#it was quite disconcerting . but i stay silly

[theotherrichardpapen]

[retiredteabag]

soft Toji dog-sitting for a generous!reader

pt. 1 - pt. 2 - pt. 3 - pt. 4 - pt. 5 - pt. 6 - next

cw for this chapter: discussion of assault (reader)

synopsis: Toji was quite accustomed to objectifying himself for a check. And to be frank, far worse actions as well. Now he’s not sure what to do with himself after meeting the kind and generous owner of the dog he pet-sits for.

read along as Toji grows more comfortable around you despite his past.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

Try as he might, Toji could not escape the sounds of your frightened voice from the night prior. He slept horribly, tossing from his side to his back only to stare up at your ceiling fan. When he finally got up, he busied himself with cleaning the house before your return.

You had told him not to worry about staying past the afternoon, that you expected to be back in time to feed the dog, but Toji insisted on staying. He wanted to see you. More importantly, he wanted to speak to you. There were several things he would have liked to have spoken about, but the one thing weighing on his mind was what had happened the night prior.

Your desperate apologies, your wavering voice. All of it felt so disconcerting.

So Toji stayed.

He stayed and washed the sheets, stayed and made up the bed, stayed and swept the floors.

He was a decisive man. If he wanted to do something? Consider it done. So why? Why was he second-guessing himself when he heard your car pull up the driveway? Why did his heart pound as if he was in some kind of danger? Why did he find himself pacing, looking for something to occupy himself with? All so he didn't seem like he was waiting for you.

But he was, he was waiting for you.

A pause permeated the foyer and kitchen when he heard you open the door and for a moment his throat felt tight, you hadn't seen him yet. His grip on the rag he was "washing dishes" with tightened. He heard a light gasp and spun around. Finally.

"Toji! I didn't realize you were here, I didn't see your car." You spun around to peek out the window, Toji dropped the towel and moved to the island. Closer to you. To observe you. You looked fine.

"Glad you made it back. He's been waiting for you." Toji pointed to the dog that was currently bounding around you in a show of tender love.

You kneeled down and scratched the dog's neck. "Thank you so much for watching him, I know how much he loved your company, but, Toji, how did you get here?"

He smiles, "Took the bus, needed gas." He didn't, he just wanted an excuse to stay. But by the look on your face, this was clearly the wrong response.

"Oh, my- Toji! Oh! You should have said, I would pay for your gas!" You had shot up at his statement and were looking at him with embarrassed disappointment.

"Oh please" He rolled his eyes, "You're plenty generous enough."

"I don't want you riding the bus at night, I'll give you a ride, or I can order you an Uber, like before."

Toji was thinking fast, why were you so keen on his leaving? Was it because you were uncomfortable? Or did you feel like it was a burden for him to stay? Whatever the answer, he was still caught up on the fact that you didn't want him riding the bus. How silly, to worry about his safety.

"Nah, it's no problem, I was staying here regardless." He shrugged.

"Was everything alright? Did you have everything you needed?" You smile at him and he eases a breath, okay, no more talk of leaving.

"Everything and then some. You've got a real nice place." He took a step closer to scratch the dog's ear. "Good trip?"

He didn't want to push. He wouldn't. But he couldn't help the curiosity. Especially when he watched your face falling at his question.

"Oh... yes, well" You sighed, shrugged, and avoided eye contact. "Work, you know."

"So..... not a good time." Toji tried for a tone of joviality but your eyes did not brighten.

"No. Wish I could've been here." You spoke so quietly that he could barely hear. He was worried that, within a moment, you would call him a cab, or usher him to your BMW. This was it.

Toji had been hungry for information since your text. It was for no reason other than his experience with law enforcement that he stayed up last night. Thinking about what type of situation you were in.

"Can I ask you a question?" Toji began, your head whipping to his face, nodding slightly, "It's about last night."

He noticed instantly- your eyebrows rose, along with your shoulders. You took a breath in as your chin lifted up. Unaware to you, your arms encircled your torso. You were so easy to read.

You didn't speak though. Toji took the silence once again. "Something happened, while you were away." Not a question, he realized as it came out. Damn, what was he saying? You didn't respond and he scrambled for the right words.

"Did-I mean. Did something happen?" So eloquent.

You sighed, looking at your shoes. Right on cue, your dog whimpered at your feet. "Yeah...' You draw it out, there's humor in your tone. "I didn't want to go on the trip anyway." Sighing, you look up at the ceiling, Toji gets the feeling that you were speaking to yourself.

"Didn't realize you saw a lot of crime in your business." How is it he can hold eye contact so steadily? How is it he can look through to your soul?

"Hmm?" You raise a brow, and then your eyes grow, "Oh! No! No! I don't." He laughs from his chest. The prospect of criminal activity leaves you aghast. "It wasn't a crime! Well..." You begin that mumbling "talking-to-yourself" way of speech, "Not a serious one, I've had problems with him for ages now."

Toji stops. You stop. You said too much.

"Him?" Toji's brows are stitched tightly together. Had he misheard?

"Oh!" You begin, catching his eyes that are glued to you. "It's not serious. If it was I would do something. It's not that!" You huff out, “Not like that…”

But Toji hadn't said anything. He remains silent. Waiting for you to continue. The dog begins to pace. You run a hand through your hair and then wave nonsensically as if to ward off the air around you.

"Who are we talking about." Toji's voice has only once sounded like this. It had sounded this way over the phone that night he carried your dog a mile, drove him to the vet, and silently watched you bandage his hands.

It had sounded like this when he was desperate.

"Aagh!" You shook your head. Dispelling some unhappy thought or memory. "I'm not... really supposed to be speaking about all this. It's been handled." You wave your hands dramatically, making a show of finding the time, you start up again, "Oh goodness, look at the clock, Toji let me get you a ride so you can be home for dinner!"

"I'd like to hear about this actually." He doesn't move. He slowly maneuvers his head to follow your gaze. "Having trouble with a co-worker?"

Toji had his fair share of experiences with unsavory characters in his time working in different industries. They were never too difficult to handle, though.

You laugh painfully, "Unfortunately, yeah, but there's really nothing to do..." Your making "shooing" motions with your hands again, motioning between him and the door.

"That why you didn't wanna go on this trip?" He watches your motion - ignores it.

"Gosh, yes. You know how it goes." Toji hums.

"Police involved?" He watches you. Your hands shiver to a stop, you turn to meet his eyes, suddenly still.

"No." You look at him. "No, it was handled before that."

"But he wasn't fired." His head slants to the left.

"No reason to fire him." You're looking at him differently now. You sound different now. Finite. Tired.

"Well, if police could be involved, there has to be some reason." He looks at you, but you're not speaking. You're not smiling. You're not moving.

"He was the one to make you cry that night." He asks, but it's not a question this time either.

"I think you should go get dinner, Toji." You speak softly, but there is really no room for disagreement allowed.

"There's gotta be something, just tell your boss if you don't wanna work with some dickhead." He's trying to help, he is, but it's coming out all wrong. He doesn't know the situation, and he's never had a real job before, he doesn't know - that even though your position is one of power - although you are high up in a huge conglomerate - although you have a million opportunities in front of you that he's never been offered - although you make real, honest money - some of the most evil people are in those positions as well.

And things that, he, a killer, a prostitute, a gambler, a criminal, could never imagine even in his most dark moments, go on, under the veil of the shiny "opulence" so easily desired.

"He's not just a colleague, Toji." Your sentences are chopped as they leave your lips. Toji realized suddenly that the only reason you're speaking now is because he has obviously made you upset. "He's a stakeholder's son. And everyone loves him. Trust me. I've reported him before. But nothing comes of it. It just." You sigh, detached. "It just makes me look bad. He's popular and charismatic, and everyone thinks he's.... he's the best! So there. He can do what he wants. He can touch who he wants. He can make decisions for everyone else. And there's nothing I can do, actually."

Toji is taken aback, and your dog huffs at your legs, "I'm sorry..." You mutter behind your hands. Likely embarrassed at your lengthy diatribe. But Toji takes no notice of your apology.

"He touched you?" There is something new now, something Toji does understand, and this, this will not happen again, he is sure of it.

"Just briefly. And he was drunk. So what does it matter." Your hands remain in front of your face. A grievously aggravated tone in your voice for the first time.

"It matters all the same. It matters- it matters-" Toji is racing for the right thing to say but he’s never been good with words.

He has experienced being touched when he did not like it. He had experienced allowing somethings to happen for a dollar. But he had never been in the position of being attacked. He had never been the weaker of two people. But you, he cannot image such a feeling. Such a feeling being completely uncontrolled.

And suddenly he's remembering your texts, your jittery voice, your apologies and he wants to puke.

"Why not go to the police. Something must be done. Y/n, please."

"I can't." He bends down to see your sunken face, trying to spot any tears. "What if nothing happens? What if I make a fool of myself? What if- Toji, what if I lose my job?"

Seeing now, the darkness within what he believed to be grandeur, he wonders if you are really any better off than he.

"You won't. Y/n- I, I can do it. I can get this... handled." His mind is flooded with memories, a man, someone who worked for his handler, he was good with technology, good with blackmail. His thoughts were interrupted by a chuckle.

"No-Toji, that can't happen. It just... I don't think that's possible. I'm just." You heave a breath, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said a thing. I think I'm just tired. It's okay."

"No." He's shaking his head. Slow. But you don't hear him. You've closed him off. You've resigned yourself and he wonders, sickeningly, how long you have been resigned for.

That night grew dark faster than either of you knew. You had told him not to think about it. You told him to let it go. But that night, reminded of a similar evening he spent in a car that was paid to bring him back to his apartment. He considered the situation.

When he climbed his way into his dark apartment, he did not hesitate. Measured steps brought him to the ventilation above the stove in his kitchen. He reached up, grabbed the flip phone found there, a burner he knew remained.

He didn't even mull it over before he sent the text.

"Need a favor. Call me."

And he didn't sleep that night until he'd been back in contact with the man he thought he was done working with for good.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

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[kagoutiss]

I kind of love how you have all these interesting hcs for Ganondorf like animals loving him, his weird dynamic with Sheik, the approval he seeks from his mothers etc. while at the same time being like “he’s a horrible gremlin and bloodthirsty and no one would want to stay near him”. I feel like it really captures how absurd and chaotic he is. Thank you for your service.

oh…im holding this ask very gently…..this means a lot to me because like!! yeah all these things are sort of true to me and i feel like he’s one of those characters where the more you dissect him, the more discordant things you find, and yet they all somehow intertwine in a way that makes him compelling and whole :-) retroactively putting a warning here that i ended up talking a lot and going pretty off-track but. like,,, one of the main roots of his absurdity to me is that he just has these fundamental problems with connecting with people (outside of clever manipulation, which he is good at), which are very effective at driving people away, even when he genuinely loves them, and i think he does this thing constantly where he wants people to despise him and he wants people to think the worst of him, because he is so much more comfortable with that than just? learning how to actually differentiate between love & hatred? and to not immediately feel threatened by gestures of love as some kind of deception, because he probably can’t quite make out the difference? despite having such a high level of emotional intelligence otherwise? and this primarily ties in with the idea that the biggest most terrifying enemy he has ever known in his entire life has been the neighboring kingdom, which professes to be the epitome of love & light & benevolence while at the same time committing the most egregious hateful bloody acts of cruelty in the darkest recesses of kakariko’s catacombs

and like. i think all of his formative experiences have still led to him being fully capable of things like feeling love, but also consequently not having the faintest idea of what the definition of that actually is, or how it works, or how to relate to someone you care about without just projecting all your own experiences onto them, or communicating your affection in ways other than just. being mean. and him purposely antagonizing people who do love him and are kind to him is a kneejerk reaction that he might not even realize is nonsensical, just a way of avoiding the most fundamentally disconcerting thing he knows, which is the ambiguity of something that claims to be kind or good. and so i think he‘d find a weird comfort in things that either don’t have that ambiguity, or subvert it entirely

like animals! who are far less capable of deception, or monsters, who like him, are deemed inherently evil. or spirits, who shouldn’t technically even be bound by the concepts of good & evil, even less applicable to wayward souls than to living beings. above all other humans though, he is definitely closest to his surrogate mothers, who supposedly are the true highest authorities of the gerudo tribe, and who treat him more like a deity than a son, and might moreso love the idea of what they want him to be, rather than the person he is. and he is in fact mortal, and a human being, and extremely flawed, and prone to recklessness under stress, and makes silly mistakes, and is emotionally unstable, with an attention span that doesn’t actually seem particularly well-suited to politics or government. and i accidentally wrote way too much in one sitting again, but.

