#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.

[afreakingdork]

Spring Break

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader One-Shot

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, POV Second Person, Friends to Lovers, Human/Turtle Relationships (TMNT), Yearning, Romance, Fluff, Romantic Fluff, One-Shot

Synopsis: You're on your first spring break of college and returning back home to NYC. Donnie has agreed to pick you up from the airport and the season of change is ready to exercise its rights upon your friendship with him.

Also available on Ao3

I cannot thank @tmntxthings enough! She took my half formed plot bunny and helped me finish it up and embellish it with the cutest ideas!! This fic would not exist without her and she gets my endless affection! 💞

Plane descent, it was the one part of flying that really felt like a roller coaster. With its little dips and adjustments, your stomach would rise in turn. It made some sick, but you found it exciting. It was a manifestation of coming home. With each drop in altitude you were a little bit closer and, no matter how people felt about plane rides, the excitement was palpable. Even those tired and exhausted, ready for their changeovers, were glad for a moment on the ground.

This was your stop and you were especially excited for what waited for you.

Clinging to your phone, there was a final announcement and you looked out the window. Watching fields and houses grow closer and closer, your heart alternatively soared. Ants took on definition and eventually you were doing the careful careen through buildings to land in LaGuardia. With a squeaky landing that jarred your body, people stood through the taxiing process which prompted fights with flight attendants.

You were back in New York City.

A fervor running throughout the plane, there was still the docking process and each second ticked by through syrup until you got a text.

Donatello, not to be confused with the famous Italian Sculptor: I am at the appropriate baggage claim.

It was a new entry in a sea of others that had you momentarily closing your eyes. You then typed out a response about what you’d endured since landing and Donnie kept you occupied with messages right up until it was time to deboard. Bumping and jostling and giving appropriate glares back, you were soon just shy of running down a tunnel. Just like descent, you were closing in by the moment and once you broke free from a certain pair of doors, you paused only to take stock. It was fate, you thought, that people parted and there he was.

Donatello stood bundled up both for some kind of anonymity and the early spring weather. A balmy cool outside, trees were clinging for a bit more warmth before they burst with color. You were going to miss the blossoms this time around, but you had a lifetime of watching the petals dot the otherwise dirty streets before. You always liked this season. There was a sense of change in the air. A metamorphosis, you saw not just the growth between your youth and now, but everything from the last half year. 

You were offered a full ride to a school all the way across the country. 

You accepted and left behind everything. 

The long days of your first semester would have been lonely if not for a certain purple coded turtle offering to marathon shows with you online.

You texted in the cafeteria until you found your crowd.

You continued to message him because he had to know the latest gossip.

A webcam was sent to you as a gift so you could better work on projects together across multiple state lines.

You clung to Donnie as a virtual lifeline through your first set of finals.

The Christmas holdover in California due to a lab opportunity had been a daunting choice. 

It was made all the better as you were given a digital spot at the Hamato family table during Thanksgiving and Christmas.

Then came another bout of studying for midterms. 

All to now, where he’d offered to pick you up after something had come up with your parents and you had complained of the taxi fare on your spring break budget.

You were in motion.

In fact, you were barreling towards him. He heard the footsteps, but didn’t connect them to your person as he looked up. Now knowing the source, he jammed his phone in his pocket and took on a sort of prepared alarm. Then, at the last second, he pivoted a foot out. A careful rotation, he lowered his stance into a readied one. It was all the confirmation you needed as you leapt.

He caught you at the same time for the hug and you crushed yourself to him. Momentum should have knocked the air out of you, but he swung. Your body twirled up with your heart and, by the time you were set down, you were groping to get more of him. This was new, you remembered. His scent wasn’t like coming home. You’d never been close enough to really get a whiff. Clinging to his worn hoodie didn’t crop up memories of softness because you had at most brushed it in passing.

You’d known this mutant for seven months and this was your first hug.

You wanted more.

Your only saving grace was he appeared to feel the same. For each tug, to get your arms tighter around his neck, he gave equal pressure around your waist. As you butted your head to his, he clawed into your own jacket, trying to get you that much closer.

It was warm.

It was overwhelming.

You didn’t want to let go.

“Hey.” You murmured against him.

“Greetings.” His voice responded. “How was your flight?”

“Good. Boring. Long.” You nuzzled closer.

“A full work day’s flight.” Donnie hummed, amused.

“Thanks for picking me up. It’s good to see you.”

Finally, after what must have been too long, Donnie pulled back enough to view you with a chide. “You as well.”

A little shy, your arms slipped to rest against his plastron and an announcement interrupted citing luggage. A quick check found you were at the right carousel and you sent Donnie a wry look. “We’re in the right place.”

“I was clear about my location.” He playfully rolled his eyes and reluctantly relinquished you to approach the long luggage circle.

You followed close behind and bumped arms with him. “Oh, there was this lady who would not stop yaking about the toast squares she got in that plane snack mix.”

“Ah, yes, the snack gacha.” Donnie chuckled and bags began to drift down the line.

He explained the odds and you walked him backwards through your trip. There was a gap from when you’d set off for your flight until arrival. He’d been on a video call when you’d packed your suitcase so when said luggage came winding down the metal slide, you didn’t need to say a thing. He knew it and hoisted it up where you shouldered your backpack. You’d returned with mostly things to wash, but you figured that was part of coming home.

You soon drifted away from the building. Working through the bustling drop offs zone, you headed to where Donnie had sequestered one of his vehicles. Parking cost too much for the tank, he settled on something visually low key though the interior was just as technologically stacked as the others. It was a resistance in temptation to press buttons on the dash you had never seen. They felt familiar as he’d taken you on a phone tour when he completed retrofitting the van, but it felt different in person.

Conversation took you home and, before you realized it, you were idling on the street.

Time had slipped through your fingers like water and you hadn’t cupped enough to drink. There’d even been traffic, you’d sat through it, but it hadn’t prolonged the journey. You were due inside. Your parents were waiting. You also would need to leave Donnie. He’d only ever been here to give you this ride. Heart sinking regardless, you moved to give Donnie your regards with a forlorn tilt of your head.

“Let me help you with your bag.” He rushed the statement.

Your eyes met.

You were both a little too eager to delay the inevitable.

“Thank you, I’d appreciate it.” You told him though your heart wanted to ask him over for dinner.

You’d already skipped coming home for winter break and there was no way your parents would allow an interloper to impede on catching up with their child.

You were required to spend time with them first, then friends.

Duty was a strange thing. It brought you home to mom even though you were an adult with a supposed choice. It had your friend hoisting your stuffed suitcase out of the back of a van where you had created the burden of the heft. You clicked up stairs, your luggage wheels hopping steps and Donnie felt the need to fill the space as if he were required to keep from giving you a moment of quiet.

You were thankful.

You didn’t want to think of how you’d miss him.

Again, he’d felt the same. 

You liked that about him.

Reaching your door, you knew you hadn’t messaged your parents for this same reason.

It was your own coveted surprise amongst what you had to do.

Donnie was careful in carting your suitcase up silently.

It felt like a stolen moment. “We still on for Wednesday?”

“Yes.” He nodded and pulled up a ninpo calendar for the sake of it. “Mikey has forewarned Señor Hueso and if you make April wait a moment more, I think she will strangle whoever is closest.”

“Of course.” You bobbed your head and felt the reminder of the knob.

You needed to go home.

You needed to see your parents.

You hadn’t seen them in so long.

You hugged Donnie.

Slower this time, you still moved quick enough that you avoided the awkward shuffle. It was an instant threading of bodies where you had to stave off a sigh. You fit so well without practice and his toned arms slung so comfortably around your waist. You bumped your head to his for the sake of closeness. He stilled and you thought it too much until he turned his beak to nuzzle the side of your head. From his inhale, he was catching your smell so you openly breathed him in the same.

Then you came apart, heads down, unable to bear to see the other leave as you mumbled out promises of seeing each other soon.

Donnie left by the sound of stairs and you unearthed your key to head inside.

Wednesday couldn’t come soon enough.

The rest of your Saturday had been a flurry of catching up with your folks. You were pelted with every question under the sun and the few phone calls with them you’d had throughout the school year seemed to have never happened. Your parents remembered none of the details no matter how much you whined about how you’d already told them about your class load. You were struck with backhanded comments about missing the holidays and how this cousin had proposed and that nephew had gone skiing and would you believe the tan your aunt got?

Then came sleeping in your old bed which was now a foreign one.

You called Donnie with your headphones on and he answered after only one ring.

Unable to stand the odd sheets, you curled up beside your window for faint outdoor light and watched Donnie on screen eat snacks as you unloaded about how annoying it all was. You loved your parents, but it was always something. He took his time in the conversation after your most heated complaints were air cooled and then subjected you to his own. His family’s separation anxiety was on another level, but he never made it a competition. You instead felt commiseration, even if the comparisons were outlandish.

Exhaustion took you to bed and the old smell of you drifted up like one you didn’t recognize. You were just tired enough to mention the discrepancy and Donnie made a comment on how you’d changed. You weren’t sure you had as you hadn’t felt like it, but you guessed of anyone, he would know best.

