, but he was curious, albeit a little concerned.

“Yeah. Castor wanted to see if I could summon a thunderstorm, so I did, and then he told me to try and stop it again.”

“And how’d that go for you?”

“Terrible. I zapped myself at least twice and actually ended up causing it to rain harder.” Lunar replied with a huff. “I didn’t actually get it to stop, but I was already running late here so Castor said I could go and he would handle it.”

“Okay…” Solar thought for a moment. “Are you still up for this…? Cause we can reschedule, you look like you need a nap or something.”

“No, it’s all good. Just gimmie a second to get my sensors back online…” Lunar shook himself with the strength of a wilted flower, trying (unsuccessfully) to get the water out of his ports.

“You need help with that-?” Solar asked, watching Lunar’s pitiful attempts at unclogging himself.

“Nope, I got it.” Lunar said, refusing help yet again, like he had done the past several times he obviously needed it.

“Yeah, you do. Come here.” Solar insisted. Lunar moved closer begrudgingly so Solar could get the water out. After being

un-waterlogged, he shook himself with much more ease.

“Thanks, I guess” Lunar murmured. Solar could tell he needed to be charged at least, training usually drained his battery, though he was trying not to let it show.

Standing back up, Solar inquired, “are you sure you don’t need to charge? Your training usually takes the battery straight out of you.”

“I’m fine, Solar.” Lunar replied, a bit harshly.

Something is definitely wrong. Solar thought. He never acts like this unless he’s been doing too much. Out loud, Solar voiced his concerns, never too afraid to speak for his friends’ wellbeing. “Lunar, I think you overworked yourself, you should go charge.” He suggested.

“How would you know what I should do?” Lunar snapped back. He obviously wasn’t very happy right now. Actually, when was he ever truly happy? Solar added in his head. Yet he pressed on.

“It’s not good to drain your battery so much and then not do anything about it Lunar, you should take a break-“

“AND WHAT THE HELL WOULD YOU KNOW ABOUT TAKING A BREAK!?” Lunar loudly interrupted. “YOU NEVER TAKE BREAKS OF YOUR OWN! YOU ALWAYS WORK UNLESS SOMEONE WANTS TO ACTUALLY HANG OUT WITH YOU, AND EVEN THEN YOU KEEP IT SHORT!” Lunar kept going, but Solar didn’t hear it. He didn’t want to hear it. But Lunar was right. He hadn’t taken a break of his own accord since back in his old universe, back when sun… his only friend there… had still been alive. He felt the urge to just leave, to walk away, but he didn’t want to seem like a bad friend… so he stayed till Lunar was done with his rant. He was brought back to reality when Lunar shouted at him. “SAY SOMETHING!”

He didn’t have anything to say. “I… I’m sorry, Lunar.” And with that, he turned on his heel and left. He went back to his room to just… do something. Anything, just to take his mind off of this. However, as he went, he thought, oh god. Lunar is right.

Chapter two

Lunar

He left. He actually just left. Lunar thought angrily. How could he just leave? After all that? He just walked away? Why!? Lunar stormed to the daycare, not caring about the tiny rain could that had accumulated over his head. I’m gonna find Earth.

He reached the daycare shortly after it had closed and all the kids had gone home. Earth looked over when he burst in unannounced. “Lunar? What’s wrong? you seem upset.” Earth asked. “Weren’t you supposed to hang out with Solar?”

“I was…” Lunar replied, the sass dripping from each word. “But he left.”

“He left? What happened? He wouldn’t just leave,” she said. “From what I know, he really wanted to hang out with you.”

“We had a fight.” Lunar told her, sitting down on the stupid donut that was always lying near the doors in the play area.

“Oh no!” She exclaimed. “What was it about? Maybe I can help you.” She said, sitting on the floor to be at least near Lunar’s level.

Lunar sighed. “He wanted to reschedule because I was supposedly ‘overworking’ myself.”

“Well that’s a pretty good reason, don’t you think? You are usually in need of a charge when you come back from your training.”

“Yeah, but… I really wanted to actually spend time with him. I only ever get to when we have him for a a video guest.”

“Did you tell him that?”

Lunar paused. Had he? “No…” he said after a while. He felt bad now. He had just yelled at Solar for nothing! “I… I yelled at him. I yelled at him when he was only trying to look out for me, Earth!” He said, distressed now.

“Well, if you did that, you should apologize to him.”

“Yeah I guess…” Lunar agreed.

“You should charge first though. It’s better to do it with a clear head so the same thing doesn’t end up happening.” Earth suggested. A nap did sound like a good idea.

“Alright.” Lunar said, getting off the donut. Earth helped him to plug in and gave him the donut, as he liked to sleep in it.

“Sleep well, Lunar.” She said before shutting off the lights.

“Bye Earth.”

“Goodbye.” And she left. Lunar’s last thought before sleep was a terrible idea. Am I a bad friend?

Chapter three

Solar

“YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF SH*T! I HOPE YOU’RE HAPPY, YOU SELFISH COPY!” Moon was screaming again.

“What did I do this time?” Solar asked, still done with Moon’s terrible temper.

“WHAT DID YOU DO? WHAT DID YOU DO!? YOU KILLED MY BROTHER, THAT’S WHAT YOU DID!”

“You know very well it wasn’t my idea, Moon.” Solar explained, again. It felt like he had done this a hundred times already.

“I DON’T CARE! YOU SHOULD HAVE STOPPED HIM!”

“I couldn’t. It was his decision.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Moon growled. “You are the reason Sun is dying, and I can’t save him. I hope you get scrapped for parts you worthless animal.” Moon stormed away, undoubtedly going back to desperately trying to fix Sun. Finally, he’s gone. Solar thought. Moon’s rants were always like this. What had he done to deserve this? He had tried to stop Sun, but there was nothing he could do. It was Sun’s decision to separate them. Still, Solar couldn’t help but think about it. What if I just didn’t try hard enough? He thought. What if I had been able to convince Sun to not go through with it? Then, It should have been me.

Solar woke with a start. He sighed. “Ah. Just another nightmare.” He unplugged from the wall. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep. He went over to his little “project” that he had been working on. It was a pretty useful thing, a device that could track and teleport people through other dimensions. It was, however, nowhere near done. Solar was still waiting on some parts, but he could get the wiring in place. So he set to work. Unbeknownst to him, there was a presence lurking in the shadows.

“Brother, we’ve finally made it. We can do it now!”

“Yes, strike and rip and tear! Watch as the blood seeps into the ground, I can just imagine how FUN this one will be…”

Pain. Solar felt it as someone grabbed him, immediately ripping some unimportant wire and breaking a few on his rays. Solar threw the perpetrator off of him and jumped up, seeing it was none other than Bloodmoon. “Why are you two out to get everyone!?” He exclaimed, ready for a fight now.

“Why not?” One of them replied. “We do love the blood.” They leaped forward again, going for another strike. Solar dived out of the way in the nick of time, leaving the twins to crash into the wall. It happened like that twice more, before the other twin spoke. “I’m tired of this cat and mouse! Stand still!”

“How about, no.” Solar replied, smirking. “Look, I don’t want to have to kill you, so how about you just leave now?”

“Never. This may be the only chance we get. Oh how we’ve wanted to see the life leave you, see the blood pour from your wounds!”

“Ooh. You’re gonna be disappointed then, when I send you to hell instead.” Solar shot back.

“Try if you can!” Bloodmoon taunted. They fought a while, Solar held his own for a long time without using his cannon. Eventually though, Bloodmoon was able to get Solar in a lock. He couldn’t move. “Oh how fun this will be…” Bloodmoon snarled as they ripped Solar apart. He struggled to free himself, but he could feel every rip, every tear that the twins were making on him. They broke his right eye, tore at his body, and ripped him apart, piece by piece. The oil flowed into Solar’s one good eye, making it nearly impossible to see. He wanted to scream, but he knew that was just what Bloodmoon wanted. So he bit it back, and after some twisting, he he aimed his cannon arm back at the twins.

“I-I warned y-you.” He said shortly. He pulled the trigger. The twins staggered back, away from Solar.

“Ugh. We will be back.” They growled as they ran away, dripping their own oil from the hole in their stomach. Solar didn’t care. At least they were gone now. Solar still couldn’t move though. His body had been severely damaged, and with that, he fell to the ground. He was dying, he knew. Yet instead of trying to call for help, his only thought was this. At least… at least I’ll get to see Sun again.

Chapter four

Lunar

Lunar was on his way to Solar’s workshop now, or the room he used as it. He had sufficiently charged, and knew he had to set this right. He still felt bad about all he said to Solar, and he understood he had to apologize. At the door, he paused. Ok, you can do this, just gotta go in and apologize, maybe explain stuff. He thought to himself. He took a deep breath, and opened the door, already speaking. “Hey Solar, I just wanted to apologize…” he trailed off when he saw the oil. He gasped when he laid eyes on the rest of the scene. Solar was on the ground, parts strewn everywhere. His right eye looked cracked, and there was oil everywhere. Some of his rays had been torn, and the rest were scrunched in, like Sun’s did when he got scared or annoyed.

“Who’s t-there…” Solar said. His voice box had been messed up, his voice dragging and distorted.

“It’s me.” Lunar replied tentatively. What had happened?

“I-I don’t know-w who you are…” Solar managed to say. “I-I can’t- see…” Lunar could tell why. There was oil dripping from his rays, covering the other eye.

“It’s me, Lunar” he repeated, moving closer. It was a terrible sight. Lunar felt the tears fall from his eyes, adding to the oil on the ground.

“O-oh.” Solar was obviously in pain, using his voice box probably didn’t help. But Lunar needed to hear his voice, needed to know he was still alive.

“I… I’m getting Moon!” Lunar said suddenly. “Hold on…” Lunar ran away, his artificial heart pounding. He called Moon as soon as he was out the door. “Cmon… pick up, pick up…” It rang for one more endless moment. After what felt to Lunar like forever, Moon answered.

“Hello?”

“Moon! You gotta come, Solar’s been hurt and-“

“Ah, gotcha. This is a voicemail. Just leave a message or something.”

“God dammit!” Lunar exclaimed, frustrated. I’ll try Sun. He thought. Moon’s more likely to answer him if they aren’t already together. The phone didn’t even get to finish ringing once when Sun picked up.

“Hey?”

“Alright so, Sun uh- wait. This isn’t another voicemail trick is it?” Lunar inquired.

“No? Why are you calling Lunar?”

“Ok good. So something happened and Solar got hurt really bad and he’s dying and I need help.” Lunar said in one breath.

“Uh. Um- uh… well, Lunar I think Moon would be the one to call in that case…”

“Yeah I tried that, and he didn’t pick up. I don’t have time to wait much longer, I…I’m scared.” He hated to admit it, but it was true. He was scared for Solar, and he felt bad. Maybe this wouldn’t have happened if I had spent the day with him like I was supposed to. He crushed the thought almost immediately, it wouldn’t help Solar to doubt his past actions right now.

“Well, uh. Do you want me to try and call him or-?”

“Yes! Please, or like add him to the call here or something.”

“Alright give me a moment.” Sun went silent on his end, but he hadn’t hung up. After a couple minutes that felt as long as years passed, Moon’s voice came over the end.

“What happened Lunar?”

Lunar took a deep breath. “So Solar got hurt really bad and he’s dying I think and it doesn’t look good and I’m going to strangle whoever did it but I really need help right now because I don’t know what to do!”

“Wow. Okay… repeat that for me one more time, but let’s try slower, okay Lunar?”

“Ugh. Solar got hurt bad, I think he’s dying, and I need help.”

“Oh god. where are you guys, I’m coming.” Moon replied hurriedly.

“We’re in the daycare, up in you guys’ old room that Solar now uses as a workshop.”

The call from Moon disconnected. Sun spoke next. “Is he coming? Should I come too?”

“Yes, and you can if you want to. I’m gonna hang up now though.”

“Okay, bye? I guess”

“Yeah bye” Lunar went back into the room. What he saw seemed worse than the first time. The amount of oil in the room was steadily increasing, Lunar felt helpless. How could he have let this happen? He was supposed to be having fun with Solar today, not let him suffer like this.

“L-Lunar? Are you back in here-?” It pained Lunar to hear Solar speak. His distorted voice box just trying to still work. At least he’s still alive.

“Yeah. Who did this?” Lunar had to know. Because if Solar died, or even if he didn’t, Lunar was going to kill that f*cker if it was the last thing he did. He was going to tear them apart like they did to Solar.

“Bloødm-on” as distorted and cut out as the name was, Lunar could still understand it. Of course. Only Bloodmoon was bloodthirsty enough to do this. Bloodmoon will pay for this. Lunar was angry. At everybody. Except for Solar. When will Moon get here?

Chapter five

Solar

It hurt, yeah. But the only thing that hurt worse right now was the fact that he could sense Lunar there. Solar knew that if he died here, right now, like he oh so wanted to, he could never forgive himself. He wanted to die, wanted to just let go and be with his Sun in whatever afterlife there was for them. But he knew he couldn’t. Not here. Not now. He couldn’t give up. He wouldn’t give up. He just couldn’t leave Lunar and the others behind. So he bared the pain flowing through every unsevered wire in his body. He kept his hold on his life. He heard footsteps again, not Lunar’s though. Lunar was sitting right next to Solar, holding his hand, which was about the only part of him not broken and leaking oil. No, these sounded heavier, and with purpose. He heard as the door swung open and whoever it was spoke.

“Okay, What happened?” It was Moon.

“Bloodmoon attacked him.” Lunar said in reply.

“Move away please Lunar.” Solar felt Lunar leave his side. Moon then turned his attention towards Solar. “Can you stand? If we can, it’d be easier to get to parts and services.”

“I-I can’t eve-en møve” Wow, speaking hurt. A lot. My voice box must’ve been broken too. Solar thought.

“Hm.” Moon said nothing else. Solar felt him adjusting some things. “There we go.” Moon said, sitting back. Solar stayed quiet as Moon and Lunar helped him onto his feet. The weight of himself was nearly crushing. The rest happened in a blur, the walk to parts and service, the analysis of the damage done. He shut down for repairs. When he turned back on, about an hour later, he could at least see again. The oil was out of his left eye, though the right one still wasn’t working. “We’ll have to get you a new eye.” Moon explained when he saw Solar awake.

“Ooh everything still hurts.” Solar said with a grimace. At least his voice worked now.

“Yeah well, be glad you aren’t dead.” Moon said shortly. Solar observed the remaining damage he could see. The oil was cleaned off, though his cannon was offline and some parts were still missing. Pieces that wouldn’t stop dripping had been bandaged if not replaced. Solar took a second to feel his rays, he knew some had been broken. And a few were, but mostly they were okay. “Lunar is outside waiting anxiously with everyone else.”Moon told him. “You want help standing?” He asked as an afterthought.

“Um. I’ll be okay on my own, I think.” Solar replied. He tried standing then, and it was surprisingly easy. “Go ahead and bring them in here, but I don’t think I wanna try walking yet.” Solar said, aware his balance was kinda off. It made sense, as a part of his left leg was still missing, but still.

“Alright, I’ll tell them.” Moon said, leaving the room. Solar day back down. He was glad he wasn’t dead, but a part of him felt like it was. He couldn’t quite place his finger on the feeling. Lunar suddenly came bounding in first, rushing to ask questions. Heh. Solar thought. At least it wasn’t for nothing.

Chapter six

Lunar

He paced. Lunar paced and paced around. The others were all just talking amongst themselves, but Lunar couldn’t stay put. He was terrified for Moon to come out and say that Solar wasn’t okay. That Solar had died or been damaged beyond repair, and just forced to suffer until he did die. Lunar felt guilty, too. I should have been hanging out with him today. I could’ve protected him, I could have stopped this… Lunar’s thoughts were interrupted when Moon came out. He rushed over, waiting to hear SOMETHING. Oh how he wished to hear something, anything good. “He’s okay. Go on in, but how about one at a time so we don’t overwhelm him?” Moon suggested. “Who wants to go in fir-“ Lunar would hear no more. He bolted in through the door, just barely hearing Moon say “welp, I guess it’s Lunar’s turn first.” He had so many questions. Without noticing anything around him, he ran straight up to Solar and asked the millions of things in his mind.

“Are you feeling okay? Did Bloodmoon come back?” And tons of other questions flowed out before Solar interrupted him.

“Woah. Slow down Lunar.” How good it was to hear Solar’s tired voice again, all okay. Lunar finally calmed down and took notice of the leftover damage. Solar still had a few pieces missing; a part on his left leg, his right arm had a few broken parts, but otherwise that looked okay. Solar’s right eye was still broken, a few of his rays still chipped and torn. But overall, he looked fine. Definitely better than he did when Lunar first found him.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Lunar asked. That was the most important thing, after all.

“Yes, I’m okay.” Lunar sighed in relief. Alright, that’s one good thing. Lunar hopped up next to Solar. He didn’t want to leave him again. Lunar wrapped himself around Solar’s right arm and waited there as the others came in and talked with Solar. Earth, Sun, even Monty had come. Moon came back in after Monty, and as everyone was settling in other areas of parts and service, there came a polite knock at the doors. Moon answered.

“Ruin!?” Moon sounded surprised. Actually, he probably was.

“Erm, sorry if this is a bad time, I just came to see if Solar was alright-? I heard what happened and I uh… wanted to come make sure he was still alive, em.” Ruin said, sounding very uncomfortable.

“Uh. Okay? Come in I guess.” Moon said, letting Ruin into the room. Lunar had never actually met Ruin before, at least he didn’t think so. Not even with the virus thing that went on. Ruin was a pretty weird animatronic, he looked like a cross between Sun and Moon, just with a bit of a different style choice. And he sounded British.

“Hi, Ruin.” Solar said, sounding kinda surprised to see Ruin there.

“Hello, I just wanted to make sure you were alright.” Ruin stated, repeating what he said to Moon.

“Huh. I didn’t know you cared.”

“I do care about everyone here, even though I haven’t met some of you…” Ruin said, looking at Lunar and Earth. “I can of course leave if you wish me to, I uh…” Ruin trailed off.

“No, it’s fine.” Solar said. Everybody kinda agreed on that. So, Ruin stayed as they all got to talking about other things to lighten the mood, and they played some games and joked around, even in the somber situation. After a couple hours, everyone went to their respective areas or homes, and Lunar thought on his way back to his apartment. If I ever find Bloodmoon again, they will feel all the pain Solar felt and more. They will feel so much pain, they’ll WISH they were dead. But I won’t let that happen. I won’t let those f*ckers die so easily…

Chapter seven

Solar

Today was a little too eventful. Solar thought as he lay in the guest room at Sun and Moon’s house. They had wanted him to stay with them for a while because of what happened, and hey, he was fine with that. He didn’t really feel like getting nearly killed again, after all. He sighed as he lay on the mattress, thinking about all the things that had happened. Looking back on it, it was kinda stupid he didn’t immediately use the cannon. Oh well. He thought. At least he pulled through and made it out alive. In his old universe, after Sun died, he had no one to live for. No one who would care if he just… gave up. But that was the past. He had a new universe now, and a new family. He smiled to himself. He knew they cared. Even Ruin cared enough to make sure he was alright! And so, after a long and exhausting day, he fell asleep. And for once since he arrived in this universe, he didn’t have a nightmare.

Notes: I thank you for reading this, I spent literally a whole day on it ;-;. I’m actually surprised it didn’t take longer, but I’m happy with how it turned out. Again, thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed! And as always, have a wonderful day or night!

[whirlybirbs]

               (   another gif by @unearthlydust​ from this beautiful set !   )

✪   —   VACANT MIRRORS  ;  B.B.  |  3/?

summary: you find out about bucky’s past, he finds out about yours. 

pairing: bucky barnes / f!reader

tags: set before & during tfatws, friends to lovers, therapy positive, trauma healing techniques, ptsd mentions, the normalization of anxiety disorders, and a good ol’ slow burn

word count: 6.4k, va va voom

a/n: oh look out here comes the plot, charactization, and growth between to pals who are maybe starting to feel a little something begin to take shape. but ignore that, there’s danger afoot. no spoilers for tfatws here!

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“You know I have to ask these questions. It’s part of the check-in.”

“Yeah,” you fire back, flat enough to warrant Dr. Hart’s scowl to grow. You can’t see it over the phone, but you know the way her words whip around you means she’s upset, “I know.”

“If you’re not following the action plan set out by the judge,” she begins, leaning forward as her tone drops into a scalding hot sort of seriousness on the other end, “You will go to prison. You know this. So, do you want to spend ten years of your life behind bars? Are you trying to get yourself locked up? Come on.”

You can’t look up from your computer’s screen. Or maybe you can, but right now, there’s a dangerous mixture of anger and guilt and frustration boiling under your skin.

“I’m trying.”

“Trying isn’t good enough for the GRC,” Dr. Hart snaps, “You know this. They’re giving you a chance — they know you’re talented. You have the ability here to go straight, to earn a living, to finally make up for those years of blackhat work.”