but yeah, he’s like. my point is he is so full of things. he is completely absurd and chaotic and yet also i think there are recognizable patterns in what he does, if you think about him way too hard for way too long. he’s an infuriating swiss watch of a person that functions with seemingly inexplicable precision, but is made to say rude things to you instead of showing you the time, and yet you can’t really judge him too harshly after making the difficult effort of trying to understand him, because it becomes more & more evident that. that’s just. the way he is. that that’s the inevitable way that he came together, entirely due to circumstance. he’s a reflection of the completely nonsensical universe that he lives in, an antagonist since the day he was born, defined as such by the world’s Inherently Good Authorities, who are themselves objectively guilty of mass kidnapping, torture, murder, displacement and genocide, and yet are still, by the immutable definitions of these words as they’ve established them, Good. and i NEED to go to bed but yeah i love him for being a horrible insufferable bitch, actually, because it’s meaningful in and of itself, and i love him for not being normal, and having unmanageable fears of inadequacy, and mommy issues, and ADHD and autism, and for bullying teenagers, and being more fond of monsters & parasites than people, and literally using his emotions as a weapon, and referring to himself as king of every evil thing in existence, and almost never bothering to explain his actual motivations to people who he knows have already decided that he is the crux of all the world’s problems, because he’s fully internalized that trying to be understood by anyone at all is completely pointless. wife material

[merakime]

slides into ur inbox. im back with my catboy.

earl grey tea or chamomile tea w/ phantom purrhaps?

───── a / n: hey hey heeeey! this has been rotting in my inbox for a while, sorry for that vani :( but why not both? hehehe … these are such cute prompts for him :< i hope i did him justice!! unf i only found phantom in rewinding breeze and his IS so i hope this is ok

PHANTOM + chamomile & earl grey tea | tea prompts

✦ ───── chamomile tea: what is their sleep schedule like? does it change around their s/o?

difficult. extremely difficult. sleep is a luxury to him – result of a combination of his job, his feline nature and.. severe psychological damage. eventually his body reaches its limits and allows him to rest. there’ve been some betterments since you came around, though.

he would stay awake and watch over you while you slept. it’s.. a bit disconcerting. he’s extremely quiet, and that’s not the problem – but lucian stares. he stares at you when you sleep, and it’s adorable that he loves you so much that he’d stare at you all night – but sleeping becomes difficult when his gaze is so.. intense. ridiculously intense. and being awake all night doesn’t do him well either. so you eventually invite him to sleep with you, for your sake and his.. and he can’t say no. while his sleep is a bit more fruitful in your arms, he still wakes up in a cold sweat frequently, and doesn’t sleep well – so you’ll still have to deal with the stare (now even closer), but you can appreciate that he tries, no? 

(since lucian started sleeping in your place more often, you frequently get another visitor to accompany you in sleep. lucky you, the refined lady christine seems to have taken a liking to you! she likes to curl up between you, where it’s warm.)

✦ ───── earl grey tea; how did they court their s/o?

he’s struggling. he has been exposed to traditional ideas of love, relationships and marriage through theater pieces, and while he does wish to put a ring on you one day, as he’s come to love you dearly.. there’s a question bothering him: do you deserve it? not that he thinks of himself highly, no, he thinks of himself the opposite. do you deserve to be shackled in a promise of love to someone like him? a shadow, a phantom, a murderer?

nevertheless, in spite of his issues, his methods are somewhat kitschy, but endearing. he’s hesitating, but he truly wants you. it’s kind of a first in everything for him – soon you find that lucian is still quite shy. you may find bouquets of red roses at your doorstep, and you know it’s him, but he doesn’t show up for the remainder of the day. poems between the stacks of paper on your table, and a letter addressed to you in miss christine’s maw. he’s very much a gift-giver – as often he’s still afraid to touch you or speak to you, afraid to taint you by his sins. distant, but loving nonetheless.

───── final notes: oh he's a silly guy isn't he. i see the crimson troupe guys are very beloved here... also don't lynx eyes glow in the dark. wouldn't it be funny to wake up at night and just see two yellow dots staring straight at you.

[nonhumanhermitheadcanons]

Helloo there blog! I just recently checked out one of your fics about the mermits! It was interesting that I came up with a silly headcannon:

Every season of Hermitcraft, there’s always been this underwater place where mermaids exist. Every hermit is welcomed. It cost like a diamond to become a mermaid and experience being a mermaid! ( I remember it was in one of the fics)

I feel like at least all of the hermits experienced being a mermaid once!

I could probably go on and on about this lol

Helloo there anon! That's an interesting headcanon! The mermits have probably always had a place to go, and yeah, once they've revealed themselves to the other hermits we're sure the other hermits would be welcome!

For context, in this au the mermits are: Etho (who is the one that can cast a temporary mer spell on people), Grian, Hypno, Iskall, Impulse, Mumbo, Scar, Wels, and xB. We've done a few fics that include Etho turning other hermits into merpeople before; his spell lasts multiple days, during which the subject can't turn human again until the spell ends or either they or Etho die and respawn. Bdubs in H2DoubleO, Keralis in Sweetlips, Cub, Zedaph, and Xisuma in the main au fic, Deep Secrets, and Jevin in There Are Many Benefits to Being A Marine Humanoid. And may more Fishy adventures can be found in the full series.

See our list of hermits as Mers under the cut!

Bdubs would mostly visit a lot because Etho is there a lot - despite Etho always teasing him about his lovely pink mer tail. Bdubs insists that it's salmon-colored, to which Etho always points out that salmon aren't actually that color.

Beef wouldn't hesitate to get himself into the water, get a crash course on being a mer from his good friend Etho, and then insist that he taught him everything he knows :P

Cub would visit the mer palace frequently, too - he'd have fun as a mer. His tail is bright blue with highlights of white.

Doc's cybernetics may be waterproof, but that doesn't mean he necessarily likes to spend a lot of time in the water. It doesn't help that his merform is a bit unconventional. a ‘Leaf Sheep' sea slug to be exact.

False's tail one one of a sword fish, but she doesn't spend much time with the mers, she's busy being the queen of hearts and body parts. But once a Conduit was added, she's happy to pop by as a human.

Gem also doesn't really spend much time with the mers. She's visited once or twice; under Etho's spell her tail is very pretty and spotted, and her antlers turn into coral! But being stuck in the water for days with no legs is a little too disconcerting for her.

Jevin gets to be an octopus whenever he drops by! This is generally very conducive to him being a menace.

Joe is happy to stop by every now and again. Not to often but you know being a fish is quite conducive to building underwater. His tail is a pinstriped zebra fish.

Keralis has to stop by to see xB. All the time. His mer form is based on a very specific type of goldfish.

Pearl hit it off with a number of the mers when she was part of the Boatem crew, so she's happy to drop in whenever she needs a break. Maybe her mer form is based on a bogue - its scientific name is Boops boops :)

Ren very much prefers to keep his paws dry, but he's joined them a few times, as a dogfish shark of course

Tango doesn't like being a fish. He hasn't had a very good experience with it. Impulse and Zed did manage to peer pressure him into hanging out at the mer palace one time though. Never again, he tells them.

Cleo's mer form is a glass fish, meaning her spine is on full display within the tail. She's gone to the Mer hang out a few times but prefers to not get wet so she stays on land.

[thatnumbersix]

Nine lays on her bed with her arms stretched out and crossed behind her head. Her mp3 player lays on her chest, and some shitty rock music filters out from her earbuds. She stares up at the white popcorn ceiling.

She’s been thinking about Mark. It’s not something she’s thought about for a while. Not really. And she doesn’t expect him to suddenly come back just because she remembered him—no, she doesn’t miss him anymore. Thinking about him doesn’t rip open a hole in her chest, clean through the skin, threatening to dissolve her skeleton and make her fold in on herself, losing her coherence like water filtering into a drain until it gurgled and burbled and nothing was left. Now it’s just something to take mild notice of. Mark? Oh, Mark, she imagines saying to someone coolly. Yeah, I haven’t talked to him in a while. No, he’s gone.

Well, gone is a strong word. He’s not gone. He still lives in Mandela—granted, it was a ways away; but at least he was, last time she checked. He wasn’t gone. He’d just… been a victim of an unfortunate circumstance, of which he came out not remembering her. And scared of her…and some other things had happened that she couldn’t quite recall.

What did he look like again? Nine pictures his short brown hair; not black like her father’s, or blonde like Adam’s—brown like hers, tangled, a little silvery if the light shone on it right. She imagines his wings—big, cumbersome things, that he never managed to bump into a doorframe or catch on any loose objects, surprisingly. They were disconcerting, but in an elegant sort of way that she couldn’t explain; she tries to remember the way the feathers whispered when they rustled, but it’s drowned out by the flat voice of the singer trilling into her ear, and the thought of the album cover blots out the image of Mark she’s conjured up. She pulls out her earbuds.

His face… He doesn’t have a face. Nine almost snorts to herself, before remembering that in fact he does now, one with haunted eyes. That wasn’t her Mark, though. Her Mark didn’t have a face. He was much more approachable without the eyes.

Nine’s dark blue sweatshirt feels itchy and tight. Mark’s hoodie was dirty, but loose and cozy, likely broken-in from wearing it for too long. She ditches the shirt, pursing her lips—as if she had any—when it catches on the claws on her neck. She traces a finger around the base where keratin connects to skin.

She stretches her legs and arms outwards from her body, and her bones and joints crackle. She flexes her popping claws and holds herself there, long enough it starts to sting a little and she shivers from the tension, before she relaxes, muscles unclenching, skin going slack, eyes rolling back in her head. Her Mark, she had said? That was a little silly. The Mark she had known didn’t have a face.

But he has a face now, a frightened one, and hands that stay connected to his wrists, and no large, ruffled wings. And she has a family, who eats pasta with her, and gives her trinkets, and obnoxiously sings along to music with her. And he’s got a new family now, with a brother he still knows, that he could listen to music with and bring chocolates and tea to! She lets what restrains her insides loosen, and she sinks deep into the bed and closes her eyes, and she doesn’t really miss Mark that much at all.

[halogalopaghost]

Killer

Read on AO3

"Four!" Raph yelled victoriously.

On the other side of the rooftop, Leo punched out a foot ninja and spared a moment to roll his eyes.

“Stay sharp!” He tried to say it as a warning rather than bark it as an order, but he could never quite manage it amidst a sea of enemy ninja. And even though he knew they could take care of themselves, those what-ifs in the back of his mind never quieted. Sensei said it was the mark of a strong leader. Raph said it was ‘fucking obnoxious’.

“HA! Seven!” Mikey screamed.

Leo and Don met gazes over the heads of a few ninja and neither of them could resist the smirk. Mike’s happiness has always been infectious that way.

Before making their attack, Mikey had looked sideways at Raph, grinned wickedly, and said “Bet I can one-hit KO more foots than you.”

Donnie opened his mouth to correct the grammar, paused, and snapped it shut just as quickly. He was…technically not wrong.

Raphael took the bait instantly—with an equally disconcerting grin. “You’re on, shell-for brains.”

Leo would usually be the last person in the world to encourage his brothers’ silly competitions, but for once, this one was working in their favor. Where their schemes usually erred toward dangerous and qualified firmly for irritating, this one had his brothers constantly shouting out their totals. This didn't just keep Leo assured that they were safe, but also that they were paying attention. He loved all of his brothers, would kill or die for any of them equally, but good grief were those two hard to keep on-task sometimes.

Out of nowhere, Mikey vaulted over Leo’s head. One nunchuck struck out with careful precision, whacking the foot ninja that Leo had under control, thanks. The ninja folded like a lawn chair, and Mikey stuck the landing.

“That doesn't count!” Raph, panting heavily, skidded to a stop beside his brothers. “Leo tenderized that one!”

