#their relationship was officially of equal footing

[mayhemspreadingguy]

Adelphopoiesis AU

[kjack89]

Background Noise

It's been so long I almost don't remember how to do this.

Hiiiii sorry I've been MIA, it's an election year. You know how it goes. Anyway, here's a little something as proof of life. Love you all for sticking with me. I'll be back when I can.

E/R, modern AU, developing relationship. And all of the fluff.

Enjolras finished the sentence he was typing and sat back in his chair, reading through the paragraph he’d just written with a furrowed brow. Well, it wasn’t the best writing he’d ever done, but considering it was a filler paragraph in the middle of a letter to local elected officials that would almost certainly never be read by anyone other than some low level staffer or intern, it would have to do.

He sighed and scrubbed a hand across his face, his hand stilling when he caught what someone was saying nearby. “...Despite the immense popularity of the campaign, sales of Energizer batteries actually went down during the years that the ads ran. Duracell claimed—”

Enjolras lowered his hand to frown at Grantaire, seated at a nearby table in the back room of the Musain and still blithely rambling without looking up from his phone. “What are you doing?” he interrupted, equally parts confused and incredulous.

Grantaire broke off and glanced up at him, and Enjolras noted that he didn’t even have the good grace to look abashed. “Reading the Wikipedia entry for the Energizer Bunny.”

As if that was an even remotely normal thing to be doing. “Why?” Enjolras sighed, rubbing his forehead.

Grantaire shrugged. “Seemed appropriate,” he said cheerfully. “You know, because he—” He broke off, making a face. “It? They?”

“I don’t think the pronouns of a corporate marketing campaign are really relevant,” Enjolras said dryly.

Grantaire raised both eyebrows, amused. “Oh, so respect for pronouns is conditional now. I see how it is.”

Enjolras ground his teeth together. “I didn’t say that—”

“Anyway,” Grantaire continued, ignoring him, “like I said, seemed appropriate because the Energizer Bunny just keeps on going and going and going and going—”

“Yeah, I get the idea,” Enjolras said waspishly. “But why are you reading it out loud?”

Grantaire just shrugged again. “Why not?”

Honestly, Enjolras wasn’t even sure what answer he expected, and he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Is this something that you do often?”

Grantaire scratched his cheek as he considered it. “Define ‘often’.”

Enjolras gave him a look. “Grantaire.”

Grantaire grinned, that slightly crooked grin that inevitably heralded him saying something that would piss Enjolras off. “Sometimes, when you’re otherwise occupied and slash or completely lost to the world, it’s a fun little thing I like to do.” His grin widened. “Or at least, it’s fun seeing how long it takes for you to notice.”

It spoke volumes that Enjolras wasn’t even remotely surprised. “Of course.”

“It’s a drinking game,” Grantaire added brightly. “Or at least, I drink while I play it, so that counts, right?”

“Of fucking course,” Enjolras sighed, even less surprised by that. “I should point out that by that logic, and I use the word as loosely as the English language allows, any game you drink while playing is a drinking game.”

Grantaire’s grin sharpened into a smirk. “This is exactly what I’ve been saying! I just think—”

But Enjolras cut him off, far too used to Grantaire’s ability to take a tangent and turn it into a diatribe until someone interrupted him or he otherwise got bored. “As fascinating as it always is to learn how you choose to spend your time, you’re going to have to knock it off.”

“Why?”

Enjolras bit back his immediate response that it was because it was annoying as hell. “Because it’s distracting,” he said instead.

“Of course,” Grantaire said, with a wry twist of his lips. “Heaven forbid I distract the Noble Leader from his all-important work.”

He doffed an invisible cap to Enjolras, who felt strangely tongue-tied and wrong-footed, the way only Grantaire ever seemed to be able to make him. “I didn’t mean—” he started, but Grantaire cut him off.

“I suppose it’s about time I head home, anyway.”

Enjolras glanced down at the time on his phone and then back at Grantaire, frowning. “You’re heading home before midnight?”

“Sorry, did I say head home?” Grantaire asked, draining his beer and setting it back down on the table with a thud to shrug his coat on. “I meant to another bar.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes and looked back down at his computer. “That sounds more like it,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Goodnight, Grantaire.”

But despite his rather pointed farewell, Grantaire didn’t leave, instead lingering for long enough that Enjolras glanced back up at him, his brow furrowing. Just when he was about to ask what was wrong, Grantaire gave him another smile, smaller and tighter this time. “Goodnight, Enjolras,” he said, finally turning and leaving, dropping his beer bottle in the recycling as he did.

Enjolras stared after him for a long moment before shaking his head to clear it and looking stubbornly back at the letter. Ten minutes of staring at it without adding a single word later, he sighed and shut his laptop with a snap. 

Typical Grantaire, he thought sourly to himself as he grabbed his bag to pack up all of his things, somehow finding a way to annoy him without even being physically present.

He’d just have to try to work on it again the following night, ideally without the dulcet sounds of the Energizer Bunny Wikipedia entry. 

Of course, knowing Grantaire, he’d find a new way to annoy him anyway.

— — — — —

Just as Enjolras suspected, the next night seemed like a repeat of a thousand nights that preceded it. After the Les Amis meeting wrapped up, Grantaire lingered while everyone else dispersed, leaning back in his chair to prop his feet on the chair next to him, sipping from his beer as he scrolled through his phone. 

But at least he was mercifully silent while doing so, which Enjolras would take as a win.

For his own part, Enjolras settled in to finish the letter, all too aware that it needed to go out sometime the next day. He worked better with a deadline, after all, so finishing it up should have been a breeze.

Unfortunately, Enjolras instead found himself unable to concentrate, glancing at his phone and clicking over to Twitter as if it would somehow have updated in the prior thirty seconds. He didn’t know what was wrong with him, and he rubbed his face vigorously with both hands as if that might somehow get him to concentrate.

It didn’t.

Instead, Enjolras sat back in his seat, scowling. He was in his favorite place to do work, he’d had the perfect amount of caffeine so he was alert but not jittery, and yet he couldn’t force himself to actually get anything done. It was almost like something was missing, something in the back of his mind that kept him on task, or—

His head snapped up, his eyes narrowing as he looked over at Grantaire, who was still conspicuously quiet. “That thing you do,” Enjolras said, and Grantaire glanced up at him. “Where you say stupid shit while I’m not paying attention?”

“Yeah?” Grantaire said cautiously.

“I realize I didn’t actually define often,” Enjolras said. “So, uh, would you say that this is a daily occurrence?”

Grantaire looked amused. “Would you say that you ignoring me is a daily occurrence?” he asked, saccharine sweet.

“Yes.”

Grantaire grinned. “Well, there’s your answer.”

Enjolras shook his head slowly. “Fucking Christ,” he muttered, running a hand across his face before straightening his shoulders. “Right. Well, you can do it again.”

Grantaire’s grin faded, just slightly. “Do what again?” he asked.

“Talk, or read out loud, or whatever other stupid shit you try to get away with without me noticing,” Enjolras said, something resigned in his tone.

Grantaire blinked. “Really?” he asked, equal parts amused and skeptical.

Enjolras shrugged helplessly. “What can I say,” he muttered, well aware he was blushing and equally aware that Grantaire would undoubtedly use this against him at some point in the future, “I’ve apparently gotten so good at tuning you out after all these years that you’ve essentially become a really effective white noise machine.”

He half-expected him to feign offense at that, but Grantaire just laughed, the sound bright and genuine. “Well, at least you can no longer say I’m completely useless,” he said, and Enjolras rolled his eyes, even if he couldn’t quite stop his answering smile.

“No, I guess I can’t,” he agreed. He hesitated before asking, “So will you read to me? Whatever nonsense you’ve been reading, or anything you like?”

Grantaire’s expression softened, just slightly. “For you?” he asked, with none of his usual sardonic sharpness. “I think I can manage that.”

He picked his phone up again and cleared his throat before reading out loud, “Neither Kamala Harris nor Donald Trump is campaigning on the coming ‘tax cliff,’ which is rarely mentioned in their paid messaging or stump speeches. In their only debate, Harris talked about taxes far more than Trump, who only mentioned them twice — once to deny that his tariffs amounted to a “tax” on consumers, and once to promise future tax cuts, without much detail.”

Enjolras had been expecting another stupid Wikipedia entry, or maybe something equally inane from Reddit. He hadn’t expected a news article, and even less a news article about politics, one of many things Grantaire always professed not to care about.

He was out of his chair before he even realized it, crossing over to Grantaire. “Let me see that,” he said, reaching for Grantaire’s phone. Grantaire raised both eyebrows but nonetheless handed it over, standing and crossing his arms in front of his chest as Enjolras scrolled through the article in question, his brow furrowing. He glanced back up at Grantaire. “You were really reading this?”

Grantaire shrugged and reached out for his phone. “How else am I supposed to be able to effectively argue with you?” he asked, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Maybe it was.

Maybe it was as obvious as Grantaire saying God only knew what while Enjolras tuned him out.

Enjolras felt a slow smile stretch across his face, and instead of handing Grantaire his phone back, he closed the space between them and kissed him.

For one long moment, Grantaire was perfectly still, but then he kissed Enjolras back, wrapping his arms around Enjolras waist and opening his mouth against Enjolras’s. 

Then, without warning, Grantaire pulled away. “What?” Enjolras asked, just this side of breathless.

“You need to finish that by tomorrow,” Grantaire said, nodding toward Enjolras’s laptop.

“Are you really trying to be the responsible one right now?” Enjolras asked, grinning.

“Yes,” Grantaire said, suddenly serious. “I’m not giving you any excuse to blame me, or this, for fucking things up.”

Enjolras scowled. “I wouldn’t—” he started, and when Grantaire just gave him a look, he held his hands up and laughed. “Fine, I probably would.”

Grantaire nodded. “And I definitely don’t want to give you a reason not to do that again,” he said, smiling that crooked smile again, and it took everything in Enjolras not to kiss him again. 

“Fine,” he sighed instead, tearing his eyes away. “But I still need you to keep reading something.” He paused and made a face. “Not that article, though, I really don’t need to hear about fucking Trump right now.”

“Fine by me,” Grantaire said, taking his phone back from Enjolras. His thumbs flashed across the keyboard as he typed something and then he settled back down into a chair, one conspicuously closer to Enjolras and farther from his beer. 

Again he cleared his throat, only this time, he read, “The Constitution promises liberty to all within its reach, a liberty that includes certain specific rights that allow persons, within a lawful realm, to define and express their identity. The petitioners in these cases seek to find that liberty by marrying someone of the same sex and having their marriages deemed lawful on the same terms and conditions as marriages between persons of the opposite sex.”

Enjolras would’ve recognized those words anywhere. "Obergefell v. Hodges?” he asked, amused, shaking his head fondly. “God, you’re such a nerd."

Grantaire glanced up at him. “Takes one to know one,” he said, sticking his tongue out, and Enjolras barked a laugh and shook his head once more before finally returning to his work as Grantaire continued reading, his voice a soothing background to the sound of Enjolras’s typing, the way it had been for years now without him ever noticing.

But he noticed now.

And since he did notice, he had a brand new motivation to get through his work in a timely manner. 

And judging by the grin that Grantaire still wore, he knew it, too.

[meazalykov]

Sight for sore eyes

Salma Paralluelo x BenficaPlayer!R

warnings: short chapter

Nycole Raysla dribbles the ball through Ona Batlle and Ingrid Engen outside of the box. Taking this as a golden opportunity, Y/n L/n moves through an open space to receive a possible pass. She didn’t go unnoticed by the Brazilian forward, who passed the ball to her with her backheel. Y/n taps the ball once with her right foot before taking a shot, with Ingrid Engen missing her shot by a second. Goal!  

The Portuguese supporters erupt as Y/n runs to the corner with her hands out wide. She couldn’t believe it. This is her second goal of the night and the score is 3-3 in the 70th minute. The girl’s teammates ran by her side to congratulate her on the goal. 

“Number 7 Y/n L/n equalizes in the Champion’s League match!” the commentator screams in excitement. 

After the celebration, Y/n looks over at Salma Paralluelo on the Barcelona bench. She was substituted out for Esmee Brugts two minutes before, but she hoped that Salma saw her goal. Y/n wasn’t someone who looked for external validation, but she wanted the girl in braids to be impressed by her goal. 

Salma saw her goal, and she was impressed. 

Salma didn’t celebrate obviously, out of respect for her Barcelona team. She looked at Y/n with soft eyes and a light smile. The Benfica player took it as a silent approval. 

The girls weren't in an official relationship, but they’re in a long distance talking stage through social media. Y/n L/n is a (Reader’s Country) International who was in La Masia before signing to Benfica. She knew Salma for years, but they weren’t friends while attending the same school. 

Salma, who casually scrolled through instagram one day, stumbled upon a captivating Instagram post from Y/n. She didn’t follow her, she saw the post through a mutual friend's story. The Spanish girl knew Y/n from the academy. When Y/n left Barcelona, she didn’t notice because her promotion to the Femeni A team happened at the same time.

Salma was entranced by Y/n's striking features and magnetic presence in the post. The girl had a four photo slideshow of herself on vacation in Albania (Visual at the end). Salma couldn't resist the urge to reach out. With a flutter of excitement and confidence, she initiated a conversation through social media. Y/n was surprised by this reach out, but they've sparked an instant connection. Y/n adored Salma and Salma couldn’t stop thinking about Y/n outside of football. 

The game ended in 4-4 which disappointed the Benfica player. She didn’t want to defeat Barcelona out of hatred or vengeance for the club letting her go, but her competitiveness inside of her wanted to end their winning streak to boost her team’s morale.

As Y/n places on her red puffer jacket and pulls the tight hair tie out of her hair, she looks over at her teammate who walks towards her. 