How had that come to be?

Your best friend was here and someone you’d known since elementary school. You still loved them, but they’d fallen to a certain wayside once Donnie appeared. Meeting him had been an accident at best. From senior year finals, you’d picked up a local coffee shop as your own. During summer, you switched to drinks for fun instead of necessity and a new barista started that you liked. She was great at conversation and better at upsizing drinks with a wink so you always made sure to tip. There came a day when you forgot to have cash on hand and you promised to come back by to fork it over. Now on a first name basis, April had scoffed it off, but you still returned after making change at a nearby bodega. It hadn’t been more than 20 minutes and yet she had disappeared. You waited for her to return from break only to notice a mutant was similarly off to the side and one you’d come to find was waiting for the same April. 

That was early August.

You’d gone to UC Berkeley in early September.

That was less than a month knowing the turtle in person.

Now you were drifting off to Donnie complaining about how he’d been found sneaking into East Laird’s lab yet again.

He just needed access to one chemical.

They wouldn’t miss it.

He’d doctored the supply sheets himself.

The janitor was paranoid.

You giggled and it must have come too late because he ordered you to sleep.

You told him you missed him.

In truth, you did.

He murmured the same along with a mention of Wednesday.

It wasn’t here yet.

Texting helped as Sunday led straight to a family meal with whoever was in town. You rehashed the exact same stories about school more times than you could count. Your scholarship was both held up like a heavyweight champ’s belt while others spoke to you like you were some Hollywood convert. It didn’t matter that there were six driving hours between the two places. You’d betrayed some inane state pride by going to a far flung college and whether that was a success or pompous choice was your family’s to debate.

You went to bed so angry afterward that you broke your 125 day streak of saying goodnight to Donnie.

You woke up under your old ceiling.

Breakfast reminded you of high school.

Dad had work.

Mom had lunch.

She talked and you listened.

You saw your best friend in the 3 o’clock doldrums.

It was awkward until it wasn’t.

It took about an hour, but you fell in line to your old pattern.

You meant to message your bestie more, but college had taken both of you in different directions.

Who’s this guy you keep mentioning? 

Donatello, was it?

Did you meet someone?

What a story that was and it came with a growing smile from your best friend. Each passing word felt like guilt off your lips and you were teased mercilessly.

No, stop that! We aren’t dating!

Why would you ask?

It’s perfectly normal to help a friend out like he did.

Yes, we’re close.

Not that close.

He’s a nice guy.

Yes, really nice, what are you insinuating?

It wasn’t like that.

You wanted to call Donnie on your way home.

Your best friend’s words kept you from it.

Tuesday your dad had off from work and, though they took you, you ended up showing your parents around Prospect Park. Where they’d only heard it was nice, you had seen enough from social media to actually maneuver it. You picked a restaurant they hated and then a bakery they loved. You were nagged incessantly and then pestered.

Tell us about your new college friends!

You don’t sound like you have many, what happened?

Oh, whos’ that?

Tell me more!

Are they nice?

Go to any crazy parties? We won’t judge.

They did.

They judged everything.

You kept Donatello’s name out of your mouth, though he appeared with each question.

He kept you sane.

He had been there for you.

He made things better.

You texted him as you ran to a bathroom stall for a moment of peace.

Donatello, not to be confused with the famous Italian Sculptor: Hard to go back after your taste of freedom?

It was such a him response. 

Donatello, not to be confused with the famous Italian Sculptor: Tomorrow, you’ll have us.

Donatello, not to be confused with the famous Italian Sculptor: Don’t worry.

Donatello, not to be confused with the famous Italian Sculptor: Until then, say the word and I can call you away with a lab emergency.

Donatello, not to be confused with the famous Italian Sculptor: I know the codes for several. Do not ask why.

It helped as you rejoined your parents.

One more day.

Wednesday morning and afternoon were tedious affairs with little to do outside of the dreaded laundry. You aired and disinfected your suitcase and ended up cleaning for the sake of it. It made your mom happy and you prepped ingredients for your parent’s dinner even though you wouldn’t be partaking. It would be another nicety in hopes that they wouldn’t say a word when you stayed out late.

It wasn’t like you had a curfew, but you knew the biting remark would be there.

You left just before your parents got home so you sent messages to both of them to cover your bases. Their sent confirmation was like a final school bell and you were running down stairs at an alarming pace. Donnie’s text window appeared next and you shot out a message about your imminent arrival. You felt a buzz in response and wound an oddly familiar path to the necessary sewer grate. One prepped for access to the turtle’s tunnel, you climbed down and only then brought up a map. Above was one thing as you knew your local streets, but the journey below was one you’d never had time to memorize. Donnie’s map was clear and as you switched from sewer to subway lines, you soon came to the brighter lights of the lair.

The Hamato were piled in the living room and you saw Donnie amongst the bale.

He smiled, but it was Mikey who wrapped around you.

Your name was shouted and it summoned the others who hadn’t been paying as much attention. You got friendly pats, several more squeezes from Mikey, one bear hug from April, and a litany of pelted words from the others. Leo’s Hollywood comment didn’t sting as much because he pulled it out in a reference to Son in Law. He did a pretty good Pauly Shore impression and your praise had him pulling out more impersonations. As the chides and jokes flew, you thought about how they hadn’t pelted you with a million and one questions about your college life. They cared little about class and only if you’d had time to catch any local movies or shows.

You nearly wept at not having to talk about only the studious side of your life and you got to share a movie you recently streamed with Donnie. The others hadn’t known either of you watched it and you both excitedly regaled them on reasons not to without spoiling anything. You laughed about a plot line of having been plucked from their environment and joked about red squirrels. Donnie responded in kind about grey and you both laughed until you realized you were the only ones.

“What’s that about?” April asked where she was folded over a couch beside Raph.

“O-oh, it’s-!” You choked on giggles and held onto Donnie’s arm since he was close.

“You see, there was this inane test question that kept coming up.” Donnie filled in for you.

“Non-native grey squirrels have basically put native red ones on the endangered list!” You spoke with too much levity for the topic.

“Now this is a known ecological issue, but the way the professor framed the question…?” Donnie shook his head with a smile.

“He made it out to be like a gang war! So-so Donnie made this joke because they always, freaking always run out of breakfast in the caf when I get out of my morning class about my territory being disrupted!” You giggled.

Donnie bumped you to chastise. “Wait, you’re leaving out your classmate who runs to beat you there, your grey squirrel!”

“Omigosh! I don’t even know her name!” You cracked up.  

“You’ve yet to mention the actual campus grey squirrel!” Donnie pressed.

You laughed harder. “Omigosh, he hates me and anyone that goes near his door on South Hall!!”

You both hurled more examples that fit into your branching squirrel joke and you thought everyone was having a good time until Raph’s voice cut through. “Sounds like a good inside joke.”

You weren’t immediately sobered, but your giggles grew strange.

“Yeah, I’m not getting it, but hey that happens.” Leo shrugged. “Squirrels aren’t my first comedy punching bag.”

“They’re cute! What do you mean they kill each other!?” Mikey had a watery expression. “To extinction!? How could they!?”

April patted his back. “It’s a dog eat dog world.”

“Is that why we were the Mad Dogz?” Leo looked to Raph.

“No, but I’m going to say yes.” Raph shined back a snaggletoothed grin.

With that the others moved on.

Suddenly feeling painfully self-conscious, you shirked and felt that Donnie’s hand behind your back.  

You looked up at him and he had a grin and whisper waiting for you. “These dum-dums don’t know good comedy.”

“You are the funny one.” You softened up and, in an instant, felt reassured.

He pressed lightly for you to join the room and you jumped back into the conversation which had moved onto pigeons. A hotly debated topic, you took sides and spouted facts you had learned in class. Memes were then shared and eventually you went to Hueso’s. The rowdiest table for what was a comical argument about whether they were his favorite customers, the skeleton yokai refused to answer and only spoke of cash spent and tabs to be paid. Leo chased the man into the kitchen to be his usual intrusive self and you stayed present in table conversation the best you could.

It was difficult when Donnie kept sending you reaction images based on said speech and you found it impossible not to reach right for your phone so each joke would land fresh. It eventually meant both of you were side by side texting on another and it was only when the food came did you jar out of it.

“Can’t leave your significant others for even a second?” Mikey jeered before he tapered off. “Though I kind of thought it was you that Donnie was texting… But that’d be weird right!? You’re literally sitting together, why text?” He laughed. 

Others laughed.  

You and Donnie didn’t. 

It spurned April to steal Donnie’s phone.

Some kind of betrayal, Donnie nearly flipped the table to get it back, but the flash of screen April had seen was enough.

You two were outed and ruthlessly drilled.

This was supposed to be fun, you thought to yourself as you tried to field lobs. They weren’t supposed to be rude like your family and yet you were back to fending vultures off. 

Yes, you spent hours talking.

No, you weren’t dating.

Yes, you texted.

No, it wasn’t because it was a secret conversation.

Yes, you were just friends.

No, you weren’t more.

