#he’s always been kind of a horn dog anyways but you know…

[the-family-business-83]

Unexpected Calling – Part I

Masterlist - WIP

Fandom: Marvel

Prompt: A world class contract killer finds an envelope at his dead drop. Inside are $23.42 in short change and a letter handwritten by a 9-year old girl.

Type: Series

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader's daughter (platonic obviously), Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Genre: fluff, action, slight angst, might get smutty but idk yet

Warnings: Be prepared for some adult language! Nothing too crazy in this first part though, we're just getting started so that's my only warning for now.

Word count: 1.6k

Send me an ask to let me know if you wanna be added to/removed from the taglist!!

This post was Beta'd by @mariekoukie6661. Thanks a million!

A/N: Thought I'd throw my hand at a prompted fic! Hope you guys like it, I'll add a chapter directory and update as needed as the next parts are posted. So stay tuned 👀 Text dividers made by @firefly-graphics <3

Every morning is always the same when you're paid to kill. He'd been trying to be better about the whole actual killing part lately, but that didn't change his morning routine very much. He woke up to the sound of his alarm clock going off—yes, he still used one. If you asked for his reasoning, he'd tell you it's because it's less complicated and you can always count on it to work because it simply stayed plugged into the wall; in the event that the power went out? It had batteries for backup power, and you can't find that kind of peace of mind with just the alarms on your phone. He's still an old soul, sue him. He woke up at 6:45 am, on the dot, every morning without fail that way so it was rather effective.

After the blaring sound of his trusty alarm clock came the process of forcing himself out of bed and cleaning up for the day; shaving if necessary, freshening up, getting dressed, the works. This was generally when he'd change his appearance should the need arise, as well. But he didn't need to do that this morning and so he flicked the light to the bathroom off as he left the room when he was finished, heading out to his kitchen thereafter. The next step? Food. It was always 7 am sharp by the time he got done with his wakeup process, the only time that changed being when he added any extra steps in the bathroom. And breakfast was always simple: a cup of hot black coffee, sliced avocado, and bread toasted to perfection with an egg over medium to be dipped in. And it never failed to be a pleasant way to start his morning, usually followed closely after by a session of watching the morning news. He found it a good way to see what was going on in the area and across the country so he could plan accordingly.

If he didn't have a job, which by chance was the case today, he'd generally find any sort of quiet way to spend the rest of his morning; reading a book, cleaning up all his weapons, or a walk in the park if he felt like it. Today, he felt like it. And it was mostly peaceful, if you excluded the grating sound of car horns, tires squealing, and buses chuffing past. And of course, if you chose to ignore the rumbling from the subway, the people shouting either in their urgency to get to work or just simply because they were an ass, then it was really utterly plain and quiet to walk through Central Park. By this point Bucky had truly gotten used to it. He supposed in some ways it wasn't too much different from his home in the past. But that didn't mean he liked to spend too much time there anyway. So long as he got out and went back home just in time, he could skip the gradeschoolers and dog walkers that came around for the afternoon.

There had been nothing unusual about his day so far, and he liked that. He liked the rhythm of it all, and how it always went according to his carefully curated schedule. He began the process of unlocking his apartment door after making his way up to his floor, and pushed it open to take a step inside. Crunch.

What the helll...?

Bucky frowned as, seemingly, something sat under his boot and crinkled where he'd stepped, making the same sound again as he carefully pried his foot off. The poor, crisply folded, paper envelope that had earlier been slotted through his dead-drop, suffered a dirt-covered footprint but aside from that, it seemed harmless and intact as he picked it up to inspect it. A curious thing to find when you hardly get mail aside from the bills. What was even more curious was the contents within it, feeling a bit lumpy and—quite frankly—heavy for a letter-sized envelope. He closed the door behind himself with one hand, locking it once again out of habit while the other kept hold of the envelope. Moments later he flicked out a switchblade to slice it open revealing not only a handwritten letter but also $23.42.....Exactly. All in small change.

It was quite honestly the oddest thing he'd seen or received to date, and that was including the number of quite-literal backstabs he'd received, numerous other maiming injuries, and the odd encounters he’d had with a talking raccoon, tree, and robot...man…thing. To name a few. That was also including the number of odd jobs he'd been offered and peculiar payment methods he'd been given. Never had he come across such a specific payment with a letter that….upon further inspection….looked as though its penman couldn't be much older than 9 years old, at most.

'Dear mister,

My name is Rosie Jones. I am 9 yeers old. My mommy says you're vary good at helping people. Well, I need your help. Mommy also said you like to be paid for helping, so I broke my piggy bank open so you wood help us. Mommy doesn't know yet thoe, so please don't tell her.

My mommy dissuhpeered disappeered last night. She told me to hide and I did but now I can't find her and so I need your help mister becuz you're really good at finding people too, mommy said so. Please please help me find my mommy, I don't know what to do mister.

– Rosie'

"You've gotta be shitting me." He muttered to himself. The first question Bucky had, quite honestly, was how did this little girl even know who he was? Or where he lived? Not many people did, if any, truth be told. If they did? They were usually dead within minutes. It was one of many reasons that kept his renowned status intact. But here he was, sitting at his own table, with proof that some little girl knew both of those things. Frowning down at the paper and envelope of change, the assassin ran his hand back through his dark brown hair momentarily, processing what he'd just read. On one hand, it could be an elaborate trap. By all rights he had to assume it, considering the nature of the letter and the fact that a little girl of all people had written it. But on the other hand, there was a certain dedication there that he simply couldn't ignore. And some part of him couldn't help but at least look into it. So moments later, the man was pulling out his laptop and began searching for answers, anything that could give this little girl's story any sort of credit.

Much to his surprise? It checked out. Every last bit of it. There was a mother, connected to the Rosie Jones in question, who had gone missing under rather mysterious circumstances. "I'll be damned, mystery kiddo."

'Y/N Jones, aged 37, a single mother, was nowhere to be found the next morning after reports came in that a struggle and silenced gunshots were heard from the house that night.'

He probably could have gotten away with just keeping the money and letting it go. It was some little kid somewhere hoping for someone to hear her plea, he could get away with it. But it was that name…. he'd seen it before, he knew he had. In all fairness though, he really only remembered faces exceptionally well. Names didn't matter in the long run, names didn't tell him who he was shooting within a crowd of people. So why did it keep nagging at the back of his mind?...

Spoiler alert: he shouldn't have went digging. He should have just left it alone. But he had always been a curious mind and he was nothing if not thorough on top of that. Popping open the top to his bottle of whiskey, Bucky carefully poured out a favorable portion into a glass tumbler, before letting it down onto the counter as he heard an agreeable noise coming from his laptop to signal it had finished its task. Glancing over his shoulder, he sipped on his drink as he made his way back over to the table, having waited for what seemed like an hour to get the information he wanted. And the minute he looked at the screen was the very same minute he regretted it.

He knew that face.

He knew it like the back of his hand almost, he knew it the same way he knew the taste of bourbon or the sound of a .22 magnum. That was the face of Y/N Y/L/N and it was a face he had been trying to forget for years now. But most of all he knew it was a mistake to have even touched this with a ten-foot pole. Because now he had a target, he knew what the target looked like, and he had been paid in- well, maybe not-so-full, but in 9-year-old currency $23.42 was basically a million dollars considering it was all her savings.

In short?

He had to do it now.

He knew that. And it damn near made him groan at the prospect. Because this was going to be a long-ass job, and if he was going to ensure the rescue of that little girl's mother, then he needed to ensure that child's safety. The less leverage the 'enemy' had, the easier his job was. So as he sighed out, "Damnitall, this better be fuckin worth it kid," the hundred year old assassin finished off his drink and went about packing his things to take on a job that he never asked for, but knew damn well he was stuck with until it was over.

But at least if he had to go through with this, he was going to be damn sure he did it right, that was for sure.

Taglist: If you weren't tagged it's because I couldn't get it to tag you or I didn't know which account was yours – @aingealcethlenn @deaan @idabbleincrazy @impala-1979 @kadet-jb @myinconnelly2 @princessmisery666 @rosedemica @tvdspngirl314 @darsynia @buckys-zomdoll @cookingglitterfairy @emilyshurley @fictionalabyss @jotink78 @mariekoukie6661 @manawhaat @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @scarletwinchester84 @sorenmarie87 @until-theend-oftheline @starryeyes2000 @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @betweengalaxies2 @focusonspn

#marvel #marvel fanfic series #marvel fanfiction #marvelfanfic #bucky fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #winter soldier #winter soldier fanfiction #wintersoldierfanfic #buckybarnesfanfic #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #reader insert #mcu fanfiction #mcufanfic

[thecandywrites]

Monster Marcjh 2024 - Day 5- Cervitaur

The Velvet Spa

So, same setting, different characters this time. But here's the piece from last year.

The Velvet Spa is a medical spa specifically geared towards tuars of all kinds, either bi-pedal or quadrapedal- of every kind. They do winter coat removal/de-shedding in the spring. Antler growth supliments and special velvet shampoo to help your antlers grow to be the best that they can be. Hoof trimmings year round. Horn shaping and polishing if you have horns vs antlers. Velvet stripping in the fall and antler shedding in the winter and normal- massages, hair styling, facials, eyelash extensions. Micro-dermabrasion, dermaplaning, botox injections.

And in case you're wondering, yes I was absolutely inspired by Girl With The Dogs on Youtube.

As always, thank you to @borealwrites for making an amazing Monster March 2024 Prompt List.

Monster March 2024 Day 5- Taurs - 

The Velvet Spa

“Thank you for calling The Velvet Spa, this is Charlize, how can I help you?” You answered the phone when it rang in the back from it overflowing the calls in the front. It was the spring, that meant deshedding appointments out the wazoo, overbooked schedules and the phone practically ringing off the hook. 

“Charlie! I’m so glad I caught you!” Came the all too familiar voice from the other side of the phone as your shoulders dropped and you almost regretted picking up the phone. Everytime Otto called- it meant, he needed a favor. Big ones. And right now- was not the time to be calling in those favors. It was spring de-shedding time. The place was super busy, your day was booked solid. 

“Otto, I’m booked solid Bud.” You immediately told him. 

“Really? Come on, please? I need a huge favor for a friend. It’s an emergency!” Otto proclaimed. 

“Then go to the Emergency Room.” You insisted. 

“Not that kind of emergency. Come on, please? Name your price Charlie, I need a Hail Savior. Please. I’m desperate and I know you’ll come through. And you’re the best de-shedder in there. And it’s not for me, it’s for a friend. He’s here for a big business thing and he’s from the East Coast and he’s only here for a couple weeks, but he started to shed his winter coat last night and today he’s miserable. And no one de-sheds like you do. I gave him your card and recommended you specifically.” Otto insisted. 

“Then why isn’t he calling me?” You asked. 

“He did! Several times! But you’ve been busy with clients! He tried talking to the front desk people but he got the run around and they can’t get him in while he’s here, he leaves in a few days. But his proposal and big meet is tomorrow morning. My Man can not work his magic and make this deal if he’s sweating his own fur off into his suit, which that’s not good for anyone. It’s a really big deal. It’s his future on the line. Come on Charlie. Please? If you’d just stay late, I’ll buy you dinner, anywhere you want to go or give you a gift card, or bottle of wine or whatever you want. Please. I’ll even make a down payment on half of his services if you can just get him in. Please?” Otto begged as you took a deep breath and a long exhale. 

“Fine. Is he there with you?” You asked. 

“Yes! Thank you. Yeah, let me get him. I’ll make it up to you when I get paid again.” Otto insisted. 

“I’ll take a gift card, for at least a hundred dollars. And you’re lucky you’re family Otto. You’re costing me a dinner date.” You grumbled as you had to pull out your phone and shoot a text to your date that you had to work late and would need to reschedule. You should know better than to try to have any kind of social life during the spring de-shedding season. 

But the date just blew you off for being a “catfish” for dodging another date with him. Oh fuck this dude. You were gonna be making bank tonight. You didn’t have time for his shit anyway. You quickly blocked his ass while you waited for your second cousin to get his “friend” on the phone as he walked through the office building he worked in. 

“Ok, Charlie, meet my friend Antony. Antony, meet Charlize, aka Charlie.” Otto quickly introduced when he handed the phone over. 

“Hi, Charlize was it?” You heard another voice offer. 

“Hi Antony. My name is Charlize, friends call me Charlie. What can I do for you?” You asked in your nicest tone you could muster. 

“I desperately need a deshedding appointment.” He confessed. 

“Of course, let me look up my schedule real quick to see when I can squeeze you in.” You offered when you looked up the schedule on your phone and tried to find an opening. 

“Please, thank you so much for this, it’s an emergency. I have a big presentation at work tomorrow. And I can’t go in looking like a patchy schmuck.” He pleaded as your eyebrows knitted. It had been a little while since you last heard the term ‘schmuck’. But he was from the East Coast, lingo was absolutely localized you suppose. 

“Well, here’s the thing, I think I can squeeze you in at 7. But since it’s an emergency evening appointment, it’s usually double for those.” You warned. 

“Make it triple. I need the works. I need a deshedding treatment and a conditioning treatment as well as a proper full body blow out and brush.” He answered as you nodded in understanding, you figured. You pulled up Otto’s file and filed this under an ‘Emergency Appointment for Friends and Family’ and made an opening in your schedule only to immediately fill it out for this guy as you started adding all of these services to the appointment.  

“Ok. I can do that.” You nodded in agreement. 

“And you said it was at 7 right?” He asked. 

“Yes. If you could get here at a quarter till, that would be best.” You urged him. 

“I’ll definitely be there. I just woke up this morning and with my morning shower, clogged the drain and all day, I feel like I keep dropping clumps of hair under my clothes and I look like a yearling getting their first spring shed, I practically have spots again.” He complained. 

“Oh you poor thing. You know if you get straight lye…” You began. 

“It’ll eat the hair in the drain. Yeah. I know. Already did that at the AirBnB I’m staying in while I’m here.” He confirmed. 

“Good. I would hate for you to have plumbing problems on top of everything else.” You grinned as you set up his services in the system and the appointment. 

Dang it. You were not going to be able to get food until at least 8:30 now. But this guy was about to drop some serious coin at this appointment and even if he left you a minimal tip, it would be enough to buy you dinner at least. 

“Yeah, that wouldn’t be good. Thank you so much for getting me in and getting me in so quickly. Can I like- get you dinner after or something?” He thanked you with overwhelming gratitude. 

“Nah you’re good. I get it, you’re here on business and you’re in a pinch and most people have no control over when they go into the rut or their velvet dies, or when their bodies decide to shed their winter coats. I’m glad I could get you in Antony. I hope you crush it tomorrow.” You offered. 

“Now, I have to take you to dinner.” Antony tried to offer as you could hear his smile through the phone.  

“Really, Antony, you don’t have to, it’s ok. Plus, my boyfriend is making me a rack of lamb for dinner anyway.” You tried to lie. The last thing you needed was a pity date from Mr. East Coast - never-gonna-see-him-again. 

“Oh, ok. Well, I’ll still see you at seven then. I really appreciate it.” Antony graciously offered. 

“You’re welcome. See you at seven.” You offered before you hung up and tried to finish your lunch without eating any hair from any clients. You were going to sweat at least five more pounds of sweat off today in the process. But, your clients needed it. 

You finished off your lunch before you grabbed your gloves and went to the waiting room to get your next client. 

Every client with fur was coming in for the spring de-shed of their fur. Antler shedding was dead of winter, which was always a big boost for the winter holidays. But only some had antlers, some had horns depending on their species and some genders. But winter coat de-shedding? That was everyone, every version of a taur was coming in for de-shedding appointments now. 

And The Velvet Spa? It had the best equipment and the best, most highly trained specialists in the state practically. It was a high end medical spa. And catered to taurs of all kinds. 

The spa had special deshedding shower heads. Where a deshedding specialist could get into a large 2 person shower with a client and give them a full body wash with the de-shedding shower heads and de-shedding shampoo and conditioner. Often, the hair catchers around the drain would just be a glob of shed fur that got put into a special trash bag. Then from there, the client would be moved to a dryer box, or “hurricane cage” with the specialist, who now had a special blow dryer nozzle and would blow dry the client out, all over their body and then once the client was blow dried out, inside the special “hurricane cage”. Then they got a full body brushing and deshedding so that all their hair, from head to toe, or head to hoof in other cases, would get brushed out and would lay right. And then, once that was done, the client would look and feel like a brand new person. 

Thankfully, you were able to get by- in the afternoon as it turned from afternoon to evening by a few fruit and nut granola bars. It wasn’t real dinner by any stretch of the imagination but it was better than nothing and Bianca kept the snacks overflowing during these times in the year just for this purpose. 

You barely made it out to the lobby by 7, after seeing your last client off before you were handed his folder when you saw his receipt stapled to the itemized service order. Holy shit, this man, not only paid for everything you put in here, but left you a huge tip. The largest of the day. Well damn. He meant business. 

“Mr. Morrigan?” You called out before a very handsome cervitaur nearly jumped to his feet and hurriedly came up to you. Damn it, you should have said yes to that date with him. Fuck. Why did you lie to him about the whole boyfriend and dinner thing? Because you didn’t want to be the pity date. Of course, it would figure that he would be the sharpest dressed man in the waiting room. Fuck. He must have been Mr. Big Shot. Damn it! He was only here for a few more days, and you’d never see him again. You were looking for something with a lot more permanence in your love life anyway. So you simply put on a polite smile while inwardly kicking yourself. 

“Yes, that’s me.” He offered. 

“So you’re Otto’s cousin Charlie?” He guessed. 

“Yes. I’m Charlie. Nice to meet you Antony.” You shook his hand. Fuck, he may have been shedding, but the man smelled damn good. His cologne was making your mouth water. 

“So, big presentation tomorrow eh?” You recalled as you had him follow you to the shower room. 

“Yes. It’s a quarterly update, my company got a lot of seed money and it’s a report to the investors on how well said seeds are growing. I’ve been practicing it all week in between being walked through how things are run out here. I’m just really nervous and then to add this surprise shed, might as well be a blown tire on my way to an interview as far as a monkey wrench into things. Normally I have a different place I go to- back east. But I feel silly just flying back, just to get this done, just to try to fly back here in time.” He offered. 

“Oh, I totally get it. And yeah, it’s a lot to risk, just to get de-shed, which to most people who don’t have fur- seems kind of a silly thing, but it’s like- trying to do this with a really bad hair cut and getting your hair destroyed by a newbie hair stylist who was trying to give you auburn and ended up giving you neon purple instead. It’s a big deal and it’s important to look and feel your best.” You readily explained.

“Yes! Exactly!” He nodded. 

“Well, I’m glad I could get you in and this totally counts as a total emergency. Well, here’s your room. Get undressed, put on the bathrobe and then leave the room by the door on the other side. I’ll be locking the room from this side so that no one can come in and steal anything while you’re getting your fur de-shed. Ok? And I’ll meet you on the other side.” You offered before you locked the door and then put his paperwork in the file holder outside the room before you quickly walked around and entered the spa from the back and got your bay prepared while he undressed.

He came out the other side, with just a towel around his waist. God damn, he was jacked and hulking. He must have had one hell of a rack over the winter too. Figures, of course he was, this could not get any better or, worse depending on your point of view. He may have had at least four inches of fur all over, but you could see those pecks and abs from here. Lord have mercy. God damn it, a pity date with Mr. Gorgeous didn’t sound so bad now did it? 

“Ok, we’re in here.” You gestured to the shower stall, that was frosted at waist height to preserve some modesty to them as you put on your special shield and gloves after filling the canister on the special shower nozzle with one hand and your special shower scrubber in the other hand. 

“Ok, do you want to go face first or back first?” You asked. 

“Uhh, back?” He asked. 

“Ok, feet or hooves in second position. You will want to put your hands on the bar though once you adjust the temperature of the water to your liking.” You gently warned him before you used the toe of your waders to kick over a special stool to step on and not slip so you could get to the top of his head behind him as he turned the rain shower over him on and turned it up to a hot temperature as the stall filled with steam before he took a moment to get wet and relax for a moment before you went in and took the special nozzle and started washing the top of his head, seeing the now fuzzed over patches where his antlers would be growing out in the summer and fall. 

You would make swipes with the deshedding shampoo nozzle with one hand and used your massaging scrubber in the other. 

Antony could do little but moan and groan in pleasure as all kinds of hair got un-impacted down his body. 

He put his hands splayed out on the shower wall and simply melted into this. His ears drooped and his shoulders sagged as even his belly softened as his eyes closed in serenity. As you could see in the reflection of the glass on the inside that he got an erection too. 

It was seen as unprofessional to appraise a client’s genitalia, but- he had been blessed with more than just good looks. But you kept your eyes and your focus on the professional service you were offering, as the professional you were doing your best to be. You went from his head, to his neck, to his shoulders and back, even his rear. And down the back of his legs. 

“Ok, turn around so I can do the front please.” You requested before his eyes snapped open before his hands covered his erection as he seemed to look around for something to use to hide it. 

“Sir, it’s a natural reaction to the service. It happens to everyone. It’s ok. But if you really are uncomfortable, I can get you a hand towel.” You calmly and patiently offered. 

“No, I’m…I’m sorry. I’m just…I’m just not used to this. I mean, I have place back home that does something like this but…I’m just not used to having this…bad of a reaction and I’m so sorry. You’re an amazing professional, I’m so sorry.” He tried to justify as it was clear it was practically painful for him and the harder he tried to get his erection to go away, the harder it got and the higher it speared the air. 

“Really, Antony, it’s ok. I’m used to it. Even the old geezers get this reaction. And with them, I worry about them fainting because for them, it’s been decades since they’ve popped a boner and they’re not used to the blood flow being away from the head on their shoulders and we worry they’ll faint and slip and break a hip or break the one thing no man ever wants to break.” You tried to joke which got him to snort a laugh. 

“Here.” You put the scrubber down and gave him a hand towel to cover himself, because a little washcloth was not going to cover it.

“Thank you.” He thanked you as he used it to wrap around himself before he turned around and then closed his eyes and avoided your gaze as you rolled your eyes and changed out the bottle of deshedding shampoo into the nozzle before you continued with the process of washing his front, with the same care and attention that you had given his back. 

You also couldn’t help but notice he was subtly stroking his cock with the now wet and soapy hand towel. 

Whatever, at least he wasn’t propositioning you. And at least, he wasn't asking you to “take care of it” for any price. Which he would automatically dismissed as a client if he did. Surely, he knew the rules, same as you. 

“So, how long have you been working here?” He asked as he opened his eyes and watched as you washed one arm down while the other hand now kept the hand towel in place. 

“A year and a half.” You answered. 

“Well, I can see and feel why. This place was very highly recommended by everyone I worked with. Whether they were taur or not.” He appraised. 

“We work hard to keep our reputation as sterling as it is.” You offered as you got his belly and did what you could to work around his groin.  