“Everything I did,” you fire back, ripping your eyes up to meet Dr. Hart’s, “Was for others. I didn’t get a fucking penny.”

“You’re not Robin Hood,” she shakes her head as her tone softens, “We all make mistakes. But, everything has a consequence. You know this. And this conversation isn’t even considering the other charges.”

“You know the extortion case would never hold up in court.”

Dr. Hart sighs raggedly. “And I don’t intend on ever seeing it play out in court, because you’re going to follow the conditions of your pardon.”

“The GRC is a bunch of fascists—”

“Enough,” she snaps, “If you want to go and appeal your case with the judge, be my guest, but I can almost guarantee you’ll be perp-walked out of that Federal courtroom in cuffs.”

She’s right.

Dr. Hart is right.

Your knee is bouncing, up and down and up and down. You’re wound up around yourself, arms crossed tight, brows knotted. With a shaky exhale, you just nod. You breathe, and you remind yourself that she’s right. She’s right, she’s right, she’s right. It’s not worth it. Dipping yourself back into that world, the layer of the web beneath the surface, isn’t worth it.

The GRC is your way out.

Just be a good little girl and do as you're told.

“So, I’m going to ask you again,” Dr. Hart begins, pen clicking alive on the other end of the phone call, “...Have you engaged in any illegal activities online in the last seven days?”

                                                       ◦   ◦   ◦   ◦   

Inessa Sidrova’s photo stares up at him from its place on the speckled marble counter, stacked neatly next to his notebook where her name is scrawled in chicken scratch — between two other names: Zemo and Henrikson.

His laptop, technically on loan from the FBI, sits beside both.

(When Barnes had agreed in that closed doors meeting to the conditions of his pardon, a certain FBI agent by the name of Jimmy Woo had been rather insistent that Barnes needed a personal computer in order to carry out his portion of the conditions insofar as tracking down the remaining HYDRA pawns in the States. Woo had also insisted, to the agreement of Dr. Raynor, that a personal computer would help better acclimate Barnes to the new world he’d been dropped into.

Woo was even nice enough to take an hour of his own time to show Bucky enough to get started — but was whisked away for some investigation out in New Jersey.)

Bucky rubs the cold vibranium of his left palm into his eye, then exhales long and slow.

He’s done all he can. And still, no leads on the woman.

Rounding the kitchen island, he digs his cell from his pocket. He goes back to staring at that text — the one he’d laughed out loud at the moment it lit up his phone — and he can feel that ol’ bite of anxiousness creep into his arms. His fingertips tingle.

On the television, a laugh track plays over a clip of The Three Stooges. Blue eyes flick upward, and he partially wishes a ladder would put him out of his own self-induced misery.

Outside, the antics of a Saturday night in Brooklyn roll on.

In the last few days he’s parsed through his thoughts enough to realize it’s not telling you that scares him — no, it’s telling you the truth. The whole truth. All of it. After all, the good comes with a lot of bad; the sort of bad you chain in a chest and sink in the ocean. And Bucky finds that, even still, the good is questionable at best. The good is… small. Microscopic. Completely and totally tainted by the fuckin’ decades of brainwashed, war dog bullshit.

He groans and drops his head back against the wall.

He tries, for the next twenty minutes, to formulate some sort of reply to your text message. But, half the battle is figuring out what to say, and the other half is actually typing it out. This whole flip phone purchase was really starting to sting like regret — and as much as Bucky loved technology back before the war, and all the magical possibilities it held, he can’t help but feel like an ornery old man now.

It’s the change. Steve was right. Too much change.

He can’t find the space button and he can’t figure out how to delete the random 3 he’d accidentally punched in — so, with a grumpy huff of disapproval, Bucky simply dials your number.

You pick up on the third ring.

“Don’t you know it’s Saturday?” your voice is a welcomed sound, “The History Channel is running a bunch of old war documentaries you might enjoy, grandpa.”

Bucky snorts, fiddling with the hem of his hoodie. “What makes you think I’d wanna watch that shit?”

“Everyone knows that old men like two things,” your voice is light, half-distracted from the sounds of it, “World War Two, or grilling. And honestly, you don’t strike me as the grilling type.”

“I like a good burger.”

“Yeah?” you snort, and Bucky can hear you shift your phone from one ear to the other, “Is that why you called? To hint at being hungry?”

“No,” he exhales, looking out the window, “No, I was trying to reply to your text but I can’t find the fuckin’ space button. Calling is easier.”

“Oh my god—”

“Shut up,” he barks with a laugh, sitting up, “Don’t even start — are you hungry?”

“Almost always, why?”

“Got any plans tonight?”

“... You do know who you’re asking, right?”

Bucky grins, a little boyish and a little tired. “Good point. Loser.”

“Oh, shut up. You’re the one calling me to hangout,” you snort, leaning to prop your feet up on your desk and lean back. Your chair wheels backwards, far enough for you to get a good look down the street. It’s a nice night, cool enough, and it seems like the whole borough is awake, “But, I’m only hanging out if you tell me what the fuck is up with court mandated therapy. I can’t wait another three days.”

Your anxiety has been pricked the last few days over it.

“... Do I get to pick the place?”

You roll your eyes. “Fine.”

“Great,” he exhales tightly, “I hope you’re in the mood for sushi.”

                                                       ◦   ◦   ◦   ◦   

Izzy’s is busy, but there’s privacy in the bustle.

Bucky had buzzed your apartment’s ringer and you’d flown down the stairs, looking… alive. The sort of alive that was new — like a fresh bud beginning to bloom in spring. It had made him grin, and he’d watched you push a tress of hair behind your ear as you decided it was warm enough for no jacket tonight. The light of the crosswalk sign lit you up like a star.

He was sweating.

Dr. Raynor was right — that was it, of course it was — that it was getting too warm for his usual outfit. So, he’d settled on the next best thing: a sweatshirt that was big enough and black enough that he could bury himself in it. His hands are tucked neatly into the pockets.

No gloves tonight.

He feels naked.

He shoulders the door and holds it open with the toe of his boot as you duck towards the back of the restaurant. There’s a booth in the back by a large bamboo plant — you weave through the place with a new found confidence. There’s anxiousness in your shoulders but it melts when you look back at Bucky. Like a watchful guard dog, he nods.

You settle into the booth, toss your jacket in the corner, and smirk.

“I get out sometimes,” Bucky remarks before you can even say anything. He shifts in the booth and reaches up to scratch his cheek with his right hand, “Not often, but I do.”

“I didn’t say anything...”

“You were going to,” he nearly smirks back, his brows raised as he adjusts the chopsticks on the table, “I know that look.”

You snort, nudging his boot under the table. That works a huffed little laugh out the man across from you. Almost immediately you can sense anxiousness rolling off him — it’s the tightness in his mouth that gives him away, the way he’s fussing with the soy sauce dish and trying to get it to line up perfectly with the marbling on the table. Worry flashes in your eyes.

“Bucky.”

He raises his head.

“You alright?” you ask quietly.

“You have to promise not to flip out.”

Your brows knot tightly — but before you can even question what the fuck he means, he’s casually dropping his other hand onto the table.

And you almost don’t notice at first. Your brain fills the gaps in, figuring it’s his glove. But, then you blink and his hand catches the light and you realize it’s not leather. It’s glittering obsidian, garnished with gold, and it’s moving. Flexing. Seams bending and warping and there’s a gentle hum coming from the appendages and you squint because he’s tapping his fingers on the table and there’s a metallic tik-tik-tik that meets your ears.

Then, your eyes jump to his face.

He looks pained.

You’re confused.

And then you’re not.

“You’re —”

You slap a hand over your own mouth. You have to promise not to flip out. Your eyes are eighty miles wide and your jaw is falling open and you’re leaning forward, whispering in a rushed tone because what the fuck.

“You’re that Bucky?!”

Oh, you feel stupid.

The hostess appears, suddenly. You snap backwards in the booth, Bucky tucks his hand away, and you both muster forced smiles to the waitress. She’s young. Pretty. Her name-tag says Sarah.

She asks about drinks.

Bucky gets a beer.

Slowly, you knock your knuckles against the table and drop your head into your hand. The look on your face is exhausted. “Do you guys have Mai Tais?”

The answer is yes. And you’re glad. Because you’re going to fucking need it.

The two of you are quiet until the drinks come — avoiding one anothers gazes for completely different reasons. Bucky is sheepish, a bit mortified, like he always is when people recognize him. It’s why he shaved his fuckin’ head. It worked well enough but… the arm was usually a dead giveaway.

Meanwhile, you’re wondering if you could shave your own head and disappear. Because there’s no easy way to explain the weird elation swirling in your chest right now.

Bucky’s first to speak. His beer is in his good hand. He inhales quickly, eyes darting to you as he leans forward and whispers incredulously. He speaks quickly and his words are pointed with an edge of curiosity.

“...What do you mean ‘that Bucky’?”

“Y’know, I knew there was a reason you acted like you needed a senior citizen discount. And you know exactly what I mean,” you rush out all while waving your Mai Tai and jabbing the side with the umbrella towards him, “Listen, this is a lot to take in, Mr. Avenger.”

“I am not an Avenger—”

“You helped reverse the Snap. You’re the Winter Soldier. That makes you an Avenger—”

Bucky’s shaking his head, eye screwed shut tightly because the sudden equation to his past self being considered a hero is like being socked in the mouth. He stutters over his words and shakes his head more vigorously, like he’s trying not to hear what you’re saying.

“I am not the Winter Soldier. Not anymore. And it’s not like I’m not on the fuckin’ roster, doll—”

You hold a finger up, stopping him there, and take a long sip of your sunset colored drink. You swallow. You exhale. Bucky swigs his beer.

“One, don’t call me doll,” you say curtly, then raise a second finger. You lean in and squint, “Two… Christ, the haircut really makes a big difference, doesn’t it?”

“That’s what everyone keeps saying,” he sighs raggedly, dismissing your scrutiny.

You puff your cheeks out and exhale. Leaning back in the booth, you try not to feel so fucking insane.

“...I can never have you over now.”

Bucky’s brows narrow quickly and his eyes snap to yours. “What?”

“I can’t have you over,” you explain slower with your eyes rooted to the soy sauce in the corner, “Because I don’t think I could ever handle you seeing my signed and framed Captain America poster from his USO tour in 1943.”

Bucky’s face is deadpan. “You’re kidding.”

“I really wish I was,” you gripe, “It’s an original.”

“...You’re a Cap girl,” he says suddenly, leaning back with this look in his eye. It’s less of a question. You can’t pin it down. It looks like he's damn near traumatized.

Bucky thinks — honestly — that this is the cherry on top. Every girl back then was a Cap girl, too. It figures, now, in this new century where he’s making new friends that… as per usual, Steve gets the cake. That fuckin’ pint sized bastard.

He’ll have to tell him about this.

You yank your eyes up to Bucky’s face. His mortification is shifting to surprise to amusement. You’re fast to sit up, mouth opening to fire a retort — but Bucky’s suddenly really enjoying the look of pure horror on your face at the insinuation. He’s smirking. Plain as day. He swigs his beer.

“No, no—” you raise a finger, “No, stop it. Don’t make it fuckin’ weird, Bucky, it’s not like I have his name tattoo’d on my ass. And I knew a girl in college who did.”

His brows rise sharply and you’re finding you’re regretting everything that’s coming out of your mouth.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you guffaw, gesturing for him to show you his hand again, “I wanna see.”

Bucky sighs and plucks his hand from his hoodie pocket.

With a sort of tenderness Bucky wasn’t prepared to handle, you take his metallic hand into your own. There’s an immediate twinge — one that’s procured by flashes of violence from years of being a walking weapon. He breathes, and he reminds himself that this arm is not the same that tethered him to HYDRA all those years ago.

This arm is his, it is not him.

The sensation is different. He isn’t used to anyone touching him like this; he’s used to the feeling of flesh on the other end of a punch, or a throat caught in his palm. Not the gentle pass of your fingers, delicate and purposeful, over his knuckles.

You turn over his hand, eyes alight with curiosity — and Bucky, desperate to stamp out the hotness growing in his gut, moves quickly to flick your nose.

“Ow—”

“Don’t stare,” he says coyly, “It’s rude.”

The waitress is back. His hand is tucked away, and you wrestle the stupid expression off your face long enough to order a plate of assorted maki rolls and some fried tofu. Bucky orders what seems like his usual — shrimp tempura and spicy tuna rolls.

The waitress, Sarah, disappears with a smile.

You’re grinning.

“So… Does this make me the sidekick?” you whisper playfully.

“Shut up,” Bucky laughs, his lips almost darting into a smile.

You cock your head, pushing your chopsticks across the table with a horribly coy look on your face. It’s comical. “...I think this makes me the sidekick.”

“It — stop it — it does not make you the sidekick,” Bucky says slowly as he sips his beer and pins you in the booth across from him, “I’m not a hero. You’d have better luck asking Cap on that one.”

You grow silent. There’s a question hanging on your tongue. You’re wrestling with yourself — Bucky can see that much. He frowns.

“Spit it out, Goose.”

You blink. “Was that a Top Gun reference?”

“You wanted to be the sidekick.”

You wave it off, blinking into your Mai Tai. Your voice is quiet. Even as you speak, there’s a hesitancy akin to walking on eggshells. “What happened to Cap? Is he… alive? He’s gone off the grid. It’s, like, this massive conspiracy theory online.”

“He’s upstate.”

You blink.

“That’s ominous.”

Bucky shrugs. “Someday I’ll take you. It’s… nice.”

You go quiet. You freeze, drink halfway to your mouth. Bucky can’t help but smirk at that. His laugh is more of a scoff than anything.

“Relax, Miss America.”

“Shut up — do you mean that?”

“What, that I think you’re in love with Captain America?”

“No, you bastard, that you’ll take me. To meet him.”

Bucky’s words are easy. They roll off his tongue without a second thought. He feels… okay. Like this part is okay. Not as bad as he thought it could be. His anxiousness isn’t as heavy now. He feels like he isn’t losing you. But then again, he hasn’t gotten to the bad part yet.

“He’s my best friend,” Bucky explains plainly, “And so are you.”

The admission is warm. As easy as breathing. Two months in the making.

“Your only friend,” you say quietly, offering the joke as a cover for the softening tone that dances over your words. It’s affection, you realize, as you mimic his shrug, “But, go on.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” Bucky chirps, “But, yea, I mean it. He’d like you.”

You raise your chin, wiggling a bit in the booth. It’s pride — and as much as Bucky likes the look of it, he can’t handle the ridiculousness that comes along with it. But, it’s sort of comforting. He knows this playfulness, this easiness, it’s all because he’s him. You trust him. In.a way, it strikes Bucky with guilt. There are wall of his still built up high. Maybe they’re slowly coming down, but… he’s like a stray dog, slow to trust.

“Safe to say,” you breathe, “I have a few questions.”

“I figured as much.”

You sip your drink and swallow. You raise a hand. “But — I wanna know the boundaries. I don’t want to… I don’t want to pry about shit I have no business knowing, alright? It’s your life and even if we are friends, I don’t need to know everything.”

The relief is almost immediate. He thumbs the label of his beer.

“Ask anything. But I can’t promise I’ll be able to give you the answers.”

“And I’ll leave it at that,” you say sternly, propping your elbow up on the table and offering your pinky finger, “Until you want to talk about it. Promise.”

He crooks his pinky in yours, squeezing gently. You smile.

Sarah comes back with the food, and then Bucky offers his usual half-exhausted, half-amused smirk.

“You get three questions now. Then, we shut up and eat.”

You fold your hands neatly over themselves, eyeing your food as you try your best to sort out what questions come up with the most urgency. There’s… a lot. I mean, everyone knew about the Avengers — and everyone had their opinions. The Sokovia Accords, Lagos, the Blip… and SHIELD. Years of bullshit culminating around those who were considered the heroes. The kickback usually ended up on everyday citizens like you. After the initial amazement, the reality of it all set in.

But, to Bucky’s point, he wasn’t really an Avenger.

Nowadays, there really wasn’t a team at all. No up-state compound, no leader, no Stark and no Rogers.

You’re sure the GRC will try — that the military will try. Morale and hope and blah, blah, blah.

You narrow your eyes. “How old are you?”

It’s quick. “One hundred and six.”

“How’d they keep you alive that long?”

There’s a wince that flashes across his face like he’s been stabbed with a white hot poker in the ribs. You see a twitch of irritation bubble across his lips. Not with you. No, it’s that this question is still hard for him to answer. Bucky exhales sharply.

“Next question.”

You feel a pang of guilt flare in your chest. You move along.

“Who kept you alive that long?”

“The Russians. HYDRA, if you wanna get specific.”

You exhale and settle on the fact you now have more questions than answers. But, you nod and snatch up your chopsticks. Enough of the twenty questions game.

In all honesty, it’s not like Bucky’s existence was common knowledge. The Winter Soldier was known mostly, sure, to those who had floated in the same circles as him when he was nothing but a rabid cur on a choke chain. He can’t help but be a bit thankful for the minor erasure of his new self — sure, in the eyes of the U.S. government he was a high-level threat to be reintegrated as soon as possible and surveyed at all times. But, to the average New Yorker, he was just another person. Everyone was so used to seeing the heroes in their costumes with their bigger than life personas and…

Bucky was just Bucky.

Even he didn’t really know who that was. He was starting to.

His pardon had come with some flak from some of the more political news outlets but… somehow, the details of the Winter Soldier’s exact crimes were being kept silent. Probably to avoid panic. And, even then, the connection between the newly alive James Buchanan Barnes and The Winter Soldier hadn’t been made yet in the public eye. He was glad.

The haircut definitely helped.

It’s like he was a walking classified redaction.

Bucky has a sushi roll in his mouth when he finally speaks. “For such a Captain American fan, I’m surprised you didn’t recognize me.”

“Oh, you’re really not gonna let that go, huh?” you say as you chew, covering your mouth. You swallow and waggle your chopsticks at him, “Listen, it’s been a while since I’ve… y’know, had my Avengers phase. That was years ago. It was at its peak when I worked for SHIELD. And besides, you’re kinda new to the whole superhero scene.”

Bucky frowns. “You worked for SHIELD...?”

“For a year,” you say tightly, “Back before the collapse.”

“Only a year?”

“It was for my graduate program,” you wave it off, “I won out on the most competitive internship NYU had to offer. I was working within their cybersecurity division. I will say I spent more time trying to sort of email phishing scams than anything else, though. I’m sure they saw my record and wanted to keep me away from the juicy stuff.”

Bucky squints.

You offer a sheepish shrug.

“I got into trouble when I was younger,” you sip your drink and sigh, “I always liked computers. I used to spend all my time on forum sites just… reading and talking to people and figuring out how these sites actually worked, so learning how to write my own code was just the next step. When I was fifteen, I learned how to tap phones. At sixteen, I was hijacking my neighbor’s internet conenctions and remotely controlling his laptop.”

“Sounds like a good time.”

“Yea, well, he was a sitting Senator who was having an affair with the nanny,” you mutter, “And I was stupid enough to try and blackmail him for cash. I wish I could say I learned my lesson.”

Bucky exhales long and hard at that, like he knows where that snap of misguided judgement goes. It’s not like he’s passing judgement onto you, but… like he knows the feeling. And you manage to not feel so small, then — telling him this is easy. It’s not your favorite part of your life by any means, but Bucky is listening. Really listening.

He fiddles with the paper wrapper of the chopsticks.

“So, less a Goose and more a Kevin Poulsen type, huh?”

You snort. “For an old man, I’m surprised you know who that is. But, I wasn’t hacking into the Pentagon at seventeen. I was too busy doing community service.”

“HYDRA had their eyes on him in the 90s,” Bucky mumbles through a bite of spicy tuna, the memory popping into his mind and flying out before he can stop it, “I remember… I thought his username was stupid.”

“Oh, you didn’t like Dark Dante?”

“Like I said,” Bucky chortles, “Stupid.”

“You wouldn’t have liked mine, then,” you smirk lightly, “It’s worse.”

Bucky raises his brows, somehow doubting that entirely. “Really?”

“...I was hackrabb1t for a long time. Y’know, with a ‘one’ for the ‘i’,” you cringe, “People kept thinking I was a furry.”

There’s a pause. Bucky’s face is set in an unreadable emotion. It’s confusion mixed with amusement mixed with… something else. When he speaks, he clears his throat and tilts his head.

“It’s clever. But,” a pause, “What is a furry? I’ve been seeing that word all over PlentyOfFish.”

Your jaw flies open. You raise your hands as your head reels around. Bucky has a look on his face like he knows, he knows he shouldn’t have asked and he definitely shouldn’t have given you enough context to know where he’s seen that phrase before, because now you’re looking at him like he has seventeen heads and they’re all on fire.

“Y’know what, nevermind—”

“—Oh, no, no, there’s way too much to unpack here,” you lean forward, “You’re on PlentyOfFish?”