“Congrats on the goal against your old club!” Jessica Sliva pats on Y/n’s back. The younger girl smirks before shaking her head. 

“Thank you...... Sorry- I feel like I shouldn’t have celebrated it.” Y/n confesses when her appreciation sounded monotoned. Jessica lowers her eyebrows in confusion, “Why?” 

“Barcelona is the club I grew up with. People might consider the celebration I did as disrespectful.” Y/n swallowed. Jessica smirks before looking behind Y/n, seeing a particular girl 40 feet away with her own team. 

“Is it because of that, or is it because of Salma?” Jessica smirks and nods her head towards someone behind them. 

Y/n turns and sees Salma looking at her. The girl blushes and waves at the Spanish, who waves at her back with a shy smile. 

“You’re in love, girl.” Jessica jokes. 

“Shut up!” Y/n laughed, not denying it. 

The girl continued to look at Salma as Jessica walked away. She knew that she had to go talk to her, but she is shy. All she does is admire from afar.

“What a sight for sore eyes.” Y/n thought, looking at Salma who moved to talk to Vicky Lopez. 

Two months earlier....

(Pretend you're in the pictures below)

y/n.l/n

sarandë, albania

tagged: jackie_groenen_14

liked by esmeebrugts, urbestie, and 11,237 others

loving albania 🇦🇱

comments

urbestie I LOVE THESE PICTURES OMGGG

jackie_groenen_14 had a good time 🤩

evagaetino 🥰

wosoplayers457 SO CUTEEEE

barcefemenifan7 come back to Barcelona 🔵🔴

shesaballer you are not beating the psg transfer rumors

salmaparalluelo follows y/n.l/n

an: hope you liked :)

[bumblesimagines]

Marcus Baker

you never gave me back my things.

i was hoping i'd see you again.

i never like how it ended between us.

you never gave me back my things.

i was hoping i'd see you again.

i never like how it ended between us.

Pronouns: They/Them/Theirs, Gender Neutral!Reader

You released a sigh of relief as you slumped back in the chair and released the pencil, giving your aching hand a much-needed break. You rubbed the area between your thumb and index finger, pleased to have finally finished the five-page essay for English class. You were certain if you had to read another ancient poem and write an essay about it again, you'd have a breakdown alongside your classmates. But with the pressure of the deadline disappearing, you looked forward to taking a break from classwork. 

You stood up from the table and collected the papers, carefully slipping them into a folder and then sliding the folder into your backpack. You nodded to the other students studying and working at the table before slinging your backpack over your shoulder and making a beeline for the doors. As much as you loved the school's library, you never wanted to step foot in it again for at least two weeks. 

"Hey, (Y/N)!" A voice called out, attempting to be quiet but still getting dirty looks from those nearby. Marcus dipped his head apologetically and whispered a few 'sorry's before facing you and offering a sheepish, equally as apologetic smile. 

Before Virginia Miller had strolled into Wellsbury, you might've greeted Marcus with a kiss and told him all about your day. You might've taken his hand, listened to his troubles, and given him as much advice and reassurance as he needed. But he'd chosen to ruin the relationship you'd poured so much time into over a girl he hardly knew well. You half-expected them to boldly continue their secret relationship as an official couple now, but all you saw were longing looks from her and an exhausted-looking Marcus.

"I heard you were going to start tutoring again and- and was wondering if you could help me with homework? I'll pay you, obviously. I don't have a lot but-"

"Silver's looking, too. I can pass her your number and she'll help you with whatever you need, Marcus." You told him, turning on your heel and stepping out of the library. The door shut behind you, only to open again as Marcus followed. The Bakers seemed like a notoriously stubborn family, and yet they'd been a family you once wished to become a part of.

"Actually, I was hoping I'd see you again. I-I wanted to talk about everything, you know? I didn't like how it ended between us." Marcus explained, occasionally stumbling over his words as he quickened his pace to catch up with you. 

"Oh, you mean how you spent months secretly hooking up with your neighbor who was in a relationship with one of your sister's friends and I found out at the same time as everyone else because you didn't have the balls to tell me you didn't want to be with me anymore? It would've saved me a whole lot of trouble, Marcus. And by the way, you never gave me back my things."

Marcus quickened his step again and stepped in front of you, his hands shooting out to grab your forearms and force you to stop. You pursed your lips, your jaw clenching briefly and head tilting to finally look him in the eye. "I fucked up, and I'm really sorry, (Y/N). And I didn't tell you about Ginny because I didn't want to break up. I-I-I was an asshole, I know that. I don't know what I was thinking but I knew I didn't want to lose you. I was confused and-"

"You were confused for nearly a whole year, Marcus? I seriously doubt that. Like I said, you would've saved me a lot of trouble being honest. Besides, if Ginny really wanted you, she wouldn't have gotten with Hunter." You brushed his arms away and stepped back. "Please, just drop this Marcus. It's over and it'll stay over. Maybe I'll forgive you and we'll become friends again but... I don't really want you in my life right now."

[touch-starved-reader]

Brahms Heelshire SFW Alphabet

not proof read.... enjoy

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

On a scale from 1-10 brahms is a solid 9.

Brahms preferes to show, not tell. He likes to show affection with little acts of service like making you a sandwich. But his absolute favorite is  physical touch all the way. When you first move in he is a little nervous to touch you, but once he is used to it he will bear hug you every chance he gets.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Brahms is a clingy best friend, and he definitely has rules he set up for his friends even when he was young. He will get jealous easily and probably lash out at you. He doesn't want to be mean, but he has rules for a reason, if you would just follow them he would be a great friend.

As a friend he doesn't quite see you as an equal, unlike his nanny you have no right to tell him what to do. He sees nothing wrong with bossing you around and manipulating you. None of this is done with bad intentions, he just thinks he knows better than you. 

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He loves cuddles,but his favorite is to hold you like you are a stuffed animal. He most definitely has a body pillow of you in the walls so this is just the position he is used to. However, sometimes he just wants to rest his head in your lap and have you play with his hair. 

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Brahms can do the bare minimum with cooking and cleaning, he knows how to but prefers it if someone else does it for him. 

In regards to settling down, in brahms eyes as soon as he lays his eyes on you, you are his forever. I don't think he would ever do an official wedding ceremony, but he would most definitely give you a family heirloom ring and would refer to himself as your husband. 

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

To put it simply, the only way out of this relationship is death. Either he kills you, you kill him, or one of you die of natural causes. This man doesn’t do breakups, and he sure as hell isn't letting you go.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

As I said before, Brahms wouldn't do an official ceremony but to him, he committed to you and you committed to him the moment you stepped foot in the house. 

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He tries his best to be gentle when he can, but the boy is a bit unstable. He has the emotional maturity of a child but the body of an adult, you will get hurt and scared at some point during your time with him, but know it is not his intention and he might apologize for hurting you but will always demand an apology for whatever upset him in the first place.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

His hugs are big, warm, soft and often. At first he might squeeze too hard, but with gentle reminders he will get used to it and give the best hugs. His favorite way to hug you is from behind while you are doing your daily tasks.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

He is saying it soon and often. I feel like if he thinks you will leave near the beginning of your stay at the Heelshire manor, he will tell you he loves you and beg you to stay if he thinks you might leave him. Most of the time he says it because he wants reassurance that you love him too. So when he says he loves you, say it back. 

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

If you have seen the movie, you know Brahms doesn’t share. He might get violent towards the person that he thinks is too close to you, lock you up in the attic for a bit, or just be generally clingy once the person leaves. 

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

The man likes to keep the mask on, but forehead kisses and kisses on the lips are a must. Once he is ok with taking his mask off in front of you, he will kiss every inch of your body you let him kiss. 

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Why would you want children? You have him. In all seriousness, the thought crossed his mind once, he thought of baby trapping you, but the idea of having to share your affection was enough for him to solidly decide, no kids, ever. 

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

This man has his whole day scheduled, he will be waking up promptly when the piece of paper says he will be waking up. He expects breakfast to be made by you most days, but after he starts spending less time in the walls he will make eggs on occasion for you. 

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Read this man a bedtime story and give him a goodnight kiss every night. Otherwise he will be cranky and either sulk or make it your problem. I think he likes to sleep with you in his arms when he can, but his little bed in his room doesn't fit him very well anymore, and it sure wouldn't fit the both of you. However there are plenty of beds in the house, so don't worry. 

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

You are going to find out most things about him on your own, he doesn't particularly talk much. But things like getting to know he is a human, well he will reveal that when he feels he has no other choice, or he just gets extra jealous of the doll. Either way it isn't happening quickly. . 

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He is pretty easily angered but just as easily calmed down. Just start going by the schedule and throw in an apology, everything is fine and dandy again.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?) 

This man has a shrine and journal dedicated fully to you. He will remember every little detail he can, wether it be to make you happy or to manipulate you, hard to know. 

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

The first time you gave him a good night kiss, not the doll but him. Its not like he felt it through the mask, but the proximity made him absolutely ecstatic. 

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

This man is a protector, anyone tries to hurt you and they won't live to tell the tale. He is so protective that if he thinks you are in the slightest bit of danger he will step in and do something, it might just be moving the doll to freak out the person threatening you, or he may just break through the wall. 

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He puts in a lot of effort into the relationship, not always in a positive way but he is trying. He will on special occasions pamper you though. He is the type to do the simple things to show love since the two of you never leave the house. But he may put something nice for you on the grocery list or set up a nice stay-in movie date. Long story short he tries to keep you happy with what he can. 

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He is childish in a lot of ways, he needs to be told to pick up after himself, and 9 times out of 10 you will be doing the household chores. That's not to mention the temper tantrums. He doesn't know how to control his emotions very well. 

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He is actually very concerned about looks, he feels like since there isn't much he can do with his face he covers it. He is also very shallow with his partner's looks, yes he is desperate for love but if you weren't up to his standards you would have been on the chopping block. 

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Oh this man couldn't survive without you. He doesn't have his parents any more and its not like he could just look for another nanny. On a fundamental level he needs you. That being said he would also be sad and lonely without you. He would miss every little thing you do and drive himself mad without you. 

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

This stinky man loves to take baths and shower, he just didn't have the means to while living in the walls.I feel like he would be very well groomed if he was given the chance. 

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Someone who is rude or has a bad temper. In a weird kind of way, he wants someone motherly, sonmone who can take care of him.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

This man sleeps on a schedule, he may stay up late to watch you through the walls but he is definitely still getting up at the same time every day. I also think he is the type to not move a lot in his sleep. The most peaceful time is when Brahms is asleep.

[poisonheiress]

To start this lovely commentary, I will place my cards out in the open:

Blitzo is not the villain in his and Stolas' relationship nor is Stolas the victim in this realtionship either.

To some, this statement is a recognizable fact, one the canon caste system even supports. However, many of the current fanbase seems to disagree with this idea, comparing Blitzo to abusive characters like Stella, Crimson, and even Mammon. Others even put him on the same level as those previous characters. Besides this being one of the greater leaps of logic I've seen come out of this fandom, it is simply not true.

Yes, Blitzo does not treat Stolas kindly outside of their sexual agreement with Blitzo appearing to outright ignore him most of the time if not purposefully avoiding him. However, notice the wording I used there: sexual agreement.

Stolas and Blitzo have never been in an official romantic relationship and their current agreement is not one Blitzo entered in on equal footing with Stolas nor out of affection for him. Blitzo agreed to be with Stolas as a means of survival for his business, somethings that is extremely rare for imps to have due to their caste position.

Time and time again we are poorly shown that a rather strict caste system does exist in hell. This means that relationships with people in different castes carry different problems and consequences for those involved.

For those in higher ranking castes in a high-lower rank relationship, the worst outcome of being with a lower ranking demon appears as a diminished social standing and lack of respect, but the lower ranking partner doesn't get that. For the lower ranking demon of the relationship, they risk dehumanization by their partner with them loosing all autonomy and independence. They are no longer themselves; they become an extension of their higher ranking partner, an object that can be tossed away if the partner

Blitzo, who was raised in this system and still suffers under it, is right to fear stepping into a relationship with Stolas, and he has more than a right to refuse to be kind and gentle to a being that is literally hanging his livelihood over his head for sexual favors.

It does not matter if Stolas truly cares about him or not. Their relationship from Day 1 was not something Blitzo could walk away freely from nor even wanted to be in. In physical, social, and economical might, Stolas holds all the cards in their relationship, and nothing Blitzo can do can change that. Stolas could kill Blitzo and no one would turn an eye because he is an imp and Stolas is a Prince.

As a result, Blitzo has no obligation to be kind to someone who is a high ranking member in the system that views him as equal to dirt nor can Stolas be upset about Blitzo doing such when their relationship was born from Stolas taking advantage of Blitzo in a vulnerable situation.

Stolas is no victim here, and if Viv had researched caste systems, the true victim of the relationship would be clearer: Blitzo.

Because at the end of the day, Blitzo remains under Stolas' thumb, an unwilling subject to whatever tasks or desires Stolas forces on him. That is all the caste system of hell allows him to be.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Wild Nights || CL16 {Epilogue}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x songstress!reader Summary: With a new album out it needs promoting and you find yourself missing Charles while you are in New York for a talkshow interview. Warnings: 18+only, flufffff WC: 1.1k

F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Epilogue

February 2025 “I wish you were here,” you whispered into the phone that you weren’t supposed to have in the talk show studio. “I’m shaking like a leaf.”

“You’ll do great, my love,” he reassured you and you could hear a lot of background noise from the other people at the airport. “I’ll see you soon.”

No sooner had the call ended that the studio lights dimmed and the live audience fell silent.

“Now our next guest really needs no introduction,” Jimmy Fallon began to say while you nervously paced behind the curtain, until Bea pulled you to a stop, “her debut self-titled album went platinum and I have no doubt her new album, Safety Car, will be just as good. Please, put your hands together for Y/N.”