“So…were you named after Charlize Theron or….?” He asked as you grinned. Very few guys tried that line. Was he subtly still flirting with you?

“Nope. I was supposed to be a boy, I was supposed to be born as a Charles. But then when I came out a girl, Charlize was close enough, and still a ‘Charlie’ either way.” You answered as you sat at your ankles then knelt at his feet to get at his quads better as you ignored the way his cock bobbed next to your head. 

Shit, were you ovulating? Why were you taking notice of every little detail with him? You had been cool with all of your other clients today, why was he sticking out so much? Maybe you needed to hit that vibrator in your car after work. Something. Or perhaps it was regret on exactly what you had lied to turn down. Probably regret. 

“Oh shit.” He groaned when you got to the top of his foot where the fur got finer before it would fade to an otherwise human looking foot as you grinned smugly and then really put your weight into the scrubber to scrub at his feet and ankles. 

“Why does that feel fucking phenomenal?” He asked as he couldn’t help but lean forward with his hands suddenly braced on his knees, letting you get an eyeful. But at least he was leaning on himself and not on you. 

“The especially fine fur on the backs of your hands and wrists and feet and ankles and muzzle, rarely gets the deep scrubbing that the rest of you gets. Even though it needs it just as much.” You answered before you switched to the other foot. 

“How expensive is that scrubber thing?” He asked. 

“Not any more expensive than any other scalp massager. We sell them out front, we sell this one and then cheaper options and more expensive options too. You can buy one before you leave.” You answered as you had to kneel and sit back on your feet and really get down to scrub as he was acting like this was some kind of religious experience. 

“How much is it to just get good scrub downs like this?” He asked. 

“Only $75 for full body scrub downs, during regular business hours, a hundred and fifty for after hours.” You answered.

“When are you available to do this again? Because you’re going way harder and doing a way better job than the girls back east ever do it.” He wondered. 

“Oh, well some specialists have a much softer touch and much gentler techniques for most things period. I’m obviously not. I’m much heavier handed than most are. For some though, I’m a bit too aggressive, others, especially when there’s impaction with fur or hair, need a more vigorous approach. Because it takes far too long to get the impaction loose if you go soft. And I don’t usually have that kind of time to take with every single client. Especially in the busy spring winter coat- de-shed.” You shrugged.

“There, any spots I should get again?” You asked as you rinsed off his hand towel and handed it back to him to cover over himself. 

“Oh, yeah, sorry. I’m, I’m good. Thanks.” He sheepishly took it to cover over himself awkwardly again.  

“Ok, let’s get you rinsed.” You nodded as you took off the canister and twisted the face to get the right setting and then got up on your stool. 

“And close your eyes.” You instructed before he did and held his breath while you got his face before you took the spray away to scrub at the soft, shorter, finer hair around his face and head again before rinsing it off. Then you moved to his neck and chest, and got his arms and belly then, had to ignore his groin to get his hips and legs. 

“And turn around please.” You made a motion for him to turn before he did as you got back on the stool and got the back of his head, down his neck, then his shoulders as you ignored his subtle stroking of himself as you got to his butt and suddenly his strokes were faster as he leaned against the glass and had his eyes closed as you worked down from his rear to his hamstrings then his calves and ankles before he was pumping himself almost at a heinous pace as you just shook your head.

So much for being subtle. Men were always going to be men you supposed.  Maybe it was best you were seeing this, pop this attraction bubble you were in, and slip you right back into reality. You were a specialist, he was a client, leave it at that, period.

At least his body only tensed a moment later and he kept his sounds down before you got the special squeegee to try to get a fair bit of water out of his fur so you wouldn’t be in the hurricane room too long. 

“Better?” You asked once you finished as he seemed to get himself together. 

“Yeah, much, thanks.” He said as his cock was now, clearly softening. 

“That can go here, in the dirty laundry.” You urged him once you had turned the water off and took your face shield off and shoved your hood back too to keep your head from getting wet as you readily got the room cleaned around him and rinsed out the canisters to be refilled tomorrow. 

“If you’ll follow me to the hurricane booth.” You invited as you had him follow you across the room where a special booth was as you went and grabbed a special hat and hair net to keep you from inhaling any of his fur before you closed the door behind him and then turned on the vents as the air current around the room picked up. 

“Ready?” You asked. 

“Yup.” He nodded before you took the special nozzle and then used the super powerful blow dryer to power dry him, head to toe as you weren’t surprised when it was like it was a furnado in there for several hot minutes as you blew out his coat as the fan and circulation caught all the blown fur only a few moments after it detached from his body as you used a thicker metal de-shedding comb to get the bigger clumps. 

Granted, he was a big guy, but you still managed to get him dry and get out of there before you brought him back to his room to brush him out propper, grinning when he was groaning and moaning again. Maybe he was just unusually stressed and or touch starved. Probably both. 

Once you got him all brushed out, he did look so much better. Nice and clean, lean and neat and his fur practically had a satin sheen as it laid down in it’s natural pattern. 

“Ok, well, my job is done here. Feel better? Happy with how it turned out?” You asked him as you nodded to the full size mirror on the wall.

“Yes. You did an amazing job, thank you so much for getting me in on such short notice. I’ll schedule back with you when you have an available appointment when I’m in town next.” He insisted.

“I’d look forward to working with you again too.” You offered with another nod before you got out and walked around to get his paperwork and checked a few things off before handing it back to the front desk for when he would check out before you walked back into the back, eager to get out of this damn wader suit and wet gear. Although you were sure, you probably needed another shower yourself. But for now. You just needed to get your shit and clock out and get to your car where your vibrator was practically calling your name. 

You did just that, happy when there was a few hundred dollars cash that you could put into your wallet from cash tips and got out of there. Walking quickly to where you had backed your car into a parking space so you could just pull out of there.

You quickly got into your car and turned it on just enough to crack the windows to let the warm spring air in and so the windows wouldn’t fog up if you took a few minutes to get off. You quickly grabbed your vibrator and your little bottle of lubed and reached into your scrubs and under your gut and under your fupa to get at your mound and slip the lube around your nub while the vibrator took a second to warm up under your belly and between that and into the crux of your belly and thigh before you grabbed it and manuvered it in your pants before you managed to slip it in and then into position that when you would “sit” normally, the handle would just have enough contact with the seat that you’d be able to move it with just your core without having to keep a hold of it with your hands.

You turned the car off and then popped your headphones into your ears because you did not want what you were going to be playing to be loud enough for anyone to hear but you and got an incognito tab open, your favorite porn site, your favorite trope typed in, your favorite video soon popped up and you grinned excitedly.

The one with exceptional visuals and even better audio. The one where you could really hear the guy’s grunts, his growls, his snarles, his big heavy breathing that matched his big, heavy, furry, “monsterous” form. One that would fuck you senseless, the kind that used you without asking for permission, the kind that dominated you and you said ‘thank you’. The kind that was hung like a draft horse if not a brama bull and would really bulge your already plump and soft belly. The kind that would use you like a cocksleeve and fuck you until your mind broke. The kind that was strong enough to lift you and move you like a doll, and make your rolls jiggle and whose large hands would still get ample hold of your thighs and ass and breasts and belly. The kind that blew your back out and would make you look like you stuck a fork into a light socket and practically rearrange your guts while making your insides grin like an idiot. The kind that would choke you, spank you, rough you up just enough to shut you up and turn you into the kind of "good girl" most bad guys loved. But who could be wild and "tamed" and be tender and affectionate only moments after. That kind. 

You turned it on and melted into the experience and slipped into the fantasy and took a long, exhale as the tension in your chest started to melt as you ground down into the vibrator’s touch, canting it forward so it would really work over your G-spot while the rabbit would press against your clit. You had spent almost a heinous amount on this particular vibrator but it was perfect and worth it. You didn’t need much. You barely needed one whole video before you couldn’t help but lull your head back and scrunch your face as you bit your lip as your legs went straight and ridged. Your belly fluttered as your lower back got that good release and deep relax. A pleasured grin bloomed on your features as you opened your eyes and then looked out of the windshield. 

Then movement out of the corner of your eye as you turned to see Antony, sitting in the front seat of his huge SUV rental, across the way and down a bit. Shit, had he been there this whole time?! Fuck. Oh this could be a disaster. What was he doing back here? And what was he looking for? Shit, he saw you and smiled and was walking over after he got out of his vehicle. 

Shit! This vibrator was quiet but not that quiet. He would definitely be able to tell. You quickly reached for the vibrator to turn it off as subtly as you could before he approached and leaned over to talk to you out of your car window.

“Oh good you didn’t leave yet!” He smiled as you reached forward to turn the car back on just enough to roll the window down all the way as you got your headphones out of your ears so you could hear him.

Oh good, he had just gotten there. Ok, you could still salvage this. 

“No, not yet.” You shook your head no as you put on a customer service smile. 

“Can I help you with something?” You asked politely as your pussy clenched around the vibrator and you could only hope he would be oblivious to what you were really doing as you damned your cheeks for flushing as red as a beet. 

“Uh, yeah, uh, sorry.” He stuttered and stammered as he shook his head violently as if that would knock the right words into his mouth as you saw his nostrils flare as he took a few deep breaths through his nose. Fuck could he smell you too?! This couldn’t get any worse. 

“So, about, in there.” He felt obligated to say as it was clear he was frustrated and flushed as the fur around his cheeks looked practically pink as he tried to shuffle his weight from one foot to the other. Shit, was he getting hard again? Why was he affecting you? Or were you affecting him?

“It’s ok. Antony. I get it. Sometimes that physical reaction gets so intense that you need to take care of it, because it’s easier and faster than waiting for it to go away. It’s ok. That’s why we have all those washcloths and hand towels in there in the first place. You didn’t cross the line and proposition me, if anything you tried to be subtle and discreet about it. Every first timer goes through it. It’s awkward, but it’s normal.” You tried to reassure him as you felt rather hypocritical about it too, with your pussy currently being stuffed with your biggest vibrator you could manage to still be discreet in your car in the parking garage. 

“Yeah, thanks for the reassurance, um…I hope dinner with your boyfriend is as delicious as it should be. He’s lucky to have you.” He offered as he tried to take a half step back, as you sighed and groaned and whimpered. 

“Ok, I gotta come clean Dude. I don’t have a boyfriend, let alone one who would even think that having dinner ready by the time I would come home -would ever be an option. Let alone one who would have the cooking prowess to even know how to cook a rack of lamb, much less have such a thing ready on a regular thursday night that wasn’t some super special occasion, like a birthday, or an anniversary. It was a lie. I just didn’t want a pity date. Plus the Spa has a very firm- no dating clients- thing. And you were in a super tight spot and I would be scum if I took unfair advantage of you, especially when you were in an hour of need.” You confessed as your cheeks were now probably permanently flushed as you didn’t even have the heart to look up past your steering wheel. 

“Charlize, first off, you absolutely deserve to have a partner in life who absolutely would and should have dinner ready by the time you get home. You work really hard and you work smart. You had great body mechanics and wonderful effectiveness. And hopefully you make enough doing it to provide you with the lifestyle you deserve. I asked you out because you’re really sweet and lovely and one hell of a professional. And because Otto was sure that you were single. If you don’t like me or think less of me because I had a moment of weakness, that’s more than fair. But at the very least, when you get a chance, come to Aurora Boreallis, give them this ok? And have a night on the town, on me.” He offered as he gave you a business card and then an electronic card from the casino. It looked like one of those charge cards at Dave and Busters but obviously, from the casino. 

“Thanks.” You thanked him as you took it. 

“So, first off, I asked you out before you took me on as a client. I don’t know how things are done out here. But back east, if there was already a previous relationship before any professional service, there can be one after. I’m still interested in taking you out on a date. But the question remains, are you interested or not?” He asked. 

“Oh, I am, but, not tonight. It’s late, I’m tired, I need sleep. Tomorrow is gonna be just as busy but I’m off on Sunday.” You offered. 

“I can do that. How about brunch on Sunday?” He offered. 

“Sounds awesome.” You grinned before you exchanged phone numbers. 

“See you Sunday.” You offered him before you both went your separate ways.

#Monster March #Monster March 2024 #Monster March 2024- Day 5- Taurs #The Velvet Spa #Modern Fantasy #Deer Minotaur

[jasntodds]

The Lucky Ones [2]

Pairing: Bartender!Tom Holland x Reader

Words: 3,842

Warnings: Swearing, fluff? Kind of? lol 

Summary: What happens when a cynic and a hopeless romantic have a chance encounter?

A/N: I definitely got the idea of the reader’s date from Reddit lol I hope you guys like this!! Lemme know what you guys think!! Next chapter will be up on Thursday!!

series masterlist | masterlist | tag list

Lights are still on when you enter your apartment, not really a surprise since Jess has been texting you up until five minutes ago. The pitter-patter of small feet trot to you as you close the door.

“Atlas!” You bend down, a smile splitting your face as you pet the black and white dog. “Who’s a good boy?” You scratch behind his floppy ears.

“Where the hell were you?” Jess asks, arms crossed as she walks towards the doorway.

“I told you, I was cooling off after the bad date.” You shrug her off, not wanting to go into details about Tom via text.

If you did tell Jess you were with another guy, Jess might get the wrong idea, think maybe it was a second date you neglected to tell her about. Or worse, Jess might think it's some type of signal that wasn't previously discussed and Jess would have shown up in fear for you. She's a great friend for that but she's also seen one too many true crime documentaries and you don't want Jess just showing up worried some cute boy is kidnapping you.

“Yeah, but you’re never out this late and you weren’t answering your phone. I thought you were kidnapped.” Jess’s voice is hinted with a slight bit of annoyance and panic.

“You and I both know they’d return me. I’m annoying.” You deadpan as you stand up, kicking your shoes off on the shoe rack. “Um, yeah…” You furrows your brows. “A weird thing happened though.”

“Mhm,” Jess quirks a brow, the displeased expression not budging.

“Met a guy.” You chortle, walking past Jess towards the kitchen with Atlas right behind you. “Like after the date, it’s why I wasn’t answering.”

Jess shakes her head, pulling out a chair and gesturing a hand in front of her. “Is he cute?” The worry has evaporating from her tone and is now replaced with curiosity.

“I mean…yeah.” You laugh, your cheeks heating up as you think back to Tom just half an hour prior. “He had a bad date, too so that was….weird.”

“Oh my gosh!” Jess squeals.

“What?” You narrow your eyes, knowing what the squeal meant.

“Maybe it’s fate!” She beams, toothy smile and wide eyes on you as you show no interest in the thought, leaning against the counter with your arms crossed. "A meet-cute!"

“No.” You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Fate doesn’t exist. We make choices and those choices have results.”

“Ugh.” Jess rolls her eyes right back. “You're a cynic.”

You place your hands on the counter, lifting yourself up to sit. “You're,” You point to Jess. “Credulous.”

“I’m just saying like maybe….” Jess offers.

“Anyway, no, we’re gonna go on really bad dates and see who gets the worst ones.” You say with excitement and the wiggle of your brows, cutting Jess off.

You don't normally cut Jess off but Jess is so in love with the idea of love that it drives you completely insane. Jess is the kind of person who believes in fate and destiny, love at first sight. She's had her share of bad break ups but Jess seems to always bounce back super fast because, the way she sees it, it just wasn't meant to be and her one true person is out there somewhere. She was supposed to go through that bad breakup to eventually lead her to the person she's supposed to be with. It makes you want to bang your head against a brick wall until you pass out. You believe in taking fate and destiny by their horns and doing whatever the fuck you want. But, maybe you’re a little envious of how Jess views it all. She seems happier.

Jess’s face contorts and scrunches as if she were solving the answer to the creation of the universe. “That’s weird. You’re going to intentionally go on bad dates?”

“Yeah,” You nod, slowly, looking up and back to Jess. “Yeah, I hear why that’s weird now.” You laugh softly, shaking your head with a shrug. “I’m gonna do it anyway, maybe it’ll be fun, you love my date stories.”

“Remember that guy that brought his snake on the date because he thought you could cure it?” Jess laughs, head in her hands.

“And it was just digesting its food like a normal reptile!” You yell, shaking your head with a laugh. “I did advise him to go to the vets office, though if he’s worried as I did not have an X-ray and I’m not a vet.”

“That’s my favorite story.” Jess giggles softly.

She worries about you. She’s your best friend and she worries because you have all these bad dates stories and she knows you better than anyone else in the world. Jess can see past the disdain and disgruntled eye rolls you give her when she talks about true love. Somewhere inside of your detached heart, she knows you’re lonely. It’s why you keep going on bad dates. She wants you to be happy. You can be happy on your own but...she knows you’ve always wanted someone, too.

“See, bad dates come with good stories.” You wink at Jess.

”I guess.” Jess sighs. “So, new guy make your bad date not so bad?”

“Yeah,” You voice is soft and a sad but gentle smile comes to your face. “It was nice, he was really nice.” Your phone dings in her pocket. You pull it out and the sadness of your smile dissipates into something that actually seems happy.

“Make it home ok?”

“Good.” Jess smiles, deciding not ask any questions while you type away at the keyboard.

You’ll do this thing where if anyone starts asking too many questions, you’ll shut down and drop anything and everything of the topic. After a bad date, you’re usually in a bad mood for the rest of the night, not that some random guy ruined a night or that you had a lot of hope going into the date but because it’s more like that’s one less person you don’t mesh with. It makes you feel alone, in the department of romance. Those people are typically assholes but it hurts and is more of a disappointment to yourself than anything else. But, Jess is watching you smile as you type away, knowing it has to be the new guy because you wouldn’t be smiling if it were anyone else. So, Jess doesn’t push, she lets you be.

While Jess goes to her room, you grab a leash for Atlas and take him out for a quick walk before bed, just up and down the sidewalk, all while texting Tom. You weren’t sure if he’d actually text you at all but you really didn’t expect a text from him tonight. It’s kind of nice. And you aren’t talking about anything in particular, just talking about what you’ll do for the rest of night and the next day. You both have work and plans to go bed soon. It’s nothing special but you find yourselves with bubbling stomachs and you both chalk it up just talking to someone new who you happen to find attractive and that’s it.

Over the next week, Tom and you continue your texting. You have a little different sleep schedules but you seem to make plenty of time for each other. Conversation seems to flow. It’s usually about your dogs or family, sometimes it’s about pop culture or a TikTok you saw. You’re mostly just enjoying having someone new to talk to that isn’t a complete jerk. But you’ve also been active in your dating profiles, matching with a few people here and there. The goal is to have a date for Monday night, figuring Tom’s schedule is a little easier to work with instead of trying to go on dates at 2am and it not sounding like a one-night stand deal.

Now, it’s Monday and you’re sitting at that booth where you met in that one diner. You’re giddy, stomach doing flip flops and a smile etched across your face as you wait for Tom. Part of you is excited to tell him about the bad date you had that didn’t even finish but the other part, is actually just excited to see the boy with brown eyes and a goofy eyebrow. He’s been on your mind more than anyone else has.

“Hey.” Tom greets with a cheeky grin, dressed in a navy button-down shirt and black slacks.

“Hey.” You greet as Tom sits across from you. “How was the walk?” And it’s like a swarm of butterflies all escape from their cocoons at the same time in your stomach.

“Bit chilly.” Tom chuckles, summer finally coming to an end. “Yours?”

You’re wearing a maroon sweater, your hair doesn’t seem to be done in a special style, nothing special, really but Tom thinks you look beautiful. He can feel the giddiness in his knees as he watches you hug yourself and the tint of a smile tug one corner of your mouth. In this moment, he can't believe he's thinking about how he missed seeing you. One night, after just one night, he missed seeing you as if you were old friends reconnecting for something more. It's an odd feeling so he shakes it off as you answer him.

“Cold.” You laugh as the server comes over to see if you know what you’re going to order.

You had plenty of time to figure out what you would get and Tom looked at the menu while he walked over, figuring if he didn’t have to look at the menu, you’d have more time to talk. You have work in the morning so he figures you won’t want to be out too late.

You both place your orders with the server before you jump into your conversation.

“So, how was your date?” Tom asks, taking a drink of his water.

“Oh, the usual, he clipped his toenails on the table.” You look at Tom, your voice nonchalant as you wait for the reaction you know is going to be good.

Tom coughs, nearly choking and you laugh, tilting your head back. “I’m sorry, on?”

“That’s what you’re concerned about? Not him, cutting his toenails in the middle of a restaurant on a date? But that he took it a step further and cut them on the table?” You question through your laughter, waving your hand around.

“No! I’m fuckin’ concerned for it all but…at least if it were under the table…” Tom says quietly, gaining a smirk as he tries to hold back his laughter.

“GROSS. NO, YOU DON'T CUT YOUR TOENAILS IN A RESTAURANT. That’s so unsanitary.” You scrunch your face into a disgusted scowl.

“I agree but on the table just pushed it over another line.” Tom chuckles. “What’d ya do?” He asks wishing he could have seen the look on your face when this went down.

“I blinked for a few seconds, said I had to go to the bathroom, found our server and warned them. Then I apologized and explained this was the first time I met him and then I gave her $30 as a tip. Then I left.” You laugh. “So I’ve been here forty-five minutes.”

“You could have texted.” Tom groans, his date sucked, too and he would have left had he known you were here alone.

“Oh, no, I didn’t to let my stomach settle because his toenails were also filthy and his feet smelled. The bottom of his foot was black like he had stepped in tar.” A shiver runs down your spine thinking about it in more detail again.

“Did he have shoes?!?”

“MHM. He took off his shoe, took off his sock, then put his foot on the table. Then took out toenail clippers from his shirt pocket.” You scoff. “He was...prepared. I was sure I was being Punk’d.”

“What in the fuck?” Tom laughs. “Where do you find these people?”

“I think they find me, surely I have to give off a vibe at this point.” A huff leaves your throat as the smile finally falls. It’s like the realization about another bad date is settling in.

“Nah, it’s not you. It’s them.” Tom assures you with a scoff and he catches the twitch of a smile back on your face.

“I swear, it was gross.” You shake your head. “How about yours?”

“Uh, well, she told me she was there to make her boyfriend jealous who was also there with a friend.” Tom nods as he smacks his lips.

“Really?” You scoff. You would have traded anything to have been on that date instead of with Toenails.

“Yeah, then the whole time she just talked about him and I guess this is something they both do.” Tom lets out an exasperated sigh. “They get jealous and go on a date with someone to make the other jealous.”

“Mhm, yes, the completely normal and healthy thing to do.” You nod quickly, pursing your lips in fake agreement.

“Right? He also saw and was giving me a look the whole time. It was awkward.” Tom looks down and back up to you, defeat in his eyes.

“That’s just weird.”

“Not as weird as toenail guy. I think you won this round.” Tom huffs with a smile.

You do a pitiful bow in your seat. “Finally, I’ve won something.”