“ChristianMingle wasn’t really my speed — stop laughing.”

“Shut up — stop it, stop — this is too much,” you say with a high voice, “If you get catfished, I’m not helping you track the person down…”

“—What the hell is a catfish?” he nearly cries, raising both hands in a desperate shrug, “I don’t even know what any of these words mean.”

“Oh, you sweet, naive, innocent, man—”

“No, no, no, no,” he chirps, raising a finger with a deadly look of seriousness on his face, “No, I am not naive or sweet or any of the above. I’ll take ‘cute’, sure, but none a’ those.”

“Is that what the furries call you on PlentyOfFish? Cute?”

He drops his head back against the booth and stares at the ceiling.

“Our friendship was a mistake, rabbit.”

You choke out a laugh. “Shut up, you walking claw machine.”

You’re both laughing now — quieter but sustained and everytime you think you’ve calmed down enough to sip your Mai Tai, you just have to look at the distraught, scruffy man across from you to break into another fit of muffled laughter. Finally, after what feels like forever, you both manage to calm down enough to finish the plates in front of you.

There’s a warmth that’s settled in Bucky’s chest — it’s eaten away at the usual jitter in his legs, the anxious twitch of his fingers. It’s a different emotion. Acceptance, maybe. Comfort. Affection.  

Then, while you’re piling the last bit of sushi rice into your mouth when your phone, set on the side of the table, begins to go off. It hums erratically, dancing in a circle, and all you do is stare at the name flashing across the screen. You’re smiling, hugging her. It’s from Jaimie’s wedding — out in some big, wide open orchard with the sun setting behind you. The picture there is old; you were both different people then.

Before… everything.

MOM Morristown, NJ

You scowl and stare.

Bucky blinks.

“You gonna get that?”

Quickly, you snap out of it. You reach and silence the buzzing with two quick taps. Quietly, you offer up a somber sigh.

“I never do.”

Bucky frowns again, this time with a worried look that digs deep into his eyebrows. You ignore it on purpose, pushing your plate away and leaning back in the booth. He knows what you’re doing — you’re avoiding his gaze, and therefore his own questions.

“Rabbit.”

“Oh, is that my new nickname, then?”

“It fits,” he chirps before crossing his arms, strategically hiding his metallic hand, “What’s up?”

You grow quiet — then it spills out.

“I can’t talk to her.”

“Why?”

You chew your lip. You bite your tongue and you hold back on the finer points of your anger — ones dredged up by the still present sting of your check-in with Dr. Hart this afternoon.

Here it comes.

“As a part of my pardon, I was ordered no-contact with my family,” you exhale, controlling the level of your voice, reciting the court papers you’d read over and over and over, “It was deemed that further contact would impact my progress towards reformed behavior and judgment.”

Bucky’s eyes are wide. His jaw is tight.

“What the fuck do you mean ‘pardon’?”

It’s your turn to cross your arms now, to ignore the sting of his look. It’s the kind that screams disappointment more than anything. You hate that you’re getting it from Bucky of all people.

“Like I said, I didn’t learn my lesson when I was a kid,” you shirk, “Last year I was arrested on a number of counts — I’d been evading the FBI, CIA, all of them, for years. I was doing it all for people like me. The ones who got left behind.”

Bucky’s tone is flat. It’s serious. His next sentence is less of a question, more of an order. The cadence is rhythmic and it reminds you of your brother the night he found out about the first time you’d been arrested; you decide, then, that Jaimie and Bucky would have gotten along.

“What did you do?”

“Whatever I could,” you wave your hands, “Identity theft, falsified documents, insurance fraud. Anything. There were people, like me, that in a blink, lost everything. Accidents, deaths, evictions and no one did anything for us. The insurance agencies wouldn’t cover damages related to The Snap. Life insurance policies, social security… It all got snatched up by people at the top while the system collapsed around us. I had to pay for my brother’s funeral out of pocket. And there were hundreds of thousands of people just like me, just trying to get by. And everything failed us.”

Bucky is stuck in silence. It’s like mud, dragging him to the bottom of a pond — the sort that’s dredged with misery. In an instant, his veins are on fire with an anger he hadn’t felt in a while. It manifests itself in the tightening of his jaw. He rubs his face and props his elbows up on the table.

“Why won’t they let you see your family?”

You fiddle with your napkin.

“My brother… His wife was on maternity leave when she disappeared in the Blip,” you mutter, “She came back to no job, a dead husband, and no home. Their apartment complex had been abandoned. She’s trying her best to make ends meet. She lives with my Mom in our old home. Neither of them can find work. They… The court thought that I’d be influenced to do something if I was around them.”

“What, like help?”

“They see me as a criminal,” you manage, “But I’m useful, so they’re keeping me around.”

Silence falls between the two of you once more — and the sad look on your face makes Bucky’s chest tight. He can see anxiety beginning to spill over; you’re wringing the napkin, fiddling with the edges. Suddenly, Bucky realizes you’re feeling exactly how he was an hour or so ago.

Your voice is soft. “I’m sorry. I was going to tell you.”

“Looks like we’re two birds of a feather,” he says, knocking the toe of your sneaker with his boot, “Listen, we all do stupid shit. I’ve got a lot worse weighing me down. I get it.”

You look up, sadness glistening in your expression like sun off a lake. It’s harsh. He wants to look away.

He doesn’t.

“... So, that means you’re good with computers?”

                                                      ◦   ◦   ◦   ◦  

That’s how you find yourself in Bucky’s Brooklyn apartment at almost midnight, wandering behind him in the long halls and watching curiously as he digs his key from his pocket and shoulders the door open.

It’s a small apartment. One bed, one bath, a kitchenette and that’s really it.

For its size, it’s hardly lived in.

You suppose it makes sense — Bucky didn’t have a lot of personal belongings, and with the hints he’d dropped about his life before The Blip, you were beginning to understand that he may have never really had that much to begin with.

There’s a blanket on the floor by the television and a single couch pillow. It’s tucked in the corner, behind a small sofa. There’s a chair in the living room, one from an old dining set. At the kitchen counter, there’s a stack of papers and a single laptop. Even though all the kitchen’s wares are older models, the bones of the apartment are good. Bare, but good.

You stop in the doorway to the bedroom and stare at the untouched bed. The sheets are tucked tightly in the corners — there’s something militaristic about it. Across the hall is the bathroom. It’s small. You can see a few amenities scattered across the sink’s top.

Being in here feels something like an open wound.

It was lonely. Quiet. Cold.

“We need to make a trip to HomeGoods,” you mumble as Bucky flicks on the lights, “I get the whole minimalist thing, but sheesh.”

“I don’t have a lot,” he says, kicking off his boots by the door and shrugging off his jacket, “And I don’t need a lot either.”

You watch as his shoulders sag a bit, like he can finally let down his guard just a little in his own space. It’s endearing. You perch yourself up on the kitchen counter as your eyes follow him; he moves to fling open a cabinet and grabs a mug. Then, he hesitates.

“You want tea?” he asks over his shoulder.

“Tea?”

“Dr. Raynor said,” Bucky reaches for a container of tea bags from the top shelf. His henley lifts enough to flash a bit of skin along his lower back and you swear you see a scar, “It would help with my anxiety.”

You swing your legs a little. “Then sure.”

“You can use my Captain America mug,” he chirps, laughing a little to himself, “Seeing as you’re such a big fan…”

“God, I regret even saying anything to you,” you spit as you hop down and lean around him to get a look at the mug, “Did you seriously buy that?”

“It was a gift.”

“Bullshit.”

Bucky snorts as you shake your head and wander backwards, eyeing the rest of his apartment with a bit of astonishment. It’s really nothing impressive — but, you suppose it makes sense. Whatever meager disbursement that the government was willing to give Bucky for his efforts in fixing the Snap was better than nothing.

Your gaze hangs on the blanket in the corner.

He watches you; and he notes the sore sadness that dissolves your posture at the sight of the nest in the corner. A bit of shame colors his cheeks as he heats up the water. When Bucky speaks, it’s slow.

“The bed was too soft. I couldn’t sleep on it,” he shifts from foot to foot and focuses on taking the tea bags out and methodically wrapping the strings around the handles, “Dr. Raynor said that’s a typical thing for soldiers to experience when they come home from war.”

You’re quiet for a while after that, only speaking when he rounds the counter with your tea. He offers it up with a tilt of the head.

“You never got to come home, though, right?”

“No,” comes the short reply as you both watch the lights outside the window, “No, I didn’t. Not until now.”

You nudge his arm with yours. You lean a bit. Bucky leans back.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he manages after a sigh and sip of the tea, “I can’t just feel sorry for myself anymore. I’m trying to fix the wrongs I did — and that’s why I need your help.”

You quirk a brow. He reaches around you and grabs the stack of papers on the counter. With a steady grip, Bucky presents the photo of a woman who looks strikingly familiar. You can’t place her face, but there’s something about her that feels like a slap across the cheek. She’s young here, in a faded photo with tattered edges. Beside her is a man who is laughing. The photo is candid, and they’re both beautiful. They’re both  wearing a uniform — but you can’t place the era or location.

You turn to Bucky for answers.

“Back in the 70s, at the height of the Cold War, HYDRA was working in tandem with the Russians to spy on American forces,” he offers easily, staring out the window, “The American HYDRA cell hadn’t yet been planted. This man, Andrei Kuznetzov, was a spy. He was feeding the Americans information on the Russian nuclear program. His wife, the one in the photo, was ordered to kill him. She refused.”

Bucky’s fingers twitch.

His words are soaked through with pain.

“I,” he continues, “killed him.”

You hold your breath. Then you spare him a mournful look.

“Inessa Sidrova went on to help form the same HYDRA cell that ended up taking over SHIELD here in America,” Bucky mumbles, “She’s dangerous. There’s others like her, ones who I helped create, all over the world. But, she’s my top priority. I just haven’t had much luck tracking her down.”

“That’s why you need my help.”

“I’m 106 years old,” Bucky deadpans, “The microfiches at the library were getting a little tedious.”

“But,” you chirp with a sly smirk, “You figured out how to set up a PlentyOfFish account?”

He shoulders you again as you sip your tea and laugh.

“Shoulda never said anything,” Bucky grumbles, “Dr. Raynor thought it was a good idea. Y’know, to get back out in the world.”

“I can promise you,” you say with a stern shake of the head, “The metal arm will get you plenty of chicks and dudes in due time.”

“Good to know,” Bucky replies as his words lilt with a playful sort of questioning that you purposefully ignore. You’re not feeding his ego today. Maybe tomorrow, after you take a crack at figuring out where this woman is.

It’s going to be a long night.

[dweetwise]

[Riconti] Pudding out

Just a silly little thing I wrote bc I love domestic riconti <3 Rated G | 900 words | ao3 link

Ace stared at the colorful spinning wheels on the screen with single-minded focus.

The room was filled with the chiming music of the online casino, the laptop’s speakers occasionally crackling with the volume Ace had set the game to. He was hunched over in his seat and waiting with bated breath for his next win. 

There was a sad sound effect to signal no win and Ace barely even registered clicking the auto-spin button again. He only needed one more of those stupid diamonds, and then he'd get to activate the multiplier again—

Ace jumped as a hand shot out from behind him and a small item thudded onto the kitchen table in front of him.

"Oh, hey!" Ace greeted and immediately turned the volume down. "I didn't even hear you get home."

Probably because he'd been engrossed in this game for almost an hour. The obnoxious music had apparently been enough to mask the sound of Felix’s sedan pulling up in the driveway.

Felix grunted and turned back to the kitchen counter, plucking items out of a supermarket bag rather aggressively. Ace didn’t blame him; after a long day at the office, grocery shopping was far from anyone’s favorite way to spend their night off.

Ace went back to inspect the item Felix had dumped in front of him. It was a small plastic container and the side said salted caramel—ah, some kind of dessert.

"Aww, thanks!" Ace smiled at Felix's back and immediately grabbed the complementary little wooden spoon glued to the tin. He turned the package over—

Oh. It was a salted caramel protein pudding.

"Uh." Ace paused. "Are you sure this wasn't for you?"

Felix froze from unpacking the bags. When he turned to look at Ace, he was half-pouting, half-glaring. Ace racked his brain; it was a Wednesday, which was Felix's gym day. His hair was still damp so he must have showered after his workout, yet his mood was absolutely sour…

"I bought the wrong flavor," Felix said miserably. "A stupid clerk was standing in the yogurt section, and I tried to wait, but the store was crowded and I wanted to go home. But when I asked him to move, he gave me about ten centimeters of space, so I went to grab the chocolate flavor that I always get, but I couldn’t see properly because that asshole was still in the way. And when I realized I didn't get the right pudding he'd already gone back to hogging the whole fridge, and I was tired and sweaty and the frozen foods were melting and I didn't…"

Felix deflated after his little rant, his shoulders slumping as he looked at the floor with a frown.

"You didn't wanna bother him a second time?" Ace guessed. 

He scooped out a spoonful of the pudding, which, surprisingly, didn’t taste too bad. Then again, Ace wasn't usually picky about food—hence why Felix always dumped his unwanted veggies and other foods onto Ace's plate.

"I should have," Felix said. He glared at the offending pudding. "I hate salted caramel, but it's almost the same color as the chocolate one. What a stupid design choice—and who the hell organizes a shelf in the middle of the post-work rush hour? He wasn't even stocking it, just straightening the rows like some kind of…of protein-hating psychopath!"

Ace chuckled at Felix's fuming around another spoonful of artificial salted caramel. He knew from experience that there was little that got under the normally quiet architect’s skin like a disruption to his routines—no matter how minor.

"Well, I for one appreciate you braving the rush-hour supermarket and reaping the fruits of your little mishap. Though I've gotta say, I usually prefer my desserts with actual sugar," Ace said.

"I'm glad one of us finds it edible," Felix huffed.

"But from what I understand… You missed out on your post-workout snack, didn’t you?" Ace said, hazarding a guess at the root of the problem.

Felix frowned. "Yes. Because of that one—"

"Yes, yes, because of some minimum-wage sap who was unfortunate to come between you and your favorite pudding." Ace stood up, coming to stand before Felix and placing a hand on his chest. "Anyway, here's my proposal: you're clearly a little hangry, so why don't you leave the grocery unpacking to me, grab some Michelin-star spaghetti from the fridge—yes, that I cooked for my beautiful boyfriend to enjoy after his long day, hold your applause—and find something on TV that we can mercilessly roast together. Me and the fake-caramel-stevia monstrosity will join you later."

Some of the tension in Felix's posture eased and he even gave Ace a small smile. "That sounds incredible."

"That's because I am incredible, bonito." Ace winked. "Now move your gorgeous ass or I'll force-feed you some of that pudding."

Felix actually chuckled at that, and he briefly squeezed Ace's hand before obediently moving to the fridge and bravely plating out a generous portion of Ace's slightly burnt attempt at cooking.

And the next time Ace was shopping at their local grocery store, well, he may or may not have bought the store’s entire selection of chocolate protein puddings to avoid further snack-related incidents in the near future.

[badsongpetey]

Alrighty, I thought long and hard about what to do for Jimtober, my FIRST Jimtober mind you. I joined Tumblr almost exactly a year ago. I joined it to as a place to post art so I could link it to my ROTT fix fic on AO3. And I've said it before, but I did not expect the community and friends and everything I'd find when I stepped into the online fandom. SO, I decided that probably the best thing I could do for Jimtober was take my fic out of hiatus and start writing again. I missed it, it's time. Here's a preview, I hope to have the chapter posted by the end of the weekend :) Love you guys.

Chapt 19: Off To (Hopefully Not) See The Wizard

It didn’t take Jim long to formulate a plan. Okay, it wasn’t a great plan. If he was being truly honest, it wasn’t even a good plan. But desperation and panic make for powerful incentivizers, and Jim would take what he could get. As he laid awake in bed that night he tried and failed to ignore the fact that he’d come back in time to take control of events and guide them to a safe and happy resolution, and instead he’d found himself increasingly lost, flailing about, barely having time to react as the past spun inexorably out of his control. He exhaled audibly as stared up into a night that seemed far darker than it had been before.

——————— You know the look that parents can give you? You know — The Look. It’s way worse when it’s coming from three pairs of eyes.

“Master Jim,” Blinky intoned, “don’t you think it’s past time to, as you say, ‘come clean’ to your compatriots?”

“And what exactly would that accomplish Blinky?” Jim challenged.

Blinky scoffed, “You mean what would being honest and upfront with your closest friends and allies accomplish?? I assume you mean other than trust, strengthened bonds, and, oh, I don’t know, maybe being prepared with a decent plan?”

“I have a decent plan.” Jim huffed as Blinky fixed him with, if possible, an even more intense version of The Look.

Jim groaned and avoided Blinky’s gaze by staring at the carved stone ceiling. He didn’t need this right now, he was long past tired and Bular was out there doing god-knows-what as they stood here and argued about things he could not change.

They were in a small room off of Blinky’s library. The rest of the team was in the library proper, waiting for them. Jim had called them together to share the bad news he’d gotten from Strickler and set his “not great” plan into motion. But this plan involved Blinky, and Blinky was being characteristically difficult.

“Now, what I think would be best…” Blinky began.

“Blinky, please.” Jim interrupted and dragged his eyes down to level them with the blue troll. Blinky huffed out a short breath and crossed all of his arms.

“I know…” Jim said, then softer, “I… I know.” He felt all the annoyance drain from his body as it was replaced by the impossible heaviness of his task.

“I know I’ve asked you for so much, and, really given you so little… I know. But you know, I can’t tell you why I know what I know. God sometimes I wish I could! I wish I could just dump all of this…” Jim stopped before he devolved into despair. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders.

“Blinky, I’m not asking you to lie to them. I want to tell them everything I told you. Just instead of saying you heard it from me, we’re going to tell them you found it in your research.” Blinky snorted.

“They’ll have all the facts! Nothing would be different. I mean, that is, if you still trust me.” Jim looked up at Blinky with his best sad puppy eyes that he knew the troll was nearly helpless to resist.

The eye-roll he got back was epic. “I trust you Jim, I…” Blinky paused as he looked back at Jim. “I am singularly out of my depth here Master Jim. I was never a troll of action, my place has always been to observe, study, to be on the sidelines. What you shared with me, this knowledge you have, and everything that’s happened… It’s so, so… BIG. And I fear I am not of equivalent stature to undertake it.” He finished quietly.

Jim placed his hand on Blinky’s shoulder. “I can say for certain that you are.” He smiled. “And I can say for certain that we will not succeed without you. Without you being there, in the front, in the action.”

Blinky took a long breath. “For the life of me, I do not know why suddenly I’m listening to a welp younger than some of my toenails.” He smirked.

Jim let out a barking laugh. “That’s disgusting Blinky. Thank you though.”

Blinky clapped him on the back, causing Jim to stumble a bit. “Well, let us put this fiasco into motion then, shall we?”

[wiseoldowl72]

Suptober 2022 Day 1 - Maze

Finally I got my very first fiction in the Destiel/Supernatural fandom written and posted. It’s called The Blue Lady and lives on AO3, but I’m going to put it here too.

Suptober Day 1 - Maze

The Blue Lady

Dean and Cas are just chillin’ in their Kansas City Shirtwaist style home kitchen waiting on supper. Now that they’ve finally used their words and Dean has stopped the ever present voices from the past, he and Cas moved out of the bunker into one of Kansas City, Missouri’s southern neighborhoods. The three story home is a fixer-upper, but with good bones and built in the early 20th century. The new husbands are slowly making it their own, while still keeping their hands in the hunting community. It is definitely a boon to have an angel as a husband, mate, lover, and hunting partner.

Jack powered Cas up again after becoming God. Using the grace Dean already had, Jack gifted him with some qualities of an angel’s mate like a longer lifespan, the ability to be more sensitive to the different planes around him, faster healing, and Dean’s favorite, seeing his gorgeous husband’s massive wings anytime he wants. The couple choose to live a normal, mostly human, life knowing that when the time comes they will go to Heaven together reuniting with everyone at the Roadhouse until the end of time.

Sitting at the counter on his favorite stool Cas looks up from the laptop to tilt his head with that thoughtful look Dean loves so much. Seeing that something catches his love’s attention, Dean asks, “What did you find?”

Cas looks up, “I found some information on a salt and burn in a downtown historic hotel.” He lays out the story of the Marriott Muehlebach while Dean is cooking supper. Dean stands at the island chopping vegetables to make a stew since it is the beginning of fall and crisp evenings. Since his hands were occupied, Dean listens and occasionally looks over at Cas while he begins telling the facts and stories he’s found. Cas reads from several organizations, blogs, and online collections, “The original Muehlebach hotel was built in 1914-1915 over the destroyed remains of the original Kansas City First Baptist Church.” 

“Over a church, huh.” Dean retorts.

Cas raises his eyebrow at Dean and continues unrattled, “The Muehlebachs, who emigrated from Switzerland prior to 1859, made their money in the Beer and Brewery business, going back to 1868. The Muehlebach hotel was 12 stories and held 500 rooms. It was the jewel of hospitality and opulence in Kansas City’s crown until the late 1960s when it was sold several times over the decades.” 