It was only when Leo reappeared and saw the distress mounting on you and Donnie did he step up in his leader position and caught the table’s attention by the throat. He laid out a new topic in the form of recent battles and that conversation took the heat off. You sighed into the booth, feeling particularly drained and when Leo shoved in to have more seat, it bumped you right into Donnie.

Donnie made room, but his hand stayed on the seat, close to yours.

You tapped a questioning finger to his. 

Your heart was heavy.

Were you wrong?

Was your friendship weird?

Donnie had gotten you through moving across the country.

Donnie had done so much.

You really, really liked him.

His finger curled around yours for reassurance.

You’d asked once hadn’t you?

Something about if you bothered him early on since you talked just about constantly.

Donnie had scoffed by saying the word itself and told you that he put forth as much effort as he cared to.

You’d be the first to know if he was displeased.

He’d been honest.

When you complained about a science he liked, he didn’t care how hard the class was, you got an earful.

One of the few times you’d tried to use him as an excuse not to study, he’d hung right up and temporarily blocked you so you’d be forced to.

Your hands moved and, with a rush of your pulse, you tucked your other fingers up and over his.

He held your hand with one and ate pizza with his other as if nothing strange had occurred.

You did the same and spoke more normality by responding to something Mikey said.

It was taken with its own retort and everything felt right.

“I’m stuffed!” April flopped back and her jacket slunk down lazily on her shoulders.

“Can’t… move…” Raph groaned.

“That’s what happens when you are here for four hours and thirty seven minutes ordering non-stop.” Hueso commented as he picked up several empty pizza trays.

“One for the road?” Leo burped.

“Depends…” Hueso cracked a brow and slid over the check.

Leo flicked his eyes down once and then over to his tablemates where everyone dodged the question.

“Maybe next time.” Leo spoke guilt and Hueso hummed knowingly as he departed. “Split time! Cough it up!”

Complaints were loud as all sorts of money was deposited on the table.

“I love and hate catching up!” Leo crooned once an appropriate amount was placed. 

“We were literally here four days ago.” Raph didn’t have the energy to eye his brother.

“Bah!” Leo swung a lethargic arm and it flopped on the table.

“No more pizza for… four more days…” Mikey grunted.

“Heh, you guys’s diet sucks.” April chuckled and fell over into Mikey on purpose.

The youngest squeaked and dominoed into Raph who shouldered the weight without moving.

“We’ll see you again, what? Friday, right?” Leo craned his head toward you.

Leo was dismissing you. 

It was late. 

This had been the plan. 

Two days.

Donnie squeezed your hand.

You had never let go.

“Well…” You tried to respond.

“You know!” Donnie cut through conversation as if he hadn’t heard how it was coming to a close. “Remember how we weren’t able to find Jupiter Jim and His Majesty Cromslor anywhere online?”

The table quieted and you looked to Donnie curiously. “Oh yeah… We missed it in our marathon.”

“I purchased a copy then, but it only came in a few days ago.”

“That took…” You flicked up a few fingers to count. “Months!?”

“Oversees. Probably a boot leg, but it does indeed work.” Donnie smiled at you.

You felt a flutter in your gut. “We should-”

“Watch it now?” His brows bobbed. “Well everyone?” Donnie looked out, carefree to his inebriated brethren. “Movie night?”

“I’m sleeping!” Raph announced. “Don’t wake me and we’re good.”

“But Don…!” Leo’s head fell onto where his arm was still on the table.

“I could watch.” Mikey’s shoulders bobbed beneath April.

“I’m out. Got work.” April yawned.

“Then it’s settled.” Donnie turned back to you. “Not that we needed permission.”

You chewed on a giggle. “Can’t wait.”

Everyone else dragged themselves back to the lair, but you and Donnie took up the rear as you discussed some lab work. Delving into the study you’d monitored over winter break and what came of it, you were soon sat around the projector where Splinter was asleep in his chair. Raph used the last of his energy carting his dad off to bed and Mikey settled into a bean bag with commands to turn his head towards the screen. Leo helped in that matter and set himself up with his phone in hand to hang out more than watch. You and April said your goodbyes and then Donnie joined you on the couch. Raph didn’t return until well past the first quarter of the movie, but didn’t seem to mind as he flopped down to watch a film presumably the family had seen many times before.

The room was filled with the quiet sounds of the movie until Donnie leaned into you. Your shoulders brushing, he whispered to you a fun fact about the movie that gave way to more. With your head turned against the cushion, you eventually stopped watching the film to instead stare at him. He was enthralling. His lips moved with specific enunciation that you knew came from his love of pizzazz. He topped it off with eloquence from IQ and his flair was infectious no matter how emotionless he tried to present himself.

You adored him.

The credits rolled and there was light after movie discussion where you all found Raph had fallen asleep as promised. Donnie regaled you in his theories on how this movie affected the larger Jupiter Jim universe while he threw a blanket over his older brother. Leo pitched in a few notes about his comic knowledge, but no matter how obsessed the Hamatos’ were in this film series, there was still a limit of how much conversation could be shared.

“Welp!” Leo announced, coming down from a stretch.

That was the second final call of the night.

You had already overstayed your welcome.

You pulled out your phone to text your parents.

Donnie touched your wrist. “Before I forget, I finished my latest project. That targeted hearing device.”

You slowed. “Oh yeah, were you able to work out that model on how it decides what to filter?”

“Yes, in fact, I had a breakthrough-!”

“You finished that two nights ago right? When you were pacing in that fit?” Leo interrupted.

Mikey perked up. “Oh yeah, you were so upset, but you wouldn’t say why! If it was just because you were doing your usual tech walk things, then why not tell us?”

Donnie had obvious guilt and raised his hands.

You stared. 

Two nights ago was when you hadn’t been able to text him goodnight.

You were in motion and interjected yourself with force into the fray. “Show us!”

Leo and Mikey looked at you curiously.

You tried not to balk. “It was for you guys too! It will help you gather intel on missions!”

“I thought it was just for your goggles or business people who never take their Bluetooth out, even at dinner parties?” Leo quizzed Donnie.

“The applications are wide ranging! Why do you think I patented it?” Donnie held his head haughtily and headed toward his lab.

The line there went first Donnie and Leo paired where Donie was putting his all into convincing Leo of his inventions use and then you and Mikey who trailed behind in a conversation of your own. 

You weren’t sure, but you thought the blue brother glanced at you twice.

Mikey regaled you on a video game he had recently beat and, by the time you entered the lab, Donnie was in full presentation mode. A space you had only been in virtually, Donnie walked everyone to where the buds were and tried them on Leo first since he was the naysayer. They proved to work nicely as you and Mikey played examples by moving around the lab to make noise for the technology to hone in on.

You remembered locations from your guided tour, but definition had been sparse over the phone. Now here and moving about, gadgets kept catching your eye. Donnie explained them with quips from his brothers about use or malfunction. You heard all manner of stories and saw a part of Donnie you had yet to see. Donnie was quick to hang up if his brothers tried to intervene, but he was no stranger to complaining about them. You felt like you knew them better than you did because of it, but seeing the brothers in action was something else entirely.

They carried through, soon fatiguing of reminiscing and giving space for Donnie to show off his more successful tech. He shined, putting his best foot forward in a way you assumed he prepared for investor meetings. He eventually let you examine his bo staff and demonstrated how it could be reformed within his ninpo. He was detailing how his schematics process had changed since acquiring his mystic powers when Leo suddenly yelled up to the ceiling.

“Nope! Beep, beep, beep! Hear that? That’s my brain at full capacity! No more! No more science for Leon! Honk-shoo! Bedtime alarm.” Leo threw his arms up and seemed ready to spin around to leave before he caught sight of you. “Great seeing you, by the way. We’ll be seeing you, but not again tonight! Later, losers!”

You all watched Leo walk out.

Mikey saw his own chance to pull away.

The youngest did nothing distinctly, but you could tell he was ready to head to bed himself.

You had been together for hours now and it was definitely the AM of the next day.

You needed to text your parents.

You needed to go home.

You’d see Donnie again.

You had one last time before you flew back across the country.

You got your phone in hand and messaged your parents to check in.

“Michael.” Donnie held his own anxiety. 

That meant both remaining brothers were ready for you to go. 

Having already proved to your parents you were alive, you moved to next pen a message about how you’d be home soon.  

“Huh?” A bubble popped on Mikey’s attention.

“Have you checked the time?” Donnie moved away from you. 

Looking up your screen found the time at 2:47am.

“Oh ho!” Mikey sang with scandalous purpose. 

You paused and looked up to see him sporting a huge grin. 

“I get what you’re putting down, brotha! It is the one and only reserved time for my most exclusive dish!” Mikey moved fluidly through a few poses. 

“Yes.” Donnie looked pointedly at you. “You might have heard of it.” 

You blinked a few times not realizing some kind of ploy was in motion. “Special time…?” 

Sliding to the right, Mikey’s whole body dipped below his raised arms. “It is time for my unmatched, out of control, unparalleled 3am dump nachos!” 

A memory slapped you across the hippocampus. 

You did remember. 

Mikey had sprung them on Donnie when he was helping you study for finals last year. 