Tom laughs. “I don’t think that’s something you want to win.” He shakes his head but the smile on his face is as steady as a rock.

“Oh, I’m very competitive, don’t underestimate me.” A cornered grin comes to your face.

Tom chuckles. “Riiiggghhhttt.” Tom clears his throat.

It falls silent for a few minutes as the server brings out your meals. In the wake of talking about your bad dates, you almost feel a little hopeless. Here's this guy who's attractive, seems to dress well, is funny, and really nice and even he can't catch a break. If someone like him can't catch a break in the world of romance, how will you? You’re the person who tends to come off a bit cold and detached, sometimes is a bit too snarky. If he can't find someone, how will you?

Tom, on the other hand, finds himself wondering why he agreed to this in the first place. He knows that if you were to have made this a date, it would have been the first good date either of you have been on in awhile. You've gotten along just fine the two times you've met and texting has been a lot of fun. You’re so pretty and funny and he loves how snarky and sarcastic you are. But, he keeps going back to the fact that it’s you and if you were to go on a date, maybe it'd blow up in your faces. Maybe you're both just cursed.

“You know, Jess had a date tonight.” You let out a sigh, cutting into your food.

“Oh?” Tom raises a brow, glancing from his food to you.

“Mhm, she was talking to him awhile which ya know, in hindsight, might be our problem. We don’t talk to people long enough before we decide to meet up with them.” A half-scoff half-laugh leaves your throat as you look away from Tom.

“Ah, ya, the bad dates are consistently our fault.” Tom huffs with a smile.

“In toenail’s defense, what was he supposed to say? ‘Hey I’m gonna cut my toenails at the dinner table?’ That would be one hell of an opening line.”

“You would have went out with him anyway just to see if he was serious.” Tom starts laughing. “Or, uh, you would have done it to win.”

“An excellent point has been made.” You mock. “Anyway, she was talking to him for awhile, pretty excited about it.” You poke at your food.

Your reaction to your best friend having a date catches Tom off guard. You don’t seem too happy about it and he can’t help but wonder why. Surely, you’re not the type of person who gets bitter or jealous because your friend has a better date. The way you’re poking at your food and chewing the inside of your cheek, he thinks it’s deeper than that.

“You not happy for her?” Tom asks, giving you his attention instead of his food.

“No, I am, it’s just…she doesn’t have bad dates. She comes home and either has a good time and it just doesn’t work out for one reason or another or….she had a good time but they don’t work, I guess. Envious, I suppose, of her…..unwavering belief in soulmates.” You shrug as you take a bite of your food.

“Don’t believe in soulmates?” Tom raises a brow.

“Nope, I think it’s a load of shit. I think people fall in love, over time. But that is not definite or infinite. It happens and it either works or it doesn’t. You gotta put effort into it but there’s not like a destiny or something all mapped out leading you to your one true love or whatever. Fate, destiny, whatever you wanna call it, doesn’t dictate how you’re gonna feel about people. It just happens because of a decision you made. Not the universe.” You clear your throat, watching as Tom shifts in his seat a little. You regret the rambling because he's giving you the same look Jess does. “You believe don’t you?”

Tom shrugs, a tiny grin tugging at his lip. “What’s the harm?”

“No harm, probably better to believe in that stuff in the long run.” Your voice is nonchalant as you shrug your right shoulder.

A faint, sad smile grosses Tom’s lips just for a split second, and he hopes you don’t notice. But you do. “At least she tries, ya know? Haz hasn’t, uh, been on a damn date or even really talked to anyone in…I don’t remember how long. He doesn’t believe in any of it either. Envious of that sometimes.”

“Why?” Your brows furrow, never hearing someone feel envious towards a cynic before.

“He doesn’t feel he needs to be with someone, bit cynical like you.” Tom gives you a side smile, his eyes softening as he looks at you.

“Mhm, the two hopeless romantics pick two cynics as best friends. A tale as old as time.” You deflect the look he gives you with sarcasm, hoping to soften the booming of thunder in your chest.

“Oh shut the fuck up.” Tom groans, and the light comes back to his face.

“We should hook them up.” You change the topic from you two and go to your friends.

Sometimes, conversations get too deep and this one was heading there. You have no problems in telling people how you feel about things. It's never something that's bothered you much but you don't know Tom and a part of you worries that the more you talk in depth about your view of true love, or lack thereof in this case, it'll scare him off. And he’s asking a few too many questions about it.

“What?” Tom coughs. “Didn’t you just say she was on a date?”

“Mhm, I don’t like him.” You continue to eat your food casually.

“You haven’t met him? Have you?”

“Nope. It’s a vibe.” Your eyes widen and Tom can't tell if you’re being serious or facetious.

“Judging people on vibes now.” Tom nods along, waiting for further explanation.

“Gotta pass the vibe check.” You keep a straight face and Tom still cannot tell if you’re being serious or not so he decides to just play along.

“And I suppose I do?” Tom raises his brows, narrowing his eyes just slightly with the question, breaking the straight face you were holding.

“Do you?” You quip.

“You do.” Tom wiggles his brows and you stutter.

In the week you’ve been talking, Tom’s noticed you have a habit of always having some smart or snarky remark to anything. You’re quick. But now he’s made you stutter and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t make his heart skip a single beat and feel like a kickdrum in his chest.

“Always do. I’m a prize.” You hold your head up high with burning cheeks.

“You won worst date, again, not something you should be happy about.” Tom quips back.

“If you say so.” You shrug. The thundering in your chest is officially becoming a little concerning. Are you having a heart attack? You know you’re not because it’s only when he looks at you like that. With a cheeky grin and big brown eyes that could stop time if he wanted. The thundering is becoming almost too much to ignore. Almost. “Anyway, I don’t like him. She showed me some messages and, I don’t know.” You scrunch your nose. “He seemed…off. I didn’t like it. But, you’re cool so you’re best friend probably is.”

“Is this your way of just trying to see me outside or our bad dates?” Tom asks, fully hoping to make you pause again and you do.

This stupidly cute boy is making you lose your touch in sarcastic wit. So, you play along.

“Maybe.” You grin, hoping he’ll switch back to the topic because maybe the reason you brought it up is to see him outside of these dates without having to ask.

This time it's Tom who pauses and you take notice. A sense of triumph comes over you with the millisecond of a pause. And all Tom can think about is seeing you outside these dates. If hooking up your friends is a way to do that without going on a date or making it sound like a date, that's perfectly fine with him.

Tom sighs. “Right, okay, working tomorrow. You and Jess could come by ‘round 8. I’ll make sure he’s there.”

You smile wide, a little surprised he agreed. “We will be there.” Your phone dings with your words, Jess’s name popping up on your phone. “This was fun, I have to go.” You shake your phone in Tom’s direction before going to your bag for your wallet. "Ironically enough, Jess's date didn't go well."

“I got it.” Tom offers. “Good luck.” There’s a sadness in his smile now.

“No, we’ll split it.” You shake your head, turning the offer down. This isn’t a date.

Tom sighs. “Consider it your prize for winning.”

You laugh, pausing to look at him. “I thought it wasn’t something I should be proud of?”

“It’s not.” Tom chuckles. “All the more reason to pay for your food.” His eyes are soft and warm with his words.

“Alright, you win and I’ll pay.”

Tom nods. “Yeah, alright.”

You gather your things, catching a glimpse of Tom from the corner of your eye and you can’t help but notice the look of sadness. It’s faint, it’s not like he’s pouting or sulking. There’s just something with the way he’s finishing his food that seems sad now.

You walk beside him, Tom looking up to you and he’s got this puppy dog look that sends warmth through every one of your veins. “I think you’re great, just for the record. Not, just as a company after a bad date.” You offer him the softest smile Tom has seen from you yet. Tom smiles, looking down. “I’ll see you, tomorrow.”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow, I’ll text you the address.” Tom’s cheeks flush with the kickdrum banging in his chest.

You turn to walk away and before you reach the door, you pause. “Also, for the record,” You say looking over your shoulder back at Tom. “I really like hanging out with you.”

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Tag list: @teen--marvel // @spiderboytotherescue // @softholand // @thsummersoldier // @enilemes // @namoreno​ // @lmmp89 // @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah​ // @lauras-collection​ // @litimmyst // @petertinglle​ // @liltimmyst​ // @shirukitsune​

#tshwritersnet #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x yn #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland blurb #tom holland imagines #tom holland blurbs #the lucky ones

[darkhighness]

Good Omentober Day 22 - Horns

Prompt by @disaster-dog

Crawly faces an old friend and afterwards seeks the comfort of his Angel.

Timeline isn’t entirely canon-compliant.

As Crawly sat in front of Lucifer, feeling like some small child, they couldn’t help but stare at the leader, trying to find the face of a former friend who had been destroyed by the war. Instead of the soft angelic features they’d come to know, there was a horned beast in front of them, promising to rain hell on a domain that used to be home.

“Crawly, you’re not really demonic, are you? Hardly scary. Have you considered a change of corporation?” Lucifer growled, the low guttural sound hardly welcoming.

“I prefer to work in the shadows, anyone. I don’t think it’s matters what I look like,” Crowley bit back, watching the surprise cross Lucifer’s face.

“I don’t know who you think you are, Crawly. You have no power here.”

Crawly smirked slightly, raising an eyebrow, “And you do? How many of these demon’s listen to you anyway?”

“I prefer to let the Princes handle it.” Lucifer groaned in frustration.

Crawly hummed in faux understanding before continuing to drive the blade in further, “ Ah yes, the Dukes. We always listen to the Princes, don’t we Lucy?”

“Don’t call me that.” He snarled, his eyes narrowing at the spiteful demon, “You best be careful, Crawly. I can destroy you.”

They let out a huff, “If you could Lucy, you would’ve a long time ago. I know you never liked me. You think I didn’t notice what you used to say about me? We mightn’t be angels anymore but you’re still my brother.”

Lucifer’s face darkened, “You’re nothing to me, Crawly. I never wanted you here. Neither side wanted you.”

“Well what if I’m my own side then?” They asked cautiously. A life without having to run around doing little temptations sounded quite nice, actually. They could just live in the world his mother had created.

“You don’t have a side. You could run off on your own and you still wouldn’t belong,” Lucifer warned.

It was now Crawly’s turn to be wounded. They weren’t saying anything that they hadn't already thought but from their brother it felt like a silver dagger through the heart of a vampiric soul. There was good and there was evil, nothing else. No middle ground, no shades of grey. You were either good or bad.

Even if Crawly didn’t think they were either. They were just Crawly. Most truthfully, they were just an Angel who asked too many questions.

“I suppose you’re right,” Crawly sighed, standing up and preparing to leave.

“Aw, leaving already, Caphriel?”

Crawly’s head whipped around the glare into the eyes of Lucifer, their top lip quivering and their snake-like tongue flicking anxiously against the back of his teeth before he burst, “Get her name out of your mouth!”

Crawly leapt into their snake form and moved to strike Lucifer who was quick to evade.

“She doesn’t deserve this,” they huffed, their sudden rage subduing.

“You say that like she’s dead,” Lucifer noted.

“She is,” they hissed, feeling their heart ache in the absence of the person they used to be, “Hell killed her.”

“You’re weak, Crawly.”

They just nodded before leaving the makeshift meeting room, making their way to one of the exits from Hell. They didn’t know where they were going, they just knew that they couldn’t let any demon see them this weak.

It has been centuries but in all that time, Crawly hadn’t properly mourned their past life. Somewhere deep down they wanted to believe that she still lived in them, holed up in some far chamber of their heart.

Each day that passed, Crawly felt themselves growing further and further away from what Caphriel meant. Being good meant being punished by Hell but but evil was punishing themselves.

Who knew that that little starmaker would’ve gotten into this kind of mess?

As their feet returned to the soil of their mother’s Earth, the took a moment to memorise the feeling on the sun on their skin. Hell was dark and miserable. Nothing like the light of up here.

They sat on the scorched ground, letting the emotions course through their body. Crawly’s only options were to feel nothing or everything. Right now, it was time for everything.

They remembered the Fall and remembered their first few years in Hell. They remembered going to earth for the first time and meeting an Angel who became an unlikely ally. They remembered meeting said Angel many times since then.

Two beings who should’ve been two ships passing in the night were inextricably linked, doomed to keep meeting up. Distance wasn’t an issue. It was ineffable.

That’s why it wasn’t surprising when they heard the gentle beat of wings beside him before the noise stopped and the Angel sat beside them.

“What are you doing out here, Crawly?”

They gave a shrug, their eyes still unopened, “Could ask you the same, Angel.”

“Blessing in a nearby camp.”

Crawly hummed before reaching towards Aziraphale, feeling for his hand. They’d never asked if this was okay, they hoped it was. Holding onto Aziraphale felt like holding onto part of Heaven.

Though Crawly couldn’t see, Aziraphale’s face sprung until a pinkish blush and a small smile rested gracefully on his gestures.

“You know, Crawly, I’ve been meaning to ask,” Aziraphale started gently, “All these people think demons are these horned beasts with red eyes. You wouldn’t know anything about that?”

Crawly let out a low laugh before sitting up, finally opening their eyes to look at the unlikely friend, “I may have said something to that effect.”

The Angel let out a long sigh, his hand easing into the grip of Crawly’s, “I’m quite glad you aren’t. A horny serpent would be quite the sight.”

“A horny serpent, you say?”

#good omens #crowley #good omens 2 #good omentober #anthony j crowley #aziracrow #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #ao3 fanfic #aziraphale x crowley

[self-shipping-doll13]

And the tendency for tenants is secrecy.

Word Count: 1.8k

Cw: death mentions, swearing, paranoia, implications that an unseen person is really not having a good time™️

Noise wasn’t exactly tolerated where I lived. 

The crashing of pots made me jump first. A mistake washing dishes knocked just about the entirety of my kitchenware onto the ground… Luckily nothing had been damaged. Then it was the angry fist at my door. Mr. Davidson lived on the same floor as me. He was also the landlord. I rushed to accommodate him. 

His reaction was so angry it itched in my skin. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry! It won’t happen again…” 

“You’re right it won’t!”

I grimaced apologetically, like a dog presenting its belly in an act of submission. A taught behaviour. Quickly, I explained, made promises, and got off on a warning. 

This demand of silence bordered on unreasonable. 

Of course, that was fine. I could be calm and quiet. The noise rule definitely had its upsides: no rowdy parties (the flats were too small anyway), no thumping music, no loud children shrieking and banging on the walls. It was more than perfect for me. Late at night I’d sit at my desk, restless, listening to car horns blaring outside. Mr. Davidson wasn’t too bad. You got used to it. 

My other neighbours were far less unpleasant. 

One I ended up liking in particular was as elderly lady named Ms. Adler. She’d hobble up and down stairs unsuited to arthritic knees, clutching her velvety handbag, her feet wrapped in those soft little slippers with pastel petals embroidered over the toes. Always kind and cheerful, offering you a little sweet or a mint and patting your hand in fond chuckling laughter. As if you were her own long lost grandchild. 

She lived alone. No one visited her but me.  

Ms. Adler came to greet me a few times too. Once when I’d just moved in, and I didn’t know anyone.

It was my first time living alone - in the big city, and my new apartment was a mess of cardboard. When she saw Peaches around my heels, she’d coo and pucker her lips. “Oh, little sweetheart…” Bent down painfully. She actually managed to elicit a curious sniff. 

There was a young man who lived here too. He kept to himself. Well… ‘Reclusive’ actually might’ve been an understatement. I barely saw him. A person like that could be easily overlooked or forgotten, scrubbed over with happier, funnier memories. If only he wasn’t so strange - if only our encounters weren’t so awkward. 

Months ago: It was still very dark outside, I was leaving early for my appointment, going downstairs. He was going up. Going home? Ah, that was a problem. 

Obstructions were pretty common. The stairway was tiny, one-way, ideal for traffic jams, and the lifts were out of order for as long as I’d known them. Lawrence - I only learnt his name later - wore a sweatshirt and had his yellowish hair tied back. The fluorescent bulbs shone his face a sickly cadaverous hue. He gave me a deer-in-the-headlights stare I probably mimicked. No one could have appeared more harmless. I stopped and made an embarrassing noise in my throat. 

“Nice plant.” I must’ve been chipper that day. He was gently cradling one I wouldn’t know the name of. The leaves were glossy and vibrant, stained red, like someone had emptied their veins all over it. I imagined they were healthy. “Uh… I’ll get out of your way.” 

“…Thanks.” He looked away, grinning. Baring his teeth in a cagey wince. I could even tell he was anxious. A bit of shuffling. I hopped back up the narrow steps.    

“Have a good morning.” Not much else for me to say. 

“Uh… You too.” And well, that should’ve been that. 

But Lawrence didn’t enter his apartment. He stood with one hand clamped around the handle. I realised he must’ve been waiting for me to leave first. So I did.

This was the first time I discovered it was possible to feel someone’s eyes fixated on you. The back of my neck was unguarded, (no scarf, like an idiot) and for an odd moment I feared my throat would be ripped out. Instinctual residue from a distant, herbivore past. 

But was I unnerved or simply nervous? 

I was on the bottom floor. I lingered. From above me, the metallic symphony of too many locks. Echoing. 

My routine was mundane. I was an insect pinned in a glass box. Life here was small and compact that way. And when something was amiss, you noticed it. 

Of course you did. 

Shampoo, hairties, pens. I didn’t know how I lost things when there was scarcely anywhere for them to hide. I inspected my fridge. Did I still have milk at least? 

No. It was all gone. I sucked an involuntary breath in. This reminded me of other things I could’ve forgotten, which in hindsight was a good thing. Because just then I remembered too late the last of the dry stuff I fed Peaches tinkled into her bowl - fuck, how did I let things get away from me so often… I checked again and the bag was still empty. Obviously. Nothing left for the morning. I had to leave early for my lecture, too. 

My clock told me it was 1am - I should be asleep now. But I decided on biting the bullet, grabbed my keys and pulled on my jacket, boots and coat. Not my scarf. 

January was miserable at the best of times. But the sharp, frozen air outside was strangely refreshing, like a bucket of cold water. I was high on adrenaline, too. The nearest open shop was about a 5 minute walk. I might’ve dozed, since I blinked and I was there. 

I trudged up the entrance. Automatic doors slid open with an off note chime. I recognised Lawrence. Not honestly a surprise - I only met him this late at night, the occurrences random, but increasingly persistent. He only spared me a passing glance before he quickly refocused back on the snacks he was holding. 

The bright light here was almost nauseating. I found the right aisle, snatched up what I needed and silently joined the queue. Not that it was much of a holdup - but the person at the front was laughing and joking with a cashier who probably deserved a break. Lawrence wasn’t talkative. For now I was glad for it. Something in his quiet lifted the pressure to act fully human. 

I sighed and leant against the sweets rack. The colourful packets were borderline hypnotic to my exhausted brain. A dazzling array of yellows and pinks, swirls, funky lettering, anything to lure in those wonderful impulse buys. My lids were about as heavy as lead. God, this guy was taking forever… 

I let myself drift away for a bit. My neighbour’s voice was so low and soft, it took a moment to register. 

“Excuse me… I need to get past you…” 

Startled, I jumped, and regretted meeting his stare. Two icepick eyes boring into me like a lobotomy. 

“Oh.” I moved to the side. He disappeared.   

Lawrence didn’t come back, so I took his place and bought what I needed. I felt a little embarrassed. Did I really just nod off right in front of him? Jesus. 

Exiting, I took a fresh gulp of oxygen, the world outside appeared to have died. Witching hour was upon the city now, silenced and watchful. I could even hear my own footsteps, my boots scuffing on the pavement. I set one before the other. Step, step, step. Never underestimate the crushing weight of silence. Thoughts were swarming around in the hive of my mind. 

Future thoughts and past thoughts and everything in between. Assignments, dates, meals. Tossing around in a faulty washing machine. Step, step, step. 

The mass of my shopping crinkled. Unease flooded me without reason. Or perhaps I had all the reason; I was alone, so defenceless… Strange tension raked down my upper vertebrae. The fine hairs stood up on the back of my neck, I reflexively whirled to look— 

There was no one there. No one I could see. 

Skittish, a lone doe in a big metal forest, I felt the urge to hide. I clutched the plastic bag to myself. It would make a lousy weapon, I thought. My heart raced in my chest like it was trying to escape. I made an effort to force it down. Ridiculous. Just the adrenaline… 

I walked on, passing under dim yellow streetlights. The city council had updated most of the area with better, more radiant lamps, but this particular block was a bit overlooked. So between the flickering rays lay patches of complete and utter darkness. I sped up, and jumped again when my road was blocked by a motorcycle. 

The big scarred biker revved his engine at me. I waved at him nervously and he let me pass. I didn’t care to decipher his wolfish grin. I just wanted to get home. 

At the sound of my apartment door opening, Peaches let out a quiet chirp and leapt down from my bed. 

The click of the lock told me I was fine and safe now. I stroked her flexible spine, ignoring how my own still tingled. Her tail wiggled in that happy way. 

“Yes, this is for you… No, you can’t have it now.” 

In my pyjamas, I debated if it was worth it to even attempt sleeping. Not if I crashed too hard too early. My blood was still pumping hard, anyway. So I ended up making this late night one that I never wanted to stop, pushing it and pushing it, until it was 4am and I realised with sinking dread that I only had a few more dwindling, choked out hours until my life resumed. 

Everything was more beautiful when you had little time to savour it. Music painted in colours so evergreen. All of the books I’d never open. How thunder rumbled, loud and massive. I realised a heavy downpour was pattering against my windows. I envisioned the rain gathering and dribbling into soil, trickling down bark. The universe was so alive, birthing, living, rotting. Sleep numbed that, at once instant and endless. Just like dying. That might’ve been the adrenaline, too. 

That’s when I heard the noise. An ear-piercing shriek, more animal than human. My response this time was to go rigid. It came from my floor. I stared down at it. 

Mr. Davidson wasn’t happy. “Shut the fuck up!” I heard enraged stomping. Must’ve disturbed his rest. 

I tried to remember who lived just below me… And I hoped they didn’t get it too rough in the morning. Maybe they’d just blasted a horror film by accident or something. The incident left me giggly. Or it might’ve been jitters. I padded over to my fridge and got a coke - a little treat. It bubbled like lava down my throat as I sat back down on my rickety bed, folding my legs. 

Returning to my laptop, I imagined my neighbour was staying awake too. The thought was oddly comforting. This dark and secret gap in time was just for us. 

Then, a quiet fluttering. A perishing. I looked up. A moth was beating its fragile wings against a bulb. So tiny, this insect boxed into 4 walls. It and I both. 

Add flowers - this place might be my tomb.