As the stew goes on the stove to cook for several hours, Dean glances at Cas, who is completely absorbed by all the information he’s reading. Launching into another exposition, the angel conveys, “Starting in 1922 the hotel started broadcasting the first regular radio program that could eventually be heard nation-wide and overseas. It was the brainchild of Carleton Coon and Joe Sanders, two employees. They formed the Coon-Sanders Nighthawk Orchestra, eventually becoming a famous jazz band.”

Dean interrupts this history lesson asserting, “The members of that original Baptist church can’t be happy about their space being used by descendents of immigrants, making a fortune from beer, plus employees becoming famous musicians. Their prim and proper attitudes must be making them roll over in their graves or being our unhappy, not wanted guests.”

Cas, ever the professor type, drones on, “Only the best were hired to work at the hotel in public positions. It’s said that even the waiters could speak multiple languages.”

“So you’re telling me that the people who worked there were The Shit during the heyday of the hotel,” chimes in Dean. 

Cas rolls his eyes. “It was also called the White House of the West. Harry Truman worked out of the Presidential Suite,” continued Cas, expecting to keep telling the hotel’s unique story. 

“Let me see that,” Dean is very tired of listening to Cas do the research and turns the laptop toward him. “All these fucking facts and I still don’t understand  who our salt and burn is from this hoity-toity palace.” Dean scans the page, seeing all the black and white facts Cas was reading through, then his eyes landed on the words, “The Legend of the Blue Lady.” 

“Bingo!” hollered Dean as if he’d won the lottery. After all that droll, dry exposition he found the ghost and backstory in just a quick scan. “Ok Cas, you went on for over an hour, talking through dinner, washing the dishes, and cleaning up the kitchen. Why in the hell didn’t you just get to the point?” he asked, exasperated. 

“I was quite enjoying myself. I didn’t think you’d mind the facts before we got to the unsettled spirit,” Cas replies, quite pragmatically, again with the cute bird tilt of his head and furrowed brow because he truly doesn’t understand Dean’s frustration. Moving on, Dean starts to read the info they really need. This salt and burn is needed because the ghost is getting more agitated as the appearances continue.

“ ‘The Legend of the Blue Lady’ apparently has been around for decades,” Dean reads from the info relating to the Salt and Burn. “She appears as a blonde woman, 30ish, in a blue dress styled like that of the 1920s.”

“Another distinct feature is the wide-brimmed hat she wears with her hair tucked up in it.” Cas contributes, reading over Dean’s shoulder, “She is said to have stayed at the hotel from time to time. She was also thought to be an actress from the Gayety Theater that was next door in the early half of the century. It is suggested that she is searching the Muehlebach hotel and grounds for her lost love.”

“This is interesting,” Dean pokes at the screen, “in 1952 the Muehlebach hotel under the direction of its current manager, Barney Allis, expanded the hotel over the demolished Gayety theater.” 

“I hate romantic ghost stories. Something always goes sideways.” Dean complains after hearing what their simple salt and burn was turning into. “Do you have any other ideas or leads Cas?” 

Cas shakes his head, but then puts his finger to his lips and adds, “What if it’s not a lover our Blue Lady is looking for. What if she’s unhappy with the management of the hotel for expanding over her beloved theater?”

“Now that’s an interesting theory,” Dean holds his hands out in front of him as if he can’t decide between the two. Over the next several days the men research both options using whatever history on the Gayety and Muehlebach is available.

“Turns out the Meuhlebach is a complex now. It changed hands many times.” Dean says out into the ether.  “Wow, I’m done. We’ve spent days figuring out where the original hotel and first addition was exactly.” Dean was irritably complaining to Cas how long it was taking to look for this lady ghost, who may or may not have two reasons to make a fuss.

Now it was time to plan how to get into the oldest part of the hotel, deep inside a very large and very popular conference center. One thing they had to keep in mind was that the original hotel doors were kept locked. That little nugget figured heavily into the upcoming plans.

While Dean was looking into the hotel, Cas turned his focus to the Gayety Theater and who the Blue Lady could be. It was clear that after Barney Allis bought the Muehlebach in 1931, the hotel was run more like a military boot camp. 

“Did you know that Allis held surprise inspections for staff to ensure perfection,” Cas turns to Dean. “He was known to rip an offending garment off an elevator operator because a button was tarnished or the jacket was not pressed correctly.” Cas looks curiously at Dean and asks, “What is a ‘Napoleon Complex?’ Allis was accused of it many times.” 

Dean laughs, “Remember Zachy-Boy? That’s a Napoleon Complex, except he wasn’t short. I think Gabriel would be a better example when he was being a complete pain in the ass.” Now it was Dean’s turn to have a lightbulb moment, “What if Allis upset our actress with his douchey self and she lost her job?” 

Cas lifts his eyebrow and nods at his husband.

“Two city blocks,” Dean says.

They stand in front of the main hotel. Dean shakes his head, a little intimidated at the amount of ground to cover.

“Plus the maze of alleys between the different buildings,” he sighs. “If we can get into some of the old hallways and guest rooms in the original hotel, maybe we’ll find something to solve this little mystery.” 

“Dean, please tell me you have a plan to get from point A to point B?” Cas looks at his husband with the usual fear that he will ‘shoot first and ask questions later.’ Even being a powered up angel again didn’t stop Cas from worrying they would end up in the deep end of the pool without knowing it.

They load up Baby late in the day and before they got in the car Dean pushed Cas up against the gleaming metal and proceeded to kiss him deeply as a solid reminder they were in this together. Finally, they took their familiar positions, Dean driving and Cas riding shotgun.

Driving downtown in the evening, Dean absolutely doesn’t want anyone to ding Baby so they park at Barney Allis Plaza with plenty of space for the number one girl in the family. When they leave the Impala, and are finally up on ground level again Cas looks around at the fountains, greenery, park space and says mostly to himself, “This Barney Allis gentleman must have been good for the city if he has all this named after him.” 

“I even found a fact about Allis you might not know, Cas,” Dean smirks, “Allis said not to die in a hotel you own. He sold the Muehlebach property in 1962 and then died three months later on the sidewalk in front of the Aladdin Hotel, which is just there,” Dean points, “Across the street from this parking garage, park combo.”

Even after seeing the complex on the maps and photos, the Marriott properties are impressive. Cas and Dean pat their pockets, reassuring themselves that they had their trusty weapons for dealing with a ghost. 

Dean stands ramrod straight, his face taking on that “determined hunter” look.

“Remember Dean, we're supposed to fit in like we’re patrons.” Cas says gently.

“Duh Cas, I haven’t forgotten about that part of the plan.” Dean snaps, but relaxes. 

A little. 

Once past the lobby, Dean tries to figure out the maze they are working in. Once they get into the original hotel it will be more difficult to pose as guests. Thankfully there are sections available for banquets and conferences so they won’t look completely out of place.

“I feel like a mouse in a maze trying to figure out which hallway to go down or maneuvering to avoid staff.” Dean grumbles.

Calm as always, Cas recites, “This addition was put on property of the Gayety Theater. It was demolished in 1950 for the 1952 addition of the Muehlebach Towers. That building was torn down in 1996 to make the building we are in now.” 

Dean ignores Cas, needing to focus on the now. He doesn’t care that he is in a building built in 1996, long after the Blue Lady died, and all traces of anything from her time had been obliterated over the decades. He tries to give off a sense of confidence as they slowly start moving through the building. 

“I think we go around this way to get to the old Muehlebach.” Dean says, trying to sound more certain than he feels. It looks like a piece of cake to find the old hotel’s event spaces. The two walk slowly down seemingly endless hallways.

“Look Dean, I know this style of architecture. I remember watching buildings being built like this. It’s called Beau Arts and really appears opulent. We’re on the right path to the oldest part of the hotel.” Cas says happily. 

They descend a set of stairs and the past unfolds in front of them: mosaic floor, thick wooden counters, the glint of floral and geometric brass trimmings on every fixture. Cas thinks back to when these details were not revival styles, but the real thing. “I really enjoy interacting with humanity, rather than watching,” he mutters under breath.

“Cas look at that! The front desk still has the original room key holder. It didn’t look like much in the photos, but 500 room key slots is cool.” Dean turns in a slow circle, “I don’t think I’ve seen so much brass in one place. I don’t know architectural styles for shit, but this is really fuckin’ amazing.” Dean breathes to re-ground himself. “I’ve never seen anything like it in person. A big brass mailbox –”

“‘Letter box,” Cas corrects him. Dean ignores it.

“...a bronze water fountain with a natural design inside it that still works, and these mosaic floors,” Dean swings his arm in a broad gesture, “Make me feel like I’m in Rome or Greece.”

“You don’t need to know architecture to appreciate it, Dean. It seems we found where we are starting this labyrinthian hunt.” Cas says casually. “This is the old part of the hotel. We need to disappear into the non-public places.” Of course the Blue Lady might be out in the public today, but if they can find an area she likes to frequent so much the better. 

“Cas, can you feel her at all? Any left over impressions?” Dean asks, hoping to get a better read on the place.

“None, There has been so much activity in this block that actually I’m feeling quite overwhelmed by the sensations.” Cas replies. Dean hangs his head. He was really hoping Cas could help out here. Who knew that angel senses could get lost in ethereal static leftovers?

“Alrighty then, up we go. As much as I want to stay in the public places, she’s not going to be here. Start looking for the stairs, sweetheart,” Dean calls over his shoulder walking away. “We have 500 rooms and hallways to walk through, staircases to climb.” Dean scoffs, “Hamster…maze…again.”

“Dean, you are not a hamster, beloved, maybe a squirrel or guinea pig. Guinea pigs are cute and smart.”

“Fuck you, Cas.” Dean laughs heartily. “Start walking you freakin’ angel.” 

At the end of the hallway Cas sees a door with a rusted sign that says 

Stairs

“Stairs,” he supplies helpfully

“Oh joy, and only 12 stories to check.” Dean says in his hunter voice.

Four hours of searching later, Dean leads the way down the fifth floor hallway, his eyes pausing on every door. The room numbers are tarnished but still legible.

“They completely emptied this place out,” Dean muses. “Didn’t even leave the light fixtures.”

Dean stops suddenly. “Babe, come here.”

“512,” Cas reads. “I am feeling a sense of unease. It is a female, but I’m not sure if the energy is anger though.” Cocking his head, Cas continues, “I feel that it’s more of a sense of longing and frustration.” He puts his hand on the door, fingers spread. “Definitely something in this room.”

“Fuckin’ A, let’s get in there and see what we find.” Dean remarks with more emotion than since they started working the maze of floors and hallways. “All the furnishings are gone, wires hanging off the walls. Let’s see if it is holding any secrets.” Dean looks at Cas and begins his search. 

Cas catches a glimpse of blue in the detritus left in a corner. “Hey beloved, look over here,” Cas carefully picks up the fabric and closes his eyes. After a moment of concentration, he says, “It’s her’s. Our Blue Lady stayed in this room at least once and left a part of her clothing behind.” The fabric is torn and very old.

“Okay pragmatic one, let’s assume you’re right, we got our location. Odd though we still haven’t seen any manifestation of our girl.” 

Dean takes the cloth delicately. As if conjured by the material a soft, plaintive sob is heard. “Great, I had to go and say something, Moaning Myrtle is in the house.” Dean sighs.

“I don’t get a vengeful feeling from our ghost. I feel she’s tired. She took out her anger decades ago, but now can’t rest.” Cas says, zeroing in on the emotions in the room.

“I guess those angel senses are finally switching on,” says Dean sarcastically. “I’m glad this isn’t a physical hunt so far, except for a lot of walking. I’m not as young as I used to be.” His knees crack as he kneels down to examine something. Still not understanding how humans perceive time, Cas gazes at his husband, trying to see the differences from just a few years.

“Hey, look down here. What is this, something paper?” Dean grabs Cas’ attention. He slips the tip of his knife behind the top edge of the baseboard and pulls, revealing a photograph. Cas reaches in quickly and retrieves it.

“Beloved, I think you found our Blue Lady.” Cas turns it and reads text on the back. “This was taken by Orval Hixon, one of the most prominent photographers of performers in the early part of the 20th century in Kansas City.” Cas says. Dean glances down at the floor with a twinkle in his eye remembering that his angel can’t not infuse his speech with facts. One of the many reasons he’s glad he got his head out of his ass and allows himself to love the man fully and completely.

Dean looks at the photo with the decorative paperboard frame protecting the edges of the original photo adhered to a stiff backing. “Cas, you did most of the research on the Gayety Theater and the Blue Lady, does this look anything like her from the descriptions you read.” Dean asks. “I mean, every color looks gray, so…”

“Actually yes. Look close at the pattern on her dress, it’s the same as on the cloth I found. Here’s what we know: the woman in this photo has light hair like in the stories, she’s holding a wide brimmed hat, and she’s dressed like the 1920s. It all matches.”

Cas frowns. “Does she look pleased or happy to you, beloved?” Cas has to admit to himself he really doesn’t have a good grip of normal facial cues. 

“She does look pleasant,” Dean murmurs as he turns the photograph over and reads for himself. The penciled letters are faint and barely legible. “Score! Our girl is named Minnie Lantry and it is a publicity photo. I can’t read the rest…” 

With his angel’s eyes, Cas reads, “Minnie Lantry. Actress, Dancer, Singer. Currently employed at the Gayety Theater. 1926 taken by Orval Hixton.” In a different and more delicate hand is written, “This is my favorite blue dress and hat. I hope this gets me even more jobs.” Cas turns the photograph to examine it at different angles. “There isn’t any other identifying information.”

The plaintive voice changes as Cas reads, sounding calmer, no longer moaning. It’s as if a precious item was found. 

“So many of the theaters were destroyed in the name of profits and business. I can see why Minnie was upset and frustrated with people like Barney Allis for tearing down the entertainment establishments.” Cas looks into Dean’s face. “I’m convinced that it wasn't a lover that the Blue Lady is searching for.”

Dean nods. “The facts are pointing to our douche with the Small Man Complex as the one who caused Minnie’s sorrow and frustration. Both emotions are extremely powerful and could keep a soul here on earth.” He turns toward the door, relieved to be leaving. 

“Okay we have all we need from here. Now it’s time to figure out where Miss Minnie is buried so we can burn her bones and give her rest.”

Cas stops him, saying, “Love, please give me the cloth and the photograph. I need to put them in an appropriately warded container so we aren’t taking any chances with possible cursed objects while we research where Ms. Lantry is buried.” Dean nods and hands over the objects.

Back in the lobby, Dean expresses his amazement with the wealth built into the hotel. “I still can’t get over the amount of marble and brass they used. Even the drinking fountains were solid brass.” Light from above draws Dean’s attention to the intricate chandeliers that make the fixtures in his home look so small.

“It’s quite unique that this original hotel was built in just one year, for 2 million dollars and without electricity, or other modern conveniences.” Cas asserts calmly, putting a hand on Dean’s left shoulder. “You needn’t run. Act casual”

“The faster we are driving home the happier I’ll be,” Dean grouses.

For the next couple of days Cas enjoys himself looking into the historic cemeteries in Kansas City. 

“Dean, I’ve found her. Minnie Lantry is buried in Elmwood Cemetery. I have a general idea where she is. When do you want to salt and burn her and the photo and cloth?” 

“How about tomorrow since it’s a weekday and we probably won’t run into anyone.” Dean replies, looking at the laptop over Cas’ shoulder. “How do we get there?”

“East on…” Cas traces with his finger, “Truman Road. Right there.”

Late the next night, Dean parks Baby on a side street across from the cemetery gates.

“Locked.” Cas needlessly informs Dean.

 “Uh-huh. Guess it’s over the fence,” Dean sighs to Cas, “I wish you could still fly us places, I really don’t like wrought iron fences with pointy bits on top.”

Dean checks his inventory of tools: shovel, salt, gasoline, warded container, flashlights, matches, and the two climb the fence.

Looking at a pencil sketch of the roads, Cas points a direction and they begin walking.

“Beloved,” Cas begins, “did you know that this cemetery is the second oldest in the city, founded in 1872. Many notable Kansas Citians are buried here, including –”

Dean interrupts the monologue before Cas can get a good head of steam. “Babe, I know you love facts, but I want to find Minnie. I’m chilly, carrying fifty pounds or so of office supplies, not sure how far I’m walking tonight and I want to get this burn over with. From what I remember of the map online, these graves are packed in here.” 

They pause at an intersection. Cas apologizes,” I tried to narrow down where Minnie was in this forty-three acre cemetery. I think you would refer to this as a ‘Find-a-Grave Fail’ since I couldn’t find the specific place.” 

“A lot of walking,” Dean shrugs. “What’re you gonna do?”

After a while, Cas begins to lag behind. There are presences clamoring for his attention. 

“These mausoleums are The Shit,” Dean says loudly, regaining Cas’ attention. “Hey Cas, I found Waldo!” Dean laughs, pointing at a carved name.

Cas catches up, chuckling at the Waldo reference, having enough children’s books that he gets this joke, at least. “Dean, this cemetery is very unsettled. So many souls are not at rest.”

“We can’t salt and burn the entire place. Come on, let’s check this first place you marked.” Dean rejoins. “At least we’re walking a road and not a hillside filled with mole-holes.”

They walk in silence for a while, each noticing in his own way the differences between memorials. “There’s a huge, ornate mausoleum,” Cas says, then points to a shape barely visible in the dark, “And that’s just a rock with a name. It fascinates me how you humans obsess about permanence in so many different ways.”

“It’s all about the money, for all the good it does them after they’re just bones.”

Cass stops and says, “We’re here. First one.”

“Good, I was about to ask you ‘how much longer’ “ Dean replies tiredly. “I’m just not in fighting shape anymore since we don’t hunt as much.” After another quarter mile Dean says surprised, “Do you see the building built into the hillside and the tall, old maple tree?” 

“That’s how I marked this area for Minnie. It’s an older spot in the cemetery with graves from the late 19th Century up through the time frame we’re looking for. The main landmark I focused on is the sandstone building. Being built into the hillside like that, and its size, it’s very possible this could have been a temporary internment vault when the weather was too inclement to bury someone.” Cas affirms.

It is Dean’s turn to be thoughtful. Gratefully, he puts down the supplies and considers the building. “Interesting idea Cas. It’s entirely stone built into the hillside. With all the arches sealed up, do you think it’s used at all anymore?” Dean considers. “You’ve got iron gates padlocked shut over plywood doors there,” he points. “Shed doors there. The others are just filled up with stones. Looks like someone has found their way in,” Dean murmurs, pointing at a person-sized hole in one arch corner. He would love to go exploring there himself, but not tonight. He’s got a shit ton of work left to do tonight and he doesn’t even know if he’s in the right place. 

“Dean, come here now!” Cas commands, standing next to the maple tree. “I found her. ‘Millie Lantry’,” he reads, “Born 1900. Give me the shovel.”

No one outside the cemetery hears the sound of the gasoline catching, or sees the fire. The flames do not leap into the air. They flow around the grave and rise slowly, not the conflagration Dean and Cas are used to, but a rising warmth. 

Cas sees a figure in the light. Blond haired, wearing a blue dress and wide brimmed hat…

And a smile. 

Cas watches her fade. “It’s done,” he says. “She can rest now.”

By the time the dirt is replaced into the grave, Millie Lantry is at peace. “Cas, I’m going to rest over here by the maple tree for a few minutes. Do you mind getting the rest of our various shit together for the walk back?”

“You’re whining,” Cas says fondly.

“Don’t care. I need a few minutes.”

After a while the hunter stands up, pulling himself back together. “That angel strength comes in handy when heavy labor is needed. Thank you sweetheart for your help.”

Dean wipes his jeans to get the dust, dew, and other accumulations off his hands and forearms. “I did think that stone next to Millie’s just laying in the ground with the willow tree on it was pretty. Marble you think?”

Cas remains patiently silent. 

“Okay, let’s get out of here, Babe.”

They decide to take the rest of the loop back to the front gates. Since they aren’t carrying as much weight this time they look at the names on the stones as they walk. “Hey, there’s a Muehlebach over there.” Dean calls out to Cas, who is looking on the other side of the road.

“Oh yes, George E. Muehlebach, Jr’s youngest brother, wife and her parents are buried in that plot. Carl Muehlebach was the President and Chairman of the Muehlebach Estate Company when he died in 1946. He lived in the Muehlebach Hotel.” Cas recites. The Patriarch of the family, along with other Meuhlebachs are buried in Calvary Cemetery closer to where we live.”

Even after all these years, Dean is still astounded how Cas just looks at a page once and memorizes everything on it. 

“Interestly enough,” Cas continues, “Barney Allis has the most unique of them all. He emigrated from Poland and is buried in the second oldest Jewish Cemetery in Kansas City named Sheffield. It’s so much smaller than this one. It only has 5,500 graves. It is made up of several different Congregations that merged in the early part of the 20th century. His given name also meant Bear in Hebrew according to his gravestone.”