Mikey put his hands on his hips, ‘chucks dangling loose. “Yeah, but I only hit him once.” A self satisfied grin followed.

Raph growled—not the real, threatening growl, the one he reserved just for Mikey. “I'll hit’cha once, come here!”

Leo stopped him short with a hand on his chest. “Boys, please—”

“Boys?!” They protested as one. 

Leo sighed and let his head hang for a moment. He spun around and kicked a ninja square in the chest. He landed in a ventilation fan six yards away. 

Mikey whooped. “One for Leo!”

Some turtles' brothers. 

“I see you're all having—” Donnie grunted as he used the end of his staff to pick up a ninja, briefly bearing his full weight on that one point as he tossed the poor guy somewhere behind him. “ —fun over there, but could I get some help !”

“I got it!” Mikey shouted, literally jumping to his brother’s aid.

Leo did a survey of the rooftop. Some ninja made a hasty retreat while others stopped to peel comrades off the concrete. He scanned the skyline for anyone else waiting for them to drop their guard. Satisfied, he sheathed his katana and kicked back against the half wall around the edge of the roof to enjoy the show.

The three of them worked together like a well-oiled machine. Donnie wielded his bō like a baseball bat and lined up ninja for his brothers, clearly taking advantage of their wager. While it was a little disturbing that they laughed all the while, he was glad to see them working as a team and enjoying themselves.

His peaceful moment came to an abrupt end when Mikey screamed. Now, Mikey was prone to screaming but this one was different. It was bone-chilling.

Leo was at Mikey’s side before he even knew he was moving, grabbing the edge of Mikey’s shell and holding on tightly. Donnie and Raph ended the fight quickly; no more playing around.

He wasn't hurt. Thank shell he wasn't hurt. But he had a foot ninja cradled in his lap while he frantically searched for a pulse.

“Donnie—Donnie I can't—” Mikey’s words caught on a ragged breath as the aforementioned brother sank to his knees on the ninja’s other side.

Leo glanced over his shoulder to complete his headcount. Raphael stood a few feet away, gripping his sai too tight. 

Donnie gently tugged the hood off the ninja's face, leaving only his eyes and top of his head covered, then bent over him to listen for breathing while simultaneously checking for a pulse. At the sight of the blood leaking from the ninja’s ears, Mikey audibly whimpered and tightened his grip on the man.

He was young. He was really, really young.

Donnie lifted the mask a bit more, pulling it up to briefly expose his eyes and forehead. When they all got a look at what was underneath, he quickly replaced it. His expression turned grim. With remorse in his eyes, he looked up and shook his head.

In a breath, Mikey collapsed in on himself. He bowed his head all the way to his knees, still gripping the dead ninja. In that position he trembled and struggled to draw breath, but he didn't cry.

Leo and Don pressed in on either side of him, squishing the babiest of their brothers into a tight embrace.

“They left him,” Raph muttered. “They…they just left him.”

Leo silently signaled for Raph to keep watch; they were sitting ducks out in the open like this.

After a long silence, Michelangelo let out a low, keening cry that rattled Leo’s chest. His heart dropped to his tailbone.

“What did I do to him?” Without raising his head, he reached out toward Donnie. “What did I do ?”

Donnie took his brother's hand and petted it soothingly. “You…his frontal bone is…broken. I think bone fragments pierced his brain.”

Fuck. His baby brother just shattered a person's skull.

Leo moved his hand from Mikey’s shell to his shoulder. He was covered in cold sweat and shaking like a leaf. He made eye contact with Donnie and mouthed, ‘ Shock? ”. He nodded.

Raphael grew antsy behind them, pacing back and forth. His heavy tread spoke to his silent anger.

Leo leaned down near Mikey’s face and kept his tone gentle and even. “Mikey, buddy, we gotta go now. They’ll be coming back.” They’ll come back, and you're in no shape to fight .

He doubled down on his grip, rocking back and forth. “No! I didn't—I didn't mean to Leo— I'm sorry, I’m sorry—” The tears finally broke out. Shuddering, gut-wrenching sobs that made Leo want to curl up beside him and cry, too.

“I know Mikey,” he murmured. “Raph, can you—?”

Raphael put his arms around Mike slowly, easing him up off the ground while Donnie facilitated the moving of the body. Leo just stood there, useless in the face of of Mikey’s anguish.

Halfway to standing, Mike suddenly locked his knees and whirled around. He sobbed, gagged a few times, and finally threw up. He went limp against Raph then, continuing to cry so hard that it choked him.

“Mikey, Mikey, you hafta take a breath. I can't understand ya, bro.”

He took a shaky breath and turned to Leo this time when he said, “We can't leave him.”

“They usually come back for their own when we leave,” Donnie said, putting his hand on his brother’s shell.

He stayed quiet for a long moment, sniffling and catching his breath. “What do they do with them?”

The question struck Leo like a knife. If it were any other local, family-run mafia or even a gang like the purple dragons, he’d say they go to next of kin. But Shredder didn't play by their rule book, the one with an honor code and respect for the dead. He wouldn't be surprised to learn that they just incinerated the bodies, uniform and all.

This ninja—this boy —was someone’s son. Did his parents know what he was up to? Would they ever know what became of him, that he died with honor? An image flashed before him of Master Splinter, aging and heartbroken and crying like Mikey in that very moment. The knife twisted in his chest.

Without another word, Leonardo knelt and lifted the fallen ninja. He wouldn't ask it of any of his brothers, so it fell to him. 

“Raph, can you carry Mikey? We need to get out of here. Don, you bring up the rear and make sure we aren't followed. But don't stray too far.” Couldn't be too careful.

The two of them shook off the open shock and shifted into ninja mode. Raphael scooped Mikey up so gently, holding his head to his warm chest like he was just a turtle tot. Mikey, with his distant stare, didn't complain.

Don looked unsettled about the whole thing, but fell in step behind Raph as Leo took the lead. He felt like Mikey and Raph were too exposed back there, now more than ever he wanted eyes on them, but he wanted to be in the front if they ran into trouble. He could drop his passenger a lot faster than Raph.

Donnie signaled with a low whistle that the way was clear before Leo gently, awkwardly laid the foot on the pavements then slid the cover off their go-to sewer entrance.

“You okay bro?” Raph. Still uncharacteristically soft.

Mikey mumbled something noncommittal. Still, when Leo turned, he found him on his own two feet. 

He intentionally placed himself between Mikey and the dead body. “You go on first.”

He took a step toward the manhole, hesitated, and veered toward Leo.

Leo braced to grab Mike in the split second he had to think about it, sure he was going toward the foot again. All he managed to do was bring their plastrons together with a dull clack as Mikey wrapped his arms around him as tightly as he could. His fingers just barely touched each other around Leo’s shell.

“Sorry bro,” he mumbled.

Once his brain caught up with the situation, Leo hugged him back just as tight. He could feel Donnie’s gaze from the fire escape above, still keeping watch, and from the corner of his eye he could tell Raph was damn near about to cry.

Feet hit the ground behind him, and Donnie joined in the hug. “It’s okay,” he murmured.

Raph got his arms around as much of his brothers as he could. “Yeah, ya ain't got nothing to be sorry for.”

Leo rested his cheek on Mikey’s head as all four of them pretended not to cry.

Sometimes he forgot how young they were.

There was a lot of debate over what to do with the body. Once Mikey had gone silently to his room, Donnie made them graphically aware of how quickly decomposition set in, especially in a humid and bacteria-ridden environment like theirs. They didn't have any way to keep it cold or preserve it, so they had to figure out something fast. Even as they spoke about it, the body lay across one of Don’s cleared work tables with a thin sheet over it.

Leo had to admit to Master Splinter that he didn't think through it before he brought the body along. The part that went unspoken was that Donatello and Raph himself would have done it too—anything to soothe Mikey in that moment. Raph was only surprised that Leo beat them to it.

Sensei wasn't angry, which didn't surprise them. He only ever got angry when the Shredder was somehow involved. But he was worried sick that they’d been followed or tracked somehow, so after the initial ruckus died down, he had Leo and Raph patrol the surrounding tunnels while Donnie searched the body for any tracking device.

For once, Leo didn't have anything to say to him as they walked the tunnels. He kept his eyes mostly on the grimy ground below them, though the hand around his katana kept clenching and relaxing. Something about holding those swords comforted him more than Raph would ever understand.

"He's gonna be okay, y'know."

Leo looked over at him as if he'd forgotten he was there. "Yeah. I know."

They walked a few paces.

"Yeah, you sound real sure."

"I didn't know he hadn't—that he hadn't killed anyone yet. I mean, that's a shell of a bandaid to rip off."

"Yeah, you're tellin' me."

Leo began actually watching where they were going, but his hands kept flexing and twitching. Raph recognized that; he wanted to hit something.

"Are you gonna be okay?"

He smiled humorlessly. "I'm fine, Raph." A pause. "The first time I killed someone, I was alone."

"What? When?" Raph demanded. It came out more aggressive than concerned.

"When we got split up, after Shredder nearly creamed our shells. A foot ninja spotted me, and I panicked. I didn't know where you guys were, and I knew I couldn't face Shredder alone..."

"So you killed him," he finished quietly.

Leo nodded. "I slashed his throat before he had a chance to yell."

"Geez, Leo, I had no idea."

He shrugged, like it was no big deal, but Raph could hear the strain in his voice as he spoke. That was still a raw wound.

Well, as long as they were trading touchy-feely stuff. "I...I feel bad. I shoulda known somethin' would happen taking that bet. You can only deal so many head wounds before one of em kills somebody."

"It's my responsibility to manage our behavior when we're topside. If I had seen a problem with it, I'd have stopped you."

"Hm. Guess the only real issue here is that none of us is psychic, huh?"

"Yeah, you really need to get on that Raph. Don't you know you're supposed to be the team mystic?" Leo bumped his shoulder into Raph's.

He let out a loud laugh. "That's rich! Comin' from Mr. Mystic himself, hah!"

When they were finally satisfied that they were safe, they cleaned and put away their weapons side by side, then Raph hit the showers to get rid of the sewer stink. He hurried so that Leo could do the same, but mostly because he was itching to check on Mikey.

He stopped by Master Splinter’s room before heading upstairs. He and Don were inside, sharing a pot of tea and a heavy silence.

“Mikey?”

“Still in his room,” Don replied. “He was sleeping last time I checked in.”

Raph nodded. With a brief bow to Master Splinter, he headed up to the second floor, straight to Mikey’s room.

He didn't knock before entering, just made sure to do it a little noisier than necessary. Mikey’s salvaged Silver Sentry lamp provided just enough light to see the lump of blankets up on the platform bed. He listened carefully for Mikey’s breathing for a moment, then pushed the door closed behind him. As if on cue, the blanket lump started trembling, and he could hear Mikey’s ragged breathing. 

“Still here, knucklehead,” he said softly. There was no venom to it, he just couldn’t talk to Mikey anymore without calling him names. It felt wrong.

Mikey flipped over in bed and peeked just the top of his head out of the blankets. His eyes were bloodshot.

“Scoot over, I'm comin’ up.”

Mikey shuffled up to the wall until his shell touched it. Still, he and Raph only barely fit side-by-side.

Raphael folded his hands across his chest and stared at the posters on the ceiling. He hadn't thought about what he would say, just that he didn't want his bro to be alone. After a moment, Mikey shifted closer to rest his cheek against Raph’s shoulder. With a perfectly practiced air of carelessness, Raph put his cheek against the top of his head.

Not long ago, they’d shared beds like this every night. They didn't have their own rooms in the old lair, there simply weren't rooms to be had. As kids, the four of them slept in a nest of blankets and salvaged pillows or couch cushions. When they outgrew that, it was a queen sized mattress. And when they outgrew that , it became two queen-sizes, pressed beside each other in a corner. Being cold-blooded, they usually ended up more or less in a big warm puddle by morning, all leeching body heat off each other.

The privacy of having his own room was nice, but if there was a gun to his head, Raph would have to admit that he missed the closeness.

“You okay?”

Mike shrugged.

The silence lapsed over them again.

“That the first time you killed one?” Oh. Shell. He had not meant to say that.

To his credit, Mikey just nodded.