Dividers by @/firefly-graphics

#🪴🔪🫀 #my writing

[rimouskis]

so I went to seattle

(looong post ahead)

I travelled! far!!! to a place I haven't been since I was, like... 11, maybe? 12? it's hard to remember, but it has been SUCH a long time since I've been west of, like, St. Louis, and god it feels good (more on that later).

first and foremost: I got to meet the lovely @ticklefighthockey!! she is a delight! she is an immaculate hostess! she has two very adorable dogs who rule her household! she is very good at being game for just about anything!

it was such a treat to meet up with another fandom friend. I am (more on this later) working myself towards a self-understanding that has room for respecting online friendships just as much as in-person ones. I think I still sometimes deal with residual shame over having more online friends than offline friends—just cultural baggage that says people with online friends are losers and socially-inept and weird. while I KNOW that isn't true, I've always had complicated feelings about the fact that since college my primary friendship circle has ALWAYS been online, while that has never been true for people in my offline life.

but (more on this later as well), I'm trying to be more understanding and kind towards myself about that, and trying to embrace the crazy cool uniqueness of it, which is a real gift.

anyways, back to fandom friends I get to hang out with:

isn't that amazing. I was agog at it.

jes is funny and engaging and game for anything! this is wonderful for me, a person who tries very hard to be funny and engaging and game for anything! of course, this meant we were aggressively "NO I WANT YOU TO HAVE THE BEST EXPERIENCE POSSIBLE DURING THIS VISIT"-ing at each other constantly through the entire weekend. truly the Nice Gal version of two rams clacking horns, but instead of fighting over potential mates (hi Sid) we were beating each other's skulls silly and yelling "NO BUT WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DO?"

highly amusing to me, but also very conducive to, in fact, having the best experience possible. we ran around town desperately trying to cram things into an incredibly condensed schedule, but I felt like I saw so much!

we were able to take her dogs—who are truly delightful and DECEPTIVELY YOUNG. you wouldn't know from how she talks about pip but he is 100% pure muscle (could give hornqvist a run for his money) and deeply willing to play tug-of-war until someone dies (it will be you. you will be the one to die. he will win.) and darling ruthie who will hate you until she decides she likes you (this will likely involve carrots) and after she likes you she does indeed become the precious angel baby of legend—out on an OUTDOOR HIKE! through a FOREST! near a LAKE!

these are in fact pedestrian things in seattle but to me, a poor midwesterner who lives on the very very tippy top of the appalachian region, this was GREAT FUN and MUCH EXCITEMENT. so we harnessed the dogs and embarked upon what we thought was a leisurely 4.2 mile hike and instead ended up being a wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am-please-take-care-not-to-step-off-the-path-by-a-few-inches-lest-you-immediately-tumble-down-a-hundred-foot-ravine-to-your-grisly-(but-green-and-verdant!)-death-while-also-dragging-a-muscled-dog-with-you 0.42 mile MAD DASH.

we sped through it thanks to aforementioned muscled dog (and sister) having zero regard for imminent death (who cares about PERILOUS TRAILS when there are THINGS TO SNIFF) and at its end was a lake! wow!

it was gorgeous and lovely and I would, in fact, hike a death-defying 0.42 miles again to see it.

then I successfully talked jes into letting me swing by pike place market (literally solely for the 'gram), but there was some fall festival going on, which is cute but also made it crowded as shit, so I took my coveted pic and bolted

walking through downtown seattle was nice, even if I had to kind of jog because my days of making friends who are shorter than me (which is a feat) are over, and I am now cursed with friends who are in fact above average height, which makes me feel weird and also short (which I am). I liked seeing the city and also sort of being able to confirm that the city is nice and good and not what the NIMBYs and right-wing pundits would have you believe has happened to seattle. it's a good city! it's beautiful! literally everyone I met was so nice! (except for one kraken fan but we'll get to him).

speaking of hockey:

my god, does seattle know how to put on a show. I was agog at the arena. it is shiny and new and impressive and beautiful and full of wood paneling and GREENERY and all the athletic, clear-faced seattleites who occupy the city. I was in a state of shock. this is, in fact, the first NHL arena I've been to that isn't PPG Paints.

and it is so beautiful that i was immediately consumed with envy. how dare this new team, with all its west coast wealth, have better accommodations and audiovisuals and LIGHT UP SCULPTURES than my legacy appalachian team?

I swallowed my jealousy down and just took it all in. they basically put on a full amazon original before each period. there is LORE and the kraken entreat you to buy into it with full casts and impressive animations and a glow-in-the-dark tentacle erupting out of the ice. it is very effective. I did, in fact, buy merch.

also I dragged jes around during an intermission to track down the band and drumline because I fucking love a good drumline and if the pens knew what was good for them they would iNVEST IN A DRUMLINE

but I was thinking to myself that this is literally exactly how you build a fanbase. this is hockey made thrilling. this is excitement. this is a PRODUCTION. this is what the golden knights want to be. this is, verily, the exact sort of shindig I would bring a kid to if I endeavored to make them into a hockey fan. I think it would work. it was a whole experience in the way pens games just... are not. pens games are hockey games! a kraken game is a circus, a TV show, and a lightshow with also some hockey. I was so blown away.

but let's get to why I was there:

DAN POTASH.

and also some guys I guess:

I'm pleased to report geno looks as pretty in white in person as he does on tv. he is so big. he never, as jes puts it, shuts his mouth. ever.

sid was also there I guess. here's a rearview shot:

jes got to witness firsthand how I physically cannot shut up during a hockey game (I regret to inform you all that I am the "talking to the players/the universe in a desperate plea for good bounces" sort of fan), and was also witness to me laughing hysterically, truly like a madwoman, when the two kraken goals were called back. jes has a better recap of the game, but I can just say that I thoroughly enjoyed myself. I have seen much more embarrassing defeats at the hands of much less entertaining teams, so I was ready to bear that cross.

that being said, there was a drunk kraken fan the row ahead of us who was verbally harassing a penguins fan in his row. he was yelling at him, trying to get his attention by calling him "letang" (the jersey the pens fan was wearing), and even threw the free giveaway hat at him to try and get his attention. mr. not-letang very smartly sat still and refused to look over. I was disappointed at that behavior and also really displeased that the drunk fan's friend didn't do jack shit to stop his behavior... but that's drunk people for you, I guess!

anyways when the kraken scored the (first) empty netter I turned to jes and said we should blow this popsicle stand. and that we did lol. I regret none of it! pens you suck and I love you so dearly <3

the next day I tearfully said goodbye to my new best friend, ruthie, and then maybe waved at jes idk who cares (I'm joking, we—after very extensive fanfic brainstorming sessions in the car to and from brunch—expressed SO EARNESTLY and HEARTFELT-LY how much we enjoyed the trip, as we were both so determined to Get A Good Grade In Visiting Fandom Friends, Something Normal To Want And Possible To Achieve).

and then I got to see my aunt and uncle! they moved out there for the tech boom back in the 90s and have been there ever since. they're incredibly cool and we talked SO much

(something else I've learned about myself as an adult: I talk way too fucking much. I thought it was bad when I had an in-person job, and now that I do WFH it's literally like I'm being paid by the word I speak. big kudos to anyone who's withstood being near me for longer than an hour).

my aunt took me on a hike and we got to see old-growth forest AND a lake AND the skyline, which was so sick

talking with her was incredible. she's a very interesting person and a complete city-slicker and is... kind of eerily like me? like I saw a lot of similarities between her and I as we talked and interacted with my uncle. we have similar communication styles and I see myself a bit in her. something that's heartening to me is that she's, like... in her late 50s and childless and so youthful and full of attack attack go go go energy and has the same ruthless desire to UNDERSTAND and BE UNDERSTOOD that I do, and I liked talking with her. she's so receptive to youth culture and to aspects of things she doesn't understand in her quest to understand them, and it makes for such engaging conversation.

my uncle, too, is really neat. I like him so much, and I wish I knew more about him? my dad is so reticent about his family sometimes, and I'm still so desperately trying to tease out the full story of what growing up in that family was like (for longtime followers, this is my uncle who got written out of my grandma's will). he has great energy and is pretty chill (and was literally recovering from intense hip surgery while I was there, he's such a champ haha) and I wish I could see him and my dad interact more. why did all my dad's brothers have to scatter across this country??

he found me interesting, I could tell, and that was really validating and nice. we had awesome conversations about how I got into hockey (my aunt is super, like... 2nd-wave-y feminist and does not get my hockey love due to the sport's chauvinism) and also how I found community online. my aunt is a writer in her free time and hasn't ever really been able to find her niche online and really wanted my input about how I'd been able to befriend people across the country, and world, online.

that too was really validating and cool. I've always sort of put myself down about not having as many IRL friends, but seeing it through their eyes sort of helped me shift my mindset. I DO have amazing friends! they're close mentally if not physically! and they lead to amazing things! they were so jazzed about me hosting friends from all over the country who'd come to visit me in the name of hockey. while I get all whiny about not having enough people to do stuff with locally, my aunt was like "you have friends WHERE?" and they were so into it. they loved that I had worldwide friends and was finding connection wherever I went. it was great.

also we saw jesus at a grocery store. yes, it was halloween, but it was a funny encounter. he was in the produce section.

then we went to a WATERFALL that was TERRIFYING IN ITS SCALE

this thing was incredible and man... man... I need to go back. I have to. I always thought as a kid that I'd end up moving out west. even before my twilight phase got me fully obsessed with washington, I loved the look and nature and majesty of the PNW. since the first time I visited there, I knew something about that area spoke to me.

and it was so, so cool to reconnect with that after over a decade away. when I was there I felt like a sort of... idealized version of myself. like that version was within reach. that I could become a really cool version of myself if I lived there. an alternate path, you know?

maybe the PNW is in my future. it could be. I always thought it would be as a kid. funnily enough, a hockey team got in the way and sent me east instead, but like I always say... I don't know if pittsburgh is forever! I want to live a grand adventure, and I want to live many places, and maybe one day I wind up there for a spell.

there's just something about that part of the country. something about me when I'm there.

this was such a good vacation. it was short, but it was honestly practically idyllic. I will be back. hopefully soon. there is so much unexplored... I want to devour that state over a summer one day.

people are great. friends are great. family is great. nature is great. life is good.

#long post #I'm not joking this is. so long. #anyways here's my seattle retrospective #it isn't very much about hockey haha

[restinjest-a]

The young and august

"Papa--"

Finnley's kittenish voice resounds throughout the humid air of the cavernous Wash-room, bouncing off the wet cement walls in a way that makes it hard to gauge where exactly the sound originates from.

She knows this, of Course. It's her home too, after all.

Fizzarolli's luxuriant penthouse in the pulsing heart of Libidine city. If she were asked, she could list the exact number of floorboards in the grand dining hall, and which ones made the least noise when stepped upon, in the event that one had to sneak through the house to, perhaps, snag a midnight snack from the cookie cupboard. This house holds within it's ornate walls many a abberation and as the resident disquisitive mischief-maker, is it not her duty to learn all about them?

Moments like these, however, demand a little more tact than what she Is prone to.

"--They're gone. I'm sure it was just one of your creepy fans. Par for the course, right? It's OK to relax now, don't you think...?"

She stands in the middle of the archway preceeding the bathroom, somewhere she can be easily spotted—it's bad practice to sneak up on a nervous dog and her father, she's learned, is very nervous. Something he's become increasingly inapt at keeping under wraps as of late. She can only connect this sudden shift in demeanor to his newfound penchant for late-night walks and furtive phone-calls.

Something about old friends and equally old troubles, she's surmised.

"Didn't I tell you to stay away from the windows?"

Comes his voice, as rough and gravel-like as ever.

Finnley's snout wrinkles in disaffection, never too fond of being discoursed to as if she were an inept child.

"I know how to use the security monitor—I pay attention, dad, even when you think i don't, I do."

Matter-of-fact. No room for argument there. Her big girl fangs are coming in and she's not afraid to gnash them when she feels she's being slighted. Which just so happens to be a lot these days and it never ceases to both vex and deeply concern her to no end because her father simply isn't the quarrelsome type. Not usually anyway. But now it's becoming increasingly more apparent that these are not usual times.

"Yeah? You pay attention? Maybe you can tell me where my pills are then? I swear on Satan's feculent shit hole if you've been sneaking into my meds again--"

The succubus stomps a pedicured hoof on the sleek marble tiles, effectively putting an abrupt end to something that could very well have dissolved into a delusional tirade at her expense.

"The pills that you flushed down the toilet during your whole I'm bulletproof spiel yesterday?! What the fuck is wrong with you? Like, actually? What is wrong with you?"

A suffocating silence falls over the room, disturbed only by the incessant stream of scalding hot water pouring out of the faucet beneath Phizper's hunched over form. She can just barely see him shift through the undulating stream, rubbing a mechanical hand along the expanse of his muzzle, all the way up between his short, pointy horns. There's an apology coming. He's always been predictable to her. And she used to pride herself of being the only one who could read him as reliably as the numbers on a digital watch. Now it's just bothersome, when she can see exactly what he's feeling but she doesn't have even a shred of context to make it all make sense.

"Listen, Finny, I'm just trying to keep you safe--"

There it is.

Right on schedule.

"From what? From who? Why do you think the whole world's out to get us? Do you not see how fucking insane this shit is? The way you've been acting lately? Is there something I'm missing here? Something you're not telling me? If you're in trouble, don't i deserve to know?"

Finnley thumps her hands against her sternum, the anger and frustration in her voice yielding to a much more compelling sense of hurt. Something which Phizper, naturally, picks up on immediately. His stance shifts, he turns to face her, looking so impossibly wrung out and tired--the kind of tired that no measure of rest or relaxation could ever hope to extract from his bones.

It hurts to look at.

God, it hurts.

"Please, listen to me, Finn...it's ok. Everything's going to be ok."

He brings his hands up in a placating gesture, inching his way closer toward his daughter. He wants to soothe her, but Finnley doesn't want to be soothed. Right now, she only wants to be angry. She wants to be angry and she wants answers and she intends to make that crystal clear through whatever means necessary.

"Like hell it's going to be ok...you're snorted out of your brain half the time and the other half you're sneaking around with these...these people that I don't know...disappearing for hours...days at a time. Do you not want me around? Is that it? Do you want me to go? If you want me to go then just fucking say it. Say it! To my face, and I'll leave you...leave you to snort and fuck and self-destruct in peace. Alright?!"

Big girl fangs indeed. It's what he wanted her to be--sharp and dangerous, so that the fuckers out there who would seek to use and abuse her would think twice when she bared her teeth. But it's clear that any pride he might have felt at this rebellious display is waning rapidly, leaving only hurt and frustration in it's stead. And it gets to her--for a moment it does. Her dainty claws rise up, forming a barrier before her lips, as if to stop any further aggression and expletives from rolling off her tongue.

But then he's advancing on her again, reaching out with those cold cybernetic hands and grasping her by her upper arms with all the force of a steel trap.

His eyes are wild, like a cornered animal's.

Fear.

"You couldn't even begin to understand--"

"Let go of me--"

"--the things that i have done--"

"--stop it, stop--"

"--the lengths that I have gone to--"

"--You're hurting me goddammit!"

"--I love you, Finnley. Don't you see that I love you? ...stay...you have to stay. Stay with me...I can't do anything for you if you don't stay...they'll eat you alive Finn, they'll eat you--"

A knee jerk reaction—she wishes she could take it back, even before her open palm makes contact with his face. The ensuing smack is so visceral and gut wrenching it makes even her shrink back in shock and dismay at the horror of it all.

This is one of those moments, she thinks.

One of those moments that'll stick with you until the day you die.

The kind that will inspire nightmares for years to come.

She watches him stumble and grasp at his face where her pretty, polished claws had left three, almost identical marks, beads of black blood already rising to the surface of his porcelain pale face. Such a stark contrast, it's almost impossible to look away from.

Turns on his heel and his hand collides with the edge of the sink, steam whirling around him like sheer curtains, obscuring most of the gnarly sight from her field of vision.

But she can see his venom green eye peer at her through the spaces between his fingers.

She's ready for anger.

She's ready for scorn.

She's not ready for what she hears.

Laughter.

Unrestrained, uproarious laughter.

This is one of those moments.

#;drabble #tw flashing

[muffindaddystyles]

Can you write overprotective long hair harry imagine?? Like he always hovers the reader when she is doing something or even nothing. Or when she needs to run errands he always go with even though its not required. And when reader fell sick he is full on mommy daddy mode dom!h vibes

A/N: OOPS I GOT EXCITED AND WENT OVERBOARD WITH IT :D

Harry’s awfully sweet. He’s a literal sweetheart with those marble sepia eyes, hazelnut curls and that big golden kind heart of his's.

But, to people he’s intimidating. From the black loiter of tattoos, a silver of piercing to the corner of his plush bottom lip and those long curls of his's that frays his broad strong shoulders turns everyone too giddy to talk to him and he's okay with that – bunch of loosers anyways whom he doesn’t want to waste his time on chit-chatting.

Then Y/N came into his life and his world flipped upside down, in a beautiful way (where he felt like floating into the crashing waves of crystal sea). It felt like she made him see the world through pink heart-shaped glasses and everyone’s just bursting into rainbows, puffaw! Boom! Their heads blasting with colourful confetti and ribbons.

Even though his slight grouchiness towards people lessened he still doesn’t gives two fucks before punching the shit out of someone if they in any way hurts, be rude and try to take physical and emotional advantage of, Y/N.

His bunny.

He’s too protective of her. And why wouldn’t he? She’s his everything. His little miracle and his hype-person, his lovie.

He’s the softest peach for her. The guy who walks and everyone scrambles away to give him a way, is whipped for his girlfriend.

He’s always having his strong arm looped around her waist when they’re out and walking, going to hold her hands instead if she’s too wiggly, keeping her close to his chest while he holds their coffees and sweets.

Whenever they’re doing grocery he’s always wheeling the cart around how much Y/N insists and pouts, he likes it that way. Hearing her blabber and skim her eyes down the ingredients labelled on the products then tossing it anyway with a shrug – makes him want to smooch her wet in kisses.

If they’re partying out with friends. Which they rarely do, (Y/N sometimes makes fun of them saying they’re getting too domestic day by day) he’s always having her put in his lap, his screwed up expression lazing when the alcohol starts to kick in and he’s just a blubbering mess of nonsense, and a very horn dog with his cock bloating up in his tight skinny jeans.

Not that he doesn’t let her have a breather and enjoy herself. He indeed does, they’ve a healthy relationship where they keep trust and faith in eachother.

But, sometimes he gets super jealous when people steal his little girlfriend away from him and once home he’s cuddling and oodling her, kissing her face all over with loud smacks and not letting her be away from him another second even it’s too bring him water or to get rid of his smelly socks.

Other times. When he’s particularly very jealous. The serious ones where Y/N unintentionally spends a tad more time at some of her classmates to wind up their upcoming project, he’s driving himself to pick her up and knocking at the door harshly and then dragging her out of there not letting her carry her stuff and huffing and puffing while throwing her things in the backseat.

Because Jeremy’s a sore rascal who’s shit at hiding his crush for Y/N and he should know better to whom she belongs. His innocent baby is too naive towards the possible hints and evil intentions of people.

“Oi. What got into you today?” She brushes the loose curl that escaped from his bun and let her fingers slide down his tight set angry jaw staring him a bit concerned upon seeing him this furious and ruffled up from nowhere.

“You’re mine,” Is all he'd respond. Smashing his lips against hers in a an ardent kiss and glide his palm down her ass to squeeze it and bring her closer grinning when she squeals into his mouth giving him a chance to slip his tongue in and kiss her deeper and sloppier.

“You’re a silly geese.” She giggles whisper into the mess of pecks and lock her elbows around his neck to give him an eskimo kiss.

“Watch y’mouth.” He glares her intensely loving the way Y/N gulps timidly bobbing her head.

“You’ll get a spanking today,” He always likes to warn her before hand. He wants her comfortable with him in every case and it’s downgrade monstrous to treat the person you love like a mean bitch out of blue -- so whenever she deserves a punishment he already announces her of it, warming her to the idea and giving her time to back away if she doesn’t want it.

“What did I’do now!” She whines and he nibbles onto his knuckle glancing her way in disbelief other hand on steering wheel, “What did y'do?” He asks her sternly. Spreading his palm over her thigh and squeezing it grimly.

“Did y'even care to look at the time, Y/N?” Oh boy. She’s in real trouble. Her name on his tongue never fails to turn her insides gooey and pause her heartbeat horribly. A red light for her to being bratty before she falls into the deep black dig of trouble.

Reaching home. He’s throwing her on the bed and demanding her to lay still on her tummy while he puts a pillow under her and spanks her bum sore with his rings imprinting her skin pink, though he never forgets to take care of her afterwards – putting a cool cream to soothe the burn and letting her sleep on his chest so she wouldn’t come in contact with the sheets as he kneads her asscheeks with gentle hands.

.

He could never have his hands to himself when she’s cooking and baking for them. Always, poking and prodding around having her head tucked under his chin, her embraced in his arms from back swaying them along to Hozier while she reads the recipe she wrote on one of the tiles.

“Stop!” She giggles, squirming in his arms when he blows raspberries against the dip of her neck and then creates growly noises biting and lapping into her skin, “You’re gonna burn our lunch!” She pressed her hips against his crotch to push him away and that warmed him more, delving his fingers more into her hips with a throaty groan.

“We could have a takeout.” His breath shuddery against her ear as he tries to pry the spatula away from her and kiss her grumpy whines down when the pots actually got burned, “I’ll wash and scratch them.” He’d assure picking her up and wrapping her legs around his hips and slipping his fingers in her hair to tug them and bring her mouth down against his’s to taste her.

“Wants to fuck you so bad, baby. My cock’s been weepy fo’ hours without your touch.” He groans, taking her hand and sneaking it inside his joggers to make her feel how stiff and erect he’s for her.

“I just gave you a blowie in the morning!”

“Blowie isn’t equivalent to fucking!”

.

“What y'readin,?” He scoots closer to her end of sofa with a smirk and towers over her trying to take a peek of whatever she’s reading with such intensity and then rake his warm palms up her calves to lay them over his thighs while he snuggles her wrapping a chonky blanket around them.

“Shhh baby girl, just want you to be more comfy.” He mumbles into her hair scratching his short nails against her scalp in soothing motions and watch her melt against his touch, eyes fluttering as she lurks dangerously to the verge of sleep.

“You always do that. Whenever the hot part’s about to come, you make me all sleepy.” She mutters laying her head against his clavicles gazing him up with hazy eyes, sighing in feign disappointment when he grins down at her in quite victory and gives her a sloppy kiss.

“What do y'need erotica fo’ baby? When your man’s the living walking momentum of sex.” He pouts, grazing his teeth down her neck and leaving a fresh hickey at her throat.

“That’s infact not, true. You’re such a cutie!” She beams up at him never failing to give him dancing butterflies in his stomach and he doesn’t admits it but he likes getting treated soft and gentle by his girlfriend.