Bea gave you an encouraging push and you forced yourself to focus on putting one foot in front of the other. No matter how many times you took the stage for a concert, or an interview, you still found yourself nervous - but you equally loved the thrill that came with it.

Once you were sitting in the chair the jitters faded away and you fell into the rhythm of answering the questions he fired your way.

“So, Safety Car, talk me through this album. How did you come up with the name?”

“Obviously Charles is a huge part of my life, we have known each other for a couple of years now, and this album was made collaboratively with him. That’s all him on the piano with pieces that he composed, so the journey of this album gives a glimpse into that relationship we have, especially the ups and downs that come with life. 

“I’m not sure if you keep up with Formula One, Jimmy, but when there’s danger on the track they deploy a safety car to guide the drivers through that peril. This whole album is about being each other's safety car and helping navigate the other through those hard times.”

“Wow, that is so wholesome and sweet,” he gushed before looking down at his cue card. “But what exactly is ‘that relationship’? Because we know you and Charles are together, everyone and their dog knows you two are together, but there was never actually any announcement as such and now there’s rumours that you secretly tied the knot while you were at the Vegas Grand Prix this year?”

You tipped your head back with a laugh. “You’ll have to ask him that because I don’t think he ever officially asked me out. We kind of just collided and stayed that way.”

“So you aren’t together?” he gasped like it was some scandalous news but you just gave him a wink.

“We love each other dearly, I mean, we found each other when we were both going through a difficult time and helped each other to heal. Any chance we have at seeing each other we take but we have always been aware that the reality is that our lives are in very different places. Charles’ work takes him all over the world and with my second tour coming up there just aren't a lot of places where our lines intersect.” 

The crowd sighed sadly but you shrugged it off with a smile as you continued, “Neither of us would ask the other to give up on their dreams, that wouldn’t be love then, would it? It’s what inspired my first single Love Is Letting Go. Charles had an amazing 2024 season and has renewed his contract with Ferrari, and his dream is to win a championship with them in particular so he’s very focused on that for this coming year and I’m so proud of him. Maybe one day our lives will be at the same pace but for now we cherish the moments we do get.”

“Oh don’t we know it,” the host chuckled. “We have all seen the photos floating around whenever you two hit the town. Looks like you have some pretty wild nights out together.”

“We do have a lot of fun. Why not? Life’s too short, might as well be wild and free.”

“That is true, but are you free? How else do you explain this photo?”

A picture appeared on the screen that had been taken inside the infamous White Chapel in Las Vegas. It wasn’t exactly clear who was in the photo because of the costumes but it didn’t take a genius to work out who was standing at the altar getting married. 

Pierre’s brown hair stuck out the front of a slick jet-black coifed wig while Bea’s white halter dress barely contained her boobs as she twerked against him. It was a little harder to tell it was you and Charles in front of Arthur, who had bought an online Certificate of Ordination so he could be the celebrant. Your brother-in-law had spent so long trying to find a printer in the hotel that he was last to arrive and left with a Star Wars costume.

“Well, Jimmy, I believe that is Darth Vader, Elvis Presley, Marilyn Monroe, and Bonnie and Clyde. And it looks like they are having one hell of a time.”

“That’s all you’re gonna give us?” he asked with a chuckle and mock disappointment as he shook his head. “Fine, fine. Can you at least give us a song?”

The small side stage was dark when you took your place at the microphone but when the lights came on and illuminated the piano it wasn’t Bea that was sitting there as planned.

The crowd screamed as they saw Charles and your eyes widened, a smile growing as you drank him in after a long two weeks apart. “You’re meant to be on a plane.”

“I got on an earlier one,” he said, the piano microphone picking up his soft words as he sent a wink to the camera, “so I could support my beautiful, talented wife.”

The air froze for a split second before chaos erupted and the audience cheered.

You looked across the stage at Jimmy as a smile broke on your face. “Uh-oh, busted!” You reached into your pocket and slipped the sedate diamond ring you had chosen, opting for something smaller than the huge rock that Charles would have gone for, and slipped it back on your finger that had felt empty without it. “I guess this makes us pretty official.”

Charles teased the crowd as he played the wedding march tune. “There was never any doubt in my mind.”

Tagging: @91vhs @alwaysclassyeagle @applespiez @ravenqueen27 @booksobsess @tempo-rary-fix @baw-sixteen @im-an-overthinker @notleclerc

[pixelatedtaken]

StaticMoth Abuse

Featuring mentions of Angel Dust's relationship with Val

TW: ABUSE, SA

SPOILERS AHEAD ↓

Here's a fact. Vox is not being abused by Valentino.

This fandom is so deep in fanon content that it heavily intertwines with canon. But let's try to understand where Val abusing Vox came from, why it's not true and how it correlates to Angel Dust's relationship with Val.

Let's begin:

In the, now archived, posts on Instagram (or voxtagram), it was revealed that Vox and Val were in a situation-ship, and canon officially confirmed it.

Now, Val as a character is heavily hated and for good reasons while Vox is not. Many people adore Vox and for that, his relationship with Val can be conflicting, adding a bit of difficulty in justifying their like for him.

Here's where Valentino's relationship with Angel Dust comes in.

Val has been shown to be abusive and to SA Angel Dust. First example of that being the Addict music video.

This has created the need for people to give a reason behind Vox's relationship with Val and make excuses for him so they can validate their favoritism.

"Val is so awful! He must be abusing Vox! Breaking his screen and whatnot!"

What people don't take into consideration is the difference in their power imbalance or lack thereof.

One of the core factors in Angel Dust's relationship with Val is the power difference between them.

Val is an overlord while Angel is a sinner.

A sinner that signed a contract with Val and gave his soul. That alone makes their dynamic vastly different. Val feels it's within his right to abuse Angel, to test his limits until he breaks. And up until episode 4, Angel believed he deserved it because whatever Val did to have him sign the contract must have been his fault. Although that's not true, Angel felt so. Heck, he wanted to break himself so that Val would let him go.

Vox and Val, on the other hand, don't have that. Both of them are overlords.

They are on equal footing. There is no power imbalance. In fact, the Vees could have not existed and both Vox and Val, including Velvette, would be completely fine without each other and continue to have their respective overlord status.

The reason it exists is exploitation.

All three can and do use each other so they can have a more powerful front. A mutual alliance of exploitation. Within this, they have created their own fucked up bond. As a result of that, Val and Vox have an on-again, off-again relationship. It's far from healthy, but it's not an abusive one.

Vox knows of Valentino's behavior but as long as it's not effecting their shared partnership, he will not interfere nor will he care about it.

Or maybe the next seasons will give me the middle finger and I'm completely wrong. Who knows? I just read a fic and saw posts about Vox being abused by Val and wanted to give my two cents on the topic.

[heretichromia]

Thoughts about Gladiia and Kal'tsit

I'm frustrated by (among many things) how little context we still have for Gladiia's relationship with Kal'tsit.

Even post-Path of Life. I was hoping for some more information, but at the very least the MTL of Path of Life is much more sparse with...characterization than I'd have liked it to be. I'm hoping that the official translation reveals things that were lost by automation, but I won't hold my breath.

The juxtaposition between Kal'tsit and her mother in their IS3 dialogue is really interesting. It's one of my favorite passages in the game. There's so much there, but it's also very specifically an early dialogue between them. At the time, they'd only recently met, and we only get snippets of anything that suggests a deeper connection between them in their other interactions.

More on that below the cut.

There will not be any Path of Life spoilers here. I don't really feel comfortable using Path of Life to support my arguments before it gets an official translation.

Does Gladiia see Kal'tsit as a mother figure?

Despite her being an adult woman, she's still—at the time of their IS3 conversation—trapped in the mold that her mother made for her. She reflects and realizes that the very virtues she's always fought for, the greater good she was prepared to sacrifice her life for, were planted in her by her family and her nation, and that she's never been able to "[swim] against the tide." Kal'tsit was the first person who prompted her to consider otherwise, to offer her some form of self-determination. She's attentive to Gladiia, directly contrasted with her mother's neglect. Her voice is cold, but her actions are warm, and that warmth is directly contrasted with her mother's at every beat. It's hard for me to read this passage without coming to the conclusion that Gladiia sees something of a mother in Kal'tsit, the mother she needed instead of the mother she had.

And...that's kind of the only place we really get that! And we don't even get the full conversation! Not that we need to, I think the passage is perfectly fine on its own without going in depth about what Gladiia shared with Kal'tsit and what her reactions were.

...So long as it's also supported by other passages that can help us fill in the blanks. Which we...don't have a lot of.

It's...abundantly clear that Gladiia has incredible respect for Kal'tsit. She's defensive of her, she speaks highly of her, and she actually listens to Kal'tsit when she contradicts her, often without argument. That doesn't mean she always behaves how Kal'tsit wants her to behave, but she clearly values her opinions and her judgment. She's obedient towards her, to someone completely uninvolved in the Ægirian power structure. The mere suggestion that the Inquisition could handle her in the event of conflict bruised Gladiia's ego enough that she turned confrontational in the middle of mission-critical negotiations, but she behaved the instant Kal'tsit pulled on her leash. This has been spoken about to death, so I won't belabor it any further, but it reflects some surprisingly warm feelings on Gladiia's behalf.

But that's...all we get.

We don't even get many looks into how Kal'tsit feels. She's obviously empathetic and caring, but that's...Kal'tsit. That's how she is, always. She's trying to carry the world on her back as much as she can while knowing that it needs to be able to stand on its own. If Gladiia does see Kal'tsit as a mother—

—which, if true, isn't even necessarily an indication that she sees the actual nature of their relationship as that of a mother and daughter, or preclude them from being on more equivalent footing (friends, partners, or even lovers); the entire Abyssal Hunters story is full of familial bonds that aren't necessarily literal—

—it's unclear if Kal'tsit sees Gladiia as a daughter, an equal who's lost her sense of direction, or just another of many, many lost children that she's taken temporarily under her wing until they can fly on their own. Kal'tsit is notoriously hard to read, by her own design.

Gladiia herself is hardly emotionally forthcoming, or perceptive for that matter. I think it's unlikely she knows exactly how Kal'tsit feels. Has she ever given it much thought? Has she considered speaking with her about it? My personal read on Gladiia is that she likely wouldn't unless prompted to, as she's had to be prodded to engage with others on an deep interpersonal level (mostly by Laurentina outside of this one conversation).

This gives a wide range of possible dynamics between the two of them that I would really like the story to actually give a damn about exploring! I find myself straining against the Abyssal Hunter story sometimes. I am extremely invested in these characters but only really interested in the plot by how it develops them. When the plot is intimately personal to the involved characters, like with the Sui storyline, it works wonderfully*—but the Seaborn as a plot device are extremely hit-or-miss.

*I do not actually think the Sui plot has consistently worked wonderfully, and I think it has considerable problems with direction, but I think this one part of it is actually pretty praiseworthy. See: Here a People Sows, where the entire thrust of the plot was deeply ingrained in character motivations.

[whatexactlyisoobleck]

i love ohtori.nu

aw the matching bracelets

but i wish more utenanthy art (both official and fanmade) depicted them as a couple on equal footing...cus thats the point of the entire show, that no one considers anthy as a human being on equal footing with everybody else. So much of it has her kneeling or providing a lap pillow or some other position that puts her in servitude.

its actually racist cus I KNOW THATS THE POINT OF THE SHOW I KNOW SHES THE ROSEBRIDE I KNOW HER BEING A DARK SKINNED WOMAN IS INTENTIONAL. but if your making PROMOTIONAL ART OR FANART of her then give her normal positions to be in. i KNOW ppl make dark fanart of other female characters in the show but why does anthy ONLY GET THAT KIND.

i think shes suffered enough shes struggled enough im tired of ppl depicting her either as some tragic martyr or some manipulative mastermind. yall can go out of ur way to make (cute) fanart of nanami and saonji's (again cute) nonexistant sibling relationship but yall cant make any nice sunny art of anthy?

[bathomet-writes]

science, baby!

summary: You and Donnie were intellectual equals, him with his inventions and you with your college studies. When you spend the afternoon studying in his lab, you can't deny the chemistry you two share.

relationship: Donnie x F!reader

warnings: romantic, fluff, humor, awkward flirting, love confessions, kissing

word count: 7,637

author's note: an anonymous request!! hope u enjoy!! 💖💖 (just fyi there's brief mentions about halfway through of...bewbs...if ur unfomfy with that i'm sorry!!)

Donatello knew he wasn’t good with feelings. He’d been getting better at processing and expressing them only recently, no thanks to Dr. Feelings. He supposed it also came from just getting older, interacting with more people and such. But just when he thought he was becoming slightly better at getting a handle on his emotions, there was you. 

You were a fly in the ointment, a wrench in the plans. Everytime Donnie thought about you, he got irrationally annoyed. It made no sense. 

“She is such a know-it-all, and I would know.”

You were one of April’s classmates from college that had slowly been integrated into their little social circle over the last couple of years. Donnie was usually either indifferent or mildly suspicious of most people April introduced his family to, even if she did have good taste in friends. But you had gotten into his good graces only because he found out that you were in the STEM field. You were a biochem major, or was it clinical laboratory science? 

He should probably know at this point, you were talking about your school work a lot more lately. The point being that you were at least a bit of an equal to him, being into science. An inferior science, but still. 

“Ugh…” Donnie sighed, removing his battle shell. 

After a long day of saving the city from villainous teen hackers and general badassery, he needed to unwind. The seclusion of his lab called out to him like a siren song as he shuffled past the living area of the lair. From the couch, Leo gave him a lazy wave of his foot as a greeting. 

“Donald.”

“Nardo.” He grunted.