“Ok, I’ll give you that one. Ha! The douche with Small Man Complex was by birth a scary dude. No wonder Millie had that resigned feeling as well. The Gentile cemetery could learn a lot from the Jewish cemeteries.” Dean agrees. 

Their conversation takes them all the way back to the front gates. “Time to get out of here. Do you want to go home or…Town Topic is open all night. Burgers?” Dean absolutely knows Cas would never say no to a cheeseburger from a greasy diner, and of course, they also serve pie.

A few days later Dean walks into the bedroom with just a towel around his waist, scratching at his forearms and his hands. He’s just taken a scalding hot shower trying to figure out why he has a rash and is so red. “Hey sweetheart, can you come here for a minute?” Dean says. “I feel like I have fire ants on and under my skin.”

Cas takes one look at him and grabs the smartphone, “Beloved, I do believe you’ve been exposed to something that poisons the body. Let me take a picture and then do a reverse image search.” 

Dean scowls while all this is going on. “Things have been going so well. The Blue Lady had her name rediscovered and Ms. Minnie Lantry is at peace. And who in their right mind turns down Town Topic? The hunt went well. I mean, mostly” Dean just grumbles to the room in general.

“Aha,” Cas says mournfully, putting down the phone. “Oh Dean, remember when we were doing the salt and burn? All those leaves on the maple tree and on the vines around it were actually Poison Ivy. Oh beloved.” Cas looks apologetic as he relays the information he found. “I even brought home a handful of them. They were pretty.”

“Son of a Bitch. Fuckin’ Hell, Poison Ivy.” Dean says angrily. He sits on the edge of the bed, scratching.

[apocalypticgargoyle]

𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 𝟒. ♡ 𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝

"Hi! I hope u have a lovely day :] I was wondering if I could request an imagine where you're online friends with Gogy and one day you send him a picture wearing his merch and he can't stop thinking about it and finally ends up telling you he has a crush on you?? Thank you in advance :] I really enjoy your writing"

pairing: georgenotfound x reader

warnings: Zoom Video Communications none :)

links: | ao3 | request | masterlist |

⋆ song recommendation: Slowly by Josh Gilligan

(streamer bf gogy brainrot brrr) hello sweet anon! thank you for much for this request :) I love love love all the geo simps and their ideas. also thank you to my dearest LB for helping me with the plot help. happy reading, everyone! ♡ ᵍᵉⁿᵉ

You tapped your fingers on your desk, nails clattering at you waiting to be let into your third Zoom meeting of the day. Usually, you got off with only one lecture, but because of upcoming exams, you were finding yourself in and out of virtual meetings and office hours. Sure, it was better than jogging from building to building, fighting the crowds, and searching for a seat in a packed lecture hall, but it was still wearing you down beyond belief.

You rested your chin in your hand as your window went from white to dark grey, the square with your name getting wedged in beside the professor. Everyone’s cameras were off, a thankful sigh leaving your lips as your head slumped down to lay against your arm, the danger of falling asleep suddenly becoming more prominent.

You jumped slightly as your professor cleared their throat, sharing their screen and beginning to ramble off facts listed on the slideshow. You played with your keyboard, focused on removing a crumb from beneath your spacebar that was almost unreachable. You usually took notes in the class, but today was just one of those days.

“... And with that in mind, I’m going to put you all into breakout rooms…” Your professor trailed off, eyebrows furrowed as they peered at their screen and clicked frantically to assign all of you to rooms. You yawned, smacking your cheeks and sitting up. You were determined not to be a shitty partner, at least. The white box popped up, inviting you to join breakout room four. That’s always lucky, you thought to yourself as you joined.

Once again, you were cursed to look at the buffering wheel of death as your internet struggled to sustain all your opened tabs. Please, just a little longer, you groaned internally, eyes dashing towards the receiver and exhaling in relief as your computer connected to the breakout room. You turned on your camera, eliciting your partner, George, to do the same.

You flashed him a smile as you struggled to open the article from the previous night. “Hi! How’s it going?” You greeted, not yet looking at him.

“I’m good, actually. How are you?” He engaged, his voice deep and tired.

You finally managed to split your screen enough so that you could see him and the article. “Yeah, I’m good too. Thanks,” you chewed the inside of your cheek, eyes skimming some of the notes you’d etched into the margins. “So, did you have any idea what,” you paused, squinting at the author’s name, “Robert A. Schneider means when he discusses how ‘men of letters’ fear the lower class more than anything?” You asked, as your eyes trailed across your screen to finally gauge his reaction, you were taken aback by his appearance.

His soft features and dark eyes made you feel safe. As he smiled softly, running his fingers into his hair, he seemed to be racking his brain for an answer. He opened his mouth to begin, detailing what you had previously thought with better articulation.

The two of you got through the basic questions the professor had scripted for the students, then finding yourself still stuck in the breakout room. On a normal day, your professor would have pulled everyone back into the call after the first few questions.

George swiveled in his chair quietly as he listened to you briefly explain your area of study. His kind smile made your heart flutter slightly. Deep down, you hoped the two of you would be stuck in the room for a while.

Soon your topics blended into what kind of movies you both watched, a debate on where you could buy the cheapest bread on campus, and what kind of party people the two of you were. After an hour, instead of worrying whether or not your professor was dead, you were swapping numbers and planning out how the two of you would turn the Florida Keys into the headquarters of your new cult where the members would all worship a separate bitchy philosopher.

You pulled one of your legs to your chest, resting your cheek against your knee as his laughing died out. “Okay, this might be a weird question, but I need to know why your webcam is so clear. Is it like an OnlyFans thing or…”

He chuckled. “Yeah it’s definitely OnlyFans,” he joked, making you laugh. “I’m actually a ᵐⁱⁿᵉᶜʳᵃᶠᵗ ˢᵗʳᵉᵃᵐᵉʳ” he mumbled.

Your eyebrows perked playfully. “You’re a what?”

He pursed his lips to fit the grin stretching across his face. “ᵃ ᵐⁱⁿᵉᶜʳᵃᶠᵗ ˢᵗʳᵉᵃᵐᵉʳ”

You snorted slightly. “Sorry darling, you’ll have to speak up. What was that?”

He wet his lips, rolling his eyes as he bashfully groaned. “I’m a Minecraft streamer.”

You giggled, him basking in your disbelief. He smiled a bit brighter as he shrugged, leaning back in his chair as you rambled off questions. “There’s no way! Nerd!” you chaffed, making him smile as if he liked it when you playfully teased him. “Are you super popular?” You asked, catching your breath.

He bit his bottom lip swaying his head slightly as if deciding not to answer. “Mmmm. Not really.”

“Well, come on, Georgios! Give me your Twitch user and I’ll be your biggest fan, I promise.” He laughed at your response, digging out his phone to send you a link.

“I’d like to see you try,” he mumbled.

After the class had finally ended, you’d learned that your professor was on the phone with their credit card company. In the following weeks, you and George were in constant contact, even becoming part of each other’s daily routines.

As you studied for finals, you’d turn on his stream, letting his voice alleviate some of the stress of your exams. He knew you were watching and would even drop hints for you in what he was saying, or he’d blatantly just ask what you were talking about in your essay for a certain class. After the stream would end, he’d call you either on Discord or the phone, just so it felt like the two of you were studying together.

Jokingly, you badgered him to send you some of his merch, threatening to buy it from a bootleg online store if he didn’t. He had only brushed it off at the time, but shortly after, you received a hoodie in the mail with his gamer tag printed across it.

It was late at night when you’d received it, the tiredness of your eyes and George’s dulcet tones lulling you towards the idea of a dead sleep. Yet, you were drawn from your pleasant relaxation with the shrilling of your doorbell. You shrugged out of your blanket cocoon, grabbing your phone and trudging down the stairs. As you tore open the bag, your phone buzzed with a text from George asking if you’d seen something that one of his chat members. You chuckled softly and dug your hand into the material, holding it out in front of you.

You snickered to yourself, running your fingers across the red patch in the center. You slipped it over your head, letting the softness of the fabric brush against your skin. You snapped a photo of yourself and stumbled back upstairs before sending it to him.

When you returned, George was focused on something he was crafting. His eyes darted down to one corner of the screen where his phone was probably sitting. His eyes flashed back up with a smug grin on his face as if he knew exactly what you were going to say. Your “Thanks sugar daddy xx,” probably didn’t help either.

“What, chat?” His voice came out slightly uneven as he bit back a smile. You skimmed what people were asking. “It’s not a nude. A friend of mine got something I sent them,” he answered nonchalantly, finishing up what he was doing. The chat began to spam quietly. “No, it’s not a maid costume. Jesus Christ.” He leaned back in his chair, grabbing his phone and opening your message.

A grin spread across his face, alongside the light dusting of rosy pigment settling in his cheeks. He chuckled to himself, quickly replying before getting back to his game. You scoffed at his response.

George (H325) Anything for my silly little baka

You curled up again, putting away your schoolwork and devoting your attention to watching his stream as you drifted off to sleep.

Once again, you found yourself at the mercy of your internet as you attempted to join the breakout room assigned to you. You almost jumped out of your chair when it finally connected and you found George waiting for you. You smiled slightly as he scrolled through his phone. “What are the chances?” You asked, pulling his eyes to you.

He grinned, clicking off whatever he was looking at. “I was just about to raid your inbox.”

You chuckled. “I almost wore your merch to class, just to out you to whoever my partner was,” you joked, making him roll his eyes.

“I’m glad it’s me then,” he responded. You began scrounging around for your article. After a beat of hesitation, George spoke up again. “Hey, I’m glad you like the sweatshirt…” You perked an eyebrow in his direction. “I actually haven’t been able to get that picture out of my head. I know it’s stupid,” he stated lightly, chuckling nervously. You could feel your heart beating in your ears. “It’s so lame, but I think I have a crush on you.”

You sat back in your chair, stunned. “I mean, the feeling’s mutual. Even if it’s lame,” you mirrored, winking at him. “I mean, maybe it’s not lame because I know I like you.”

He smiled to himself at your answer before chuckling, “Should we Zoom date or something?”

[pftones3482]

One of the commissions I'm doing for @randomfandomfan ft Hurt/Comfort Adrinino. Find it on my AO3 here.

Set post Rocketear and pre any kind of romantic relationship (tho it's hinted at). This was already a fic I wanted to write, and one of the prompts they sent me fit the concept almost perfectly, so I ran with it.

Under a cut for length.

~~

“It’s your fault.”

Nino jumped about a foot in the air, whirling from where he’d been shutting his door with his phone pointed menacingly at the source of the voice. His backpack smacked him in the hip, knocking him off kilter, and he stumbled, bracing himself on the doorknob. His eyes scanned the room slowly, shoulders easing when he didn’t spot anyone. “Hello?”

“What are you, dense, kid?” scoffed the voice again, from right in front of him, and Nino squeaked at an embarrassing pitch when he registered the Kwami floating there.

The Kwami.

The Kwami.

A black cat Kwami.

Nino dropped his defensive (if somewhat undignified) stance, staring at what was definitely Chat Noir’s Kwami. “Um. You’re not supposed to be here.”

The cat’s eerily green eyes rolled. “Wow. Intelligent.”

Nino spluttered, feeling awkward. “W-Well I’m sorry, dude, how do you expect me to react!” he demanded, throwing his hands up in the air. Something like ice settled in his gut as the Kwami’s existence finally clicked. “W-Wait, why are you here? What happened?”

“You happened,” the Kwami snapped, and uh. Okay. Not what Nino wanted to hear right now.

“What?”

“YOU. Do you have any idea how much you upset him? How much you hurt him the other day? He won’t say it, Nino, but he’s hurting. He’s been hurting, and you unloaded on him and beat him and told him how awful he was and if you weren’t his best friend and I didn’t think you were the only one who could help right now, you’d be in a pile of rubble.”

Um.

Holy shit.

Nino had never heard a Kwami so pissed. Wayzz could get a little condescending sometimes, and Ladybug had admitted that her Kwami could be a little snarky (as could Trixx, as Alya had confirmed time and time again). But never had he seen a Kwami literally shaking in rage.

He’d be more terrified if the cat’s words weren’t sinking in.

“Hang on, hang on, dude,” Nino said, crossing his arms in an “x” through the air. “Is this about Rocketear? I apologized, I-I thought me and Chat were okay. Also like, I respect the guy, but he has no idea who I am, dude, we’re not best friends.”

“Had,” the cat spit out. “He had no idea who you were.”

Nino’s stomach swooped out from under him and he gripped his desk chair tightly to keep from tripping. “What?”

The Kwami gave him a smug, if not irritated, smile. “You told him yourself.”

“D-During…when I was fighting him?” Nino squeaked. “N-No, I saw the footage, I didn’t tell him I’m Carapace!”

The cat softened. “Before, Nino. Before you were akumatized.”

“I didn’t-”

“Of course, when Ladybug appears, he throws himself to her feet with roses and love confessions!”

Fuck.

“But he is always rejected, because Ladybug thinks that he’s annoying. And she is COMPLETELY right!”

Oh, fuck.

“I know because I’m also a superhero. I’m Carapace.”

“Shit.”

Nino fumbled for his desk chair, sinking into it hard and banging his elbow on the back. The pain was almost numbing. He put his head in his hand, pushing his hat back off his head and staring blankly at the wall.

“Oh my god, dude, I-?”

“Yeah.”

The Kwami sounded almost sad this time, and that, somehow, was worse than him threatening to kill Nino.

He didn’t really remember being akumatized, until the end, when Alya broke him from Shadowmoth’s hold. And despite warnings from his friends, he’d watched the footage from his akumatization. Even without Alya recording, someone usually was, and the footage was always online by the end of the day.

He knew what he’d done to Chat Noir.

He’d seen the way he dropped his baton, a sign of surrender. The way Rocketear hadn’t hesitated to push him back with everything he had, pounding him again and again and again into that van, how he’d grabbed him by the head and slammed him backwards like-

“Nino!”

The Kwami’s paw was gentle on his wrist and Nino shuddered, scrubbing at his eyes furiously and dislodging his glasses. “Oh my god, oh my god, where is he?” he choked out. “I-I need to find him right now, Kwami dude, I-I can’t believe I-”

“Plagg,” the Kwami offered, his scratchy voice easing Nino from his panic. “And it wasn’t you, kid.”

“B-But it was, that’s the worst part,” Nino whispered, standing and pacing now. “I hated him, I hated him so much I – oh my god, he tried to tell me.” He laughed, bitter, holding his hands together behind his head. “He tried to tell me Alya and Chat didn’t have a thing and I-”

“Nino,” Plagg interrupted. “He’s on the roof.”

Nino stopped, blinked at him. “He’s what.”

Plagg nodded upwards, his antenna bobbing. “On the roof. Been there every night for the last week.” His voice lowered. “He wanted to talk to you, but he’s too scared.”

“He’s on the…he’s on my roof?”

Nino scrambled around his room, grabbing a jacket and an extra hoodie before reaching out, snatching Plagg, and shoving him into his hat. He froze a millisecond later. “Um. Please don’t cataclysm me for that, dude.”

Plagg’s chuckle was more like a purr. “Please. As if I’d need to use all that on just you.”

Nino supposed he should be insulted, but with everything he now knew, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. It was nearly one am – he’d been out late studying with Alya – so now he crept from his room and to the front door, hopeful not to wake his family. Grabbed his key off the hook by the entrance, and then eased the apartment door shut behind him.

It was only one flight up to the roof access, usually locked, but Nino had come up here with Alya more times than he could count, so he knew that if you wiggled the lock just right, it would come undone on it’s own. They’d oiled the hinges ages ago so that it didn’t scream every time it was opened, and now it was silent as Nino pushed it up and stared over the flat top.

Adrien was silhouetted in the moonlight, precariously close to the edge, and it made Nino’s breath hitch. He pushed the door all the way open and clambered up onto the roof as quietly as possible, easing the hatch shut again before turning back to his best friend and slumping.

Best friend.

God, how could he have-?

“You didn’t know,” Plagg whispered, gentler than Nino had expected him to be. The Kwami zipped from his hat, hovering in the air next to him, and he offered Nino a grim smile. “I might hate you a little right now for what you did to him, but you didn’t know, kid.”

Nino let out a shaky breath and started the trek over to his friend, fiddling with his extra sweatshirt. The night air was chill, and he was glad he’d brought it – Adrien was in nothing but short sleeves.

“All week, huh?” he murmured, watching as Adrien jumped a little, fingers tightening on the edge of the roof. “Could’ve just called, dude.”

Adrien twisted, lips parting. “How did you know I was-?”

His eyes landed on Plagg and a squeak slipped from his mouth as his hand shot to his shirt pocket. It wouldn’t have been funny if he hadn’t gone so pale.

So Plagg hadn’t told him he was telling Nino. Interesting.

“Y-You can’t-! You told-?”

“You’ve been here all week, Adrien,” Plagg snapped. “You weren’t gonna tell him, I was. You need a cheese in your corner.”

Nino had no idea what that meant, but he couldn’t stop staring long enough to care.

Adrien’s eyes were tired. There was no glint in them. The circles under his eyes were deep – he must’ve been wearing makeup to school, because Nino hadn’t seen them until now. His hands were trembling, his lips were bitten raw, and Nino felt his entire heart shatter.

“I am…so sorry,” he choked out, tears spilling over. Adrien jolted, turning his gaze from Plagg to him.

“Nino-”

“No, dude, no, I-I-I…I don’t care that I didn’t know. I should never have said those things, I should never have hurt you like that, oh my god dude, I hurt you so bad, I like could have killed you, a-a-and…”

He froze, reeling, and stumbled back. Adrien got to his feet warily, holding his hands up. “Nino?”

“You were gonna let me.”

He wanted it disproved, but Adrien’s flinch told him everything. His chest seized and Nino choked on his breath. “You were gonna let me, you would’ve fucking let me, you fucking asshole how could you? Do you have any fucking idea how much I care about you dude?”

He shoved Adrien without thinking, hands firm against his shoulders, pushing him back and away from the edge. Adrien’s eyes were wide, lip trembling, and Nino pushed him again, closer to the center of the roof, this time forcing the sweatshirt into his grasp. Adrien clung to it, lips parted, and Nino dragged his hands through his hair, pacing as Adrien shrugged the sweatshirt on. He’d left his hat downstairs, he registered somewhere in the back of his mind.

“Oh my god,” he choked out. “I-I…I’m so sorry dude. I’m so sorry, your dad, and then school, and modelling and your stupid model diet and then you’re a literal superhero and I’m supposed to be your best friend and I didn’t even…”

“You weren’t saying them about me,” Adrien whispered. “I know that.”

Nino spun to face him, vision blurry. “If you knew that you wouldn’t have been on my roof every night for the last week working up the nerve to talk to me. If you knew that you wouldn’t have thrown down your weapon and let me beat you to-”

He cut himself off with choked cry and he rushed at Adrien, clinging to him with a force he didn’t know he possessed. He cradled his friend’s head gently, heart sinking for a moment until he felt Adrien’s hands lift to settle tentatively on his back.

“I don’t hate you,” he whispered into Adrien’s ear. Nino swallowed, throat aching. “I don’t hate you, and I don’t hate Chat Noir. I was mad. A-And that’s not an excuse for what I said, and I’m so sorry. I’ve never hated Chat Noir, dude. He was always my favorite. I just…”

“You were upset,” Adrien finished, soft.

“Jumped to conclusions,” Nino corrected. “I was jealous of Alya keeping stuff from me, and I jumped to conclusions, and I hurt you, shit I-I hurt you, I-”

“I’m okay, Nino. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” Nino croaked, tightening his grip. Something in him breathed easier when Adrien tightened his own back, harder, his shoulders starting to shake. “It’s not okay, I love you, dude. Don’t do that for me. Don’t ever stop fighting back when it’s your life at stake, I-I can’t…”

Adrien’s grip clenched in his hoodie and suddenly Nino’s neck was wet with tears. Nino carded his fingers through Adrien’s hair, turning his head just slightly to press his lips against his temple. “Talk to me, dude,” he whispered. “I’m here now, you don’t have to do this alone. Not anymore.”

“You can’t tell, Nino,” Adrien croaked. “I mean it, not even Alya. Y-You can’t. Promise me.”

“Hey.”

He pushed Adrien back, gentle, and cupped his cheeks, swiping away the tears on his skin. “I promise,” he said firmly, staring Adrien in the eyes to show he meant it. “This is too big to tell, dude.”

“You told me-”

“I trusted you,” Nino said, squeezing Adrien’s shoulders. “I was pissed, and I knew I trusted you more than anyone, and I knew you wouldn’t say anything. A-And I was wrong, dude. I shouldn’t have told Alya’s identity. Mine is one thing, but that wasn’t okay. But man, dude, you have it rough as it is, without anyone knowing you’re a superhero. I’m not telling, dude.”

