#only in his relatively cute shell

[eightmakesonebraincell]

how do you think bf!ateez would be like with a shy gf? :o

the ones who silently take care of you: seonghwa, san

nobody can convince me otherwise that hwa and san would not lay down their lives to make sure that you feel comfortable so long as you are with them. they are both extremely perceptive and know what you want or need before you even do. you want a tissue from the box but you're too shy to ask the strangers on the table beside you for one? he's already asked and placed the tissues in your hand. you're meeting his friends for the first time and you're nervous to talk to them? he's already told his friends in advance to make you feel welcome without overwhelming you with questions. they thrive off being able to protect and care for you in all these little ways, and the cute smiles, appreciative hugs and bashful pecks you give them in return? anything you ask for and don't ask for, they will move heaven and earth to give to you

the ones who make sure you are okay: hongjoong, mingi

honestly, i think both joong and mingi would wonder at first if you being quiet and withdrawn has something to do with them. are they doing or saying something that is making you feel uncomfortable? or they might wonder if something is going on in your life, like with your friends or family. they probably ask you every now and then just to check in and make sure you're okay and that nothing is wrong. but they come to understand that it's just your personality and you're naturally shy, so you need time to feel confident or warm up to settings and situations. they might take a more proactive approach to help you with your shyness–not in the sense that they want you to overcome it, but more in the sense to help you feel more at ease and less nervous, especially when they are not there for you. they encourage you in small ways to step outside of your comfort zone, but of course the moment they see that it might be too much for you, joong and mingi are stepping right in to help you. no matter what, you know that they are always watching you and have your back

the ones who are just as shy as you are: yeosang, jongho

it's probably a constant back and forth of finding each other endearing LOL. i feel like with yeo and jongho, because they are both also quite shy, a relatively new relationship would give such puppy love vibes. there are a lot of bashful giggles and awkward eye contact when you catch each other stealing glances at one another. in situations that might require confrontation, like the waiting staff confirming the wrong order when you're on a date at a restaurant, you would look at him and he would look at you and neither of you would correct the staff. that's the charm of your relationship though. you both go with the flow that doesn't make either of you uncomfortable, and it's very relaxed and easy-going. and let's be real, you both probably go home afterwards and laugh about (and shit-talk) the situations that neither of you were going to speak up about. introversion and shyness is just a part of the relationship and it works for you all

the ones who bring you out of your shell: yunho, wooyoung

their infectious energy and easy banter just makes it impossible for you to be shy around them. it does take a while at first, but once you're comfortable with them? shy girl who??? i feel like yun and woo just have a way of drawing out your hidden mischief and occasional brattiness, and god do they feel a sense of giddiness to know that they are one of the only people you show this side of yourself to. at the same time though, they are able to reign themselves in when a situation calls for it and they are extremely dependable. they make sure that you know you can rely on them in situations you aren't comfortable with, like if you're in an unfamiliar setting or a situation that requires confrontation. all in all, shyness doesn't exist when you are with yunho or wooyoung, but when certain people or environments bring that shyness back, they're right there for you to lean on

[scaredpigeons]

Aqua Regia I: cutting through the darkness, bouncing off the walls.

Next chapter

Neuvillette x fem!reader

Word count: 2.2k

You become the assistant to the new ruler of Fontaine. (Set after the Fontaine archon quests, so spoilers if you haven’t already done it.)

Authors note: its finally here! I’ve separated it into chapters out for ease of reading. It should all be up within the next week or so. This is mostly sfw, a little suggestive at times, but the final chapter will contain nsfw content. Series name and chapter titles are from my literal favourite song ever, aqua regia by sleep token. It’s a very fitting song for this story. Enjoy!

———————————

The sun had not even reached its peak in the sky, dew still glistening on the cypress trees in the gardens outside, and already Neuvillette was pinching his brow, eyes feeling heavy as he slaved over the seemingly endless pile of paperwork that was stacked upon his desk. 

Sedene entered his office without knocking, a common occurrence, and one that never bothered him before— only worrying him now because he didn’t want her to see the way his shoulders slumped slightly— an incredibly unprofessional posture. 

“Monsieur Neuvillette, your 10 o’clock appointment has arrived.” She said, eyeing him from her spot in the doorway. 

He nearly jumped, but kept his calm facade as he shuffled around the papers on his desk, looking for his schedule for the day, but it seemed it was lost to the void of unfinished work he was drowning in. 

“My apologies, Sedene, I seem to have misplaced the itinerary I had written out for the day, would you remind me who it is I am meeting with?”

Sedene smiled, her eyes soft. “It’s Miss Charlotte, from The Steambird. You agreed to an interview with her last week, Your Honor.” 

“Sedene, please,” Neuvillette sighed, though his tone remained light and pleasant. “The formal honorifics outside of the courtroom are far from necessary.”

“Alright, sir.” The melusine smiled. “Shall I send her in?” 

Neuvillette tried to right himself, stacking his finished documents and unfinished work in separate piles to seem organized, though he would probably regret it later. 

“Yes, please.” He said. “And if you have the time, perhaps some tea? I’m sure she’ll be here for a good while.” 

Sedene nodded, turning to leave, before the Iudex called out to her again. “Sedene?” 

“Yes, sir?” 

“I believe…” he let the tension fall from his shoulders finally, giving up on trying to hide his weariness from her. “I believe I’m in need of some aid, if I am to continue this way.” 

Sedene just hid a chuckle behind her soft hand. “Perhaps you should ask Miss Charlotte to put an ad in the newspaper?”

With his final acceptance of his situation, he nodded. “Perhaps.” 

—————

“—And then I told him that there was no need, I had the perfect candidate in mind, and if he did not like you, then I would put the ad in the paper— although I told him there was absolutely no way he wouldn’t completely adore you altogether.” 

You listened to your friend talk animatedly, finally hearing her take a breath without continuing her thought. You certainly loved Charlotte, but conversations about things like work and her other passions tended to be relatively one-sided. 

“I’m sorry, just to reiterate, you personally recommended me to the chief justice for a position as his personal assistant?” 

“Of course! You were a PA at the steambird for so long, and you did so well there, everyone loved you!” She grinned, taking another sip of her tea. 

The café was rather packed today, and your macarons sat perfectly stacked in a cute pile on your plate. Your favourite desert by far, and café Lutece’s were second only to the treats made by Miss Navia herself. 

“Yes, but that was the Steambird.” You said, tracing a finger over the delicate shell of the top macaron on the pile. “We’re talking about the chief justice here— the new ruler of Fontaine— how are we even supposed to address him now?” 

You started to panic a little, not used to interacting with nobility, let alone the person of the highest social status in all of Fontaine— overlooking the love the citizens still held for lady Furina, of course. 

“I’m not sure, but you’ll get to ask him tomorrow!” Charlotte exclaimed, making you gawk at her. “I knew you were free so I arranged a meeting for you tomorrow at noon! Isn’t it exciting?” 

Your heart dropped into your stomach, then did a couple loops around there before it lurched into your throat. 

“Charlotte! I really appreciate you doing this for me, but I am woefully underprepared for this? What am I supposed to do? What will I even wear? Do I need to bring a resume? List of references? What—“

“Woah, woah,” Charlotte reached across the table, running a soothing hand down your forearm. “It’s not that serious, he’d just like to meet you over some tea at the Palais. He’s not all that intimidating after you meet him, hun. I promise you I wouldn’t have put you up to this if I wasn’t one hundred percent confident in you.” 

Your breathing settled a bit as she comforted you, though your mind was still racing. 

“You’ve got this in the bag.” Charlotte smiled, and you hoped she was right. 

——————

You smoothed your hands over your skirt nervously as you made your way to the steps outside the Palais Mermonia.

You wore the nicest outfit you owned that didn’t stray into formal wear territory, not that you had many dresses of that caliber. 

A dress, cut just above the knee, a beautiful deep blue color. A matching ribbon tied around the collar of the white puff sleeved undershirt, and a navy waistcoat cinched tightly in the back with a bow. Paired with your nicest stockings and a lovely pair of boots that Miss Navia had gotten you last year for your birthday, you looked every bit the part of an upper class citizen of Fontaine. 

Your insecurities ate at you, but you fixed a stray hair and smiled at the cute little dog dressed in a guard uniform that was trotting outside the lift. You were on high alert, but seeing everyone standing around, acting normally, enjoying the sunshine— well that made it seem a little better. 

You greeted Liath as she skipped around the entrance, feeling even better as she smiled brightly at you. You made it a point to personally get to know all the melusine around the city, finding them to be extremely fascinating beings, and upon doing so, learning that they were among the sweetest, kindest people you’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. 

“I heard you’re going to be working here!” Liath said, throwing her arms out in excitement. “That will be so lovely! I will get to see you every day!” 

You giggled a bit, not wanting to burst her bubble. “It’s just an interview, Liath. Nothing is set in stone just yet.” 

“Well I just know you’re going to get the job, you’re so very lovely.” 

You pressed a hand over your heart, feeling your face heat up. 

“You always say the kindest things when we speak, I'm very flattered. I hope I get the job too.” 

She wished you good luck and sent you off, and you entered the building with your heart once again in your throat. 

You walked through towards the head office, nodding at the gestionnaire ladies who were working diligently at their tables before you heard your name ring out from the end of the hall. 

Sedene scurried out from behind her station, coming to greet you. 

“Sedene!” You exclaimed. “It’s been a while, you look so beautiful! are you doing something new with your hair?” 

She smiled sheepishly, pawing at her hair under her hat. “Miss Seigewinne got me some new hair oils, imported from Liyue! They’re very lovely, and smell just heavenly!” She leaned towards you, tilting her head in offering. “Here, smell!” 

You giggled again, a little taken aback, but leaned in to smell her anyway. True to her word, Sedenes hair smelled just lovely, sweet and floral, yet unlike anything you’d ever smelled here in Fontaine. 

“Oh, wow, that's beautiful!” You said. “The next time I go to see the Duke, I’ll have to ask Seigewinne where exactly she got it from.” 

Sedene agreed, and pointed towards the door to your right. “He should be ready for you, I brought the tea in just a moment ago.”

Dread tried to creep its way back into your throat, but Sedene reached up to take your hands into her soft paws. 

“I wouldn’t worry if I were you,” Was all she said before she smiled and skipped back to her station. 

You walked swiftly to the doors, and before you lost your nerve creaked them open and peaked inside. 

The chief justice was at his desk, eyes flitting over a document held loosely in his hand. He looked so regal and intimidating, his clothes finely pressed and tailored to fit him exceptionally well. Upon your entry, his gaze snapped up, and you swore you could see the faintest hints of embarrassment cross his face. 

Your name fluttered past his lips as he stood, and you shivered a bit at the way his voice uttered the word. 

“My apologies, I did not hear you enter. My attention seems to be scattered as of late.” 

“No, no, please.” You said, stepping further into the room as the door closed audibly behind you. “It’s my fault, I should have knocked first.” 

“Your arrival was anticipated, and Sedene must have sent you through, therefore there was no need for you to knock, I assure you.” 

Neuvillette walked closer to you, holding out his hand for you to shake. You took it,  trying to remember everything you were ever taught about shaking someone’s hand during interviews, but taken aback at how large his hands seemed compared to yours. 

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” Neuvillette said, his hand grasping yours just a beat longer than normal before he pulled away, gesturing to the chair he had set up in front of his desk. “I’ve heard so much about you, please, have a seat.” 

He pulled the chair out, the perfect gentleman, pushing it back under you as you folded your hands under your skirt to tuck it under your bottom, sitting down. 

He rounded the desk and said down, pouring you a cup of tea before sliding the tray of additives closer to you. 

“All good things, I hope?” You said, adding your preferred mixture of extras to your tea. 

“Pardon?” Neuvillette seemed a bit distracted, his eyes jumping back to you from where he seemed to be zoning out. 

“You said that you’ve heard a lot about me,” you said, smiling over the rim of your teacup. Your confidence grew with each passing moment in his office, he just seemed so… normal. A bit scattered—as much as he seemed to try to hide it, which made your chest feel light and airy—but so normal. “I was just hoping they’re all good things.” 

He blinked at you, gears finally clicking into place, before a bit of a sheepish look crept onto his face. 

“Ah, well— yes.” He said, picking up his teaspoon and stirring his tea despite not putting anything in it. “You came highly recommended by Miss Charlotte, and upon hearing of this meeting, a multitude of melusines came to sing your praises, which shocked me a little, but I have heard them speak of you in passing, so I suppose my surprise was short lived.” 

“They speak of me?” You asked, feeling a bit flustered. 

“I’ve heard your name more than once.” He said, taking a sip of his tea. “The girls tend to talk about those who are kindest to them quite a lot, they are all rather fond of you.” 

“Are you close to them?” You asked, already knowing half the answer. “They all speak quite fondly of you.” 

He smiled a bit brighter. “I like to think I am. They are the pride of Fontaine, and therefore I take much pride in them as well.” 

You found yourself staring at his smile. 

You’d only ever seen Neuvillette in the occasional trial you attended. He was always stone faced, serious, and oh so untouchable. High, high up in his seat, looking down on all others. Seeing him here, you couldn’t help but think he looked so very human. 

“To the matter at hand,” he said, clearing his throat and sitting up a bit straighter in his seat. “I will not lie to you, since Lady Furina stepped down I have had an influx of responsibilities to take on, and while I am fully prepared to do so—I find myself in need of…” 

He seemed a bit lost, maybe a bit embarrassed. 

“Some help?” You said softly. 

He sighed. “Yes. Even with all of her frivolity and splendor, Lady Furina did take on her fair share of duties when it came to making sure Fontaine stayed well functioning and stable.” 

Neuvillette seemed a bit wistful then, slightly sad, staring off into the space just beside your head. 

“Monsieur?” 

“Ah, forgive me.” He seemed to shake himself out of it. “I am deeply honored to be entrusted with the care of his nation, but it seems like some assistance would be extremely beneficial to this transitionary period in time, and likely beyond as well.” 

“If I may say so, sir, I think you’re doing a wonderful job already.” You thought about how well the crisis of the flood was handled, the aftermath, the reparations. “I would be honored if you chose me to be the one to aid you in this.” 

He smiled again, softly, and you hoped you’d be able to see it more in the future. 

“Thank you,” he said. “I would be so very grateful.” 

[hotteoki]

happily ever after (j.w.y.)

pairing: wooyoung x reader (no pronouns used)

genre: different lives au, est. rel., friends to lovers, angst, strangers passing by

wc: 0.7k

cw: mentions of a hospital

thank you to @sobun1est, @daesukiii and @liumoonlight for beta reading !!

©️ hotteoki || do not translate or repost on to any other platforms

In one life, Wooyoung rushes down to his mother’s garden upon hearing Hermes’ message. “Eros!” you call upon seeing his relieved and forgiving expression. 

“Psyche,” he replies with a soft sigh, every ounce of adoration soaked in the simple word that is your name. He engulfs you in the tightest embrace he can muster, breathing in the flowery scent you gained from the hours you worked in his mother, Aphrodite’s garden. “I’ve forgiven you. I always have,” he responds to your unspoken question, brushing your hair behind your ear, before kissing you softly. 

You gaze up at him, pressing your forehead against his, “I love you. In every life, I will love you.” But from the small gleam in his eyes, you realise you hadn’t needed to say those words at all; He had already known.

In another life, Wooyoung sits down across from you in the school cafe, placing your takeaway cup in front of you on the table as he sips on his own. He watches as the corners of your mouth curve up into a smile, and he thinks he’s never seen a sight more beautiful in his life. 

“Have I got anything on my mouth?” you ask while wiping your lips with the napkin he held out for you. “No,” he answers. He asks you if you have any more lessons for the day, grinning from ear to ear when you shake your head. 

He tells you he’s going to take you on a trip to the local arcade, and that is where he’ll confess his true feelings for you. 

In a different life, Wooyoung has his head laid on your lap, your hands combing his hair sending tingles all over his body. You both watch the sunset while listening to the gentle crashes of the waves, the sand as soft as cushions underneath the two of you. 

He looks up at you and gives you a tap on the nose, “You’re so cute.” You let out a small laugh at his words, which is also known as Wooyoung’s favourite sound in the world. He absentmindedly picks up a shell next to your legs, bringing it up to show you. You take it from him, smiling serenely, “I’ll ask Miyeon to make it into a necklace for me.”

So you did, and it warms Wooyoung’s heart every time he sees that very shell dangling around the chain on your neck.

In the next life, Wooyoung walks down the streets of Paris with the other members. They finished their tour yesterday and were told they had a day off today. He peers through the glass windows of the department stores on the street, glancing at the luxurious clothes briefly before moving on to the next. 

He really should’ve been listening to San calling his name, he probably wouldn’t have bumped into you that way. You turn back to him, apologising profusely, before giving him a shy smile and continuing down the road. 

Wooyoung barely registers what had just happened. The only thing he does register, though, is that he can never imagine anyone as breathtaking as you are.

In the life after that, Wooyoung passes you the graffiti can, watching as you spray the huge block letters on the wall. It’s a message he had suggested previously. 

He stays on guard, head swinging around to make sure there aren’t any cops nearby to catch you two. “And I think we’re done,” you declare, pulling at his arm to step back and admire the words. ‘WAKE UP.’ 

He turns solemnly to you, “Do you think it’s possible? Change, that is.” You look up at him. A moment passes before you give him a bitter smile, “No.”

But in this life, all Wooyoung can do is wait in this stiff chair. Waiting, waiting, waiting… 

He holds your hand, gaze shifting from the view by the window to you. Your matching rings catch in the sunlight and reflect off onto the walls, creating a faint rainbow that’s just enough for Wooyoung to sit up properly, a ray of hope blooming in his chest. 

He exhales softly, pursing his lips and squeezing your hand, “I love you. In every life, I will love you.” 

He leans forward to kiss you on the forehead, not even noticing the words tumbling out of his mouth, only choking back a sob when turning to meet with the all-too-familiar sight of you in your hospital bed again.

[armythings-love]

I’m gonna cry… I had an entire analysis for this typed out but my wifi is shit so it refused to post😭😭 anyways, this is based off of the @ladybugout-au permanent superhero team. I decided against doing Luka’s Cadmeancio suit because I 1. Didn’t want to draw him in orange and 2. I was already pushing it with making a purple/red Neurofoxin. Only reason I made her purple is because natural coloring obviously doesn’t mean shit to the character designers if Juleka gets to be a purple red tiger. Anyways, here’s my take on their suits!

Hecattack: I wanted to diverge from the furry/bdsm influences Chat’s suit got, so I gave him looser fit pants, a hood and combat boots. His suit was lowkey inspired by Red Hood’s design because, dammit, DC may be super dark, but they know how to design characters well (something MLB could stand to learn from ಠ_ಠ) anyways, along with the hood and paneled top+cargo pants+combat boots, I gave him cat-shaped knee pads, similar to Ivan’s turtle shell knee pads. You will also notice a trend with a lot of my hero suit designs, which is fingerless gloves. Yes, this’ll take away from the cat claw thing Chat had going on, but I’m ok with that. To go with his punk/rock band aesthetic, he got combat boots with the signature cat paw steel toes. His tail is pretty much the same along with the ears. His mask is also different, covering the bottom half of his face. This also takes away from the cat sclera thing the original Chat had, but Luka isn’t a furry so… also, the mask covering his mouth alludes to his calm nature and quiet personality, not feeling the need to play around, especially during a battle,which was where the original Chat erred most often. Luka also has very expressive eyes, so I wanted to push that, like, even if he doesn’t talk much, he’s still a good communicator. Plus, when cats are hunting, they’re quiet! Which the original Chat cannot relate to!