“Such a shame. My own little love doesn’t find me sexy.” He grumps dramatically making her scramble hesitantly and turn to him in their tight embrace, cradling his face in her cold palms, “No. No. I find you sexy. I just don’t like sexualising you.” If Harry didn’t turn into a puddle before he indeed did now as he melted into her touch and kissed the inside of her hands lovingly.

“You’re sucha sap!” He whispers at her in fake offence and plant his lips against hers, patting her bum to make her hug him more tightly.

.

On cleaning and laundry day’s. He’s always helping her. As they scrub and mop the floors together, might fuck on them bubbly floors too if Harry’s lusty gaze remains on her spilling tits for too long.

“Thinks your floral bra needs a wash too, moppet.” His gradual attempts to lure her with his fingers stroking her thighs seductively always turns into a win when she nods shyly into his neck and let him have an easy access to her panties.

They’re always having a warm, full of essence bath together cleaning and washing the dirt off eachother after that.

Then sharing a cuppa tea while folding their clothes together on the bed and he’s always trying to tackle her into mattress when she laughs at his terribly folded clothes compared to her neatly binded ones.

“Your sucha menace,” He jests with his nose skewered up while he smacks her ass.

“Talk for yourself, Styles.” She retorts, tangling her knee around his waist and pulling him down into him. Puffing out relaxed breaths upon feeling safe and protected under his weight and Harry always smiles into the crook of her neck when she tries to cuddle him as if she wants to be his skin.

..

He’s the most daddiest when she’s drunk, sick or stressed.

Never letting her go out of his sight when she’s dancing on the floor with her friends. If some man even tries to approach her and breaths in her direction he’s sprinting towards her and pawing at her hips to situate her closer to him whilst blowing those potential guys off with a monotone expression.

“Harry! Do a lil dancey dance with me!” She giggles, making him sway with her and looking up at him with glassy floaty eyes.

“Bunny. ‘s late, time to go home.” He tells her, pinching her chin to plant his lips against hers and she squirms giving him a timid smile, “Okie. But I’ve to pee.”

“Me too!” Her friends chimes from behind her and Harry rolls his eyes playfully, gesturing all of them to follow him.

“C’mon you spies, not lettin’ ya’ll go alone.”

He waits for them outside the washroom while they do their business and he has his arms always splayed open for when his lovie comes back and he’s welcoming her in his embrace warmly with a sweet smile.

Dying with fond injecting in his every vein when she slurs and blabbers, “Home.”

Walking her up the stairs of their flat’s building is the most hefty struggle while she’s a sleepy, clumsy and giggly muck of doe gleaming eyes and swollen pretty lips drooling over Harry testing his patience while he makes her take one step at a time.

“Darling, bunny, just some mo' steps lovin’.” He coos at her, putting a firm hand under her bum and heaving her up into him so she doesn’t falls.

“Mhmmm you’re so pretty, daddy.” Harry’s head snaps in surprise as he stares down at her in adoring amusement and push her head under his chin while she slings her arms around his waist lazily.

Sometimes, she gets him so flustered he doesn’t know how to respond.

She whines and cries in dishevelment when Harry makes her sit on the cold marble counter and wipes her makeup off.

“I just wan’ to sleep!” She toes at his torso trying to push him away but he grabs it and tuts, glowering at her strictly, “You’re g'na complain in the mornin’. Sleepin’ with makeup makes ye' breakout remember?” When she still huffs and slumps giving him a hard time to clean her he’s pinching her chin and giving her a gentle jerk.

“Bunny. Stop with ye' battiness.” He grunts not letting his facade slip when she mewls stroking her cheek up and down his lightly stubble covered cheek softly.

“Else what? Y'never punish a sleepy bunny.” She smirks at him foppishly and lazily knowing damn well that one of thing Harry doesn’t do’s tease or punish her when she’s tuckered out and on the edge of sleeping on him.

“You don’t test me bratty woman.” She squeals when he takes hold of her panties to pull them down her legs, slapping her mound once discarding it in the hamper and he sighs when she’s already snoring lightly, slobbering his throat with her mouth parted comically.

After pattering her face with loving kisses he’s tucking her under the layers of blankets and letting her use him as her stuffie.

..

“Aw poor baby.” He mumbles, kissing her forehead when he finds her burning up against him and he’s quickly rummaging for thermometer from the night stand and the tissues he had stashed for emergencies.

“I don’t feel good,” His heart breaks when Y/N croaks out weakly and tries to crawl up his chest to stuff her face in his musky neck but her frail limbs gives out making her cry out.

“It’s okay bunny, ‘s okay. How but I make you some soup. Then y'take your medicines like a good girl of mine, then if your condition gets worse we’ll go to doctor, yeah baby?” He talks to her gently and sweetly, stroking her hair and peppering kisses to her temples.

“Just last bite, moppet.” Harry hovers the spoon infront of her and sighs when she shakes her head pushing his wrist away, “I’ll puke.” She sniffs blowing her nose harshly in the tissue .

“The bin’s right here, bunny.” He smoothens his hand down her spine putting the tray aside carefully to snuggle and comfort her as she cries softly against his chest.

“’M so sorry baby, you’ll be alright in the morning.” He couldn’t see her in such condition. It pulls and tugs at his heart so painfully he feels himself hurting.

“Oi. Why you crying, hmm?” He cups her cheek and makes her look at him as she skims her eyes away from him jn embarrassment.

“I —- You’re so caring and loving, treats me so good and it makes me c.. cr–-,” She hiccups finding it hard to breath and Harry rubs her back, whispering affinities in her ear making her finally sob, “Cry....” He chuckles softly pelting kisses upon kisses on her puffy eyelids, soaky dried up cheeks, her frowned up forehead, her wobbly chin and her nipping love bites down her chest then blowing raspberries at his own slick covering her skin making her giggle through her hiccups.

“I love you.” She whispers droopily, head lulling to his chest when the effect of medicine finally starts to kick in.

“I love you too, I want my healthy and happy bunny back.” He mumbles, inhaling a huge puff of her scent and squishes her lovingly.

#harry styles imagines #harry styles one shots #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry smut #cute harry #harry styles #fluff #harry angst #hsh #dom harry

[sunmoonandeddie]

and he kissed me right here

pairing: modern!bucky barnes x reader

word count: 6,100

summary: I've always been sure that all I ever wanted was a glamorous life.

warnings: Cuss words, mentions of the Afghanistan war (Bucky is a veteran), angst, happy ending, cheesy romantic confessions, age gap

a/n:  This is based on the song 'Stars and the Moon' from Songs for a New World! It's the first one shot in my musical series! This is written in first perspective, but there is no physical description or use of a name in this!

Twenty-Two

I sighed as I tossed a few more dirty plates into the dish window, wiping my brow. After a shitty dinner rush and an even shittier rush around two in the morning consisting only of drunk ass college kids looking for some sort of carb to suck up all the alcohol in their systems, I was ready to go the fuck home.

“Sweetheart, you head on home now,” the head chef insisted as he watched my head nod slightly as I tried my best to fight off sleep. “Ain’t nobody comin’ in before Melissa gets here. No point in you staying on your feet any longer.”

Louis was a godsend. At sixty-seven years old, you’d think he would rather be anywhere but a diner at almost four in the morning.

“Nah,” he had said when I’d asked him a few months after I’d first started. “My Ginny died a few years back, and since she’s been gone, I don’t really have the stomach to sit around that house all alone.” He had laughed, but there’d been a deep sorrow that had come over his deep brown eyes. “Kids are worried, but… Sleeping the day away is better than laying up at night staring at her side of the bed…”

“You sure, Lou?” I asked even as I headed for the back room where all the employees clocked in and kept their possessions in their own little cubbies. I did my checkout in view of the security camera, just like always. I didn’t want anyone to be able to say I stole anything.

Everyone who knew me knew that I wouldn’t, but I’d worked at two many places where the girls tried backstabbing each other and sabotaging everyone else to get them fired.

Though people were a lot nicer in Louisiana than any of the other places I’d lived.

Louis chuckled as he set a to-go box in the window, nodding towards it. “Mmhm. Long as Buck is getting you home safe.”

I gave him a joking eye roll as I took the to-go box gratefully, grinning at my name written in all caps with green Sharpie on top. “You know you don’t have to make me dinner every night.”

“Yes, I do,” he said, shooting me a look. “How else do I know you’re getting enough food in you, huh?” He pointed his rag at me. “Now you go ask him to get you home. Tell him I said he can clock out, and that he’s supposed to text me when he sees you safe inside. You better not say you’re gonna ask him again just to walk yourself home.” The old man shook his head as I headed for the back door, muttering to himself, “Damn girl thinks I’m gonna believe she’s feeding herself good enough when she’s risking her damn ass walking home alone.”

Despite the fact that I’d put off asking for Bucky Barnes’s service, I really did appreciate how fiercely Louis cared about me.

It had been a real long time since anyone had cared so much.

I hesitated at the back door of the diner, my hand resting against the cool metal.

What if he said no?

Granted, he most likely wouldn’t. But what if he said yes, and he secretly thought me some dumb little girl that couldn’t take care of herself?

What did I care if he thought that?

“I don’t care what he thinks of me,” I huffed as I straightened my shoulders, holding my chin a little higher.

“Stop talking to yourself and get going!”

I jumped in surprise, before shooting a glare in the direction of the kitchen. “Stop listening in on my private conversations!” I demanded before storming outside with new found vigor.

Only to freeze when Bucky looked up from where he was sitting on the curb, smoking a cigarette.

God, he was handsome.

“You okay, doll face?” He asked, his New York accent a sharp contrast to the southern drawls you were used to.

“Um… Y-Yeah,” I said faintly, glancing back at the door that I’d come in from. “Um… L-Louis wants me to ask you… Can you walk me home? Or give me a ride? I don’t… I don’t know if you drive…”

“I do drive.”

“O-Oh. Okay. Great.”

“But I don’t have my car on me.”

I peered at him curiously. “Oh. Um… I can just walk by myself. I don’t wanna… I don’t wanna be a nuisance…”

He stood up, tossing his cigarette to the ground and stomping it out. “Don’t be ridiculous, darlin.’ Come on. I’ll walk you.” He shoved his hands in his pockets as he began to head for the street. “Besides… It’s a real nice night.”

“Oh…,” I said in surprise at how ready he was to be of service. “Okay. But only if you’re sure.”

A faint smile graced his lips as he glanced at the ground, letting out a faint chuckle that rumbled deep in his chest. “I’m sure, darlin.’ But you gotta lead the way.”

I was surprised by the rapid pitter patter of my heart beat as we walked side by side down the street, the chorus of ‘Yellow Brick Road’ getting stuck in my head on a loop.

Bucky was an enigma that I found myself wondering about more often than not, but I always ended up talking myself out of going there. After all, he was an older man. A much older man. At least fifteen years older than my own twenty-two years, or something along those lines, not that he looked it. The man looked like some kind of rugged Greek god. Like Hades if Hades was born in the eighties. His dog tags clinked together under his shirt as we walked, his metal prosthetic glinting in the moon.

“So how did you end up in NOLA?”

It took me a moment to even realize that he was talking to me, my heart skipping a beat and my face going hot in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” I asked.

His bright blue eyes flickered over to look me over. “How’d you end up in New Orleans?”

“I actually don’t know,” I snorted, avoiding his eyes as I kicked at a few broken up pieces of asphalt. “I just… Picked a bus ticket and ended up in one of the Carolinas. Then I picked another bus ticket and ended up in Minnesota. And then I picked another, and another, and another, and then I actually just… ended up here.” The months I’d spent alone on those Greyhounds felt both so long ago and also like it was just yesterday. “The diner was the first place someone recommended for food that’s good but cheap, and as I was eating my mountain of cheese fries, I saw the flyer that said they were hiring. So here I am now…”

“Huh,” he said, his brows furrowed. “I didn’t take you for the type of person to run off on your own… riding buses all over the country…”

Head tilting to the side, I gave him a long look. “You didn’t? What kind of type did you peg me for?”

Bucky gave me a long look, a single brow raised as though silently telling me that I jumped to conclusions. “Just that jumping from place to place can take a lot outta someone,” he said slowly, his voice low and soothing. “Hell, if you were my girl—” He broke off as his cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink, his long hair falling in his face.

I swore my heart had stopped inside of my chest, and I swallowed thickly around the lump in my throat. “Oh?”

He rushed to try to correct his wording. “I-I just mean, a lady should be comfortable. And if I had a g-girl like you, well… You’d never want for anything,” he stammered, stumbling over his words like a flustered school boy. “Hell, I… I’d give you the stars and the moon…”

I was shocked into silence, staring up at him like he was the sun itself. “Bucky…”

“No, no, don’t say anything. I… I know that was a lot,” he insisted quietly, unable to meet your eyes as he stared up at the shitty apartment building you called home. “Hell, you probably don’t want a gross old man hitting on you.” His metal hand, glinting in the low light of the street lamp, reached up to brush against my cheek for just a moment before it quickly dropped. “Just let me walk you home each night so I can make sure you’re safe, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I breathed out, unable to take my eyes off of him as he took a few steps back.

There’s a somewhat playful smirk on his lips as he watched me stumble up the steps, continuously glancing back at him. “Goodnight, baby doll.”

“Goodnight,” I said, barely audible before I finally headed inside.

Bucky kept his word. He walked me home every night, and honestly, there wasn’t a moment that I wasn’t thinking about what he had said, about if I was his girl.

What if I was his girl?

But… with that meant I’d have to give up the life I’d dreamed for myself. I wanted luxury, to never worry about bills or where I was gonna get my next meal or if I could afford to buy the nice work shoes or if I could only get the cheap ones that would fall apart in three months and then I’d just be right back where I started.

I wanted the life that celebrities lived. Hell, I wanted to go to parties on the same yachts the Kardashian-Jenners did, even if I couldn’t fucking stand them.

And with Bucky… I wouldn’t have that.

“So why’d you go on the run anyway?” Bucky asked one night as we sat on the curb, eating ice cream in the Louisiana heat. “I know you told me how you got here, but you’ve never told me why.”

“You’ve never told me how you ended up here or why either,” I shot back, nudging his shoulder with my own.

Somehow the age difference seemed non-existent as we sat there. Honestly, I felt like we were just a bunch of dumb teenagers, shooting the shit and enjoying each other’s company.

Bucky took in a deep breath, his shoulders sinking in a way that made it look like he had all the weight of the world on his shoulders. “I was over in Afghanistan for a long time,” he admitted quietly. “When the war first started, I was 19. I had no idea where my life was going and I had no options except my dad’s mechanic shop. So I enlisted with my best friend, Steve. The one I told you about.”

It’s completely silent except for the sound of an occasional car horn off in the distance.

“Neither one of us knew what we were doing. We realized very quickly that we had no reason being over there, but… but there was nothing else,” he said, swallowing around the lump in his throat. The ice cream he was holding was melting in his trembling hands. “I didn’t know how to do anything else, so I stayed. Steve moved up in the ranks, but I stayed pretty low… I didn’t mind. Kinda liked being the older guy all those young kids could talk to, could rely on… Because they were just like me, getting into a fight that wasn’t theirs because they had nothing else.”

My heart was shattering inside my chest as I scooted a little closer, my knee knocking against his as I tried to give him some sort of silent comfort. He’d been through Hell and made it through.

Bucky let his head rest against mine, his eyes closing as he breathed in the scent of my perfume. “They eventually moved me to some kind of specialized team… Called us the Howling Commandos. I found out that Steve was heading it and he picked me to be part of it. That’s how I met Sam, because he was on some sort of similar team with the Air Force, except it was just him and his friend, Riley,” he continued, taking a bite of his chocolate fudge brownie ice cream. “I am proud to say that I didn’t kill a single person while I was over there. I just couldn’t. Hell, they’re people just like me, terrified and unsure of what’s going to happen.” His lips pressed against my forehead, letting it linger. “But then about five years ago, I was on a mission with the Commandos, Sam, and Riley, and… this bomb went off while we were playing a game of soccer. I wasn’t even in a fight. That thing took my arm and it took Riley.”

Tentatively, I let my fingers find his, holding his hand and squeezing reassuringly.

“Sam decided to come home with me.” There was a forlorn look in his eyes, as though he was right back at that game of pick-up soccer. “After losing Riley… he couldn’t find a reason to be over there. And then Steve decided to stay, and hell, he’s still over there, leading that fucking team…” Glassy baby blue eyes finally found mine, the both of us doing our best to not cry. “I couldn’t face my family for a long time, so Sam asked me to come stay in Louisiana with him and his family, and I haven’t left since.”

“Have you gone to see your family?” I asked slowly, almost like I was scared I’d frighten him if I spoke too loudly, like a wild animal. “Let them know where you are? That you’re safe?”

He turned to look at me, his baby blues shining. “You worried about me, baby doll?”

“I can’t help it,” I said honestly, unable to tear my eyes away. I hadn’t opened up to someone like that in so damn long. “I can’t help but worry about you.”

The way that I felt about Bucky absolutely terrified me, but there was nothing I could do to stop it. It snuck up on me, like a train coming around a bend.

I hated it.

“What do you want out of this life?” Bucky asked on one walk home, his arm linked in mine. He’d become so much more… tactile. If anyone took a moment to look at us, they’d think we were a couple on a romantic stroll.

Perhaps we were.

But I couldn’t help but grin as I looked up at the sky, taking in the warm air. “I wanna live like how the movie stars do… I want a big house on the beach and twenty cars and a yacht and… and…”

He looked at me long and hard. “And you never wanna have to worry about where your next meal is coming from, if you’re gonna have a place to sleep at night…”

For some reason, I’d felt a bolt of panic over whether or not he’d understand. Whether or not he’d think differently of me, but I should’ve known that he wouldn’t. Hell, he knew me better than anyone else.

“You understand,” I said quietly, my hand squeezing his bicep gratefully. “I want to live how the other half lives for once. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.”

A small smile graced his features as we shuffled along. “There isn’t. But… What about love?” He asked.

“Love?”

“Love.”

Love.

Could I even have love? Did I want it?

“I don’t know if there’s a lot of room for love in my plans,” I admitted after a long moment. “In my experience, love has always just been a lie. A word used to manipulate and eventually abuse.”

Letting out a snort, he let his fingers tickle down my tricep until his fingers intertwined with mine. “I’d show you it’s not… I’d show you what real love is,” he said. “I’d give you every part of me, give you all my strength to help you grow into who you wanna be, even if I don’t particularly care about being famous or rich…” He brought my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles. “I’ll give you a love story, a life, that’s a million times better than any recycled Hollywood plot… I’ll give you the stars and the moon, if you would just let me.”

I hated the way that he made my heart beat faster, the way my breath hitched. “Jamie,” I breathed out quietly, the two of us having stopped in our tracks to just… take each other in. Live in each other’s presence for a moment. “I…”

“You want a big life… one a lot bigger than little old me,” he said simply, shrugging. His blue eyes were so honest, so loving. So warm. A warmth I hadn’t ever experienced before. “I know. But that doesn’t change that I’m in love with you. And if you ever change your mind…” Bucky reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card, pressing it into my free hand. “This is where you can find me. I figure it’s time for me to go home.”

We’d come to a stop in front of my building, and I was shocked at how tight my chest felt. My eyes watered as I stared at him long and hard. “Jamie, please… I⏤”

“Don’t say it. It’s okay,” he insisted as he cupped my cheek, letting his thumb run over my skin as though he was memorizing it. “I just want you to be happy, darling. You got that?” His lips pressed to my forehead, letting it linger. “Go get that life you’ve been dreaming of.”

Twenty-Three

I left New Orleans the next day, grabbing a bus ticket after throwing all of my belongings into my old duffel bag. It was time to move on.

But God, did it hurt.

I didn’t stop crying for weeks, fighting the urge to go right back to Louisiana and tell Bucky to take it back, to get him to beg me to stay with him.

But what kind of life would that leave me with? Working in the diner day after day? Never getting anywhere?

But you’d have James, a voice inside my head reminded me snarkily.

Then again, he most likely wasn’t even in New Orleans anymore, if what he said was true when he gave me the business card of his father’s mechanic shop. Was he really planning on going home to New York City?

A few months later, and I’d worked my way all through the southwest to Santa Fe, where I met Pietro.

My heart was pounding as I pressed in the familiar numbers, having memorized them from the business card now soft and faded from how often I held it in my hands like a lifeline. “Come on… Pick up… Pick up…”

“Barnes Tires and Motors, this is George,” a man said in a gruff voice when he finally picked up. “How can I help you?”

“H-Hi, is James there? James Barnes? Bucky?” I stammered out, hands trembling so bad that the old payphone was almost rattling.

There was a pause, and then muffled talking away from the phone.

And then I heard it being picked up. “This is Bucky,” he said.

It felt like the wind had been knocked right out of my lungs. How had I gone so long without hearing his voice?

Breathing in sharply, I tried to figure out the words to say. But my throat was dry and it was like I’d suddenly forgotten the entire English language.

That was all that it took for Bucky to realize it was me. “Baby doll? Baby doll, is that you?” He asked quietly. “I…” He took in a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. “You don’t gotta say a thing, sweetheart… But just know that if you’re in trouble or you need help or… or anything at all, you better call me…” His voice wavered, as though he was fighting tears just like I was. “God, I miss you so much, baby doll. I love you.”

I love you, too.

I hung up before I could actually say the words. “God, I’m so fucking stupid,” I whispered as I leaned back against the wall of the gas station I’d found myself at, rubbing the heels of my hands into my eyes.

My dumb ass had decided to wander from the bus station, and I’d walked over a mile away. Unless I was staying in Santa Fe for a bit, I’d need to start making my way back.

“You okay?”

In my distress, I hadn’t even heard the rumbling of the motorcycle or noticed the handsome man making his way to me. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” I said even as I wiped my nose with a pathetic sniffle.

He eyed me for a long moment, his eyes roaming over my figure. “You hungry? I know a great little place nearby. My treat.”

And well, I was never one to turn down free food.

Even if that ‘little place’ ended up being a food truck.

“You know, when you said it was a little place, I didn’t picture it having wheels,” I said teasingly, licking salsa off of my lower lip. “Though, it is the best food I’ve ever gotten from a food truck before.”

“Oh, come on. This is the best food of all time!” He laughed, shaking his head.

“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” I snorted, finishing off my flautas.

Pietro looked at me long and hard. “So, are you gonna tell me what the hell was going on to have a pretty girl like you all teary eyed?” He asked, his head tilting to the side.

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “Was this your plan all along?” I asked. Wiping my hands off on a napkin, I did everything I could to avoid his eyes. “Get me all fed and then question me?” But at the same time, the thought of being able to finally talk to someone about it was so appealing… After a long moment of hesitation, I finally gave in. “I fell in love with a man, and he let me go because he knew that I want a life he can’t give me,” I said. “And I was a bitch who didn’t even tell him I love him back when he said it to me.”

Pietro took in a deep breath, slowly letting it out. “Damn. You really are a stone cold bitch, aren’t you?”

