#white chocolate is better than sawdust take

[real-fire-emblem-takes]

Celica x Faye is way better than Alm x Faye and I refuse to compromise on that

!

[lakesandquarries]

Jump the Fence Part Two: Ghost Out Of His Grave

chapter two: ghost in the world

summary: Benrey and Gordon adapt to living together. Some days are better than others.

notes: series title from “jump the fence” by mother mother. this part and the chapters within it are named after “ghosting” by mother mother.

PREVIOUSLY: gordon woke up in his apartment after leaving chuck e cheese only to find the rest of the science team has spawned as well. and then benrey showed up on his couch. gordon let benrey stay with with, stopped him from leaving in the middle of the night, and now they're sorta trying to be friends! IN THIS EPISODE: they go to target again

AO3 link

As soon as they step inside, Gordon remembers why he’d been putting off getting Benrey stuff. The first thing they do is ask to sit in the cart after watching a little kid get in, and as soon as Gordon explains that it’s not made for grown men (or whatever Benrey is) they try to climb into the main part of the cart.

He lets them push it, only for Benrey to nearly crash into a display within ten seconds.

“You are a disaster waiting to happen,” Gordon grumbles, grabbing the cart. “No, you’re a disaster actively happening.”

Benrey just gives him a sharp toothed grin.

“Okay. We’re here for clothing, right? Let’s just - Benrey!” They’ve already wandered off, into the makeup section of all things, holding up a tube of blue lip gloss.

“Says it’s candy flavoured,” Benrey informs Gordon as he maneuvers the cart through the narrow aisles.

“I’m not buying you that,” Gordon says. 

“Aw, why not? Don’t want me to look prettier than you?”

Is Gordon imagining things, or did Benrey just imply he’s pretty?

He shakes his head. “We’re here for clothes.”

“It’s like, $5.” Benrey pouts.

“I’m not made of money, dude.” Gordon pinches the bridge of his nose. Yeah, okay, he has a shit ton of money all of a sudden. But he also doesn’t have a job, so he’s not gonna blow all that money on whatever random shit Benrey wants. “Put it back.”

They grumble, but when Gordon’s managed to get the cart back out into the main aisle and Benrey’s next to him again, the lipgloss is gone.

Gordon doesn’t let Benrey out of his sight as he leads them to the Men’s section. “Don’t go too crazy. You can get like…five of each thing. Yeah, that seems like a good number.” Benrey huffs and rolls their eyes, but starts looking through the shirts, carefully considering each of them. 

“What’s with the...the dudes?” he asks, holding up a shirt with Invader Zim characters. 

“It’s from a cartoon,” Gordon says. “Have you never seen Invader Zim?”

Benrey puts the shirt back. “Uh. No.”

“Damn, I thought that would’ve been something you liked.” He glances over the other shirts, with an assortment of familiar characters. “What about this one? You know this guy?” he asks, pointing at a shirt with Spongebob on it. Benrey shakes his head. “You’ve never seen Spongebob? I thought that’d definitely be something you were into.”

“I know Spongebob,” Benrey says, grabbing the shirt to get a better look. “Didn’t recognize him all - crisp.”

“Crisp?”

“Yeah, y’know. He’s always like...lil fuzzy dude.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? What version of Spongebob were you watching?” It’s incredible how Benrey can turn anything into an argument, just by saying whatever bizarre thoughts pop into his head. 

“Spongebob! The little, the cartridge was like, green and white and orange, that’s how I could tell it apart from the others…” He’s gesturing with his hands, like he’s holding something. Like…

“Are - did you watch Spongebob on a fucking Gameboy Advance?”

“Yeah!” Benrey says, snapping their fingers with a grin. “Had some others, too. Shrek was the best.”

“They have Shrek on the - nevermind, that’s not important.” Gordon leans back against the cart. “What kind of weird ass childhood did you have that you grew up watching Spongebob on a Gameboy Advance?”

Benrey’s face drops. “A shitty one,” he mutters, turning back to the shirts.

Gordon winces, leaning back against the cart. Right. Bad question, Gordon.

He’s quiet as Benrey finishes picking out his clothing, and doesn’t say anything when it’s a bit more than he’d suggested. He doesn’t comment on how Benrey keeps blinking, shutting his eyes harder than should be necessary. 

Should he apologize? Would that make things worse? It’s probably a conversation better suited for when they’re home. Or maybe Gordon’s just a coward.

Either way, Benrey seems done, so Gordon leads him over to the checkout. There’s only a couple cashiers available, with long lines on both, so Gordon grabs a magazine to look over, Benrey peering over his shoulder.

It’s one of the weirdo conspiracy ones, because those are always at least mildly entertaining. It’s mostly the usual kind of stuff - some random celebrity secretly died, this other celebrity secretly didn’t - but tucked off to the side he finds one thing that really piques his interest.

“Experimental Lab Blown Up By U.S. Government?” is the headline, and it seems to be accusing Black Mesa of “unethical and dangerous science” and claiming the government had it blown up to “protect citizens”.

“Benrey,” he says, about to point it out to him, only to realize Benrey has completely vanished. “Shit,” he mutters, pulling the cart out of line. Fuck. Where the hell did they go?

Gordon retraces the route they’d taken, heading back to the Men’s section. There - by the fitting room, he thinks he sees a person in a gray beanie duck past an employee.

She seems pretty distracted, luckily. Gordon abandons the cart, darting past her. “Benrey?” he calls out, poking his head into the empty stalls.

There’s only one closed door, all the way in the back. Fuck, Gordon hopes he didn’t just chase down a random person. He knocks on the door. “Benrey? You in there?”

“No,” Benrey says.

Gordon sighs. “Benrey, c’mon, just open the door. Please?”

The door swings open. Benrey stands there, head tilted down like the floor is the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. He’s shaking slightly, shoulders up around his ears, a couple of those dark translucent bubbles Gordon saw the night before floating around.

Gordon stays in the doorway, chewing on the inside of his lip as he tries to figure out what to say. “What’s going on?” is what he settles with, trying to keep his tone gentle. 

“‘s nothing,” Benrey mutters, still not looking up. “Uh, uh, I. I got bored standing in line. Yeah.”

“Dude, c’mon. I’m trying to help.” He might be some kind of terrifying fucked up alien, but right now, Gordon just feels kinda bad for him. Something has him upset.  

“Maybe I don’t want help. Idiot.”

The insult doesn’t piss him off like it usually would. There’s no bite behind it. 

“Is this about the shirt?”

Benrey’s quiet for a moment. “I saw the - the thing you were reading. About - y’know.” Gordon doesn’t speak, waiting to see if Benrey will say more. “‘s stupid,” they mumble.

“It’s not stupid if it’s got you this freaked out,” Gordon says.

Benrey’s fidgeting with their hat again, tugging on the ends of it. “BM’s not s’posed to be real,” he says finally. “None of it was. I thought - I thought it’d stay not-real.” Their hands are trembling, and they stop fidgeting with their beanie, pressing their hands together instead. A few more dark bubbles slip out. “I don’t wanna go back.”

“Black Mesa’s completely destroyed, dude. No one’s gonna make you go back.” It’s such a bizarre flip from how Benrey normally is, Gordon has no idea how to handle it. “No one’s alive to make you go back.”

“I don’t wanna go back,” Benrey says again, this time more of a choked whisper. Oh, fuck, he better not start crying. This is awkward enough as is.

“No one’s gonna make you go back,” Gordon repeats. “I - I promise.” He rubs the back of his neck, hoping he’s saying the right things. “I won’t let that happen.”

Benrey pitches forward suddenly, burying their face in Gordon’s shirt. Gordon wraps his arms around them almost on autopilot, reminded of Joshua when he’s upset.

“Shit,” he whispers. “Okay, uh. Just. Breathe, okay? You’re fine. Everything’s fine.”

There’s a sniffling sound. Gordon pats their back. Benrey’s definitely crying - Gordon can feel his shirt getting damp. He starts rubbing circles into their back, the same way he does with Joshua. 

The two of them stand there a while longer, Benrey continuing to cry into Gordon’s shirt while Gordon mumbles awkward assurances, until finally they pull back. 

“You okay?” Gordon asks. Benrey nods, wiping at their face.

“Let’s go,” he says, pushing past Gordon out of the fitting room.

What the fuck, Gordon thinks to himself. Clearly this is something they’re gonna need to talk about more. But. Later, when Benrey’s less likely to burst into tears again. 

They get through checkout without any trouble. Gordon doesn’t bother looking at any magazines this time, instead taking a moment to send a text to Tommy asking what the shadow-y bubbles mean. Benrey’s quiet, attention caught by the candy selection. Gordon reaches past him, grabbing a couple kit kats and a bag of skittles and adding them to their stack of stuff.

Once they’re in the car, Gordon passes Benrey one of the kit kats. “You big on candy?” he asks, opening his own.

Benrey looks over it quizzically. “Only really had like, the little...the foil ones. With the paper. Hershey’s kisses.”

“Oh, those suck,” Gordon says, snapping the kit kat. “Hershey used to fucking like, put sawdust in their chocolate. I don’t trust that shit.”