“Y’know…Sensei’s always sayin’ how it’s easy to kill a guy, ‘n way harder to just hurt ‘em.”

“I know I messed up,” he said thickly.

“That's not—ugh.” Raph grumbled to himself. Why was he so bad at this? “I just mean…we all know ya didn't mean it, Mikey. None of us are masters yet, no matter how bad Leo wants to be. It happens.”

“I killed him. Why are you so chill about that?”

“‘Cause you didn't do it to hurt him, you did it to protect Donnie . Think of it this way: nobody’s forcin’ these goons to do Shredder’s dirty work. They can walk away whenever they wanna, but they’re choosing to fight us. They gotta deal with the consequences, even if we didn't mean ‘em.”

Mikey thought on that for a long while. Raph was starting to think he’d nodded off when he spoke up again. “When did you…y’know?”

He hadn't had to answer that question yet. If he was being honest with himself, he’d probably killed a handful of people already. Maybe more than that. Sometimes he just got so angry , and taking it out on dirtbags doing wrong was always better than taking it out on his family. He justified it by saying they were no-good thugs, people who weren't contributing anything useful to society, but he knew too much to really buy into that shit. He grew up on Splinter’s spiritualism and mindfulness, he meditated, he was pretty sure he and his brothers had a supernatural ability to predict the others’ thoughts and needs during battle—he knew all life has value. But he still buried it under self-righteousness and didn't let it keep him up at night.

“Garbage Man,” he finally answered. “Some guy had a gun on Leo’s shell. I buried a sai in his heart down to the hilt. Couldn't eat for a couple days after that.”

Mikey squirmed a little. Raph didn't blame him.

“You’re the only one who hadn't yet.”

“Is Sensei mad?”

“You kiddin’? He's worried outta his mind. He probably knows just how bad it feels.”

“Is…is Leo mad?”

Raph softened. “No, Mikey, he ain't mad. He’s proud of ya.”

He snorted doubtfully. “I had a nuclear meltdown, bro.”

“Yeah. But you care . When me ‘n Leo killed the first time, we fuckin’ walked away, shit happens. But you stopped. Mikey you tried to save the guy for Pete's sake, we’re all proud of ya. You’re makin’ us look bad.”

He laughed. It was a little one, nothing like his usual boisterous laugh, but it was a start.

“And hey, I'm sorry. Shouldn't have taken that bet. No more bettin’ on hurting people, okay?”

“I can live with that.” He let out a long sigh and snuggled closer to Raph. His breathing had leveled out, and his heartbeat against Raph’s elbow was noticeably lower too. “Will you stay here?”

Raph pulled his arm away from his side and tucked his bicep under Mikey’s head, making himself into a pillow/teddy bear combination. “Sure thing bro.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled. In minutes, he was asleep.

The next morning, an interesting story hit the news. The body of a young man in black, dead for at least twelve hours, was found on the back door of an unnamed NYPD precinct with no identification on him. There was a note pinned to his shirt that said only ‘ it was an accident ’. He was identified shortly after a description began to circulate, and buried by his parents and sister shortly thereafter.

No killer was ever found.

[pb-dot]

Film Friday: Friday 13th Part VI: Jason Lives

Listen, this is silly. I know it's silly and I'm doing it anyway. Since this is a Friday 13th during the spookiest of months, and I happen to have a favorite Friday 13th movie, I feel I have to tell you about it. Part 6 is not good per se, I usually stress when recommending this one, but it is fun, and it's fun in a way I think is rather unique for the genre. So, without further ado, let's get our Chi-Chi-Chi Ah-Ah-Ah on.

The movie picks up some years after somewhat troubling Survivor Tween Tommy Jarvis ended Jason Voorhees' killing spree with quick thinking, some improvised stagecraft, and a disconcerting level of violence. There's also some interstitial messy business with a copycat killer in Tommy's teens, but the franchise would rather we don't dwell on that, so let us move quickly onward.

Tommy fears that the notoriously resilient murderer and dogged abstinence advocate won't stay dead for long and seeks out Jason's grave to make sure. Long story short, Jason's body gets struck by lightning. In the tradition of Hammer Horror, this reanimates the murder machine, and we're off to the races.

There is more plot as Tommy strives to convince the local constabulary that there is indeed an inhumanly strong super-zombie out there murdering folks, but that's not really what the movie is about. No, this is very much Jason's story as he stabs, slashes, slams, vehicular manslaughters, and bludgeons his way through the newly rechristened Forest Green.

The kills and ludicrous slasher action are in focus, and there is a decidedly slapsticky tone to the violence. What's interesting about part 6, though, is how it seems to do a better job than objectively sillier slashers, primarily my old frenemy Freddy Krueger. Part of it, I believe, is delivery. Jason put plainly, doesn't look like he's telling a joke. This stone-faced approach makes the grotesque little gags that he comes up with or otherwise commits all the funnier for it.

I'm also fond of how this movie commits to its own interpretation of Jason. Turning Jason into an improbably resilient gentleman out on a murder spree into this undead juggernaut was a clever move to keep the movies coming, as well as really turning up the violence our non-Jason protagonists get to heap on the world's most sincerely dedicated Momma's Boy.

In fact, I would go as far as to say I like the ending to Part VI, in part because the finale has a very franchise-friendly sense of stakes. Our hero Tommy could conceivably get the better of Jason and thus complete a happy ending of sorts, but there's no need to get defensive about what sort of plot BS will justify Jason being back to the slashing in the next one because he's an unkillable murder machine at this point, and getting back to slashing is kind of the only thing he does.

In closing, I like Friday 13th Part VI: Jason Lives because it's a silly thrill ride of blood and gore with a kind heart pulsating somewhere deep beneath all the viscera. There is self-awareness in the movie but of the kind that allows them to play with and change genre conventions, which is a vastly superior sense of self-awareness to the smug navel-gazing that's come to be the approach du jour. It should also be mentioned that the movie has some vintage 80's Alice Cooper on the soundtrack, which is also quite the experience. Shared below in case you have forgotten or never had the pleasure of experiencing Cooper's kinky horror rock oeuvre.

[midnightactual]

"Oh... Hmm..." Well, perhaps this was actually vaguely awkward. If he could tell that kind of thing by her 'casual and regular normal person' level of reiatsu emission she only kept up as a courtesy to others to avoid her presence being incredibly disconcerting, what all else could he tell?

She and Kūkaku were quite... uninhibited... as newlyweds and although that didn't (yet) extend to full reiatsu releases—neither of them were all that keen on everybody within the same horizon knowing what they were up to with all the subtlety of a strategic nuke going off—she was pretty sure there'd be evidence in terms of reiatsu. Namely, either her wife's curling off of her, or intermixed with and tinging her own—or both.

It hadn't been an issue yet, given the peacetime conditions and all; nobody was investigating that hard, and probably only that silly stray Grimmjow was attuned and uncouth—as well as bold!—enough to comment on it, if he did notice. But perhaps someone always looking at reiatsu might see it...

"If that's the case, guess I better stay set to 'barely there'. Wouldn't want to temporarily blind you all over again from the Matrix Code of inner beauty. Maybe don't investigate too closely either though; you might notice things you can't unnotice. Anyway, I take it her energy becomes her?"

"I assure you, I can tell how....well endowed you are by your reiatsu. One of the saving graces of losing my vision was I gained this 'second sight' as I've grown to call it. I guess I see beauty in other ways then worrying about things like that. Might be why me and Rangiku have developed such a friendship." He said as he leaned over the railing and let out a long drag of smoke.

[neitherlightnordark]

Now, you have an extraordinary amount of time and the entire void at your disposal, and yet your ability to come up with an idea you actually like has been rendered null. Nothing. Rararrgh.

You are floating through the void with a notebook and a red pencil with an anatomically accurate human brain eraser on one end (you love that red pencil! It has chew marks all over it. Asriel would be so mad).

And you are squinting down at the first page of your notebook, which has holes stabbed, into it and scribble marks over scribble marks, and a huge word written and bolded in its center: FREEDOM.

The concept of freedom is so nebulous, so complex, so personal to you- how can you possibly boil down all your spiraling ideas about it into one narrative thread, one interpretation, when EVERYTHING is good and NOTHING is good? Everything you're writing down is TRASH. And it could be so. much. better.

Your name is Chara (just Chara), and you are nine years old and a Narrator and a newly official scientist who could do so much better with your ideas than you are now.

However! However, instead of screaming (which is against the rules, you remember from a distant timeline- and then you ball that memory up and throw it into the trash), you shut the notebook and float through the hypothetical to where he probably is.

He's behind a door, as usual.

"Greetings, Doctor," you say, opening it without knocking.

"HELLO, MY CHILD," the Doctor says, without turning around.

It looks like he's in Snowdin this time, in a clump of pines under the shade of a great cliff. There is a cottage nearby with an unlit lamp in its window.

"What is this place?" you ask him, closing the door behind you.

"ANOTHER HOME," he says.

You stand next to him and watch snow fall through both of you, making little piles inside your feet. It isn't cold at all. You don't know if Gaster has feet.

"Do you have feet?" you ask him.

"I HAVE, IN FACT, EXACTLY. ONE. FOOT."

"Like a snail," you say.

"THAT S RIGHT. JUST LIKE A SNAIL." Gaster's lower body ripples, as though to prove his point. Or maybe that's one way he shows emotion. In this case, what emotion would it be? Amusement? Excitement, at being able to show off a curiousity of his new body? Is it still new to him, as new as a place outside time and space would let something be? How long has it taken, to get used to a melting body?

(For you, it didn't take long at all. But maybe for dragon skeletons, or whatever he was before, it's different.)

"WHY WERE YOU LOOKING FOR ME, CHARA?" he asks, as a chilly gust picks up and begins tossing fallen snowflakes about.

"Your assignment." You draw out your notebook like a weapon. "I am... struggling with bringing it to perfection."

"IT DOES NOT NEED TO BE PERFECT. ALL THAT IS NEEDED. IS FOR YOU TO EXPRESS HOW YOU FEEL."

"Then I am having trouble expressing how I feel!" Your face twists. "I'm- I'm sorry."

"YOU SHOULD NOT. APOLOGIZE FOR SOMETHING THAT IS NOT YOUR FAULT." A hand emerges from the Doctor's form. "WILL YOU SHOW ME WHAT YOU HAVE ACCOMPLISHED?"

Your face flushes with warmth as you hand your notebook over to Gaster. He opens it to the first page and, presumably, begins scanning it (you can't really tell, since he doesn't have eyelights, or eyes).

"VERY INTERESTING," he says.

"The problem isn't my ability to come up with ideas," you add quickly, face reddening further around your blister scars. "I simply haven't come up with one I find worthwhile. And knowing we have all the time needed, conventionally speaking, doesn't mean that everyone won't grow impatient. They deserve-" You begin gesturing frantically. "They deserve something worthwhile! Something that has something for everyone! And, and-"

"DO TRY TO CALM YOURSELF," Gaster suggests, flipping the first page over to find that the second page is blank.

"Oh. Right." You lift your hands up and push down on an imaginary object, letting out your breath. "I'm... calm. Yes. My apologies, sir."

"YOU ARE FINE." Gaster hands the notebook back to you, although his hand stays close. "YOUR BELIEFS ABOUT OUR. EXPECTATIONS. ARE NOT UNFOUNDED. AND FOR THAT, I APOLOGIZE."

He folds his hand over one of yours- his very large, and yours suddenly very tiny. "THIS SHOULD NOT BE STRESSFUL FOR YOU. WE DO THIS. FOR YOU AS WELL. YOU MUST REALIZE THIS."

You look down at his hand, frowning.

Gaster hesitates, and starts to pull away- only to stick to your hand. "OH."

He attempts to push himself off with another hand, and then another, until there are several large hands floating about. "OH, GOODNESS ME. OH MY."

You hesitate, trying very hard not to smile- you must admit this is very silly, no matter how many times he does it.

"JUST A MOMENT. THIS IS QUITE. IMPROPER." Gaster's eyelights flicker on in his empty eye sockets. "OH DEAR. CHARA. HELP ME."

You finally crack a bright smile, drawing your dagger. "Alright, alright, I will."