Ladybug: ok, so her suit is still pretty basic, since I wanted to stick with he AU’s canon description of her suit. The main bodice/legs are similar to the season 4 suit after she calls on the lucky charm, but the sleeves are slightly different. I also got rid of the “reverse” polka dots cuz they just look ugly imo. Her gloves are also fingerless, since I feel like that would 1. Lend better to doing yo-yo tricks and 2. They just look better (u_u) anyways, her hair is still the same, as well as her mask. It’s pretty basic but eh…

Neurofoxin: her design is also super simple, but I also wanted to veer away from the gaudy orange normally associated with the fox miraculous. If she can make her tiger suit purple and red, I can make her fox costume reddish purple!! She’s goth, she’s not gonna walk around in *o r a n g e*. And I stand by that. Anyways, like I said her suit is relatively simple, the panels of the suit modeled after Volpina’s actually, because despite how I hate Lila and her stupid sausage link hair, her volpina suit was pretty cute. Instead of giving her a jacket w/coattails or a belt/sash to be her tail, I decided to make it her hair, cuz even in civilian form it’s pretty long. I also decided that instead of a dark grey/black to purple, I’d make the tips the same cream as her “underbelly” panel, as I wanted to incorporate the cream in more than just that singular spot. I also pulled her bang back because even if she’s goth, she still needs to be able to see properly as a superhero. Plus, I like Juleka’s eyes, and I feel like Trixx would like her to show off more. Anyways, besides the morph suit and her hair being a bit longer than normal+a different color, she has a cropped leather jacket,same color as her suit. There’s also paneling on the side/back of her thighs/back that’s a darker red/purple color. Again, to go with her rockstar/alt aesthetic, I gave her combat boots as well, though hers are knee high, plus I forgot to draw the laces, but eh. Fun fact: I headcanon the Couffaine twins as being super tall for their age, but Juleka is taller than her twin for now+her boots are heeled.

Fukiya: for Kagami’s suit, I pulled inspo from someone else’s LBO AU fanart, although I can’t remember who’s it was. Originally, I was gonna go for a suit similar to Kagami’s fencing gear, but decided to go w the suit she has now so it’d be more reminiscent of a bee. I gave her a sleeveless, cropped kimono, the bottom of which has a honeycomb pattern and an ombré going from dark yellow to black. Her obi has two layers, the bottom layer being a bright yellow and the outside layer being black. Her sleeves are similar to Queen Bee’s, but with an added black line. Her legs are completely black with the exception of her knee pads, which are a bright yellow and octogon shaped. I wanted her to look more bee-esque than Queen Bee or Vesperia (her character design is 🤢) so I gave her the yellow torso with black limbs, than made the kimono collar thick to look like a neck ruff or smth. I honestly struggled with her design a bit but it looks ok in the end so I’m happy with it :) also, Kagami is the shortest because I said so!

Heavy Matal: oh, Ivan, you absolute teddy bear of a guy. I adore the Iván of this AU, he’s so sweet, a gentle giant, so I wanted to focus on making him look slightly softer than the rest of the heroes, despite being the turtle holder. I gave him his signature cargoes, although they’re pants instead of shorts when he’s transformed, a sleeveless hoodie, and “turtle”-neck compression-esque undershirt, the sleeves long enough to be, you guessed it, fingerless gloves! The only reason Kagami is the only one with full gloves is because I wanted to giver a more serious/conservative look. Mari’s been ladybug so long she deserves to have cute, fingerless gloves! Anyways, back to Ivan! His hoodie is two toned, like a turtle’s shell, with the front being a light green. It’s patterned to look like a turtle shell underbelly, with a nice big pocket to hold whatever. He wears elbow- and knee-pads, which are shaped like little turtle shells. He wears regular Vans-style tennies, and his mask is similar to Carapace’s, except it cover the majority of the front of his face (think Kid Flash), and is colored/patterned similarly to a box turtle, with red accents along his cheekbones and his little tuft of hair is his usual blond with an ombré to that same red. (Ignore the ear I forgot to color in plz, I don’t feel like editing anymore T-T)

Ok, so that’s it for today’s character designs! I’m working on redesigning pretty much everyone’s civilian and hero costumes. I haven’t mentioned on this blog, but on pretty much every Gabe!Salt fic I’ve read, I will tell you, whoever the hell designed most of the characters in MLB, you deserve to be fired and then arrested. I’m so sorry, but there’s no way ur gonna convince me Fashion Designer™️ Marinette Dupain-Cheng walks out of her house every day, wearing ugly ass ballet flats+”denim” jeggings in that shade of pink. No way. And don’t even get me started on Gabriel’s candy-cane, red pants and duck hair headass, because omg… that man is supposed to be a world renowned Fashion Designer™️, one of the best in Paris. IN. PARIS!! No fucking way. No way. I get, you want ur characters to be simple and easily recognizable, but that doesn’t mean they have to be ugly!! And I get it, Adrien’s supposed to have a model-off-duty look, but wth are those shoes? Plus, why does he never change for his photo shoots? He’s a MODEL! I get it, you can’t even spend money to change the transformation animation to whatever the characters are actually wearing but wtf??? If you were gonna have any kid’s show where we get to see a lot of different clothes/outfits, this would be the show!! Two of the main characters are fashion designers, one of the minor antagonists is the daughter of a fashion magazine owner and your other main character is a model. IN PARIS!! A city known for its fashion and “romance”. And ur telling me you can’t add a few more outfits to the show??? That’s called lazy writing/animation.

Ugh, sorry abt that rant, but the character designs genuinely piss me off. It’s bullshit.

I digress.

I’ll be releasing the main 4 kids’ redesigns probably on the 15th!!

[d8tl55c]

chosen watches the Cursor fly away. this time, it doesn't disappear at the top of... whatever must have happened during the fight. maybe from His perspective, the window was very small. that would explain the scale... and anyway, now, it must be fullscreen.

can ALAN see the whole world from out there?

the Cursor flies up, up, up, up, up and away to the little hole chosen poked in the IP address shell. hopefully ALAN won't be mad about that.

little colorful dots climb off of the Cursor, and hop back through the Wi-Fi tunnel.

then the Cursor starts to get bigger. whuh?

no, wait, it's getting closer.

shit. is He mad?????

chosen watches it fly back down, with that strange halting acceleration. going, going, GOING, and slow slow slowing. it takes only three swipes to return to sea level.

the Cursor hovers next to them. they feel themself being watched, but this time they can't watch back; only infer His perspective, from the angle of ALAN's sole limb in the digital world.

they can't help but turn to look where ALAN sees from anyway. empty air. creepy. but turning again, they see the Cursor wiggling gently. a little wave. disturbingly cute.

ALAN scoots the Cursor upward. brings it down. up, and down. up. up?

it takes a second to translate. of course, they can't hear each other, so they both have to infer from context clues.

"Do you want to come with?"

before they can think, they're already shaking their head. "no," i can't.

the Cursor scoots down, hiding much of itself below the cliff they're standing on, only the tip peeking over. somehow it still translates.

sheepishly, "please?"

it could mean several other things. "why not?" or, "okay," or, "im sorry." it could be another invitation to step on, and return to that sanctuary (PRISON PRISON PRISON PRISON PRISON PRISON) over the clouds. chosen doesn't know. they shake their head.

they shake their head, quick, several times.

they refuse it all.

they turn away from ALAN, and jump into the air, arms splayed in a maneuver they've done thousands of times before.

the fire doesn't catch right in their hands. it sputters, blasts too hard on one and not the other, and then shuts off completely.

they've been stupid, just now, and overestimated themself.

they're going to hit the water spinning out of control.

.

and then, they're not.

the Cursor has them by the back.

fear shoots through exhausted limbs. it flows, as it always does, from their core to their head to their fingers, and this time they...

...let it wash through them. excess stress chemicals stopper and fade. nothing is left behind.

the Cursor sets them so, so gently on their feet. they want to crumple and take a nap right now in the dirt, but they desperately don't want to offend His kindness.

still, their body is not cooperative at present, and it loses it for just enough time to trip their balance.

the Cursor is there again for them to lean on.

chosen is blindsided by anger.

why is He still here? shouldn't He be playing with His new pets??

chosen pushes off from the Cursor, hard, so they land a short distance away at the edge of the cliff ledge. they sit in the dirt, pull their knees in tight, and refuse to look at it any more.

waves sploosh against the rocks, one after the other.

the bay is a relatively calm offshoot of the local sea. too rough for normal swimmers; the perfect private spot for a pair of HI-PWR hollowheads.

green flashbangs fire in their memory. they squeeze their eyes shut, then open them, afraid of seeing something worse left alone with their imagination.

one after the other, waves sploosh against the rocks.

chosen peeks over their shoulder.

the Cursor is still there.

it doesn't fit into the landscape at all. it hovers with a distinct anxiety, too nervous to move a single pixel, yet aching to do something. as chosen looks back, it shifts a little closer- then quickly moves back to its original spot. the picture of, "nonthreatening." on another day, chosen would laugh at it.

they wave their hand in a repetitive motion. "shoo! go home."

the Cursor returns to peeking over the top of the ledge. it doesn't budge.

"GO HOME!" chosen gestures more sharply at the sky to the tunnel that leads to that place where no one would know where they'd gone and they might be (not not not not not not) safe. they feel nothing.

then He does something different. it's the same up, down, up, down gesture, but this time at an angle. chosen traces it along the cliffside, right to... the top. it's-

He's offering a ride to the top.

not all the way up to His domain.

just a lift to stable ground.

just to help.

a little nothing something.

just for them.

all thoughts leave their brain.

whatever this is, is

unfathomable.

they nod, once, outside of themself. why not?

the Cursor darts to attention- remembers itself- and moves in, slowly.

chosen gathers enough wits to stop it before it can click their back again.

to their relief, it complies.

they climb aboard its upper slope.

each movement is precisely calculated to hide signs of weakness.

it's warm to the touch on the black surfaces, like a rock under the sun. it's............

... nice.

when they're settled, ALAN moves the Cursor up the slightest bit - maybe ten pixels. "Ready?"

the way He treats them like such a fragile thing is starting to feel weird.

chosen grips the Cursor and spits a small burst of fire towards the loose rocks. "get a move on!"

and so, He does. He pilots the Cursor (smoothly, carefully) up over the cliff, then down, settling it as close to the grass as it can go without touching.

chosen slides off the slope.

the Cursor recoils back into the air. it hangs there, motionless, anxious again.

or maybe they're projecting.

whatever.

waves sploosh against the rocks, far below, quieter now. it's so quiet away from the trees. exposed. they should probably get out of here.

chosen stands on the cliffside.

the Cursor hovers in the air.

...

their peripheral vision detects it rapidly changing shape, and draws their head to follow the motion.

the Cursor is flipping between different Flash tools; Box, Hand, Line, Transform. it stops at, Text.

then ALAN types something into a floating text box.

[Im sorry]

so that is what he was trying to say earlier.

or maybe it wasn't, and this is only what he's trying to say, now.

or maybe

maybe chosen is far too tired for any of this.

they're tired, and they hurt, everywhere, and of course dark had to be late to lunch AGAIN for his stupid fucking secret surprise project, so chosen had to go fetch him, and now-

-is that-?

they reach up, and pluck ALAN's apology out of the sky.

the Cursor twitches, but doesn't intervene, as they tear it into its individual charset characters, piece by piece, and lay them in the grass.

when they're finished, they pick up the 's,' and stuff it in their mouth.

it's Times New fucking Roman.

a shot of savoury-sweet explodes on their tongue in singular taste, the way only charset can.

they eat both 'r's and the 'o' before slowing down.

the 'm' and 'I' are fine, but it's the 'y' that gives them pause.

they snap off its tail, and are left with a 'v.' TNR is nicely modular like that.

the 'v,' they hold up to ALAN (still lurking overhead).

the Cursor wiggles incomprehensibly.

chosen waves the 'v,' pointing at it for extra emphasis.

He scrolls back to the Text Tool, and chosen nods.

He summons a second 'v.'

chosen grabs it. now they have two 'v's: this is the moment of truth.

chosen holds up both of them, one next to the other, so they look like a-

ALAN types a 'w' into the text box.

chosen nods rapidly!

they toss the 'v's to the side.

then, they gesture at the 'w' - without taking it - and widen their hands, vertically.

it's quiet while ALAN thinks, in that unknown dimension outside of the screen.

He deletes the 'w,' and types a 'W' - and not just one, either. He summons a whole mess of them, overflowing onto several new lines of the text box!

chosen leaps at the wall of charset as though afraid it's a mirage. they crash through, landing in a pile of the things, and seize a 'W' from the air.

they bite from the left-hand leg where the ascender is thickest.

it's unspeakably delicious. it's been too long since they've had their favorite food. they've had a terrible morning, and a horrible afternoon, and it's all over and done with and noo- and ALAN brought them TNR again-

right now, He's copying ever more 'W's, pasting batches in the text box and chipping them off with the Cursor. it looks like manufacturing hard candy. chosen wants to laugh again.

they also want to cry, really, really hard.

later.

chosen chews their 'W' and hopes pathetic weeping isn't rendered on ALAN's screen.

and the Cursor works away, chipping, chipping, chipping, until a real pile forms in the clearing by the cliff over the bay.

...

eventually, the authorities will rise from their asses and come investigate the source of the explosion. the burnt trench leading directly from the brand new caldera to this cliffside, where a conspicuous amount charset is piled would be a dead giveaway of something going on. chosen will stash it somewhere under the trees or something, later. they don't care right now.

ALAN does.

[Will you be okay?]

it's odd.

chosen plucks out the extra 'W,' tosses it in their pile, and simply knocks down the rest so only, [okay] remains.

the Cursor sways gently. He deletes his message, then re-types, [okay.]

...

[If you need anything you can use The]- He halts, and carefully deletes the capital T.

[you can use the console again. To reach me.]

chosen nods, not knowing how.

[okay]

...

there's nothing left to say.

ALAN switches back to the Cursor.

chosen stands up from the grass.

He moves to leave.

they stay still.

He moves a little further, then stops.

wiggles.

waving goodbye.

waiting for their response.

what a strange creature.

chosen waves back, this time. so He'll go away.

[maybe-abbi]

hi!! can i request a rz!michael x reader where the reader has been held captive by michael in her home to the point where they’re reverting back to their normal routine with michael there and he starts to like them? i think it would be cute if he didn’t know how to react to his own emotions so he’d get randomly angry when they do something cute and they’d be confused bc the anger seemed to be because of them but never directed at them, if that makes sense? like if he sees them doing something like cooking and she just happened to make enough for both of them without asking he’d suddenly get up in a huff and storm off and the readers just like ???

tysm, i love ur writing so far!! <3

Back to normal

Rz! Micheal Myers x GN! Reader

Micheal doesn’t realize how comfortable he’s gotten around Y/n until they start to get comfortable as well.

It had been a few months since Micheal had began holding y/n captive. Y/n had, of course, been terrified of him at first, they refused to eat, drink, or even speak to him for the first few weeks. Micheal had expected that kind of reaction from them, who wouldn’t be scared of The Shape? He had even gotten used to their silence, he even enjoyed it, especially after hearing the screams of his victims all day.

Sometimes he would just sit next to them and look at them from the corner of his eye. He had admired them for a long time, which is why he decided to take them. It took Y/n weeks to allow themselves to relax in his presences, but the change was noticed and appreciated by Micheal.

When Y/n finally spoke to Micheal for the first time, it left him shell shocked. He had just returned home after dealing with an especially troublesome victim. They had cracked one of his masks and left him pretty bloody. Y/n ended up walking him to the bathroom and cleaning his wounds. Micheal watched them with intent, even smiling to himself, when y/n finished cleaning the wound they stared at the ground for a few seconds, then looked him is the eyes.

“Please, be careful.” They said in a whisper. Micheal felt light-headed at the sound of their voice. It wasn’t like they said anything particularly poetic or beautiful, but for Micheal it was a miracle.

Since then y/n had been much more open to Micheal. They talked about how their day went while he was out, they showed him the movies that they liked, and even asked him to bring back certain things for them when he went out. Y/n was started to settle into their new life, the only problem was that it seemed like the more comfortable that Y/n got with Micheal, the less comfortable he got with them.

For Micheal, strong positive feelings about a person are relatively new, but having those feeling reciprocated is a completely foreign concept, leaving him confused about how to react.

This all came to a head one day when Micheal had left for about eight hours, y/n was used to him leaving for a few hours every now and again, but eight hours seemed a little excessive to them. However they new he was a strange person, so they went about their business. When Micheal did finally get home y/n was cooking dinner, he walked in to see what they were making and realized that they had two plates set out, and they were making enough for the both of them. Micheal couldn’t understand why he felt so happy about that, or why he thought that the looked so nice while they were focused on cooking. Y/n eventually took notice of him, considering he was just standing it the middle of the kitchen, staring at them.

“Micheal… what are you doing?” They asked, slightly concerned. Micheal panicked, not expecting them to ask. He had no idea what to do, so he let out a huff and stomped out of the kitchen and into his bedroom. Y/n was left extremely confused, they thought that they may have offended him somehow. They just turned back around to finish cooking, not knowing what else to do.

Later that night Micheal heard a knock on his bedroom door, when he opened it he expected to see y/n, but instead he saw a plate of food sitting on the floor.

I’m so so sorry about the wait, I’ve been super busy, but I hope you like it anyway. This was super fun to write, I LOVE writing for slashers.

Please request if you have ideas, I love getting requests❤️❤️

[britt-kageryuu]

It's a relatively calm day, and Donnie is playing Baba Is You, because he heard about it being a cute 'Programming Puzzle Game' so far he's impressed.

His model is lounging on a beanbag his legs wrapped in a purple circuit board print blanket, while wearing a black hoodie with a Genius Built design. The background is a version of his bedroom, with a shelf of hydroponics gardens being more clearly seen. Shelldon is on his lap giving some ideas on what to do for the level.

"So now I just change the 'IS WIN' and now onto the next level! Triumphant Laugh! I must once again say that despite the simple art style, I am loving this game!" Donnie says happily, he scratches Shelldon on the back while deciding which level to do next.

A graphic of a cartoony Mikey popping out of his shell appears with a 'Thanks for the $10' the name was cut off because it apparently hit a censor in the program.

"Thank You once again, sorry your name got caught by the filter, but I don't want to mess with the filter again just yet. Let's see your message came through at least, 'Any update on the Tea that made you high?'" Donnie pauses to think this over. He checks something on another screen.

He reads it over real quick before relaying, "With further testing, and looking over how it was made, we found it's fairly safe for human consumption, but we can't sell it just yet," He pauses to look at the documents more, chat is asking why no sell?, "Because well, some people don't believe us when we say it doesn't have anything bad in it. The combination just leaves you very, how would you put it, Loopy? At the very least."

Shelldon decides to add to the information, "Uncle Blue says the mixtures not bad, but it needs more testing to see how it reacts with other stuff you might eat or take while drinking it. So you don't totally mess up your body."

"There's that as well, because we all figure no one will regard the warnings while loopy and what not." Donnie goes back to the game, and starts the next level. "We might give another update later, but for now, let's focus on this game. The levels have been getting delightfully difficult." He lets out a slight pleasant churr that is only just heard by the mic as a slight static noise.

Chat is tossing around suggestions, asking for more info about the tea, and some wondering what the slight audio distortion what, but most is drown out by other nonsense and spam by others in the chat.

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

Masterpost

He was originally going to be playing the Untitled Goose Game, but I think he'd like Baba Is You better.

[moodymisty]

hey! Just wanted to say I really enjoy reading your works! I’ve joined tumblr to put in a request, hope I’m doing this right lol. I was wondering if you’d have any headcanons for tech x female jedi general reader? It’s purely self indulgent for my self insert oc, lmao. But I’d love to hear what your thoughts are on how tech would be in a relationship with a general. Thanks so much!