Benrey’s mouth drops open, candy bar forgotten. “What? Tommy said those are the best kinda chocolate.”

“Listen, I love Tommy, but - he does not have the best taste. I mean, fucking coolattas?”

Benrey shakes his head. “Can’t trust anyone.”

Gordon snorts. “Look, try the kit kat. Tell me what you think.”

It’s moments like these when Gordon regrets interacting with Benrey. He unwraps the kit kat and, instead of breaking it, bites directly into it.

“Crunchy,” he says.

It’s not even worth it to say anything, is it? Gordon just sighs as Benrey eats, leaning back in his seat. When Benrey’s done mangling his kit kat, he goes to shove the wrapper in his pocket, only to start laughing. Gordon squints at him, trying to figure out what he’s doing, and Benrey pulls something out of his pocket. Something blue, and glittery.

“Motherfucker. Did you steal the fucking lip gloss?”

He peels the plastic off with his teeth, licking the applicator. “Doesn’t taste like the kit kat,” he announces.

“Not all candy is chocolate.”

Benrey frowns. “I think it just tastes like glitter.”

“Glitter has a flavor?”

The drive home is...peaceful. Quiet, but not the awkward silence from earlier. Benrey’s making his way through the bag of skittles, bubbles of brightly coloured Sweet Voice following each different flavor.

It’s a few hours later that Gordon gets a response from Tommy.

Dark like the shade means “I’m afraid”

[ellaofoakhill]

Oak and Stone, Part Two

Oak and Stone was a bustling town, with fey and creatures briskly going about their business. There were mice like Jasper here, as well as voles, weasels, ground squirrels, tree squirrels, stoats, a few bats, and many other creatures Ella knew.

As well as a few she didn’t.

Creatures like the lizards Ella had encountered on Gaea, or a bit more commonly on Fey. But no lizard she’d heard of had four arms. The smallest of these was a head taller than her. Tusks twisted down from their jaws. Their bodies were a uniform grey-brown or mottled green, with frills on their jaws and crests on their heads, which many had painted or tattooed or pierced with rings and studs. According to Meline, they called themselves drakles, and most of those in Oak and Stone were sailors.

What most surprised Ella about this place—unknown beings were really to be expected—was the abundance of elves. Well, relatively speaking; abundance was not a word that fit well with elves. But there were more of them here than Ella had ever seen outside of Fey. To be fair, impeccable manners and upturned noses aside, elves were known more than anything for their love of the sea. And the sea Oak and Stone did have in abundance.

Meline showed her down to the shipyards, where vessels from across this world—the drakles called it Nidd—docked and unloaded their goods. These went to the seaside market, a paved square by the water with a stream running through. The stream allowed smaller boats to paddle or pole into town and drop their goods right by the stalls.

There were fabrics Ella had never seen, some softer than velvet, others smoother than silk, still others so strong Ella’s knife couldn’t cut them; according to Meline, those needed crystal-edged scissors to cut into shape. There were spices alien to Ella’s nose and tongue, including one somewhere between lemon and banana that she particularly liked; Meline laughed at the incredulous delight that flashed across Ella’s face when she tasted it. There were strange rocks and shells, scales shed by massive beasts, and gems that seemed commonplace here which Ella had only read about. There was a wood here, one a fairy could mould with her bare hands while it was green—or, more accurately, orange—and once it seasoned became like fairy silver. Ella shaved the hair from her arm with a knife made from it. There were metals as well—the mayor had banned the import of iron for all but a few specialized purposes—but this claywood, as it was called, was so easy to work hardly anyone used any metal not found as a nugget.

The moonbeams were strange too. Nidd had four moons and two suns, and each moon made beams different not only from Gaea’s moon, but from Nidd’s other moons as well.

Beyond the market were shops. There was a shop bordering the market that sold crepes filled with berry and honeyed cream; Ella laughed at the white moustache on Meline’s upper lip. Another sold kebabs of sweet and spicy fruits, of roots savoury, sweet, and spicy, and of the spiced meats of different fish and insects, or whatever the equivalent was here.

There were shops that sold fine berry wines, cordials, and ciders, and shops that sold candied chocolate mixed with granules of nuts and dried fruits. There was stronger drink as well, but Ella had hardly more than a sip of a spiced liqueur that made her fingers and toes tingle. Too much made a fool of anyone, and Ella was in a town she didn’t know, in a world she didn’t know, surrounded by fey and creatures she didn’t know.

And Meline knew a great deal about this town in another world. Many shopkeepers and stall-owners in the market waved or greeted her by name, and she knew not only them, but their families, and how business was doing. And she presented it all masterfully.

After they were quite full, Meline led Ella across the bridge and out of the square. Ella had heard the sounds of industry from this section of town for some time, but she suspected Meline had been building toward this.

Ella worked a wide variety of metals, woods, and some fabrics, but would have freely admitted her grasp of other materials was lacking. She saw a water fairy weaving six different materials into one cloth, a mole and a frog setting gemstones into a brooch, a squat, spiny

local—they called themselves ekidnes, according to Meline—throwing a clay pot, and a squirrel blowing glass.

Meline led Ella around a corner, and Ella’s fingers thrummed to the melody of hammer on metal. A shop with a sign depicting a hammer and anvil drew her. Beneath a slate lean-to, a drakle so green he was almost yellow held a bronze bar in two pairs of tongs while his upper arms operated a hammer and punch. Ella watched as he twisted and worked the cherry-red metal into a whorl of vines and leaves. He’d already finished the central portion, which had what looked like three vines braided around each other. He had two trays of tools in easy reach, and the fluidity and precision with which he picked up and set down tools—hardly taking his eyes off his work—gave Ella to know this drakle might have plied his trade as long as she had.

Finally he set the piece on a frame and stood, reaching for the ceiling. His crest and frills were bright red. He wore a thick apron, and heavy trousers with a third leg for his tail. He wore a grey sleeveless shirt with two wide armholes.

His eye wandered in their direction. “Ah, Meline,” he said, stepping out from under the awning, “good to see you again.” He had a thick, unfamiliar accent, with something of a lisp.

Meline went forward and took his hands—well, two of them, anyway—with a bow. “And you, Art.” She turned to Ella. “Ella, this is Arthur Bronzemonger, the best metalworker in Oak and Stone.”

Ella bowed. “It’s always nice to meet another of my kind.”

Meline turned back to Art. “Art, this is Lord Ella of Oakhill. She recently did me a great service, and to repay her I’m showing her around town.” She lowered her voice to a stage whisper. “Her smithing might give you a run for your money.”

Art raised a pair of scaly eyebrows as he took Ella’s hands and bowed. A forked tongue flicked out of his mouth. “You smell of metal, charcoal, and wood—mostly oak, but also willow and poplar—but you have overlaid it with lavender.” Ella reflexively moved back from the tongue. Art’s eyes widened, and he sucked it back into his mouth. His frill reddened more. “Forgive me. Fairies are new to Nidd, and your ways do not always come easily.”

“I could forgive a smith of your caliber far worse than a small eccentricity,” Ella said. She felt a flush creep up her neck. “Could you… would you honour me by showing us around your forge?”

Art’s eyes gleamed. “I would be delighted to show another smith my work.”

“Then lead on, good sir!” Ella said.

Arthur reached for a clay pitcher by a sturdy door leading into what was probably his house. “Would you like a glass of ice water?” he asked. “Smithing is good work, but hot.”

“How do you keep your ice?” Meline’s ear-points wiggled. With interest, as far as Ella could tell.

“Carters bring the ice down the mountain packed in crates with sawdust,” Art said as he opened the door to his cellar and hopped down. He came back up with several finger-sized chunks of ice, dropped one in each glass, and put the rest in his pitcher. “and I put it in my ice

box downstairs.” He took a long draught from his cup. Ella noticed his frill start to pale. “You can also have a water fairy freeze some water for you. But the genuine article tastes better. Now,” he rubbed two of his four hands together, “let me show you some of my projects.”

Hanging from the ceiling was a bronze-bladed scythe. On two hooks on the far wall were a pair of axes, one with a silver head, the other copper. Tools of various kinds hung on the wall, including a number Meline was unfamiliar with; the only one that stumped Ella turned out to be a set of scale clippers. A pair of silver shields shaped like gigantic scales intrigued her.

Art, unsurprisingly, proved a fount of knowledge regarding his craft. There were a few points he was unable to clarify for Ella, though she suspected this was due more to a slight want in his vocabulary than a lack of understanding. He’d no trouble making silver and gold as hard and strong as any fairy.

“I have a question,” Meline said, as she examined a set of caterpillar shears. Art and Ella both raised their eyes from the minutia of a serpentine-handled camp knife (which had a blade below the municipal length limit).

“What is it?” Art said.

Meline looked around the shop. “You have a lot of high-quality items here.”

Art’s eyes lit with understanding. “You are wondering how, in a busy port town, I keep thieves from walking away with my wares.” Meline nodded. Art looked between her and Ella. Ella felt her own eyes widen as a thought occurred to her.

“We’ve just met,” Ella said, “so I understand if you’re uncomfortable talking about the security of your forge. I don’t tell strangers about mine, either.”