The Mikey of the present then snapped to attention in a business-like manner. “Proprietary reserved and guaranteed to eradicate night munchies.”   

Your phone buzzed and beckoned with annoyed responses from your mom. 

You’d thankfully never sent that message about heading back. 

She knew you were doing alright, that was enough. 

You closed your phone. “Who am I to say no to the clock!?” 

“Nacho time!?” Mikey turned to confirm with the last party. “That was what you wanted, right?” 

“Yes.” Donnie tried to stave off a certain amount of joy. “Nacho time.”

“Woo!” Mikey started to holler but caught himself off to whisper. “Quieter woo because people are sleeping!”

You all filed down to the kitchen where Mikey took point in commanding his own cooking show. Talking about all his past chip and cheese related mishaps, he walked through pantry staples  and what wasn’t for good nachos. Donnie settled in by your side and eventually grabbed a few drinks. The pair of you mingled together, sharing little glances amongst Mikey’s display until the nachos were in the oven for a quick melt session.

“Oh man, this was a great idea.” Mikey looked at Donnie approvingly. “I can’t remember the last time we did 3am nachos.”

You did, but you kept quiet. 

“Probably after April’s midnight launch at that movie theater.” There was an air to Donnie that said he was purposefully making something up.

“Eugh, was it one of those ones where they watch like six movies back to back?” Mikey made a face.

“Are those marathons bad?” You asked.

“They are when you can’t pause and do stuff like this.” Mikey gestured around the kitchen.

“Helps to be allowed an oven.” Donnie cocked a brow at you.

“It’s not my fault someone started a fire in the dorms a few years ago.” You shot a smarmy look back.

“Finesse.” Donnie’s fingers came up to floss the word.

“This again!” You rolled your eyes.

“The rules are in place to protect! As long as you don’t violate them obviously, then I don’t see the problem.”

“Your homemade oven thing was way sketchier!”

“You could make it out of all the materials you had on hand! It’s completely safe!”

“Just because one can, doesn’t mean one should!”

“Look! I can recreate it now! You never tried.” Donnie went for a junk drawing and came back with supplies. “The most you needed was wire, then a containment unit, easy enough to build…”

Donnie nearly pressed to your side as he cut and created a wire and then spliced it with a battery. Showing you how to then encase the coils, he asked for your help holding something in place. You did so and he eventually came around with electrical tape to bind his creation. He complained about how soldering should be allowed if hot glue guns were. You spoke against that point and your hands brushed. He scoffed at live flames and slipped his arm through yours in lieu of reaching for a piece of plastic that had rolled away. You pressed into him and told him that with that logic you could simply weld.

“Couldn’t you?” Donnie’s face was near yours.

“I’d need…” You reached up and his cheek tipped into your hand as you activated the release on his goggles as you’d seen him do on video.

His lenses came down and you were close enough to see through them to his eyes beneath.

“… something like this.”

“I see… Safety first…” Donnie murmured, leaning in.

“Mhm…” You mirrored him.

A timer dinged and you jolted apart.

“3am nachos!” Mikey came around with oven mitts as if oblivious. “After hearing both your arguments, I’m gonna go with no homebrewing ovens in the dorms. It looks like you’re building a bomb.” He set the tray down and the smell was undeniably delicious.

You might have enjoyed it more had your heart not been pounding out your ears.

“To the uneducated, perhaps!” Donnie grumbled and looked over the spread.

You moved to better reach and heard Mikey talk about the best constructed bite.

What were you doing?

You had almost kissed Donnie.

If that was what just happened.

Donnie.

You had a nacho in hand.

Donnie.

What you had to label as your newest best friend.

Donnie.

Not a replacement, but an embellishment.

Donnie.

Next to you, the man in question said something about guacamole.

He helped you through your semesters.

You still had 10 more after the current one.

Four total years.

That didn’t include masters which you aimed on getting.

On the other side of the states.

As far as possible in the continental US.

That was only the grand scale. 

On a minor one, you’d be back there in only four days time. 

You’d barely seen Donnie.

You’d also arguably spent more time with him in just seven months then you had lifetimes with some of the people you still happily called friends, but 90% of that time had been through an internet connection.

Donnie.

A chip entered your mouth and it tasted so good you wanted to weep.

It certainly wasn’t for any other reason.

Mikey’s cooking was that good.

Eating.

Eating was happening.

You tried to tune into what Donnie and Mikey were discussing.

Donnie had put his goggles back up on his head.

His eyes looked pretty as he talked to his brother.

They always seemed lazy in expression, but they caught so much.

They also took in nothing if he didn’t care to look.

He’d been looking at you.

Right through that red and blue glass.

The make-up of purple.

Mikey hummed an exhausted note. “Oh man… 5am already? Sun’s gonna be up soon…”

“That late?” Donnie asked absently.

At least your parents had gone to bed and wouldn’t hassle you.

They might because you were absolutely going to get home after they woke up for the day.

That was less than ideal.

You also had lunch plans.

What were you doing?

“I’m hitting the hay!” Mikey announced even though you were sure he’d said other things. “Hug for the road!”

Mikey hugged you and you were sure you hugged back.

“Finish those off or whatever. They don’t keep so toss ‘em! Night, D!”

“Night.” Donnie spoke.

Alone.

You were alone with Donnie.

You’d been avoiding this hadn’t you?

Both of you had. 

“Still hungry?” Donnie spoke timidly.

“Sure.” You had barely had any.

You worked through building that perfect bite Mikey talked about and then went for some salsa Mikey had whipped up.

Donnie was right there with his own chip and your knuckles brushed.

You both froze and looked at each other.

You saw it all there.

The budding feelings.

The long distance.

The fear.

The longing.

“It’s too soon…?” Donnie broke away to look at the sheet pan. “Don’t you think?”

You did.

You know you did.

You were weepy as you nodded and ate more than necessary just because the taste helped abate the sadness.

Donnie offered to take you home in his own melancholy.

You’d barely experienced college.  

You were so young.

In spite of knowing him so well, it wasn’t enough.

When he pulled over on the empty morning curb outside your apartment, sunlight was peering in on your exchange.

What would you do?

How would you say goodbye?

“Walk me to the door?” You asked.

“Of course.” He put the van into park and turned it off.

You walked side by side in silence up the stoop.

The moment you were both on the same level, you hugged him. Hard into his middle you squeezed him for all he was worth. Not to be outshined, you were similarly scooped. Donnie created a protective outer layer where his face buried down into the top of your head. You both siphoned as much of each other off as you could feeling like it would be the last.

Was that right?

It didn’t feel like it, but for right now it was hard to parse anything.

It was exciting to be close to him.

You hadn’t known when he offered to give you a ride that you’d tackle him right out of your airport gate.

You’d never hugged before that. 

You’d never touched at all as far as you could remember. 

All of this was sudden.

Too soon.

You rooted your face into Donnie’s plastron. “I’ll still see you Friday?”

“You’ll see me tomorrow if available.”

You blinked up wide right out of his chest.

“You’re on break. I want to make the most of it.”

This time you threw your arms around his neck and he hoisted you up into the hug. You laughed into it until he set you back down and your heads bumped together. Sting moving to cradle, you lingered against one another. You felt more then, how you were rushing. You were jumping to conclusions. You were deciding years down the line before being present in your own moment.

Too soon.

“Dinner.”

“It’s a date.”

You entered your apartment on a cloud nine bubble that even your parents couldn’t pop. It prevailed through your mother’s nagging and you finally catching blissful shut eye. You barely made your lunch appointment with your friend and were disheveled for it. They laughed at you and joked about a rough night. The unsuspecting victim who just happened to ask the wrong question at the right time, you unloaded on them. Not usually the type of friend for long talks, they took it in stride and came out like an MVP.

They gave you advice on how to proceed and shared how they themselves were doing long distance.

It wasn’t for everyone.

You were young.

You needed to prioritize you.

There was also a certain amount of trusting your gut.

All a tricky balance, you came away feeling optimistic and closer to your friend than before.

You also crashed as soon as you got home and had a screaming match with your mom when she returned from work to find you in bed. It was enhanced by you not telling her about your dinner plans, but it all felt like a certain amount of stride. It was par for the course with growing pains of your adulthood and you got yourself gussied up amongst it. Donnie came to get you and you felt whisked away where your dad sent you off in good humor.

You wished he fielded your mom, but you guessed you could only ask so much.

Your date was a romantic one. Dictated by closeness, you counted in touch. There were brushes to the hands that morphed to holds. He’d pressed your back to indicate he wanted to pull your chair out and would eventually pull you to his side when some drunk adults stormed by on the sidewalk. You snuggled close to him during a concession selection and later would rest your head on his shoulder during a movie. Afterwards when you lingered for a walk in twinkling night lights you spoke your feelings into reality and what to do.

You’d wait.

It was too soon.

There was so much more to see.

You didn’t feel sad about anything other than not being able to kiss him when he brought you home.

Those hugs were hard enough to break apart from.