Adrien swallowed, throat bobbing, and glanced behind Nino, where he presumed Plagg was floating. Plagg must have indicated something, because he slumped and gave a weak smile. “Thank you, Nino.”

Nino shook his head. “Don’t thank me. D-Don’t…not after that.”

Adrien’s hands were on his cheeks now, fingers freezing. “Hey. It wasn’t you. You might’ve been mad, but it wasn’t you. It was Shadowmoth amplifying those emotions, and you beat him. You beat him, Nino. I’m…so proud of you for that,” he whispered, voice cracking.

Nino pulled him in again, arms clinging to his back and his nose pressed into the hood of Adrien’s borrowed sweatshirt. “I’m proud of you too, dude,” he said. He felt Adrien’s grip tighten on his back. “No one ever says it. I’m proud of you. And I’m-”

“If you say sorry one more time,” Adrien croaked, laughter behind his tears, “I will personally dangle you off the Eiffel Tower by your shield.”

Nino chuckled and stepped back, tugging Adrien’s wrists gently. “Come inside,” he pleaded. “It’s cold out.”

Adrien glanced behind his shoulder, teeth worrying at his lip. “I should get home,” he said. “It’s late.”

“Then they won’t notice,” Nino said, pulling him a step further. “C’mon, dude. You’ve been by yourself for so long. I wanna hear about being Chat Noir.”

Adrien looked back to him, lips parted. The glint in his eyes was illuminated by the surrounding buildings, and something in Nino’s stomach twisted in a way he wasn’t going to question at the moment. “Really?”

“You kidding? Of course, dude.”

Adrien’s mouth slid into a tiny smile now, head tilting in that puppy-dog way only he could pull off. “Yeah. Y-Yeah, I’d like that. If you’re sure it’s-”

Nino knelt down and lifted the roof access cover, climbing onto the ladder and looking back up at Adrien with what he hoped was an inviting grin. “Dude. Just get inside already.”

Sneaking back in was harder than sneaking out, only because now he had another person in tow, but they managed to get back into his room without waking anyone (even after their quick excursion to the kitchen for a block of sharp cheddar, because Plagg was whiny). Nino shut off all the lights in his room except his desk lamp, leaving the soft glow to illuminate the corner and moving to his bed.

Adrien hesitated at the foot of it, fiddling with the sweatshirt strings on Nino’s hoodie (and Nino was ignoring how much he liked that image, that was something he could confront in the morning). “Um.”

Nino rolled his eyes and held out an arm. “Come cuddle, bro. And tell me about being the hottest bachelor in Paris.”

That got a snort from his friend, and Adrien crawled into the bed next to him, flopping against Nino’s side and leaning his head against his shoulder as Nino tucked an arm around him. “I thought I was the hottest bachelor in Paris.”

“Oh my god, you and your alter ego literally are competing for the same spot, that’s so fucking funny,” Nino cackled, keeping his voice low so he didn’t wake Chris next door.

Adrien chuckled and then fell quiet, and Nino traced a circle on his arm, feeling the mood shift. “Wanna talk about what’s been going on with you and Ladybug?”

“How did you-?”

“It’s pretty obvious when you’re working directly next to the two of you. And especially now that I know it’s my best bro behind the mask? What’s up?”

Adrien went still again, and then rolled over, pressing his face into Nino’s shoulder. “Can we talk about that tomorrow?” he mumbled. “I’d rather just…hang out, for now.”

Nino tightened his grip, focused on the ceiling, and tried to quell the racing thoughts in his mind. “Of course, dude. Of course.”

Adrien’s breathing evened out, and Nino had a feeling he probably wasn’t heading home anytime soon. He didn’t care, just shifted to put his phone and glasses on his nightstand and then rolled over to hold his friend closer, smiling thinly when he instantly clung back.

Plagg was curled up on the pillow above Adrien’s head, and his cat eyes blinked sleepily as he studied Nino. “Thanks, kid.”

Nino loosened a hand and reached up, scratching the cat on the head, fully prepared to lose a finger. To his surprise, Plagg just purred and nudged up into the touch. “Thanks for breaking the rules for him,” he whispered back. “I’m sorry I put both of you through that.”

“You’re a good kid, Nino,” Plagg said, yawning and curling his tail around himself. “Stupid, but good. Wayzz likes you for a reason.”

The Kwami went quiet and started snoring, leaving Nino to flush at the compliment, run his fingers through Adrien’s hair, and fall asleep with a sense of calm he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

[q-gorgeous]

Ghost Farm

fanfiction

ao3

The GIW need ghost samples to conduct experiments. Why capture ghosts when you can make your own? prompt by @mystyrust

word count: 2609

warning: offscreen character death

gosh this prompt

Danny yawned as he walked into the school. He walked up to Sam and Tucker and was just about to greet them when heard Paulina sobbing into Dash’s chest by her locker.

“Woah.” He said. “What’s happening?”

“Star’s still missing.” Sam whispered.

“It’s been a week since her parents filed that report and no one’s seen any sign of her since then.” Tucker looked at his PDA. “No one has anything new to report online. I think it's starting to really wear on Paulina.”

“Maybe when we patrol later we should check up on some other places rather than just the ghost hot spots.” Danny said, looking back at Paulina. “Maybe we’ll be able to find something while we’re out.”

“Maybe.” Sam said. The first bell rang and they started heading to class. “But if we’re being realistic, a week is a long time with this kind of thing. She could be long gone out of Amity Park by now. Or, you know.” She whispered that last part.

“It wouldn’t hurt to try looking around though.”

The three of them walked into Lancer’s class. The empty desk next to Paulina felt like it took up the entire room and many of their classmates were trying not to look at it. The final bell rang and Mr. Lancer turned from where he was writing on the board. 

“Alright, class.” He said somberly. “Let’s get started.”

QQQQQ

“We’re having no luck down here, Danny. What about you?” Tucker called through the Fenton phones. 

Danny flew past the arcade and an ice cream shop and stopped, floating in front of an alley. “Nothing here. I think we can call it for-”

Danny’s head whipped towards the sound of trash cans crashing around. He floated into the alley slowly, looking around. When he came out the other end there was no one there. 

“Are you okay, Danny?”

He turned back around. “Yeah, I think some cat was getting into one of the garbage cans over here or something.” He flew back out of the alley.

“Okay, well then-”

Danny stopped listening to her when he saw something laying on the ground. He touched down on the concrete and bent over to pick up a pink clip.

“Hey Sam.” Danny asked. “Dash and Kwan were talking about taking Paulina for ice cream, right?”

“Yeah?” She said, confused. “Why?”

“I found Paulina’s hair clip on the ground.”

A heavy silence settled between the three of them.

“She probably left with them, right?” Danny asked. “They wouldn’t have left her alone here?”

“There’s no way they’d just leave her there. Not with Star missing.” Tucker said. 

Silence hovered over them again for a few seconds before Danny spoke. “You guys go home. I’m gonna fly up and down the streets over here again.”

“Are you sure?” Sam asked.

“Yeah.” Danny took off, flying above the buildings and scanning the ground below him. “Be careful getting home and let me know when you get there.”

They both gave him affirmatives and he looked up and down each street. In fifteen minutes he got notice that Sam was home and ten minutes after that so was Tucker.

He let out a deep breath, a bit more relaxed now that he knew Sam and Tucker were safely at home. He had a bad feeling, but he hadn’t seen anything suspicious along the streets or in the alley, so maybe Paulina did leave with Kwan and Dash and she just dropped her hair clip. 

He turned around to start heading back home. He dropped down in between his house and the neighbor’s and transformed. Before heading inside, he let Sam and Tucker know he was home and he turned off the Fenton Phones and put them in his pocket. 

Danny opened the door and stepped inside, shutting it behind him. He greeted his parents who sat waiting on the couch, his mom reading the paper and his dad cross stitching something. He yawned and started heading upstairs to get ready for bed.

After brushing his teeth and changing in the bathroom, Danny crossed the hall into his room, closing the door and turning off the light. He flopped down onto his bed and pulled the covers over himself.

He hoped Paulina was doing better tomorrow. 

QQQQQ

Paulina was missing. 

She had never come home last night and her parents called all her friends, asking if they knew where she was. No one had seen her since yesterday, and her parents filed a missing person report. It spread like wildfire through the school.

Dash and Kwan in particular looked horrified and close to hysterics throughout the day. They didn’t talk to anyone, didn’t even really look in anyone’s direction when their names were called. 

It took until lunch, but soon word spread that one of the underclassmen was missing too. One of the band kids. No one had seen him since last night either and he just happened to live in the area that the ice cream shop was in. 

It didn’t stop there either. Day after day, more and more kids were disappearing. Mikey, Dale, Sarah, more underclassmen. It was getting to the point where they cancelled school until someone had some answers. 

That didn’t stop Sam from going out and searching for any clue she could find though. The first time Danny had seen her when he was patrolling on his own, he scooped her right up and took her home, scolding her. 

When his mom got a panicked phone call from Sam’s hysteric mom, his heart dropped into his stomach. His hands went numb and he stared at his mom until she got off the phone and walked over to where he sat on the couch.

She pulled him into her arms tightly and whispered into his hair.

“Sam’s missing.”

QQQQQ

“Come on, Danny!” Tucker yelled through the computer. “You can’t just walk around waiting to be kidnapped! If you get kidnapped how are we gonna fix this?”

“What we’ve been doing hasn’t been working, Tucker!” Danny yelled back. “I can only cover so much ground when I don’t know what I’m looking for and you can’t be out there. I can barely do any patrols as it is, my parents are always coming up to my room to check on me. I don’t see any other way to do this.”

“What if you don’t come back either?”

Danny paused. “I have to come back. If I don’t come back then neither does Sam.”

Tucker sighed. “Just. Be careful.”

“I’ll try to be as careful as I can while being kidnapped.”

Tucker made a face at him just before Danny logged off. Transforming, Danny jumped into the air and flew out the window. He flew around town a bit before dropping off into the alleyway he found Paulina’s hair clip in. The areas that the kids were last seen in seemed to be all over town, but he couldn’t shake the sound that the garbage cans had made that day out of his head.

Pressing his back against the wall, Danny transformed and strolled out, walking down the street. There weren’t many people out most days now. Most of them were too afraid of going outside and getting snatched up like all the teenagers. 

He’d been walking for fifteen minutes before he heard the crunch of gravel underneath tires behind him. He didn’t turn around and kept walking forward. Footsteps rapidly approached him and suddenly a bag was over his head.

“Hey!” He shouted. 

“Are you sure we should take this one? What about his parents?”

Someone else scoffed. “They’re too dumb to do anything about it. They won’t even know where to find him. Just help me get him in the car.”

They picked Danny up and hauled him back towards the car. He heard the trunk open and they tied his wrists together before shutting the trunk heavily above him. Soon the vehicle was moving and driving away. 

Well, he accomplished what he sent out to do. It wasn’t very comfortable though. 

They must’ve been driving for at least an hour because by the time they stopped, both of Danny’s legs were asleep. The trunk popped open and he could feel the cold air rushing in. They pulled him out and placed him on the ground, yanking him back up after he almost collapsed from the pins and needles feeling in his legs. 

They walked him to an entrance where he could hear key cards being scanned at multiple points. They led him through squeaky hallways until they stopped and were suddenly lifting him up onto a bed? No, a stretcher. They strapped him down and once he was tightly bound they ripped the bag off of his head. 

Danny scrunched his eyes up at the white light bouncing off the bright white walls. Looking around, he saw two faces staring down at him. Agent K and Agent O. 

“The GIW?” Danny said. “What the fuck? Why are you kidnapping humans?”

They ignored him and started pushing him down a very long hallway. 

Rolling down the long hallway, Danny can hear the moans and groans, most of them coming from ghosts. He looks around and sees room upon room, windows letting him see the people inside each of them. 

His heart drops when he sees Star. She’s floating inside her room, a small husk of a ghost. When she sees him, her eyes immediately light up with rage and sparks fly off of her as she bounces all over the room. 

In the next room is Paulina. It doesn’t look like she’s a ghost, but it looks like she’s sick with ghost powers again. She’s pressed tightly against the wall she shares with Star. She hiccups and a ghost sense floats out of her mouth. 

As they push him by, he sees everyone. Mikey, Dale, Sarah. All of the underclassmen that went missing. Even Dash was there. Each one various levels of dead, alive, and sick.

They reach the end of the hallway and his pulse is spiking, his heart hammering in his chest. He hasn’t seen Sam anywhere.

He clears his throat. “So, uh, wanna share what you guys are doing here?”

“Ghost studies.” Agent K clips out.

“Right. Why are you kidnapping humans then?”

“It’s easier to make ghosts than to catch them.”

“What-” Danny stops and his eyes widen. They can’t be serious. Making ghosts? His thoughts go back to Star, bouncing around her room like a comet and his blood runs cold.

They roll through a set of double doors and when they open they’re in an operating room. His thoughts are buzzing and he can hear the click and ping of metal objects being placed on the counter. They’re just about to roll a utensil cart over to his stretcher when he hears a scream that fills his veins with fire. 

Without even thinking about it, Danny rips his wrists out of the restraints and punches Agent O in the face. He falls into the cart and all of the tools clatter to the ground. Danny shoots an ectoblast at each belt binding his ankles to the stretcher and hops off the bed, facing Agent K, glaring at him, hands filled with ectoplasm.

“You’re a ghost!” Agent K exclaims before Danny kicks him in the stomach. 

“And you’re scum.” Danny snarls. He shoots an ectoblast into the side of Agent K’s head, knocking him unconscious. 

Transforming, Danny jumps up into the air and starts flying from room to room, looking for Sam. He finally finds her in another room in a different hallway, another agent sticking a needle full of ectoplasm into her arm. She screams again. 

As the agent is reaching for something else from a tray, Danny picks up the tray, sending its contents flying, and smashes it into his face. The agent tumbles to the ground and Danny grabs his keycard. Picking Sam up, Danny phases them out of the room, locking the agent inside. 

“Sam! Sam, are you okay?” Danny asks shakily. 

She shakes her head. “We can’t worry about me right now. We have to get your parents and the cops.”

“But-”

Sam shakes her head again. “Some of these kids won’t make it long enough for you to patch me up. They’ve been sick for too long.”

He looks at her for a few seconds before nodding. He shoots up into the air, holding Sam close to his chest as he flew as fast as he could back home. 

He flew straight into the living room, halting abruptly when he saw his parents standing there. They stared with wide eyes at Sam in his arms and started reaching for their guns.

“Wait!” He shook his head. “We need your help! I found out where all the kids are!”

Maddie’s gun clattered to the ground. “Where are they? Was Danny with them?”

“Danny’s fine, he’s not there.” He said hurriedly. “They’re in a GIW compound outside of town. We need to hurry.”

“Let me just-” Maddie started reaching for Sam.

“No! We can’t waste any time.” His grip tightened on Sam. “She said she’ll be fine for now but there are kids who won’t make it much longer. They need our help more right now.”

“Okay. Okay, Jack. Get the keys for the van and a couple of bazookas. You take Sam to the van and direct us to the compound. I’m going to get in touch with the police.”

They all piled into the van and Danny directed them toward the compound. Danny kept a close eye on Sam and Maddie stayed on the phone until they reached the compound, giving the police the address. The van slammed through the brick wall surrounding the compound and straight into the front wall of the building. 

They all jumped out, Danny still carrying Sam, and he keycarded them through all the locked doors until they got to the wing full of students. Maddie covered her mouth as she looked at them. 

Soon the police got there and they began to cart out the agents that remained in the building. Paramedics came in to take care of the kids who were still alive while Jack and Maddie worked on calming Star and the other ghosts down. 

Danny let go of Sam’s hand slowly as the paramedics loaded her into the ambulance. He turned around and flew back into the building where he found his parents trying to comfort a distraught Star. 

He floated up to her and held a hand out. She looked at it and her eyes darted up to his face, recognition flashing through them. Tears welled up in her eyes and she stood, wrapping her arms around him as she sobbed. 

He loosely wrapped his arms back around her and waited with her until she was ready to go.

QQQQQ

Danny, Sam, and Tucker sat closely together on top of Danny’s bed. They had just gotten back from the memorial held for all the kids that died inside the compound. Danny and Tucker each held one of Sam’s hands, gripping them tightly. 

Sam took a deep breath and let it out shakily, her fingers twitching and going through Danny’s hand before settling back in place. 

Danny hoped to whatever deity there might be that this would never happen again. No matter what anyone thought of the ghosts in Amity Park, they had never stooped low enough to kill someone. They weren’t collecting humans for a ghost farm. 

He glanced up at the window, looking at the night sky. A ghost flew through the night, sparking brightly like a comet.

[erensproudsimp]

Chef D'œuvre

Jean kirstein x Reader

⚠ Sexual Content Ahead ⚠

Content Warnings:Fluff, Sex on a canvas, established relationship, teasing Jean hehe, dirty talk, ultimate smut + this isn't proofread

Summary: Restraining Jean from touching you the whole day, a candle light dinner in the evening leading to sex on a canvas? The idea of Jean as an artist is just so hot.

Word count:4.1k

Fanart is by artworkbyzuli on insta

Cross-posted on ao3

Colorful tainted tiles, the smell of fresh paint hovering in the air, early hours of sunshine filtering from the beige curtains to fall on his face highlighting his features as his eyes concentrated on the canvas. Blanc frames waiting to be hued with a meaning or not. Teeth clenching, his jawline apparent, he looked like a Greek God, his brush being his weapon, almost out of this world. Shirt glued on his body like a second skin layer bringing out his honed muscled body, Jean truly was a work of art spreading his magnificence on cloth and paper. Standing by the door frame in his shirt two times bigger than your figure, you admired your boyfriend, his back facing you, drowned in his own world of aesthetic in his studio.

Tiptoeing to him, you wrapped your arms around his torso, your cheek pressed on his back catching him off-guard. You took a quick whiff of him. Sandalwood with a faint citrus.

"Woah there, good morning baby, did you have a good night sleep?" Jean's hoarse voice almost made your legs lose their balance. His free hand caressing your arms, you hummed as a simple yes still intoxicated by his scent.

"I'm going to go prepare breakfast, I'll call for you when I'm done." Jean gave you a quick forehead kiss before you left the room.

Cracking some eggs in the pan, you connected your phone to the speaker in the house to play some music while you proceeded to put fruits in the blender to make smoothies. Swaying your body to the music at the same time lip-syncing to the words, you spread butter on slices of bread unaware of Jean's presence behind you. The man crossed his arms, leaning on the wall he admired your actions which were nothing but alluring to him.

What made it even more hot to him was the fact that you were wearing his shirt. At first in the studio, he didn't realise but now that he noticed, he couldn't help but smirk to himself. He took in the way his shirt was practically floating on you, the flashbacks of last night suddenly raced through his mind. The way you were moaning his name, grabbing the sheets tightly as you let him take control of you made him take a deep breath before he approached you.

Now it was his turn to return you the hug from earlier. Surprised by him, he didn't leave you a second to react to his abrupt act of affection, he moved your hair to the side to plant a kiss on your neck making you shiver. His arms tightened around you just as his kisses went deeper all through your neck.

"y/n," his hot breath unsteady.

"Je-Jean, the eggs are gonna burn," you breathed.

"The only thing burning right now is my urge to fuck you right on this counter," Jean whispered in your ear almost making you lose your thinking pattern.

"Jean, I'm serious," you tried to wingle from his grasp to save your omelettes and placed them on two separate plates.

Jean looked at you disappointedly as though a puppy who had just lost its toy.

"Aww don't look at me like that, gimme a kiss, come on," you opened your arms, encouraging him to come to you.

Gladly he did and locked his lips in an instant.

"Jump," Jean demanded in between the makeout and you, of course, obeyed.

Your legs around his hips, sloppy lips fighting for dominance, Jean pressed your ass on the kitchen island. His arms snaking up and down your thighs, giving them a light squeeze here and there.

"Your legs are pretty, but they would be prettier on my shoulders hmm," his voice laced with a passion so hot like molten lava.

Your insides now ignited with flame, you pushed your hips into his by closing in your legs wrapped around him. Hard. Mischievousness coursed through your mind as you wanted to tease him for making you flushed.

"Want my legs over you? well catch them if you can," with that said, you jumped off the kitchen island freeing yourself from his clutches to run away from him.

"Hey! Get back here! I'm not done with you! " Jean called after you, laughing as he chased you down the corridors. A soft genuine laugh emitting from him when you threw pillows from the sofas at him to halt his movements only for him to catch the items and throw it back at you like a snowball fight.

A grin plastered on your face when you finally got tired of the running and collapsed on the floor with Jean kneeling beside you equally euphoric. The happiness was mainly because he felt so much at peace seeing your smile.

"Got ya," he breathed from exhaustion, encircling his arms around your waist and pulling you close so that he could rest his chin on your shoulder.

"You're so warm," Jean nuzzled his nose into your neck.