After a while of concentrating on cutting Gaster loose (is it weird to say that slicing off a friend's goop is almost exactly like pruning vines?), you finally say, "...can you help me? I don't think... I don't think I can figure this one out myself."

"OF COURSE," Gaster says as you slice the last tendril off with a schlorp. "TEAMWORK. MAKES. THE DREAM WORK."

You stare at him for a moment, and then burst into full-on cackling, falling to the snowy ground.

"WHAT."

"Did- did you get that from-" You wheeze. "I-"

Gaster looks disconcerted. "I CAME UP WITH IT MYSELF."

This does not help you stop laughing in the slightest.

-

"SO," Gaster says, as the two of you drift through the void, with you tapping your pencil against your notebook. "WHAT COMES TO MIND. WHEN YOU THINK OF THE CONCEPT OF FREEDOM?"

"A..." You pause, curling into yourself. "A... human child." You glance at him. "Don't laugh."

"NO, NO. OF COURSE NOT." Gaster gestures. "WRITE IT DOWN."

"A... a human child with all the power they could ever hope for," you add after a moment, scribbling a child with hidden, shaded eyes into your book. "But... the best characters are ones with contradictions, aren't they? So... what if this power... doesn't give them freedom at all? What if it imprisons them- takes their agency away?"

"YES, YES," says Gaster, smiling. "KEEP GOING."

The two of you keep writing and thinking into the night.

[fallout-drabbles-n-stuff]

Fluff?🤔 How would romanced male companions react to feeling Sole’s pregnant belly kick for the first time?

Yesssss

(Like I usually do with the longer drabble-ish things, I'll do a couple of them that I have the most inspiration for and ya'll can request individuals if you so please! I'm more than likely going to add gage and Hancock later when I can think of more ways to introduce this without it being regurgitated.)

Danse:

It had almost became a little game your unborn child liked to play. Danse was certainly not a fan. See, every time your babe would kick- it would either be when Danse wasn't in the room and preoccupied or, and this is truly funny, you'd call Danse over and the child would completely stop- leaving their usually stoic father grinning like an idiot with his hand against your stomach, waiting for almost minutes to feel them...just to be let down yet again.

Poor danse even began to accept he might not ever get to feel the baby kick, which was of course completely unacceptable. As such, you stayed with Danse in the garage the majority of the day- purposefully playing Diamond City Radio a little louder than what was necessary. It would probably sound strange to tell, but certain songs seem to make your baby more active.

Thankfully, Danse was privy to your plan and was careful not to mess with anything that would potentially require careful precision and all of his attention.

Sure enough, "Anything Goes" began to play- and as if on cue- your child gave a rather expected kick.

"Danse.." You carefully spoke, fearing that your baby would somehow hear their father's name being called and stop moving once again.

The ex-Paladin's amber eyes grew saucer sized as he padded his way towards you- hand already outstretched and waiting for your guidance. With an almost silly sense of victory, you took his hand and pressed it right to the area the baby was kicking.

Finally- after so many failures- Danse felt his baby kick. The sensation alone almost immediately sent tears to his eyes, threatening to spill while giving his eyes a glassy look.

"This was worth the wait.." He managed to say, a content sigh leaving him right after he spoke.

Macready:

It was at night, right after you tucked Duncan and Shaun in. Mac was reading them a story or.. more or less improvising one while you got ready to settle in for the night.

Perhaps a couple minutes into you tucking yourself in, Mac finally came in with a tired- yet happy look on his face.

"Things really just can't get any better, huh?" He spoke, taking your thoughts and making them a reality as you eyed him up until he finally rolled into bed.

"My thoughts exactly, Mac." You replied, quick to curl up at his side the second the opportunity was presented.

The peacefulness provided was truly sweet. No rambunctious little boys yelling at each other, no raiders threatening to shoot up the place...no nausea..just you and the person you loved the very most in all the wide wasteland. That much was something you considered yourself quite lucky to have...however before you could let the sweet temptation of sleep sweep over you-

"Was that-" Mac interjected, having fortunately had his hand placed right on your stomach to feel-

"Oh holy crap, the baby!" Mac all but squealed, completely ruining the comfortable position you were in as he positioned himself to better feel.

"Jeez Mac.." You laughed, watching his pretty baby blue eyes widen with a crooked little grin.

Maxson:

"Arthur...Arthur come see, quick!"

Had you not been in the..*ahem*..state that you are currently in, such an interruption would've been met with his icy blue eyes peering over his shoulder and a simple "hmmm", the man silently hoping whatever needed his attention wouldn't require it for long so he could finish his work for the night.

Nevertheless, thanks to your current state, the usually composed Elder Maxson all but fell out his chair in his haste to be at your side. Pregnancy, as one might've guessed, was a horrifyingly wonderful anomaly for Arthur. He was so very excited, yet he was equally worried for obvious reasons- not to mention the looming fear of being such a young father and the inadequacy he already felt.

The blue eyes man stumbled to your side, just nearly missing the post of the bed of which you sat. "Is something wrong?!" He asked with a rather humorous shakiness to his voice. He couldn't help it- the hand on your stomach, cradling that precious swell, only filled him with fear...so much so that he couldn't look past it and see the happy smile on your face.

Before your love could give himself a heart attack, you simply laughed and took his hand, pressing it to your lower stomach. This only brought about a very confused, almost disturbed look from him- that is until he finally felt it.

As though feeling their father's presence, the unborn babe once again kicked- immediately changing Arthur's expression from one of deep disconcert to one of shock.

"I-is, is that them?" He asked in a small voice, his expression softening by the second and a slight gentleness seeming to glisten in his eyes. "What do you think?" Was your teasing reply, your hand slowly withdrawing from his.

Instead of thinking of some long, beautifully orchestrated line to express his awe- Arthur just kind of stared. However he soon descended, finally sitting on his knees in front of you and between your legs- patiently waiting for the next kick.

"Hey baby.."

And just like that, Arthur gave one of the most remarkable smiles you've ever seen. Not only because of the rarity, but because of the genuine love behind it.

[wrenhyperfixates]

It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: It’s the Christmas season and Loki still has much to learn. Thankfully, he has his favorite little mortal to teach him all about it. Warnings: just straight fluff A/N: Alright, it’s December, and you know what that means: time for Christmas fics! Hope you enjoy my first installment for the holiday season. Happy reading folks :)

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant​​ @lunarmoon8​ @twhiddlestonsstuff​ @lokistan​ @thelokiimaginechroniclesficrecs​

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

It was bizarre, thought Loki, how seemingly overnight the world was lit up with red and green everything. Lights, wreaths, trees, inflatable decorations; you name it, and Loki could spot it from any corner in NYC. Everyone he passed seemed to be filled with joy, ready to start singing at any second. It was disconcerting, to say the least. Normally, people would give him the side-eye, but lately they passed by with a quick nod or wave. Loki doubted it had little to do with him and much more to do with the Christmas spirit floating in the air.

Ah, Christmas. He knew a decent amount about it, but had never paid too much mind to it. After all, it wasn’t like he ever really planned on living on Midgard. It was just the way things worked out. Now he wished he’d taken a bit more of an interest, for this fat, bearded, old man in a red suit made very little sense to him. And yet, he was everywhere this time of year. Though he could have asked any one of the Avengers about it, he refused to risk being teased. It should be easy enough to learn about if he truly desired to.

Loki marveled at the world in a sort of confused awe as he walked back to the Tower. This time of the year on Midgard, while so disagreeable to many, was perfectly fine with him. The bitter cold of the city at wintertime barely even felt like a summer breeze to him. One of the perks of being a perpetually cold frost giant, he supposed, was that you didn’t notice the freezing temperatures. As for those who did, well, he didn’t get why those silly little mortals didn’t just go somewhere warmer. You’d explained to him, once, that not everyone could afford to just pack up and move as they could on Asgard. A terrible shame, he thought, and he wished that he could do something to help, not that he would ever admit it. Feeling particularly generous, he dropped a one hundred-dollar bill in one of those collection bins that always popped up this time of year. It was guarded by yet another one of those strange, bearded men ringing a bell.

Hugging his so dark-green-it-was-almost-black peacoat to him, he rounded the final corner to get back home. Much like his gloves, it was more for style than anything else. Besides, no need to draw more attention to himself by dressing too lightly in the winter weather. Taking one last glance at the world around him, Loki pushed through the doors of the Avengers Tower.

“What in the Nine?” he sputtered as he was hit with a mouthful of glitter.

“Sorry, Mr. Loki,” Peter apologized. “We’re just decorating for Christmas.”

“By throwing glitter around?”

“Yeah. Why not? It’s Christmas, everything is glittery,” he said with a shrug.

“That, I can tell you,” Loki replied, patting Peter’s shoulder as he passed, “is absolutely true.”

All his other teammates seemed to be as excited about decorating as Peter was, though no one else was just haphazardly throwing that infernal sparkly dust. No, they were all using their special talents to hang garlands up from high balconies and banisters. Large ornaments and snowflakes were hanging from the ceiling. Every floor that Loki walked to was filled with merriment and yet more Christmas adornments. How they were put up so fast, the trickster god had no idea.

The common room was, much to his surprise, the least decorated place in the Tower so far. The team must have been saving this room for last, perhaps to do all together. Loki would have been upset that he wasn’t invited, but he was sure it was mentioned in one of those email blasts he always ignored. Now that he thought of it, he did remember seeing it in something that he skimmed. Regardless, this was a nice break from the hubbub in the rest of his home at the moment. In this room, there was only a tree put up and his angel working on prepping it. You.

“It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas,” you sang to the music you had blasting through the room, unaware of Loki’s presence. “Everywhere you go.”

He watched in wonder as you twirled about the floor, taking out ornaments and other assorted trimmings for the tree. You grabbed a silver and gold garland and began the tedious process of wrapping it around the artificial branches, still belting your heart out. Though Loki was unfamiliar with the words, he caught on to the tune and began humming along, startling you ever so slightly. He walked up to you and grabbed your hand, joining in your spinning and dancing. Prancing around the room with you, Loki was filled with unbridled joy, and he thought he might be beginning to understand the reason for all the joy the season brings.

As you sang the final notes, you and the God of Mischief collapsed onto the couch amidst the boxes of Christmas knick-knacks, laughing your heads off. When you tried to get up, Loki pulled you back down to him, starting another fit of giggles.

“And how is my little mortal today?” he asked, playfully ticking you a little.

“I’d be a lot better if you let me finish decorating,” you teased, poking his chest.

He sighed and relinquished you back to your duties, watching you walk back toward the tree. If only he had the courage to tell you how he feels, rather than just admiring you from afar. You were best friends, sure, but he longed for more. Much more.

“Loki,” you called in a sing-song voice, batting your eyes. “Can you help me, please?”

“Of course, little one.”

He helped you string the garland the rest of the way around the tree, using his magic to get even the highest boughs. You squealed in delight as you admired your work so far, throwing your arms around Loki to thank him for his help.

Soon, the rest of the team joined you and began to hang the ornaments. No one particularly cared about where they were put, just that everyone was having fun. Loki tried to stay on the outskirts of the activity, but everyone kept pulling him back in. It made him happier than he cared to admit that they all concerned themselves with him participating. That they wanted him to participate.

“What do you think, Mr. Loki? Here?” Peter questioned as he held up an ornament in a prospective spot. “Or here?”

“The first spot, I suppose.”

“No,” Thor chimed in, making Peter worried he was going to start one of their infamous sibling battles. “The second spot, for certain.”

“I guess. I still do not understand most of this ‘Christmas’ stuff, to be quite honest.”

“Well, why did you not say so, brother?”

“Yeah, we can teach you all about it,” you added, showing up beside them. Then you snapped your fingers, getting an idea. “The tree lighting is tonight! At Rockefeller Center. We should go to that!”

“That’s a perfect idea,” Peter agreed. “So it’s set then. A crash course, then a field trip to see the tree lighting!”

Loki smiled at his friends as they bustled around him, planning the rest of the day. He couldn’t wait for later, and it made the rest of the time spent decorating even more enjoyable. Between the constant singing and cracking of jokes, there was not a dull moment to be found. While it would have usually drained Loki, he felt as lively as ever. Maybe there truly was something special about the season, after all.