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's Note: You're doing just fine, and welcome to tumblr! It's a mess but it's ours. I love self indulgent OC's so hopefully these little HCs of mine (and a little drabble because it was cute) will tickle your fancy.

Relationships: Tech/Gn!Jedi General!Reader (it just so happened I wrote it without any specific pronouns used)

Warnings: None, unless you consider clone/jedi relationships something to warn about?

Tech would at first, probably be a little bit at odds with a Jedi; Not in a hostile way, but his very '1+1=2, logic is superior' sort of brain competes with someone who trusts in something so vague as the Force. He doesn't enjoy the lack of concrete answers when it comes to the Jedi.

It's an even more prevalent if you're the 99's official Jedi general.

Tech and the Batch are already grappling with the feelings of finally being shackled with a Jedi, after having avoided it for so long. They didn't feel like a Jedi would fit in their squad, no matter how you might be. It's not the easiest hurdle to jump for sure, especially with Tech.

He's cold at first; You can tell he's displeased by your presence, but is attempting to be amicable. It's when you try your best to mold into their group rather than change them, when Tech ends up realizing that maybe this wasn't as bad as he thought.

You both find a common ground, and Tech even comes to enjoy the more historical side of Jedi teachings, even if he doesn't really get all of it.

He often times finds himself tinkering in the same area you're meditating in; He finds it relaxing in a way he can't explain. He makes sure to be quiet and not disturb you.

But it's actually Tech that's the one to make a move in upgrading your relationship, surprisingly enough- once he realizes his own feelings for you go far beyond how his brothers think of you.

He's extremely blunt; He enjoys spending time with you and would like more, but he knows that clones aren't exactly the pick of the litter. You vehemently reassure him that you'd love nothing more. It's not as if he's the only one who's feelings had been morphing over time, as you'd very much grown to enjoy being around him.

I think that Tech would be the least likely, besides Wrecker, to treat you being a Jedi as a 'big deal' in a relationship. Hunter and Echo would probably hesitate due to a fear of chain of command issues and Echo being used to Jedi more, while Crosshair has a sort attitude towards everyone including Jedi. Tech knows that the Kaminoans cannot find out, but beyond that, you being a Jedi is nothing intimidating to him.

If you ever gave him permission, he would love to tinker with your lightsaber(s). Acts of service are Tech's way of showing he likes someone, and to improve something that means so much to you would make Tech extremely happy. He also would love to see the inner-workings of something so integral to the Jedi order. Lightsabers aren't exactly something you get to mess with every day.

Has a spare robe of yours he wears uses as a blanket sometimes. He got yanked at the collar by Hunter once, when he was wearing it and almost left their barracks without realizing.

You can hear out far to your left, outside the shell of the Marauder, that someone is working on one of the LA-AT's with a high powered drill. Someone else is pulling a fuel hose across the hanger, as it drags across the ground with a consistent, sliding noise. Somewhere else is the yelling of a captain disciplining his troopers. It all fades to the background relatively quickly. The metal of the Marauder is cool beneath you, piercing the rough fabric of your robes.

There isn't much room in here to meditate, especially without any interruption, but the Batch and you have come to a sort of solution. There may not be much space between the cockpit seats, but it's enough, and you can seal the door if you need an extra bit of quiet.

It works. If anything, you've come to enjoy it. There's a familiarity about it. In the way that the Jedi temple has a comfortable feeling of home, as does the Marauder.

-CLANK-

Something small and metal hits the ground; A screw, you think. Judging by the way it bounces a few times before it starts to roll across the floor. You pay it no mind, palms shifting ever so slightly as they rest on your thighs. The sudden sound took you out of your meditation for a moment and the noises outside the ship came flooding back into focus, but soon enough you manage to slowly push them out again. Back to a state of peace, each sound being filtered and muffled as if dunked in water as you once again fade away into-

-BANG-

"Tech..."

You open one eye, looking up to your left and watching him look over the arm of his seat trying to spot where his tool went.

"Apologies."

It hit your foot, and so you open both eyes and grab it- with a grunt getting up from your cross legged position and handing it to him. Once you do, both of your hands rest on the arm of the seat to support yourself.

"Don't worry about it. I'm not going to get anywhere with this noise anyways." His eyebrows raise behind his goggles and with both hands gripping his current project, he makes a motion as if going to get up from his seat.

"I could do my work elsewhere, if you require complete sile-" You quickly lean in to give him a kiss on the cheek, close enough that your lips brush against the corner of his mouth.

"It's not you. The noise in the hanger keeps throwing me off." Tech looks out the side viewport to see a groups of clones working on various starships, and he notes how loud the sounds actually are. He's just gotten used to it, he guesses. He's slept in far louder places.

"I like having you here when I meditate, actually." You see the way his eyes light up a bit, both from the loving nature of what you'd said, and the curiosity of wanting to know why.

"It's nice knowing you're here. And ok." You reach up and adjust the light on the side of his goggles so it isn't pointing upwards. Tech doesn't seem to even notice that you doing so.

"Nothing is going to happen on a Republic base," He says, before taking note of the way you roll your eyes at him.

"I know, I just like the feeling." You squeeze his hand that's holding his screwdriver, and while he can't hold yours back, you note the way his eyes watch the gesture keenly.

"Once I finish this, I can promise you complete silence." You smile before he kisses you on the lips, feeling the way you gently sigh against them.

"Take your time. I'm just going to watch."

Join the taglist here: @simp-legend @nekotaetae @chad-something @coffeyorky @merkitty49 @lokigirlszendaya @totesnothere04 @get-wr3ckered @rebel-finn @mandoloriancookie @therealnekomari @loverofclones @notthatfanfictionwriter @lucyysthings @jennrosefx @fxlsealarm @crosshairs-wife @sinfulsalutations @pb-jellybeans @jediknightjana @coraex @anxiouspineapple99 @bobaprint @wolffegirlsunite @sleepingsun501 @crosshairlovebot

[friezaglasiencold]

Hi there, Frieza!!

I'm a researcher writing a book about the ins and outs of Icejin Culture. Seeing as you're one of the few left, I need your assistance.

What are some rarely known facts about your species? Customs? Taboos? Preferences?

Give as much information as you're comfortable with.

Thank you,

RR Interstellar Research Facilities

$73 Cicada Drive

XX217

Nosy, nosy. Hoho...

Fine, I'll bite. Do keep in mind that some of this was learned secondhand-- despite holding the throne I prefer to focus on the business side of things and don't spend much time on my planet of origin. As the prince of that sad lot, though, I'm obviously the most relevant person to ask. Forgive me if I ramble; I'll put it under a cut in post.

Now, let's see. 'Customs' could range anywhere from religion to breakfast preferences. I'll cover some of the ground in between, but I'm not going to type an essay for you. If you want more than what I give, send another message, and be more specific.

To begin with, the species has many names, as I've mentioned before. Here are some of the ones I've encountered in my travels:

Icejin (Most common.)

Arcosian (Scientifically accurate.)

Frost Demon (Fond of this one.)

Glaesar (Less common. Very formal usage.)

Polarite (Rarely used. Probably archaic.)

Suliform (I believe this is derived from 'Arcosulite', the unique mineral found in biogem shells.)

Changeling (Obvious origin.)

Culturally, the most prominent keystones are these--eloquence, formality, education, competition, and achievement. It's considered very rude to speak casually to someone with whom you are not close; you may think an individual is gibbering mad when he addresses you in riddles and tongues, but that's only because the general population is staggeringly naive. You must learn to read a room, and to never trust someone at first glance.

Or at first reading. Heh. I hope you've not been taking everything I say here at face value.

Children learn early on the importance of social hierarchy. Climbing it came naturally to me, but I've seen how the proletariat scrabble over each other with such thinly-veiled desperation. Resources are scarce on the home planet, after all; that is, I believe, why we became such competent spacefarers in the first place. Arcos is an inhospitable world. The few times I've visited it's been out of obligation to appeal to those remaining (mostly the elderly, infirm, or very young; nobody stays there long). I can't have them forgetting about their Prince, after all.

Ah, here's a fun fact--the point on Kuriza's head is a vestigial egg tooth. I only learned this after he was born; I'd no idea what the thing was for until I asked around. It's cute, isn't it? Evidently ovoviviparity only became the norm a couple of generations prior, and before that the egg would remain intact until a few hours afterward...

Hm. Let me think of more. I'll only bother with the interesting ones.

-Makeup denotes status. A nobleperson appearing without a full face of makeup in public is grounds for a legitimate scandal.

-It's possible to approximate a person's power level by their biogem color. The closer to violet, the stronger they are. Something, something, life energy -> radiation -> light frequency, something, something. It's also possible for gem color to change over time... infants and toddlers typically have duller, redder colors. Yours truly was the first person in recorded history to be born with purple gems. ;)

-Being relatively long-lived as we are, our written histories are frustratingly sparse. My father amassed quite a collection, though.

I could go on, but I have other things to do. That should satisfy for now.

Ah, but here’s one more for the road…

Something many people assume is that I'm entirely nude in my final form--untrue. There’s a thin layer of protective, flexible armor over the skin of important nerve clusters; the area you've all been so doggedly curious about parts during intimacy. I hope that clears things up. Now stop asking.

[valkeakuulas]

4 or 14 for Waxer/Boil? 😍🧡

I looked at the prompts and I decided that liked them both. So. One mash-up prompt fic coming right up!

Mistletoe: Private & Mutual Pining

Despite his smile, Waxer couldn't help but feel a bit wistful when he watched Wooley and the Commander share another kiss underneath that ridiculous headband Wooley had gotten from who-knows-where.

Next to him, Boil snorted. "Can't believe that Wooley's plan actually worked," Boil commented and he nudged Waxer with his shoulder, their pauldrons clacking quietly. "Think we ought to take a holo to share with the General?"

Waxer hoped his chuckle didn't sound too forced. "And risk the chance of the Commander stopping making out with Wooley? Nuh uh, Wooley's gonna use those massiff pup eyes if we spoil this for him."

"True," Boil agreed with a hum, and Waxer glanced at him.

He had expected to see a smirk or something similar on Boil's face, so Waxer was surprised that instead of it, Boil looked like he was deep in thought. Shifting, Waxer turned towards Boil and frowned a little when he realised that Boil was staring rather intensely at the still-kissing Wooley and Commander.

"What?" Boil asked when he noticed Waxer looking at him.

"I didn't expect you to be this interested in watching them make out," Waxer commented wryly, paying no attention to the quick sting of something in his chest when Boil flushed a little.

"It's hard to ignore them when they keep doing that right in front of you," Boil replied hastily, waving his hand towards the pair. He stood up and started walking away. "C'mon, let's go grab some food."

Waxer's frown deepened at the answer. As clones, they had learned to ignore a lot more things happening right in front of them than just a pair of vode making out.

"Waxer? You coming?" Boil called, turning to look at him over his shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm coming, I'm coming. Keep your codpiece on."

The exasperated sound Boil made had Waxer grinning despite the mild uneasiness inside him.

Two days later Waxer found himself crouching in a small armor locker near the bridge, one meant for the soft shells in case they needed to armor up for some reason. He was late from some filework and this was pretty much the only place he could find that came with relative peace.

Chewing on his lip, Waxer tried to understand how Crys had forgotten to clean up his holotrail, meaning Waxer now needed to come up with a way to hide Crys' mistake without any natborn finding about the slicing Crys did on his downtime.

He heard the doorpanel to the locker beep and raised his head in time to see Boil stepping in.

Unable to stop himself, Waxer smiled at the sight of him. "Hey."

"Hey to yourself," Boil replied as he approached Waxer, crouching in front of him. "How's the filework?" he asked, tapping the datapad.

Waxer sighed loudly and used his free hand to rub his eyes. "Crys' going to owe me so much after this," he informed flatly, "and I'll be cashing that favor in the form of three whole chocolate bars and a package of dried meiloorun."

Boil whistled lowly, impressed. "That bad?"

"That bad," Waxer nodded as he turned his attention back to the datapad. "What brought you here, though? I thought you were going to help those shinies the whole afternoon."

"About that...," Boil started, hesitant.

The tone caught Waxer's attention. "What?" he asked, giving Boil a wary look.

Whenever Boil sounded hesitant, something was afoot, and Waxer had learned to heed the signs.

"You remember that thing Wooley used on the Commander a few days ago?" Boil asked.

Blinking once, Waxer nodded slowly. "Yeah, and?"

Boil looked away, visibly nervous, and Waxer was about to ask what was wrong when Boil reached for something behind his back.

"You, uh, you can just tell me to kriff off, but I, well," Boil rambled, and Waxer was gifted with the sight of his friend blushing all the way to the tip of his ears.

It was absolutely cute and Waxer would've loved to find out how deep that flush went when he realised just what Boil had in his hand.

It was the spring that had been attached to Wooley's headband. With the fake plant still swaying on the other end.

"Boil," Waxer said, breathless. His heart skipped a beat before starting to beat so hard that Waxer feared it might break through his rib cage.

Boil's eyes glimmered with shy hopefulness when he looked at Waxer, holding the fake mistletoe between them.

The sound of armor crashing against armor was something all clone troopers knew by heart but never before had it sounded as sweet as when Waxer tackled Boil and kissed him with all he had.

[ladyrashelougai]

Can you please write a scenario where we are mermaids...?

“Shelly Girl”

-y/n was a curious mermaid who finally got stuck one day because of her excessive curiosity about the surface of the earth....

🍵Fukuzawa Yukichi:

° He was just a tourist and had come to the beach for a trip, he had heard that there are special shells there; And of course, he knew that people bring their dogs and cats there for a walk, and well! He also keeps many cats.... .

° His goal was to enjoy a little walk around the beach and the relaxing environment by the sea, until he saw you and everything changed! ; The way you were sitting on a relatively large boulder in the middle of the waves,... the way you gently waved your pink scaly tail and cute fins on the edge of the stone bed to feel the flow and humidity of the water,... even the way you Seeing that he had noticed your presence, you were surprised and scared and dived into the water again... All this seemed very cute, sweet and shocking at the same time for him!

° After the day he saw you for the first time, there wasn't a day when he didn't walk around with a small can of tuna and wait to see you again and feed you... and maybe even talk to you, if Let me! (Oh, poor Yukichi...he only specializes in cat food, mermaids, fish?! I don't know.)

🥞Osamu Dazai:

° Oh, isn't it clear?! As usual, he had come out due to excessive unemployment and of course having fun, after he had managed to get out from under the huge amount of work of the agency in Barra to spend some time... and that's where he saw you!

° You were sitting on the soft and wet sand of the beach near the water until the waves that came towards the beach slowly hit your tail and narrow waist... You guessed that maybe because of the excessive humidity of the air and the possibility of rain that day, the beach Be very, very quiet, but your prediction turned out to be wrong! Congratulations, anyway, Osamu was there and noticed you too!!!

° He was standing behind you at a relatively large distance and didn't make any noise, he didn't want you to notice his presence... until he decided to take slow and measured steps towards you, when a thin wooden splinter broke under his feet and he called out. Turning your head quickly, you noticed a person standing behind you! Osamu was looking at you and now seeing your sweet face, even a smile appeared on his face!

🐯 Nakajima Atsushi:

° After he had completed his mission, he had come to the beach for a short rest; He likes the semi-humid air and the view of the sunset there, what is better than enjoying the beauty of nature to calm the tired mind?!

° His thoughts wandered between the details of his next mission and the beauty of the rays of sunlight, until he noticed a beautiful creature whose delicate torso was visible between the green-blue waves of the sea, and as it happened, he was also staring at the sunset and humming a song. He was doing... Atsushi had seen you! Maybe for the first few seconds, it was shocking for him to see something that can be called a "mermaid", but after he remembered that he is a tiger, he just smiled a little and looked at the sight of you among the waves and under the rays...You are singing in the beautiful sunlight in the sunset, he was dazzled....

° You had reached a part of the music that was his favorite and he had memorized it well, you heard his voice speaking in a soft tone: "I know the rest... You call th shouts baby, I just wanna be yours...." It was strange that you didn't feel insecure even though he was around, you finally tilted your head back a little to see him, and without taking a step closer to each other or making any additional movement, just under your lips...You hummed the continuation of the music while enjoying the view of the sunset..!

🌻Kenji Myiazawa:

° He had come to collect some oysters for the children of the agency and maybe even make necklaces with oysters for some of them! He was walking in the closest part of the beach to the sea... his eyes wandered between the shells buried in the sand particles and he collected them one by one until his eyes fell on a large, colorful and shiny blue shell, he wanted it too. A delicate hand quickly pulled that oyster out of the sand and took it away from him!

° The only mistake you made was that you surfaced at the worst possible time to find your shell necklace, but you still didn't know how to let someone else take your necklace, especially since it was a human! When you were about to pull your hand back and go back into the water after grabbing the necklace, Kenji quickly grabbed your wrist and stared at you with a surprised and confused look and said, "Hey! What are you doing?! I chose that for Yusano-chan!"

° When you are shocked and pause for a few seconds and then whisper in a very low and careful voice: "This necklace is mine...", he pauses for a few moments and then gently releases your wrist, some of the shells He puts the ones he collected on the sand in front of you and says in a friendly and energetic tone:"Then you can take these for your friends too!"

🪻 Fyodor Dostoevsky:

° As usual, he had preferred a quiet place to rest and clear his mind for a few moments... especially since it was night and the beach was quieter and darker than any other time! He had arranged a chess board in a corner on the stone board and was playing with himself.

° Even the darkness of the night and the chess board and the pieces will not make you notice the light and beautiful sparkle of your tail under the moonlight! Finally, he took his gaze from the chessboard and for a few moments stared at the shine of your body and white skin under the moonlight, and then fixed his piercing purple eyes on you completely and whispered: "Beautiful..."

° he don't hurt you, in fact, you enjoyed talking with such a mysterious person who was considered a representative of all the people on this planet! And it was precisely for this reason that Fyodor came to the beach every night after the first night of your meeting, with a chess board in his hand....

💊Mori Ougai:

° The doctor of the underground world with all kinds of medical information, and the one who is secretly the head of Yokohama's biggest criminal gang, Port Mafia! Did he come there for nothing? Just to walk?NO!! He was even aware of the existence of creatures like you in that part of the beach!! Finally, he goes there to research some plant and animal samples....

° He knew from the beginning that your species go to the surface of the water at night due to excessive curiosity about the world outside the water... just as he knew that his species go into the water due to excessive curiosity about the underwater world! So he set a trap for you by picking foods near the water that he knew you like their scent!....When the smell of chocolate hits you, you can't hide yourself under the water more than that, and with curiosity and desire you stick your head out of the waves and stare at the shore, you swim a little closer to the shore until you hear he's piercing and playful sound...You hear him say in a scary tone:"I Catch you, little doll...!~".And yes..., your tail will get stuck in the net that was spread in the water!

° Manipulation, testing, abuse... it doesn't matter to him, he does it! The only thing you can do is to answer his questions more carefully and behave more obediently, so that you might suffer less and even get a reward from him... but be careful what information you give him, it might end up being expensive for you....very expensive!!!

“Haha! My hand hurt!!”

[halfnekoslair]

My AU main design post

Might be beta >w< Maybe I'll change something. People here make such interesting iterations and mine looks very basic.

But I'll post them anyway

In the subject of eyes, I know that Leo's and Raph's eyes look a little strange in my drawings. It is intentionally so. I wanted to portray Leo's eyes so dark that instead of a pupil, only a reflection is visible. And Raph's eyes should look more animal-like because he's basically my AU's main victim)

Leo: - Was appointed as oldest brother by Splinter. - Daddy's favorite. The best at many things that Splinter considers important. - Often refuses to participate in activities where he knows he will not be the best. - Arrogant, but afraid of the slightest dispraise. - Finds himself pretty cute. >w< - Minimum gear because he's that good. -Thinks black makes him look more ninja. - Quite a positive and adventurous person actually. He sees good in people. - And makes them feel a lot of cringe by telling them about it. - Come on, bad guys. Stop being bad. - A bit of a hypocrite as he thinks it's OK to beat up robbers while his whole family is stealing groceries.