Leo immediately notices the absence of Donnie’s battle shell, quirking his eyes up from his comic book. He must have had a long day if he didn’t even bother waiting until he was in his own room to take it off. 

“If you’re going to your lab you’re gonna want to stay decent. There’s a weirdo in there doing homework.” He smirks. 

Donnie stops dead in his tracks, his hand hovering over the security keypad of his door. 

“Pardon?”

“Relax, it’s just Y/N. She asked if you would mind if she used your space for a while.”

With gritted teeth, Donnie slowly spun his head around to face Leo. He was a pretty reasonable guy, but his lab wasn’t exactly a study hall. There were rules, we live in a society, you don’t just go into another man’s lab when he’s not around.

“I do mind, actually!” He shouts, nearly spitting. “How did you even open the door?”

“That’s what we said! And she just let herself in.” Going back to his comic, Leo slumps down into the recesses of the couch. 

Donnie’s eye twitched so hard he looked like he might bust a blood vessel. 

“Fascinating.” He growls. 

Alright, that tears it. You were officially the most annoying person he knew. Donnie quickly punched in the code, completed the retinal scan, and charged into his lab to see you sitting there. And in his chair of all things. There were plenty of stools and benches around, but of course, you just had to be sitting in his gamer chair. 

You straighten as soon as you hear the door slide open, the mechanical hiss loud enough to hear even with your headphones in. 

“Oh, there you are! How was your day?” You take out your earbuds and regard Donnie with as much friendliness as you can muster. You had a feeling he would be a little peeved seeing you like this. 

Unfortunately, your prediction was correct. Donnie calmly steps forward after setting his shell on the rack on the wall. With a sharp inhale and his hands folded behind his back, he opens his eyes. 

“Doing a little studying, huh? Some light schoolwork?”

With a soft chuckle, you spin back around to the work table. You almost forgot you still had your thumb on the plunger of your pipette. Carefully, you deposit the rest of the sample into the tube. 

“Yup,” you chirp. 

“Mmhmm. No, that’s great. You comfortable? Could I get you a pillow or a glass of water? Perhaps a more ergonomic chair with custom Corinthian leather upholstery?”

You detect the thick sarcasm in Donnie’s voice, smiling to yourself. You remain focused on your work however, you were almost done anyway. Without looking up, you sense Donnie standing right behind you, practically breathing down your neck. 

“Is that what I’m feeling? You spare no expense, Don. It’s so luxurious.” You sigh, shimmying your shoulders. 

Donnie clears his throat before grabbing the top of his chair to spin you around. He wanted to look you in your cute, dumb face if he was going to lecture you. Wait, your face wasn’t cute. Even if you were wearing green-tinted protective goggles. Lab safety looked incredibly attractive on anyone! But with the way the subtle purple hue of his LED lights hit you…

“What are you doing in my lab, using my equipment?”

Dang, you were even wearing a lab coat. He secretly hoped that it was one of his that he kept in the closet with this other spare– No, enough of that. He was mad at you. 

“I’m using my own, thank you very much. And I needed to get out of the lab on campus. It’s way too crowded right now with finals and everything. Plus it stinks of chemicals.”

Smiling sweetly up at Donnie, you give him a gentle pat on his hand to dismiss him. He sputters watching you angle your foot onto the floor to twist the chair back around. 

“And now my fortress of solitude will as well. Thanks for that.” He makes a point to sniff indignantly at you and the bevy of chemicals you had lying around. 

“Anytime.” 

You screw on the cap of the test tube, moving onto the next one on the rack. It’s a little awkward with latex gloves on, and you feel yourself fumble grabbing the new tube. Maybe it was just nerves from being watched by Donnie. It did feel sort of hot in here all of the sudden. 

Peeking over your work, you see Donnie pull up another chair across from you at the table. He looked pretty steamed, almost like an angry tea kettle the way he was glowering at you. Without thinking about it, you find yourself smiling again. You quickly try and bite at your lip to cover it up. You at least had enough self-awareness to know that you had a bit of a crush on Donnie. Sure, he was kind of a control freak. And somewhat graceless when it came to matters of the heart, no matter how much he insisted that he wasn’t. 

He was quirky. Well, more like a weirdo with a god complex. But you were sort of the same. 

You both had a lot of things in common, a passion for science notwithstanding. When you first met him, you just assumed he was yet another aloof bad boy-type. You’ve been down that road before, and it never ended well for anybody involved. Not to sound like a total stereotype, but there was a little more to Donnie than all that. It just took years of wearing him down to see his true nature. He was fun, and funny! Didn’t help that you found him hot too. 

Donnie’s flat articulation makes you almost drop your test tube when he finally speaks up. 

“You’re lucky the ventilation system I installed in here is top-of-the-line.” He sighs, leaning back into his chair. 

He thankfully didn't notice your flub as he looked up at the ceiling. You try and find something witty to say back, but you come up empty. Instead, you reach your hand out to the box you need from across the table. 

“Pipette tip?” 

Donnie looks back down, his drawn-on eyebrows furrowing. “The what?”

You huff, pointing to the container right beside him. You would get it yourself, but you were a little preoccupied. Plus you had tragically short arms. 

Donnie knows this as well and gives you a smug smirk. His hand comes up and flutters over the box, teasing you. 

“These?” He leers. “Why don’t you just…” 

He deliberately slides them over to you. It’s a painfully slow joke that makes you blush a bit. You shoot your arm out again, only with a little more gusto. 

“TODAY, PLEASE!” You scream, startling Donnie. 

He jumps and pushes the box all the way over. “My god, woman. As I was saying–“

You frown as he tries to bore you with more shop talk. Donnie just could pass up an opportunity to brag about his lab and how much better he was than you. He thought he was better than most people, to be fair. 

Donnie was annoying sometimes, but you much preferred hanging out with him than the other students over at Eastlaird. The other clinical laboratory majors were mostly sorority girls who never talked to you, which was fine. You didn’t really have anything in common with them other than your career interests. The chemistry and biology students weren’t much better though. They were a more diverse mix of people, but they were so stuck-up. Even more than Donatello. College would be much more enjoyable if he was there with you, but moments like these would just have to do. 

You finish up your pipetting before looking around for the trash can. You swore you put it right by your feet, but you can’t find it anywhere. Delegating Donnie as your temporary lab assistant, you call out to him again. 

“Biohazard Bin.” You announce. 

He blinks, spinning around in his chair. He was mindlessly scrolling on his phone, so he didn’t really hear you. 

“Biohazard, what now?”

You get up from his gamer chair and it slides out from under you. “Unless you want infectious diseases all over the place?”

Finally, Donnie gets up as well and helps you search around. How was it that you were able to lose all your stuff in his lab all the time? He’s found plenty of articles of clothing of yours strewn about after you left the lair before. In spite of himself, always managed to gather them up and keep them in a little “lost and found” laundry basket he put by his door. You both knew it was only for you, and you actually found it kind of sweet. 

With a simple look beneath the work table, Donnie finds the red trash bin lying underneath. Of course it was. 

“Here you are.” He grumbles, kicking it over to you. 

You stop it with your foot before it topples over, glaring at him. Donnie sure was being a little stinker today. “Thank you.”

Carrying it back over to the table, you sweep your arm and push all your refuse into the bin. You place it on the floor and move to make the last couple of notes in your lab book. It was mostly full of bored doodles, but it had all your observations and measurements listed out for your reference. Curiously, Donnie walks over to you and leans over your shoulder. He was eager to see what you were even doing, not bothering to just ask you himself. 

To his horror, your notebook looked like a mess. The drawings were fine. They were even a little adorable. But your hastily-written out equations were so…confusing to him. You didn’t even use numbers half the time! You just drew out weird shapes and stuff in place of numerals, it was mind-boggling. He loses his cool when he sees you write out ‘2 + 2 = 6.’

You snicker, feeling his head inch closer to yours. You knew that would get him. 

“You’re not even— ugh! You’re not doing it right!” He grabs at your notes before being stopped by your hand on his wrist.

“Do not rip it up.” You warn. 

“I was simply going to crumple it up and toss it into the biohazard bin.” He sneers, pulling his hand away.

“How would you know anyway? Medical science is my domain.”

You slide past him and grab for your backpack, slamming your notebook shut and dumping it in before he could look at it anymore. You definitely wouldn’t want him to see all the other doodles you did in the margins. There were a couple silly drawings you did of him in there, and you would probably combust on the spot if he were to look at them. 

“Even an idiot could see that your math is all over the place. Hell, I don’t even know what to call it. These are the ramblings of an insane person.” Donnie points over to your backpack as you tuck it under the table with the rest of your equipment. 

“You probably don’t even use that calculator of yours. The Texas Instruments are wasted on you!”

He seethes thinking about how lucky you were to be able to go to school when he couldn’t. He’d looked into online classes, at your behest, but it just wouldn’t be the same. He needed to learn, but he also needed to be around peers. People who shared his love of science, to rub elbows with the academic elites. Donnie really did crave more in-person social interaction, but what with the whole…turtle situation, among other things, it just wasn’t possible.

“Listen, Dee. You do things your way, I do them mine. Who cares about how naturally attuned I am to the natural world and how I don’t need to do fancy equations to do….science?” You wiggle your eyebrows at him mockingly. 

“You’re so right. I don’t care.” He turns, crossing his arms over his chest. 

You mirror his pose. “Really?”

“Nope.”

You walk around Donnie as he stands there, eyes shut in defiance. You can’t help the way your gaze wanders over him, taking in his body language. You found yourself sometimes ogling him and his impressive physique lately. He was mostly brains, but Donnie sure didn’t slack in the brawns department as well. 

Internally, Donnie notices you scrutinizing his form. He chuckles to himself, of course you were taken by his appearance. Who wouldn’t be? He usually prided himself and other people based purely on the mind. Personality and intellect were far more important than physical appearances, but he couldn't deny that he thought you were kind of hot. You know, just because he appreciated you in an aesthetic sense. Nothing more. 

“Dost I detect a bit of jealousy, fair maiden?” You stop in front of Donnie, bending slightly forward to get a better look at his face. You can see the corner of his lips move a bit. 

“Okay, now you’re just making fun of me.”

His eyes pop open when he realizes you’re but inches away from his face. Taking a shaky step back, Donnie attempts to tamp down the blush that tries creeping into his cheeks. 

You yawn and stretch, an even expression on your face to juxtapose his flustered one. “Not making fun, just forming a hypothesis.”

Shrugging off the lab coat, you carefully fold it up and hand it over to Donnie. A bit taken aback, he quietly takes it from you. He didn’t think he was right about you borrowing his clothes, but you did. And so casually too. You even folded it up the way he liked it, with the sleeves wrapped around the coat and everything. 

There it was again. Annoyance bubbling up in his gut. It felt a little more like butterflies in his stomach, but Donnie didn’t know how else to describe the emotions he was feeling right now. 

“Uh-huh.”

Donnie gulps, feeling unusually sheepish out of nowhere. You borrowed and used his stuff all the time, even being so bold as to enter his lab when he wasn’t there. He should still be mad at you, but he wasn’t. He swore you were really testing his bad-boy resolve right now, especially with the way you so easily moved around his space. Like you practically lived there. You opened up several drawers and cabinets to replace other materials you ‘borrowed’ from him, mostly just the protective gear like goggles and gloves. 

Jeez, he felt like he was going soft. Donnie places his lab coat on another counter to hover behind you again. He watches on, almost admiring as you pack up the last of your lab equipment. He recognized most of the materials, but there was one thing that looked unfamiliar. Some kind of plate with an erlenmeyer flask. 

Sucking up his pride, Donnie pokes at your shoulder from behind. 

“What’s that?” He whispers. 

His voice was so quiet, so polite. It kind of threw you for a loop. Turning around, you give him a small frown. “What’s what?”

“That. That thing.”

He points over your shoulder, and you feel your frown grow into a smirk. Maybe you could tease him like he did to you earlier. Feigning naiveté, you look him in the eye. 

“I’m kinda busy here, Don.”

He heaves, picking up the plate and shoving it into your smug face. 

“You know what I’m talking about! This thing that spins the liquid? I ascertain that it’s some kind of magnetic stirring device.”

Donnie moves it around in his hands, regarding with a cold, scientific stare. It doesn’t really do much to cover up the blush forming on his face. You smirk even harder, lowering his hand. 

“The…magnetic stirrer?”

His eyebrows shoot up, looking from you back down to the plate. It wasn’t that straight-forward, was it? You looked pretty serious so Donnie takes you at your word. 

“I see.” He cocks his head to the side. 

You feel your heartbeat thrum in your chest watching him. He looked so enraptured with his head tilted like that, almost like a dog when it hears a new sound. If Donnie had ears, they would most certainly be perked up. You don’t bother to hide the warm smile that forms as you continue to enlighten him. 

“You just put a magnetic doohickey in the flask and turn it on. I like it when the little tornado happens.” You grin, spinning your finger around to illustrate your point. 

“Yeah, that part’s pretty cool.” Donnie nods and hands you the plate while holding onto the flask. The so-called ‘magnetic doohickey’ was just a little pill knocking around the bottom, and he spins it around in his hand, watching it clink against the glass. 

You stand there for a second, him looking at the flask and you looking at him. You were both equally captivated.

After a while, Donnie realizes that you were probably waiting on him to hand you the flask. You were staring at him, after all. What other reason would you have to do that?

“Sorry,” he coughs, handing it back. 

He looks you in the eye as you take it from him, your love-struck gaze nearly knocking him on his ass. He’s never seen that look on you before? At least, he didn’t think so. Donnie wasn’t that great at reading facial expressions either, but with your tinted cheeks and lowered eyelids, you were either drunk or coming down with something. 