Art smiled; Ella hadn’t realized a drakle’s grin split its head in two. He gave a coughing, raspy laugh. “From anyone else, I might have taken the question amiss.” He shook his head. “I will not go into details,” he lowered his voice. “But it stems from my kind being dragonkin.”

Ella felt the blood drain from her face. She remembered from long ago the whump of colossal wings, a roar that shook the bowels of the world, a column of flame so hot it burned white. A pair of eyes larger than she was, a five-part pupil so huge it could have swallowed her, slamming shut as the flame poured out. And a voice, so deep Ella felt it in her bones, howling fire and blood.

“Ella?” She jumped at Meline’s touch on her shoulder. Judging by her and Art’s concerned looks, she’d been elsewhere for a while.

She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” she said, handing the knife back to Art. “Dragons have occasionally wandered into Fey.”

“And massacred and extorted everyone they could, I would guess?” Art asked. Ella nodded. “It is good to know, I suppose, that they are consistent.” Art hung the knife back on the wall. “They have been exacting the same cruelty on us since before our most ancient writings.”

He refilled their cups. “I have set foot beyond Nidd thrice in my life. Once to visit Gaea and learn a special technique for forging steel.” He held up a hand. “I have not used it in Oak and Stone, if anyone asks. Twice I visited Fey; yes, I visited your home world. Once when I was

still in my father’s care, and much later with my wife.” He sipped his water. “And it seems to me both worlds are less wild than mine. Though still full of dangerous creatures, I’m sure.

“Dragons are the worst, though wyverns and drakes are plenty vicious. Wyrms cause serious problems, though they usually stay deep underground. Sea wyrms are actually good to deal with; we give them baubles," he gestured to the silver shields, “and they leave our fishing vessels in peace. And the lung are kindly creatures.”

Ella leaned back. “So… this is where the lung come from?”

Art and Meline both stared at her. “I mean, yes,” Art said. “But they are rare on Gaea, much like the dragons, yes?”

Ella nodded. “I saw one once, shortly after I left Fey.” She sipped her water. “It danced on the clouds, even though it had no wings. And it conjured rainclouds as it danced, weaving in the sky like a glittering ribbon.”

She met Art’s eye. “They’re so different from dragons, I never made the connection before.”

Art shrugged. “Understandable. Take away the long bodies and scaly hides and there is hardly any similarity.” He looked at his own scaly hide. “But kin we all are.”

Ella did not ask which drakles were closer to, dragon or lung. Maybe they didn’t know. Either way, it seemed an unpleasant topic.

[diner-drama]

Cuddle Buddies (3/?)

Steve's a busy human rights lawyer who doesn't have time for a relationship but still wants to snuggle up with someone. Luckily, Bucky happens to be a professional cuddler. Chapters: 1, 2. Also on ao3.

Bucky's eyes narrowed as he sized up his opponent. Carefully, with the kitchen tongs in one hand and a tupperware box in the other, he advanced on the mouse where it was huddled against the wall.

"We can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way," he said, sounding tougher than he felt. In fact, he was about thirty seconds away from standing on a chair and screaming for Alpine - who was cementing her personal brand as the world's most useless, spoiled cat by being asleep on her favorite armchair - to rescue him.

Bucky's eyes narrowed as he sized up his opponent. Carefully, with the kitchen tongs in one hand and a tupperware box in the other, he advanced on the mouse where it was huddled against the wall.

"We can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way," he said, sounding tougher than he felt. In fact, he was about thirty seconds away from standing on a chair and screaming for Alpine - who was cementing her personal brand as the world's most useless, spoiled cat by being asleep on her favorite armchair - to rescue him.

The mouse let him get within a few centimeters of it before darting to the side and scurrying behind one of the cabinets.

Bucky let out a string of imaginative curse words before rubbing a hand over his face, giving up, and getting out the peanut butter to bait the humane mouse traps with.

"You are a disgrace to your species," he said to Alpine, who rolled over and started leisurely licking herself.

He threw himself down onto the couch and started to flick through TV series, trying to choose what to watch. Bucky's apartment was technically very nice - big, lots of natural light, tastefully furnished - but he hadn't made a lot of changes to the place since he moved in a year ago and it almost seemed like someone else's apartment. For the last few weeks, though, he'd found himself stopping into homeware stores on his way home and picking up little bits and bobs - here a knitted throw, there some mood lighting - and he was starting to feel pretty cozy in his space.

It could be argued that he was turning his home into a carbon copy of Steve's, only with more cat hair.

Alpine made a chirruping noise and he looked over to see her chewing enthusiastically on the toy Steve had bought for her, "just because". Seeing the blush dusting Steve's cheeks when he handed it over had been a wonderful gift in itself.

Bucky was finding it harder and harder during their sessions to stop himself from brushing Steve's messy hair away from his face and peppering his pink cheeks with kisses, but he was a goddamn professional and he wasn't going to kiss his client unless Steve kissed him first.

He was really hoping that Steve would kiss him first.

"Door's open!" yelled Steve from the kitchen when he heard Bucky knocking. "Come on in, I need a guinea pig."

Bucky's smile was a welcome sight as he made his way into the apartment, bringing the fresh smell of autumn in with him. "You're not about to poison me, are you?"

"Who knows?" shrugged Steve cheerfully, stirring the concoction in his saucepan. Bucky crowded in behind him to lean over him, his curtain of hair brushing over Steve's cheek, and take a deep sniff.

"What is it? Smells amazing," said Bucky nonchalantly, as though he wasn't giving Steve heart palpitations at this casual intimacy.

"Vanilla, oat milk, cocoa butter, white sugar," said Steve distractedly, fishing around in a drawer for a couple of teaspoons. "Here, have a taste."

He very studiously did not look when Bucky licked the spoon clean, but he couldn't help but overhear his moan of appreciation.

"Stevie, you're a genius," declared Bucky, going in for another spoonful but being thwarted by Steve whacking his hand.

"Let me serve it up," Steve explained when Bucky turned the full force of his pouty face on him.

"Guinea pigs get treated better than this," grumbled Bucky good-naturedly.

"I'll find you some sawdust in a minute," replied Steve, pouring the drink into two mugs and topping them with dairy-free cream and caramel sauce. Bucky accepted his hot drink reverently, cupping it carefully in both hands and walking gingerly to the couch to take his first sip.

Steve felt a wave of affection as he watched Bucky emerge from sticking his whole face into his drink, an absurd blob of cream on his nose.

"Oh my God," moaned Bucky. "This is exactly what I imagined Butterbeer tasted like when I read Harry Potter. Like white chocolate and happiness."

He promptly applied himself to his drink once more and no more conversation was forthcoming until he'd taken the last sip. He leaned his head back against the couch, in a blissful world of his own.

"You got any new positions to try this week?" asked Steve. Bucky had turned up the last couple of weeks full of cuddling innovations that he'd read about in books and wanted to try out. As expected, he beamed on hearing the question.

"I sure do! This is a sitting up one. C'mere and put one knee either side of my legs, facing me."

Once upon a time, Steve might have felt uncomfortable straddling the lap of a handsome man in his living room, but thanks to Bucky's calming influence he only forgot how to breathe for a few seconds before his brain came back online and he found himself sitting in Bucky's lap, ass perched on those muscular thighs. Tenderly, Bucky cupped the back of his head and directed him to rest against his shoulder so they were cheek to cheek.

"Feel good?" murmured Bucky, wrapping his other arm around Steve's shoulders.

The word 'good' was wholly inadequate to describe the way Steve felt when he was in Bucky's embrace. It was a new, delicate feeling that bloomed in his chest - he felt cherished, precious, protected. He hummed in appreciation. "Mmm. Good."

"Did you know that cuddling releases oxytocin, which is the same chemical that's released after childbirth and after orgasm?" said Bucky softly, being an enormous nerd.

"Sounds about right," said Steve without thinking, then buried his face in Bucky's shoulder to hide his blush. Bucky's answering chuckle was light and friendly.

"People need to be touched," whispered Bucky, combing his fingers through Steve's hair, rubbing just his fingertips over his scalp. "It's primal."

Steve, entirely incapacitated by the tingly feeling in the back of his neck, just slumped helplessly against Bucky's solid warmth and rotated his head so that Bucky's fingers could reach every part.

As they relaxed against each other - Bucky sliding a little further out from the back of the couch, Steve's knees burrowing deeper into the cushions - Steve found himself inching further and further along Bucky's perfect thighs without really noticing until he realized he was sitting pressed right up against him, his legs splayed wide around Bucky's hips and their crotches a hair's breadth away from touching.

His instincts were screaming out to him to close the gap so they could grind against each other, slow and dirty, but he managed to hold himself back. Conversely, it would be too obvious if he tensed up or tried to move backwards and away from Bucky's mysterious and tempting dick, so he did his best to stop worrying and just enjoy the feeling of being wrapped in Bucky's arms.

He was successful in this endeavor for a little while, until some small movement of their bodies relative to each other brought their groins in direct contact and he heard Bucky make a sharp intake of breath. Pleasure and anxiety sparking through him, Steve was frozen for a moment before giving a small, involuntary roll of the hips, which drew a beautiful moan from deep in Bucky's chest.