Raph: - Was considered youngest due to the fact that he was lost in the first months after the mutation, but he fought his way to the second oldest position. Literally fought) - Obsessed with physical dominance. Puts strength training far ahead of stealth. - In fact, Splinter is the only one in the family on a relatively healthy diet with him. But they still don't get along and criticize each other in detail. - Likes to look monstrous and scare people. - Not exactly anger management issue... Rather, general cruelty towards humans plus inability to express emotions in a peaceful and quiet way. His brothers often can't tell if he just being loud for the sake of being loud or because something really happened. So they mostly ignore it all. This causes a lot of resentment. - He's pretty pessimistic and it's the hardest thing to get his trust. - In fact, he wants to be proved that he is wrong. - Almost no gear because he doesn't care. He will change his mind after the first major injury.

Donnie: - The middle child who is calm in this position because they all share the same birthday. And it's all stupid. - Considered the weakest fighter in the family, but generally too smart and strategic for that to be a problem. - He thought he would catch up with his brothers in training, but seeing how Leo and Raph jumping out of their shells, he realized he doesn't want to spend so much time on it instead of things he's really interested in. - Looks most human in proportion. Sometimes he dresses as a human to get into a place he really want. - Has an old grudge against Splinter that father does not appreciate his abilities enough and prefers playing ninjas with Leo. - It's mostly him who challenges Leo as a leader by criticizing his plans. - Technical genius. Compared to those around him) Can assemble almost anything. - Bonding with Mikey and Raph around this. - Sees the world in rather gloomy colors, but willingly jumps into any adventure if there is something interesting for him. - Carries a bag with all possible stuff. Outside of combat, he often lets Raph carry it. (He would never agree to carry it if he knew even half of what's inside) - All gear that he deemed reasonable to use. Mikey: - The youngest child, theoretically, and uses this position to his advantage. - Pretty acrobatic despite looking chubby. - Splinter thinks he's a gifted ninja, but Mikey keeps screwing up in training. - Maybe he doing it on purpose. Because it's very important for Leo to be the best and so on. - The best at cooking, but makes the kitchen a mess, which causes conflict with Raph, who also uses the kitchen. - Light and free spirited. Glad to make friends with anyone without questions. Often gets into trouble. -But he always gets saved and doesn't learn anything because he doesn't get the consequences. - The peacemaker. Knows when and what to say. - But often says something stupid just to see the result. - All the gear his brothers were able to get him to wear. Because the little one needs to be protected. - Wears cartoon character keychains and rattles them on missions, driving Leo crazy. Link to the post with all parts of this AU: url It's mostly at the very beginning >w<

[languajix]

WIP Weekend - FFR Fashion Show Theme

Time for an unusually long WIP Weekend snippet! In honor of the Fandom Family Reunion's current theme, 'Fashion Show,' here is a bit from a little Hold Every Memory side story I'm working on that I currently refer to as the duckling story.

@tmnt-fandom-family-reunion Cabin 14; just me!

You may remember this bit from 'Cause Your Future's Ready to Shine:

Here is a snippet from the duckling story that revisits that in more detail:

---

He had been vibing with his eyes closed, foot bopping to the music, when a few impatient little taps on his arm startled him out of his almost-meditation. He nudged one side of his headphones off his ear and propped himself up on his elbow. "What's up, little birdie?"

"We're gonna make you pretty!" Alicia declared, tugging at his forearm insistently, and okay. That was that. He dropped his phone into his pocket, rolled to his feet, and followed obediently, unthinkingly, just the slightest bit dumbstruck as she gripped his wrist in her own tiny hands and towed him along behind.

Pretty.

When was the last time he'd really let himself feel pretty?

Huh.

The living room was relatively quiet; most of the kids were in the gym with Raph, watching him punch stuff. All except Alicia, who was herding him towards the living area, and Belle, who was already sprawled out on the couch with assorted bags and plastic containers pried open around her.

Alicia pulled him to sit in front of said couch, facing outwards, and once he'd followed her unspoken direction she patted him on the shell like an obedient pet, and he snorted quietly, leaning back.

He felt small hands grasping under his mask tails and pulling them behind him, splayed out over the curve of his shell, and he resigned himself to being played with for a while like a big green doll. It was cute. He was glad that Belle seemed to be coming out of her shell, enough to be goofing around like this with a friend.

The girls whispered between each other, interspersed with happy giggles. Someone began tugging on his mask tails. He tried to relax into the music coming from his one headphone still over his ear, and to ignore the way the memory of the word pretty still ignited something small but warm in his chest. 'Pretty' wasn't for turtles like him, not with their whole… situation. The Foot stuff and. You know. The green. The muscles. He'd tried to enjoy a few stolen moments wearing skirts or dresses when they were younger, play it off all goofy and unashamed, but all of that bravado had crumpled under the weight of loss and fear and that awful numbness.

He barely flinched in surprise as a couple of bead necklaces slipped over his head, hitting his snout with a plastic clatter, leaving him blinking and shaking his head a little to dislodge them until they settled properly around his neck and over the front of his plastron.

"Sorry," Alicia whispered, and she and Belle broke into more silly laughter.

"And what do we have here?" Raph passed by with a water bottle in his hand and a tiny duckling in one arm, all sweaty and gross from his workout.

"Your ducklings are making me pretty, Raphy!" Mike grinned up at the squinted curious look he was being shot, trying to come off as wholly confident despite the tiniest little self-conscious thrill running down to the tips of his fingers. He didn't know why being pretty was suddenly just a little embarrassing, why it made him feel strangely vulnerable.

"Well then," Raph rumbled, and Mike could hear him walking around behind the couch. Normally this might be time for a rude comment, something about how you're gonna need a lot more than that to make this bonehead pretty, and Mike braced himself for it with a lot more steel than that kind of silly comment perhaps warranted, but Raph only hummed.

"You got a good start, there, but I bet we can make it a little more even," Raph said, and Mike couldn't remember the last time he'd heard his brother sound that utterly soft and gentle. He felt more tugging on his mask tails as Raph did… something to them. He still wasn't entirely sure what.

"Am I gonna be a pretty princess, Raph?" Mike asked, joking but also kind of not.

"The prettiest, Mike," Raph assured him with an audible grin in his voice, tone teasing but not mean, and Mike was so thankful that they were finally, finally back to a point that Raph could joke like this. "I'm gonna have to fight all the knights of the kingdom away with a stick. Lemme at 'em."

"Does that make you the dragon, then?" Mike mused. "Protecting the princess up in the tower?"

"Y'know what? I'm okay with that. Can't beat fire breath and a lotta sharp teeth, and of course the scales," Raph tugged Mike's mask tails one more time. "There we go. Lookin' better?"

"Yeah!" Belle exclaimed. "Thank you, Mister Raph!"

"None of this 'mister' stuff, okay kid? Just Raph."

"Okay Mister Raph," the ducklings chorused, and did Mike say that he loved them? Because he did. Raph's ducklings were awesome. He could tell Raph agreed by the way he harrumphed grumpily.

The girls kept playing with Mike's mask for a while, eventually urging him to take the headphones off completely. They snapped a few hair clips onto the edge of his mask - and ow, that kind of hurt - and then Alicia pretended to comb the top of his head with a blunt plastic comb, which he could feel through the mask as a sort of light massage. That, along with a smattering of small fingers pressing against his shell so lightly that he could barely feel it, was actually sort of calming. Like a clumsy little spa trip.

Leo walked through at one point just to eye him over with his mouth pressed flat, looking like he wanted to say something but was carefully restraining himself. This is a waste of time, probably. Mike stuck out his tongue, daring him to be anything less than complimentary and supportive in front of the kids. Leo walked on.

(…Leo was still a work in progress, though they were finally starting to get somewhere, thank shell. He'd turned into a bit of a phantom in the lair since the kids were first dropped off, but Mike wasn't giving up his hard-won ground just because Leo was a little nervous around some pint-sized pipsqueaks.)

"Okay, we're done!" Alicia cheered as Belle slid his mask tails back over his shoulder. "Go look! Look!"

He slid to his feet and obligingly puttered over to the mirror on the wall nearby; one of the many cracked, tarnished, over-used and under-loved things they'd filled the lair with when they realized they'd be having human guests.

It was as he suspected, kind of - the sort of little girl makeover with plastic baubles and bright colors, beauty in the playfulness and simplicity rather than in any sort of elegance. Strings of beads clicking against his plastron, hair clips attached to the edges of his mask…

…but his mask tails. Oh. He stared, for a long, long second, a stuck record, a caught breath.

The girls had used a purple ribbon to turn his tails into a braid, with beads interspersed through the many loops. They'd somehow managed to stick to his family's colors - blue, red, purple. White. Yellow, green.

(I carry you with me everywhere I go, he had told Donnie, once, when he caught Donnie looking at his purple painted nails. He knew Donnie loved it because Donnie gave him one of those rare quiet smiles, and the astral plane had warmed like a breaking dawn.)

Looking at himself in the mirror, wearing the colors of Donnie, of Raph, of Dad, April, Casey… he felt right, he felt happy with himself in a way that he had been so sure he'd never entirely feel again. He felt pretty. He felt complete.

He grinned, and it felt so real.

He turned, then, to get a better angle.

He started ugly chortling.

They'd stuck a terribly fun assortment of stickers to the back of his shell, right in the spots he couldn't reach - puffy stickers, holographic stickers, a few with fuzzy bits. Unicorns. Shooting stars.

It reminded him of himself when he was a kid. He'd done that, once. Got a whole box of rejects, slapped them on his brothers' shells.

"Look at that! I am, in fact, very pretty," he said for Alicia and Belle's benefit, "you guys should go into business as professional stylists! Raph can be your second customer."

"In your dreams!" he heard from the dojo nearby, and he snorted.

He stared again at his reflection, and you know what?

He did feel pretty.

[afreakingdork]

Weak Spot - Chapter 41

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

@garbagemilkshake is really selling it with this week's chapter artwork 😏

Warnings: Aged-up Turtles, Romance, Meet Cute, Villain Donatello, Cussing, Crushes, Xenophobia, Fear, Intimidation, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hurt/Comfort, Love, AFAB Reader, Vaginal Sex, Sex Rough, Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Creampie, Teasing, Scent Kink, Sexual Tension, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Marathon Sex, Somnophilia, Intercrural Sex, Bondage, Feral Behavior, Feral Donatello (TMNT), Mating Cycles/In Heat, Public Sex

Synopsis:  A love story of villainous proportions! Though it hadn’t come easily, as these things rarely do, you found yourself in a whirlwind romance with a handsome and mysterious mutant. His idiosyncrasies had been easy to ignore as attraction grew into something more. However, will love endure when the unknowns about him end up being far darker than you ever considered?

It's wild that we've finally gotten here because it feels like it's been centuries, but this is the final chapter that includes a scene inspired by @some-guy-named-dominyk It dates back to when Weak Spot was still being conceptualized back in January! Huge shout-out and also how freaking far we've come!!!

Fem!Reader References/Warnings Below Cut

Also available on Ao3

First 💜 Previous

Last warning for the 🍋 under the cut. Minors DNI!

Fem!Reader References/Warnings: couple of bra mentions, impregnation mention, boob accentuation, folds teasing, getting wet

“Hey, Don?” From where your back was pressed to the flat of his side, you shifted your head against the bicep it was resting on. It accentuated the crook you’d carved out where you were comparing your nails to his.

“Hm?” You could feel him hum through his shell and how he had yet to stop scrolling on his phone.

“When’s your birthday?” You pressed your thumbs side by side to see if the texture was similar.

He made a small noise of recognition and you listened as he let his phone fall to his chest. “Approximately 35, hm.”

Squinting at how that wasn’t an answer, you turned a bit. It wasn’t enough to see him, but instead clip the canopy of your bed. “Donnie?”

“My age.” He clarified. 

“That’s not-” You gave a signaling grunt that you were going to roll over.

He adjusted his arm to give you room.

“-what I asked.” You looked at him, pressing your chin to his plastron.

“I don’t have one.”

“What?”

He gazed at you with faint amusement.

“So…” You felt your expression fall. “Every time you said ‘approximately’…?”

“No way to know for sure. My testing is as accurate as possible.”

“You said 35 now, so you obviously have a date you roll it over?”

The corner of his lip turned up and you felt the slide as the arm you’d been laying on came around your body. “The date is arbitrary.”

“It’s not funny. You’ve never had a birthday?” You tucked your chin down knowing it made you look up at him through your lashes.

The allure manifested in more affection. “What point is there to a mad man celebrating the passage of time?”

That made sense.

In a blink, you saw by how many levels.

There was little time for cake when he was scrambling not to starve as a child.

Balloons would have only hindered a fugitive teen.

He assumedly only wanted one prize in his 20s and that wasn’t something to be gift wrapped.

By 30, he was only starting out life and whipping up a party for one was a low priority.

In a bend, you felt him brush your shoulder before he pet your head. “Your thoughts?”

“I’m a little sad for you.” This time you sank down, dejected, until you could feel the rigid surface of his scutes against your lips.

He pressed his palm to the back of your head and coaxed your gaze to him. “I’m reminded of an Einstein quote.”

“’Time is relative?’” You only flicked your pupils to him before letting them fall.

“There is a continuation in some cases.”

With mild reluctance, you looked at him.

"'It's only worth depends upon what we do as it is passing.'"

The press of a digit said who he was referring to.

You softened with a pout. “Don…”

“Give me one.”

The jolt brought you all the way up to sitting.

His smile grew enough that it curled up the corners of his vision.

“Don, that’s like really important.”

“I know.” He’d had the reach to keep his hand on your head, but he let it cascade to your shoulder. There he gave a reassuring squeeze. “For you.”

Heart fluttering, you pursed your lips to think. “You switching to 35 now plus all the lost time makes me want to do it as soon as possible.”

“It can be tomorrow.” He offered with little weight.

“No, too soon.” You dismissed him absently as you wracked your brain. “Uh what star sign is it right now?”

Donnie seemed less amused as he arched his brow. Still, he relented and showed you his phone as he typed that query in. “Virgo.”

“Oh.” You spoke with a knowing air that he clearly didn’t comprehend. “Yeah, let me see.” You poured over his plastron and he offered up his phone. Tabbing over the date range you chuckled at the aspects of the sign.

Deals with information like a computer.

Chases after ideals to a destructive degree.

Must remember flaws are not defects.

A kind, supportive lover.

“This one for sure!”

Donnie sensed your amusement and pulled his phone back to review. “Inane.”

You laughed.

“For that reason?” He gave a face of disgust.

“No, just a happy coincidence.”

He exaggerated his expression.

You changed angles to peck his cheek. “One month from now and make it a weekend so…” You tipped his phone and in a few clicks had a calendar up. “September 17th.”

He made a show of rolling his eyes.

“Want to have a party?”

Coming down only partially from his grouch, he observed you. “What do you think?”

It wasn’t rhetorical and had you tapping a scute. “Like do I think you’ll have fun?”

“You have experience in the area. In addition to knowledge regarding me.”

“A small one.” You decided, giving him another kiss. “Anyone you’d like to invite or not?”

“The obvious.”

“Kaleb.” You agreed.

“Your friend group has been agreeable.” His look evened out to one you couldn’t quite read. “There’s been no move on their knowledge.”

“Yeah.” You felt as though you were giving whatever sentiment he had. That meant it was a sort of cautious optimism. “I think we’re okay.”

You felt a small pull in his body at your combined inference.

You smiled all the more. “We can find out by inviting them. If they’re really worried, they aren’t going to want to go to a villain’s birthday party.”

Donnie made a noise of agreement and gave a vague nod.

“We’ll rent out a bar.” You walked through your thoughts as they came up. “Cake, decorations, we should play catch up! Do some silly games that kids do, just cause. Why not? It’ll be fun as long as everyone commits! Then something more your style, like a trivia game?” You turned the question to him.

As he chewed the concept, his eyes lit up incrementally.

“We’ll have to do everyone versus you.”

“It still would not be a challenge.”

“You’ll have fun destroying us.”

“I aim for a perfect score.”

You chuckled and shared a kiss. “Flavor of cake?”

He hummed with interest. “Let’s order a nice one. You pick a style and I’ll schedule a tasting?” You watched as he disappeared into himself for a moment before snapping back to reality. “A preview.”

“You… aren’t talking about the birthday party…”

“No, I’m not.” He looked straight at you.

Where your heart was beating out of your chest before, it did a single leap to escape. “We haven’t-!”

“Discussed anything.” He agreed. “No rush, only a taste of what’s to come.”

Heat pooled in your cheeks and the weight brought your eyeseye down. “I do want to talk about it sometime.”

“We will.” He propped up on his elbows to catch you. “Not now. Birthday first.”

You nodded and kissed him to relieve the insistent ache.

He returned it with reassurance.

In a break for air, you spoke against his lips. “What can I get you?”

He stole an extra press before looking at you for clarity.

“A birthday gift. You’ll get gifts, so I’ll need ideas for the others, but I’m asking for me.”

“A gift…” He pondered and laid back into his pillow.

You cooled down your face before chasing him.

“Uranium.” He gave a bob of laughter.

From where you had just rested on his chest, your head shot up. “Like… the radioactive stuff!?”

He nodded, amused with himself. 

“Why?!”

“I’m not allowed.” He scratched your back to soothe your surprise.

You chuffed as his words did the opposite. “There’s a story there!”

Donnie’s eyes shot to the top right of his vision as if it was a great labor. “With its incredible amount of uses, it has somehow eluded me. I broke into many labs to retrieve some, but I was never once able to leave with it.”

You stared blankly.

“Nuclear weapon threat.” He clarified, nonchalant.

The corners of your lips dropped.

“It can be sold publicly under certain criteria, but I have been banned under an agreement.”

You pressed down on his plastron.

He feigned it pressing his lungs. “A stipulation of working with government approval. I’m not to come into possession of it by any means. They have multiple tracking programs that exist not to stop me, they know better, but to flag my entry into a system. My funding would be cut and all my projects seized and destroyed.”

You openly paled.

He gave a knowing huff. “Pity. Even if it could advance humanity; they’d rather destroy as a feeble means to slight me.”

“I know… like know, but it’s still so surprising when you say things like that…” You bore your gaze into his plastron.

He flattened out his hand to your back and pressed for comfort. “Perspective.”

Your gave a single nod.

“Unobtainable.” He rubbed up your spine to get your attention.

You gave it with a slight turn.

“Whatever you actually give me, I’ll cherish.”

You slowly sank down to hug him.

He gave you a squeeze.

“Thank you for sharing your dream.”

He nodded against your head.

“A month doesn’t seem like enough time now.”

He bobbed and gave the small of your back a sympathetic pat. “I said cherish, but preferably not a joke gift.”

You brought your face up to show him you’d take it seriously. “It’s your first.” You did your own knowing flash forward. “Down the road, someday.”

His gaze softened as he liked the insinuation of your future together.

You brushed his cheek slowly, committing the look to memory.

He allowed the etching.

Returning from hanging it in a mental gallery, you settled back down against his scutes. “Can you really not get around the flagging?”

“Irritatingly enough, no.” He clipped. “They flag every single entry into the system, even their own. They bested me only in tediousness.”

“Bureaucracy.”

“The bane of us all.” He nearly groaned.

-

“You celebrate birthdays.” You stared flatly at the drone from over your pad of paper.

“Oh yeah, every year!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. looked over from where he was moving music around on Donnie’s monitors. He could have easily done so within his head, but he’d offered to share for the sake of hanging out.