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

Hours later, Loki stood with his teammates as incognito as possible in Rockefeller Center. It had been agreed that they just wanted to be normal people for one, not celebrities. To keep your group warm, Loki had cast a heating enchantment that they were all more than grateful for as they waited for the tree to light. In the last minutes before it was set to shine through the night, you summarized your lessons on the holiday.

“So,” you began, “I guess it’s basically a time for love, showing others how much they mean to you. And sure, there’s all the commercial stuff about candy canes and elves and trees and Santa Claus, which is nice and all, but that’s not the real meaning. It’s about being with those you care about and spreading goodwill to all.”

Loki thought back to all the times he’d needed a little charity or a helping hand, or really just to be shown he was loved. There were certainly a plethora of scenarios to pick from in his life. A whole season to spread cheer and show everyone things are not as hopeless as they seem sounded like a splendid idea indeed.

“I quite like the sound of that,” he said with a smile. As you looked back at him, an equally warm glow adorning your features, Loki realized there was one person he loved more than anyone else. With a sudden burst of confidence, he went to tell you exactly how he felt. “I must say this now, I-”

He was cut off as the crowd began the countdown. You gave him an apologetic smile as the both of you joined in. Upon reaching the last number, the tree lit up, filling Loki with a warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest. That was only accentuated when you grabbed his hand, bursting with excitement and awe. Once the cheering went down, and your group began to depart, you remembered Loki had been about to say something to you.

“What was it that you wanted to tell me before?” you asked. “Before the countdown.”

“Oh,” he said, clearing his throat. He’d already lost his nerve. “It was nothing urgent. I hardly even remember now. Another time, perhaps.”

“Well, that’s ok,” you replied, though you sounded a little disappointed. “Whenever you remember is fine.”

Back at the Tower, everyone said goodnight and parted ways to go to bed, exhausted from the busy day. In the hall between your rooms, you and Loki stopped to say goodnight one final time. You paused mid-sentence, spying something green hanging from the ceiling above you. Loki followed your gaze upward and immediately went a shade of red that put Rudolph’s nose to shame. Even before all your lessons from the day, he knew mistletoe when he saw it. And, of course, the tradition that went with it.

He heard snickering from around the corner and spotted Peter and Thor waiting for one of you to make your move. Undoubtedly, they'd fabricated the situation to try to get you together faster than you were going by yourselves. To be fair, at said pace, you’d never be together.

“Just kiss already!” Thor shouted before ducking away to give you some privacy.

“Pardon my brother,” Loki said self-consciously. “If you do not wish to, there is no law saying-”

He was cut off for the second time that night. This time, however, it was by something much more pleasurable. You had stood up on your tip toes and placed a kiss to his cheek, too sheepish to do much else.

“Night, Loki,” you said to the still stunned god. “Talk tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow indeed, my little mortal,” he said, pulling you in for another kiss, this time on the lips.

Oh yes, it was decided. This season was magical.

[siiinfully]

She loved how excited he got over something most people would consider simple. Lois couldn’t help but giggle and shake her head to reassure him that it was anything but silly, though it was his sudden sullenness over her declaration at returning to work that surprised her. And, quite frankly, it pleased her to know that there was still someone out there who cared how long or how little she spent at work. Like they preferred to spend as much time with her while giving her the freedom to pursue what she was passionate about. It almost made her want to extend her vacation, maybe go to Florida with Connor for a week, but she wasn’t sure if they should.

“I know. But I’ve been putting it off for a while now. I just…” she sighed. She’d promised herself that she wouldn’t talk about her previous relationship with Connor’s dad if she could help it, but there was no other way she could excuse her decision to return early. “…I need something to distract me, Connor. If I stay home for too long, I’ll think of him. And I don’t think either of us needs to deal with me bawling and sniffling the entire day. It’s not fair to you.”

Maybe he was too young to understand, but a part of her selfishly hoped that he did. Lois did think that she and Clark would be together forever. Her entire mindset had been geared to having that future with him, so to have that rug yanked out from under her was disconcerting to say the least. At least he wasn’t giving her updates whether he had moved on and was starting dating something; Lois knew she was strong, but hearing of his dating life so soon after their separation would be too much, even for someone like her.

“I want to forget. But I know it won’t be easy.” It was looking like talking about it had been a wrong decision because she started to tear up. Lois had kept her emotions in for so long, bottling them up until now, now that they had been given a tiny opening, they were spilling forth. Not wanting to subject Connor to it, she quickly stood up and excused herself, eager to get away from him before she started bawling her eyes out, the easiest way to express how heartbroken she still was.

Finding herself alone, she took several shuddering breaths to try and calm herself, though she ended up with her legs bent at the knee, her knees tucked under her chin. She hated turning dinner into such an emotional affair, and she wanted to apologize to Connor once she was calm and not sobbing as hard as she was.

"Well I don't have heat vision, so I need to have a special set of personal grooming tools to keep myself presentable, like scissors, hair clippers, nail clippers, and a straight razor. All of which are enchanted by Zatara from the Justice League," he got a really neat box that opened only for him too. "It seems silly, I know." When she put her hand up to show him, his brain defaulted to what he was going to do and inspect her for injury, but he was so excited to share this little tidbit of information he didn't do that. Conner simply held on to her hand as he spoke.

He held on to it for quite a while actually.

"They're nothing super fancy, but they get the job done." Should he tell her he fully prepared with them before this? Shaved his face, trimmed around his... he just wanted to be presentable and wanted to be prepared. He just got rather ahead of himself and went overboard with it. Kryptonians like speedsters tended to overthink with how their brains tended to be quite a bit faster. Even though he didn't have super speed either.

Conner was still holding her hand.

Her skin was soft, and she was warm. He found his fingers just gingerly petting her, his thumb rubbing the side occasionally bumping against her thumb. He kinda wasn't all that hungry anymore, even after he watched her move some things closer for him.

"Tomorrow night?" He said protestant in his tone, that was too soon, he loved her this, he didn't want her to go. His grip on tightened a bit, but so very much possessively. "Isn't that a bit soon for a personal vacation to end? Can't the Planet function without Lois Lane for a little while longer?"

No one ever spent time with him like this, talked to him like this, like they cared. Just listen to how he blabbed on about his personal shaving kit. No one else would give a crap about that... He retreated a bit, letting his hand drop from hers and rest, still protestantly, on the table beside hers, as he looked off to the side at an empty table much like theirs frustrated and unable to even make eye contact anymore, even though her eyes were so pretty. He found he had to glance back her way, hidden in a blink, made sure that they were still pretty. Yep. Then he focused back at the other table again. Pouting.

@siiinfully

[xjoonchildx]

airplane, pt. 2 | jjk x reader chapter five: home

pairing: jungkook/reader

word count: 2.9K rating: 18+

genre: smut | silly smut | nonsensical smut

warnings:  criminal!jungkook, koreanamerican!jungkook, reality has left the chat, plausibility has left the chat

A/N: i've never had so much anxiety posting an update. next time i decide to fly by the seat of my pants and turn a one-shot into a full chaptered fic, just punch me in the face, okay?

all kidding aside, standard smut warnings apply to this chapter and i really hope you guys like it.

xoxo

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06

artwork by the shmexy @ppersonna​ who’s smut is even better than her art

*****************************

“You broke into my house.”

It takes you a solid minute to find the breath to power that shaky sentence.

Your legs are already like noodles from your run and at this point they are threatening to come right out from underneath you. You reach a hand out to the wall to stop yourself from hitting the deck.

Jungkook stands slowly from where he’s seated on the couch, a careful smile on his lips.  

“You gonna call the cops?”

You stare at him.

Jungkook is in the country.  In Los Angeles. In your living room .  

He’s wearing a leather jacket over a t-shirt and jeans and his hair is cut short again.  He is alive and in one piece and looks somehow even more handsome than he did the last time you saw him.  How does he do that?

You’re so distracted by Jungkook -- in your fucking house -- that you miss the look of concern that comes over him the longer you stand there without saying something.  It’s like your brain is hung up -- glitching -- trying to process the scene in front of you.

“You okay?”

“You broke into my house ,” you say again, as though that should answer his question.

“That is a matter of semantics,” Jungkook argues.  “I would say that I let myself in because I knew you wouldn’t want me just standing around outside. Aren’t you the one always telling me to keep a low profile?”

A disbelieving laugh bubbles up your chest.

His sarcasm is comforting, even right now, when your heart is still racing and you can’t seem to stop sweating and you’ve just realized that you’re pretty fucking pissed that he dropped off the radar and didn’t contact you for weeks.  

“So we should probably talk, huh?”

“You think?”

Now it’s his turn to laugh. He sinks back down onto the couch and gestures for you to join him. 

You don’t.

“How the hell did you get here?” you demand.

“Same way I got out, pretty much,” he shrugs.  “Mexico. Hitched a ride to San Diego and Yoongi was able to pick me up there. Good thing I’m not from Iowa or some shit, huh?”

He aims a hopeful smile at you like he’s searching for a way to connect but you don’t return it.

A flash of disappointment crosses his face.

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “Good thing.”

You look down to his lap.  His hands haven’t stopped moving, fingers winding together and unwinding over and over.  He’s nervous.  

Well, good.

“I’m gonna turn myself in tomorrow,” he says after a long moment.

He knocks the wind out of you with that.

“Holy shit,” you breathe.

“Yeah.  Turns out, I’m being represented by some incredibly-connected, high-dollar attorney.”  He looks up and fixes you with those dark, hypnotic eyes. “Any idea where I could have gotten one of those?”

Seokjin, you fucking angel.

“Maybe,” you murmur.  “What did he say?”

“Well, he told me to get my happy ass back to the States.  Said the Marshals would appreciate me walking in on my own as opposed to having to drag me back.  Said I’m going to have to eat some crow if I expect them to listen to anything I have to say.”

He rubs a hand across the back of his neck, against the grain of the now short hairs at his nape.

“Told me to get a haircut, too.”

That makes you smile.  Jin is nothing if not thorough.

“So what does -- “ you clear your throat, “ -- your attorney say about what happens after that?”

“No way to know for sure,” Jungkook admits.  “They could lock me up and throw away the key or they could decide on something else.  Kind of a roll of the dice at this point.”

Your chest squeezes at the thought of Jungkook walking into that Federal Building and leaving in a transport van.  You shut your eyes like that will somehow stop the mental image.

“And you’re turning yourself in anyway.”

He fidgets with his ear like an anxious kid.  

“Yeah.”

“Alright,” you say on a shaky exhale.  “Okay. Wow.”

A tense silence falls between you.

“I need you to talk to me,” Jungkook says after a moment. “I need to know where your head is at right now.”

Do you know how hard I went to bat for you? you want to scream, which is unfair, really.  He’s never asked you for your help. Everything you’ve done, you’ve done on your own. But now he’s here and in front of you and you are practically buzzing with the urge to vent your frustration at him.

“Why didn’t I hear from you?”  

You hope like hell you’re the only one who can hear the thread of insecurity in your voice.  “You had the burner number and I just -- never heard from you again. And now you’re in my house.”

“I know,” he admits.  His fingers keep lacing together, unlacing. “I know it’s really fucked up to just ambush you like this. It’s just that shit got really hairy for me in Nicaragua. These guys stole my phone.”

“But you managed to call Yoongi,” you snap.

“Well yeah,” he fires back. “We’ve known each other since we were kids.  I’ve had his number for years. I got in touch with him as soon as I could get my hands on a new burner.”

You tell yourself to relax.

You tell yourself that it’s a totally plausible explanation and put a hand to your forehead as though you expect to be able to feel your temperature coming down.  As though you’ll be able to feel the anger draining out of you until all that’s left is the relief that he’s here, that he’s okay.

You take a deep breath, release the tension that’s had you wound so tight.

“I left the bureau.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, “Did they -- Did I -- “

“Don’t give yourself too much credit,”  you cut in, rolling your eyes. “It wasn’t really about you.  Not all of it, anyway.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but thinks better of it. There is a melancholy in his eyes that unnerves you.

You’ve seen him cocky and arrogant and unrepentant and flirtatious. But this — this hat-in-hand version of him, devoid of his trademark bravado is so disconcerting.  