His heart dances in his ribcage as you walk past him, leaving him absolutely dumbfounded. You get even more comfortable when you take down your hair that you had pulled up into a loose bun. Your locks were a bit messy, but to Donnie they looked so inviting. He wondered how it would feel to touch your hair, just to see how it felt. For…scientific purposes. 

“Enough science for today. I wanna relax…” You sigh, looking around the lab. “You don’t mind if I still keep floating around your space?”

You looked back to see Donnie absentmindedly wringing his hands together in worry. Or was he rubbing his palms together menacingly? You couldn’t really tell.

Donnie stammers a bit before shoving his hands into his pockets. Or at least at the side of his legs. He kind of forgot that he didn’t have any pockets. It was just the best bad-boy pose he could think of on the spot. Eventually, his hands flounder about until they land behind his head. 

“Do what you will.” He tosses a lazy look your way before marching away. 

“Sure.” You chuckle, strolling over to follow him. 

You were used to following behind Donnie, you always kind of felt like you were trying to catch up with him most of the time anyway. His legs were just longer than yours, giving him a quicker gait than you. You were physically different in a lot of ways, obviously. Intellectually, you felt a little bit behind him as well. Sure, you were smart. You wouldn’t be where you were in college if you weren’t. But more than that, the fact that Donnie saw you as that much of an equal that he let you into his lab so much, let you watch him work on his own projects, it was secretly one of your favorite things you got to do with him. 

You would never tell him that, of course. But you were grateful for Donnie taking the time to show you so much of his private life. It was a little piece of him that not many people got to see. You looked up to him, for better or for worse. 

Walking behind him, you find yourself in a completely new environment. You knew he was expanding his lab all the time, slowly renovating more and more of the abandoned subway tunnels that the turtles called home. But this room was practically a greenhouse! There were countless plants covering the walls, pots and rows of soil laid out in a very organized fashion. So Donnie-like, this couldn’t have been anyone else’s handiwork. 

“Didn’t know I was into gardening, huh? I know, it’s a bit of a shock to most people.” He smiles and stretches his arms out, presenting his organic creations to you. “Behold, my oasis.”

You have half a mind to tease him about it a little. You really didn’t have any idea that he had a passion for plants. You expected to see a man-eating plant, “Little Shop of Horrors” or something like that. But, it was just a regular garden. You marvel at the wide variety of produce he was growing. 

“I didn’t know you had such a green thumb. Well, greener.”

You spin around, taking in all the sights. There were pumpkins, watermelons, carrots, anything and everything you could imagine. Maybe you wouldn’t ever have to go to the grocery store again. 

“Isn’t it magnificent? I’m most proud of the tomatoes, I think they’re just starting to ripen.” Donnie smiles, leading you over by the small of your back to the planter on your left. 

You don’t miss the little bit of physical touch he gives you. Back when you both weren’t as good of friends, you sort of kept a tally of how many times Donnie would instigate a handshake, a hug, anything physical really. You told yourself it was simply for research, but you knew you were lying. 

“Ohh, nice.” You coo, looking over at the tomatoes. Most were still in the early stages, too small and too green to eat just yet. But there were a couple that were ready. You poke at one hanging on the vine. 

“I need to adjust the humidity though. It’s getting a little too hot for the poor things.” 

Donnie taps at his tech gauntlet, adjusting the temperature in the room remotely. Looking down at his wrist, you get a sneaky idea. You haven’t really tried outright flirting with him before, content to just daydream and doodle your crush away. You thought it would go away eventually if you just ignored it. But, it didn’t. And you wouldn’t know if it was worth it or not if you didn’t at least try. 

While he’s still distracted by his screen, you casually try to lean up carefully against the planter. Placing your hands upon the curve of your waist, you playfully wink at Donnie when he looks back up. 

“Aren’t I a hot little tomato?”

You see several thoughts flash behind Donnie’s eyes as he looks you up and down. He looks almost frantic, before finally settling on abject disgust. 

“That is vile.”

Not one to pass up a challenge, you level him with a little kissy face and pop your foot. “Hey, I remember someone mentioning they had a childhood crush on Cheery Tomato.”

Donnie purses his lips. There you went, being annoying again. Even he knew flirting when he saw it right in front of his face. Yes, he did have a proclivity for people who were cute and mean. He hated to admit it, but you fell right into that category. 

“Perhaps I did.” He admits, rolling his eyes. 

You strike another pose, jutting out your hips to emphasize their presence. “And Atomic Lass?”

“My queen…” Donnie sighs, clutching at his chest dramatically. He couldn’t deny his history of fictional crushes. 

“Who would have guessed you had strange tastes?” You drop the coquettish act and go back to a neutral stance. 

Judging by the way Donnie was looking at you, with a little less revulsion, you figure that your attempt to flirt wasn’t a total wash. You’d have to keep trying though, you definitely needed more data points. You watch as he briefly attends to his other plants, checking their water levels and taking notes on their growth. 

“Be that as it may, you are not a quote, unquote ‘a hot little tomato.’ Tomatoes aren’t that attractive of a fruit.”

As he moves to the pumpkins on the ground, he pulls out a piece of tailor’s tape to measure their circumferences. If he was going to grow the world’s largest gourd, he’d have to step up his game. Thinking about plant food and soil salinity management was the only thing keeping him from getting worked up about the way you were standing there. With your stupid, attractive hips and your sultry ways. Why was he so weak to your feminine wiles?

“So what fruit am I exactly? A sassy strawberry? A plucky peach? A beguiling blueberry?” You crouch down next to him, playfully bumping his shoulder. 

His eyelids drop looking over at you. Two could play at that game. 

After giving some serious thought, Donnie tried to compare you to the most applicable fruit. The most obvious answer to him would probably be something more unconventional, like a passionfruit. You were very passionate about most things, be it schoolwork or your shared interests. It was honestly the most attractive thing about you. But that would be too easy. 

“You’re…much more of a meddlesome melon.” He smirks, rubbing at his chin with his thumb and forefinger.

Your sensuous smile drops as soon as the words leave his mouth. If there was a sound effect to encapsulate the mood right now, it would be a pane of glass breaking. Or a car crashing.

You stand up so quickly you almost fall over. “A MELON?”

Somehow unaware of your shock, Donnie goes on. He felt Don Suave all of the sudden, a new twinkle in his eye. 

“Yes. Sweet, edible, fleshy.” He purrs, shooting you a lurid smirk. 

Did he really not realize what he was saying right now? Unconsciously, your eyes drop to look down at your chest, then back up at Donnie. 

“I beg your pardon?” You inquire. You’re almost impressed by how shameless he was being. Almost. 

Once again, you see Donnie try and put the pieces together in his mind. Slowly, it dawns on him. The inherent insinuation, the unintentional innuendo. For a split second, his eyes follow yours, down to your–

“Gah—! T-That’s not what I meant to say! I guess my mind just kind of went to—“

He puts his hands out, trying his best to placate you. But he quickly pulls them away, seeing how he was accidentally gesturing toward your chest. His face goes bright red, rivaling the hue of his prized tomatoes. 

You blush, covering yourself up. “Stop talking about my boobs, dude!” 

You’re not really angry with him, and you can’t help but start to laugh. Especially seeing the terrified expression on his face as he runs away from you, back out into the lab. 

“FORGET I SAID ANYTHING!”

“Pfft–!” You chuckle, chasing after him. “No wait, come back!”

You have to book it to catch up with him again. You’re afraid you might have traumatized him by the way he’s curled up underneath his work table. You get on your knees again and crawl toward him. Like a feral cat, he scrambles away before you get too close. 

“Well, it’s been nice chatting with you but, gosh, would you look at the time? I really should be getting back to…science stuff.” He clasps his hands together and paces around to the other side of the table. 

You poke your head out and look up. “Science stuff?”

“Yes, yes. Now off you go!”

Taking the opportunity, Donnie grabs you by your hands and lifts you off the ground, leading you toward the doors. You gasp, feeling him so easily move you around. 

“I can do science stuff too, y’know. Why can’t we do it together?”

Donnie gives you an exasperated look before picking up the pace. “Because you’ll distract me.”

“Oh, will I? Are my melons really that meddlesome?” You make yourself into deadweight, causing Donnie to actually use some force to pick you back up. 

With an impish smile, you watch as his face contorts with barely contained rage. 

“I will resort to physical violence.”

“I would love to see you try.”

Oh, you were really working on his last nerve. With no hesitance, Donnie lifts you up by your wrists and spins you out into the middle of the lab. Your head swims a bit at the sudden motion and you start to see stars. You hear Donnie grab for his tech bo and switch it to its full length, readying himself into an offensive position. 

If Donnie couldn’t best you with a battle of wits, he would just have to prove himself in an actual battle. 

“We may be evenly matched in terms of intelligence, but so soon you forget that I am also a ninja and a master of the mystic arts?”

He smirks, challenging you. After you come back to your senses, you take a moment to see if he was joking or not. You usually knew when Donnie was serious, and he seemed pretty serious. You didn’t have any ninja skills to speak of, so you were suspicious. He wouldn’t attack someone so cute and defenseless, would he?

“You’re all talk, purple. Let’s see if you can back it up!” You shout, shifting your foot placement to blade yourself to him. 

Donnie and you stare daggers into one another, waiting for someone to make the first move. Looking at you draw your hands up into fists, he gets a much-needed reality check. He wouldn’t actually use his bo on you. Even he was above something so boorish. 

However, he wasn’t above using other means of subduing you. His eyes flit over to your backpack, then back up to his own collection of chemicals. He quickly pads over to his stockpile, throwing the cabinet open and cackling like a mad scientist. 

“What the–?” You turn your head, watching him rifle through a bunch of unlabeled containers. 

“I’ll show you. I can create bioweapons just as good as you.” He chuckles, his eyes going dark and sinister.

You suddenly feel yourself become a little threatened. But, you try to keep your cool. Surely he wasn’t going to do weird experiments on you or anything. Not that you wouldn’t let him, in a much less hostile context. 

Huh, where did that come from? You shake your head and turn to fully face him. 

“Oh yeah? What are you gonna do, make elephant toothpaste?” You joke. 

Donnie chuckles lowly, taking two unmarked plastic jugs in his hands. He didn’t really remember what was what in his cabinet, he was still in the process of alphabetizing everything by elemental names. That wouldn’t stop him from unleashing a little bit of hell on you though. 

“Mere child’s play! Watch as I combine a simple pnictogen hydride with some sodium hypochlorite, and…” 

Your eyes go wide, and Donnie reaches for an empty beaker at his desk. For a smart guy, he was honestly kind of stupid. You step forward and put your hands on his his, stopping him before he manages to pour the liquids. 

“Wait, that’s ammonia and bleach.” You frown. 

Donnie shakes his head and chuckles at you again, a little more condescendingly. “You’re quite astute, but I suppose the layman's terms are more your speed.”

Okay, maybe you would die, but you really wanted to punch him right now. 

“You’re making chloramine gas.”

He looks down at the containers for a moment before his eyes slowly meet yours. “Which is…?”

“Donnie,” you sigh. “It’s mustard gas.”

You mourn the fact that Donnie’s education was basically all self-driven and restrained mostly to what he could find on the internet. But you thought it was kind of common knowledge that you should never mix household chemicals like that. Donnie’s irises shrink, suddenly cognizant that he was this close to making a lethal gas. 

“…Ah.” 

He stills, about to put the ammonia and bleach away. 

Then you both watch in slow motion as the tiniest drops from each container spill out and drop into the beaker. With lightning-fast speed, you launch yourself onto the table and shove the entire piece of furniture out of the way. With a loud crash, the beaker shatters onto the floor and the two potentially deadly drops land somewhere on your shirt. In your haste, you fall unceremoniously to the floor as well. 

“Oww…” You hold your hand, a sharp pain shooting up your right arm. 

“JESUS CHRIST!” Donnie shouts, picking you up and moving you to the counter. 

He makes quick work looking you over, assessing your injury and making sure you’re not too hurt. 

“Look up, how many fingers am I holding up?” He points up all six of his fingers to wiggle in your face. 

“Less than ten, like usual. I’m fine, I promise.” You smile, shaking out your wrist. “Just landed a little wrong. But what about you? Were you trying to kill us all?”

Donnie sputters, bringing his hands down to look at them. They did almost kill you, even if it was by accident. 

“I don’t understand. How did I not realize?”

Sometimes, Donnie couldn’t see the forest for the trees. He was so preoccupied with flexing his stupid knowledge on scientifically accurate chemical names that he didn’t even realize what he was doing. His hands drop to his sides, feeling positively shameful. 

You feel your heart sink a bit seeing him so dejected. With a gentle kick to his side, you try and console him. 

“Because the only thing bigger than your brain is your ego.” You quip. 

When Donnie doesn’t reciprocate your joke, you realize maybe now wasn’t the best time for it. 

He rubs at the side of his arm, too embarrassed to even look you in the eye. 

Sighing, moves to sit beside you on the edge of the counter. “I guess I just have a little too much intelligence.”

You give him another little nudge, bumping your foot against his. 

“Not a whole lot of wisdom.”

Finally, Donnie looks up at you. The DND reference isn’t lost on him, and he smiles a bit.

“Sorry for almost killing you. I want to say it won’t happen again, but…” He scratches at the side of his face awkwardly. 

“It’s fine. I’ve accidentally made poison plenty of times. Just let me handle the chemicals from now on, okay?”

You reach your hand up and stop just before you touch Donnie’s back. You knew he was really sensitive about people messing with his natural, leathery shell. You don’t want to make the comparison to him having a tough exterior that housed a soft, sensitive inner self, but you can’t deny that it’s an apt comparison. 

When Donnie realizes that you’re asking for his permission, he gives you a small nod. He’s actually a little touched that you’re being so delicate with him, when all he’s done is be unnecessarily rough and callous with you. 

With the lightest touch, you pat him on the top of his shell. The velvety, slightly ridged texture was such a contrast to his brothers’. It feels a little weird, but nice. 