“You and Donnie live in two different worlds.” You couldn’t help but laugh as you made a note.

“Don’t I know it!” He rolled his eyes and you glimpsed a mass of files lift and drop into another folder.

“What do you do?” Where you had your knees pulled up into Donnie’s computer chair, you let the pad fall against your thighs.

“Gaming tournaments, server games, oh! And, one time, an online scavenger hunt!”

“You planned them all?”

“For sure! I’m more interested in everyone else having a good time!” He beamed you a glowing smile.

You jolted. “Ah! When is it?! Why didn’t I open with that?”

“Because you were thrown by what a dope MC I am!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. spun his chassis to reflect light which made it look like sparkles were coming off of him. “January 28th!”

“Early in the year.” You mused.

“Christmas part two.” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. croned. “Any excuse to party!”

“You know…” Running your fingers along the edge of your pad, you dipped your eyes. “Coral wanted to meet you and the others know about Donnie…”

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. had turned to face the monitors again and sent only his digital pupils over to you as he tried to reign himself in. “I’ve heard the second part.”

“You’re helping monitor.” You gave a bob of your head to indicate you knew. “Sorry, I haven’t had time to mention the first, everything was up in the air for a bit.”

“Dad’s PTSD.” He hovered a little to the side, just enough to where you could glimpse the other side of his beak. “Retraumatization and all.”

“Yeah.” Though on the mend, wounds like his were not something to be cured. They were to be carried and coped with. Even tonight, though he’d been fine enough going on his own to an investor dinner as a means to give you space to plan, you still had worries.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” You lifted your gaze at the new inflection.

“Not to push, but it sounded like you were leading to something… awesome??”

You pushed your lips to a corner. “Someone’s being selfish.”

“Me? Pssh! Never! Who’s that? Couldn’t be me…!” His gaze darted away before he flew right up to you. “But seriously, Coral wants to meet me and we’re already talking about a party so putting two and two together…!?”

You bopped him with your notepad.

He revved excitedly under it.

“Want to come to a birthday party?”

In a flick he rose up and knocked your pad to your chest. “Uh, duh!!”

You chuckled.

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. swung back and forth shaking the rear of his unit. “A real party! A real party!”

“Cor’s gonna be mad, you know.”

“Pissed!” He sang, undeterred in his little dance.

“You might wanna pretend to be a little afraid. For her sake.”

“Nah!” He did a barrel roll back to you. “I’m gonna be me.”

“And everyone will love you.” You couldn’t help but reach out for him.

He let you pull him in where he nuzzled your cheek.

Releasing him, he hovered close and you tapped the pad. “Okay, so I’ve got the party supplies. You found a location.”

“Music?” He pretended to be aloof and whistled his way back to the computer.

“I do owe you that DJ event, but that’s supposed to be for you.”

He tapped the desk with one of his rotors. “Now look here, what’s a DJ to a party of one?”

Your lips fell a little.

“A blast.” He went on, without noticing.

It brought a smile to your face.

“But a crowd?” Another roar of his motors took him into another flip. “Now that’s a bash!”

“Remember, Donnie-”

“Pops doesn’t like music, yeah, yeah!” He waved a rotor at you before focusing on the screen as if he were writing hundreds of words a second.

You watched as dozens of screens and folders rotated for him to sift through.

“I’m gonna make a playlist so good that even he’ll shake his booty!”

If anyone could do it, you bet it was Shelly. “Now, that I want to see.”

“A gift for him and everyone else!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. slowed, playing a song and nodding as he considered it.

A gift.

Drawing the quintessential box on the page, you hadn’t made any progress in that department.

Whatever song S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. was playtesting perfectly encapsulated your mood on the matter.

It was solemn and quiet with little change to the soft tune.

You wanted to get Donnie something truly special. It was his first birthday after all, but it was near impossible to think of something he couldn’t already buy or make himself. Art was always an option. It ticked personality and showed care, but you didn’t really want something displayed. You wanted something that would be useful to him and his utilitarian housing choices showed his priorities. There was also the option of a plant, something that could be cared for, but how could it beat out the many little green babies that were growing happily above your head.

Doodling a little bow on top of the box, the song changed to one in a similar vein, but with a raising melody.

It ramped up in a way that you wished your mind would. Being honest with yourself, you really wished you could fulfill his impossible uranium dream. Sketching out radiating glow lines from the box, you could only think of how there was no way for someone like you to accomplish the task. If Donnie had never once been able to get his hands on the sum, what chance did you have?

His hands created technology far beyond what the world currently had to offer.

You could barely sketch out three dimensions to a square. 

Etching shading that didn’t make sense, your pen made a blotch from a minor clogging. Frowning at it, you swept your hand over only for it to smudge on the page and your skin.

Grumbling, you brought the side of your hand up to lick it away.

Hand in mouth, you had raised up to see S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. hard at work.

Blinking once, you pulled your hand back to see the ink, only a faint purple mark on your skin.

You gave a widening smile.

“Hey, Shelly?”

“Hm?” He didn’t turn to you as he swapped two sound files back and forth, unable to settle on which should go first.

“Is there a place that stores Uranium in New York?”

-

Get home.

Dinner.

Hang out with your partner for a couple hours.

Work again.

Figure out how to explain that last bit.

Returning to the apartment and checking the first box, you greeted Donnie with what you hoped wasn’t too much enthusiasm. He didn’t seem out of sorts as he gave you a peck and returned to the mug he was nursing as he stared at lines of data. You inquired about it as you set your bag down and he muttered that he was having an odd error with no obvious culprit. You hadn’t picked up much in the way of the language, but you had a vague understanding that the whole thing didn’t allow for even the slightest mistake.

Letting him read it to you, he found it within a few minutes and the excitement of it had brought him over to scoop you up. A quick cuddle and a longer make-out session then gave way to a meal of reheated leftovers. Having been prepared in advance, it allowed Donnie to focused on the release of this program. As the very one he’d gone to see the investors about, the whole thing seemed to be a smashing success. From what you understood, his data would be integral for some worldwide implementation. He assured you it was all above board, but not something you’d notice as it was more of a work horse for other programs. 

Taking his word for it, you made it through eating and chatting. Having gone over what birthday plans you had so far, Donnie then supplied a list of bakeries he was interested in. Together, you whittled it down to three options, with him ready to make appointments. Thinking that was all in the way of business, he then departed for what should have been your usual wind down routine. He wanted to be up bright and early so as he went to wash up, you stewed on the couch about how you’d never been able to reveal your ever approaching departure. 

Water rushing and your window closing with each swish through it, your brain stalled as you tried to come up with a semblance of a plan. Each one combusted before it took form and you cursed the lousy flammable ground they formed on. Unable to prepare for even your boyfriend’s reaction, as it went left unimagined, you heard his voice before he touched you.

Spasming out of sudden fear, you shot away from his extended hand.

He stared at you with wide eyes. “The shower’s open.”

“Yup! Right!” Too loud.

“Y/N.” Donnie pulled at a towel around his neck, knowing this reaction all too well.

From where you were sitting on the couch, you crawled to the back of it as if you were standing at a podium. In the speaker’s role, you address your audience of one. “Birthday presents.”

He shifted his weight to one hip and evaluated you. “Yes?”

“They’re meant to be a surprise.”

His head tipped. “So I’ve heard.”

“Which means… I need to keep something from you.” Your gaze plummeted.

“An understood agreement.” He stepped forward and bent down to catch your vision. “We discussed the party being one.”

“That wouldn’t make sense.” You gave a nervous laugh as you turned your head. “You already know too much there.” 

You sensed him waiting.

Picking your nails, you squeezed your eyes shut as you ripped the bandage off. “I have work tonight!”

You could almost hear his brain halting. “Your office is closed.”

“Yes…” You rose one lid at a time to find him staring down at you. “It’s not… at my office.”

Whatever patience waned with an edge of irritation. “Explain.”

That made it all the harder. “I… picked up a second job. It’s a whole thing and I hope you’ll understand, but it’s necessary to get your birthday present.”

Silence beat with the hollow of a drum.

Each percussion shook your core until you forced your attention to your partner.

Irritation now lined frustration.

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m not going to wash up.” You scrambled to get off the couch. “In a little under an hour, I’m going to need to head out for my first shift.”

You heard his padding against the ground and stiffened as you prepared for him to stop you. Instead, you found him near the front door, rifling through his things. Rounding the couch to get a better look, he turned and approached with some black in hand.

Blinking at him and then down, you spied a sleek credit card.

“If it’s money, please.”

“Donnie, that’s not-” You brought your hand up flat to push it away.

He pressed the edge of the card into your palm. “It’s in your name.”

“Donnie!”

“I know.” Worry laced his features. “It exists as a contingency. Under my account, but out of my control. Full access to all my funds.”

“Don-”

He stepped right into your space to show his insistence. “I understand there may be a custom that says you need to spend your funds and, in this way, they are.”

“It’s not about the money!” Your yell distracted him so that you could push his arm into his plastron.

His brow ridge came down like a stone. “I don’t understand.”

“I know and I can’t explain, but I think you’ll really love this.” You took your own turn shuffling forward which nearly pressed the two of you together. “Just for a little while.”

“How long?” He made no move.

“30 days.”

The left side of his face twitched. “How often?”

“Uh…” You resisted grabbing your phone. “I just saw my schedule, 5 days a week, three in a row for my first set.”  

“Your normal job?”

You stared into his pectoral scutes. “Still going. It’ll be hard, but it’s only for a bit.”

“How long are these shifts?”

There was no good way to spin this part. “Eight hours…”

His hands locked onto your arms. “Y/N!”

“It’s not a lot of sleep, I know.” You were forced to meet his gaze.

“Full time!” Fury sat in his eyes. “That’s two hours of sleep at most!” 

“It’s not every night!” You pressed.

“Whatever this is for, isn’t worth it.”

“It’s for you! You’ll see. You’ll-”

“No.” He released and stepped back from you. “Reconsider.”

You gave a withered exhale. “No, there’s a whole plan in place. I-”

His mouth opened to protest.

“Stop.” You shook your head and headed the other direction. “Listen, alright?”

He was quiet and trailed behind as you headed into the bedroom.

“It’s going to be miserable. I get it. I’m painfully aware of how exhausted I’m going to be and the amount of coffee I’ll need to keep it up, but this is important. You do everything for me.” You slowed, just shy of the bathroom and turned to address him. “I’ve finally figured out a way to return even one tenth of that and for such a special occasion? I need to do this, Don.”

You watched his eyes round to you multiple times as he searched for a shred to tear apart your words. 

“I’m gonna wash my face at least.” You explained before stepping into the threshold.

He let you be which you took as a good sign.

Emerging a few minutes later, already a bit tired, but refreshed, you found him clothed and stewing on your bed.

Walking over to him, you tried to touch him, but he moved away.

Giving a sigh, you went to grab a snack to take with you. Finding little, you considered hitting a convenience store for that and some energy drinks. Trying to plot out exactly when to drink them so as not to disrupt the little sleep you’d get, time whittled away until you needed to head out. You gathered up your things and waited for Donnie to come to you. When he didn’t, you trailed slowly to find him laying down.

The picture of asleep, you approached his side of the bed cautiously. “Don? I’m heading out.”

He gave a little noise that he’d heard and turned over away from you.

You watched him with a sad smile. “See you later.”

Silence chased you as you exited the apartment.

-

You should have realized it was going to be a thing.

Returning that first night had caught him, still awake with ruffled sheets as a clear indication that he’d been angrily tossing and turning the whole time you were gone. Even then, he refused to receive you which you hadn’t minded because you were dead on your feet. Sweaty, you were forced to stumble to the shower where you boiled yourself before flopping into the bed still wet. As if to escape you, Donie rolled to the very edge of the bed and your lids fell on his form.

Breakfast was waiting for you when your alarm rudely interrupted what had to have been the second your eyes had closed.

What wasn’t there was your boyfriend.

Exhausted thoughts made you wonder if this was your first real fight as you ate the tasty balanced meal he’d left.

Sheer will power and a nap at lunch had gotten you through the day. Arriving home that night was nothing short of a miracle. Knowing you had to do it all over again created a sense of dread unlike anything you’d felt before.

It said a lot considering what you’d gone through.

Donnie  passed you a single glance before he shifted to a new tantrum stage.

“You’re not leaving.”

“You’re not stopping me.” You were just exhausted enough that you had no control over your facial expression.

He took full offense to your bitter glare and tone.

What should have been your small respite quickly devolved into a screaming match. 

Adrenaline had its own energizing prowess, but you sensed it was short lived.

Heat loosened nothing. 

There were no daggers to be thrown. 

With little more to argue other than you not going and you going, the matter had ended with you storming off ahead of schedule. It left you fuming as you rode over to the building and trapped as you plopped down in a locker room. Pressure releasing, you felt especially alone as you laid on a bench. Surrounded by the scent of starch and cleaning products, you crashed. An empty shell, your lids closed.

Opening them revealed your boss, glaring over you.

A stern and stout woman, you apologized profusely as she ushered you to change. Afraid of earning her scorn too soon as it was only your second night, you were served the weight task of cleaning an entire floor. Having barely shadowed another the night before for only one room, you had questions that she squashed it without a care.

This was what was expected of you.

It was in your job description. 

You’d taken the position of night cleaner. 

Changing into your breathable cotton uniform, you took your caddy as you hadn’t earned a cart yet. It meant more trips back to supply, but you focused on your tasks. From gathering trash to mopping, you put in the labor necessary. Exhaustion ate away at detailing which summoned your boss to reexamine your work. Putting in the effort to immediately clean each spot you missed, you heard her quiet as you scrubbed. A faint appreciation tracked you and you made sure to log the level you would need to maintain.

It meant you stayed an hour later to do the job right which brought you home to an even more furious Donnie.

The only thing that kept you from another fight was the lonely hour of sleep it left you with.

Blinking in bed, you woke to find yourself worse for wear.

Dead on your feet, you could barely raise your head as you headed toward the kitchen.

Another spread was laid out and this time the foods were ones you vaguely remembered Donnie once explaining were good for long term energy release. It showed kindness where his person had none and you took the meal to the couch, having not seen him.

Eating slowly and knowing you were losing precious seconds, you got the barest bump that got you back to your feet. Just as you were about to pass into the bedroom, you heard the door open and you glanced in that direction unconsciously. 

It took only a second for him to fly towards you. “Look at yourself!”

“I will.” You didn’t have the energy to fend him off. “Mirror in a sec.”

He caught you by your chin. “This farce has already gone on long enough. What sort of employer would allow you to work in this condition!?”

“You think I’m the only one beat down working a night shift as a second job?” You scraped up enough to glower at him.

He released you; the barb planted.

“Probably don’t look as bad as you.” You turned and headed toward the bathroom.

“I’m worried!” He growled, not giving further chase.

You paused, grabbed the door jamb to keep from falling. “Not now, I meant 20s you, probably. I’m guessing.”

He puffed up with offense as you closed the bathroom door behind you.

Just before you flicked the tap you heard him punching clean through something soft.

-

Through your third night into work that next morning had been uneventful. On your last legs, breakfast passed with you picking at it as fatigue took everything from you. Left a husk, you ate little before departing. The commute came in stints that you recognized as micro sleep. Hoping those dangers were only for driving, you maneuvered white collar work with a sort of gratitude. Slacking days were easy to pass off and you finished out the day with little more than a single task done.

Ignoring all else to daydream about collapsing into your bed for what could finally be a full night’s sleep, you made your dreams a reality and slept through your stop. Thankful only that no one had robbed you, you scrambled to your apartment nearly an hour late. Donnie stood out on the street in front of your apartment. Taking full blame for this one, you collapsed into him as soon as you got close. He scooped you up and you fell asleep before he got you to the elevator.

You awoke with a start in bed, covered in a blanket.

He was waiting beside you with a piping hot mug.

He only offered it.

You accepted and looked over the golden liquid before giving him a curious look.

It was the most awake you’d been in 32 odd hours.

“I’ll move to begging.” He waited to speak until you’d drained half the cup. He then backed himself off the bed and onto his knees.

“Don-” The wafting scent of the tea wrapped around you.

He came all the way down until his head touched the floor. “Please quit.”

“Get up-”

“Please!”

It took some work and tea rushed down your wrist as you spilled, but you eventually tossed your legs off the side of the bed. “I’m not going to.”

“Why?” He came up, his face contorted. “Nothing could be worth this.”

“You act like I’m dying.”

“I-!” In a flash of malicious rage, you leaned away as he shot to his feet.

He saw the fear and recoiled with a nervous shake to his pupil.

Only when he got ahold of it did he turn to you. “No one knows the effects of exhaustion more than I.”

You slacked and stared at your mug.

“Death may be rare, but the precursor ailments pile up in an instant. It has lasting effects on your body!”

“It’s… one month…” You pressed. “Not even, at this point.”

“A few days shy and you already collapsed!!” He stepped into your space, but didn’t touch you. “If you won’t listen to me, listen to your body!”

“I am.” He’d left enough room for you to get to your feet and you passed him the mug which he took weakly. “Three days in a row is my limit. There’s some flexibility to my schedule so I’ll tell my boss that.”

“The groveling?!” He crowded you as you tried to head toward the bathroom.

“No effect.” You left him with the statement as you stepped onto linoleum.

He stomped off with enough fury that you were sure it was heard two floors down.

-

Refreshed only to a point, you caught that Donnie was quiet in a plotting sort of way. You might have given that more attention if you hadn’t been caught by what felt like starvation. Facilities returned with priority first, your day of barely eating meant you doubled calories on the next. Without a word you were served your larger portion which you paid for in only a vague stomach ache. Cleaned, dressed, and ready to depart, Donnie caught you by the door.

“Last chance.”

“To quit?” You asked him dully, settling into his hold. “Not happening.”

He simply hummed and released you.

You gave a sigh and tried to kiss him as you couldn’t remember doing so in the past three days.

He dodged you and took a calculated step back. “See you tonight.”

You opened your mouth to question the ominous flare, but he had already begun his retreat. Giving a frown at the omen, you slipped out the door.

Office work passed by and you gave twice the effort to make up for the light days. No one seemed to notice your workload and you only hoped that would continue in the coming weeks. At lunch, you ordered twice your usual portion from a local Thai place and chewed huge mouthfuls while texting your boyfriend. He left you on read which, if you weren’t already preparing for whatever stunt he was going to pull, would have put you on high alert. 

With the rest of the day busy and the ride home mundane, you entered the apartment with your eyes peeled. Donnie was at his computer and turned to you, nonplused. “Carbs for dinner?”

“For energy?” You asked, wary.

He ignored you to move to the kitchen.

“Any warning about what you’re up to?”

Silence followed and you glared openly at his form until it was clear he wasn’t bothered by it. Shoving your bag off, you decided you’d join in his childish display and hung out as far away from him as you could. Lounging in the bedroom, he left your bowl on the bar when it was ready and silently headed to eat in the living room alone. Without warning, it took you far too long to notice he was done and, by the time you got to it, your food had gone cold. Grumbling at the microwave, you snuck angry glances at him which he continued to snub.

Already deciding what crumbs to spill on his half of the bed, you hit play on a video at full volume to twist the knife. His shoulders hiked as the only indication he’d noticed. A double edged sword, both you and your speakers dealt with the brunt as you stubbornly ate without changing the dial. Leaving the bowl for him to deal with, you then got ready for your night shift. It was in moving through the bathroom that you noticed Donnie curiously doing something similar. In clips, you saw him change out of his loungewear, but it took until the second he pulled a sweater over his head for you to stomp over to him. “Oh, hell no!”

“What?” His head popped through the turtleneck with smarmy malice. “I have things to attend to.”

“You’re going to follow me.” You hissed.