He looks away from you, back down to his hands.  You wrap your arms around yourself and take a moment to just look at him, to appreciate his striking face.  You think back to the first time you saw that face, how dumbfounded you’d been by his physical appearance.

Then he opened his mouth and your fate was sealed.

One way or another this debacle ends in just a few short hours.

The rational part of you craves a conclusion to this insanity, an end to the near-constant anxiety you’ve felt for months now.  But there’s the other part of you that worries this will end with Jungkook behind bars for the rest of his life. You don’t know if you’re ready to accept that just yet.

“Can you um --“ Jungkook wets his lips, “-- can you come sit with me?”

“Yeah,” you agree quietly.  

You cross the room and slide next to him on the couch.  

He reaches for your hands, but does not meet your eyes.  His fingers stroke over your wrists and not for the first time you wonder how he manages to make the most simple touches feel so good.

“You asked me one time,” he starts quietly, “about why I quit school. And I -- “

“Don’t -- ” you interrupt, “-- you don’t owe me an explanation.”

He shakes his head.

“Uh yeah,” he chuckles cynically.  “Yeah, I do. I owe you pretty much any explanation you want at this point.”

You look down at where your hands are joined, down to where Jungkook is rubbing the calloused pad of one thumb against your palm.

“My mom got sick.  And it didn’t feel right to stay in school when I could be working and helping to bring in some money.”

You remember the dig you made at him -- the way his face had shuttered -- and you feel an acute pang of guilt.

“I’m so s --”

“No, listen to me please,” he says adamantly.  “She’s doing a lot better now and I don’t want you to feel sorry for me. But I need you to know that for every good thing I’ve ever done, I have done something equally as fucked up. And I just want -- “

He exhales heavily, scrubs one hand along his jaw.

“ -- I just want you to know that this shit with the money and the running is just some of me. I’ve done some really stupid shit but that’s not all I am.”  He leans closer to you, pins you with that bottomless gaze.  “I need you to understand that. Am I making any sense?”

You swear you can feel your heart squeeze in response.

“Yeah, you are,” you say softly.  He reaches one hand out to cup your cheek.

“So can I kiss you now or are you still mad at me?”

You’re tempted to tease him but he looks so unsure of himself in this moment that you resist.  You look down at yourself, remember you are still in sweaty running gear and cringe imagining what you must look like at this moment.

“I’m gross,” you protest in a whisper.

He leans closer, mouth hovering just over yours.

“Ask me if I care.”

******************************

Jungkook at least has the decency to let you shower before taking to you bed.

But just barely.

The second you are clean and dry he’s on you, mouth and hands everywhere at once.  Your skin -- already warm from the hot water -- heats even more under his touch.

He’s different tonight you think, as you lie back on your bed and his lips work up the column of your throat.  There’s a determination to the way he’s holding you, an urgency to the way he’s pressing his body against yours.  

You stroke your hands down his back, feel the answering ripple of muscle underneath your fingertips.  His body is leaner than it was in Puerto Rico and the realization sparks a sad throb in your chest.  

Nicaragua must have been a lot tougher than he’s letting on.

But then his lips skate across your collarbone and you force yourself to push the thought from your mind. Whatever happened to him there is over.  He’s here and he’s okay and he is literally on top of you and that’s the only thing you want to think about right now.

“I missed you,” he whispers and a shudder runs up your spine in response.  

You rake your nails against his nape, fingers teasing his freshly cut hairline and he makes a satisfied groan against your mouth, pressing his hips firmly into yours.

It’s impossible at this point to ignore the nudge of his hard cock against your stomach.  You snake a hand between your bodies to wrap warm fingers around his pulsing length and he pulls back to suck in a pained breath.

“Jungkook, I -- “ you start to speak, but an uncomfortable tickle in the back of your throat stops you.  He opens his eyes to look down at you.

“You okay?”

Hell no, you’re not okay.  

It feels like if you open your mouth to answer him, you’ll cry and you are not a crier and he’s looking at you expectantly, waiting for you to say something -- anything.

“Yeah, I just…um,” you stumble over your words and it takes a moment for that uncomfortable feeling to subside long enough for you to speak. You have to wait until your voice comes out even and controlled before you can finish.

“I missed you, too,” you say, finally.

His lips curve into a small smile.  

“I know you did.”

He drops his mouth down to pull at one soft nipple with his lips and teeth.  You sigh, arching into his touch.

The soft exhalation seems to set Jungkook off, makes the steady grind of his hips pick up in speed.  He tongues at your nipples until they are aching and hard then slips a finger into your channel to test your wetness.

He brings his mouth close to your ear, breath warm against the shell.

“I can feel just how much you missed me,” he teases in a low voice.

Arrogant bastard.  He’s right, though.  

You huff a laugh as his fingers work in and out of you slowly, drawing out your wetness. He covers your mouth with his as his thumb rubs slow circles against your clit and you moan into his kiss.

“Fuck me,” you say quietly and you feel the tremors that run down his back at your words.  “Please,” you beg, “I don’t want to wait anymore.”

Jungkook kisses you again -- long and hard -- before pulling away to grab a condom from his jeans.  

You take the moment to appreciate how handsome he is, chest covered in a sheen of sweat, lean body tense with the need for release.  You watch the corded bands of his arms move as he crawls back onto the bed, sheathed and ready. He leans his weight on his forearms and the muscles in his shoulders become even more prominent as he lines his body up with yours.

You lift your head to suck at the hollow of his neck just as you feel the blunt tip of his cock nudge your entrance.  

“Do it, Jungkook,” you moan, rolling your hips against him. “ Now.”

He groans as he obliges you, pushing slowly inside and you brace your hands around the tight muscles of his arms until you can feel him anchored deep.  

“Fuck,” he whispers. “Every time it’s like I forget how good you feel.”

Strange how you were just thinking the same thing -- thinking about how no one else has ever pulled these responses out of you.  It’s like your body knows this man -- like it knew him way before your brain ever did.

He rocks into you slowly, deeply, pelvis flush with yours each time he strokes to the hilt.  His pace is languorous and it makes your entire body feel heavy with pleasure. You wrap your legs around him tight, willing him deeper even though you know that’s not possible.

The painfully unhurried rhythm is so, so good , but it’s not enough.  

Not when you can feel the threat of your release building between your legs and you need more to get you there.  You angle your hips up, trying to capture more of the friction.

Jungkook takes the hint, moving one hand to cup your ass. He pulls you into each snap of his hips, forces you to take every inch on every thrust.

“Come for me,” he pants. “I can’t hold out much longer.”

You can only whine your response, too fucked out at this point to form sentences.  It takes just a few more deep, desperate thrusts to make you start to unravel. Jungkook lets go the instant he feels you start to quiver around him and he doesn’t back off, lacing his fingers into yours and pinning you down into the mattress with the full force of his body.

Once the loud moaning and desperate movements slow to a stop, he drops his forehead down on yours.

The two of you breathe each other’s air for a while until your chests stop heaving and your hearts stop pounding.

***********************

“When does this all go down?” you whisper, cheek pressed to Jungkook’s chest.  

You’ve spent the last five minutes enjoying a warm, comfortable silence.

But that hasn’t stopped your mind from wandering back into worry.

Jungkook presses the length of your body into his side with one firm hand. You feel him tense when you ask the question.

“10 AM.”

“10 AM,” you echo numbly.  

“Yeah,” he whispers, stroking lazy patterns with his fingers down your back.  

“So,” he clears his throat. “Are you...ready to talk about what’s going on here?”

You’re glad that from this angle he can’t see your reaction, can’t see the flush that spreads over your face.

“No,” you mumble childishly.

“You’re such a brat,” he teases, dropping a kiss on your hair. “So fine. I’ll do the talking then.  I met someone.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. She’s got her head on straight, and…” he trails off for a moment.  “...she’s got me thinking about how I can get my head on straight, too.”

You smile into his skin.

“What’s she like?”

“Well, she’s a lot of different things at once. Kinda feisty, super smart, very cool,” he murmurs.  “Unemployed, but hey — no one’s perfect.”

Your shoulders shake with laughter.

“Is she hot?”

“Nah,” he teases, and he jumps when you pinch his stomach.  “Way better than hot. She’s beautiful. And she’s into me.  Really, really into me.”

Your cheeks heat but you keep the tone light.

“How do you know she’s not just using you for sex?”

“Well in the beginning she was,” he chuckles. “But then she showed up for me in a big way. A really big way. So even though it’s really hard for her to come out and say how much she likes me, I already know. She’s already shown me.”

That uncomfortable itch in your throat returns when he says that. It’s so weird to be understood so thoroughly by someone you barely know.

“She sounds pretty amazing,” you say after the sensation subsides long enough for you to speak.

“Yeah, she is,” he whispers. “So I’m gonna go to this meeting tomorrow morning and try to fix the mess I’ve made. Cause maybe now I have a reason to stop being such a reckless asshole.”

You screw your eyes shut and will the unexpected tears that spring to your eyes not to fall.

“10 AM, right?”

He drops another kiss into your hair and pulls your body in closer.

“Yeah. 10 AM.”

**********************

[the-moon-prince]

The Last Of us~Kurapika x Reader ~Chapter III

 AN: Hi my lovely fellows!

I finished the third chapter! Made with love and care for your enjoyment. I know this one is shorter, and I'm sorry. But I trust you will like it despite that detail! I made it extra fluffy, after the angst of the anterior, we all deserve a sweet.

I wish you a pleasant read, and I hope you’ll enjoy the new chapter of my story.  (Chapter I) (Chapter II) (Chapter IV coming soon!)

Paring: Kurapika Kurta x GN! Reader

Word count: 2 111

TW: None!^

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

It was clear something changed in Kurapika after that night. It didn't go unnoticed by Melody. She noticed in the rhythm of Kurapika's heart that the man's grief was lighter. Not to mention discreet short glances the young man sometimes gave (Y/n) when they were in the same room or how he tended to stay closer to them. Kurapika's heart longed in the days when (Y/n) was not at the Nostrade mansion. 

And for Kurapika? He was neither oblivious of that change. He taught about how (Y/n) would serve him tea or coffee each time they did for themselves. He noticed the characteristic small manias no one else appeared to remark about (Y/n); like the silly way they stood with their hands in front of their chest when nervous, they touched their hair when they were concentrating on their work. Or even their nervousness around crowds. Despite the warmth that thoughts about (Y/n) gave him, they also filled him with doubts and fear. That person saw a side of him that very few had seen. On one hand, it made him feel less lonely, and he shared the burden of his soul with someone who, seemingly, comprehended him. On the other, it was his ugliest side. Don't get me wrong, at no point did he believe his cause was erroneous. It was the fear of lowering his defenses further, which had allowed him to survive so far, to at the end losing someone dear again.

There laid the dilemma. 

~

On Saturday evening, as was customary (Y/n) went to "keep her company"-as Neon referred to her therapy. Neon, her bodyguards, and (Y/n) were in the girl's room; while she just played with her stuffed animals. Neon being herself, talked a lot about her pastimes and trifles. And then it happened. The trigger pulled. "You know, (Y/n) you're dumb sometimes." Neon said directly in the face of the mentioned. Kurapika did not appreciate the insult to his "darling"- Being his boss he couldn't face Neon directly nor punch her, although the desire was not lacking. In the end, Kurapika ended up saying, with a slightly irritated tone, sincerely "Neon, it's time for the pause, we'll all go take a breath" Without Neon giving any value to the subject, she permitted everyone to go. (Y/n) sticking to their routine, headed to the employee kitchen to prepare coffee, and began to boil water. Kurapika also followed, aspiring somehow to comfort them-only something lost in how- stated "That was rude. Are you upset?"

(Y/n) turned to see him, inclined their head, smiled, and denied "No at all! She's right. When I was a child, someone throws a rock at my head, and I ended up like this." - responded teasing, possibly to relieve Kurapika's worries- "Plus, it's not her fault... I mean... she said it, but she's entirely unaware of the impact of her actions on others... Not because she's mean, I'm not trying to be impolite."- they added, gaining a disconcerted look from Kurapika.-"Neon has a dissociative disorder. She has lived in her distorted bubble all her life. Consequently, she disconnected from the consequences that her actions may have!"- (Y/ n) explained excitedly to Kurapika. Their enthusiasm, more than their tone of voice, was also reflected in small movements that (Y / n) made with its hands. Inadvertently, Kurapika smiled, considering their enthusiasm adorable. To finally recognize how charming (Y/n) was to him. 