Those wretched butterflies return to Donnie’s stomach, as well as the blush on his cheeks. He couldn’t really refute it any longer. Now that he was feeling you pet him so tenderly, he realized the answer that was staring him in the face all along. 

He had a crush on you. A massive, embarrassing, debilatating crush.

After a minute or two of Donnie staring unabashedly at you, you try to break the tension. 

“What?” 

Without breaking eye contact, Donnie murmurs softly to you. “Nothing.”

You pull your hand away and place it back on your lap, twiddling your thumbs. You look around the lab, thinking of how best to navigate this situation. Donnie was giving you major heart eyes right now, even if he didn’t realize he was. Maybe you would have to be the one to take the lead on this. 

“Seems to be a lot of chemistry going on around here lately.” You raise your hand up and cough into it, peeking back over to Donnie. 

“C-Chemistry?” He stutters. 

In his head, a million thoughts raced. Donnie had an internal dialogue with himself, trying to figure out the next course of action. 

Oh my god. Did you just stutter?

No, this is not happening. Keep it together, man.

This is just playful banter. Don’t think about it like flirting. Now say something, anything!

After the voices in his head quiet down, Donnie takes a deep breath and says the first thing that comes to his mind. 

“You’re pretty.”

You stop looking around the room, angling your head back to him. “What?”

Without thinking, Donnie tries to backtrack. He did think you were pretty, he really did. But playing the role of the emotionally distant loner just wouldn’t let him give you a genuine compliment. 

“Pretty dumb! Hahaha, just kidding! Unless?” He spits, folding his arms and laughing awkwardly. 

Okay, anything but that.

You watch as sweat begins to bead on his face, almost making his bandana darken in color. Donnie was a bit of a novice when it came to flirting, apparently. It was sweet. 

“You’re pretty dumb too. Pretty and dumb.” You smile, scooching closer to him. 

Abort mission. Disengage, Donatello. Don’t make it worse!

Donnie unfolds his arms and waves his hands around, defaulting to lecturing you instead of acknowledging your flirty comment. Info-dumping was sort of his only form of defense at this point. 

“Love is just a mix of dopamine and oxytocin. Therefore, I am not in love with you. I am just feeling a chemical imbalance within my brain.” He states matter-of-factly. 

With a mock gasp, you put your hand to your mouth. “That’s awful! Do you think it’s contagious?”

Donnie’s eyes search your face, not reading your tone at all. “That’s not— do you not know how the hypothalamus works?”

You’ve had just about enough of this cute charade, and you slide until your thighs are flush with one another. It shuts Donnie up completely, and your eyes meet. 

With a cheeky smile, you lean even closer to his flustered face. “I don’t think you know how any of this works.”

Donnie’s face shifts in a multitude of shades, going from jade to scarlet. It’s a little weird to see a turtle blush, but you kind of liked it. But you didn’t want to torture the poor guy any longer, deciding to just cut right to the chase. 

“For your own sake, I’m going to say this as plainly as possible: I have a crush on you.”

“Oh.” Donnie’s eyebrows raise. He’s a bit astonished, but he’s grateful for your straightforwardness. 

So far so good, now to go in for the kill.

“May I kiss you? On the mouth. Sorry, I don’t know why I had to specify that.”

You blush in spite of yourself. You were usually pretty smooth, but for some reason Donnie’s dopey look was making you weak in the knees. 

Donnie wets his lips a bit, growing slightly more aware of how dry they felt.  

“Maybe just…mouth adjacent? To start with.” He shudders.

Donnie couldn’t believe it, but he felt all the tell-tale signs. Heart palpitations, limbs tingly and numb. He thought he was having some sort of episode. 

“Sure,” you smile. 

As you close the gap between you two, you make sure to just narrowly avoid hitting his lips. You gently place a kiss upon his cheek, lingering there for a bit longer than you ought to. To your delight, you feel Donnie’s tense shoulders immediately relax when your lips touch his skin. 

“My god.” He sighs, leaning into you. 

With thinking, Donnie starts to twist his head around. He thought he would be able to control himself from jumping straight into it, but your warm breath on his cheek was just too much. 

As he turns his head, you move yours as well. 

“Wow, I didn’t think I was that good.” You chuckle against his chin. 

Donnie doesn’t even have enough of his faculties to give you a snide retort, too blissed out to speak. He somehow blushes even harder. 

“Aah…” A soft sigh was all he could muster. 

Jesus. Donnie was kind of cute when he was shy. Taking his silence as your okay to keep going, you cover every inch of his face in kisses. He never said you couldn’t smooch him multiple times. You grab him by the sides of his headgear and plant a couple more onto the vast expanse of his forehead, making him giggle.

“Ghehehe!” He chortles. 

You stop, pulling away to look him in the eye. It seems that it took you both by surprise. 

His eyes then begin to shift around nervously. “Uh…I didn’t mean it.”

“Aww!” You gush, smooching him on his snout. “Muah, muah, muah!” 

“Hey, quit it already!” 

Donnie shakes you off of him before pulling your hands away. He doesn’t realize the position he’s put you in, holding your wrists to the side and allowing him to tower over your form. You have to crane your neck just to maintain eye contact. 

“Sorry, too much?” You give him a lopsided smile. “I didn’t realize you were such a hothouse flower.”

He nearly chokes hearing you call him such a delicate term. But you were unfortunately right, Donnie was vulnerable around you. More vulnerable than he let himself be around anyone else. His annoyance fades away looking down at your slightly flushed expression. 

“It's weird, you’re like a whole person, who likes me…and I didn't create you in a lab. You’re real.” He smiles, a genuine show of his true emotions. 

“What was that?” You wouldn’t just let him slip in that bit without a questioning look.

With a small chuckle, he drops your wrists. “Nothing.”

You absentmindedly bring your hands up, your fingertips brushing against your lips. You just realize you just confessed to Donnie, after nearly years of pining after him. Where did you stand now?

Donnie, feeling a little more comfortable, lets his head fall a bit. His forehead knocks against yours. He didn’t know how, but he figured he should probably give you some sort of response. 

“I don’t hate you.” He hums into your hair, covertly reveling in your scent. “I mean, you know…”

You smirk. “Not exactly the declaration of love I was expecting. I suppose I should take that as a compliment though.”

“That’s the idea.” He sighs, snaking his arm around your waist.

You don’t mind Donnie sublimating a more traditional ‘I love you too’ with some physical touch. Maybe that was just how he communicated his feelings that were too big to put into words. You understood, without having to tease him too much. You’re happy just to be this close to him. 

You make the move to place a hand on his upper thigh and return his embrace, hoping your touch was enough to tell him he was doing just fine. He still seemed a little nervous about holding you like this. 

“I’ve never given you a compliment before.” Donnie muses to himself, moving his other hand up to pet your head. “Now that I think about it.”

“That’s absurd, of course you have!”

You try to list out an example…but you honestly couldn’t think of any. Your mouth opens and closes dumbly, making Donnie laugh. 

“See? I’m bad at this.”

While he’s preoccupied with his private pity party, you reach over to his other leg and swing Donnie so that his legs lay on top of yours, effectively making him sit on your lap. The audacious move startles him, and his arms wrap around your neck seemingly by themselves. 

“If I may be so bold…” He blushes, pushing your head into his chest. “I have a feeling you’re going to be working in my lab a lot more now.”

“You’re not as dumb as you look, Donnie.” You smile, cuddling up against him. 

You’d be doing a lot more in his lab, but it probably wouldn’t be studying. 

taglist: @saspas-corner

[winns-stuff]

Two things:

1 a. I don't think kidding someone's feet automatically equals foot fetish. If you have someone a kiss on the shoulder doors that mean you have a shoulder fetish?

1 b. Even if he does, that didn't automatically make him evil or a creep. Kinks and fetishes are not moral indicators and acting like they do is juvenile. It might not be for you, or even make you uncomfortable, and that's okay. Live and let live.

2. I don't think it's fair to call Persephone a homewrecker when:

a. Minthe and Hades were not exclusive. Minthe was sleeping with Thanatos - Hades' adoptive son - and Hades was sleeping with Hera anyway.

b. Minthe was emotionally, verbally, and physically abusive to Hades. I feel like everyone forgets that she literally hit him. He shouldn't have been in that relationship anyways.

Okay first off, I’m sorry if I made it seem like I was kinkshaming at all. I was honestly just joking about that comparison and one of the main reasons why I said that it reminded me of Dan Schneider and that I was repulsed was because of the “creepy” aspect of it being placed in there, it was around the end that the person said that the kink seemed like it was only given to creepy guys. I don’t care about kinks genuinely and trust me I do mind my business when it comes to those things, again my apologies if I did come off immature.

But you’re right, his kink doesn’t make him a creep but the fact that he literally is creepy, manipulative, and an overall messed up person makes him a little bit more warranted for those kinds of comments since that’s literally how he represents himself in the comic. Hades is a slave owning, hypocritical, child neglecting, abusive, and overall tyrant to everyone who’s not kissing his ass and it’s not me exaggerating it’s literally just how he is that’s him as a person overall.

And I do think it is fair to call Persephone a homewrecker based on the very fact that they were seeing each other and breaking a lot of boundaries after Hades and Minthe officially made it official. Mind you, it was Hades who wanted to close the open relationship so yeah now seeing other people and touching them beyond the appropriate interaction between an employee and boss especially is now inappropriate and not something that you can just wave the “we’re not in a closed relationship” card at. Also, by definition Persephone was one of the sole reasons that Minthe and Hades broke up since Minthe started noticing just how overly affectionate they became with each other while working so yes, she is a homewrecker. She broke a home and please don’t comment by saying “there was never a home in the first place” because there was, you can’t just give homewrecking and emotional cheating a pass because you don’t like the character they still had history.

Also, trust me when I say no one forgets that Minthe hits him. Every single time I post about Minthe I make sure to acknowledge the fact that I don’t condone her actions and actually a lot of critics do as well since there’s a lot of people like you (not saying this in a bad way by the way) that do believe that many people are Minthe stans every time you discuss her without stating that fact. But even though yes, it was a fairly toxic relationship on both sides and they should’ve broke up much sooner like I said before there was still a relationship there that they were both in. It’s still emotional cheating and homewrecking on Hades and Persephone’s part, also Persephone doesn’t even know how Minthe treated Hades she just never cared about her feelings to begin with and pursued her boyfriend basically.

Also last thing but do you know what slap everyone does tend to forget a lot? Hecate when she slapped the ever loving shit out of Hades, now I’m not saying since that happened just forget about Minthe’s behavior at all but I am saying that we should all react to that slap the same. We all agree that it’s never okay to put your hands on someone so why should we condone it when it’s not Minthe?

[river-blue]

RUSAME HEDCANONS🇺🇲🇷🇺

- Their relationship was a slow burn of them having to be civil towards eachother for the sake of everyone around them, slowly realizing they have things in common, slowly starting to hangout more on their own accord, realizing they may have more than platonic feelings for eachother (they were attracted to eachother for a while, they just thought it was hatred). The confession would be less of a confession and more of a boiling point where they both act on their feelings

- I think Russia actually would have realized his feelings first, he would just deny them for longer (internalized homophobia :/)

- Even after they act on their feelings, they wouldn't immediately be official, but they would get more flirtatious (really just America would be more flirtatious and Russia would tolerate it more). They would start going to eachother's houses more, not really going past making out or anything though.

- the way they become official is a casual conversion of America just being like "I actually really like you. So to be clear, you are my boyfriend." And Russia's just like "okay. Don't think that's how you're supposed to ask but. Okay."

- Also, I rly don't like when people make America in in the ship like uwu soft gay twink bottom...like that's just...not it. First off, if either of them are actually gay gay, it's Russia. Bro has never enjoyed a tit in his life. Secondly, they're both extremely strong, scary ass world superpowers (which is also partially why I think they work, they're on equal footing), neither of them are super submissive or twinks

- I think in the early stages of their relationship they were really bad at expressing their love through words, especially Russia. So, physical affection became more important to them. They would slowly improve on this, especially after they exchanged their first "I love you"s, but they're still much better with actions than words (they're also both touch starved so)

- !TW for references to sex! Listen, honestly this topic kinda makes me uncomfy but I do wanna share my headcanons...I said before I don’t view either of them as very submissive, this is true in general and in bed. They both view themselves as very dominant and act try to act that way. At the end of the day tho...not to get to graphic but, one of them has to take and it is America (usually). But he's like, very annoying about it, and still tries to be in charge. Also the reason it is America is in large part becuase Russia still has issues with his sexuality so Russia (usually) is more uncomfortable being in the other position. Okay back to our regularly scheduled program

- I actually don't have anything more rn, might add more later

[littlesparklight]

Some headcanon thoughts on the Trojan royal family in Priam's era:

-All those kids? Definitely a trauma response/coping method from Priam. Sure, his whole family didn't get wiped out (he's got three brothers right beside him in the Iliad lol and they have sons themselves!) but that doesn't mean the near obsessive need for as many children as possible still isn't one.

-Since they married up until death, Hecuba hasn't just been his official queen and primary wife, but Priam's most loved one. (Consequently, he probably has basically no actual relationship to his secondary wives and concubines, who mostly can live their lives in their own miniature families with what children they might have. Hecuba probably has more of a relationship to all those additional women than her husband does!)

-He divorced Arisbe, daughter of Merops, because she was not going to accept being bumped down to a secondary status just because he had fallen in love with and found a "better" match in a Phrygian princess. So he finds her another marriage where she'll remain the sole/most important wife.

-While it's seriously unlikely Priam and Hecuba would be capable of being full time parents to +19 children, especially in any equal sort of fashion, I do think their children are the ones who actually got to know especially Priam as a father the most. They're both good to fair hands at being actual Parents, actually, but the favouritism is probably pretty obvious (good thing all the children undoubtedly have nurses, too).