“Tracking is not allowed.” He offered with a slight turn of his head.

You smoothed your hackles a bit. You needed to take him on level headed or it’d be the same useless fight. 

“Consider me an attendant.” He moved to get his coat.

“How is that any different!?”

“I’m not following. I’ll be beside you.”

“You think you’re so smart!” You stormed away from him to get a lunchbox from the kitchen.

“Think?” He openly mocked.

“We’ve been together over a year.” You opened the fridge and plucked out a few things. “You think I haven’t thought of this?”

His pause said he had, but your insinuation left him not wholly sure.

“I can’t take you on.” You responded simply, zipping the pouch up. “Not alone.”

It took a full second for Donnie to be set ablaze. “S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.”

The ghost of the name off his lips had you smiling.

“My creation!” He roared.

“He knows the whole plan.” You shrugged, stepping out from the kitchen to show how unbothered you were.

“He-!” What struck Donnie was a knife to his back.

You hadn’t thought of how that could be a slight.

A display of your lack of trust in him.

A flaunt of who had it instead.

“W-wait!” You started to move, but he flung his body away from you as if you carried a deadly disease. “Don’t be so dramatic!”

“Me?” He seethed, fleeing the scene. “I should pass you off for torture!”

“You’re a child!” You threw your hands up and stormed towards the door.

He followed at a distance.

“Good luck.” You threw bitterly over your shoulder as you stepped out.

You pulled the door and felt him snatch it before it slammed.

He then gave a sharp yelp as it yanked closed on his fingers with neither of your powers.

“Thank you, Shelly.” You told the air and headed toward the stairs for a quicker get away.

Buzz!

“That isn’t going to hold him.”

Buzz. Buzz.

“You got a plan?”

You got a single prolonged buzz of excitement.

“Have fun!”

-

Coming home that morning, you found Donnie sitting on the steps looking like an absolute wreck. His shirt was torn, one of his sleeves were gone, and muck clung to the bottom of his pants as if he’d waded through a bog.

“Some night.” You remarked, cocking a hip to look over him.

“You cheated.” He glowered up at you with his pupils alone.

“I played your game.” You said and reached out a hand.

He snuffed it and stood. Trying to reclaim any dignity, he then uselessly brushed himself off before heading towards the door.

Tired, but amused, you followed him.

The door opened for him before he pulled it closed right behind in a casual move as he went on.

With it closed almost in your face, you gave a puff at his display before opening the door for yourself.

Beating you to the apartment, he took the first shower, which actually irritated you. It meant you were losing precious seconds of sleep and his prolonged soak ate into your time. When he emerged, you were twice as steamed as him. “What happened to my health!?”

He looked you over, lazily. “You’ll live.”

Your shoulders rose in irritation and you stormed past him to slam the bathroom door.

-

Saturday.

You knew it before you awoke.

You knew it in your sleep. 

It was your day off from your day job. 

You’d both slept in.

Exhausted from the farce, you groggily took notice of the space between you on the bed. It felt like miles as you stared at Donnie’s covered shell. Turned away from you, he was clearly still asleep. It stung all the more knowing how hard he had tried to get to you last night. Even if his actions were muddied, his motive was still the same.

He was worried about you.

The mentality that it’d be alright in the end felt more distant now as you closed the gap. Edging up to him, no matter how childish he had been, you felt bad because you were the root cause. Keeping the sheet down to protect the modesty of his carapace, you got as close as you could without pressing to him. Thinking of how it could both blow off the pent up steam and also affirm your bond, you raised up to press your lips to the bulb of his shoulder. Kissing your intent there, you traveled toward his neck as you felt him stir. Nuzzling comforting affections, you neared his clavicle when your vision blacked out.

Trying to blink it off, it came through cracks and you realized he was using the whole of his hand to catch your face. “Wha-?!”

“I think not.” He said simply and began to rise.

With you in his clutches, he forced you down by his grip alone as he sat up. He then released, but you could tell he was ready in case you tried something.

“Not interested.” His tone said it wasn’t a withdrawal of consent, but something else.

You frowned, still feeling a phantom pinch. “I don’t believe you.”

He shrugged. “It cannot be helped then.”

“So… what?” You watched as he got out of bed and strolled towards the kitchen. “No sex!?”

“Nope.” He popped the plosive.

“That’s your new game?” You crawled up to the end of the bed and parted the drapes. “No sex until I quit?”

He gave a languid nod as he grabbed some juice.

You openly scoffed. “Not only is that totally ridiculous; it hurts you too!”

He shrugged, moving forward to lean on the counter to await the rest of your complaints. “I’ve gone three decades without a single positive touch. What’s less than a month?”

You bristled. “No touch?”

“Oh, was that not obvious?” He righted and rounded the counter with the juice bottle in tow. “No sex, no hugs, no kisses…” He stopped just shy of you with a wicked grin tipping so high, it nearly met his eyes. “Nothing.”

“You’re going to hurt both of us, just because you’re upset I’m doing a little extra work to get a gift, for you.” You sharpened the words as they came out.

“What can I say? You inspired me.” His head hung to the side. “’Play your game.’ It should have been obvious”

“You can’t seriously be comparing the two?!”

Anger flared in him, but he refused to let it on his face. “What’s more childish? Denying affections to a partner for whom has asked in all manner of ways to keep them from hurting themselves or a person damaging their health in pursuit of a gift that their partner patently doesn’t want?”

You sat, lips parted.

“Exactly.” His lids lowered, knowing his point got through. “You have work tonight.”

It wasn’t a question, but it was.

It just wasn’t the one he asked. 

You stared at him and saw the lengths he was willing to go.

He was as stubborn as he was petty.

You narrowed your gaze.

One of his brows inched up.

He’d labeled you the same for a reason.

“I’m going.”

He turned his snout up.

“Our relationship is more than sex.”  

It tipped his head right back down where he gave a bitter bark of laughter.

You squirmed. “You don’t think so?”

You could tell he was resisting leaning into your space. “Oh, I know so.”

Your hands lifted to show your confusion.

“It may not be the basis, but we partake to an alarming degree.” He sneered with a sharp edge. “Comical coming from the one who recently wondered if we were becoming addicted.”

You inhaled sharply, a correction on your tongue.

“Only one of us has struggled with true addiction and withdrawals. An easy triumph.”

Your lip threatened to curl so you flattened it.

“Observe.” He tipped the juice container to you and you watched on with milk confusion. He then shook it which made little sense to you until he lifted it to his lips. It had been a show that it was almost empty and he planted his feet. In an exaggerated tip, he threw out his hips and tossed his head all the way back. It accentuated each gulp as he downed the liquid with a roll of his Adam's apple. A streak of juice broke free from the corner of his mouth and then rolled down said throat. You hadn’t realized your jaw had dropped until a breathy exhale came out. It leaked in almost the same way the bead of liquid threaded down to his plastron.

He resurfaced and caught the tail end of you squashing your stare.

“Right.” Swiping his tongue low and slow over his bottom lip, you felt the earlier idea for the morning stir in your lions. Before you could obliterate them, he flicked his tongue as a finishing move over his canine before attending to the juice bottle. Adding insult to injury, he crushed the thing flat as if it held no resistance.

You were slamming the door to the bathroom before you knew it.

It was on.

-

What you had hoped to be a comfortable afternoon felt like the oncoming location of war. Ripped to either side of the apartment in what felt like strategizing, silence signaled what was sure to be oncoming doom. Unable to compete with a genius’ forethought, you instead rested and prepared yourself for whatever he had to throw at you. Your only tactic seemed to be exhaustion, which you banked on staving off any real effect. Alright with that for now, you eventually went through the motions of dinner and preparations for leaving. Donnie, lost to whatever his research was, barely passed you a parting as you left for your night shift.

Coming home wasn’t near as abysmal, but you could tell your internal clock was spinning wildly out of control. It was only after a shower and collapsing into bed that you realized your partner was completely gone. Feeling particularly alone, you snuck his pillow under the blankets with you. There, you cradled it to your body and tried to focus on your goal.

It had to be worth it in the end.

Waking around 1pm, you groggily could smell something had been cooked. Blearily raising up, you saw the back of Donnie’s head as he sat casually on the couch. Chest steeled, you slipped out of bed with the intention of scoping the situation out, but within a few steps you decided that war paint would be necessary. It constituted nothing more than you brushing your teeth and washing your face, but it still allowed you to exit at the ready. Approaching slowly, Donnie was reading in his usual spot. Ready, but lowering your metaphorical gun, you glanced around to find the source of the smell.

“Chili spiced oysters, grilled asparagus and artichokes, and chocolate covered strawberries.” He said, turning the page.

You made a startled noise and wandered toward the kitchen. “That sounds fancy, what’s the occasion?”

He didn’t respond and you sighed entering the space. Feeling warmth, you found the oven was set low to keep the veggies ready. A quick peruse found the oysters on ice in the freezer and the strawberries similarly kept in the fridge. Making a plate, you leaned against the counter and tried to remember what about this meal struck you. Picking up a shell, you tested it with a swish before downing it. The commingling oil accentuated the fresh flavor that said his morning’s absence had been because he went to the fish market as it opened.

Softening a little at that, you moved to eat next to him on the couch. Enjoying the flavors of the spread, as unique as they were, you eventually moved on to genially pluck a strawberry. It took two tries to get a successful bite with everything but the stem, but their flavor was downright bursting. A little blown away, you went to thank your boyfriend, regardless of his attitude, only to catch him watching you. As soon as your eyes met, he raised a brow before turning his attention back to his book.

Immediately suspecting foul play, you stared over the plates. He’d once mentioned something about you only ingesting things you were aware of so there was no way he’d laced your food. Fearing how potent an aphrodisiac made by his hands would be, your eyes widened. Eyes shooting to the trash where you’d thrown your shells you scrambled back to the bedroom in a full run. Donnie’s soft laughter chased you which only solidified your decision to fumble your phone. Finally gathering and unlocking it with shaky hands, a quick search found he’d gone the all natural route.

Every single thing you’d consumed was said to be an aphrodisiac.

The thought shot straight to your toes and you threw your anger towards the offender.  “Donatello!”

No matter how tepid his hum was, it was clear he’d been waiting.

“What the fuck!?” You stormed over to him, phone outstretched in hand.

You’d have no recourse.

Everything was frustrating enough.

With low lids, he flicked his gaze at the article and back to you. “A fascinating coincidence.”

“Bullshit! You did this on purpose!” Jittery you pulled your device back to your body. Pressing it to your stomach, you considered how long you had.

He took his time marking his place and closing his book. “Me? Support pseudoscience? Hardly sounds right.”

“Pseudo or not!”

“True.” He tilted his head as if it were interesting. “The placebo effect.”

“Wha-?”

He rose up and above you. “The mind is quite powerful.”

You took a cautious step back.

He followed you in a slink.

Your back bumped the counter causing you to look over your shoulder at it.

The predator was in front of you.

In the fateful return, he was looming overhead and your stomach flipped. “How, even plied with dummy remedies, one can still feel as though they are reaping benefits.” 

You fisted your phone, trying not to let your hiked breathing become too obvious.

His brow cocked and said it was. “Take now.” He leaned down into your air space and you fought to ignore his hot breath near your cheek. “You simply ate a meal and yet, in a single moment, you came to think of yourself a soaking, needy mess because of it.”

“I’m not.” You breathed, desperate for air and clenching your legs just in case.

The slick sensation there said his tale was a truth he’d already scented.

“No?” He turned inward to you. “Then you're drenched from what exactly?”

You leaned away, thinking only of cleaning up in the bathroom.

He took a lengthy inhale. “It’s been just shy of a week since your last orgasm. Did you dream of me or are you simply that desperate?”

You shoved him away.

He allowed it, chuckling on his way back to the couch.

Miserable in the spot, you plodded toward the bathroom to wipe up your shame.

You wouldn’t be caught again.

“Watermelon arugula salad and a fig tart tonight!”

You didn’t need to look those up to know you’d be ordering out.

-

Surviving the night and the mild ire from Donnie when you wouldn’t touch what he had cooked, you slept through until Monday which had a regular work day and one more free night before you went through another three-day back-to-back gauntlet. That meant if you had a comeback, now was the time to execute. On your lunch break you researched, looking over your shared calendar. It indicated that Donnie would be harvesting crops today so dinner might be safe. It also noted that tomorrow he had an important enough meeting that he’d blocked out the space as opposed to lumping it into a work category.

Leaning back in your chair, you pondered over how to ration your time. You still needed to rest so there had to be a way you could schedule out ideas. You needed plans at the ready, but with Donnie a powerhouse of premeditation, there was no way to keep up. You had to play the game with your own flare. It was one of the things that attracted him to you in the first place. Snapping forward, you smiled over the calendar still up on your phone. You’d be relying mainly on luck, but that was something Donnie hated counting.

Riding high and hoping the universe had you in its favor, you made it through work and then home in a rush. Barely edging out the commute, you threw a thank you to whoever would hear that Donnie was still on the roof. Only half wondering if he thought you’d bring him a drink for toiling under the sun, you shot to the bathroom. Touching up errant oils with targeted blotting and messing up your hair in a more deliberate way, you began to peel off your clothes.

Your top draped with the slightest cling so you tossed your bra in favor of letting it outline what was underneath. Kicking your pants aside, you appraised in the mirror, snapping a few shots, before prancing out of the bathroom. Phone in hand, you traipsed around the apartment taking pictures. Ending with no clothes and hearing a telltale knob click from where you were sprawled out on the bed, you rolled right off and scampered off into the bathroom indelicately on all fours. There you threw on something comfortable and emerged to find Donnie a mess.

Taking him in, you approached more curious about the huge basket of vegetables he set on the counter. He had dirt smudged over his face and arms where he hadn’t opted for his usual wraps. Assuming he’d ditched them for heat and mobility, he was stripped down to a shrink wrapped tank, his sunhat, and a pair of sweats that had been relegated to yard work.

“Good haul?” You saw greenery peaking over the small bar.

“Yes.” Donnie nodded, a bit out of breath.

“Hot?” You tilted your head and wondered if he’d take such easy bait.

“Quite.” Ignoring you out of what you figured was dehydration, he turned and reached into the fridge for a glass of water.

Taking his distraction, you snuck closer to examine the basket. “Want me to cook tonight?”

“You can.” He offered, coming away from the ice box with some reluctance.

“You’ve done your share. I’ll wash and store.”

He only nodded and moved out of the way.

Freeing up the sink, you found him off to the side with the glass bottle pressed to his head. “Want a towel?”

“Why?” He lowered the drink to pop the top.

“You got a little something…” You pointed at your cheek.

“Ah.” Setting the bottle down on the counter, he pulled off his hat in a fluid motion. You stared on, moving vegetables and watched as he leaned forward to catch the hem of his tank top. He then yanked the fabric up with an arch of his back to use it to smother his face. Eyeing his plastron and slim waist as if he’d put abs on display, your lips parted and closed. The sound must have snagged his tympanum because he lowered a fist of black cloth to peer at you with a knowing eye. “Something the matter?”

“No!” You turned away, flicking on the tap.

“Hot is a double entendre.” You could sense him sliding over.

“Eh, yard work doesn’t really do it for me.” Setting a cleaned stalk into an awaiting colander, you felt him comb you for how honest that statement was.

“I see.” He decided eventually.

His tone said he’d dropped it so you offered him a glance while grabbing the next head.

He stared openly. “Might I ask why?”

“Maybe from a distance.” Cool water ran over your fingers as you parted leaves. “But up close? So sweaty.” You stuck your tongue out as you added the next veggie to the done pile.

He made a noise on how he found that interesting and got even closer.

You could feel the latent heat wafting off him. “Please? I just changed and don’t want to again.”

“I have no interest in dirtying you.” He reached out and stabilized himself with one long arm to the counter.

Turned away, you gave the air an eye roll for his innuendo. “Go shower then.”

“Soon.”

You returned to the sink to find that arm he’d plastered now right beside your head. Looking it over with disinterest, you traced it back to the owner in a turn. “Your new ploy isn’t working how you’d hoped.”

“Texture or scent?”

“What?” You turned off the tap and folded your arms to give whatever this was attention so he’d move on.

“The sweat. Which bothers you more?”

“I don’t know about bothers.” You gave it genuine thought. “It’s like if you’re dry and someone sweaty touches you. That stickiness is gross.”

He nodded, his face one that said little.

“As for smell? Some really funky BO competes with those wafts from the sewers. Again, that’s probably universal.”

“There are many factors.”

“Here comes the science.” You teased, going for the tap so he could infodump freely.

His hand shoved and his arm curled to block you.

“Don.” You sent him your genuine boredom.

“Hormones, food, bacteria, even medication.” He had a look that said he knew and begged your time.

You leaned back against the sink. “Deodorant, sure. You feel gross, don’t you? Why are you prolonging this?”

“You like my scent.”

“Sure, that’s science too, right? Pheromones and what not, latent smelling of potential partners.”

He flicked his gaze to his arm and back to you.

You did the same, not gleaning much. Returning to him, you waited until the lack of clarity brought your brow down. His raised incrementally in time and you broke the silence to guess. “You want me to smell you?”

He tipped his head towards his limb as if it were an offering.

You made a face. “Ew, why? You’re clearly sweaty, which if you must know, I wondered if you could get. So question already answered, check.”

Leaning his head over, he let his cheek land on his bicep to keep watch.

“That bad?”

“Humor me.”

You held eye contact to search.

He appeared as an open book.

Unshielded with a tint of curiosity and a call he wished you’d pick up on.

“Fine, but I caveat?”

“Go ahead.”

“If you like smash my face into your sweaty body, I get a free punch.”

“Nothing of the sort. I said I wasn’t going to muss you.”

“Agreed then.”

“Agreed.”

Pouting, you gave an exhale to clear your lungs before leaning up to his arm. Ending up around his elbow, your nose hovered over the warmth of his skin before you took a slow, metered inhale.

Like tasting notes, it came in waves.

His natural musk sat at the forefront and was pleasant.

Then came earthen soil as a lush base.

Next were clippings where oils had inadvertently brushed him giving a distinct grassy finish.

All of it rounded back to his natural scent though this time you felt your salivary glands kick into gear.

Instantly confused by the sensation, you leaned back while licking your lips to swallow down the excess.

“In hand with hyperosmia, turtles have specialized glands.” 

“To pick out females and what not?” You looked up at him, genuinely curious though a pounding in your chest made for a faint distraction.

“Chemical communication.” He slid his hand further, putting his arm closer to you.

Not to be backed into another corner, you stood firm as that cocktail wafted up only a couple of inches from your face.

“Unique but not ubiquitous to amphibians and reptiles are mental glands.”

The name seemed obvious enough.

“Usually found near the mandible.” He pointed to his jaw.

Reviewing his arm, that isn’t where you’d smelled. “Not on you though.”

“For most of my life, I hadn’t given it much thought as my brain tunes out my own scent. Realization came about when I encountered the others.” He edged his chest closer.

You glanced over his plastron with little attention as you wondered where he was going.

“’Fear stink.’ They have appalling naming sense.”

“How you can smell fear?”

“Different.” The whole of him was so close that you were being engulfed by the outdoorsy musk. “Theirs and mine.”

“You can…” You tried to piece together what he’d offered. “Read each other’s scents, like your own language?”

You watched Donnie try not to roll his eyes. “If we were inclined, I suppose.”

“Not that then.” You gave a little giggle.

He shook his head. “How do you feel?”

“Fine?”

He gave a hum and you saw a sliver of disappointment as he reigned his arm in. Almost wanting to ask why, you watched as he slid his hand over his snout and up under his mask. Continuing through the motion he pushed the fabric back to where his hairline would be and closed his eyes.