Friday then came and went and this time you felt fully present amongst the Hamato. Sunita and Casey joined for a rowdy bunch and you felt strong enough to take over the entire city. You also were always placed by Donnie’s side whether it be by both your conscious choices or simply your draw to one another which earned some ire. Unlike the last hang out, you were validated and both breezily brushed it off with knowing smiles. That brought more confusion, but any and all were left guessing what your relationship was.

Your family and a huge friend group hangout took Saturday.

Then you packed with Donnie on a video call.

It was just like a week ago, but wholly new.

You wished him a somber goodnight and right before hanging up he asked to drop you off.

You would have to fend off your parents, but you decided you could oblige.

There was little complaint as the next morning your mom asked you point blank who the boy was. You admitted to them the events of the last seven months, mutation and all, which they took in various stages. What your dad heard mostly was your loneliness and how this guy had gone above and beyond to make you feel less so. That was enough for him and in a stern decision, he refused to be moved. It left your mom high and dry outside the marriage unit and she eventually sighed to dreamily say that was why she loved your father.

Comparisons were then made between them and your relationship with Donnie and you shut that down as quickly as you could.

Donnie was then there and in an impromptu parents meeting.

He was surprisingly adept at it and you had a feeling he was aware this would happen. You ended up drilling him on the way to the airport where he admitted he prepared for at least seven possible scenarios regarding him butting in on the airport drop off. He regaled you in them all until you were sick of his preparations and you were at the airport.

He walked you as far as he could.

You hugged.

It should have been scented with desperation, you thought.

Instead, it felt like a promise.

With the same clingy digging, he gave equal pressure to your waist as you gave his head. He clawed your back and you pulled at his mask tails. It caught puffs of laughter from both of you as you drank each other in. You knew his scent now, a specific one you wished to curl up in. You’d remember prolonging time together even when you talked to him on the phone, presumably as soon as you landed. You’d be exhausted and want to shower, but you’d make time. You liked to give it just as he’d do the same.

You parted.

With smiles that were plump with tears unshed, you waved to him and he lingered as long as he could. You thought he even might have continued past that and used his goggles for some x-ray business. In case he did, you metered your steps and kept looking back to send him more grins to log. He probably had a thousand already from the calls or even this week, but you’d give more. You boarded a plane and spring break ended.

Across the country you flew.

Back to school.

Back to work.

Through summer and an internship.

Opportunity and papers.

Talk of job and studies galore.

Late night calls and walls of text.

A flurry of messages.

Arguments.

Cold shoulders.

Apologies.

Fall Semester.

Winter break.

Spring Semester.

Spring break.

Rinse and repeat. 

Donnie became your only airport ride. No matter when you came, everyone knew he was designated. It became common knowledge as much as anything else. As much as your friendship, everyone knew that was to be expected.

You grew.

Four years passed.

You found yourself yet again coming into LaGuardia on the cusp of spring. You had plans for furthering education on this side of the country. California had been nice, but Donnie had mentioned a study once that stuck with you. Eight in ten adults lived within 100 miles of where they grew up. It seemed like such a silly statistic four years ago when you’d made your college choice. You weren’t sure if you necessarily understood now, but there was a certain comfort in knowing you’d be in New York for the foreseeable future.

It helped that you grew up in such an amazing city.

What a town, Donnie would say reverent regardless of whether it was bad or good.

Shouldering your bag, you walked out to baggage claim. While the spot may have changed and the man was still growing like a weed, Donnie would still always appear to you between crowd waves. A sort of fate, he’d part pedestrians like the sea and he looked up from where he was tinkering with something on his gauntlet.

A smile spread on his face and he was in motion.

You had to keep up.

A hop and a skip and you collided in a spin. Twirling out for the sake of it, you both murmured affections until he rooted your face out from his shoulder. There he dipped you first for the sake of flair, but brought you up to properly execute what came next.

Your hands tucked behind his neck.

He locked his arms around your waist.

His gaze poured over you. 

You tugged him lightly as he was taking his time.

He was hovering, no doubt committing all of this to memory.

You didn’t fault him; you had started dating a few weeks ago.

He’d blurted out the question saying he was unable to wait until spring break or even until you graduated with your undergrad. 

You were long past first kiss territory, but this would be the first with the label.

“Donatello.”

“Not to be confused with the famous Italian sculptor.” He staunchly said the same thing he had since the moment he’d first introduced himself. 

“Please.”

“Please what?” He jeered.

“Kiss me, dum-dum.” You pulled him as hard as he’d allow and he snuck in a laugh before your lips met.

You would always appreciate this time of year for its change.

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[syn4k]

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!

[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.

[laffy-taffy-creations]

Day 12!

This fic was cross-posted on AO3 here

Bedtime

Red | Insomnia | "I'm up, I'm up"

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Words: 611

Warnings: insomnia, sleep deprivation, refusal to sleep

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Pssst, you up?”

I turned around in my chair to the person standing in my doorframe. It was Ochako.

“Sure am, what are you doing at my dorm?” I asked.

She looked sheepish, “Well, I couldnt sleep and your door was open so…”

I gestured for her to come in. She stepped in and shut the door.

“So… what are you doing awake?” she asked.

“Chronic insomnia. You?”

She yawned. “Just couldn’t fall asleep. Felt lonely.”

“Well, now you have me. Sit.” I patted space on the bed and turned back to what I originally had been working on.

She complied and I heard the rustling of sheets. When I looked back over she had tucked herself into my bed.

I must have been wearing a weird expression because she said “Well if you’re not gonna use it I might as well.”

I shrugged. Her reasoning was sound enough.

“Are you sure you should be working without sleep?”

“Hush. I’m fine. Besides, what else am I gonna do?”

“Lay down. Cook something. Watch TV. Scroll online. Not work.”

“If you want to do those things you can but I like what I’m doing.”

She shifted a bit trying to get a better look. “What are you working on anyways?”

“Not important.”

“You’re… building something?” she guessed.

“What of it?” I asked, trying to get back to the wiring.

“How long has it been since you last slept?” her tone becoming increasingly concerned.

“Days, but who’s counting?” I responded, trying to attach one of the transmitters so there could be communication between each of the masks.

“OV if you’re being serious right now-”

“Since when have I been known to joke about serious topics?” I cut her off.

She simply stared at me while I finished attaching all the new components to one of the masks and set it to the side. As soon as it was fully out of my hands she lunged forward and smacked me on the arm, activating her quirk.

“Ocha!” I shouted.

She didnt respond. Instead, she floated me to the bed, flopped on top of me, and situated the blanket. “You’re not fucking moving until the sun rises you got it you idiot?” She said in a stern voice.

I sighed and struggled for a bit to free both my arms so I could take off my mask. She smirked, knowing she won and snuggled in closer.

She managed to fall asleep in about 10 or 20 minutes, meanwhile I was still trapped under her for the next several hours.

I heard an alarm go off, apparently hers. She started to stir and reached to where she left her phone to turn it off.

“Mmmmmvee?” she mumbled.

“I’m up, I’m up.”

She made some sort of incoherent noise and stretched.

“Morning sleeping beauty,” I greeted her.

“Mornin’ Vee…” she yawned. “Wait… were you up… all night?” she slurred, trying to rub the tired out of her eyes.

“Mhm. You trapping me here didnt do anything, hate to disappoint.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You need to see a doctor. Now.”

I hummed in acknowledgment and got up, swiping my mask from the side of the bed and putting it on.

“I’m serious. Go see a doctor, or a nurse. You know we’re not in America right? It wont cost you anything to go see RG, go fucking see her.”

“Ochako. It is currently like 6 in the morning. I am not bursting into her office at an ungodsly hour such as this.”

“Fine,” she sighed, exasperated. “But I am forcing you to see her after classes, got it?” she demanded.

I chuckled and nodded. “Whatever you say…”

[lostintrost]

Kinktober Day 3 : Punishment - Connie Springer

Pairing: Connie Springer x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.1K

Summary: You decide to punish your boyfriend Connie for ignoring your needs.

Warnings: Minors/Ageless blogs DNI 18+, explicit language, cockwarming

Masterlist : AO3 : Wattpad

⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ✿ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹

“I’m gonna get online and play with Jean and Eren, baby.”

As badly as you wanted to protest, you gave in. You had to remind yourself daily that the move to Marley left Connie feeling a little lonely sometimes. He had left all of his remaining friends behind, following you when you got an opportunity to work at your dream job.

With him recently enrolling back into school, the two of you had gotten less time together and it was starting to take a toll on your relationship. You tried to plan date nights every week, but most of them would end up with Connie forgetting all about them, him being too deep in studying for whatever exam he had that week.

Your sex life with your boyfriend was almost nonexistent at this point. It had to have been over a month since the last time he initiated sex, and even then it was just a quickie since the boys wanted him to get online right after. You remember how you felt that night, crying yourself to sleep because you were tired of feeling like his second priority.

Glancing at the clock on the tv, the big white letters read 1:30 AM. You roll your eyes in annoyance, shutting your laptop loudly as you stand up from the couch.

“I’m gonna play games with the boys tonight, baby,” you mutter in a mocking tone. “Fucking six hours later though? So fucking stupid.” 