He raised his head and looked at Bucky's face. His pupils were blown wide and his red lips were parted just a little, shiny as though he'd been licking them.

Time seemed to stand still for a moment as they inched closer and closer together, Bucky's hands still rubbing mindless circles on Steve's back, until Bucky's phone started making an obnoxious buzzing noise.

"That's your alarm," whispered Steve, his eyes focused on Bucky's mouth.

"Mhm," agreed Bucky with a glazed sheen to his eyes, not looking away.

"You should, um," said Steve, coming to his senses a little. "You should probably get that."

"OK," said Bucky obediently, sounding dazed. He shook himself and then reached into his back pocket to silence his phone. The spell broken, Steve unfolded himself inelegantly from the couch and stood, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

Bucky took a little time to stand up, still looking somewhat disorientated. "I'll, um, I'll put on my shoes."

"They're by the door."

"Yeah."

The silence stretched out uncomfortably while Steve watched Bucky tying his shoelaces. Bucky looked back up at him when he was finished, a small half-smile on his face.

"Same time next week?" he said in a more normal tone of voice.

"That's great," said Steve, meeting Bucky's eye bravely with a smile of his own. They looked at each other for probably longer than was normal before Bucky turned to leave, giving a little wave as he exited down the hallway.

Steve closed the door after watching him walk away, rested his forehead against the wood, and sighed, before heading to the bedroom for a sorely-needed wank.

[darley1101]

How To Keep Your Girl Happy (Chris x Aria edition)

A/N I thought I would try something new, branch out as a writer. If you are interested in seeing me do more of these let me know. I was torn on which pairing to use but ultimately, I had to go with Chris and Aria. (Don't worry, I will probably do something similar for my other OTP's) This is pretty safe for teen and above...

tagging a few people I think might enjoy: @maxattack-powell @captain-kingliamsqueen @chrispowellandzig @jax-matsuos @debramcg1106

permatag: @blackcatkita @endlessly-searching-for-you @josieschoices @mfackenthal @eileendannie @hamulau @trianiasti

How To Make Your Girl Happy (Chris x Aria edition)

Tell her that she's beautiful

She was curled up in the chair next to the sole window in their tiny living room. Her long hair hid her face but Chris knew Aria's focus was on the book she had opened in her lap. He could almost see those gray-blue eyes shifting from side to side as she studied. Even without any make up, wearing only one of his old Cherryfield High t shirts, she was stunning. Grinning, Chris walked over and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “What was that for,” she asked, briefly taking her focus off the text she had been reading.

“Nothing much,” Chris murmured, tucking a lock of  her chocolate brown hair behind her ear. “Just admiring my beautiful girlfriend.”

Hold her hand

It was kind of silly, but one of things Aria loved most about Chris was how they could be walking side by side and his hand would automatically start to reach for hers. There was something so right, so comforting about her smaller fingers interlocking with his larger ones. Especially on particularly cold days, since she was prone to leaving her gloves at home on the dining room table.

Leave her voice messages to wake up to

Burrowing deeper into the covers, Aria hid her face in Chris's pillow. There were no differences between his pillow and her own, other than his cologne seemed to linger on his. Plus, his side of the bed was furthest from the dresser, where her phone sat, alarming beeping. She let out a sigh and sat up. It wasn't going to shut itself off and Chris had already left for football practice. As she picked it up, she noticed one missed call and a voicemail. A smile started to spread across her lips. She didn't need to look to know the call had been from Chris. “Good morning beautiful, practice should be over with by ten. How about we have an early lunch...clothing optional.”

Wrestle with her and let her win

“You're going down Powell,” Aria exclaimed as she watched Chris eating the chocolate covered strawberries her mom had sent her for her birthday. As she tried to grab the container, Chris held it high above his head. “Oh, its on now!” Grinning, she wiggled her fingers and then started tickling him.

“Is that all you've got Forbes?” Chris teased, leaning out of her way to take a large bite from another berry. “Man, these are delicious.”

Aria gasped. She jumped, trying to grab the box. It was a futile move. She was only five feet five to Chris' six feet three. Scowling, she threw her arms around his middle and pushed. She could feel him laughing as they both tumbled to the ground., him landing on his back with her sprawled across his chest. “Okay, okay, you've got me.”

Hug her from behind

She was lost in her own world, humming and bobbing her head along to whatever song played on her iPod, while she washed dishes. Grinning, Chris came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, capturing her in a hug. He buried his nose in neck, chuckling when the ends of her wavy dark hair tickled his nose.

Grab her ass when someone else is staring

Chris fought back the urge to outright scowl when he caught Nathan Sterling staring at Aria...again. He wanted to tell the other guy that he got it, Aria was gorgeous, but she was also taken. As Aria bent over slightly to hear something Kaitlin was telling her, Chris got an idea. Shooting a smirk in Nathan's direction, he splayed his large hand across one of her ass cheeks and gave it a slight squeeze. “Hey now, save that shit for later,” Kaitlyn teased.

“Can't help it, she's just got a grab-able ass,” Chris laughed. From the corner of his eye he can see Nathan turning his attention to some Kappa girl. Good, he thought. Maybe Nathan got the message. The only person grabbing that ass was Chris and the next time he caught Nathan staring he might not be so nice about it.

Write her notes, love letters

Fighting back a bored sigh, Aria flipped open her math book. She blinked in surprise at the pink heart shaped sticky note attached to the page. “Just wanted to say I love you and not to stress over this test. You're going to do great babe. Love, Chris”

Make her surprise calls just to say I love you

Aria loved her family. Really, she did. Especially her dad. And she loved spending time with them. It was just...she missed Chris. They still hadn't figured out a feasible way to spend full breaks together. Her parents were still adjusting to the fact that they were living together. She could only imagine the crap storm that would start if she suggested going to Maine for part of Winter break. Over her granny's high pitch cackle, Aria could hear her phone ringing. Chris' name and picture flash across the screen. “Hey,” she greeted, ducking out the back door.

“Hey yourself,” Chris teased. “Just wanted to call and say I love you and I miss you.”

“I love and miss you too,” she said, smiling brightly.

Introduce her to your friends, mother, family as your girlfriend

It was kind of silly how nervous Aria was. This wasn't her first visit to Cherryfield, Maine but she wasn't sure if the last one counted because it had been for a total of thirty minutes. And she hadn't been attending a family get together. “Relax,” Chris massaged her shoulders. “There's nothing to be nervous about.”

That was easy for him to say. He had already met both of her parents and was adored as the son her father never had. Taking a deep breath, she let Chris lead her into the small, crowded living room where his mom, siblings, grandma and a few friends had gathered for Kyle's birthday. “Guys, this is my girlfriend Aria.” A sigh of relief shot through her as AJ raced up to hug her, and Chris' mom followed suit, telling her how happy she was that Chris had found someone as wonderful as her.

Play with her hair

Propping himself up on one elbow, Chris stared down at Aria's still sleeping form. Her long, dark hair was fanned out across her pillow and part of his. Smiling, he picked up the ends, toying with the silky strands. She always said she was going to braid it before bed but she never did and Chris is kind of glad for that. He enjoys playing with the thick waves first thing in the morning.

Pick her up, even when she says no

Aria let out a shriek as Chris gently tossed a football at her. For once she caught it. She stared at it, her beautiful face lit up with shock. “What am I supposed to do now,” she asked, laughing and tossing the ball from one hand to the other.

“Surrender,” Chris suggested, lunging for her.

“No!” Aria cried, trying to take off before he could tackle her. She wasn't fast enough. He caught her around the waist from behind and swung her around, both of them laughing.

Make her laugh

“Did I tell you that AJ called first thing this morning?”

Aria shook her head, her gaze still on the granola cereal she was trying to eat and enjoy but couldn't because it tasted like sawdust. “Everything okay>”

“Well, depends on your definition of okay. Apparently her friend Melissa's dad put too much chlorine in their pool and now AJ's hair is the color of Shrek's skin. She said she wouldn't mind it so much except her baseball uniform is red and now she, and I quote, looks like frigging Christmas.”

Milk spewed out of Aria's nose as she laughed. She could actually hear AJ complaining about her green hair clashing with her uniform; who cares if your hair is green so long as it matches your uniform.

Let her fall asleep in your arms

In Chris's eyes there were few things nicer on a cold, winter's day than lounging in bed, watching movies with the girl he loved. The only thing that made it nicer was when Aria would curl up next to him, her head on his shoulder, and fall asleep. Sure, she slept next to him every night but these day time cuddle naps were different. He rarely fell asleep himself, so he could enjoy just holding her close.

If she's mad at you, kiss her neck, don't fight back

From the pouty lips to the crinkled up brow, it wasn't difficult to determine that Aria was still mad at him for washing her white sundress with his red gym shorts. He opened his mouth to tell her that he thought the dress looked great as pink and white tye die but thought better of it. Instead, he did his best puppy dog impression and pulled her close, burying his face in her neck. Nibbling along her throat, he murmured another apology. “I guess it doesn't look that bad,” Aria sighed, relaxing into his embrace.