“Hey!” I indignantly threw a chunk of tomato at him, glaring. “I just opened up my heart, you dickwad.”

“Dickwad?!” He said, blinking at me in shock. “No one’s ever called me a dickwad before.”

I raised a single eyebrow at him. “Maybe not to your face, but they definitely have.” He gave off the vibe of a fuckboy, of a really, really bad fuckboy.

“Well, since you’re running away from your feelings, how about you spend a week or two with me on the road?” He asked with a grin.

I couldn’t help but blink at him in shock. “What?” I let out a laugh, pulling one of my legs up to my chest. “Do you throw that line out to every girl you meet? Or am I just special?”

Pietro threw a chip at me, and I barely managed to dodge it. “No, I don’t. But… You remind me of me. Needing adventure. A life bigger than four walls and a fence.”

Instinctively, I wanted to snap back that sometimes, four walls and a fence could be an adventure, could be the biggest life there was, as Bucky’s face flashed across my mind.

But I couldn’t do that. Not when I wasn’t ready to face the truth myself.

“Come on, sweet cheeks,” he teased as his foot hooked around mine. “Just think of it. The open highway, a rhythm beneath your feet… Nights full of passion and days of adventure…” Pietro’s voice was deep and husky, as though he was trying to lure me in. “No strings… just warm summer rain soaking us to the bone before we find some cheap motel to huddle down in…”

Plastering on a smile, I stood up and brushed myself on. “Thanks, but… I’d rather be drinking champagne, and the quicker I get to LA, the sooner I will be.”

He let me go with a kiss on the cheek and his cell number pressed into my hand, with a promise to come and pick me up the second I rang.

And despite how sweet he was, how wild and funny and charismatic, there was only one man I wanted to call.

Twenty-Four

I sipped at my martini as I sat at the rooftop bar, absentmindedly watching the television that was mounted on the wall as people droned around me. I’d been in Los Angeles for a year, and I’d spent my time finding the best places to find a husband who could give me the life I dreamed of.

As much as I didn’t want to admit it, it took connections to build a career, and the best way to get a foot in the door when nepotism was so rampant was by marrying someone in the industry.

My silk dress was the most expensive thing I owned, something I’d saved up for months for, had skipped meals for. And fuck, was it worth it. I could feel the stares, the lingering gazes on the little bit of thigh that was exposed by the slit in the dress.

I’d already turned away several men, able to tell just from their expensive watches and cheap suits and shoes.

It was amazing how all the up and coming finance bros thought they fit in with the truly big dogs.

“Well, hello, gorgeous.”

I turned to see who was speaking, my heart skipping a beat when I realized who I was speaking to.

The world famous (or infamous) director, Tony Stark.

“Hello, handsome,” I said smoothly, my lashes fluttering innocently as I took a sip of my horrible drink.

I fucking hated martinis. Always had.

But ordering a martini was more sophisticated than ordering a frozen strawberry margarita.

“Is this seat taken?” He asked as he motioned to the empty bar stool right next to me, even as he was already sitting down. “Let me buy your next round.”

“I can’t think of anything better,” I said, feeling as though my dream life was already in reach.

Twenty-Eight

“Tony, where are you taking me?” I laughed as I let my boyfriend lead me to the private dock at our Malibu mansion.

Well, his mansion. I just happened to also live there.

It had been a whirlwind of a year since I had met Tony, and he’d bought me that second round. He’d taken me all over the globe, anywhere my heart desired.

But I made sure to avoid New York City, though he never understood why. I would never tell him.

Not when I was so close to my dream. I could practically taste it.

“Come on, come on. I have a surprise for you,” he said, keeping his hands over my eyes. He was sure to keep me from tripping and busting my ass, thank god.

The ocean waves were so comforting as they hit the shore, a sound I’d gotten used to over the past year.

He finally brought me to a stop, quietly telling me to keep my eyes closed. “Okay,” he said finally. “Open them.”

My eyes slowly opened, adjusting to the bright light of the California sun. But I was more shocked by the sight of Tony on one knee in front of me, holding out a box with a sparkling diamond ring in it. “Tony?”

The ring was the size of a fucking meteor. It was easily the biggest ring I’d ever seen.

“You know, I never thought I’d meet someone like you,” he said quietly, his dark eyes shining. But his voice was steady. “Someone who understands me, who doesn’t expect me to change into someone I’m not. You accept me as I am, and that’s why I want to give you the world.” He couldn’t help but grin as he nodded to the right. “Starting with that yacht you’ve always dreamed of.”

I hadn’t even noticed that there were two yachts at his private docks instead of just the one. The new one had SS Princess emblazoned on the side, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh… Tony…”

“So, what do you say?” He asked, bringing my attention back to him. “Will you be my wife?”

“Yes.”

Thirty-Two

Swallowing nervously, I looked down at the business card in my hand for the millionth time, the stock paper soft from how often I’d looked at it in the past ten years.

Hell, just how often I’d looked at it in the past six should’ve made it fall apart by now. Not that I didn’t have it memorized.

I’d finally ended my marriage after being miserable for so long. I’d gotten my yacht, my fancy houses, my career, all the jewelry that I could dream of, and none of it made me happy. Tony and I… never grew. And I never dreamed. Every day was the same, and every day was torture as I realized that I didn’t have the one thing that actually mattered.

The garage in front of me was busy, music blasting and the sound of men shouting to each other as they worked.

Suddenly I felt absolutely ridiculous wearing a Chanel dress and Gucci heels, an Hermés bag on my arm.

BARNES TIRES AND MOTORS was lit up along the top of the shop in bright red letters, though the lights in the ‘r’ of ‘motors’ were out.

I felt like a fool. I had wanted the life I had so desperately that I gave up everything for it. I got the movie star life, my name on billboards and my face on magazines.

But it wasn’t ever enough.

My heels clicked against the blacktop as I slowly made my way towards the front area of the shop, bells clinging above my head to let them know someone was there.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” A man asked as he came around the corner.

He looked so much like Bucky, it punched the air straight from my lungs.

“H-Hi. I’m looking for James Barnes. Is he here?” I asked after a long moment of hesitation. There was no way that the man was Bucky, but I didn’t doubt he was related.

The man raised his brows, wiping his hands on a rag. “My son’s in the shop. I’ll take you to him.” His full head of hair was white, his thick facial hair matching. Even with all the wrinkles on his face, he was a handsome man. Holding open the door for me, he led me into the loud shop, some eighties rock song blasting over the speakers.

I couldn’t help but smile as ‘Rock You Like a Hurricane’ by Scorpions came on. It was one of Bucky’s favorites back when we worked in the diner together.

“BUCK! YOU GOT A VISITOR!” The man shouted, causing several people to look our way.

My cheeks felt hot as I avoided their gaze, hoping they wouldn’t recognize me. I didn’t want to be a famous movie star anymore, a celebrity that had to beg for scraps of privacy.

My mind went numb, my heart stopping inside my chest as he stepped around a gray Ford Escape another man was working on.

He was even more handsome than he was the last time I saw him.

“Can I help y—” He broke off, his blue eyes going wide when he realized that it was me. “Hi.”

All of a sudden, everything I’d planned to say flew out of my head. All of the eloquent words I’d strung together were gone. And I just proceeded to word vomit.

“Did you know that, uh, when you marry someone you’re not in love with, you won’t… you won’t grow into it?” I asked, my voice shaking. “Um… I married a man who could give me a life I thought I always wanted, and he just… sucked.” Eyes stinging, I fought back against tears. “And I thought that all I ever wanted was the life I have now, was the life movie stars and the Kardashians lived. But… But I hate it. I hated every second I was away from you.” I let out a weak laugh, unable to stop the tears. “I wanted to turn around the second I got on the bus in New Orleans, but my stupid stubborn ass didn’t. I should have. I should’ve gotten off and just run right back to you because I… I love you, James. I always have.”

The garage had gone almost deadly quiet, and my heart sank when I realized Bucky looked almost frozen in shock.

“I know that I shouldn’t have showed up like this,” I scrambled to say. “But I… I’ve been trying to get my divorce finalized for two years and I finally did, and I kept telling myself that once it was done, I’d never hold myself back from what I really want ever again. From who I want. If… If you want me.” My face felt like it was on fire, my hands shaking. I shook my head as I took a step backwards. “What am I thinking? There’s no way you’re not married. I… I’m so so—”

Before I could finish the word ‘sorry,’ Bucky had closed the distance between us, his hands cradling my face so gently. He held me like I was made of fine crystal as he kissed me. He kissed me like his life depended on it, like I was the one source of oxygen.

And I kissed him back just as fiercely. “I love you. I love you so much,” I breathed out in between kisses, unwilling to let him go as my Hermés bag fell into the dust and oil on the concrete below.

Bucky smiled into the kiss, his arm wrapping around my waist to keep me pressed to his chest. “I love you so much, darlin.’ God, I’ve missed you…” His nose nudged against mine as we finally broke for air, both of us breathing heavily.

My knees felt like Jell-O as I held onto him. His grip was the only reason I hadn’t fallen to the ground already.

“I’m sorry I was a dumb twenty-two year old,” I said, snorting as he stole another kiss.

“No… Don’t be sorry,” he insisted, his fingers massaging my scalp as our foreheads pressed together. It was like he was scared to stop touching me, like I would disappear at any second. “You were young… You had to go out and make your own mistakes… I’ve just been waiting for the day you were ready.”

All the years apart melted away and all that remained was the two of us, two souls so intertwined that there was no way to truly separate us.

Our lips were half molded together as I said, “I’m never leaving you again. I promise I swear on everything…”

My heart almost stopped inside my chest as I heard someone clearing their throat, looking to see Bucky’s father staring at us with his arms crossed over his chest. “M-Mr. Barnes, sir…”

He gave a crooked smile that was so reminiscent of Bucky that I couldn’t help but grin back. “The Mrs. will wanna know if you’re staying for dinner.”

“Yeah,” I said as I looked up at Bucky, toying with a strand of his hair. “That sounds perfect.”

Later that night, Bucky and I laid in his bed, a mess of bare limbs as his fingers ran up and down my back soothingly. “What do you want from this life, baby girl?” He asked absentmindedly.

Humming, I traced shapes on his bare chest, sometimes pressing a kiss to where his prosthetic met his shoulder, on the tender scar tissue. “You.”

A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, despite the already mischievous look on his face. “Really? Not even the stars and the moon?” He asked teasingly.

I knew he’d give it to me anyway, give me all that he could. But I was sure now that the only thing I wanted from this life was his love. “Not even the stars and the moon.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes reader insert

[hanazuma-inactive]

Hey, thinking back to your “conversation” with the Kaminari anon, I got an idea.

Basically- Y/n (M! Reader) and Kaminari are having a competition at work, and the winner will get to top that night. The competition is pretty simple; at the end of the day, they will count up how many civilians they helped and how many villains they took down each. The one with the highest number, is the winner. The two had done this challenge quite a few times before, and Y/n had won almost every time due to Kaminari’s quirk’s side effect. But this time, Kaminari had made sure to prepare. He had trained with Bakugou to try and build his tolerance and had also gotten help from Kirishima to figure out which streets were busier and full of people during the day. And after convincing his boss to let him patrol that particular street, it had all worked out. He had won the competition, and what was waiting at home was a long night.. kinky-

Take your time and don’t rush it, Rei. Have a nice day/night! :>

lust games (nsfw), denki x reader

pronouns: he/him (FEMALE ORIENTED DNI!!)

warnings: edging, flirty denki, vibrator, light bondage

a/n: i love denki sm ty for this request, this was also an amazing prompt

_____

pro hero chargebolt and h/n, always arriving at the scene just in time and occasionally a little late. the citizens could always depend on the couple to save the day with their amazing synergy and playful manner of defeating the villains. you and denki mostly patrolled near each other during work so the two of you usually help each other out when needed. or y'know, the blonde hero might casually stroll over to your area with a cup of coffee in his hand and lay a few flirtatious words on you.

"i'm winning today! and there's no doubt about it!" is a sentence you hear from your boyfriend almost every single day but never fulfilled his promise. he came close before but it never actually happened. this little game of yours started when the two of you started to lose motivation to work in general. knowing denki being the horn dog he is, you proposed this game. whoever helped the most civilians, or captured the most villains will get to top for that night. and ever since then, you've been winning everyday without fail, leaving denki as the bottom for the night.

he didn't mind as long as it was with you but a competition is a competition and he tries everyday to reverse what usually happens. little did you know today was the day it finally happened. denki had been training secretly by himself so that his quirk wouldn't overload himself as easily. it might also count a bit as cheating but he asked his friend, kirishima, to leak him all the locations near his area where civilians need help. in a way it's kind of sweet to think about all the things that he would do just for you. at the end of your patrols you tallied up the counts.

"56...57 and 58, how bout you denks?"

"56, 57, 58 and...59. i won! i won! you know what that means?! denki shouted and jumped in joy.

"alright alright! good job, i knew you could do it. i'll be waiting for what you have in store then~"

"oh just you wait baby boy, i'll give you the night of your life!" denki said while shooting finger guns at you.

you weren't expecting anything special, just usually what you do to denki but in return. what tricks could he have up his sleeves anyways right? you headed home with denki after that and enjoyed a hot bath and dinner together. you cooked denki's favorite hamburgers to reward him for doing so well at work today. the two of you watched some tv afterwards and relaxed in each other's arms, almost forgetting the big event for tonight.

"hey babeeee~" the blonde cooed in a flirting tone.

"hm? what's up."

"did you forget what i won today?"

"oh yah, you did win that huh. well, i'm ready for anything you're gonna do to me so…do your worst."

"with pleasure~"

denki picked you up with his arms bridal style and carried you inside the bedroom. he settled you down the bed and sat you up as he towered over you. not fazed by his actions you giggled a little at his attempt to top but it was still cute. your boyfriend gave you an angry pout and placed his lips onto yours. caressing you and stroking your arms gently while he was at it. you were usually rougher with him so it was a surprise to you how gentle he was.

the kiss ended with denki blushing and a smirk from you. despite all the preparations denki made he still gets flustered whenever he shares a kiss with you, it was adorable of course.

"a-alright! you won't be ready for this!"

"oh? let's see what you got, baby boy."

denki moved his lips down around your nipples. lifting your shirt up enough so that your abs and pink nipples are exposed, kaminari started to work on them. he was surprisingly well with his tongue. the blonde has been on his knees many times sucking your dick, but this was a different type of pleasure. it made you more sensitive than usual and you felt your cock start to rise inside your pants.

"wow~ look what we got here baby?"

you look down to see the bulge in your pants. unable to contain it any longer, denki took off your pants to reveal the cock that's been throbbing ever since he got started. he reached for your cock and started to stroke it while kissing your nipples. the stimulation from both below and above felt so good it didn't take long for you to start leaking some precum. seeing this, denki rubbed the tip of your cock and spread the precum onto the rest of your length for lubrication. he started to speed up his strokes and just when you were about to cum, denki stopped stroking your cock and focused on your nipples, making you orgasm from them instead.

the cum got all over your abs and some on denki's face. he gladly licked it all up and gave you a grin in return.

"just wait baby...if you felt good with that you won't be able to handle what comes next…"

you were a little scared of what denki was about to do next but excited at the same time. the blonde reached into the nightstand and grabbed a small rope to tie your hands up with.

"h-hey denks! what's this for?! you're kidding right!"

"ah uh uh~ this is to make sure you stay still for later hehe…"

you realized resistance was futile against your boyfriend and he had entire control over you right now. you let go of your defense and let him tie you up to the headboards. he reached into the night stand again to pull out an egg looking toy with a remote around it. you knew what it was but you didn't know when and how denki got his hands on it. denki placed it on the side and licked two of his fingers. lifting your legs up right after to prepare your asshole. he reached your prostate so fast and it felt amazing.

"f-fuck denki, right there...that's the spot o-oh fuck-"

"hehe~ these are just some tricks i learned by myself, glad to know it's making you feel good baby."

denki continued to loosen you until his fingers can enter and exit smoothly. it also wasn't a surprise your cock was hard again and dripping with precum. denki's eyes lit up seeing your hard cock and he grabbed the egg shaped toy he put out earlier. carefully, he strapped the toy to the tip of your cock and grabbed the remote control himself. he tested some different levels of vibration and found the right one judging from the volume of your moans. you started panting after denki finally settled down with the remote but you realized he wasn't done there. he won the game and he hasn't got what he wanted yet.

"alright baby boy! time for the main course, get ready for the night of your fucking life…"

denki took off his pants and stroked his cock a little. aligning the tip with your ass and slapping gently a few times before entering.

"oh fuck baby...didn't know you were this tight."

"hnngh…denki a-ah~"

denki struggled to fit in his entire length in your ass but managed after a few min. his cock immediately hitting your prostate and the vibrator on your dick getting you close.

"denki...please start moving, i want it…"

"you asked for it baby, here i go, hnngh!"

your boyfriend slowly started to move his hips, thrusting his cock into you again and again, deeper and deeper every time. you've never felt this type of pleasure before being the top and it left you speechless. it was a little painful at first but eventually felt heavenly. denki began to move faster because your moans became louder. his flirty attitude disappearing as he gasped for breathe in sync with you.

"f-fuck y/n, baby, i'm gonna cum soon, your ass feels too fucking good."

"please d-do, cum inside denki, cum inside!"

denki leaned over to you and connected his lips with yours while you wrapped your arms around his neck. his cock pumping cum into your ass while you came as well from his cock. both of you left breathless after the new experience you had. denki gave you a faint smile, glad to know you enjoyed it as you grabbed him back in for a kiss. leaning your foreheads together you two giggled, laughing at each other. he layed down next to you and wrapped his arms around your waist, you were pretty tired too so you let it slide today without cleaning up. denki snuggled into your back as you gave him one last kiss on his forehead before heading to bed.

#bnha #bnha x m!reader #bnha x male reader #bnha x reader #bnha smut #bnha x male reader smut #boku no hero x reader #boku no hero x male reader #boku no hero x male reader smut #bnha x m!reader smut #mha x reader #mha x male reader #mha smut #mha x reader smut #mha x male reader smut #denki #denki kaminari #denki x reader #denki x reader smut #denki x male reader #denki x male reader smut #denki x m!reader #denki x m!reader smut #denki smut #denki kaminari smut

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

heated, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: An (innocent?) conversation about D/s dynamics accidentally leads to you confessing that you think about your childhood best friend while getting off. To your childhood best friend, Jeon Jungkook. Erm. This is after he told you that you would be “an awful sub”, btw.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, discussions about adult topics; reader is bisexual; smut (fem reader, dry humping, fingering, [tiny bit] m-receiving oral, penetrative sex); fluffy af; non-idol!AU; F2L; softdom!Jungkook x softbrat!reader; you kind of have a forearm kink and you never let Jungkook have his lovey-dovey moment, whoops

MMA 2020 ‘ON’ Jungkook? Yeah. That one.

--

“I could never be a sub.”

You clicked rapidly as you spoke, mashing the right button on your mouse. It was quite loud, paired with your mechanical keyboard.

“Why not?”

The music coming from Jeon Jungkook’s smartphone was a rhythm game, nearly as loud as you, since he was grunting angrily at it. It was very obvious when he missed a beat.

“I can’t imagine that being me, you know?”

You, on the other hand, were on your computer, playing with the new items in League of Legends from the latest patch. Using the practice tool, you had loaded up your favorite champion, Jhin, the Virtuoso, and messed with various builds, trying to find the best combination. So far, Lethality was feeling pretty good.

“Like why would I ever let my pleasure be handled by someone else?” you mused, reading the high damage numbers of each shot. Oh, the fourth shot felt nice. “That sounds stupid.”

Jungkook rolled over on your bed, growling in his throat as the level ended. He restarted it, trying to get a better score. “Maybe people like to let go sometimes. You know, not always be in control.”

You snorted. “I could never trust someone else with my body.”

“You got an alien body or something?”

“Shut up, Jungkook.”

“No.”

“Fine.”

“Anyway,” Jungkook continued, ignoring your outburst. “I didn’t ask if you could be a sub, I just asked what you thought of domination and submission as a dynamic in general.”

You shrugged, trying to see if you could do Baron alone. Welp, you needed lifesteal, of course. “I mean, I’ve tried it in various situations. I was never the sub.”

“Kinky.”

“Shut up, Jungkook.”

“No.” Jungkook suddenly sat up, excited that he achieved a higher score. “Look, look. I got ninety-eight.”

You craned your head to look at his phone screen. “Why isn’t it one hundred? You’re a disgrace to this family.”

He bopped you on the nose with his phone. “If I was part of your family, your family would be even more dysfunctional than it is now.”

You rubbed your nose and looked up at him. “How much gel did you use in your hair? You look like a wet dog.”

Jungkook’s eyebrows went up and he touched his long black hair. “It’s not crunchy though.” He grabbed your hand and lowered his head, placing your palm on his slicked back hair. “See?”

You pulled your hand back, staring at your palm. “Still feels weird though. I call sorcery.”

He shrugged, creaking the black leather jacket he was wearing. He wore a black t-shirt under it. The black jeans he had been wearing were on your bed, swapped for the black joggers he kept at your place. You weren’t really sure why he left the jacket on. Maybe he was cold or something. It was pretty cold in your apartment. You were wearing fleece green pajamas with Pikachu all over them.

“You want me to turn the heat up?” you said, gesturing to his jacket.

Jungkook looked down at his chest. “Eh. It’s fine. Saves you money.”

You shrugged, getting up from your chair, leaving the League client open. “You’re only staying a little while, right? Party to go to and all that?”

Jungkook followed you as you left your room. “Told you it was cancelled, so I was just going to sleep over. No reason to go back home.”

You turned around, walking backwards. “When did you say it was cancelled?”

Jungkook raised his dark eyebrows. “Literally when I walked in your apartment.”

“Hah.”

You turned back around and went to your fridge, grabbing an aloe juice. Jungkook went to your water kettle, hunting for hot chocolate among your tea packets.

“You’d make an awful sub anyway,” Jungkook said, returning to the original subject as he filled the kettle with water from your filtered sink faucet. “Like, probably the fucking worst.”

You took a large swig and glared at him. “Alright, first of all, you wouldn’t even–”

“You’re terrible with authority.”

You paused. “Okay, true.”

“You’re angry, twenty-four, seven.”

You walked up to him and slapped him in his very hard pecs. He gestured at his chest, as if to indicate, exhibit A.

“And you’re super uptight.”

“I am not uptight.”

“Control freak.”

“That’s–”

Jungkook turned around and placed the kettle on its stand. You swooped in with a Pikachu-themed kitchen towel and wiped the excess water away, scowling. Jungkook raised his eyebrows at you, brown eyes laughing.

“That’s literally a safety hazard!” you exclaimed, waving the towel at him.