"Speaking of warmth, our food's getting cold in the kitchen, hurry up we need to eat," you mentioned.

"The only thing I want to eat right now is you-" you cut him off with your index finger pressed on his soft lips.

"Jean, I swear to god, let's go," you pushed him from back because he was trying to grab your ass, however, you receded.

"Your hands were so small on my back, but I'd prefer them jerking my dic-" again you shut him up by shoving toast bread in his mouth to save you from further embarrassment.

"Y/n baby, I need you so bad right now," he said swallowing that bread hard as your eyes widen.

From the look in his eyes, you could tell that this man was sexually frustrated, certainly because of your actions earlier but you didn't expect him to be so thirsty.

For a brief moment, a thought came up to you, basically telling you to refuse his current wishes to make him further agitated just so that you ravish the feeling of him taking the pent-up anger out harder on you later. Perfect plan, you internally agreed to yourself.

"Oh you need me badly? How about you show me that at night, okay?"a light smirk stretching the corner of your mouth.

" Y/n, I need you now, like right now, I can't wait till night or anything," Jean whined. How cute.

"Aww, you're that desperate baby? You can't hold yourself back? I thought you were tougher than this,"you cooed.

" Y/n, I can see damn well what you're trying to do, so stop messing with me please, "Jean reached out to grab your face only for you to pull back. Not going to lie that did hurt you when you saw the disappointed look on his face, yet, oddly that made you feel and realise the control you had over him and goddamn this felt good.

"Okay then, how about a little bit of challenge for you? If you manage to keep your hands off me the entire day and that includes any sort of contact, I'll make a surprise for you tonight as a reward. And if you lose then no sex for you until the next day baby. Deal?"

"Now that's going to be hard as hell but your surprises never fail to entertain me so deal."

"That was quick of you," you commented shaking his hand as a way of signing the contract.

"I just know that you're going to do something remarkable that will blow my mind so I'm simply looking forward to it."

His hopes were ridiculously high for the reward and luckily you already had something in mind for tonight.

After breakfast, Jean wasted no time to rush into his studio to keep you out of his sight. That was going to be a little too easy for him to win in this way. Not that you didn't want him to win, you couldn't help but want to push him to his limits. While you were scavenging your mind for the perfect way to catch him off guard, you heard a knock at the door. Outside was the postman with a package which seemed to be a delivery of one of the various things you kept buying online.

Taking the parcel inside, you opened it to find something that made you smiled evilly. It was a black transparent two pieces lingerie with lace straps. Not a second was wasted for you to change into that. To hide your plans, you wore a bathrobe and tiptoed to the studio.

Inside, Jean clearly concentrated on drawing when you creaked open the door, his attention now on you.

"Y/n why are you wearing a bathrobe in the middle of the da- oh-"

Right at that moment, you removed the robe letting it fall to your feet to unveil the marvel that was hidden inside of it.

Jean's breath hitched in his throat.

"You have no idea how badly I want to scream right now,"his pencil falling out of his hand, he covered his face with his hand and took a step back from you. He rubbed his temples as he inhaled deeply.

"Fuck y/n, why are you doing this to me?"he looked at you from up to down as though he was eating you up with his eyes, capturing every inch of what he's seeing and burning it into his memory.

"Do you like what you see?" your hands on your hips as you leaned on the wall.

"You have no idea."

You chucked and approached him slowly.

"If only I could touch you right now, you have no idea of what I'd do to you," Jean put his hands into the pockets of his pants to try to contain himself from not jumping on you like a hungry wolf who hasn't eaten in weeks.

Clacking your black heels on the cold tiles, your hands meticulously moving on your hips, you diminished the distance between you two. One foot difference. Jean licked his teeth from inside closed mouth and opened it slightly to let out hot breath, sustaining the proximity but you could see the intensity in his eyes.

"I can't stop staring, please y/n, "

"Where's the fun in that? I wanted to see you all hopeless for me and you're doing a pretty good job resisting," your finger pointing at his growing bulge.

Blowing air from his mouth, his hands on his hips, he walked to and fro.

"Is this the surprise you were telling me about in the morning?"

"Of course not, the surprise is bigger than this. I just wanted to give you a little sneak peak thought since I love you so much and don't want to kill you with a heart attack," you giggled twirling a strand of your hair. His eyes went big.

"If that's the case, you better prepare yourself for tonight because you seriously don't know what I'm going to do to you," Jean licked his lips.

"Can't wait," you blew him a kiss while you strolled out of the room, his eyes still fixated on the lingerie.

Not only did what happened turned you on, but it also motivated you to start the preparations for Jean to wreck you till you couldn't walk. Changing into pajamas for comfort, you took out scented candles of your preference and placed them on the nightstands and dressing table in the bedroom.

Jean's POV

'What the hell was y/n even thinking pulling that move on me? '

Sighing deeply I looked at my boner.

"Now what am I going to do of you? Jerk off to the memory of y/n in that black lingerie?"

On second thought, that doesn't sound bad, except for the fact that he was in an art studio.

Gosh, was he not turned when he first saw you in that. The way the cloth surrounded your soft breasts, decorating them to be perhaps the most flawless thing he'd ever seen or the way your stance screamed if confidence. He couldn't decide which of them were hotter.

The little ribbons on the strap did nothing but make you more erotic. How did you even manage to look that good, is a mystery that he will never discover.

"I really got the best of the best for me huh," Jean smiled to himself.

His art failed in front of you. Null and void. In his eyes you were the definition of what a beauty goddess was, hence proving that beauty indeed lied in the eyes of the beholder. Despite your imperfections which nonetheless still made you impeccable, Jean always attempted in copying your sublimity yet in vain.

Without a doubt, you were the best Muse he's ever had in his life. One day hoping that he would finally do you justice and be able to recreate his image of you in his mind on cloth, Jean kept trying albeit failing each time. However, he would absolutely never give up.

Collecting himself from the recent impact, he picked up his pencil from the ground and as much as he wanted to concentrate on his drawing of you, he couldn't prevent himself from picturing you from back then. You were beyond gorgeous. Maybe, that exactly was the inspiration he needed.

"I need to take a bath," Jean said to himself. Luckily there were two bathrooms in the house, as he wouldn't want to interrupt you while you were busy making whatever surprise.

To be honest, Jean was as impatient as you and full on ready to be taken by surprise by you.

Your POV

"Okay I've cleaned the room spotless, scented it, changed the sheets of the bed, took out towels and now time to bring the big thing,"you checked off everything on your mentally made-up list before you could continue.

Rushing to the wardrobe, you took out the art supplies required for the sex painting. Canva isn't the comfiest option for sex but you knew that it will all be worth the work at the end.

You honestly couldn't wait to see Jean's reaction to this.

Since the mattress can get a little colorful, you didn't want to run the risk of ruining the bedding either, you rather placed the sheet of canva on the carpeted floor that was still easy to the body. Laying down a cloth, that you taped so that it wouldn't dislocated when things get moving, on top of which you placed the canva and towels around it as well as a trail of towels towards the bathroom so that clean up of the post-art would be rendered easier.

"Okay now that everything is settled, let's go take a bath and prep myself up," you muttered to yourself, locking the door from the inside so that Jean wouldn't accidentally enter it.

-Time skip-

A private dinner in your dwelling makes for an magical evening. Silk sheet on the table, napkins neatly pleated on the white plates surrounded by tableware. Incorporating flower petals, slow romantic harmonious music, and low lighting to create the right atmosphere you as well added string lights for an added touch of enchantment. Aphrodisiac food was the obvious choice, you thought, placing down the lobster in the middle. Wine in glasses twinkling to the fairy lights for a further sizzle.

Not long until Jean made his appearance in a suit, top buttons of his shirt loose while you were in a black dress lighting the scented candles.

"Hey babe," his throaty voice called.

Turning around, you saw him, his hands in his pockets walking towards you. His large body towering yours.

"You look hot," he complimented looking down on you.

"So do you," you giggled bopping his nose.

Pulling a chair, Jean signaled you to sit as he pushed the chair then going to his seat facing you.

The empty wine glasses were delicately filled with the red alcohol, each of you raising your goblet for a cheers.

" Cheers to my pretty boyfriend."

"Cheers to my future wife," Jean smirked as you were busy turning fifty shades of red.

In comfortable silence, except for the clinking of utensils, both of you ate.

"Main course is done for, now time for dessert, "he said standing from his chair to yours. Lift you off the ground swiftly, he walked you to the bedroom in bridal style.

"huh? HUH? Jean what are you doing?"

"Taking my dessert to eat, what else?" he replied kissing you. His kiss was a fever. Hot. Sluggish.

Opening the door to disclose the surprise, his eyes went wide until it hit him. The canva and towels on the ground, paint orderly laid on the bed.

"I was thinking the house needed some more decorations, so why not spice things up by creating this masterpiece and hanging it in the living room for everyone to see? " innocently you smiled at him.

"Hahaha y/n! You're amazing!" rosy cheeks, eyes twinkling with admiration and affection he twirled your body in air, "wait then that means that the whole day you preventing me from touching you was pointless," his expression now slightly frowned.

"I mean, yeah, I mean, I just wanted to see you desperate for me," you fumbled with your words.

"Bad girl. After this I will have to punish you for making me suffer for nothing," Jean put you down.

You didn't know whether to feel anticipation or fear knowing that this man was going to wreck you.

"Why are you acting coy all of a sudden? Weren't you the one to act like a whore? " with the cockiest smirk ever Jean said.

His hands previously placed gently on your hips began to tighten. The press only fueled your rapid beating of your heart. Tilting your head towards his face by lifting it with one finger on your chin, he locked eye contact with you.

Lust filled his irises. Skilfully, he unzipped your dress and pulled it off your skin. Skin that desired to be touched so badly. Skin that burned under his fingertips that grazed the surface. Under the clothes exposed the black lingerie that got Jean worked up since morning.

Even though he already saw you in it, it nevertheless felt like the first time. The same adoration that held his gape seemed to be worshiping your body.

"May I take your bra off? " Jean asked. You nodded, Jean elatedly removed it.

"Look at these perfect tits. Belonging and made only for me," cupping them in his hands, he growled against your neck.

Your mind going blanc and empty, you were left speechless. Only ravishing him. His presence. His hot breath fanning on you. As much as you wanted to take this slowly, you couldn't stop yourself from craving to feel him buried deep inside of you.

Your hand slightly sliding over his growing bulge, earning a hiss and restrained moan from him.

"No. You're not going to be the one to tease me anymore. It's my turn," biting your collarbone, he declared making you leap in his arms.

Feeling self-conscious that you were the only one in undergarment, you unbuttoned his shirt and ripped it off him while he was sloppily making out with you.

Grabbing your thighs, he insinuate for you to jump. Chest to chest, he then threw you on the bed making it sink under your weight. He was finally freed from his restraints of not laying a hand on you.

His body hovering yours, he kissed you passionately. He's never kissed you like this before. Maybe you should restrain him more often.

Jean swallowed your gasp when unknowingly his hand went down your stomach to press on your clothed clit.

"Huh? You like that?" laughs "yeah you like that don't you," he breathed his finger circling around the bud. Your response was a moan and your breath quickening. Your reaction turned Jean on more than he already was.

Going down on you, he sucked your soaked underwear, the room filled with slurping sounds. He gripped your hips by wrapping his big arms around it to prevent you from squirming away. You were practically a moaning mess. Aggressively, he ripped it off you, continuing to lick through your folds.

"Jea-Jean I think I'm going to c-cum," you manage to utter.

"Heh, not yet princess, we got so much more do," he wiped his mouth that was coated with your juices and licked the liquid off his fingers. You looked at him with pleading eyes as you were yearning for a release.

Legs trembling, you raised your body to be able to sit while Jean grabbed the body-safe paint and put a fair amount on the cloth.

"Come here my lady," he said as he picked you to lay your body gently on the canva, paint on your back.

Jean took off his pants and underwear, his hard dick slapping on his stomach whilst you were making yourself comfortable.

A brush in his one hand and a palette in another, he sauirted some paint on the flat item.

Impatience began to overcome you as you begged him to come to you.

"Wait a moment more babe, I'm just making the perfect colour," Jean finished his sentence by approaching you.

Jean maintained eye-contact with you, the brush gliding over your soft skin leaving colors behind its track. Chills ran down your skin after each stroke. Drowning in bliss, Jean slowly ran the tool down your belly to an inch higher up your pussy. You were waiting for him to pass the paint through your core but instead he stopped his actions making you internally more annoyed.

"I'm not going to let you get off so easily after what you did to me," Jean murmured.

Cold. Squeezing the paint tubes, Jean splat paint on your body, mainly on your stomach. He leaned forward and pressed his body against yours to spread the paint.

Lining his dick right outside your entrance, he thrusted in without warning. Your back arching, you let out a moan. His hands rushing behind your back, he hugged your body as he gave you time to adjust to him.

"Mmmm, fits perfectly. Look at how good you take me, yeah you see that? "Jean moaned in your ear.

" It's okay, you can move,"you bit back a groan because Jean didn't leave you a second before pumping in and out of you.

" I can't believe you're mine, all mine, no one but me knows how good you feel, just me,"Jean panted in your ears," listen to my moans, you he-ear how goo-od you're making me feel? "

"AH-yes Jean, yes," you purred.

His forehead rested on yours, mouth connected, swallowing each other's breath and sounds.

" Go faster Jeaann." This made him slow down instead of doing as you wanted.

"Oh? you want me to go faster? Go-o ahead, beg for it. Tell me how bad you need me," Jean's stroked your insides with long and slow thrusts.

"Pl-please Jean, need you so badly, you make me feel so good so take all your anger out on me bu-ut please make me cum alongside with you!"

"Lift your ass, my queen,"Jean satisfied with your answer commanded, which you did as he ordered as he pounded deeper into you mixing the paint on the canva.

"Look at you, such a good girl."

It wasn't long until Jean filled your insides with his hot seed making you scream his name loudly. Right before you could come that Jean could tell by the shaking of your breath, he lifted your body off the masterpiece so that your ejaculation wouldn't ruin it.

In his arms, you came so hard, your liquids dripping down Jean's skin.

"Y/n, I don't think you realised that but what you just did was so hot," Jean admired you.

"Also, thank you for fulfilling my fantasies as an artist," he thanked you kissing your cheeks fondly.

Walking on the towel leading to the bathroom, he put you inside the bathtub, opening the tap to let the container fill with hot water. While it was doing so, Jean got in with you between his legs and head on his chest heaving up and down.

Jean took some shampoo in his hand, and massaged your scalps with you basking. Heavenly was a word too light to describe the feeling. You were basically in paradise.

"In round two I'm not planning on going gentle now so just bite the pillow and take it," Jean sputtered against your hair.

[thenextchapter22]

Mail Order... Kitten Girl

Part 8: Aw Rats

Description: Satan accidentally orders a special type of ‘cat’ online after having a few too many drinks…

Tags: Pet Play, Cat Hybrids, Fluff, Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Tail Fucking

Pairing(s): Reader/Everyone (but Luke)

Link to my AO3: Click Here

In this chapter: Kitten and Barbatos spend time together!

Part One  Part Two  Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven

Authors Note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY BARBATOS!! This one is for you :))

+++++ MINORS DNI +++++

It was an early morning on a weekday. You woke up slowly, snuggling into the demon body beside you in bed. Sleeping in Belphie’s room was always your top favorite spots to get a great nights sleep. Surrounded in his bed with all his blankets and pillows he stacked up plus his warm arms around you, that was the best.

You were shaken out of the slumber by Beel shaking his twin’s arm, saying, “Belphie, Kitten, get up and eat.”

Belphie groaned, squeezing your body to him, nuzzling the back of your neck with his heated breath caressing you. “Mmmm... ‘s early, Beel. Later...”  

The temptation to stay was strong, but your stomach gurgled and you decided to get up.  

Wiggling in Belphie’s strong hold until you faced him instead of the wall, he opened one eye just enough to stare at you questionably. “Cuddle me later?” you said through a yawn.  

Your youngest demon Master sighed, but gave you one final squeeze around your waist, lingering just above your bottom with his fingers, and kissed you gently. “Fine... Go on,” he said, and opened his arms to free you.  

Beel helped you climb over him. As soon as you were out of the bed, Belphie went right back to sleep.  

With a smiling sigh, Beel shook his head. “C’mon, Kitten. I’ve made one of your favorites for breakfast so let’s get you dressed.”  

You picked at the thin silk short set you had worn to bed. Sleeping with any of them, you liked to wear little to almost nothing. Firstly, because a lot of them ran hot, and secondly so that you could feel their bodies closer to you. That extra touch made your body feel good.

You sat on Beel’s bed, waiting for him to pick out an outfit for you. Almost all of your Master’s liked to dress you. And because you usually stayed in one of their rooms, sometimes a different demon each night so it was fair—they liked to fight a lot about that—they had clothes ready for the next day.

The redheaded demon chose a soft pair of leggings and a short-sleeved scoop neck shirt, also soft,  probably fleece . You smiled at the plain underwear he helped you slip on.  Asmo , Lucifer, and Satan all liked to give you lace undies and bras, but the others preferred comfort for you. Either way you  didn’t  mind, they were your owners after all and you liked them dressing you up. The fun of it was seeing the  different styles.  

After you were clothed, Beel took your hand and smiled. “Let’s go eat.”

You smiled right back and nodded, “Mmhm! ‘m hungry, Master.”

“Me too. I haven't eaten in minutes.”

Giggling, the both of you left Belphie to the room and went to eat.

Breakfast for you was perfect. Waffles soaked in syrup, piled high with berries and whipped cream. Sausages and eggs, too.  The table was full, aside from Belphie. Your Masters all ate their weird demon foods. The day was looking to be a great one!

Once your belly was full, that was when your morning turned from sweet to just plain sour.

The worst news was given to you, and in anger you lashed out.

Which was why now, you sat dejectedly on the couch, arms crossed and tail swishing across your lap, the tip fuzzed out. You poked at your collar that was almost forced on you, a black leather collar that wasn’t uncomfortable but not your favorite, thick and ugly. A long leash was attached to it, and on the other end was Lucifer holding it. Usually you liked the leash, but not when it was a punishment.

Everyone was in the common room now, even Belphie who had gotten up after hearing the news. They either stood around you or sat on the furniture, but they all were looking at you with small smiles or smirks.

You were  not  amused. If you were an actual cat, your fur would be stuck up like the tip of your tail was.

The bad news that caused this problem... your Masters were leaving for the whole day to a RAD Student Council member only meeting that Lord Diavolo was holding.  

You hated being alone. But because Barbatos was staying behind to make a feast for when they came back, he had volunteered to watch you.  

When Lucifer went on and explained he was going to take you to Lord Diavolo’s castle for the hand  off of  yourself to the demon butler, you obviously did not want to go or for them to go and as such you had clawed at him, and thus the leash.  

You didn’t draw blood, Lucifer was too fast for that, but the reaction was enough to be punished.

Huffing in your seat, you refused to not look angry. They were leaving you... again!

Lucifer sighed, and patted the top of your head a few times. “Bad kitty’s get punished, my dear,” he said matter of fact.

Your nose twitched. “I know...”

“You promise to behave for Barbatos?” Satan asked.

You nodded. “Yes, Master...”

“Don’t look so upset, it will only be for a few hours...”

“Why can’t I just be at home alone?” you asked, glancing at them all with wide eyes.

Asmo cooed. “Last time Simeon took too long, kitty cat, and you were upset with us. We’re just looking after you.”

You pouted.

Beel smiled. “Barbatos is excited to see you. And he said he wants you to taste test some of his bakes today. I’m jealous.” He drooled.

Your ears perked up. “R-really?” You licked your lips. Barbatos was the best baker you knew. His cakes and pies and basically everything he made was yummy.

“Kitten looks happy now!” Mammon said with a grin.

Satan agreed, “She looks like the cat who got the cream.”

Asmo giggled. “She probably will, too, and I mean to say Barbatos’~”

The others groaned or chuckled. You didn’t know what that meant, but you did love cream.

“We’re having a big feast later at Lord Diavolo’s castle, so be sure not to eat too much,” Lucifer said, and then announced it was time to go.

You stood as Lucifer started for the front door, the leash taught. Your Masters all said their respective goodbyes and ‘I love you’s’ and it made you very happy inside. You would miss them so much.  

Maybe it was better to not be alone, so you wouldn’t be so sad and think about them until they came home.

Turning on your heel before the front door, you smiled. “I love you, too, my Masters.” And you meant that, truly.

They all cooed, or grinned, and you waved goodbye.  

It was only for the day, right?

_+_

The walk to Lord Diavolo’s wasn't too long. Barbatos let you inside the main entrance where you waited to be handed off like a true pet.

“Welcome, Lucifer, Kitten. We are going to have a good time together today, hm?” the demon butler smiled at you kindly.

You peeked at him from behind Lucifer and nodded once. Still, something inside of you was a little peeved.

“I trust you will be good?” Lucifer asked you, a stern look in his red eyes.