Show her that you care about her

The rain came out of no where. A cold, heavy down pour that quickly had Aria looking like a shivering, drowned rat. She wrapped her arms around her middle, ducked her head down, and started to run towards the nearest building. Halfway there, a jacket was draped around her shoulders. Blinking through the rain drops, she looked up to find Chris holding his jacket over her. “What? Couldn't have my best girl getting any wetter than she already is, could I?” If she wasn't already in love with him, she would have been right then and there. He was always doing things like this show her that he cared.

Give her presents

“Don't peek,” Chris ordered.

Aria laughed and touched the blind fold that was haphazardly tied over her eyes. “I won't.” She let Chris slowly lead her somewhere. They're bedroom? It was definitely still in their apartment, that was for sure.

“Okay, now you can look.”

Reaching up, Aria, pulled the blindfold down around her neck. She let out a small squeal and lunged for the bed. There, in the middle of their pillows, was a build a bear wearing a pink princess ballet outfit. The week before she had told him that her parents had thought building her own teddy bear was silly. He'd asked her what kind of bear she had wanted. A pink princess ballerina she had told him. And now, there it was. Her pink princess ballerina bear. Blinking back tears, Aria turned and hugged Chris tightly. “Thank you,” she whispered against his chest.

Treat her the same when your friends are around

Their tiny living room felt even smaller with Chris, Zig, and a few other football players crammed in it to review the tape from their last game. Aria started to sneak by, to hole up in the bedroom. She made it half way there before Chris jumped up and caught her in a hug. “Love you,” he murmured, pressing a quick kiss against her lips.

“I love you too,” she grinned, kissing him back.

“Yeah, yeah, lots of love. Now come on, Captain, we need to figure out where we messed up on that play.”

Look her in the eyes and give her your best smile

Aria could loose herself in Chris's eyes. They were this brilliant blue color that reminded her of a warm, summer sky. He had this way of meeting her gaze and slowly smiling this smile that she knew was just for her. And man if it didn't make her melt each and every single time.

Hang out with her on the weekends because she's important to you

Chris heard his phone buzz as he pulled a bag of steaming hot popcorn from the microwave. 'Wanna catch an extra workout?' one of his teammates asked in a text. 'Not today. Plans with Aria.' He couldn't help but laugh when Logan text back saying he always had plans with Aria. It was true. Weekends belonged to his girl. He could make other plans, go hang out with friends, and Aria would be cool with it. Why would he though when the one person he wanted to see most in the world was her?

Stay loyal to her

“Hi.” A blonde with big blue eyes and even bigger boobs smiled at him flirtatiously. “I'm Lindsey. You're Chris Powell, right? Captain of the football team?”

Great, another football groupie. They seemed to be waiting outside the locker rooms after every game. Some of the guys liked the attention. Not Chris. He had a fantastic thing going with Aria and he wasn't about to ruin it on some girl who didn't care about anything but his football stats and bragging rights. “Yeah,” he answered, because it would have been rude not to. “Nice to meet you Lindsey. I hope you enjoyed the game.”

“The game was fantastic. You were fantastic. Why don't you let me buy you a drink and we can celebrate that winning touch down.” She leaned forward, her breasts almost spilling out of her little crop top.

“No thanks. My girlfriend and I already have celebration plans.”

“Your loss,” Lindsey smirked, raising her top to flash her breasts. Chris rolled his eyes and kept walking. What was it with these groupies throwing themselves at him, when everyone knew he had a girlfriend?

Communicate and tell her everything

“The groupies were out in full force,” Chris complained as he met up with Aria in the stadium parking lot. “They're getting crazier. I had this one ask if I wanted to grab a drink and celebrate and when I told her no, that I was going to celebrate with my girlfriend, she friggin flashed me.”

Aria busted up laughing. “She actually flashed you?” Chris nodded. “Headlights or kitty cat?”

[setoangel01-fanfiction]

Allowance

Crazy - Chapter 21 (Previous Chapters)

Rated: T

Chapter Summary: Mikey confronts Raphael and the red banded turtle can't believe what he's hearing…

Fanfiction.net

A03

Raphael lumbered back into the lair; heart palpitating frantically in his chest and body a mass of nerves that was ready to implode any second. He wanted nothing more than to just go pound on his punching bag or lift weights until he felt absolutely nothing but the searing white pain enveloping every muscle in his arms and shoulders. He was still adamant he made the right decision not to kiss April but it still hurt like fuckin' hell to have ultimate euphoria so close and to just not take it.

He'd relished in always been the rebel, the risk-taker, the one who defied all logic and expectations to do whatever the hell he deemed fit…but with April, it was a whole different ballgame.

April made him want to curse, scream, cry, rage before ultimately kissing the very ground she walked on. To grovel at her feet for only the sheer opportunity to kiss the tips of her dainty fingers. Totally enamored with her very being and presence yet so hopelessly angry she could cause such an effect on him. The intense diversity of these overwhelming emotions were none he could possibly begin to understand. She was his muse, his obsession, his deepest desire for the sheer opportunity to just stay in her mere presence….he was certain she'd be the untimely death of him.

No one had ever made him feel this way; it was like he wasn't in control of his body or mind; everything about her just encapsulated his very being and he was merely the puppet to her pulling the invisible strings.

If only she knew the power she had over him…

Over the one turtle who rebelled against everything; was selfish and hotheaded, never letting anyone in and always pushing others away…yet she had him in the palm of her hand; turning him into muddy green turtle putty without any effort whatsoever. It was absolutely maddening how much of a hold she had over him…

Pathetic was what it was.

It was like he was helplessly cast underneath her spell; adrift in a tidal wave of intense, soul-crushing emotions without any chance of coming up for air. Lost in a sea of her every wanton desire; for an opportunity for her to notice him as more than a friend; a confidant…a mutated turtle freak. He wanted her to see him as more than just his scaly flesh and reptile blood. Raph wanted April to see into his heart; to allot her the knowledge of how much he really cared about her…loved her like he loved no one else before or could imagine loving since…yet every single fiber in his being knew it would never be the case.

Feet dragging slightly, he moved into the weight room adjacent the open living area.

Going about subconsciously, he moved over to the cabinet and pulled out a roll of white bandage tape. Wrapping up his knuckles and fingers before he lost his mind to his body. Mindlessly slamming the bag of sawdust and sand with raw knuckles and sore knees just to numb the sensation of her finger tips that still ghosted over his neck. To cloud over the scent of her minty breath, so wanton and close. Damn, he could still smell her; that mane of hair that always carried the aroma of spring flowers, aloe, and a scarce hint of coconut oil.

Even if his body was completely enamored with working out or otherwise, she still never was far from his thoughts; his internal musing of which she always played the key role. Never wandering far from his fleeting subconscious; her heart-shaped face, beautiful hourglass frame, breathy laughter, soft voice, cornflower blue eyes, and wave after wave of bouncy dark chocolate locks cascading over her thin shoulders.

April was all he could think about.

Yet it wasn't just physical; she was far more than just a pretty face and stellar body. Unconditional love, kindness and loyalty far outweighing her beauty and putting it to shame. Caring about them when she had nothing to gain; pushing past the world's standards to look past their physicality and still deeply care about them as no human dared to before or since. To see they were more than just freakish mutants. Raphael would be the first to admit that it may have been her beauty than tempted him initially, but it was her personality that completely sucked him in. She was like a drug, constantly invading at every opportune moment just to prove how weak he really was.

For all his fronting and badassery, he was just a mere puppet, a mere pawn to his obsession for April O'Neil.

It was pathetic, sickening, and convoluted but right now, he didn't give a flying fuck. He supposed he always would be cast adrift on the sea of her memories; her very being and presence so intoxicating. Breathing in nothing but her til his lungs gave out. The visions of her smile in his mind's eye; her voice and smell so potent. She wasn't just a want, it was more of a necessity; to never let go and to hopelessly surrender to the emotions she brought out in him. Everything inside of him screamed in rebellion over her vice grip she carried on his heart but he ignored those. Surrendering to this obsession was so easy yet when he found himself with her...it was so different.

If only he could…

"RAPH!" a scream shattered whatever hell reality he'd been thrust into.

All of a sudden, his eyes cleared up to see the very confused, bemused face of Michelangelo staring up at him from the other side of the punching bag. The shock of seeing his orange-banded brother there was nothing to a sudden a strange pain in his hands brought him fully out of whatever trance he was under.

Chancing a glance down, Raphael realized his knuckles had long ago been bleeding; the rust colored, sticky substance now permanently staining the battered gray bag and the once white bandages.

"Fuck!" Raphael growled in great annoyance; the sting from his hands numbing any embarrassment his little trance may have caused.

"Raph?!" Mikey asked again in a quieter tone but Raphael visibly jumped at it anyway.

"Mike. Ya scared the shit outta me! The fuck you want?" Raph growled low in his throat; internally punching himself for talking to Mikey like that when it probably wasn't warranted. Ignoring how his breath was choppy and his pupils partially dilated; likely looked like some mindless zombie. Internally, he wondered just how long he was out of it…

"Nothin'," he replied with a dramatic shrug, "Ya were just making a ruckus in here; thought I'd make sure ya weren't breaking anything like last time."