Your legs take you to your shared bedroom, stopping outside of the office along the way to listen to Connie play his game. 

“Dude! What the fuck! Jaeger you’re so fucking bad at this!”

Connie was never a quiet man when it came to anything. A giggle emits from your mouth as a memory comes to your thoughts of the time he almost got the two of you evicted back in Paradis. What had started out as a simple game of Uno between your friend group had ended in Jean and Connie screaming in each others’ faces claiming each other to be the biggest cheater in the game. At the time, you were absolutely mortified at the thought of being almost evicted, but now you can stand in the hallway of your 3 bedroom house and laugh about it.

As you walk away from the door, Connie continues his rant about how Eren is the worst Call of Duty player he’s ever seen, making you laugh the rest of the way to your bedroom. Connie would normally be waiting for you in bed by the time you got there, but all that greets you is a dark quiet room. You sigh to yourself as you sit on the edge of the bed.

Your eyes find the mirror that was placed at the foot of the bed. Immediately your brain starts to pick apart the little imperfections that you see - your eye bags make it look like you haven’t slept in weeks, your thighs look bigger than normal, etc. You know it’s not healthy to think this way, but when Connie is ignoring you it’s easy to think the worst of yourself.

“What the fuck am I even doing?” you mutter to yourself, trying to kick yourself out of your funk.

You glance in the direction of your closet, an idea forming as you see a red lace two piece set peaking out from the row of clothes. Your feet move in that direction without hesitation, your brain deciding to make Connie regret ignoring you as much as he had been recently.

Clothes are quickly discarded on the floor as you slip the garment onto your body. As you tighten the corset and strap the leggings to the bottoms, you find yourself staring at yourself in the mirror again - this time your brain is not picking apart your body.

“Time to make him regret being such a dick.”

As you make your way down the hall to the office, you attempt to put yourself into your dominant space. It was so easy for you to submit to Connie and his ways, but tonight that wouldn’t be happening.

Connie’s yelling filters into the hallway as you open the door revealing the mostly dark room, the only light coming from the computer screen in front of him. His headset volume is turned up to max volume, making him completely unaware that you’ve made your way over to him. Your hands caress his shoulders, making him jump from the unexpected contact.

“What the fuck, y/n!” he yells, muting his headset and turning in your direction.

His eyes go wide when he sees the two-piece you’ve picked out, a small smirk showing on your face when you see his reaction. You trail your hands down his clothed chest as his hands find your waist.

“I miss you,” you say quietly, hoping he would get the hint.

“I know baby,” he says nonchalantly, trailing his hands along the sides of your body. “Just let me finish this game and I’ll get off, okay?”

“Can I sit on your lap and just cuddle, please?” you ask seductively while batting your eyelashes.

He pats his lap, expecting you to sit down facing the computer screen. A shocked expression crosses his features as you climb onto him, your chests touching and you wrap your arms around his neck. His hand instinctively finds its way to your ass, grabbing a handful and squeezing it lightly. Your face finds the crook of his neck, trying to hide the whimper that escapes your mouth when he squeezes you.

“Don’t distract daddy,” he says low in your ear, turning his chair around to face the game. “If you can’t cooperate, I won’t reward you later.”

Hearing his commanding tone made it difficult to not submit to him instantly, but you mentally told yourself to stay strong. This was his punishment, not yours. If you had to, you could easily pretend to be falling for his shit - and that was a risk you were willing to take.

“Jean, you’re such a fucking dumbass,” he says as he turns his mic back on.

You wait patiently to mess with him even though it’s torture for you as well. Occasionally, Connie’s hand squeezes your ass, knowing it drives you crazy.

After making an impressive kill, he smacks your ass hard in celebration. The slight bit of movement gives you your opportunity to nestle your pussy right on top of his cock. Your clit rubs against his sweats, giving you the friction you need to begin your punishment for him.

Your lips pepper his neck with light kisses as you slowly move yourself along his length, sighing at the feeling. Connie’s jaw clenches as he tries to fight the urge to moan, keeping his eyes glued to the game in front of him. He knows if he even glances at you that he’ll break completely.

“You really that needy?” he says, muting his mic so Jean and Eren don’t hear. “Such a little slut. Can’t even wait 10 more minutes.”

Words that would normally have you falling apart at the seams have you feeling even more angry at him. He dared to call you a slut when he hasn’t touched you sexually in over a month. Of course you were needy - that’s what happens when you’re ignored daily.

You quicken your pace, the wetness from you coating his sweatpants. He moves his character to a spot on the map where he won’t be seen clearly, grabbing your ass roughly with his hands when it’s hidden completely. His hands help you move along his length, quiet moans falling from your mouth as you feel yourself reaching your climax.

“You gonna cum, baby?” 

You nod your head quickly, feeling your orgasm approaching quickly.

Just as you’re about to reach your peak, Connie’s hands pull you off his lap. As you stand above him you whimper at the loss of contact, seeing a sinister smirk come to his face. His hands slide down his sweatpants and boxers, making his hard cock spring free. You can feel yourself practically salivating at the sight as his hands make their way to your hips. He brings your body closer to his, one of his hands snaking to your pussy. A finger trails along the wet folds, making him realize you chose the one set that was crotchless.

“Since you wanna be such a fucking needy slut,” he says, rubbing his finger lightly on your clit. “How about you have a seat on daddy’s cock.”

Your brain doesn’t comprehend the words that fall from his mouth as he brings his hands back to your hips, gripping them tightly as he shoves you down onto his cock. 

“Connie!”

A mixture of pain and pleasure overwhelms you as you try to adjust to his size quickly. You try to move yourself along his length, but his hands hold you in your place.

“Don’t fucking move,” he says harshly. “This is your punishment since you don’t want to fucking listen. Now sit here like the good girl you are, and wait until I’m done with the next game.”

Connie thinks he has you in the palm of his hand, a smirk showing proudly on his face. The sound of gunfire continues as you sit patiently waiting for your moment for payback. His cock fills you to the brim, making the urge to move hard to fight. He can’t hear your quiet whimpers over his friends and the gunfire, but he can feel you resisting the urge to squeeze him every time his cock twitches inside you.

“Shit guys, there’s a whole fucking team heading our way!” Eren yells through the headset.

Perfect timing, you think to yourself. You trail your hand up Connie’s chest, letting it rest at the base of his neck.

“Y/N, what the fuck are you -”

“No, you listen to me, Connie,” you say harshly, grabbing the sides of his neck. “I’m tired of being fucking ignored, so this is your punishment. You need to just sit there and play your game while I get myself off on your cock.”

“Oh shit!” Jean yells through the headset.

“Don’t you dare mute that fucking mic,” you say, smacking his hand away from the headset. “Since you want to be such a fucking prick, your friends can listen to me fuck you. Don’t fucking move, and don’t you dare fucking die - or I won’t reward you later.”

Connie nods his head quickly, making you smirk in satisfaction. Your hips begin to move, sliding up his cock until you’re satisfied enough to slam yourself back down onto him. You squeeze the sides of his neck harder, earning a low whimper from him. 

His cock hits your sweet spot with every thrust onto him, making you moan loudly. Connie’s eyes struggle to stay on the game, the scene of you fucking yourself on his cock hotter than he could’ve ever imagined. He resists the urge to reach out and grab your tits that are almost begging to be released from the garment in front of him. His name falling from your mouth like a chant has him losing focus as he feels your hand fall from his neck. The edge of his shirt rubs onto your clit, creating that little bit of friction needed to send you over the edge. You squeeze around his cock hard, finally causing him to moan loudly. “Fuck! Gonna cum!” you moan loudly.

“Holy fucking shit dude,” Eren says loudly in the speaker.

“This is hot as fuck,” Jean says in agreement with Eren.

“C’mon baby,” Connie moans, desperate to feel you cum around his cock. 

Your walls squeeze him tightly as your orgasm hits you like a wave. Gunfire sounds stop completely as the wet sound of your pussy taking him fills the room. The moans falling from your mouth are a mixture of Connie’s name and curse words as you continue to fuck yourself through it. Connie finally brings a hand down to your ass, squeezing it roughly as he helps you move along his length.

Your head falls onto his shoulder as your orgasm finally stops. Connie’s cock twitches inside you practically begging you for release. You whimper at the feeling, your own body wanting to feel another orgasm crash over it. 

“Holy fucking shit baby,” Connie says as his hands make their way to your hips. 

His lips kiss your cheek lightly as they trail down to your neck, earning a quiet moan from your lips. Your hips move your pussy along his length making him hiss in satisfaction.

“Connie, please fuck me,” you beg. 

“You better fuck her before I come over there and do it,” Eren’s cocky voice sounds through the headset, making you giggle.

“In your fucking dreams, Jaeger.” Connie says, removing his headset and shutting off the game for the 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!

    (   PREVIOUS   |    AO3    |    MASTERLIST  |   NEXT  )

“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.

[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.

[verai-marcel]

Serendipitous Meetings (Arthur x GN!Reader, Modern AU, 18+)

Summary: You foolishly didn’t mark where you parked in the huge parking structure, and spend some time looking for your car. You run into a fellow who did the same thing, and things get ridiculously serendipitous from there.