-Talking of favouritism, Priam's sons by Hecuba (plus potentially another wife or two if we follow Hittite royal marriages where there can be secondary wives that can also have children eligible for the throne, but the concubines' are not) are probably the only ones eligible for the throne. It doesn't, however, mean you have to be child of Hecuba's to be shown favour or even become a favourite. Mestor is named in the Iliad as one of Priam's (dead) favourites, and we don't know who the mother is. She would not necessarily be Hecuba. Which means all the kids are aware that they all have an equal shot in gaining their father's attention, on some level.

-All the +50 (80? 100??) children probably form sibling/relationship constellations mostly contingent on how many siblings they have with their own mother, but not necessarily. Everyone, no matter the mother, probably has at least one half-sibling they're close with that might be a complete mystery to everyone else. Hence; Hektor being close to not just, say, Deiphobos and Paris but Kebriones and Mestor, and Paris being close to Lykaon.

-Deiphobos and Paris' relationship was shot from the start. Extremely obviously so if you go with the funeral games + murder attempt version! But I figure even in a more low-key reunion, they got off on the wrong foot to start with, Deiphobos not liking this RANDOM boy suddenly shoehorning himself into not just the family at large (could probably be acceptable), but as his full brother - and, more than that, taking some (as he saw it) of Hektor's attention away from him.

-Priam is, generally, a very accepting father. He can afford to be, having so many children; what does it matter if not all of them then live up to his personal expectations or social such? Grief, however, brings out all the edges; that is when he gets mean and any acceptance basically revoked, if only temporarily. If his anger has been stirred, it's somewhat similar, but not quite as sharply (especially not before the war, and especially especially not before Hektor's death).

-Hecuba spends the years between the birth to reunion low-key grieving Paris' "death". And so his survival is latched on all the more firmly. If one goes with the funeral games + murder attempt, where at least one version as we know it (one of the Alexander plays) has her wishing death on the slave/peasant who's upstaged her sons, she'd be even more guilty and relieved afterwards. Priam is less "obviously" affected, but his indulgence of his returned son afterwards is certainly testament enough to how he felt about having the infant exposed.

[penny00dreadful]

Spies AU - Part 5

Part 1 Part 6 AO3

23rd July 2015

Steve and Jonathan weren't exactly friends, but they had a cordial enough working relationship.

They rarely crossed paths in the hallways of The Agency.

Whenever he was in the building, Steve was almost always either in the training rooms or visiting Robin’s desk amongst the other analysts, who were usually less than happy to see him.

Field agents rarely visited their analysts while they were at work. Most had friendly relationships with one another, but they often met up after or in between work, never during business hours.

But Steve and Robin were one.

There were no office hours or out of office hours for them and every single molecule of Steve’s success as their top agent was just as much Robin’s work as it was his own.

But the other analysts were probably also unhappy with how loud they tended to get when they got lost in conversation.

Jonathan spent all of his time holed up in his dark room or in one of the gadget rooms, tending to his obscenely complicated cameras and lenses that Steve was, quite frankly, terrified of.

They just seemed so fragile.

And he had big, clunky, jock hands that didn’t have much deftness to them.

Unless he was styling his hair but that was a very well practised routine.

Steve wasn’t exactly nervous for the meeting he had set up with Jonathan to discuss the ‘project’ he had in mind but it was just…

How did the phrase go?

High-school never ends?

Yeah.

And like, they hadn’t gone to school together, they’d only met when they both started working for The Agency but it was clear just from looking at them what cliques they would have belonged to.

On one side the quiet, outcast weirdos.

On the other, the meathead jocks.

And there was the whole Nancy of everything too.

Nancy had started at The Agency at the same time Steve and Jonathan had and when going through her training, had been advised by mentors that she had both the high scores and the skill to excel either as a Field Agent or an Investigator.

It was a rare thing.

People usually had one thing they were really good at and then the other things they weren’t as good at, but still had a talent for were added on as an addendum to their skill sheet when being evaluated for early projects until they found their permanent footing.

Nancy was equally competent in the field and in Investigations so she’d bounced back and forth for a while, trying to decide which was right for her.

She’d gone on a few early missions with Steve and there was a mutual attraction there but long stakeouts taught them they didn’t have much in common and they didn’t really have anything to talk about, which was a must for Steve in a relationship.

But she and Jonathan seemed to get on like a house on fire.

When she was trying her hand at Investigations, they were seen together constantly, even when the job didn’t require them to be, always deep in conversation.

It had been obvious to Steve that the writing was on the wall and there was no ill will on his side.

Yeah, they’d had some casual flirtations and some close moments but that was it. She and Jonathan just seemed right.

But the rest of the office seemed to think he was going to blow a gasket over it.

Especially after Nancy officially chose to work in Investigations, making her choice of partner right along with it.

He’d been eyed warily by those in the room, like they expected him to club Jonathan over the head, throw Nancy over his shoulder and hide her away in his cave.

Which was ridiculous.

But no matter how hard he tried to make it obvious he didn’t care, apparently the teenage high-school jock stereotype followed him around like a bad smell.

A lot of the Analysts and Technicians and Investigators tended to view the Field Agents as hot heads who drank protein powder in their morning coffee and constantly measured their dicks.

It wasn’t the most inaccurate take Steve had ever heard.

But there was a reason he preferred to hang out with Robin rather than the other Agents.

The least of which was that Robin never asked him, between the two of them, who he thought had a bigger dick, it was obvious it was her.

Her strap-on’s were fucking monstrous.

Steve sat in one of the meeting rooms, five minutes before he was due to meet with Jonathan and they could start discussing what this surveillance job entailed.

But five minutes passed with no sign.

Then ten.

And another ten.

Steve huffed to himself, irritated and stood. Fine, he’d just have to go and find Jonathan himself.

He changed floors and walked down the hallways towards the rows and rows of dark rooms, until he got to Jonathan’s door.

The light above was off, indicating it was safe to come in and Steve knocked, crossing his arms and waiting.

When no answer came he tried the door handle and found it locked, keeping the sensitive information inside, away from prying eyes and meaning Jonathan was most likely not in there.

There were a few other places he could be.

At Nancy’s desk, in the cafeteria or in the Technology department.

Steve decided to start at the last one. At least if Jonathan wasn’t there, he could talk to Dustin and maybe try to knock some more sense into the kid.

Dustin was down bad for his supervisor Suzie. Completely gone for her and he gushed about her practically any chance he got.

There had been a few moments when things had nearly happened, according to Dustin but Suzie always pulled back and even though both she and Steve had explained to him (separately) that it was a bad fucking idea for him to get involved with his supervisor, there was a power imbalance and it could end catastrophically, the kid wouldn’t listen.

To Steve’s dismay, Dustin was nowhere to be seen, probably because Suzie was nowhere to be seen.

But at the furthest end of the room, sitting hunched over a metal desk with tiny bits of a disassembled camera strewn about him sat Jonathan, glaring down at something like it had personally offended him.

He didn’t look up until Steve was practically right on top of him.

“Steve?” He asked, confused, turning to look at the clock hanging on the wall, his eyes going wide. “Shit, sorry man. I don’t- I think it all got away from me. You still have time for that meeting?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.” He said, even though he was still a little miffed. He didn’t have anything better to do but Jonathan didn’t need to know that. “Our meeting room should still be free.”

After Jonathan had gathered all of his stuff and put it away, they walked back down the hallways in silence. It wasn’t exactly comfortable but it wasn’t the most awkward thing Steve had ever experienced either. 

Just as Steve had closed the meeting room door behind them, Jonathan turned to him.

“Not that I’m upset about it or anything but why did you seek me out specifically?”

Steve paused where he stood and took in him with wide eyes.

“Um…”

“It’s just…” Jonathan hesitated, crossing his arms, “surely you’d have a better connection with Nancy and she’s in Investigations so she’d be able to get more info for you.”

He looked almost nervous, like he expected Steve to wedgie him and leave him hanging off of a coat hook or something. 

Steve shook his head. 

“No, I couldn’t go to Nancy. You know what she’s like. She’d want to know everything. Why I need these people watched, who they’re connected to, what the connection was between them… all that and this is a very…” He sighed, throwing himself down in one of the chairs on the opposite side of the table, putting distance between the two of them, trying to placate Jonathan’s nervousness around him. “This is a very delicate thing. You, on the other hand, don’t tend to ask questions. You won’t dig deeper into the people I want you to survey, you won’t take risks and you won’t be seen.”

“Oh.”

“Not that that’s a bad thing!” Steve scrambled to explain. “It’s just I need this handled with finesse. You cannot be discovered. And Nancy doesn’t really do finesse, she’s more like a…”

“Like a sledgehammer?”

Steve snorted. “Yeah, that’s one way of putting it, I guess. But you know what I mean, she’d try to dig into the why of everything and put herself at risk of being discovered.”

Jonathan nodded. “Yeah, I get what you mean. Okay.” He sat himself down directly across from Steve. “Tell me what I’m looking for.”

3rd August 2015

Jonathan was good.

Jonathan was very fucking good.

When he’d asked Steve if he wanted just photo surveillance or if he also wanted video and audio too, Steve had stared just kind of dumbfounded. 

He didn’t think those last two were even options.

But here he was, sitting in front of his office desk, hundreds upon hundreds of minutes of video files and audio files in front of him along with thick folders in his lap of photographs taken at a distance from rooftops and around corners or through windows.

And they’d all been compiled chronologically along with small little notes added by Jonathan if something seemed noteworthy that happened as he was getting this info.

Steve’s four targets, Grant, Jeff, Gareth and Wayne were all here in full colour, practically telling their stories directly to him.

It felt a little creepy.

Almost like Eddie was a prospective date that Steve was looking into with way too much interest, like someone who wanted to wear his skin as a coat. 

But that wasn’t what this was. Eddie was the enemy. Steve was just gaining info about the enemy.

He was not being a creepy fucking stalker finding out everything he could about someone before they’d even kissed.

That would be just too fucking far.

Though he couldn’t deny it did kind of look like that. 

He pushed it to the back of his mind and rifled through the photos again.

He had already been through all of the files multiple times at this stage, clipping and saving the most important parts that told him their stories and had filled in any gaps along with his own research. 

Throughout it all Steve was hoping he could find an origin point for why Eddie was the way that he was now. 

Something that had pushed him to be able to be secret and silent and deadly.

He hit a completely dead end with Grant, Gareth and Jeff. All three of them dressed in the same kind of style. Dark and ripped clothes. Leather and plaid and chains and denim and wild hair and tattoos.

Out of the three of them Grant looked the scariest. He was a very tall and very large man with an impressive beard, covered head to toe in tattoos, piercings, pins and patches but the guy exuded teddy bear energy.

He was just a big ol’ softy. 

Jonathan had arrived into town and had begun observing Grant coincidentally on the same day as the anniversary of his mother’s passing. 

For the entire day Grant’s studio had been hopping with people. Tiny and weathered old church ladies, straight backed men in business suits, little kids and soccer moms all flooded in and out with a bouquet of flowers or a dish of something or a card in their hands for him.

And from the audio that Jonathan had managed to catch from inside, the gifts weren’t just to save face.

Many of the people would stay to tell stories or commiserate with Grant, tell him how sorry they were that he had lost his mother and how much they had loved her, how he had been such a good son to her at the end, how proud she was of him and how proud she would still be. 

It was adorable and not what Steve thought he’d be hearing from somewhere in Bumfuck Nowhere Indiana. Even the most snooty of Hawkins residents seemed to hold a soft spot for Grant’s deceased mom.

Even outside of his mother’s day of passing, the rest of the town was cordial and friendly to him, returning his jaunty waves or his smiles on the street.

There was one guy who seemed to call in on him more than the others, one guy who owned a flower shop right next door and seemed to keep him in constant supply of fresh flowers, delivering them every morning himself and then hanging around for longer than strictly necessary. 

It was cute. 

So in the end Steve doubted Eddie got his killer instinct from Grant Fogarty.

It was just as unlikely he became dangerous by hanging around with Jeff. If Grant was a giant teddy bear then Jeff was a big marshmallow. 

Like his other two friends, Jeff looked plenty intimidating. Tall and dark and covered in tattoos that could be easily hidden underneath a long-sleeved shirt that the guy wore to work at the fucking middle school as a music teacher because apparently Steve had never ever been right about judging a book by it’s cover before, not once.

He had misjudged Eddie, thinking he was safe when he was actually the most dangerous person he had ever met. 

He’s misjudged Grant and now he’d misjudged Jeff too because, based off of the chatter from inside the school walls, Jeff was far and away the teacher the kids loved the most.

He was calm, helpful, he explained things clearly and in a way the kids could grasp, he never raised his voice or got frustrated when it took the children a while to get a piece right and he also seemed to have gained himself the trust of some of the most ostracised kids.

More than once Steve had seen a kid be a victim of bullying or just having a really, really bad day, immediately make their way to Mr. Best’s music room where he’d comfort them and talk them down with low, soothing words and soft encouragement and Steve couldn’t help but think how different his own life might have turned out if he had a teacher like that growing up.

There was a student teacher at the school that Jeff seemed particularly close to as well , James. They were always walking the halls together or sitting with each other in the staff room.

On top of that, Jeff had an incredible voice. Masculine and raspy and lilting in a way that made Steve’s stomach tingle and he may or may not have kept most of those audio files to listen to on repeat.

So, okay, nothing there.

Maybe Gareth would have some more answers.

Except, nope. Because despite how mean and scary Gareth looked along with the other two, and despite the fact that he was clearly a little more crabby than them, he was still a sweet guy, quiet but sweet. 