Raphael rolled his eyes at his answer; pushing back his shoulders before going back at toward the bag with gusto if only to drown out whatever other stupid thing Mikey would say next. He continued this for a few minutes as he waited for the youngest brother to speak, but he didn't; he also didn't leave.

As time went on, it became painfully obvious that Mikey didn't seem to have any desire to vacate the room anytime soon. So much for some damn peace and quiet…

Well aware that his youngest brother was not going to just go away without prompting, Raphael spoke up.

"What do you want, Mike?" Raph grunted, the words punctuated by each blow his fists dealt the saw dust bag. Mikey didn't immediately answer so he spoke again, "Where are Don and Leo? Go annoy them cause I sure as hell ain't in the mood for dis."

"Donnie's asleep and it's Leo turn for patrol." Mikey replied with a lazy shrug. From the corner of his eye, Raphael watched as he kicked at some invisible dirt around on the tattered concrete floor. "Splinter finally let me leave the Hashi just a few minutes ago cause he got tired of standing there watchin' me to make sure I wasn't goofin' off…"

The audible shift that took place in the youngest turtle's voice did not go unnoticed by Raphael. Fists slowing down only slightly, he grunted before replying, "Did ya come here just to squeeze an apology from me, or what? Ya gettin' sent to the Hashi wasn't my damn fault; dat shit was all you, so dontcha hold yer breath on that one, Mike."

"I don't want an apology." the youngest muttered under his breath.

That was enough to stop Raphael cold.

"...What?" he breathed out, hating how his voice took an octave shift with the clenching of his throat.

"I said, I don't want an apology."

"Then what do you want? I ain't exactly in the mood to entertain ya." Raph grumbled out, forcing his vision to study the nicks and grooves on the bag in front of him.

"I know, that. I'm just…I-I'm just wondering why you didn't even bother to tell me that you and April were…ya know - a 'thing'?" Mikey muttered under his breath but Raphael heard it perfectly and his body and mind had the reaction you would expect.

"WHAT!?" he nearly screeched; cheeks and heart aflame at the very accusation. His body was honed in fight or flight mode and it was leaning toward the latter with every painful second that ticked by. How dare Mikey assume even anything was going on, let alone THAT!? Heart a fiercely guarded secret that no one better damn near know nothing about…

"Yeah…It's kinda hard not to notice something is goin' on between ya."

"Heh," Raph couldn't help but chuckle if only because he had no other idea of how to react, "M-Mike, I think ya got the wrong idea. There is nothing going on." Denying it was always the easiest route after all.

"No use lying to me now, Raph. The least you could do for stealing my girl is be honest with me." Mikey flat out admitted and Raphael almost swallowed his tongue at the firmness of his youngest brother's voice.

"S-Steal yer girl?! What the actual fuck gave ya that idea? April is just a friend! I -" Raphael staunchly denied in a louder voice than probably necessary; hating and trying to ignore how hot his face had become and heart palpitating uncomfortably in his chest. Deplored how his body instantly reacted to Mikey calling April "his girl" bothered him more than usual.

"How do you know?" the youngest interrupted; angry blue eyes staring up defiantly at him. Quite a rare sight indeed…usually he was scared shit-less by his massive older brother and his domineering ways and rightly so.

"...What?" it seemed as if that was his only answer for most things tonight.

"Heh. It's so obvious. I mean, she spends a helluva lot of time with you considering she's just a 'friend'," Mikey reiterated with air-quotes, "Always inviting you over and you even spending the night sometimes. All the special treats she brings you and all the movies you guys watch together… I guess I just ignored it before, but... I dunno. She's different with you than she is with any of us." Mikey just seemed nonplussed now; averting his gaze and beginning to pace around the crowded space.

It reminded him far too much of too many moments prior.

How Mike usually sought him out and told him something he was afraid to tell anyone else. While he normally wore his heart on his sleeve, there were certain things Michelangelo only relayed to Raphael. A certain aspect of their relationship; a trusted bond that allowed Raph to hear things their other family members would be impervious to. It astonished him how much Mikey had trusted him with these secrets and he knew what Mike was relaying him wasn't easy for anyone; even him.

Yet another side of him refused his youngest brother's words. His own doubts and speculations about his own emotions bringing out his normal rebellion.

"Yer out of yer fuckin' mind!" Raph growled, eagerly returning to his beat-down on the punching bag even as his knuckles protested. Desperate to drown out his own thoughts as well as Mikey's continuing rant.

"Am I? Ya sure it's not you, bro? You typically got your head shoved so far up your ass that you barely notice anything around here! Let alone the way she looks at you!" Mikey interrupted, bravely pulling back on the punching back so Raphael couldn't reach it.

"Mike! Fuckin stop it! Ya don't know what the hell yer talking about!" Raphael bellowed, reaching back over to pull it back but Mikey dodged it. His cheeks were aflame and his heart was thundering against his rib-cage.

"MIKEY!" Raphael fired a warning shot in the form of a feral roar.

"Just fuckin' listen to me, Raph!" Mikey shouted; blue eyes defiant and angry for one of the first times Raphael could remember. His normally laid back clown of a brother had shifted and it was enough to give Mikey a chance to speak.

"What about tonight? You don't think I saw that!?"Mikey asked, gesturing loosely to the direction of the living room. "You landed right on her tonight but instead of flinchin' and demandin' you get off of her…she looked like she wanted ya to kiss her or somethin'…and for a second, I kinda thought you would."

Raphael froze like a deer in the headlights.

"You may think I'm stupid Raph, but you must be completely deaf, dumb, and blind if ya can't see the way she looks at you…How she always looked at you…" Mikey turned away, "…I-I just wished I noticed it sooner to save myself the heartbreak." the words were softly-spoken, melancholy almost, as Raphael's clenched fists released.

Raphael stood as if stuck in a loophole of time. Body tense and stiff as his eyes finally gravitated toward Michelangelo to really look at him. Back was turned and shell most of what he could see but the slightly trembling in his shoulders gave him away and Raphael felt his heart rupture. As hair-brained and empty-headed as Mikey was most of the time, there was no denying the truth of the words he spoke and the conviction of which he said them.

…Mikey wouldn't have said any of it if he didn't mean it…

Catching his breath, he allowed Mike's words to flush over his body. To register the truth of them. Yeah, April and him did spend an awful lot of time together…alone mostly. She always went out of her way to invite him over, buy him food. Brought over movies he liked and took time out of her hellish schedule to see him at least a once or twice a week…But that didn't mean anything…right? April spent time with his other brothers too. Yeah, she may have spent more time with him personally but he assumed it was just because they liked the same movies. It still didn't answer exactly why she called or texted him to see how he was daily…not his brothers, but him…

…why would she do that if she didn't…

"See?" Mikey suddenly spoke bringing the elder brother out of his thoughts; he saw Mikey now looking at him and the sadness lacing those blue eyes didn't belong there. "I think it's more than that, Raph…actually, I know there is. Take it for whatever that is but… I dunno."

Raphael's throat felt tight as his eyes rose to the face of his brother. An utter sadness that he hated lingered there. "Y-You think she…" he stuttered before his tongue completely gave out.

"Hell, I dunno. I'm just tellin' you what I see. I may not know a lot about humans but I think I've seen enough chick flicks to warrant a lot of it…" Mikey shrugged.

"Mike…" Raph growled.

"You have to admit she spend a lot of one-on-one time with you and I doubt it's 'cause of your sparkling personality."

Raph didn't know how to answer that.

"What about you? I know it's kind of a stupid question, but, do you like her that way?" Mikey asked, peering curiously at Raphael.

Raph's face felt like it was on fire; averting his amber eyes quickly before Mikey could see the shifting emotions in them.

"What the hell does it matter?" Raphael finally muttered out. What the fuckin' hell good would lying do now anyway?

"Whataya mean?"

"It ain't gonna happen, Mike." Raph replied with a dejected chuckle, loathing how his chest tightened painfully to verbally admit it. Yet, he supposed the sooner he came to terms with it, the better off he would be.

"How do you know?"

"Mike, I doubt April -"

"Look, Raph. You have an opportunity here that any of us would die for!" Mikey suddenly shouted and Raphael jumped at the pain lacing his voice. Amber eyes gravitated toward Mikey and he wished he didn't. Tears laced those sad blue eyes and it damn near broke his heart to see his little brother in that condition…

"Mike…" Raph breathed.

"Listen to me, Raph. It doesn't matter how little of a chance there is - it's still a chance! Why would you let it hold you back when this is a once in a lifetime opportunity! I mean, seriously, bro! There ain't too many girls knocking at our door. April is here and she really cares about you. I know she does…"

"...y-you think?"

Mikey shrugged, a sad smile lifting the corners of his mouth. "Heh. Well, you lucky bastard, if I were you, I wouldn't pass it up even if there was only a single chance in hell. I'd fuckin' hold on and never let go…but hey, that's just me."

Raphael grew silent.

Mind a torrent of emotions he could scarcely deal with but a sudden alarm sounding had anything he may or not have said fall to the wayside.

[eturneea]

Blinders (Pt. 1)

Prompt: On the final day of hunting season, two hunters perch in a deer stand and wait for their target. They begin to discuss past experiences, and one hunter reveals a surprising secret.