Author’s Notes: How many tropes can I shove into this fic? Let’s face it, I just wanted to have Arthur fuck like the manly man that he is. Also going for gender neutral as much as possible, so all my readers who want a piece of Arthur can have him.

Tags: Arthur x GN!Reader, smut, light D/s tones, size kink, light spanking, neck grabbing, rough sex, dirty talk, modern AU

AO3 Link is here, li’l darlin’.

Word Count: 3764

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

"Shit."

You let out a long suffering sigh as you looked around the packed parking structure. In your rush to meet your friends, you had forgotten to take a photo of where you parked. Now you stared at the large expanse of cars, racking your brain for at least a slight memory of how you got to the venue entrance from your car. 

Sticking your hand into your pocket, you gripped your phone for a moment before letting it go. You had already shooed your friends away, insisting you had parked nearby and could get to your spot no problem. Swallowing your pride, you started to search the rows for the off-white bucket of bolts you dared to call your car. 

After searching one floor, you trudged up the stairs to the next one, stopping a few steps past the landing to gaze upon the hundreds of cars before you. You faintly heard another set of steps coming down the stairwell, but you were so mired in your own despair that you didn't pay the sound any mind. 

"Shit," said a gravelly voice next to you. 

Glancing over, a very broad set of shoulders filled your view. Your eyes flicked over the red and black flannel shirt and blue jeans, with an almost hilariously large belt buckle. Then you looked up. 

Oh no. He was gorgeous, in a rugged, manly-man sort of way. That chiseled jaw, the five o’clock shadow, that thick neck… he was the kind of man who could probably pick you up and throw you over his shoulder with ease. You were so busy staring at him in tired awe that he finally noticed you.

A pair of turquoise eyes met yours. "Sorry," the man said. "Can't find my truck."

It took you half a second to remember to respond. Then you gave him an empathic half-grin. "I can't find my car either."

He pointed upstairs. "What's yer car look like? Maybe I saw it up there."

You shook your head. "It's just a generic off-white Toyota Corolla."

The man shrugged. "Oh. Well, sorry darlin', there's a bunch of those up there."

You sighed, lamenting the fact that your car was one of the most popular cars out on the road these days. You also secretly enjoyed him calling you darling with that accent of his. He sounded like he had just stepped out of a spaghetti western. 

"Maybe I saw your truck downstairs, if it stands out," you said, trying to be helpful. 

"It's a blue Chevy pick-up. Really old, like one o' them classic trucks, 'cept it ain't been cleaned up like the ones you see in a car show."

Your memory flashed with the image of a dirty blue truck in your apartment complex's garage. You stifled a laugh at the thought. You had always wondered who drove the old thing, since you had never seen its owner. 

"Nope, I didn't see a truck like that downstairs," you told him. 

"Oh. Well, guess we better start lookin'," he said. He looked at you for a moment, opened his mouth, then closed it again.

You waited.

“Maybe,” he finally said, “maybe we could look together? For a bit. Keep each other company.”

“Okay,” you said easily. Part of your brain screamed that it could be really easy for him to just pull you into his car, but you dismissed the voice in your head. He seemed alright; you had a good feeling about this guy.

The two of you took off towards the left side of the structure. Putting your remote under your chin and hoping it would actually increase its range, you hit the button on occasion. 

“Uh, what’re you doin’?” he asked, pointing at your remote.

“Oh, I read about this online, someone figured out that you can use your own head as an antenna, or something like that.”

The man raised an eyebrow, but eventually just nodded. “Huh, I guess that makes sense.”

You shrugged. “Haven’t tested it before this, so I’m hoping it actually works.”

The two of you wandered further and further towards the center when finally you heard that familiar beep. 

*BEEP BEEP*

He chuckled. “Guess it works.”

You had never been so happy to hear that annoying little buzzer of a horn. You took off at a jog without waiting for the man, going towards where you had heard the sound, and as you turned a corner, you spotted it. 

It was the big, old, blue truck from your apartment complex. 

No way, you thought. There is no way. Maybe it's a similar truck. 

Going back, you saw the man wandering around, still searching. 

"Hey Mister!" you yelled. 

He turned towards you. 

You excitedly pointed towards the truck. "This yours?" 

He started walking to you, and as he came closer, you could see the smile on his face and felt your heart skip a beat. 

"Thank you," he said, stopping in front of you. "Where’s your car?"

You grinned and hit your unlock button. The little off-white sedan next to his truck let out a little beep, the lights coming on. 

"Wish I had one of those," he said wistfully. "Sure woulda made my life easier." He looked at you with a small smirk as he opened the door to his truck. "But then I wouldn’t have met you. Thanks fer your help, angel."

You smiled, feeling your cheeks warm from his comment. "No problem." You struggled to find anything else to say, feeling pathetically desperate to hear him speak more. "Have a good night," you finally said. 

"You too," he said, his voice a little lower, a little more breathy as he hauled himself into his truck and closed the door. Now that you had a pretty good feeling that he was a decent guy and not a creep, you half-wished he really would pull you into his truck and have his way with you. 

Shaking the lewd thought from your head, you got into your car and set up your phone to listen to a podcast as you drove home. You eased your way out of the garage, through the local roads, and onto the freeway. For the next thirty minutes, you would spot the same blue truck out of the corner of your eye. Sometimes you’d pass him, sometimes he’d pass you. 

Maybe it’s a different blue truck, you tried to convince yourself.

You couldn’t convince yourself any further when you pulled into your apartment complex right behind him. He parked at his usual spot, three away from yours. Climbing out of your car, you saw him walk towards you.

“You followin’ me?” he asked gruffly, though the grin on his face clearly showed his amusement at the coincidence.

“I can’t believe we live in the same complex,” you muttered, still in shock that you had never seen this handsome man before. “How long have you lived here?”

“Oh, ‘bout two years now.”

“Shit,” you thought to yourself.

“Why’re you cursin’?”

Oh crap. You said that out loud. “I, uh, um,” you stammered.

He quietly watched you, letting you stew in your own embarrassment, an amused grin on his face. The bastard was enjoying watching you squirm!

Feeling your face heat up, you blurted out the truth.

“We could’ve known each other sooner!”

It was an unfortunate tick in your personality that you had never managed to get rid of, and now, watching his eyes widen at your embarrassing remark, you wished the sidewalk would just open up and swallow you whole. But since that wasn’t going to happen, you opted to turn around and stalk away.

“Hey now, wait, you can’t just say that and leave,” the man said, jogging to catch up to you. When you wouldn’t stop walking, he swerved in front of you, forcing you to stop mere millimeters from him. You noticed how big he was, how little you were in comparison. You weren’t a small person by any means, he was just… large.

“Why’re you runnin’ away, darlin’?” he asked, his voice hushed as if he was trying to calm a wild animal. Perhaps with the way you acted, you seemed that way to him.

You took a deep breath, accidentally inhaling his scent, a mix of pine trees and a subtle hint of campfire smoke and musk that made you want to bury your face in his chest and stay there. Desire shot straight between your legs, reminding you that it had been a long time since you’d been with anyone. Letting out a shaky breath, you made the poor choice of looking up at him.

You were blinded by his kind smile and seduced by his deep voice. “Do you want to know me?” he asked quietly. 

“Yes, I do,” you answered immediately.

He pointed to his apartment. “I live there. Want to share some whiskey?"

You paused. He was a stranger. 

A stranger with beautiful eyes and the sweetest smile you had ever seen. 

You followed him willingly into his den. 

***

You blinked after he turned on the lights. When your vision cleared, your expectations were, fortunately, not met at all.

You had expected a bachelor pad with junk everywhere and clothing on the floor. What you saw was a clean and neat living room with a simple couch and a TV on top of a small entertainment center that held a few blu-rays and a blu-ray player. The short table in front of the couch had a plate on it, a smudge of ketchup and some crumbs on it, and a glass with a little bit of water left.

The man went to pick up after himself, putting the dirty dishes in the sink before going to his pantry. His kitchen looked pretty bare, except for the dried herbs, tied up in bunches under his cabinets. 

While he shuffled around bottles, you went to sit on his couch, but not before pausing for a moment to look through the door to his bedroom. He had a bed that looked big and comfy, his sheets somewhat askew but otherwise in place. Didn’t look like there were any clothes or boxes lying around anywhere. So either the man was tidy, or he didn’t own a lot of things.

“Curious li’l one, ain’tcha?” he chuckled behind you.

Spinning around, you could only give him a sheepish grin. “Yup, sorry. I couldn’t help myself.”

He smiled and gave you a tumbler of amber liquid with a giant sphere of ice. “Curiosity like that could get you in trouble one day,” he said mysteriously, gesturing towards the couch.

You raised an eyebrow, but sat down anyway. You took a sip of the ice cold whiskey, enjoying its slow burn down your throat. It was smooth and sweet. “This is fantastic, what is it?”

“It’s a blackberry flavored whiskey,” he replied as he settled himself on the couch, a little closer to you than you had expected. “I thought you might like it.”