“Yes, Master, I'll be good,” you said.

Lucifer handed the leash to Barbatos, who took it without a single question. You wondered if Lucifer told him what happened and why you had the leash at all.

“She will be well looked after, Lucifer.”

Lucifer nodded. He gave you a single kiss on your forehead. “Behave, Kitten,” he said, and then he was gone out the door. You watched as he transformed into his demon form and flew off, majestic and sexy. You did love his wings; they were so soft.

“Kitten? Let’s go.” Barbatos smiled at you again, and gestured with his hand for you to go ahead and step further in the Castle.

You frowned, but did, and you found yourself in the kitchen after a little bit of walking.  

The room was a far cry from the House of Lamentation’s kitchen. First it was much larger, higher ceilings, and had several ovens and even more cooking equipment. There were tons of cabinets and a large black table off to the side. The floors were nicer on your shoes, less chance of tripping on wood floors than badly lain cement blocks.

While you glanced around, you felt a tug on your leash and a click, and Barbatos was hanging your leash on a hook on the wall before you knew what happened.

“Wha-?”

“It will be easier for the both of us. I won’t say anything if you won’t?”

You giggled. The collar was still on, but that was fine by you. “Okay!”

“Perfect. Over this way please.” He led you to a counter, and there was a ton of ingredients out. They smelled sweet, salty, bitter. Some of them looked good, others odd colored or shaped, but still had a good aroma. “Today you can help me prepare the meal for their return.”

Your ears fell. “I can’t cook...”

"That's not a problem. You have two hands, and so you can mix. And taste test for me as well.”

Now  that  you could do with great pleasure. “Yes, I want to help!”

He chuckled. “I assumed so. We are only preparing desserts now; I will finish the rest of the meal later so it's fresh. Let’s begin, shall we?”

Baking with Barbatos was fun. You got to eat so many tasty things. He let you lick the spoon with the frosting, and gave you little chocolate chips. Mixing dry ingredients for him was harder than it looked and you got some flour on yourself, but that was why you had the apron on.  

Although, it was strange that he already had the perfect one for you. It certainly was not for one of the demon brothers or Diavolo (right?).

After cooking for a long time, eating and mixing and opening and closing the ovens, setting all the pretty treats under domes on counters or in the fridge, you were totally exhausted. All the hard work and eating had really wore you out.  

You yawned a few times, and rubbed at your eyes.

“Is it time for a cat nap?” he teased.

“Barb, I’m tired.” You yawned again.

He softly laughed. “All right. Come with me, Kitten.” He put the palm of his hand on your lower back to lead you out of the kitchen. You were taken around a few doors and small hallways to a wide window with a bed seat cushion, and it faced a garden full of flowers and wildlife.

“So pretty...” you were in awe.

“I thought you might like the view. Rest for a while and I will wake you up once you’ve gotten the proper sleep.”

You curled up on the warm bedding and purred. The sun was shining in the spot, and you could fit yourself perfectly in a ball. “Thank you~”

Barbatos smiled down at you, and pet your head, his hand lingering on your neck to squeeze once. It gave you the shivers. “You’re very welcome, Kitten. Sweet dreams.”

You fell asleep watching the birds flutter around and chirp.  

When you woke up it was still sunny, but not directly on you. And you watched the garden for a while, and then you saw it.

A rat, scurrying across the field.

You made a sound and bared your teeth at it.

The window had a latch, and you undid it and crawled out to step into the garden. You were quiet, stealthy, your prey was right there. You caught it in your claws and squeezed until it was dead.

This was the perfect present to say thank you!

Barbatos had not come for you yet, so you set the dead rat on the floor of the room, waiting for Barbatos to come fetch you.  

And when he came inside, he froze up, and stared at your gift. “Kitten.”

“Barb~ I got you a gift, it’s right there.” Your tail flickered in happiness, and you grinned a fanged smile at him, proud and excited.

He tensed as he walked around it, but did not pick it up. “Did you touch that thing?” he asked instead.

“Yes, with my claws. I killed it for you!”

“I see...” He held out his arms, and frowned. “Let’s go wash your hands,” he said.

You pouted. “Are you not going to take my present?”

Barbatos’ brows furrowed. “Kitten, I appreciate the gift, however...”

Now you understood, and your eyes watered. “Y-you hate it, don’t you?”

“Not at all, kitty, not at all. I just want to take care of you first.” He grabbed you under your arms and you were taken back to the kitchen, legs wrapped around his waist. You felt like a toddler but the warmth of his body was nice. “You need to clean up before you touch anything else.”

He directed you to stand before the sink and place your hands inside. The water was hot on your hands and you cried out. He apologized, and quickly turned it down, and then poured soap on your hands, helping wash them, getting between your fingers and under your claws.

“Rats carry diseases, and Devildom rats even more. I want you to be more careful.”

You nodded. “Okay, I’m sorry.”

Barbatos gave you a soft smile. “It’s fine. There now, let’s dry them and then we can get back to baking together.”

You dried your hands and frowned down at the tiles. “I just wanted to thank you...”

He cupped your cheek and had you look at him. “I know, but you don’t need to thank me with that,” he said, not unkindly.

Oh, so that’s what he was getting at. Well, your Master’s did not say you couldn’t please Barbatos, and he did take care of you. This was the only other way you knew how to say you were grateful for him feeding you delicious snacks and letting you sleep in the cozy sun spot.

“I can thank you like this,” you said, and knelt down on the floor right in front of him, your face at his crotch.

There was one quick inhaled from the demon butler. His gloved finger lifted your head up for him to stare down at you with his pretty green eyes. There was a slight hue on his cheeks. “You don’t have to thank me at all.”

You licked your lips. “I want to. Please? Can I see your cock and suck it?”

He began thumbing your bottom lip. “If that’s what you want, I wouldn’t say no.” Then he made a concerned face. “Do you want something for your knees?”

You nodded, glad Barbatos was such a kind demon. “Please...” and he somehow had a throw pillow in his hands, and you lifted one knee at a time to get situated. “Thank you.”

“It’s no trouble.”

Quickly you helped him out of his pants, slipping them to the floor. As you did his hand caressed the top of your head, and you felt his dark gaze on you, watching every move you made. As his pants dropped to the floor, he stepped out of them, kicking them away. The mess was so unlike the butler from what you had seen.

Now he was just in his underwear, a silk dark green pair that outlined his cock and balls. You nuzzled his clothed dick. “Smells good, Barby.”  

“Mmm, you like the smell of cock, Kitten?”

You nodded. “Yesss-”  

His hand went to your hair at the back of your head to lightly tug. The pain mixed with his scent urged you on, and you had his boxers pulled down, and he was quicker in stepping out of those. His cock out inches from your mouth, half hard. Before you sucked it, you grabbed it to stroke it to life. You licked the tip once, he gasped. Then you swallowed him down and peeked up at him with a certain look, unmoving. Waiting for him to do something.

He got the idea and smiled. “Do you want me to use your mouth?”  

You hummed, hopeful he understood it meant yes. And he understood because he began using your mouth. Filling it with his slicked head, hitting your tongue and roof of your mouth. Your lips were swelling up, and you suckled and slurped at his cock.

Clawed hands went to his waist, holding him steady as his fingers clutched your hair to do the same. The pain and scent surrounding you had your pussy wetting up, soaking your undies. But this was for him, about Barbatos’ pleasure. And a Kitten could please their Master, or their Master’s friends, and you would do a good job of it, too.

Breathing through your nose, you kept a firm hold on his hips, and your tail helped by wrapping around his thigh once to squeeze. His legs were bare, strong looking. You looked up at him, and met his dark eyes, flecks of black creeping in to those slate green iris’. It was sexy and you moaned.

“Ahh, Kitten,” he moaned. His hand not at your hair went to touch your tail, wrapped around a part of it and stroked like you had done to his dick. “Such a soft tail."

You moaned louder, vibrating around his cock, tonguing the underside with your flattened muscle, flexing. He tasted tangy and filled your mouth perfectly, and a little precum trickled onto your taste buds.

The demon butler tensed and grunted out a warning before he came in your mouth, and only then did you let him go. You held his spent cum in your mouth on your tongue, and showed it to him before swallowing. It was bitter, but you had worse.

“Such a naughty thing,” he commented, and pet your hair from your cheeks.  

He smiled, and in his eyes was something new you hadn’t seen. He put his clothes back to right, and before you could react, he had you in his arms and then deposited you on the long kitchen table. The throw pillow was shoved under your body to lift you up at your lower half, and it helped keep your tail from being squished. But you were confused.

“Barb-”

“Hush now.” He stood at your feet, a demonic grin truly. “I shall return the favor,” he whispered. Barbatos’ appearance shifted, and he was in his demon form, his twin-tipped tails flickering behind him, his bat-like horns gleaming in the kitchen light.

His hands torn down your pants to your ankles, and you let him, him taking off your shoes next to leave you in socks and your top. Then you were spread open, panties glistening, socked feet flat on the table. He had you bend your legs so he could grasp your knees to keep you like that, but your pants hugged at your ankles like restraints.

Those eyes of his were basically neon green they were glowing, and he stared at your clothed core, and you tightened in response. Could he see the flex of your pussy?  

“You got wet from sucking me, hm... How delightful.” His finger went to your waist, tugging under the band, and it snapped apart. He tore your underwear from you and exposed your vagina to the air, the coolness hitting your burning heat, wetness growing.

“Ahh, B-barb-"

His tails were hovering your vagina, twitching, and you leaned your head down to watch. You couldn’t see much past your belly as he lifted you up, but you knew what his intentions were.

You begged for it, “please, inside...”

He did not hesitate. His tail slowly went inside your pussy, thick, slimy, softly scaled. It was bigger than you figured, and you tightened down and wiggled your hips.

He tore his glove off with his teeth, and his bare finger circled your clit, the sparks of pleasure helping the stretch. “It’s okay, you can take it. Be a good kitty.”

You clenched down on him again and he winced for a second, but then his tail slithered deeper and flicked at the tip to hit that spot inside and you saw stars, clutching the table at each end with clawed hands.

“You’re damaging the wood,” he said with a bit of humor, but did nothing to stop you. His finger circled your clit faster and harder, and you were close but still felt like it wasn’t enough.

That was when his second tail spread your cheeks apart to press to your anus, slimy from the wetness leaking from your pussy. You were not ready for that, not now.

You cried, “nnngg, not there, please.” Your own tail swooshed in the air, a nervous twitch, and a warning that you did not like that.

Barbatos kissed your inner thigh, holding your knee wider with one hand as his tail fucked you, sloppy sounds echoing in the room along with your heavy panting. “I know, beautiful thing, I won’t.” He left the tail tip there, slipping over your hole to join the other at your pussy, pressing against its twin. “You can take two, can you not?”

You tensed and sobbed. “P-please,” you desperately wanted to be torn open.

He grinned, sharp teeth, and shoved his second tail in along with the other. You arched your back and tossed your head to the side and sobbed, burning and intense pleasure/pain encompassing you. “Ahhhgg~”

The pace he set was fast and rough, the double tails slipping in and out and scrapping at the best parts of you, no time to adjust. “You’re so sweet, yet so naughty. I want to feel your pussy on my cock someday.”

“Uhh, yes, yes, want that-”

“Hm, I know you do.”

He was so himself like this. Barbatos was commanding and sure in his movements, and it was perfection. His head went between your legs and his mouth found your clit and licked and kissed wet and sloppily. You wished you could watch as he did, but your position only let you see his head bobbing, and his tail motioning in and out between your thighs.

He kept his mouth on your clit, swishing his tongue back and forth. “Purr for me, kitty,” he pulled back to say, and then with insane speed he fucked you with his serpent tails and licked you, like a vibrator toy for your clit.

The heat was reaching your belly in a boiling point now. Your body was hot, tense, and your toes curled, and then with an arched back, your belly tightened up and you were finished. “Cumming, Barb, cummiinnnnggg~” you exclaimed, spurting all over.  

It lasted a few moments, but felt like longer. You kept your eyes shut and felt the excess amount of your own juices dripping out. The sparks went with the beat of your heart as you calmed down, almost like an exposed wire feeling every single thing. Your shirt was sweaty. Your throat sore, from both screaming your pleasure and holding some back. There was a little bit of tears drying on your cheeks.

When you did open your eyes, Barbatos was hovering over your head, smiling that gentle smile, this time it reached his kind eyes. “So pretty for me,” Barbatos murmured, kissing your cheek. “I need to clean you up now.”

You hummed, shutting your eyes as fireworks popped up in your vision. “Mmm, clean up,” you copied.

He chuckled, and lifted you up in his arms, and you whined but allowed it. “Come on kitty, you can have another nap after.”

You sighed. “Love naps.”

“I gathered that. You may be a second Belphegor and we just don’t know it.”

You giggled. “Mmmm.” What a silly thing to say.

_+_

“She looks exhausted,” Lucifer commented. He had a slight smirk in his eyes and on his lips, but not enough for the average person to see.

Barbatos shared a similar look. “Oh yes, we had an eventful evening, didn’t we?” You flushed red, ignoring the question, and he went on, holding out a few containers. “Here. To take home with you. The feast will begin in a few hours, but I know Beel will like to have some extras.” Barbatos handed you the boxes. “Thank you for all your help today, Kitten. Anytime you want to stop by, feel free.” The green of his eyes shone, mischievous.

You held in the whine, because you  did  want to visit again. But the teasing was too much and you were exhausted mentally and physically. You didn’t even want to be standing right then.

You looked at Lucifer and asked, “Master, can we go home now?”

“Yes, we can.” He took the leash from Barbatos and you both left Lord Diavolo’s castle for the House of Lamentation.

And if Lucifer noticed the limp in your walk, he said nothing on it.  

Thankfully you were not in trouble. Your Masters, it seemed, did not care if you shared yourself. But you had to wonder the limitations of that... you’d ask another time.

So, you went home to rest before the feast, but in the end you did not go. You actually stayed behind with Levi who had plans to be online that night (Diavolo played video games, you heard, so he excused the Envy demon).

Snuggled up with him on the beanbag you lazily watched him play, occasionally getting soft pets between battles. It was boring to just watch, but you had enough excitement. This was a perfect way to end a sweet day.

[altcvnningham]

strings | johnny silverhand

summary: a storm passes through night city, but it isn't that which wakes her. it's the soft sound of guitar strings, being plucked by chrome fingers.

words: 1280

pairing: johnny silverhand / fem v (my v vana, but i avoid physical description, so read the name as whatever you like!!)

content: fluff, mild angst, Yearning™️, johnny plays guitar and it's rly therapeutic

warnings: SPOILERS, death mention, johnny shuts up for once so maybe mildly ooc, idk how guitars work

misc: soooo after listening to this on loop for the last forever, i just needed to vent and get this outta my system. i do use my v's name (vana) in this, but there's no physical description of her, so feel free to imagine v as your own!! also, it's been almost 4 years since i've officially posted any of my writing online, so while this is a little rough and not as detailed as i'd usually like, please be kind, and please enjoy!! (also ao3 link soon maybe but i'm lazy)

***

V doesn’t know what day it is when she awakes, but she does so to the quiet twang of guitar strings.

The metal blinds slide open, aware of her waking, and the morning spills into the room, dim and grey. Rain patters against the glass, and V, with her eyes still closed, curls deeper into the bedsheets to fend off the cold, away from the light towards the dark shelter of the wall. Night City can wait. She’ll enjoy this strange, soft music while it lasts.

Fingers pluck on quietly, nary a breath nor sigh to indicate the person playing. It’s a somber melody, a blue tune teased with the vague, cruel implication of hope, heartbreak, contentment. There‘s something in the way the music seems to move around the room and still the world, something timeless and calm yet so tenderly desperate about it- she feels sad and happy all at once, and suddenly, to be alive- to be dying- seems... a simple, given, painfully temporary thing. It’s a sweet, naïve tune. A fool’s song.

It cuts short.

Razor-sharp static screams in search for a signal. The strumming abruptly stops in response. The radio. It’s automated to switch on when she wakes up.

Then comes a final telltale sigh from the foot of her bed, as some garish pop song resonates brokenly through white noise. Must be a storm, she thinks. Howling wind outside her window confirms it.

A weight rises from the mattress- one that wasn’t there the night before, and V furrows her brows, braving the daylight and turning onto her side to see the figure lifting from the bed.

Chrome fingers curl around the neck of the cheap electric guitar as they prop the instrument back against the bed. A swelling ache closes around Vana’s chest. Loneliness. Separated from him by inches. Feeling without the one bound to the inside of her skull- it's agony.

Johnny. He crosses the room towards the radio in an aimless stride, and he staggers, tired. Vana briefly wonders- occupying her maddened, longing mind with something else- if he’s even capable of feeling that way, or if it’s her own waking lethargy that he feels, that clings to him. It’s usually like that with most things. And he switches the radio off, back arched downwards to reach it. Static finally turns to silence. She sees the thick lock of hair hanging in his eyes, and how he moves it with a careless jerk of his head before sauntering back to the bed again; peculiarly, he’s not wearing the bulletproof vest over his Samurai tank- the projection of the exact same faded shirt she wears now- and without the seemingly invincible façade, he almost looks... normal. Himself, maybe. Of course, when he descends back down to the end of the bed again, the blue glitched fragments of his engram form give him away. Yet somehow, unlike most times, seeing it puts her mind at ease. Not dreaming, at least.

With his back to her, Johnny picks the guitar back up and slings it weightlessly over his knee again. Out of thin air, he materialises a cigarette in his mouth, which wavers absentmindedly between pursed lips as he tunes the guitar and tests each string; Vana watches and remains completely still in her warm, blanket cocoon, not intent on interrupting this rare moment of peace. The rain drums on smoothly. Johnny pauses to pull the cigarette from his mouth. Exhale. Smoke joins in dancing alongside dust motes around the room, and Vana is happy to be alive today.

Johnny adjusts a silver ring on a flesh finger before touching the guitar’s strings again. He hesitates, stops, then straightens himself out before strumming the first note.

And then, it’s as if he loses himself to it- effortlessly playing that same melancholy tune from before without fault, without a sliver of uncertainty. His ‘ganic hand glides along each string with meticulous ease, metal fingers sliding and spreading along each fret, and the bleak light of the storm glints off of each chrome knuckle as he coaxes the music out to fill the quiet. And it's just this. The way in which he messily perfects such a common, mundane art. An ageless, timeless thing. No ugly, restless hand of Night City can snatch this away from her. The way his wrist flicks back with each note, how his hair crowds his face again as he nods slowly along, the heel he fails to notice he’s tapping in rhythm on the floor. For a moment, Johnny Silverhand’s real name lingers like a song in the back of her mind, as distant and unknown as this one, and she wonders if the person at the foot of her bed is him, that fragmented man lost in time.

Alt had said that Soulkiller does exactly by its name, that the soul dies the moment the consciousness is extracted. But watching him now, Vana refuses to believe that the glitched apparition at the foot of her bed is void of that, that same soul that inhabited the real Johnny Silverhand, that this engram isn’t as tangible and complex and real and feeling as she herself is. This projection of him, an amalgamation of every conscious want, need, thought and whim of a man who once existed- and this projection, he wakes up before her, on a morning as cold and grey and miserable as this, and plays a song for no discernible reason at all other than simply wanting to. Feeling like it.

No soul. She could weep- there's soul in every string.

Vana jostles free of the blanket and pushes herself forward, shifting to her knees. Johnny’s old dogtags, a relic of his past that dangle around her neck, clink together with each steady movement she makes towards him- terrified he’d stop playing for even a second- and she sits cross-legged behind him, facing the slender, flexing muscles of his back as he strums. She hugs herself, cold, shivering. He keeps playing. It’s bliss. She’s overcome with a sudden indescribable fondness, so much so that were she any braver in her vulnerability, any kinder to her feeling self, she’d let it bring a tear to her eye.

But Vana can only muster turning her head to the side, and resting her lonely cheek against the center of his back, desperate to feel every single breath that comes and leaves his vague, digital body. Perhaps it’s her own warmth she feels, reflecting back at her from Johnny’s feelings and senses, but she swears she feels him, hot beneath her cheek as though he were flesh and blood. The illusion is just enough that she doesn’t slip through him entirely. Perhaps, this will simply do.

Yes... fleeting as it is, as all things are, this moment is just... okay.

The song ends. Johnny plucks the final string. The chord fades out into a low, droning hum, until all that’s left is the rain on the window, the torrid rolling of the storm, and his calm, firm breaths, moving against her.

She forgets she's dying. And she would happily fall asleep again, right here, with the very thing that kills her, drinking in the song he’s let steep in the silence around them. But he slowly lowers the guitar, his body shifting beneath Vana’s unflinching cheek. Eyes fluttering shut once more, she feels him twist as he turns around, and how he catches her body in slacked repose, and finally- almost as if he wants to, as if he cares- the tangled threading of cold, metal fingers through her hair, towing her under the dark dwelling of sleep once more.

“I got you.”