A story about grief, admission, and masculinity.

The air smelled like his version of a dream. It hung in the morning, crisp and wet, filled with the scent of damp leaves, hops, and burnt coffee. The smell of soil came after, like an aftertaste, as rich and dry as chocolate. You didn’t smell soil in the city, he thought, but you never really missed it either. Would he miss it when he finally returned home? A cloud above the two hunters broke in two, revealing the white morning sun, and Roger shielded his eyes with a gloved hand. Jeremy, simply looked away and into the shadowy corners of the deer blind. The shadows hung on his gaunt face like cobwebs, his dark hair all but blended into the shade. Jeremy’s normally bright eyes looked glassy, his mind was far away from here. He was prone to this, but Roger knew that this was a rare morning, and all the more beautiful for that. He inhaled it like he wanted it in his bloodstream.

Jeremy suddenly picked up his leg with two hands and propped it up onto ice chest. “Knee’s giving me trouble again. These cold mornings, you know.”

Roger let his eyes shift from the open field in front of him. No deer. Not yet. No harm in talking, he supposed. “Kendra has me taking these,” he paused for a moment, searching for the word, “Supplements. I thought they wouldn’t help, but you know...I think they have been.”

“That diet she has you on probably doesn’t hurt either, man,” Jeremy gave a hollow chuckle. He was teasing him again.   

The diet. He hated that damn diet, anything he wanted but it always in moderation. If he had a hamburger at lunch she wouldn’t cook pork chops at night. He didn’t understand all of the reasoning behind it, if she had explained it in scientific terms maybe it would have stuck with him better. Instead, she’d carried on about activity level, heart disease statistics, and calories. “I don’t feel so good that I can excuse the vegetables. Raw ones too. Not even cooked.”

Jeremy tugged one of his dusty, black gloves off and reached for the beer he’d left on the floor. He took a swig, looked at the can as if he’d forgotten the brand, and then took another quick swig. He sniffed long and loud. Every deer within half a mile was sure to have heard. They’d be more cautious now, it was unlikely they’d have a kill. But It had been almost a year and a half since they’d seen each other. Who knew when they’d see each other again? And they’d done well the day before. His fingers twitched, but a little catching up could hardly hurt.

His friend placed the can on the floor with a hollow clank. “Salads aren’t all that bad, man.”

“Salad? She hasn’t gotten me to eat salads yet, Jeremy. Shit. I’m still a man. And I ain’t turning into no hipster, city boy either.” A grin overtook his face hard and fast. Hipsters were easy pickings, and he considered launching into a rant about the so-called “men” in his new city. Their long hair, their bikes, their desk jobs, and sailor tattoos. They were children into too-expensive clothes, let loose into the wild too soon. They were the death of the gentleman.

“Neither will my son be,” the sentence came out before Roger comprehended the thought. That was what happened when you had a child, he supposed. They never left your mind, and conversation seemed to always circle back to them. He couldn’t shut up about Stephen, even now. Jeremy’s face tightened at the mention of the baby. His own smile was painful, and it stretched across his face far too quickly to be convincing.  

Roger had always been able to read his friend like a book, and knew just what he was thinking. He had been in his friend’s shoes once upon a time. Kendra had talked about babies the first day of their honeymoon, and it hadn’t stopped until Stephen came along.  “Ah, don’t worry about kids right now, man. You and Brooke just got married. You guys take your time and enjoy having that nice home of yours to yourselves. Don’t let her pressure you too much.” He laughed. How easily he’d fallen into the role of father and advisor. Having a son made you feel taller, wiser, more a part of the world than he’d ever been before.  It was an empowering feeling.

A cloud expanded into the air in front of Jeremy’s chapped lips as he sighed. It seemed that the poor man wasn’t ready to even consider having children. His friend could be so odd sometimes. In the days after Stephen’s birth Jeremy had been so eager to come visit them. He’d taken off of work for a full two days and a third to travel just so that he could see the kid. He’d brought gifts when Roger’s other friends had only brought cards or sent Facebook messages. Privately, of course. Having a child was a big occasion, but only women gushed publicly about that sort of thing. Jeremy had been excited, but he hadn’t gushed, of course. The man had always wanted children, it just seemed that now, facing the realistic possibility that he might have one, he’d gotten cold feet. Time would heal that. And Brooke’s excitement. After their engagement Brooke and Kendra had become close, and the two had only ever seemed to talk about one thing.

It all seemed like something from a television show to Roger. He’d imagined himself to be so different from all of those characters in the shows he and Kendra watched. Some of them were urban, some lived in unrealistically sit-com-ish worlds, some of them had lives that were so dramatic that he had to roll his eyes, some of them were older with teenagers, some of them had office jobs. There were a thousand ways in which they weren’t like his wife or him, but whatever was deep inside of those characters was inside of him and Kendra too. There was love and family. He fit the father-husband role so well that it felt unreal to him sometimes. Kendra, who’d gone to a liberal arts college and was a science major, still cooked and cleaned the house. She’d taken to working from home so that she could watch Stephen more closely. They were everything they’d been told to be. He’d always imagined the shows were more fairytale than fact, but here he was and if that meant he was living a fairytale, so be it.

God dammit, he loved her and he loved his son. It consumed him.

Roger reached across the haze of dust floating in the sun like styrofoam in a snowglobe and clapped his friend on the back of his padded coat. The smell of a stale toolbox, leather, smoke, sawdust, and sweat erupted into the air. You didn’t smell that in the city. Roger hadn’t even realized until just now. Men in the city didn’t know what work was. They worked so that they could play on the weekend, but they had no idea what rewarding work was. There was no lineage in their work. It was just a paycheck. Men like he and Jeremy had work in their veins. Their fathers had taught them their craft and they would teach it to their sons.

He and Jeremy met eyes briefly before looking back into the field. It was all crisp gold out there. The dried grass, the butter sun reflecting off of the frost. It was their last day, and it was perfect. Roger decided that even if they didn’t shoot anything this trip would have been worth it. Despite his love for the country he felt untethered. He needed to associate himself with it all again. A small flock of wild turkeys flew out of the woods at the end of the field, their wings trying desperately to beat the gravity away from them. Something had spooked them. With turkeys you could never be sure if they threat was real or not. Maybe they’d encountered a fox, but it was also equally likely that they’d happened upon a very noisy squirrel. Roger looked back to Jeremy whose hard eyes were set on the birds. He reached to tap Jeremy on the shoulder, but his friend looked at him before he made contact. Jeremy shrugged. His face said, “Why not?”.

He and his friend reached for their rifles in almost perfect synchrony. They had been loaded since five that morning, so there was nothing left to do except wait for the birds to approach. Again, they met eyes. Jeremy pointed to himself and then to Roger. Who should take the shot? They would most likely only get the one. Turkey hunting usually didn’t happen from a blind. The fact that he even offered the shot made Roger feel that Jeremy was unsure of himself. He pointed to himself and gave a thumbs up. Jeremy grinned and let the muzzle of his gun rest against the wall. Slowly, Roger placed the rifle’s muzzle onto the window sill and exhaled. On any other day the gun would have been in position already, but they had been talking. A conversation with him friend was surely worth more than a measly turkey, but missing their new-found quarry also felt like losing, and Roger hated losing.

[ask-de-writer]

FLUTERSHY MEETS KRIS : MLP Fan Fiction

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FLUTERSHY MEETS KRIS

A Hearthwarming/Xmas tale

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

2278 words

© 2019 by Glen Ten-Eyck

Writing begun 12/12/19

All rights reserved.  This document may not be copied or distributed on or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express written consent of the author.

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Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights.  They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact.  They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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“Hey, Rudy!  Any idea where we're going?”

“Not a one, Blitz!  I just lead where Kris says to go, through the reins. Been going straight since they went slack a bit ago.”

“Didn't that happen just after he tried to shortcut us through that coal power plant plume?”

“Yep.”

“Um, Guys?”

“What is it, Dash?”

“Rudy, I think you are going to have to take total control.   Kris has lost the reins entirely and he's flopped over to starboard.  From what I can hear, he is in deep respiratory trouble.”

“I hear you, Dash.  Initiating a spiral climb to port.  We need to get above this cloudcover and get our bearings.  As soon as we get a star and moon fix, we head for help!”

“Clouds are thinning, everydeer keep an eye out for anything familiar! Scratch that!  We can see the moon and we are in worse trouble than we ever suspected!  Anybody ever see the moon look like that?”

“I have. You are not going to like it though!”

“What do you mean, Cupie-Nerd?”

“Well, Rudy, it matches the one in the MLP cartoons!  That's what!  Take us down gentle until we clear the bottom of the cloud deck.  You will see!”

“I would hate to think that you are right, Cupie.  Still, I can't think of a better explanation for that moon and sky.  We will hold the port spiral as we descend.  Everybody keep your eyes peeled for obstructions!  Pretend we are descending in the Alps!”

The last of the high cloud deck passed above the desperate nine.  

Cupid called out, “I was right!  That town over there is Ponyville!  The forest to the starboard of our course is the Everfree!  Rudy, take us down to that house near the edge of the Everfree!  Careful, though! It is a thatch roof!  Most of them are, around here.”