There had been some kind of accident at the garage where he worked a couple of years ago, causing permanent nerve damage in his left hand and leaving him with a wealth of scars and putting an end to his drumming right along with it. But he was so well liked and had so much good will built up in the community, he was allowed to stay on at his job, even if it meant he worked a little slower than everyone else.

There was a curly haired, blondeish man almost always at his side, Bill, who helped him get most of his work done and the two seemed to be cordial to each other, a friendly enough working relationship.

Steve would have expected two people who’d worked so close to each other for so long to form something a little deeper but sometimes people didn’t click right and he couldn’t exactly begrudge Gareth or Bill that.

Okay, so Eddie had apparently grown up with incredible friends who were sweet and kind and didn’t go in for all that macho bullshit like so many friends did and his relationships seemed to be fucking perfect.

Steve scowled, staring down at the photos in his hands and thought again how different his life might have been if he’d grown up with friends like that. Friends that didn’t stand behind him and follow while he tried to play the part of the perfect little rich boy and actually seemed to have personalities of their own, refusing to bend to societal norms.

People who were all very much like Eddie, inside and out.

Throughout the chatter and audio he’d picked up, none of these friends had mentioned Eddie even once, at least not by name. He might have been referenced in conversation between the three of them whenever they met up for a few drinks, which was often, but Steve couldn’t be sure. 

If Eddie was mentioned when Steve suspected he was, it was always with a hint of resignation, or sadness. 

Like they missed him.

After all of this, Steve thought it had to be Wayne.

It had to be Wayne that put that survival instinct in him. It had to be Wayne who taught him to be quiet and crafty and able to fight.

Kids from abusive households usually had to change their personalities and keep their emotions in check to avoid the wrath of their guardians, to keep themselves safe and alive and Wayne had been to war.

Maybe Wayne had never been able to leave that war behind? It would make sense.

But again, for the fourth time in this part of his investigation, Steve was proven wrong.

Everything Steve had read about Wayne was true, he was a war vet, he had a laborious job, he’d been a farm boy in his youth, but what the records didn’t show was just how quiet and reserved and respectful that man was.

Even in his private moments when no one else was around, when there was something sudden that happened or something angered him, he never lashed out, he never got violent.

He just took a deep breath and moved on.

He was a man who looked and held himself like he was dangerous, but he was anything but.

He was a better man than Steve.

And where the other boys, the Hellfire boys, hadn’t spoken about Eddie directly, Wayne couldn’t seem to be able to shut up about him.

He talked about Eddie constantly.

He was so obscenely proud of his nephew, talking mostly to his dialysis nurse, Connie, who visited the trailer every few days to help hook him up to his machine, observe him and keep him company for the hours it would take.

She seemed like a pleasant enough woman around Wayne’s age with blonde hair but a relatively stern face.

She would sit and listen as Wayne talked about how Eddie got away from this shithole town, how he’d gotten himself an honest hard working job travelling the country as a demolitions expert (yeah right, nice cover), how good he was to pay for Connie to come here instead of Wayne needing to drive hours there and back to Indianapolis for his treatment along with tales upon tales upon tales of the most ridiculous shenanigans Eddie got up to in his youth.

Like the first time Wayne had to work an overnight shift when Eddie was fifteen. He’d been pumped at the idea that he would have the trailer to himself all night. The freedom had gotten to his head though and he had decided that he was going to eat his weight in chocolate chip waffles with marshmallows on top.

Wayne had come home to find Eddie bent over the toilet, throwing his guts up and swearing off marshmallow chocolate chip waffles for the rest of his life.

If Steve wasn’t already stupidly attracted to and into the guy, Wayne was making a hell of a good case for him and he didn’t even realise he was doing it.

Then Wayne mentioned the urban legend, the mythological figure around the town, the Shadow of Hawkins.

It was the second time Steve had heard the moniker, except now it was coming out of Wayne’s mouth and though he didn’t link the name to Eddie, said there was no evidence, it was all fear mongering and speculation because his boy was an outsider, didn’t play by ‘the rules’, it was clear Wayne knew a little more than he was letting on.

Abusive husbands mysteriously getting injured or arrested, exploitative employers suddenly getting arrested after evidence turned up out of nowhere, bullies and thieves and grifters stopping one day out of nowhere.

So Eddie was a bit of a vigilante back in the day.

A man with a clear moral compass who knew right from wrong even if the ‘right’ things he did were executed in the dark.

So what had happened?

When had Eddie turned bad?

Was he bad?

Well… Steve told himself that he couldn’t be sure. Eddie probably was because… well because they were on opposite sides. 

And Steve was on the good side and Eddie was on the bad side so that made him bad… right?

Right.

Steve slapped the photographs down on his desk and stormed out of his office. He needed to take his mind off of things.

“Birdie.” He said as he flipped the switch on his communicator and shrugged his jacket on.

“Dingus.” She replied. “Hopper’s gonna have your head if he finds out this conversation is not job related.”

“It’s very job related. I need to have a meeting with my guy in the chair. Drinks?”

“The local?”

“Yup. Meet you there in ten?”

“You got it.”

Part 1 Part 6 AO3

Divider by firefly-graphics

@geekymagicalpotato @estrellami-1

Big thanks as always to @hbyrde36 for the magnificent beta work and to the STWG for their motivation

[faetaiity]

Senor Heuso trying to help male reader to escape the turtles (Mikey the only love interest tho) and failing so they fuck him up??

sorry that I've been inactive lately, I had (have? idk) writers block, plus life is a shitbag, due to everything that is still plaguing me. Since you didn't specify Dark or Normal AU!, if Mikey is a Yandere, or if Y/N a mutant or not. I went with what I interpreted from your ask (and what would be easier to write, lmao)

Yandere! Dark AU! Michelangelo x Male! Yokai! (Species mostly ambiguous but implied to be a warm-blooded Animal, such as a Mammalian or Avian) Reader.

Story Format: Non-HeadCanon Oneshot(?)

CW: Yandere Behavior, Kidnapping, Mentions of Broken Bones and Blood, Forced Relationship (also bad writing lmaooooo)

P.S: I put some Spanish in here, but it has a translation next to it. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You fucked up. Big time.

It wasn't a debate, you screwed up the entirety of the past month or so, getting kidnapped by the brothers, the resident nutcase of their... Family falling madly in love with you and basically gluing himself to you.

You didn't know how to respond to Michelangelo, He would shower you in gifts and attention, and, due to you always responding Fearfully neutral, He assumed you felt the same way, no matter how many times you tried to tell him you didn't see him as an acquaintance, much less a Lover.

Because of his duties, he often left you alone in his room, which worked in your favor, as you often thought of escape plans, hundreds have gone through your mind since your kidnapping

And the perfect time to escape was tonight; you knew that if you managed to get free, out of the sewers and into the Hidden City, you'd be gone, you prided yourself on knowing all the entrance ways to said city, and that you know every single road, alley, subdivision and Foot-Clan free places there.

After 15 minutes or so, you managed to get out of the sewer safely, nearly getting caught by Splinter twice.

Sighing in relief as you finally got fresh air after God knows how long you've been down there

'How sad, that I lost count of the days' you thought, mournfully. You wondered if your Friends and Family missed you, because other than escaping, they're the only other thing you've thought about.

Lifting yourself out of the manhole, you instantly bolted into an alley way, your Animal instincts kicking in and telling you to find a safe place to stretch and recuperate, while the sentient and more rational part of your brain told you to just get the fuck out of there and make a plan to get to a safer place other than an Alley way.

You yawned, instantly stretching after what felt like years of being too afraid to move, lest you get hurt.

It took you a few seconds, but you ended up thinking about where you would go, sure, you knew you'd be safest in the Hidden City, but the minute Splinter found you gone, he would alert his sons to hunt you down, and the city would be the first place they look.

Similarly, to the Humans who wander the surface, the Police in the Underground have Corrupted Officials who would tell the Foot Clan the minute you stepped into their Line of Sight, or Worse, into the Station, and in turn, the foot clan would tell the Turtles.

You knew the danger of staying on the surface, but there was equal, if not more, danger underground, you groaned, thinking quickly, as you knew the turtles would be back any minute now

Then it hit you, Run of the Mill Pizza.

Your younger sibling (Or a friend/Family member's younger sibling) was friends with Hueso Jr, so you ended up going to the Pizzeria and ended up getting acquainted with Señor Hueso, his workers, and his family.

Deciding that he would be your best bet, you started sneaking towards the Restuarant. The walk there, as you calculated, was only about 20 minutes, but may be longer if the Turtles come back and start searching for you.

After a while, you ended up making it to the hidden entrance, quickly opening the portal, luckily, the sassy skulls on the portal seemed to understand your distress and opened quicker than they usually would.

Señor Hueso had his back to you, sweeping, before speaking in a mildly irritated tone

"Lo siento, pero estamos cerrados" (I am sorry, but we are closed.)

You stared for a second, you didn't understand Spanish, you knew that Señor Hueso had the habit of Defaulting to Spanish without thinking, as he was previously from The Painted City, it was smaller than the Hidden City, many people didn't know of the other Underground cities around the world, but The Painted City was centered in Mexico City.

"Mr. Hueso...?" you called out, unsure if you should leave or not, Señor Hueso froze at the sound of your voice, dropping the broom and whipping around to look at you

"...Y/N..?" he spoke softly, he knew you mostly from Hueso Jr, but even before his son Introducing you to him, he has known your family/Friends for years as regulars at the Restaurant, ever since he moved from The Painted City to the Hidden City, they would order their pizza from his family.

"Where have you been?! Your familia (Or friends if you have shit family) has torn up the Hidden City in search of you!" he attempted to come off as calm but ended up sounding like a parent Scolding their child.

You looked ashamed; you couldn't get out everything you wanted to say, simply because you couldn't find the courage or the words, so the only words that fell from your mouth were "I was kidnapped...."

He seemed to stay silent for a moment, trying to register your words, once he understood the severity of the situation he sighed

"Come on, Mi Hijo (My Boy), let us call your Friends/Family to bring you home." he grabbed your hand softly and guided you into the kitchen, once you both were in there, he let go of your hand and reached for the phone.

He could only dial the first number or so before a loud crash echoed from the main dining area

"Hijo de Puta..." (Son of a Bitch) he hissed under his breath, snapping his head over to you and (Bluntly) quietly said "Get in the island cabinets, don't come out unless I tell you to." before he shoved you towards the island in the middle of the Kitchen.

You quickly scrambled to get into the cabinet, trying to find a position where you could stay comfortably for as long as it took Señor Hueso to investigate the noise.

There was silence for a few seconds before a series of loud banging, shouting, and what sounded like a crunch happened.

"¡Pedazo de mierda!" (You piece of Shit!) you heard Leo shout, before continuing in Spanish; "¡Dime dónde está el novio de mi hermano pequeño!" (Tell me where my little brother's boyfriend is!)

"¡No sé de qué estás hablando, gilipollas!" (I do not know what you are talking about, asshole!) is all you heard before another crunch and a loud scream, you flinched, you knew if you went out that you would get taken back to the sewers, but if you remained then Hueso would die

'Sorry I didn't listen, Señor Hueso' you thought, but maybe he would forgive you, hopefully.

You stepped out of the cabinet, taking a deep breath before going out and mentally prepare to face possibly the worst scene.

You winced as you saw Señor Hueso's femur + one of his ribs were broken, luckily it would heal quickly as Yokais are known for taking only a few days to a week or two to heal broken bones.

Leo was torn up too, blood oozed from his arm, face, and leg, but without a doubt, Hueso's injuries were worse by Magnitudes.

"Leonardo!" was all you could muster to say to that horrible mutant, he whipped his head around and grinned at you

"Entonces, el niño decidió salir del clóset con su cuñado~" (So, the little boy decided to come out to their brother in law~) He purred out in a sickly-sweet manner.

Señor Hueso looked over at you as well, fury crossed his face for a split second before he saw your face, he knew what you were thinking, that this was the only way everyone would walk out alive, he winced in pity and empathy towards you, knowing that the minute you step out of the Pizzeria, you were at the mercy of the Four brothers, who were rumored (but was accepted as true) to never show kindness, compassion, and most of all; mercy.

The brother in blue walked over to you, grabbing you rather harshly and said, "You're lucky my brother is so head over heels for you, or I already would have put you down like a dog in the street." his tone was emotionless, he was stating a fact; like its cold outside.

He opened up a portal back to the sewer, but before he crossed the threshold, he looked back at Señor Hueso "Haz un truco como ese otra vez, y me aseguraré de que tu hijo no viva más allá de la escuela intermedia." (Pull a stunt like that again, and I will make sure your son doesn't live past middle school.) he said, coldly, as he threw you through the portal, before jumping in after you.

Michelangelo bolted over to you, instantly picking you up and whispering sweet compliments into your ears as he stole your oh-so-warm body heat.

"You couldn't have been a SMIDGE softer with my lover?!" Mikey hissed, already forming plans to baby you and make Hueso pay

"Would you rather me have not gotten him at all?" Leo shot back, which make Mikey shut up

Luckily for you (And rather unluckily for Hueso) Mikey wholeheartedly believes you were kidnapped; he couldn't fathom why you would EVER want to leave him, He's delusional

"Micheal." Donnie said, calmly getting his brother's attention, Mikey made a noise of acknowledgement, not wanting to take his eyes off of you

"Why don't you go get the First Aid Kit out of my lab for Leo" Donnie stated, Mikey sighed and got up, telling you he would be right back

Once Mikey was out of sight, you knew you were dead, Donnie, Leo, and Raph loomed over you, grinning cruelly; Leo squatted down to your height

"Do that again and I'll break both of your legs, you can fool Mikey because he loves you, but not us, we won't fall for your cheap tricks" Leo said with a glare, his brothers nodding

You knew you were never getting out of this.

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

Sorry it's ass.