Still closed in by him, it opened up his armpit. Edging away as chances were unsightly labor induced smells now released there, you were instead assaulted by a different scent. Body aching, it trickled through your nose hairs as if diffusing directly into your bloodstream. There, it sped through your veins, heating your skin up and dulling your neurons. Nearly drunk on it and close to drooling, you wobbled slightly as you threw dizzied confusion up to him.

He stood in the same position, elbow out and hand to his head, smirking down at you lethally.

“Wha-what… is?”

“Mental glands.” He reminded, scrubbing back to push his mask off.

“I d-don’t…?” Your skin felt inflamed and you had to grab the counter for a weakness in your knees.

“It was safe to assume that I had control over the scent.”

“You trained…?” Feeling fuzzy you brought a hand up to both block the smell and wipe your wet lips. “Controlled your smell?”

“Only today.” He grinned, wickedly. “Again, inspired by you. I pushed my sweat glands to the absolute limit with only one thing on my mind. I’d almost written it off, a failed experiment.”

You searched his face, covering your nose and breathing in your own breath. It helped a little, but you now felt how the heat had settled. Molten core in your lower abdomen, you pressed a hip to the counter for even more stability.

A pheromone.

In a single day he’d trained to express something potent for your nose.

If it was just you?

You had many questions, but one took forefront.

“What… one thing?”

“You.” His arm dropped like a bar to your side and, in a single step, he trapped you. His face leaned in lethally as he craned down with carnal intent. “I thought of fucking you. I thought of you sopping wet just for me. I thought of how you scream my name. Of feeling you. Being inside you. Finally, finally impregnating you.”

One of your hands fumbled back for something and you heard the wayward clatter of vegetables falling from their basket and all around.

You couldn’t pull your eyes away.

They were caught in the inferno that was his gaze.

You could almost see straight into his head and all the scenes he’d mentioned.

You weren’t even mad.

He’d gotten you, but it didn’t feel like it.

You wanted nothing more than to demand he take you right there on the counter.

You had a feeling he might do it.

Break the agreement for this because of what he’d done.

Toiling hours in the sun, running replays on your sex life all to tempt you.

Delirious with need at his moronic lengths, you stepped in as close as your bodies would allow.

It meant centimeters shy of actual touch.

There you inhaled deeply, taking a cue from him in a long swing of your neck to drink in that scent.

A perfume for you.

Then he was gone.

You stared at the space, his musk swarming and the slam of the bathroom door knocked you only enough out of the stupor to blink.

Taking another deep breath of the tapering scent, your knees gave out. With the counter close, you used it to sink down slowly.

The shower turned on and you could only picture him pathetically jacking off against ice cold, unforgiving tiles to assuage the damage he’d done.

-

11am Tuesday morning caught you swiveling at your desk. It had been business as usual after the pheromone incident and what you’d normally consider a nice evening. Though a little early, you were flipping through photos of yourself as you waited for 5 after. Then it would finally be time for your revenge.

Rocking left and right to triple check the payload loads release schedule, you saw the counter on your computer tick over. Double checking the calendar to see that indeed his meeting had indeed started, you swiped over to your gallery. There you picked the first photo of the set and sent it off.

A tasteful start, it had you in your slinky work top from a high angle. It poured down your half-cocked amused face in the top right, chasing your body down to the opposite left. As it had in your tests, the clear chiseling of your not even erect nipple was clearly etched into the fabric.

You didn’t expect a response to this one.

It was tame.

He might not even check it.

You did, however, remember something he may have forgotten:

Your messages were pushed through.

The Darling Protocol was engineered for his downfall.

He didn’t even know it. 

Another thing you were proud of was your composition. Outside of being alluring, your body took up most of the frame so there’d be no way he’d know it wasn’t taken from your office. He’d think you were scantily clad without underthings at work. You clucked as you spun around in your chair. Humming to yourself and, with only a quick check to your cubicle door, you checked the time.

11:07 time for the next one.

For number two, you pulled back. Perching yourself on top of the counter, you had done quite a bit of maneuvering to get both your legs up there. Legs doing work masking your apartment’s unmistakable sink, you had begun unbuttoning your top. What it revealed was the stark nature of your shoulder and the part of one breast which you blocked with an arm curled inward, tucked into your thighs. The other shoulder strap held on for dear life and with a tempting arch of your body, the phone covered your eyes as you used the mirror to take the photo. A transition to mark your lack of pants, a chill tickled your back like a phantom as you sent the photo off.

Your smile was the real star in this one. 

You were proud of the coy thing you’d plastered on your lips.

Swiveling side to side with your feet tucked under the wheels of your chair, you were going to let this one stew.

If you hid the details in the way you’d hoped, then he’d really come to believe this was just taken.

It’d mean you were out of an apparent stall and in the open.

He’d hate that.

You watched in real time as the timestamp was replaced with one that recognized the message as seen.

Within milliseconds percolating bubbles then chased it.

Zero to boiling in less than a second.

Now that was science.

DON’t: Muting.

Yeah, right.

You: Guess I’ll have to take care of myself.

DON’t: Do you think you’ve found some loophole?

You: To what?

DON’t: Phone sex doesn’t require touch.

You: I don’t know. I seem to be touching myself just fine.

The pot stewed.

Tipping forward to pour over your desk, you wondered just how important that meeting of his was.

DON’t: You’ve barricaded the door, I hope?

You snorted.

Not very.

You: Where’s the fun in that?

DON’t: Y/N!

You: We’ve chanced worse.

DON’t: With the safety net of my senses.

You: Yeah, I’ve had my fill of those.

DON’t: Pushing it.

You: I’ll leave you be then.

The reply came quicker than you thought.

DON’t: What do you need?

“Too easy!” You nearly dropped your phone to cover your mouth.

Shrinking down and only barely keeping from ducking under your desk, you waited out to see if anyone would acknowledge your outburst. Finding none, you pulled your phone back to see three missed messages.

DON’t: Y/N?

DON’t: Or

DON’t: Was this your plan?

Another came as you read.

DON’t: A ripple at best.

The last of what you considered the ‘at work’ set, you shot off a classic mirror pose that showed the length of your nude torso along with a ‘v’ for victory highlighting your mating mark.

DON’t: When this is over I will smother you.

DON’t: Coat you.

DON’t: Then take photographs.

DON’t: Real ones. 

You were already planning it, but the dig at the end pushed your thumbs.

You: What are you? Gravy?

You: Seriously, your game is weak and forever immortalized.

You: So bad it literally…

You pulled the camera back and took a selfie sticking your tongue out and making it very obvious you were in a different outfit and in your cubicle.

Sending it off as his response boiled, you rushed yours. 

You: …put my clothes back on!

You: I cannot believe I tricked you that easily

You: I thought you were going to be this big bad brick wall that wouldn’t fall for nothing!

You: Huff and puff all you want! 

You: Little pig got you, wolfie!

Watching his response bubble and pop over and over, you chewed your lip to keep from laughing. You could envision him hunched over his desk, tacking out response after response, without a single one able to save his dignity.

Allowing a small bob to your chest, you checked the time.

11:18.

Two more minutes until the next text and, though things hadn’t gone how you thought, this turn had been so much better.

His typing ended and you smirked at how he’d chosen to childishly ignore you.

He was probably humiliated.

You sort of liked that.

Flicking your eyes back and forth between the text screen and the time, you waited for 11:20 before adding to the chain.

You: Took those yesterday.

You: Which you may be thinking

You: That’s obvious

You: Which yeah, you should have known

You: I mean that quite literally

You: You must have accidentally covered it up with your sex stink

You: You know

You: Because you were laying right on this last night

Attaching what was now technically the fifth image, you hadn’t bothered to get your face in. Instead the image slid down your bare ribs to your underwear which had been left on from the previous shot. On your knees the important bit was being straddled amongst kicked up sheets. His pillow, which you were just shy of rubbing your crotch on, sat obviously between your legs.

Catching the tail end of the message successfully making it through the data streams, you smirked when it clicked as seen. You imagined he was probably up a bit, cycling through the messages until he stopped dead. It was there, without a response, that you sat with a budding excitement.

Would he leave the meeting?

Go inspect the pillow to see if this was another diversion?

Would he bury his face into it and try to get a lick of your musk?

Chewing on the possibilities, you sent the next image as a quick succession. It had you rolled over onto your back where you’d almost managed to get your full body in frame. Rotated with your hips up but your torso turned, you had your arm slung around his pillow bringing it in close. With parted lips, your head was tilted so you were staring straight into the lens while almost kissing the down. Amongst the sheets you’d basically torn up, you looked the picture of ready.

A single bubble appeared and burst as if he’d slipped onto the keyboard.

Lowering your screen, you craned your neck to look both ways out of your cubicle.

Either no one had passed or you hadn’t noticed.

Still good on time, you did a final scan before spinning away from the door. With the back of your chair as a shield, you prepared for the final two. The most risqué yet, the last was then one you were ultimately betting on. A good hand was nothing without its final card and checking the time on your phone for 11:23, you sent out a shorter preamble.

You: Or did you think I stopped there?

Seen.

You: Are you wondering where else?

You: Sniffing around to figure it out?

You: What else I ruined?

Read. Read. Read.

You: How about right where you’re sitting?

The words were an unplanned gambit, but you sent the penultimate image. Having set up a timer and taken a few tries, you got an image with you sitting in his computer chair. Rotated to face the phone with your legs crossed and your head tossed back, you looked the picture of a Fortune 500 mogul. It had the kind of power that if this exact image was leaked, it would only raise the price of stocks in your company. Blocking only what was to be revealed in the next image, each of your arms lay against the same of his chair, waiting.

DON’t: When?

On screen it held no wait, but you could feel his urgency.

Had he gotten up?

Was he huffing the fabric?

He would be soon.

Ignoring his message, you did a final review of the last image. In it, you’d brought your legs up in the chair and parted them. Fingers slid down your body and into your exposed sex, you’d accidentally caught yourself licking your lips in this particular shot. It had inadvertently made it all the more tantalizing and you waited out 11:28 before sending it.

With that, you put your phone away and went back to work after a quick trip to the restroom. Somehow buoyed even though you hadn’t gotten a response, you got quite a bit done before you’d be presumably useless again tomorrow. You acquired an earworm from someone's ringtone and hummed the tone all the way through your commute home. Walking into the apartment on sunshine, you took in Donnie behind the fridge door and a very glaring piece of furniture now absent. He spied your joy with a look of pure outrage, which you brushed past to ask.

“Hey, what happened to your chair?”

-

Work.

Your night shift boss griped at you for fussing over using someone else’s keycard.

Home.

Sleep.

Work.

You barely caught an error in a client proposal right before it was supposed to go out.

Home.

Work.

There was a hot debate over whether paper or a shammy were better for cleaning windows. 

Home.

Sleep.

Work.

You had three meetings today, but one canceled last minute.

Home.

Pushing past the door, you only had one more night shift left before a reprieve. Tomorrow you’d have your regular day shift and then crash for the most sleepy Friday night in existence. Until then, you just needed to stay conscious enough to force some food down and prepare for another night of scrubbing. Though it had been just under 2 weeks, you still couldn’t make sense of the mess in the building. You only saw it under a darkened sky so its emptiness felt eternal. Why then did the floor get so dirty? Who filled the waste baskets with discarded wrappers and notes? Why were there always water spots on the bathroom counters?

Unable to put faces to these miscreant slobs, you slung your bag and missed the shelf you were supposed to set it on. Staring at it as it laid limp on the floor, you felt like it was a match for your form. Slouched and soggy without moisture, you turned out to find the living room quiet. As you predicted, your partner hadn’t tried to mess with you during the most intense parts of your week and for good reason. You already could barely eat; even the thought of sex sounded exhausting. With another shift coming tonight, you just wanted to wear your own chosen clothes for a change and sit, unmovable, until you were forced to.

Rounding the partition into the bedroom, you found the bathroom door closed. You usually hoped to wash a little of the day’s grime before changing, but in reality the order no longer mattered. Dragging feet over to where your lounge clothes sat ready for you on your bed, you threw something over your shoulder, “I’m home.”

It wasn’t loud, but any noise would be enough for his tympanum.

Just as you got a shirt into your hands, you heard the bathroom door click.

It would take precious energy to divert now, but a clean face nearly sounded worth it.

“Almost done.” Donnie spoke.

There was a thick note to his tone that felt like it caressed your ears.

You hadn’t talked much lately.

You missed his voice.

Turning to relay this, you froze on contact with the sight.

Leaned with his back against the door jamb, Donnie was slowly pumping a fist over his erect cock.

No longer collapsed like a bag, someone had scooped up your strap and held you at wound to attention.

“You can use it.” He gave a parting nod before he pushed off the wall. Lazily, almost with a yawn, he continued to stroke himself as he headed over to the bed. Gone was the usual waddle he did around his hard member as his smooth strides took him around the perimeter. Worse than him making it an obvious display, he instead seemed to not care for your existence at all as he paused, clenching his knot, to plop down on his side of the bed. There he laid back, craned a free arm under his neck and sped up, comfortable.

In the quiet as you gawked, you could hear the squishing sounds from lubrication. With them chasing your heels, you turned and made the slow trek to the bathroom with the noise ringing in your ears. Closing the door behind you, they were audibly gone, but their sound continued to chime like a bell. Turning the tap for white noise, you pulled your hand back and caught a glimpse of the bottle of lube left behind. Its location on the edge of the counter said he’d been sitting on the toilet as he stroked himself. In some world it made sense, the load could be easily flushed, but the teenage mentality of it all struck you.

The shame of puberty haunted you like a ghost as you finally splashed ice cold water on your face. It was like a shock and you hadn’t remembered moving into the position that got you there. Trying to wake yourself up from the dream, you scrubbed hard with soap, but didn’t give into the luxury of temperature. Trying to ice the sore, each blink brought the image of his pulsing cock.

You’d never seen him masturbate.

Assaulted by the knowledge, you finished and stared blankly at the door. Straining, you listened for those lewd noises. Hearing nothing, but feeling the rigid wood of the barrier, you grabbed the knob a little too fast. Flinging the door open with a sudden burst, you caught your partner in the throes. Knees bent as he chased his pleasure, his lips parted and his eyes closed. Strain sat in his brow as his fist moved up and down in practiced rhythm. Not quite a blur, streak lines followed green skin as it engulfed and revealed pinks and purples. Hand pushing all the way up against his spread, he curled the skin into a cup upon each upward stroke and let it bounce freely as it fell.

Though he wasn’t looking at you, you felt very seen.

Your clothes were still laid out beside him.

It meant you had to creep closer.

A peeping tom, each step felt like a journey as you watched your partner pleasure himself. The sounds returned and wrapped around your throat to whisper directly into your ears. Slick with smooth glides, his work continued until he could no longer lounge. Pumping against some unseen upper limits, his free arm came down from his head as his torso raised. Core tight, his eyes cracked open as if he needed to make sure the job was being done right. A foreman of his own design, you neared the halfway point to the bed when he caught your presence.

Turning to you without hurry or care, you watched as his lowered lids bounced as he fucked himself. Streams of pre mixed in with the lube and gave a milky opacity to the squelch. Hips now rocking to meet his appendage, he tracked you up the bed. Torn between watching that lurid look of approaching ecstasy and the main stage show of his fat cock, you reached with timid fingers to get your clothes.

Would you change in front of him?

Unsure, but still in motion, quaking fingers reached for cloth.

It was only then that he broke eye contact. Thinking he might give you modesty, you instead saw that they flew to your hand. His lips closed and opened with some unsaid need. Slapped with the thought that he might be imagining your hand instead of his, he gave into a single buck that bobbed his vision. The way he forced it back open said your hypothesis was right and as soon as you twisted it into the cotton of your shirt, he gave a stunted breath. Lids closing and a twitch starting in the corner of his mouth, he bit down on his lower lip as he came.

Gaze flying southward, you stared as he encompassed his glans as best he could. Cum flowed on in obvious ribbons that exuded out between three digits. With an ooze, he handled the spray and what leaked out was slow and of a thick viscosity that you could only think was due to having been pent up. Impossible in such a short time, the tacky quality meant it only slid so far. That’s what you usually took. That spunk clung to your insides. That seed was supposed to leak from you.

Mechanical, your neck rocked as you had to lower your entire head to pull your gaze away. Falling to your clothes, you picked them up as if you had to get as much of them in your hands as possible or else they wouldn’t make the journey. Trying not to let them spill, you turned and heard a breathy voice chase you.

“Can you toss me a tissue box?”

You didn’t respond and locked yourself in the bathroom.

-

All night.

As you scrubbed floors and wiped window sills.

All morning.

On the dreary bus ride home.

Into the apartment.

Where Donnie lay more peacefully asleep then you’d seen him. 

In the shower.  

You turned the water up to a ridiculous degree.

To bed.

Lying, eyes open, until the alarm seems to shove a crow bar into them.

To the kitchen.

As your partner stirred for his own day.

To the couch.

Eating something that had been pre-prepared for you.

To the bathroom.

Where you stood and looked in the mirror.

His cock.

You couldn’t see anything else.

It haunted you playing in a never ending loop. You could sense where he’d been, when you’d caught him a few feet away, jacking it in the doorframe next to you. On the bed, sheets bundled around his hips where he pushed himself into his fist. Pearls of cum, leaking in a release he tried to capture.

Over and over.

Grabbing the sink, you wanted to scream.

You weren’t horny.

You were exhausted.

With every blink you could see his manhood.

Each vein pulsed.

The stretch of his skin.

The bounce of his glans.

The flexing of his knuckles.

Jade skin.

White cum.

You dropped the lid of the toilet and scrambled to catch it before it clattered. Barely saving it and waiting to see if you’d been found out. You couldn’t hear anything and tore off your clothes. It wasn’t until you dropped down, nude, onto the lid that you realized how cold it would be. Wincing and senses flared all the more for it, you pulled your feet up alongside your ass and spread. An awkward position without near enough room, you grunted as both your hands dropped to your sex. One push released the built up slick and you nearly sobbed as you stroked yourself.

The photos had been a sham.

Posing with the sense of action.

He’d actually done it.

You hadn’t.

There’d been no time.

Unceremoniously starting with two fingers, you shoved them in hoping for an outright moan. 

It didn’t come. 

They slid too easily. 

It wasn’t enough.

Adding a third, you moved wrong and a wet squish seemed to reverberate off the walls. Ignoring the percussion, you pushed deeper. Weakness in your wrist from overwork kept you from the necessary speed. That ever present phantom fisting of his ran on its usual relay and you tried to time your stroke with his. Not fast enough, not full enough, not deep enough, you wanted to cry. 

Did you want to get off or did you just want him?

One leg sliding right off the toilet, you sat a broken doll at the thought. Your foot hit the tub and the shake seemed to pale in comparison to the flash bang in your mind. A mental tinnitus drowned it out as you leaned against the tank. Pulling your fingers out bitterly, you stared at your own slick and parted digits just to see it string.

A knock.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” You turned your hand over and felt the cool air tinge the moisture.

“Are you… alright?”

Could he smell it through the door?

No.

“Why?” You pushed to stand and only stumbled a little.

You could hear his hesitation as you stepped over to the sink. “It sounded like you fell.”

“Just bumped the tub.” You turned the tap.

The soundless noise of him lingering continued as you wet your toothbrush and got paste. Minty foam taking root in your gums, you scrubbed and saw the wreck of yourself in the mirror. Dark eyes and puffy tear trough, your skin had a ruddy quality from lack of nutrition and general care. Dropping your gaze to the swirl of water going down the drain, you felt Donnie’s loitering weigh as if he were scratching at the wood.

The door was thrown open and you stepped out, toothbrush hanging out the side of your mouth. “Wha’?!”

Already having stumbled back from your sudden movement, you watched his eyes triple in size at your state.

Having nearly forgotten you had to look down.