“Right! Easy down!  We are safe!  We're going to have to help Kris to get to the chimney!  Who has his bag?  Good job, Donnie.  Get his feet in, there.  Good, the magic is working!  He fits!  Let him go!”

The yellow pegasus mare was just heating some chocolate to go with her plate of cookies for bedtime snack.  She was humming Hearthwarming tunes to herself and contemplating how lovely the pageant had been when she heard the slithering sound from her living room.  It was followed by a sort of thump like something collapsing!

Dashing into her living room, She beheld a most peculiar sight!  There was a large being dressed in red with white fur trims laying across the fire irons in her fireplace!  Luckily, it had not scattered the embers in its fall!  That was a separate puzzle, because it was far too big to fit the flue!

She grabbed the nape of its coat and pulled it free of the fire place!  “Um, uh, S . . . Sir, we need to get you, um, you know, up on all fours. Oh, um, that doesn't work, does it?  You go on just the hind legs? Lean across my back.  Not far, just to that chair.  It has no back support so lean on the table, OK?  That's it!  I am going to get you some cookies and hot chocolate.”

The little mare puttered about in the kitchen for a moment.  There was the clatter of a pot going onto the stove and the splash of water poured into it to heat.  

Up on the roof, the team were all gathered around the chimney flue listening as best they could.  Rudy looked blankly at Cupid and asked, “Up on all fours?  At least she figured that he doesn't go on four legs like we do.  What is down there, Cupie?”

“I am pretty sure that we have hit Flutteshy's house.  She is a pegasus who likes and heals the forest animals.  I figure that she is our best bet around here for helping Kris.”

She returned from the kitchen with a tray.  “N . . . Now, Sir, whatever you are, eat the cookies and drink the hot chocolate.  They will give you energy that you need.

“I, um, hope that you will forgive me, but while I helped you to the table, I listened to your lungs.  They are very badly blocked up with something.  If I don't help you to get rid of it tonight, you will probably die.

“I am tucking this blanket around your neck so that I can make a sort of tent of it when the water is ready.  I will give you a medicated steam treatment that works to clear up lungs that are clogged.”

Up on the roof, Donner commented, “Clogged lungs?  Poor Kris' lungs haven't been right since the start of the industrial revolution!  The rest of us could probably use some lung clearing too!”

Rudy cut him off with, “Shush!  I want to hear what is going on down there!”

The little mare called from the kitchen, “Oh good!  The water is hot!”

She brought out a biggish pot that was steaming and set it on the table.  She put another bowl near it and produced a largish brown bottle with a tightly stoppered neck.  It had an ornate looking label stuck to it.

At her strange guest's eyebrow raised in inquiry, she showed it to him.  He shook his head.  She smiled, “I guess that you do not read Equestrian, do you?  I will read it to you.  Pinkie Pie made it as a joke after I used this to fix her pneumonia.

“Aunt Flutters Brittle Root Potion

Good for: Shining Shoes, polishing iron work, shining silver and brass, unclogging pipes and, mixed with sawdust, filling cracks and knot holes in floors.

Not to be taken internally except in cases where sudden termination of existence is desired.”

She giggled, “I told you, it was a joke.  It is not too far wrong.  It works really well as a steam, though.”  She poured two large spoons of it into the hot water.

“Now lay your head down next to the steam bowl.  The other one is to spit up goo from your lungs into as the treatment goes on.  Now, I need to pull that blanket into a tent for you.  There.  Now breathe as deeply as you can.

“Is that all?  Your lungs are really bad.  Try again.  And again.  There, now it is beginning to penetrate.  Feel that goo?  Cough.  Again.  Spit it into the bowl!  Breathe deeper, now.  Cough it up!  Again.  You are doing great!”

The treatment went on for two more big pots of steamed potion over nearly an hour.  Finally, Kris was sitting up and alert.

“Pardon me, Miss.  I do not even know your name or how I got here, wherever here is.”

The little mare ducked her head.  “I am Fluttershy.  I don't know how you got here, either.  I heard a funny noise and a thump.  I found you in a heap in my fireplace.”

He nodded, as if her story made sense that she did not grasp and replied, “My name is Kris.  From what you just said, my friends and team must be close by.  The last thing that I remember, we were flying through a cloud of smoke from a coal fired power plant.  They must have got me out of the sleigh and into your chimney.  I have a sort of magic that lets me fit any chimney flue and come down it to give gifts to the deserving.”

Flutters paused and looked up to the beams overhead.  “Your friends that can fly are up on my roof?  Can we invite them in to warm up?  It seems cruel to leave them up there.”

Kris snorted his amusement.  “Go ahead.  I'm afraid that you will have to be able to fly to do it though.”

She shrugged.  “Not really a problem.  Some of us pegassi do know how to fly!”  

She stepped out and with a flutter of wings, she alighted among the reindeer gathered about her chimney.  “Um, you could all come down into the house and warm up, if that's OK?  You can park the sleigh in the yard for now.  I have to keep Kris for a little longer before I can let him go.”

The answer was a reindeer stampede!  In only moments, they were crowded about Fluttershy's fireplace warming up!

One sarcastically asked, “How does a little pegasus like you plan to keep Kris if he wants to go?”

As if that was a cue, a back room door opened and a bear poked his head into the room.  He had bandages wrapped around his ribs.  Fluttershy popped right over and began probing around on his left side.  Nodding she agreed, “You are OK, now Bruin.  I will get you a snack and then you can go.”

She went into her kitchen and they all heard her purposeful rummaging about. She emerged with a big bowl with a good sized fish, some berries and a chunk of red meat in it and gave it to the bear.

While the bear was eating, Kris asked, “How did he get hurt?”

Flutters looked down and sort of scratched the floor with a hoof as she said softly, “Um, it was my fault.  We were roughhousing, just for fun, you know.  I, I got behind him and got him in a hug.  Kinda cracked two of his ribs.  They are all healed up now, though.”

Kris looked thoughtfully at the bear and observed, “I will wait until you say I can go.  I have to admit that I have no idea how to get back home from here.”

Flutters ducked her head decisively as she let the bear out into the night. “I think that I can help with that.  I know some horses that are experts with portals between worlds.  Let me make some calls.”

She went back into the kitchen.  Soon they heard, “Um, Marchhare?  I, I hate to disturb your Hearthwarming but I have some folks here from another world.  Got here by accident.  One was really sick.  No, I healed him up.  Not demons.  They just need someone who can sort out which world they came from and portal them home.  Wind is there?  She would be perfect!  How soon can she be here?  Thanks, Marchhare.  You Rom are the best!”

Shortly there was a quiet knock at the door.  Fluttershy greeted, “Wind! Marchhare told me that you were dancing the Shehan Ja Rom for the band!  We didn't cut your dance short did we?”

The Cat/Otter hybrid wearing traditional Rom sashes and beautifully tooled harness stepped into the room.  She answered, “No, I took my time and did it right.  Portals allow some adjustments to time, so I came here from twenty minutes ahead of now.  So, who all are we sending back to their home?”

Kris pointed, “All of my team and I.  They will be in harness to the sleigh outside and if it will help, we can fly to whatever point you want us to.”

Wind was pondering as she assessed the group.  “Kris?  Kris Kringle?  So, were you delivering presents when this happened?”

The red nosed reindeer said, “Afraid so.  We lost a lot of time with this detour.  Of course, if Kris had died, it would have been a lot worse.”

Wind smiled, clearly settled now.  “OK, I can not only return you to your world, but too any spot and time of night that you want.  There is no need to lose the time that you were getting Kris fixed up. That Brittle Root Potion is pretty amazing stuff, isn't it?”

Fluttershy ducked into the kitchen and brought out a new bottle, still sealed. She presented it to Kris and suggested, “If you plan to fly in the air that did that to your lungs, you had better have this!  Happy Hearthwarming!”

Kris reached into his bag and produced a large gaily wrapped box that he put on the table.  And for you, a Merry Xmas!  Please share it with Wind.”

Wind produced a map of a world that Fluttershy had never seen and Kris pointed to a place and said, “There, and about five hours past would be just about perfect.”

Wind folded that map and produced a maplike parchment.  “OK, all, it is time to go!”

They all trooped outside and the team slipped into their harness with practiced ease.  Wind pointed to a small puffy cloud, all that was left of the earlier overcast, and said, “I will put the portal in there.  Just fly through the cloud and you will be home.”

Kris shook hands with Wind and gave Fluttershy a friendly pat.  “It has been a pleasure to meet you both.  I hope someday to meet under better circumstances.”

He flicked the reins and the strange looking group took to the air without a single wing to lift them.  Wind and Fluttershy watched them sail into the cloud.  They did not appear to come out.  Flutershy gave a sigh, “Th, They are gone.  It was kind of nice having visitors for Hearthwarming.”

“We do have a present to share,” Wind observed, reading the label on the package.  “To Wind Whisper Soulblade and Fluttershy, with deepest thanks, Kris Kringle.”

Unwrapping revealed a big, deep dish Frostberry pie.  Fluttershy set out plates and Wind sliced the pie.  Hot water on the stove made fine Rom black tea to go with the wonderful pie.

~THE END~

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