Jungkook rolled his eyes and pressed the button to start heating the water. “Haven’t you ever just… not freaked out over every little thing? Done something spontaneous and stupid?”

You placed the kitchen towel back in its proper place. “No, because that would be spontaneous and stupid, Jeon Jungkook.”

He leaned against the counter, watching you perfectly fold the towel into three parts and hang it on the rail. He scratched his nose, shaking his head. “You should be more like me.”

“Having the police called on you because you were standing on a lawn chair tooting a party horn at four in the morning?”

“That was one time! Stop bringing it up,” Jungkook groaned.

You raised your hands in innocence. “Well, I was the one called to pick you up because you literally couldn’t remember any other number and I was very disturbed on New Year’s Eve, where I should have been peacefully sleeping and not hauling your drunk ass across town.”

Jungkook sighed exaggeratedly. “I’m sorry, okay? I won’t drink that much again. Jimin made me do shots–”

“You always blame Park Jimin,” you interjected, smiling. “Jimin’s the kind of guy who only wears clothes to take them off.”

“Well, it gets him laid, so I guess it’s working.”

The kettle whistled noisily, cutting through the conversation. You took a sip from your aloe juice as Jungkook grabbed a mug from your cupboard and poured the hot chocolate powder into it.

“You want some milk?”

He looked up. “You have milk?”

You went to the fridge and took out a small carton. “Because you said you were coming.”

“Aw, what a sweetie.”

“Shut up, Jungkook.”

“No.”

That’s how it was with you two. Growing up together was the same conversation over and over of you constantly saying shut up and Jungkook always replying with no. If both your dads hadn’t been such good friends, you probably wouldn’t have been able to tolerate him. Since they were, you were forced to, which turned out to be okay, since it turned out you had similar interests in games and such. It drifted apart a bit when you two entered high school, but you two reconnected once university started.

The dysfunctionality Jungkook was referring to was your two older sisters, who both got pregnant out of wedlock and thus caused a lot of tension between them, your parents, and you, the one who hadn’t actually done that yet. And you were trying to keep it that way.

Jungkook poured half-water and half-milk, stirring it with a silver spoon he found in your drawer. You lived alone, having gotten a full scholarship to be able to pay for tuition, meals, and part of a small apartment. Your parents paid for the rest – another point of strain between you and your sisters. That’s why you kept your grades up and rarely went out.

“When was the last time you fucked a guy?”

You sucked the inside of your cheek. “Dunno. Maybe two years ago.”

Jungkook raised his eyebrows and took a long sip. “So, only girls, huh?”

You tilted your head and sighed. “They don’t get you pregnant.”

“Neither does a condom.”

“That’s a ninety-eight percent chance, not one hundred.”

He licked the excess off his pink lips. He looked like he wanted to say something, but reconsidered, taking another sip before replying. “You don’t miss dick?”

“I mean, a dildo is a dick.”

Jungkook nearly spat out his hot chocolate. You snatched your Pikachu towel again and threatened him with it. He raised a hand, coughing.

“A dildo is not a dick,” he hacked out. “You insult me.”

“Hmph.” You turned back around and placed the Pikachu towel back in its place, making sure the graphic was perfectly centered.

“You tell your parents?”

You narrowed your eyes. ‘Why the fuck would I tell my parents that I fuck girls instead of guys to avoid getting pregnant?”

He shrugged. “Give them peace of mind?”

“You think too highly of the generation before us.”

Jungkook gave you a weird look. “So… you’re just using them?”

“No.” You paused. “Okay, maybe a little, but it’s not because they’re girls. I guess I haven’t found someone who understands me yet.”

He took a long, noisy sip of hot chocolate. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“No one can understand you if you only fuck once and drop them.”

“Wouldn’t you fucking know,” you replied irritably.

“Now, I fuck multiple times before I realize it’s not going to work out,” Jungkook countered.

You shoved your bottle of aloe juice back into your fridge. Suddenly, you weren’t thirsty anymore.

“Is that the only reason?”

You closed the fridge door.

“Reason for what?”

“Is fear of pregnancy the only reason you fuck girls?”

“I don’t know!” you shouted, throwing your hands up. You spun around, blowing hot air. “I don’t fucking know why I do it, Jungkook. I don’t know why I load up dating apps to only hook up with girls, I don’t know why I don’t try to get into relationships with them, I don’t know what is wrong with me and why I can’t give anyone a chance and I don’t know why you pop up in my head every time I try to fucking masturbate! It is annoying and I do not like it, so I try to get off with someone else!”

Your chest was heaving with exertion and annoyance, hand curled onto a fist and planted on your kitchen counter, glaring at the space past Jungkook’s head, muscle twitching in your cheek. Your heart was beating so fast it didn’t feel real.

Silence.

“Fuck you, Jungkook.”

And then you turned around, stalking back to your bedroom.

Or would have, if you didn’t hear the clink of the mug touching the kitchen counter and Jungkook grabbing your upper arm, yanking you back, slamming you against his muscular body. You hissed, staring into his chest.

“Let me go.”

“Hold on a second.” You watched Jungkook take a deep breath, his toned, tan skin rising and falling. The silver necklace on his collarbones flashed as he breathed. “Just hold on a damn second.”

Your eyes were on the low neckline of his black shirt. It felt weird being close to him. Not that you two haven’t been physically close, because you had. But it had never been like this. Since you realized he wouldn’t leave your mind every time you tried to masturbate. Since you started looking to other people to push him out. Since you were sure that it was not just a passing thought, not just your brain playing tricks on you. And being this close to him now, you understood.

And it scared you.

“You cannot dump all that on me and expect me not to react,” Jungkook said quietly.

“Shut up, Jungkook.”

“No,” he snapped. He grabbed both your upper arms and shook you violently, making you jerk your head up to blink at him. Jungkook furrowed his brows, his dark eyes glaring at you, jaw clenched tightly. “I will not shut up. Why should I shut up? I should shut you up.”

And then he kissed you.

Your eyes widened. Jungkook’s pink lips were on you. You. On your lips, pressed firmly against them, gripping you so tight you were losing feeling in your arms. You tore back, stumbling, touching your lips, shoulders shaking, not sure why your heart was beating out of your chest, not sure why your lips tingled and wanted more, not sure why Jungkook slowly opening his eyes and flickering to you made your knees knock together uncomfortably.

“What are you doing?” you sputtered. “You don’t even… what…?”

“I’m kissing you,” he growled, walking up to you and pinning you against the counter. “I’m fucking kissing you because you want me to.”

“I don’t…”

“Just shut up, please.”

And then Jungkook kissed you again, harder this time, pressing you against the kitchen counter, hands coming up and taking you by the waist, pulling you to him and his leather jacket, him and his black shirt, breathing your name into your lips, your hands grabbing his t-shirt and yanking him to you, gasping into his mouth. And you wanted to say, no, no, you weren’t supposed to know, but it was too late because you were shoving his leather jacket off, grasping his shoulders, fingers pressing into his hard muscles, sliding down his biceps.

You yanked your head back and his hand came up to grab it back, kissing you more, more, tongue licking your lips, hissing your name, grinding his hips against yours. Your hand came up in between you two, stopping him, stopping him and his insatiable lips.

“You have to s-say–” You moaned, feeling him harden against your fleece pajamas. “You have to say it.”

“Say what?” Jungkook muttered impatiently, kissing your hand, speaking into your palm.

“Say you’re okay with it,” you gritted out as he rolled his crotch into yours.

“Obviously I’m okay with it,” he grumbled. “Why else am I humping you in your kitchen?”

“You said I’m a c-control freak,” you groaned, throwing your head back as Jungkook slid his hands down to your ass and squeezed it, grinding against you.

“You are,” he grunted. “You can’t let go, you can’t enjoy yourself, you can’t even tell me you like me so I can fucking fuck you already, instead of me cancelling my parties so I can spend time laying on your bed and staring at you playing video games wondering when you’re going to fucking notice that I want to bang you.”

“What?” you replied breathlessly.

Jungkook rolled his eyes. “You’re so busy controlling your own life that you don’t even notice the people around you anymore.”

“What?” you repeated again as Jungkook hoisted you up by your ass and began to walk, forcing you to grab him by the shoulders and stare down his right arm, the fully tattooed one with flowers and script and the tiny circle with angry slits for eyes and a frown on the inside of his elbow, the one Jungkook said was for you and you had slapped him in the chest and told him to shut up.

“Let me take over for once,” he mumbled, placing his chin on your shoulder and nudging you with his head and his non-crispy but still not quite soft dark hair.

“You said I would be an awful sub.”

Jungkook dumped you on the bed, shooing you upwards. You didn’t move, frowning at him. He sighed dramatically.

“You would. You are,” he corrected, planting a hand on your chest and pushing you down, bouncing you against your Pikachu bedsheets. He sandwiched your arms at your sides and straddled your torso. The bed bowed far too low and you almost slid off. Hurriedly, you scooted upwards and Jungkook followed, unbothered.

“You said I’m terrible with authority.”

Jungkook wrestled your arms back down and pinned them with his strong thighs. “You are.”

“You said I’m angry, twenty-four, seven.”

He cocked his head, slowly unbuttoning your pajama shirt. “Still true.”

“And you said I’m uptight,” you added ruefully, pouting.

Jungkook shrugged, reaching in between his legs to unbutton he last few ones. “I’ll fuck it out of you.”

“Jungkook!”

“What?”

He paused, towering above you, eyebrow raised. His black hair curled around his ears, against his silver hoops and base of his neck. His dark eyes pierced down at you, tiny mole under his lips clearly visible from this position. You could see the bottom of his sharp chin, the black t-shirt clinging to his chest, the shape of his tan arms, one tattooed, one not, from below.

“Y-you’re pinching my right arm…”

Jungkook looked down, moving his left leg. “Sorry.”

You winced, pulling out your left arm to rub the other. He tapped your forearm impatiently with his finger.

“You’re ruining the moment,” he scolded.

“You ruined it by bruising me,” you shot back, backing up to your pillows on your elbows, grimacing as you soothed your arm.

“I’m going to bruise you more if you keep being a little brat,” Jungkook growled, following you on hands and knees, the neckline of his t-shirt hanging down, revealing way too much of his skin. Your eyes widened and you slipped, a white plush Poro bonking you in the head. He grabbed it and tossed it aside, the poor guy rolling on the floor.

“That’s very rude,” you muttered, but he was over your body now, breathing hard, staring down your now open shirt and the curve of your breasts into your black bra.

“Why do you get hotter every year?”

You raised an eyebrow. “I… don’t?”

Jungkook shoved the sides of your pajama shirt apart impatiently, reaching under your back and pinching the bra clasp, undoing it with one hand.

“Yes, you do,” he exhaled hotly. “Every year you get prettier and prettier and it pisses me off so much that I have to work out to look half as good as you.”

You felt your ears and cheeks get hot. “Well… you do look very, erm, good.”

“You’re very convincing,” Jungkook chuckled darkly, pushing your bra up and sucking in his lower lip as he revealed your hard, quivering nipples.

Your eyes shifted away from his hungry eyes. “I, uh… am very wet.”

A single, perfectly shaped eyebrow ticked. “Show me.”

“Um…”

He lifted himself off you, pointing down.

“Show me,” Jungkook commanded.

You tried to move your arms and found them tangled in your clothes. You frowned and shrugged out of your pajama shirt, chucking it and your bra aside, before gripping the waistband of your green fleece pants. You hesitated and looked back at Jungkook, who just flapped his hand downwards, giving you a neutral expression.

You puffed your cheeks and raised your hips, yanking your pants and panties down your thighs. You had to bend your legs a bit to fully take them off since Jungkook’s knees were on the outside of your thighs.

Now you were fully naked in front of your childhood best friend. And he was still fully clothed.

“Er, aren’t you going to–”

Jungkook cut you off. “You still haven’t shown me.”

You blinked at him. “What do you want me to do, become a fucking pretzel?”

Jungkook shrugged. “Any way you can prove to me you’re wet.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Fucking…” You bent your right leg and slid it up between his thighs, brushing against his sweatpants and feeling his hard-on for a hot second before you jammed your leg into your chest and lifted it out, pressing your thigh against your torso and raising your calf into the air. You turned your head to the left, letting out an exasperated huff.

“There. You see it?”

Shit, this position was embarrassing for some reason. You could feel cold air on your dripping pussy. Maybe he couldn’t see or something. You lifted your right arm to wrap around your thigh, pressing it down against your breasts since Jungkook wasn’t saying anything.

“That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” Jungkook breathed.

“Okay, going to put my leg do–”

You gasped, suddenly feeling Jungkook’s fingertips touch your heated core, smearing your juices around the lips, his hot breath against your ear as he touched you. You shuddered as he stroked your folds, your name on his lips, his lips kissing your ear.

“Had to touch you,” he whispered against your neck, tone desperate. “I’m sorry, I just had to touch that beautiful pussy, all wet and slopping for me.”

Your eyelids fluttered as his middle finger found your clit, pressing on it. “J-Jungkook… That’s my…”

He chuckled deep in his throat. “Yeah? That’s your what?”

Slow, lazy circles, pushing it around, moan leaving your lips. “My c-clit…”

“Want me to touch it?” Jungkook purred. “Want me to handle your pleasure?”

But he as already touching it, nursing the sensitive bundle of nerves and rousing your lust, igniting it and setting it on fire.

“Y-yes…”

He kissed down your neck, whispering softly, licking your collarbones. “You trust me? You trust me with this pretty, perfect, hot, sexy, fuckable body?”

You arched your neck, giving him more access as he ran his pink lips all over, rubbing your clit, mouth on your throat. Your whole body shook, hips rolling into his finger.

“Y-yes…”

His breath so electrifying that you could barely focus, barely speak as Jungkook’s other hand came up behind your head, long fingers burying into your hair, holding tight, so tight it almost hurt, teeth nipping at your skin.

“Want to mark you,” he mumbled. “Want to give you a big fat hickey you can’t explain, want to bruise you so bad you’ll be staring at it for weeks, thinking about my lips on you, remembering my teeth gave you that.”

He pressed another finger to your clit, increasing the pace, and all you could do was hiss out a yes, a burning yes, a pleading yes, please, Jungkook, whining as his teeth sank into the spot where your shoulder and neck connected, sucking hard, his tongue licking away the prickling pain. His hips rolled into your thigh, his hard cock pressing against you, straining against his pants.

Jungkook moaned into your skin, so hot, so intense, rubbing your aching clit faster, harder, more urgently. Sucking and humping your leg as the feeling of his teeth and his fingers overwhelmed you, one hand clutching his shirt and one hand curled into your sheets as your thighs shook, trying to close but unable to because Jungkook was so strong, so there, so overpowering that you could only lay there and take it, take it as his name poured out of you in a breathless wail, throwing your head back as you felt your pussy clench around nothing, your juices becoming slicker, thicker, the scent of your orgasm staining the air.

He shoved the two fingers inside you and unlatched his mouth, moaning with you as he felt you squeeze his fingers, pumping you in long, slow strokes, all the way to his knuckles. You whimpered, tightening your core and Jungkook moaned again, eyes closed, his hair in disarray as you fucked his hand, clamping your hands on his right forearm, gasping at the feel of his muscle. Pussy throbbing around his fingers, hips meeting his knuckles over and over.

His eyes opened, watching your fuck yourself with his hand, an almost bored expression on his features, but you didn’t care because you felt him flex his fingers and his arm, telling you to continue, telling you he liked it.

“I thought you were going to let me do it.” Jungkook’s voice was low, trying to stay even despite his shallow breathing. “Have to control everything, don’t you?”

You caught your lower lip in your teeth, eyes moving to his face, his handsome, angular face with his black hair curled around his forehead and his cocked eyebrow, smirk on his lips.

“I’m not in control,” you panted. “Your forearm is…”

Jungkook flexed it under your hand and you moaned pathetically, breath hitching.

His smirk grew wider.

“It’s getting you off touching it.”

You swallowed, close, so close and Jungkook was taunting you and for some reason you couldn’t tell him to shut up, because he kept tensing his arm and it was so fucking hot that you really were going to orgasm.

“Say it,” he purred, breathing your name. “Tell me you like my forearm.”

Your eyes shifted down to his arm in your hands, the tiny angry face tattoo in his inner elbow frowning at you.

“I fucking love it, Jungkook,” you gasped. “Fuck, I love your delicious, sexy-as-fuck forearms.”

He grinned and began to thrust his fingers into you, fast, so fast you couldn’t even fathom how he could be that fast like a fucking vibrator, sending torrents of pleasure through you and his arm was so hard and his skin so soft that your eyes rolled back into your head, moaning his name far too loud. Jungkook placed a hand over your mouth and you screamed into it, liquid gushing down your thighs, but he didn’t stop, he kept going until you felt it again, pussy throbbing, back-to-back, eyelids fluttering, nails digging into his arm as the crescendo slammed into you, taking your breath and senses away, lost only in the feeling of Jungkook’s secure presence above you.

He slowed, breathing hard. Gently, carefully pulling his fingers out of your pulsating pussy, gasping as he removed his hand. You vaguely heard Jungkook place his fingers in his mouth, sighing wantonly at your taste.

“You taste so good,” he whispered around his fingers. “Fuck, so sweet and thick and delicious.”

Your brain could not compute what the fuck was happening. Did Jungkook just give you three mind-blowing orgasms in a row after you exploded at him and admitted to thinking about him while masturbating?

Holy shit.

He pressed his face into your hair, inhaling your scent.

You swallowed thickly.

“Jungkook, do you, ah… want something too?” you asked quietly.

You heard him snicker. “If I take my clothes off, I’m going to want to put my dick in you.”

“… I’m cool with that.”

“I thought a dildo was the same as a dick?”

You cleared your throat. “Ah… Well, I didn’t think you’d want to put a dick in me.”

Jungkook laughed. “If I had five dicks, I’d put them all in you.”

“Erm… mathematically speaking, that doesn’t really work…”

“Shut up.”

Jungkook sat up, looking down at you with a smile. The same smile he always had, but a little different now, because he didn’t have to hide his attraction to you anymore.

“You really let me put it in you?”

You narrowed your eyes. “With a ninety-eight percent chance, only.”

His smile became mischievous. “That’s not one hundred percent.”

You puffed your cheeks.

“I’ll take the two percent chance for you and only you, Jungkook.”

He grinned and turned around, throwing himself to the end of the bed where his jeans were barely holding on. Fishing through the pockets, retrieving the foil packet from the back pocket. You blinked at him.

“How long has that been–”

Jungkook gave you a silencing look. “I bring a new one every time I come over, in hopes you become drunk enough to sit on my dick.”

You blinked at him. “What.” Not a question, just you stating it.

“Because you’re paranoid.”

You frowned. “I’m not–”

He launched himself over the bed and silenced you with a kiss, deep and longing. You leaned into it, breathing softly, tongue against his, pressing back against him. Jungkook drew back slowly, thumb on your cheek. Eyes looking into yours, careful and tender.

“I don’t want you to worry,” he said against your lips. “I’ll do anything you want. I know it’s not easy for you. I know you’re not ready for the million babies I want from you.”

“I can’t have a million babies. It’s not scientifically possible,” you interjected.

Jungkook narrowed his eyes. “Can you just let me have one romantic moment?”

“Erm, sorry.”

“You want me to have a damn vasectomy or something? Because I’ll fucking do it. That shit’s reversible.”

“No, that kind of requires more time and I’m pretty horny for your dick right now. Condom will do.”

He sighed, rolling his eyes. “You are a shitty sub.”

“I will do better after I’ve had the dick.”

Jungkook straightened and yanked his black t-shirt over his head. “No, you won’t.”

Your eyes roamed over his toned chest. Damn, he was ripped. Maybe he was insecure about you being hot or something, but you were certainly benefiting. “You never know?”

Jungkook sent you a pained look and pressed a hand to your chest, shoving you back into your bed. “I’ve known you way too long to believe those words coming out of your mouth.”

You were going to reply, but he ran his hand over your chest, inhaling sharply as he brushed against your nipples. He ran his fingers over them, squeezing a little. You whined, trying to get more, but Jungkook pressed his palm down on your breast, breathing hard.

“Listen, woman, I’m about to explode in my damn underwear. Stop sounding so sexy this instant.”

Your eyes found his, pupils blown wide, lips pursed, and jaw tight. Your lips parted a little, tongue peeking out, a soft moan of his name emitting from your throat. You saw a muscle in his eyebrow twitch. He looked like he wanted to throttle you, at least a little bit.

You grinned.

Jungkook narrowed his eyes.

“You are lucky you’re cute,” he muttered. “And lucky I want to be in this pussy more than I want to be alive.”

“Don’t you ne–”

Jungkook planted his hand on your mouth. “The only words I want to hear out of you are, “Fuck me harder” or my own name, you got that?” he snarled, pressing his hand into your face for emphasis.

You nodded quickly.

He sighed, almost in relief, and yanked his pants and underwear down, wincing. There was a large wet spot on his boxer briefs, strings of pre-cum clinging as he pushed it down his muscular thighs.

“You made me a giant mess,” he muttered, eyes flickering up to you. “What do you have to say?”

You blinked at him and gave him a thumbs up.

He grinned. “You do know how to listen.”

In truth, you couldn’t say anything because you were breathlessly staring at Jungkook’s thick cock, red head glistening with pre-cum, dripping everywhere. You slid down quickly, startling him, and wrapped your lips around the head, moaning as his strong taste invaded your mouth. He hissed, gritting his teeth as your tongue swiped around, licking his length all over, feeling the veins and contours, memorizing them.

“F-fuck,” he gasped. “You wanted to clean me up that bad?”

Your eyes traveled up his abs, his pecs, his neck, to his face, giving him your best imploring look. He smirked, placing a hand on your forehead, and gradually, with great effort, pulled out of your tight mouth. Tight because you sucked in your cheeks, not wanting to let him go, but Jungkook was stronger than you. You frowned, but he shooed you away.

“I allowed it this one time. Now back to your spot.”

You backed up, tsking as you watched him roll down the condom, groaning as it covered him.

“I’m actually glad I have this fucking condom,” Jungkook muttered, glaring at you.

You couldn’t say anything, so you spread your legs. His eyes dropped down and he bit his lower lip, crawling to you, grabbing your thighs. Placing himself right in front of your soaked entrance, staring down at your pussy as he guided himself, sinking into you.

“Holy fuck,” he gasped, squeezing his eyes shut.

You moaned, feeling Jungkook’s cock stretch you out, so different from a silicone dildo or multiple fingers, because it was Jeon Jungkook praying for air as you clenched around his length, his cries of pleasure as he rocked his hips into you. Those long nights with your vibrator and his Instagram open on your phone were incomparable to his cock molding to your walls, his hard hips finally hitting your thighs, all the way in, and it was so good that you throbbed around him, shuddering.

“J-Jungkook…” you pleaded.

“I know,” he panted, hands gripping your knees tight. “I know, but give me a second to appreciate this pussy, holy fuck.”