“Oh?” You leaned in a little closer. “And why is that?”

“Somethin’ a li’l sweet fer a li’l sweetheart,” he said with a grin. He knew he was being schmaltzy, but you didn’t care. You were eating up his words, spoken with that deep rumble that went right between your legs.

You continued to sip and make small talk with him until your ice had melted and the late night had become the witching hour. But he didn’t seem to mind, and you wanted to stay.

“You got a bit o’ whiskey here,” he said as he leaned in and reached for the corner of your lips, his thumb catching the drop that had escaped your last sip. You flicked out your tongue to catch him, and your eyes met. A heartbeat passed. The whiskey gave you strength.

Taking his hand in yours, you surged forward and kissed his lips, tasting whiskey and his woodsy scent. A low moan came from deep within him, but he did not reach for you. His hands gripped the cushions as he let you take the lead, climbing into his lap and wrapping your arms around him, your fingers kneading his broad shoulders. You kissed the breath from him, desperate to feel him against you.

When you finally broke away for air, you stared at his eyes, now filled with lust and longing, and realized you didn’t even know his name. 

He came to the same conclusion. “What’s yer name, darlin’?”

You told him.

He nodded and repeated your name. It sounded so good when he said it. “Feels nice to say it out loud,” he said. “I’m Arthur,” he added as he wrapped his arms around you and held you tenderly. “How far do you want to go?”

“All the way,” you said, grinding your hips against his groin, making him take a shuddered breath.

Without a word, he picked you up and carried you to his big, comfy bed. He dropped you unceremoniously and took off his shirt.

He was ripped. He was built like a man who had worked all his life in a physical job, carrying & lifting. With his tall stature, his broad shoulders, and his huge arms, he made you feel small.

You had never been more aroused in your whole life. 

Your body was ready to be thoroughly fucked by this man, and you hadn’t even taken your clothes off yet. You watched hungrily as he undid his belt and dropped his jeans & boxers, your eyes taking in his size. He wasn’t even at full mast yet, and you already wondered if you’d be able to take him all in.

“Your turn, darlin’.”

Taken out of your trance, you took off your clothes as he watched. You started at a normal pace, but when you saw him take himself in his hand and stroke himself while watching you with a lustful gaze, you slowed down, making an attempt to tease him. Already topless, you lay back on the bed and lifted your legs up, sliding your pants upwards. Slowly, you exposed your ass to him, winking salaciously.

He stroked himself a little faster. A soft moan escaped his lips. “Darlin’, yer makin’ it real hard fer me to stay in control here.”

You glanced down at him. “I can see it’s real hard,” you said with a playful smirk.

“Oh, yer goin’ ta get it now,” he said, his grin becoming predatory as he climbed onto the bed. Grabbing the rest of your clothes, he pulled them from you, flinging them over his shoulder before flipping you onto your belly. He gripped your ass and squeezed hard before giving you a firm spank.

“Ooh!” you yelped. 

“You want more?” he asked as his hand soothed over his mark.

You could tell he was asking for permission. Turning back to him, you gave him your best pouty face. “Does Sir think I need more?”

Arthur looked immensely pleased with your response. “I think so,” he said, his voice deepening with a thread of command that turned you on beyond belief. He straddled your legs and rested one hand on the curve of your ass. “I told you, curiosity would get you in trouble.”

He spanked you hard once more. “That’s fer sneakin’ glances into my room,” he said. He gave you three more swipes, each in slightly different areas so you wouldn’t get too sore. Then he grabbed your ass with both hands and massaged your muscles, spreading you open as he thrust his cock along the cleft of your rear.

“Yer so obedient, sweetheart,” he murmured as his hips rocked, his eyes fluttering shut for a few moments. Then with his strong grip, he manhandled you onto your back, wrapping his big hands around you and pulling you into his arms. He cradled you for a sweet, gentle moment before rolling you around like you were as light as a pillow before setting you back down onto the mattress. He leaned over you as he reached for the nightstand, pulling out a condom. You watched him slip it on, but he didn’t move to enter you. Instead, he reached down and began to stroke you as he loomed above, watching your reactions.

You moaned and writhed under his deliberate exploration. His hands traveled languidly along every inch of you. When he found a sensitive area that elicited a soft noise of pleasure from you, he lingered, making you whimper and lean into his touch. He finally touched you lower, where you longed for his attention, but to your frustration he continued his study at the same leisurely pace. Soon his strokes became faster and he pressed harder against you. His eyes nearly glowed as he watched you lift your hips towards his hands, imploring him for more. Using his new knowledge to his advantage, he brought you to the brink and then shifted his touch elsewhere, making you cool off before working you back up again until you were going insane with need.

“Please, please Arthur, I need to come,” you begged.

He only smiled as he slipped a finger inside of you. He slowly worked you open enough for two of his fingers, then three. Soon he was dragging you to the edge again, and you hadn’t even had his cock. You were feeling like you were being denied the thing you wanted most.

“Arthur,” you whispered, “I want your cock.”

“Louder, darlin’.”

“I want your cock!”

“And what do you want me to do with it?”

“Fuck me!”

“Say it again. All of it.”

“Fuck me with your cock!”

His smile was wolfish, satisfied that he had heard you beg for your desire. Pressing the head of his shaft against your opening, he pushed, easing his way inside of you.

You were right. He was big, long, and oh so thick. He stretched you deliciously, and you keened softly as he took you, claimed you, made you his in the most carnal of ways. He reached up and slipped his hand under your head, gripping your hair at the base and pulling slightly. 

“Eyes on me, darlin’. I want to see you while I’m takin’ you,” he murmured.

You couldn’t look away from him. His look was intense, as if he commanded your entire being, your body his to use for his pleasure. And you willingly gave it to him, letting him sheathe his entire length inside of you. He held you still while your body adjusted to his claim, watching you with an almost proud expression.

“Good li’l darlin’,” he said as he leaned over. He kissed you gently on the lips, then on the forehead, and as if he was overcome with affection for you, peppered kisses along the curve of your cheek and down your neck.

“I’m goin’ to fuck you now,” he whispered into your ear. “You tell me to slow if it’s too much for ya, alright?”

You nodded, sure that whatever he was about to do to you, you could handle it.

He lifted himself up onto his forearms, his hands framing your face. “You look so damn cute,” he murmured before his hips slowly pulled back. “So fuckable.”

Arthur slammed his cock deep inside of you with one forceful stroke. He immediately looked down at you when you let out a cry of surprise. He waited, quietly checking in.

“More,” you whispered.

You thought you saw relief cross his features before he gave you a teasing smirk. “Ask me nicely and I just might give it to ya.”

“Please sir,” you begged, “I need more.”

Arthur gave you a single nod before rocking his hips, building you up slowly, his gaze nearly burning a hole into you with their intensity. As your body stretched and accommodated him, you clawed at his arms, greedily clamoring for him to speed up. He let out a feral growl before wrapping a big, rough hand around your neck, his other hand gripping your leg and spreading you wider for him. 

"You think you can take more, darlin'?" 

You looked up at him and smiled a challenge. 

He began a ferocious pace, angling himself to take you as deep as he could go. All you could focus on was the impact of his body against yours, his thick shaft filling you over and over, unrelenting as a tidal wave.

Soon he let go of your neck so he could sit up and grip your hips with both of his hands. He was fucking the breath out of you with each hard thrust, the sound of his hips slamming against yours filling the room with a lewd rhythm, intertwined with your breathy cries and his low moans of pleasure.

He reached down and stroked you, his touch rough and vigorous, matching the way he was ravaging you in a haze of lust. You could feel yourself sprinting towards that delicious finish line. The end was in sight as your hips jerked wildly, your legs wrapping around Arthur as he thrust even harder and deeper than before. 

"Come fer me," he murmured. "I want to feel you lose yerself around my cock."

You screamed as his words broke the dam that was holding back a torrent of pleasure, your climax tearing through your body at breakneck speed. Your legs stiffened, your toes curled, and your fingers dug into his very muscled biceps as you came harder than you ever had. You shook with aftershocks as Arthur continued to thrust, his hands letting go of your hips as he fell upon his forearms, caging you in as he chased his pleasure. 

"Fuck sweetheart, I'm comin'," he moaned before he buried his head into the crook of your neck. He gave three more erratic thrusts, then nearly crushed you with his weight as he pressed his hips against yours, keeping himself inside of you for as long as he could. 

A breathless moment passed, the two of you trying to catch that elusive breath. Arthur rolled off of you, quickly gathering you into his arms as he tumbled onto his side. 

"Goddamn," he finally muttered. "Wasn't expectin' to have such good company."

You turned in his arms so you could see the wide grin on his face. "For once, I'm glad I got lost in the parking lot."

He kissed your forehead. "Me too, darlin'. But let's make sure we don't get lost again." He found your hands under the covers, brought them up to his lips, and kissed your fingertips. 

"After all, I only just found you, my li'l darlin'."

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

End Notes: Been a while, and of course, all of my pent-up lust just came streaming out of me in a flurry of words and phrases. Hope it’s still hot enough for you, my lovely readers!

[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.