~

Kurapika was sure he wanted to decide the whole condition with (Y / n), but he was still confused about what to do. He inferred that the wisest choice was to request advice. Next, he led towards the only other person he recognized as his friend in that place. Melody knew that Kurapika was young and inexperienced after all.

"I'm unsure about what to do, Melody. They've greatly helped me with something crucial to me, and I'm appreciative. (Y/n) is charming to me. They're so patient, thoughtful, and kind. I enjoy their company.

But what if it's not worth the trouble? It's illogical; we have known each other for roughly three months. They might not accept it or disappear. I can't permit myself to get disturbed." -Kurapika voiced all the insecurities he had. After a moment of meditation, Melody replied.

"I believe you like them. (Y/n) appears to make you happy, that's true. When they helped you, did they judge you, did they left?"-Melody tried to make Kurapika question his insecurities.

"Not at all; they were pretty reliable."-Kurapika answered, staring away. Melody gave him a sweet smile and continued-"If they proved themselves trustworthy, they merit a chance. I think you deserve to allow yourself a chance. I believe it will do good for you."

"Thank you, Melody." And he returned a sincere smile.

Likewise, Kurapika decided to take his chance. 

~

Already 7:30 pm and the workers of the Nostrade house were leaving. (Y/n) was preparing their bag when they felt a slight touch on the shoulder. Kurapika quickly took a step backward when (Y/n) instinctively shrunk in surprise at his touch. They promptly looked at Kurapika, who cleared his throat before speaking. "(Y/n) do you care to stay a little longer. I require to tell you something."

The mentioned one gave their sign smile as they hummed and nodded-"Sure!"

"Accompany me to the kitchen please, it will be quieter." request (Y/n) fulfilled. Already in the empty room, Kurapika took a deep breath. So many details made him nervous at the minute. He doubted himself. He had no idea how to approach sentimental topics.

(Y/n) 's gaze was on him, but without meeting his eyes. Which caused him to not decipher what they were thinking. He had no idea if they would reciprocate, get angry, or react. If there was something that intrigued and delighted Kurapika, was (Y/n)'s way of being. For him, it was mysterious and transparent at the same time. Genuine but selective in what they showed. And he wanted to ascertain more.

"(Y/n), since our time together has been relatively short, this may seem illogical to you. However, for me, it has been remarkably important and enjoyable. So I reasoned: I like you." 

(Y/n) still without seeing him in the eyes and without changing their smile, blinked a pair of times and sang, tilting their head "Thank you! I like you too; you're quite nice as well!"- Maybe they were a bit foolish after all...

"No, no! It's not that... I mean... I also do like you. I alluded to like you romantically." the young man amed to the person in front of him. Whose eyes widened making and making an O with its mouth. And while a flush creeped their cheeks , also rectified. "I do... too... like you romantically."-(Y/n) proceeded to put a hand on their forehead, the face visibly darker and embarrassed, to tremble-"I... That is much more logical... I am very sorry...I'm truly ashamed. I'm not good at those subjects!"

As (Y/n) felt bad, Kurapika also felt bad. He raised his hands, shaking them and little in denial "It's alright, it's alright. Worry not!" It was an embarrassing disaster. But they were a disaster together.

After some shame whines, (Y/n) sigh and continued "In this case, please allow me to invite you to morning tea tomorrow. It's the last I can do. I beg you." In an attempt to not make things more awkward, Kurapika quickly but joyfully added -"It would be splendid!"- to obtain a -"Marvelous!"- from his newly obtained sweetheart. They both went home ashamed. If something is clear, it is that neither of them stopped thinking about that event throughout the night. Also that the more they reflected on it, the more fortunate they felt.

~

The date was settled! The sole issue was that, due to the embarrassment, they both forgot to arrange an hour. And they both felt ridiculous. 

Kurapika wondered what time would be proper to present, to ultimately arrive at 9:30 a.m. While (Y/n) was waiting for him since 8:30, worried they were going to be late. Since (Y/n) always wore some kind of embroidered floral ornament, Kurapika assumed they liked flowers. And showed up with a bouquet, plus it was the first time (Y/n) saw him with his traditional Kurta clothing.

"Good morning (Y/n). I bring you these, I hope they'll be of your taste." Kurapika greeted, handling the flowers. The (h/c) gladly accepted them as they made a sign to come in.

"Greeting Kurapika! They're splendid. Please come in and get comfortable." they told. Kurapika sat on the couch, and (Y/n) arrived with two cups, a teapot, and a kettle. "Do you prefer tea or coffee?" 

"Tea, please." followed by the answer, (Y/n) poured tea into the cups and sat next to Kurapika. As if it were a silent understanding, neither mentioned anything regarding the incident on the schedule.

"I like your clothes. They are gorgeous!"- a little remark that touched the boy, who muttered a gentle -"thank you." Kurapika reflected a lot about his choice to confess, but he never repented it. The warmth he felt in that moment was pure for him. 

(Y/n) raised his hands to their chest and, fidgeting with their fingers, modestly asked -"I apologize if my inquiring is stupid, but... are we lovers?"- They had their gaze concentrated in their hands. The first thing that people usually think of when meeting (Y/n) is that they were a serious, refined, and intelligent character. This was partially true, but it had a somewhat childish side, more intimate, and it was what Kurapika was witnessing at the time.

"Naturally," he answered.

"I'm sorry if I don't fulfill your expectation for me. You are the initial lover I have. In fact, also my first friend." Despite being a relatively sad statement, (Y/n) had their grin stamped on their inclined face. That smile. That it always seemed the same regardless of the emotion her voice conveyed, with certain narrow exceptions. Kurapika felt the obligation to if they were blue, comfort (Y/n). Just like they had done. 

"I discerned that you invariably smile, and the smile is identical. Can I request an explanation?" He asked, knowing what his goal was. His partner was a bit uncomfortable with the question and shrugging their shoulders uttered.

 "It's quite complex to elucidate... I have some challenges expressing emotions to others. Not because they are not explicit to me.  Just my facial expressions don't mirror my sentiments.

Regularly, in addition to smiling, I can take a serious aspect. It does not cause me much trouble, since people consider me as someone friendly- not that I am not. Though may cause others to judge me uncanny. I'm sorry if it's the case." 

"Do not apologize. It doesn't appear eerie to me." Kurapika assured with a sweet smile. (Y/n) looked him in the eye again, showing their happiness in their distinctive way.

"You are a kind person, thank you." following their remark, the room fell into a comfortable silence. Kurapika and (Y/n) were two shy souls enjoying each other's company. Although everything happening was alien to both of them, they appreciated it.

They needed a little kindness and company, which they seemed to have finally gotten.

Who could have guessed? Neon did something helpful for once!

[sirfrogsworth]

Toilet Talk feat. The HandyFrog

In other news, I changed my toilet seat. 

My previous seat kept wiggling left and right. Like... a lot. This was very disconcerting when I had to take a sleepy, middle-of-the-night trip to the little frog’s room and forgot that it wiggles. I don’t know about you, but having a bull riding sensation is not what I want when I am half awake and trying to drop some kids off at the pool. 

After disassembly, I finally figured out why it wiggled. There was this weird gel-like plug that went into the attachment holes. It forced the bolts to stay centered and kept them from moving around. One of those gel plug thingies was missing. No idea where it went. So the bolt would just move freely and give me seasickness during my... me time. 

The broken seat was actually harder to remove than the new one was to put on. The previous WiggleButt 3000 was overcomplicated and poorly designed. I made sure to buy a new one that had simple installation. And I found one that specifically advertised NO WIGGLING. The new attachment method was incredibly simple and quite clever. And their marketing doesn’t seem to be misleading as I don’t see any way it could potentially shift like the old one. After some twisting of the ol’ Philips head my throne repair mission was accomplished. 

Even though it was stupid simple to install I am still going to add this to my handyman credentials. 

HandyFrog +5. 

Since my dad got sick, I’ve been fixing quite a few things around here in the last year or so. I changed out two faucet handles (+20), I unclogged a shower drain and two sinks (+15), and I engineered and installed a custom rotating television mount for my parents’ TV (+40). 

My biggest feat of handyprowess was repairing my dishwasher. The latch on the soap dispenser broke so I had to place the soap pod thingie on the top rack and just hope soap got on everything. It seemed to get things clean, but it left soap residue on all of my dishes and that was getting annoying. So after some detective work tracking down model numbers and part numbers and finding what I needed at a reasonable price, I ordered the parts and watched some repair videos. 

It took a week or so to build up the courage to replace the dispenser myself. I got a quote from a repair dude and he wanted like $200. I could almost buy half of a new dishwasher for that. I don’t know if they sell half-dishwashers, but that would look silly and I wasn’t going to have any silly business in my kitchen.

So it was up to me. 

Unfortunately, due to the design of the dishwasher, this operation required dismantling the entire door. What I didn’t know was the dishwasher in the repair video was a slightly different model than I had. My dishwasher had a digital display and other electronics inside the door. So when I tried to remove the front panel of the door and set it aside like he did in the video, I discovered it was permanently attached to some wires. So I had to balance the door on some pillows and lean it against a trash can I weighed down. (I’m quite the problem solver.) And I had to work inside the small space between that precariously balanced front panel and the interior of the door. That was a fun difficulty multiplier I wasn’t expecting.  

Then I discovered that one of the two wired connections for the old soap dispenser was hopelessly fused in place. The first one just unplugged with no issue. But the other one was super stuck. Not to get too technical, but it was this white plastic doohickey piece that two wires terminated into and it wouldn’t budge even when pulling on it with pliers. The guy in the video just yanked them out with his fingers like it was nothing. He did not prepare me for this eventuality! 

However, the ends of the wires had these metal circle thingies crimped on and they inserted into the white plastic doohickey. I could just pull out the metal circle thingies. EASY! 

But the metal circle thingies were also stuck. UGH! 

Then I figured out I could uncrimp the bare wires from the metal circle thingies... and this was the breakthrough epiphany I needed to prevent a full on panic attack. I could just leave the old white doohickey AND the old circle thingies attached! I then inserted just the bare wires from the new dispenser and crimped them in place with a needle nose pliers. Brilliant, right?! I was like a goddamn electrician with this problem-solving.

If you couldn’t visualize any of that just know it was a whole thing and very stressful and somehow I had barrrrely enough knowledge to create a workaround and hook everything up properly. I ended up with a spare white doohickey and metal circle thingie, but if you don’t have spare parts at the end you are one of those pesky direction followers and no one likes people who follow directions. 

I will say by this point I may have cried twice, cursed various gods, and kept screaming in my head, “THIS DIDN’T HAPPEN TO THE REPAIR DUDE IN THE VIDEO!” But, as problems kept popping up, I used my resourcefulness and weighted trash cans to find a solution. As one does.

One embarrassing thing I forgot to do... turn off the breaker. 

Despite working with wires and connections and different electronic components, none of that caused an issue. But when I was just finishing up and trying to maneuver the front panel back onto the door, I grabbed a very unassuming, very safe looking part at the top... and shocked the hell out of my hand. 

I made a mental note... “Don’t touch that.” 

But the panel was being very stubborn and I was balancing it on my foot and trying to angle it back into the slots and I almost dropped it and to catch it I instinctively grasped that same damn spot. Electric shock number 2. 

DON’T. TOUCH. THAT.

I still didn’t think to turn off the breaker at this point--even with my hand tingling. I think I had tunnel vision and could only see the repair finish line approaching and was just desperate to get the thing done and I was unable to think about something silly like personal safety. 

Finally, the door cooperated and it all slotted into place and just as the two sections were joining together that same friggin spot brushed against my arm. Electric shock the third. 

HEY, ME! WOULD YOU STOP TOUCHING THAT?

I screwed it all back together, ran a test load to make sure I didn’t ruin my dishwasher...  and it worked perfectly. Clean sparkly dishes with no more residue!

The pride I felt in completing that insane repair far outweighed my still tingling hand. 

HandyFrog +100.

Heart Lifespan -10. 

I’m essentially a contractor at this point.