Nude with desire smeared between your thighs and minty foam around your lips, you felt rabid as you brought your gaze back to his face.

“You were…” He hitched, the mix of scents presumably leaking out of the bathroom.

“So?” You yanked the tooth brush out and weren’t proud of the spittle that came with. “You did! Can’t I!?”

He didn’t respond so you stepped back into the bathroom and slammed the door.

-

Work brought you home, where Donnie had your favorite dinner ready. He seemed apologetic which pained you as pity. Logically, you knew it wasn’t, but you couldn’t shake the feeling. The food was delicious, but you scarcely thanked him as you showered and crashed. Sleeping nearly 17 straight hours, you awoke at almost exactly noon on Saturday. Not feeling refreshed or much of anything, you kept to yourself until your night shift.

Things moved around you as you cleaned, easily losing yourself to the task. The bus jostled you on the way home as if making sure your waking slumber was a real one. You slept through most of Sunday until, in a blink, you were in that cotton uniform again. The building you cleaned became purgatory. You’d go there, slipping through the crack of reality for the passing of time.

The game of not touching one another kept on, but the acidity from it had been tempered. A sorry version of its former self, you vaguely recalled something about Donnie with morning wood. Unreliable memories as the culprit, it had occurred during an obscene four night double shift. Whatever had happened before, you faintly remembered him growling awake and storming away with a waddle into the bathroom. Time lost again after, but you didn’t smell the telltale scent of jizz when you’d taken your turn next.

Your rebuttal, another happenstance, occurred when you’d forgotten to throw any clothes on after showering. You’d simply buried yourself in a towel, atop dry sheets in what must have been an afternoon. You had awoken, a naked sprawl where fitful dreams had caused you to kick the towel away. Hair dried wrong and laid out on the bed. Donnie had returned from wherever he’d gone and stared with a package under his arm at the sight of you through the sheer draping of the canopy.

You’d simply sat up, gave him a passing glance and fumbled to get a shirt on. He’d departed with little fuss to his desk and the sigh you’d given was what you remembered most. Loud and dramatic, you hadn’t meant to communicate anything. You only felt alone and stuffing that deafening expanse into something audible felt as though it would dispel it.

It didn’t.

The last week wrung out like a towel.

Time dripped from it in a rush while moments were trapped and in need of another twist.

Those lingered in passing glances of your partner of whom you felt you barely knew. He was a roommate that took care of things. You no longer looked at your shared calendar as his moving didn’t matter. Your schedule accounted for everything you had and what was left was piss poor maintenance of sanity. The only planned outings that occurred had something to do with cake. You were ushered into shops that were overly frosted and making up for something. Gilded trays served little morsel went uneaten. You went from location to location like a numb little bug gathering bits of food that in no way would help considering the size of the colony.

At the same time, you were hyper aware of Donnie’s existence.

The moments you held close and refused to let run were the ones of precious calm, occupying the same space. Occurring exclusively on the couch or bed, you were so keen that you felt that you could give an accurate measurement of the space between you, down to the millimeter, without a tool. You knew exactly how much oxygen inflated his lungs and you could tell each time his cells were renewed. The discrepancy between how little you cared about his conscious existence and how much you knew of his physical one strung like a burn. It had passed the stage of concern and wasn’t an open wound, yet still it begged for attention with throbs of red skin.

Moving around each other like two oppositely charged magnets, the electricity was palpable. You knew him best when you weren’t looking and you imagined his form in sonar blips. He was a green shape whose outlines were marked by waves and his exact quantities were taken to be sent back to home base. He was a threat signed away by a peace treaty, but both approving parties kept their watch towers just in case. Looking for the slightest slip up, there was none as a cold war waged on your very soul.

It was a cloudy evening, when you returned that penultimate night. Apropos of nothing, you still had some terms with the sun. You’d spend lunch outdoors when possible to soak up what you could in an abysmal attempt at some circadian chemtrails. They had done nothing and you were vaguely aware that readjusting your schedule would be another bout of misery as you arrived at the apartment. Entering, dinner smelled good and there was the snap second of awareness from whenever you were near one another.

For the first time, you seemed to notice he felt the same, but it wasn’t necessarily a revelation. Dropping things on the way to the couch, your listless form was fed and eventually you were off to work. Your boss had some kind of pride and had slapped your shoulder multiple times, but no matter how hard you looked at her, she only seemed like an apparition. She’d be gone when you’d turn to address her and the bus ride home was amongst a sea of haunts.

Did people get on?

Did they ever get off?

Did you?

The apartment door opened at the same time as the bus door did and you stepped both onto the street and into your home.

It was dark, both because of the clouds and the hour as you went to shower. You had office work in only a few hours and you hadn’t washed the shampoo out of your hair as much as you could have. Laying in bed, you turned over out of necessity and with a flick measured 533.4mm between you and Donnie’s shell. The sheet was pulled over his shoulder and he too was another shadow that would presumably disappear the moment you opened your eyes.

They’d have to close first and with a heave, they did.

They also opened.

There was no sound, so it wasn’t the alarm.

Had it been seconds?

Had it been minutes?

Movement caught your eyes.

Across from you, slow and carefully, Donnie was half turned and adjusting his blanket.

Before you’d hit deep sleep, he’d awoken you with jostling.

It seemed odd considering how tired you were.

Why care?

For no apparent reason, he then froze.

Staring at him as he was in front of you, you watched as he rotated his head to see you.

There was something about his gaze.

Heavy.

Smooth.

When he looked away, it was with immense sadness.

For the first time in over a week you felt your heart thud in your chest.

With his covered shell still towards you and a hand bent over holding his shoulder, his two fingers slid into the sheet. Curling them inward to catch it, he then turned his head away as he pulled the covers down. Gaze dropped into the bed as he unfurled himself, you watched as a honey amber glow appeared.

Looking up and bypassing him for the window, the sun had risen and was entering through the window. Squinting as the black out curtains should have been drawn, you could instead see the unusual sight of the building across from yours through the sheer inner layer. Blinking away what must have been a dream back to your partner, golden hues caught the texture of his carapace. Shaking the glance off viscerally, you brought a question up to the back of his head. Instead of responding, he pushed a little more onto his plastron in what was the opposite of a belly up maneuver.

He was showing you his carapace.

Suddenly very awake, you rose up incrementally. “Don…nie…?”

He gave a single nod.

“Are you sure…? You don’t have to… I mean… Why…?”

Flat on his front, he then turned his head 180 to view you.

His gaze held a thousand pounds.

Worry.

Anguish.

Pain.

Apology.

Loneliness.

Each one hit you and reanimated your corpse.

You felt them all to an aggravating degree.

It brought you to him. Closing the space without moving, you were beside him and your knees brushed his hip. He turned his head back into the pillow and the sun rose just a bit higher, throwing shadows differently. Reaching out, more nervous than you’d ever been handling him, you brushed a single fingertip to his softshell.

Unlike its name, it had a leathery quality and was not smooth. Instead, there was a pebbled perimeter that felt one activated gene away from spikes. Sliding your digit out into the expanse, it immediately dropped into a hovel and you had to pull back your focus to see his shell as a whole. Across the width of it sat three angry horizontal scars.  Tears running deep, it created crevices where the darkened green color had never returned. A hateful muddy pink instead, there was then another, not as deep scar that ran the exact opposite direction. Tracing it with a weighted finger, it ran along what must have been his spine.

“I had spines.”

You didn’t look at him and instead followed the same line back down.

“They were pruned.”

It was such a specific word choice. 

Stopping only because his waistband hid the bottom, you looked up his shell with a new perspective. The light was throwing shadows in a way that allowed you to tell directionality. From this angle, you could see that something had been taken from the base of his shell and then run straight up, pruning whatever spines he referenced. “A sword.”

Donnie nodded into his pillow.

Suddenly in need, you moved to straddle his lower half. He turned his head to watch out of the corner of his eye. You hovered, quaking digits, before you placed two hands onto the expanse of his shell. Checking in with him, his expression hadn’t changed and instead seemed to be one of composure. Now with further purpose, you refocused and spread out to map. With each rough dip and curve, you found all manner of cuts. Carved in a thousand senses, there was barely more than an inch at a time that remained without damage. Along with the huge obvious four, you also located two perfectly circular ones near each top edge.

“Punctured.”

Caressing the craters, the angriest blotch of them all sat not as obvious in the dead center of his carapace. Long scarred, it didn’t have the surface level rip and tear. Instead it had a marked entry point where the blade had then been turned for what had to be the deepest perforation. Instead of touching that one, you covered it and applied pressure with your palm. “This is where he tried to paralyze you.”

“Yes.” Donnie sounded both very present and equally far away.

Spreading your digits, you swiped palms outward before dropping down. You pressed the length of yourself to what was available and the rest you covered with your arms. The only part untouched was right at your face and there you pressed a kiss into that egregious wound.

A faint little rumble rolled like there was a storm outside though sunlight continued to pour in.

When you rose up, you watched little plops of tears land on the gnarled surface.

He was moving and you got off of him. He caught you with his own streaked cheeks and pulled you in. The power of magnetism gave out and reversed. Clinging to him as if you had no choice, you rooted as close as you could. Little strips of angry sky skipped around you as you weaseled your face up against his throat. The contact whetted your parched soul and you suddenly felt faulty of bursting from the overflow. Not a drought, but a dam broke and the two of you palmed each other as if each touch could repair the damage. Finally able to wrap your arms around his middle, you shamelessly groped his carapace which wrangled a chuckle out of him.

You looked up at his blurry smile and leaned in.

Meeting in messy vision, the kiss you shared was soft but held a sweetness unlike any other.

The distraction shattered because of it and you went limp as your body reminded you it had been put through the ringer. Happy in spite of it, you reluctantly released his shell to caress his cheeks and commit them to memory.

“It was never the scars.” He explained with a voice quiet and loving.

You looked into his eyes to translate your curiosity.

“It’s my most vulnerable part.”

Kissing him as a gratitude for sharing, you had to shake your head.

“No?” He stole another press of lips and waited for your answer.

“Your heart.” You whispered against him, drinking him in.

Lips moving in tandem, you weren’t sure if they tapered off or you simply succumbed during. The alarm woke you where you were still safely cuddled into his body and, though you weren’t even close to any sort of rest, peace made getting out of bed easy. His arms trailed you as you slipped free of them and you heard his groggy voice gravel something out.

“Day 30.”

“The last day.” You cooed back and tucked him in before going to prepare for it.

-

Your office job was work.

Your apartment was home.

Your cleaning job was work.

Returning home, you felt oddly buoyant as the door unlocked for you. Thanking S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. in your mind for always being on standby, you found Donnie waiting in a lean against the sofa. At the sight of you, he straightened up and you couldn’t help but go over to him. He caught you as you got close and pulled you flush to him with a squeeze. “You're done.”

You nodded.

“Please say it.” His voice muffled into your hair.

“I’m done.” With some resistance, you got away enough to look up at him.

He kissed you and you had to break it with a pressure to his chest. “I know your party is in a few days, but I need to give you your present now.”

He had to maintain some contact and settled for your elbows. “You have it?”

“I told you it wasn’t about the money.” You gave a tired smile and semi-patient stare as you needed to step away.

He pouted momentarily before letting you go.

Stepping over to your bag, you slipped out the little box you had purchased to go with it. “Did you ever figure out where I was going?”

“No.” There was a deep disdain to his tone.

You gave a puff of laughter as you returned to him.

As excited as a puppy, he latched back onto you before he even noticed the gift.

“It was an office building.”

He gave a slow nod, readying himself for information.

“Cleaning, but I told you that much.”

“I hate the way the solution clings to your hands.”

“I wore gloves…” You looked up at him with surprise.

He shrugged as it was simply a fact.

You shook it away. “Weird, whatever, but the building doesn’t matter as much as its tenants do. One of a bunch of skyscrapers, certain floors had an insane amount of security.”

He leaned in a little, studying you.

“Funny though.” You offered a half-cocked grin. “They do so little research on who cleans up. Like they don’t care. Like they aren’t as smart. Like they aren’t a threat. Beneath them.”

You could tell Donnie was frustrated since he wasn’t foreseeing the point.

“The background check was a joke, especially with the papers Shelly forged.”

Donnie gave your arms an astonished squeeze.

You cradled the box and lifted it a little as an offering. “Takes only 30 days to get access to all floors which is hilarious because I don’t think I’d earn caddy rights until like 90.”

Sensing you wanted him to, he again forced himself to let go of you again, this time in exchange for the present.

You placed your hand over top of the lid. “You said they flag everyone who enters their system.”

His entire body jolted.

“Which is true, but they only give a shit about some of them.” You looked right into his eyes. “Not the ones who come everyday. Not those-”

“-Beneath them…” He was short of gasping.

You took the top off revealing a small keycard. “They don’t even have facial recognition. You could literally use anyone’s card. It’ll get you right up to the special vault. Obviously we don’t clean in there, but it looks like it’s literally a keypad at that point. Shelly scanned and said it isn’t even hooked up to the internet. That means as long as someone entered when they expected, at night, you can get in.”

“You got me-!”

“Uranium.” You finished his sentence.

You hit the floor before you could even register his movement. The entire fall cushioned, his mouth was upon you and you were drowning in a veritable sea of kisses.

“Ack! Donnie!”

“You!” He caught hold of your head and his smile threatened to crack his face wide open.

“Do you like it?” You teased.

“You, I-” He choked, his lip quivering around an unsaid word. “I-you. I-”

“It’s okay.” You found your hands and cradled his face with a sweep over his bottom lip. “You don’t have to say it. I hear you.”

“For my birthday!?” 

“Yes.” 

“You staked out a location!” 

“Yes?” You giggled. 

“Accomplice to breaking and entering!” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You squeezed his cheeks. 

“Plausible deniability.” He glanced away and returned with an expression that oozed pride. “Downright villainous.” 

“I learned from the best…” You swept a thumb over his smile lines. 

“That was not worth what you did in the slightest! However-!” He forced through his closing throat, a few tears breaking free.

“I don’t know. Look at you.”

He tried to kiss your grin away.

There was no way he could.

Breaking only for air, he continued to pepper you as you tried to explain the rest of the necessary information. “So, you can go in whenever you want though I’m quitting without notice. The me that went in doesn’t even exist so who cares. You’ll want to go before they shut the card off though, so not long. I also have the routes of how the cleaners disperse each night along and all the building’s cameras and sensors.”

“How?” He couldn’t pull his mouth from you, but you could feel how enamored he was.

“Shelly pulled all the starting weight; I took over from there, but the idea of it all was a hunch of mine that happened to pan out.”

“Magnificent.” He finally broke free to look at you. “Incredible.” He brushed back your hair and took you in. “There aren’t enough words to describe how I feel for you.”

You looked away and then back. “There’s a few but…”

You saw him stiffen and his lips part.

You covered his mouth with your whole hand. “You know I want that, but that was a joke! When you’re ready, Donnie. Geez!”

He kissed your hand once, twice, and then gave it a nudge.

You removed it. “Yes?”

“Take a sick day.”

“Haven’t I had enough of those?” You stared at him with dried incredulity.

“They’ve been worried?”

You sighed, pretending to be put off. “Yes.”

“Take it.”

“But…” It was tempting. 

“You need to recuperate.” He wasn’t wrong.

“... Fine.” You gave in and came up to kiss him.

He pulled you a little closer and deepened it for one long massage before pulling away just enough to speak in scorched puffs. “To get you the rest you need I fully intend to eat you out until you come apart at the very seams and fall in the most satisfied rest of your life.” 

You squeaked. 

“In which case I might, might consider myself forgiven for my transgressions.”

A shudder ran through you and you tried to kiss him, but he just barely resisted.

“When you wake, if I’ve done my job to an adequate standard, then maybe, maybe, again twice the emphasis, I will allow myself coitus proper.”

“Allow yourself?” You could already feel yourself devolving into a needy mess. “What about me?” 

Nudging your cheek, his lips graced your skin. “Hence the timing. Rest assured your satisfaction is guaranteed by one of my defining characteristics.” 

You reviewed him through lashes. 

“My sharp tongue.” With another press, he caught your lips and demonstrated with a lick that winded said heat around yours. 

In a few flicks, his moistened point soaked somewhere else. 

“Monster.” You breathed as he broke the lock.  More than agreeable, he gave an indicative growl before scooping you up to run you over to the bed. You squealed at his speed and heard a few happy chirps pop from him in the journey until you crashed into the sheets and he finally answered, “Without question!”

NEXT

I would be nothing without my betas @tmntxthings and @thepinkpanther83

[adventuresasmrsfindley]

Last day of school before break for my boy! I'm looking forward to not setting my alarm for 6:15 AM for the next 2 weeks 👏🏻

I'm only working until 2 today so I can go to his class party. I was going to go back to work after but my boss told me to take the afternoon off. Don't have to tell me twice! Tonight we are going out for pizza to celebrate him finishing his first semester of school!! I can't believe it's already Christmas break. This year has probably been the fastest of my life.

I can't get over how freakin cute he was at his program last night! I'm so proud of how much he has come out of his shell since starting school. He's still relatively shy but he's much more willing to put himself out there and try new things. Also, he is so GD tall 😂 he stood at least a head over all of the other kids on stage. I was the same growing up. Got those long legs from his Mama (and that's basically all he got from me lol #miniCole)

Finished The True Love Experiment last night! It was so cute. I picked up 3 more books from the library yesterday and I'm hoping to finish them all before the end of the year.

That's all for this morning's random brain dump. Have a great Wednesday, friends!!

[dukeswonderousmenagerie]

Jigen Movie HC's

spoilers for the new Jigen movie but ive had a few HC's If you are OK with spoilers, click the readmore, if you arent keep scrolling

Do you think Oto started talking shortly before Jigen actually left.

Do you think she accidentally did call him papa when she finally had to say goodbye to him.

The first true words outside of that cute little giggle at the table and they're directed at the man that gained her trust and treated her like how her own parents should have.

Do you think it hurt her to accidentally call this man by "papa" only to watch him leave shortly after. . .Or do you think she was happy to watch him leave after doing so, because for the first time in her life, she actually trusted someone. Trusted that this man who had gone through hell and back wouldn't truly leave her behind, that he would always remember her no matter how long they spent apart. And that there would be a chance one day for him to come back and visit.

Because she also knows. . . she would always remember him. . .

Do you think to cushion the blow of him leaving, Jigen allowed himself a few day's to just enjoy the little girls presence.

that line he said before, of oh I hate kids their irritating

We all know that was just him trying to be badass for grandma, we know Jigen likes kids. He just knows deep down getting attached to them hurts him because he knows that sooner or later he has to leave them behind. . .and it hurts when he does that.

Its why he hates goodbyes

But do you think a day or two before he left, when all the danger and its ripple effects had ended, that he finally truly allowed himself to enjoy this little girls company in relative peacefulness. To enjoy witnessing the little moment's when she would break free of her shell and finally act like the little kid that she always should have been.

To witness her find out that she enjoys fixing watches with Chiharu. To see her talking to the other store owners who lived on the block and how his heart would break just a little to hear her laugh at their silly antic's cause for once, for once in a true while, she's finally enjoying life like it should be enjoyed

how deep down, the two of them are the same in many ways.

How as much as it hurts for him to admit it, that Oto had to learn that life was still good in ways that he did once.

By going through the worst shit imaginable before finding out that life could be good. That it could be fun and grand and magnificent and that while scary it was easier to deal with when you had people on your side.

He had Lupin to teach him that.

In return Jigen taught Oto that.

That in the end no matter how scary, people like him and Chiharu would always be there to show her that Life could also be the greatest thing to experience, that no matter your past, your future could be just as bright if you let it.

He taught her that by enjoying her company and having fun with her.

He shouldn't have, he knew that

. . .but hey when did he ever play by the rules