He jerked his cock inside you and you cried out, definitely crushing your sheets, but Pikachu had seen a lot by now and there was only going to be more.

Jungkook finally began to slide out and push back in, groaning, starting slow and deep because quite frankly he needed to last more than five seconds and your pussy was not letting up. You had too much control over your vaginal muscles and he was too into you to not be hugely turned on by it, shoving your legs up higher so he could go deeper, feel more of you surround him and massage his length.

“H-harder…” you whimpered. “Please, Jungkook, fuck me harder…”

And how could Jungkook say no to that? Begging so perfectly, with just the right amount of desperation, and you didn’t even know it was driving him insane, because he knew normally you were so wound up, always worrying about being perfect, always worrying about doing the right thing, but now you were unraveling on his cock as he bent down and put more force into it, pounded you harder, watching the ecstasy in your eyes, your mouth opening and tongue peeking out, hot breath in his face. Knuckles white as you clutched the sheets, pleasure radiating up his length as you came with a cry, his name, his name on those perfect lips, lips he always watched with envy, wondering who had them, wondering who was so lucky to capture them.

And now it was just him, just him and you, and his hips slapping into your hips, pussy nearly choking his cock, but it felt so good, so fucking euphoric as you fucked him back, raising your hips to meet his, loud, wet, and lewd, probably causing a ruckus next door. But neither of you cared, your names mixing together, your eyes staring to Jungkook’s piercing brown ones, hot pleasure radiating up your stomach, your chest, to your head and there was no one else.

No one else but Jungkook’s name tumbling out of your mouth as the wave soared into you, pussy spasming as you came again, unsure at what number it was, but it was the one Jungkook wasn’t prepared for and he groaned, smacking into you one last time before you felt his cock throb and pulse against your walls, spilling into the condom. You gasped at the feeling, clenching around him, his right hand reaching over to grasp yours and hold it tightly, intertwining your fingers.

“W-wow…” you whispered breathlessly. “Nice cock.”

Jungkook burst out laughing. “You’re unbelievable.” He reached down and gingerly felt around in your dripping folds, finding the end of the condom and pulling out carefully.

“Fuck. It’s so much,” he gulped, brows knitted in worry.

You waved a hand. “It’s fine. I finished my period yesterday. Likelihood of you getting me pregnant is pretty low.”

Jungkook jerked his head towards you.

“Why the fuck didn’t you say that sooner?” he roared, slapping your leg. “I was scared shitless over here!”

You placed your hands over your ears. “So loud. Shut up, Jungkook.”

“No!”

--

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #bts smut

[lexosaurus]

Invisobang: Morge pt 2

It was a beautiful day outside. The birds were singing, the flowers were blooming...a corpse was found in the woods.

Or, Amity Park's local cadaver dog trainer was walking her dog in the woods when they discovered a little surprise waiting for them six feet under.

Pairings: none WC: 9886 read on: [ao3] part 2 of 2, read: [part 1]

---

some amazing accompanying art by @ghostkiin

---

“It’s like you’re not even trying!” Plasmius barked, throwing Danny an exaggerated yawn while blocking the ectoblasts thrown his way. “Really, Daniel, you were always woefully incapable compared to me, but this is just abysmal, even for you.”

Danny gritted his teeth and glared back, allowing his glowing eyes to glare to toxic levels. Plasmius picked the wrong week to try to steal blueprints from Fentonworks.

“What, are you going to hit me with a little ectoblast again?”

“Oh I’ll show you an ectoblast,” Danny growled, charging ectoplasm in his palms so concentrated that the green glowed a fierce white. He flung his hands out, releasing the energy with a venomous, “eat shit, Fruitloop!”

But just like the rest of his life, his attack was uncontrolled, wild. It flew several feet to Vlad’s side, nailing a road sign and burning it like acid until there was nothing left.

Plasmius grinned at its charred remains. “Was that supposed to hit me? My, Daniel, I’m quaking in my boots!”

Danny felt his aura increase.

This week had already been shitty enough, even without Vlad’s help. He felt like his brain was trapped in a hailstorm, with constant unavoidable attacks pelting him from all sides. His core was a ball of energy and anxiety, not allowing him to sleep or eat or even breathe without the constant fear about his body and how it was being messed with and he needed to protect it and how he’d failed so miserably at protecting it and now his secret was going to be revealed and he was screwed.

“Well? I’m waiting! Tick tock, Little Badger!”

Ancients, Vlad was such an asshole.

“Shut UP!” Danny yelled, releasing his ghostly wail.

Just as a pink blast slapped him across the face, sending him flying into a brick building.

Plasmius tisked, flying nonchalantly towards him. “We can’t have you using that particular power, now can we? Not while you’re so obviously in control of yourself.”

“Fuck off.”

The older ghost smirked and brushed dust off his red and white cape. “Teenagers. Always so hormonal. What, did a girl at school reject you?”

“What are you talking about?” Danny launched himself back in the air and powered an ice blast. “You know what? Don’t answer that. I don’t care what you have to say.”

“No, I’m sure you don’t,” Vlad said, releasing a plasmius blast just before Danny released his own. The pink blast travelled across the air like a bullet, punching Danny in the gut and sending him crashing back into the building.

Meanwhile, Danny’s ice blast flew a foot above Vlad’s head, webbing itself into a tree and coating the branches with thick icicles.

Danny tried to push himself back onto his shaky feet, only to be pushed back down yet again by another plasmius blast.

Brick tumbled onto his head, coating his vision with dust. His body ached, and his neck was sore from the whiplash.

From his clouded vision, a glowing white figure with red eyes and gaudy horn-like spikes for hair hovered closer to him.

“My, my. You really are out of sorts today,” Plasmius said. “This is almost too easy. I could just take you out right here and go take your parents’ entire spectre speeder straight from your lab.

“What do you even need a spectre speeder for? You can fly,” Danny asked, rubbing a lump from his skull.

“A simple minded teenager such as yourself couldn’t possibly understand my reasons.”

Anger flared through Danny. He gripped some wreckage next to him and forced himself back onto his feet. His legs shook and he felt something wet drip down his calf.

Great, he was bleeding. Just add that to the list of reasons as to why this week was the worst.

“Shut up. I won’t let you do that.”

“Oh?” Plasmius powered a pink blast in each hand. “Then prove it.”

Danny tried, but with each attempted blast, kick, or punch, it seemed like Plasmius was one step ahead of him.

And worse, it felt like he was reveling in the power trip.

A burn here, a kick there—everywhere Danny looked, there was Vlad, glowing fist at the ready. It reminded him of the first time he’d encountered Vlad, back at the mansion. Having Vlad so openly destroy him had been shameful.

Danny collapsed onto the pavement, heaving, his entire body searing in pain.

Plasmius paused to survey him up and down with suspicious eyes. Finally, just as Danny was one breath away from turning invisible out of sheer discomfort, did the ghost finally open his mouth. “Alright, spit it out.”

Anxiety gripped Danny’s stomach. “What are you talking about?”

“Something’s troubling you enough to make you pathetically weak. It’s honestly embarrassing. I can’t stand here watching my future ward make a fool of himself any longer.”

“I’m not moving in with you, creep,” Danny bit back.

“That’s what you think. No matter, tell your dear old uncle what’s troubling you.”

“Go play in traffic.”

Plasmius’ eyes narrowed. “I’d nearly forgotten what a brat you are. Now tell me before I take methods into my own hands.”

Danny sighed, and attempted to stand. But the moment his foot touched the ground, a sharp pain shot up his shin. He hissed, and lowered himself back to the pavement.

“Well? I don’t have all day.”

“It’s nothing,” Danny grumbled, glaring at the pavement. He felt small under Plasmius’ critical gaze. “Nothing at all.”

“It’s obviously something,” Plasmius said, landing in front of Danny. “Now quit wasting my time and tell me what it is before I—”

“Then why don’t you leave? If I’m just wasting your precious time, then go home! It’s not like you even care about me anyways.”

Vlad leaned in, flaring his aura. “In case it’s not clear to your simple teenage brain, your actions represent the both of us. You fuck up, I have to pay the consequences.”

“Who says this is even about ghost stuff?” Danny hissed. “For all you know, I got in a fight with Jazz.”

Vlad scoffed. “Do you seriously believe me to be that stupid? Of course it’s about your identity! Why else would your core be acting so wildly if its Obsession weren’t at stake?”

Danny flinched.

“You did something, and I want to know what it is so I can determine if I need to run damage control on you or not before you blow this for all of us.”

“It’s...” Danny felt his aura pull back. “It’s about...you know…”

“I can assure you I do not know.”

“I...I might have…the police may have found...it…’

Plasmius sighed and rubbed his forehead with his hand. “What did they find?”

“My—my, uh...body?”

“You mean your identity?” Plasmius’ eyes widened.

“Not exactly.” Danny felt his face burn. “You know...the body I left when I...after the accident.”

Plasmius reacted instantly. He shot up, glancing around, before grabbing Danny and pulling him through a hastily erected portal.

Danny felt his body squeeze through the portal and then seconds later, he was in Vlad’s study. The ghost threw Danny on his loveseat and heightened his aura. His brows creased, and his eyes glowed a dangerous shade of red. “What exactly do you mean when you say the police found your deceased body? How did this happen? What the hell did you do?”

“It wasn’t my fault!” Danny cried indignantly. “They found it with their freakish police dog! I swear I buried it deep in the ground.”

“Well not deep enough, apparently!” Vlad pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Of all the stupid, childish things you could do!”

“It wasn’t my fault!”

Vlad ripped his hands away from his face, his eyes snapping back to Danny. He took a step closer to the teen, his eyes narrowing until a red glow peaked underneath. “Then whose fault would it be exactly, hmm? What, is this yet another piece of blame you’re going to cast upon my shoulders? Me, the halfa who has managed to keep this a well kept secret for over twenty years when you apparently can’t even manage to keep it to yourself for one?”

Danny let his own ghostly strength shine through his eyes. “Quit acting like I invited them all over. I didn’t, it was a coincidence. A mistake.”

“Oh, goodness me!” Vlad let out a sardonic laugh. “I guess when the Ghost Investigative Ward appear at my doorstep in a month, I’ll just tell them it was all a mistake. That’s sure to turn them right around!”

“Shut up.”

“No I will not.” Vlad’s face set back into a scowl. “You have proven yourself to be a liability again and again, and every single time it’s me who has to clean up your little messes. Messes that you don’t seem to realize could be the end of our kind!”

Anxiety shot through Danny’s stomach. He gripped the arm rests of the chair, squeezing them so tightly he heard the faint sounds of cracking in the wood.

“And now you mean to tell me that the police have your rotting, ectoplasm-drenched inhuman corpse in their possession?” Vlad yelled. “And you’re really trying to argue with me that it was just a simple mistake?”

Danny’s shaking hand slipped, tearing off a chunk of the armchair. It clattering to the floor. “I don’t—I didn’t mean for this to happen. I don’t…”

Vlad closed his eyes, but Danny could still see the wisps of red shimmering through his eyelids. “No, of course you didn’t. But that doesn’t mean we can let them keep it.”

“I’ve tried.” His voice cracked. “I keep trying to convince them to stop, but they won’t—”

“What, you actually thought they’d listen to you? A ghost? My boy, I know you were dim, but this is truly extraordinary.”

Danny sniffed, keeping his head down. He felt like an egg boiling over, the yolk just one jolt away from breaking.

“No…” Plasmius hummed. “What we need is to take it back by force.”

“We can’t, they have the whole morgue under a shield. We can get in as ghosts, and it’d look too suspicious if we showed up as humans.”

“Unfortunately, you may be right about us appearing as humans. We can’t do that. But,” Plasmius’ tone shifted, “one thing we can do is break the shield.”

Danny froze. He gazed questioningly up at the older ghost, who was facing the window with a renewed sense of determination. “Break the shield? How? We can’t touch it!”

“No, but the shield doesn’t exist on its own. It has to be generated from somewhere, doesn’t it? Do you see? We break the device, we break the shield.”

Danny wasn’t following, and he was sure his face betrayed that much.

“Listen, Little Badger. Ghosts cannot touch the shield or the device, but who says—oh I don’t know—maybe a collapsed ceiling might do the trick? Some torn cables, perhaps? After all, with no energy supply, how could it possibly generate the power necessary to produce a shield?”

Danny felt his eyes widen. Something icy settled in his gut. When he spoke, his voice was hollow. “You want to destroy the building.”

“Well I certainly wouldn’t be so crude, but perhaps a few colleagues of mine might be swayed—”

“No.” Danny stood automatically.

Vlad’s head snapped over to him. “No?”

He could feel Vlad’s confusion, and it blended with his own. Deep down, he knew he needed to stop at nothing to get his body back, but collapsing the building? Putting others in danger?

Putting his remains in danger of ruin?

What if something happened? What if a brick fell on his skull? What if a spike tore his abdomen in half?

No, he couldn’t do it. It wasn’t worth the risk.

This was wrong.

“We can’t,” Danny choked out. “You’ll hurt it.”

“I don’t think you understand, Little Badger,” Vlad hissed, leaning down.

Danny could feel the heat of his red eyes on his skull.

“With the position you’ve put us both in? You don’t get to decide what happens to your corpse now.”

“No, Vlad. I’m serious. You can’t—”

“And so am I.” Plasmius straightened, and his aura tinted to a dangerous pink. “You’ve put us at risk one time too many. Now I’m taking things into my own hands. And no amount of scary eyes is going to sway me.”

In one motion, Vlad ripped open a portal and pushed Danny through. Before he could blink, he was back in the damp alley they’d just been in.

“Good day, Danny Phantom.”

Plasmius shut the portal, and Danny was alone.

---

“Thank you for taking the time to come talk to us about this,” Mark said, opening the conference room door for the consultant before him. “This case is unfortunately a bit out of my expertise, and the lab results are even more perplexing. Hopefully you’ll be able to parse through the documents much easier than I.”

Dr. Maddie Fenton, dressed in her typical turquoise lab attire, stepped through the door and took a seat at the table. “Of course, I’m always happy to help Amity’s law enforcement protect its citizens against ghosts.”

“Well,” Mark pulled out a chair for himself, placing the manila folders against the table. “This is actually a bit more complex.”

“Oh?” Dr. Fenton reached for the folders.

“To bring you up to speed, I mentioned on the phone that we needed your assistance with a murder case involving a ghost. But there’s a bit more to it.”

She opened the folder and leafed through the files.

“The truth is the body we uncovered we believe to be Phantom’s body.”

Dr. Fenton paused, her eyebrows shooting up. She glanced up at Mark. “That’s a rather serious case. What evidence do you have to support that?”

“Well…” Mark started. “When we uncovered the body, Phantom appeared above it, and was acting rather erratically. Like a cornered animal, almost.”

“He felt threatened.”

“Right.” He nodded. “But it’s more than that. When we ran forensics on the body, we found that all our lab results were corrupted with ectoplasm. Ectoplasm that when we ran the ectosignature for, turned out to be Phantom’s.”

Dr. Fenton looked back down at the files. “That’s highly unusual.”

“Well we were hoping you’d be able to piece this all together.” Mark gestured to the files.

“I see…” Dr. Fenton’s voice trailed off. Her eyes scanned the page, hungrily soaking up each word. The silence stretched on for a few minutes as Mark awaited her opinion.

Contacting the Fentons had been something Mark had been pushing off for as long as possible. The Fentons were loud, boisterous, and not at all known for their professionalism nor tact.

But it was either they contact the Fentons or the Ghost Investigation Ward. And despite Phantom’s cold demeanor towards the detectives, Mark still had hope that perhaps he could gain the teen ghost’s trust. And to do that, the GiW could not be anywhere near the station.

Of the duo, Maddie Fenton seemed the most level-headed. And it had just been Mark’s luck that of the pair, she was the one with a doctorate in ectobiology. Which meant that it was perfectly understandable when Mark had requested that she alone come into the station to review the files.

“We’re trying to keep this on the down-low. If Phantom feels like we’re going to turn him over to the government, he’ll clam up. As it stands we’re only barely getting information out of him.”

“Well, I wouldn’t trust anything he says anyway,” she said, not looking up from the paper. “He’ll do whatever possible to keep himself safe. Ghosts are products of their Obsessions, and Phantom is no different. If he feels like this investigation is going to come in the way of him being able to feed into his Obsession, then he’ll do anything to stop that from happening. No matter who he hurts in the process.”

Mark felt a shudder creep up his spine. “Do you think he could be lying about this being his body? Maybe he could have been the one to kill this boy and is trying to cover it up?”

“Hmm…no, that doesn’t seem likely given the labs. And besides, it would be highly unusual for Phantom to be summoned to a body that wasn’t his. Although…” Dr. Fenton mused. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like this before.”

“Like what?”

“Well, when an animal dies near a cluster of ambient ectoplasm, their body runs the risk of forming a ghost. However, there must be a significant final moment for the neural pathways in the brain to bond with the ectoplasm. That moment translates into an Obsession, which forms the core that the ghost then forms around. If a human dies peacefully, there’s nothing to work with. But if the human dies violently, or if they die with unfinished business, that gives the ambient ectoplasm something to charge with.”

Mark nodded politely, not seeing where this was going. This was all common knowledge for the people of Amity, and Mark had certainly seen enough of the Fentons’ public speeches to understand these basics.

“The ambient ectoplasm comes from the electrical connections in the brain, unrelated to what’s happening in the body. It’s why a human can be paralyzed from the waist-down, but still form a ghost with functioning legs. Do you see what I’m saying?”

Mark nodded, then shook his head. “I’m sorry, I’m not seeing how this relates to Phantom specifically?”

“There’s no real reason that Phantom’s human body should have been corrupted by ectoplasm. In fact, there’s never been a case of a human body with an ectosignature embedded in its cells. It’s virtually impossible, in fact. Living cells are completely incompatible with ectoplasm.”

Mark stared down at his own copy of the reports, his mind reeling. “You’ve never seen this before?”

“Not in my twenty years in this field.”

“Do you have any idea what could have caused this?”

Dr. Fenton pursed her lips. “There’s one...it would explain a lot about him actually. Human experimentation.”

Oh.

Oh.

Shit.

“You don’t think…” Mark’s voice trailed off, his tongue incapable of finishing the sentence. To think that some sick individual would even attempt such a thing.

“It’s the only logical explanation here.” Dr. Fenton gestured at her folder. “Or at least, the only one I can piece together given this information. Phantom would have had to have died after interacting with an intense amount of ecto-technology. Technology with the power to chemically alter every cell in his living body just before finishing him off with electrocution. Of course, it’s just a theory. Only Phantom knows the truth.”

“Right.” He could hardly process what was being said. “But he won’t tell us the truth.”

“Well, I’m not surprised. Ghosts run a different social hierarchy than humans, theirs is far more simple. It’s entirely based on strength. The stronger the ghost, the better they protect their haunt, the more respect they’re given within ghost culture. If Phantom shows weakness, then the other ghosts can use that to dethrone him as the human world’s great protector.”

“But we’re not ghosts.”

“But he is.” Dr. Fenton cocked her head. “This explains other things too. Like the fact that Phantom, a relatively new ghost, is already a level seven on the ectoplasm power scale.”

“I assume that’s unusual.”

“Quite. It would have had to require an extremely intense death at the very least. But human experimentation with ectoplasm, feelling your body reject itself from the inside out, every strand of DNA being corrupted by the essence of death—that’s not an end I’d wish on my worst enemies.”

“And now we have his corpse. Phantom’s going to feel incredibly threatened. He’s bound to lash out.”

Dr. Fenton nodded gravely. “Then you better wrap this investigation up quickly, because Phantom is still a young ghost. He’s impatient, like a child. The longer you take to solve this case, the more unstable he’ll get. And I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end when he finally snaps.”

---

A dull unease panged at Danny’s core. It was calling to him, trying to goad him to his corpse.

Trouble, trouble, trouble, it seemed to whisper.

But he ignored it, just like he’d been ignoring it all this time. Because no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t get past the shields, he couldn’t get back to his corpse.

He was powerless. Alone.

Scared.

He tried to focus on his math worksheet, but the numbers blurred together and he couldn’t remember what eight times seven was. He had a calculator, but it was in his bag and he couldn’t remember what pocket he’d shoved it into, or even if he’d remembered to put it in his bag last night after staring blankly at the homework assignment for an hour without lifting his pencil even once.

No, his calculator was probably still on his desk at home.

Trouble, trouble, trouble.

The voices were louder now, and the pull was more desperate.

His throat hurt, and for a moment he was convinced his lungs were collapsing before he remembered that he’d forgotten to release the air trapped in his lungs and he couldn’t remember when he’d stopped breathing.

“Danny?” Mr. Falluca said from the front of the room. “Is everything alright?”

He commanded his head to nod, but he wasn’t sure if he succeeded. Maybe he did. He couldn’t check, he couldn’t lift his eyes from the desk.

The voices were too loud.

The dull pang wasn’t so dull anymore.

Trouble, trouble, go now, go now.

The pang was solidifying, taking shape. It was becoming sharper, more urgent.

Go now, go now, go now.

The pokes turned into pricks, threatening to rupture his organs, sending needles down the nerves in his arms and legs. A headache sparked before his eyes and his vision swam.

The voices attacked him from all angles, and fingers brushed against his skin, tugging the sleeves of his shirt towards the window, the ceiling, the wall, the door— anywhere so long as it was away from here. Outside. To the morgue.

Go to the morgue.

Ignore it, be strong. Just ignore it and it’ll go away.

Go now.

No.

Go now, go now, GO NOW.

No, he couldn’t.

The pinpricks finally morphed into one sharp, icy cold knife.

It stabbed his core.

Go now.

He stood from his chair, knocking it back.

Vaguely, he could hear the alarmed cries of his classmates, but he ignored them.

The only thing that mattered was his body. His corpse.

Protect.

A hand grabbed his arm, yanking him back, but he could feel the warmth of the human blood running under its veins and he couldn’t be bothered with human problems right now. Not when he was in danger.

He phased through the grip, and ran out of the classroom. He sprinted down the hall, tearing open the familiar looking door and transforming and taking off into the sky nearly as soon as the sun brushed his skin.

This was different than all the other times his core had tried to coax him to his corpse. Something was wrong. Really, really wrong. His body was in danger, and he needed to save it.

He heard an explosion in the distance, and he increased his speed, feeling his eyes sting as the cool air slapped against his corneas. The world blurred, but it was okay. His core was guiding him now, not his eyes. He didn’t need to see, he just needed to close off and follow his ghostly instincts.

“That’s right!” A deep voice yelled from across the way.

Danny pulled to a halt, blinking the sting from his vision.

Then a boulder flew past his body, hitting the wall of a disturbingly familiar building.

His core yelled in protest. The body was in danger. His body.

“You thought a pesky shield could keep me out? Me, Skulker, the Ghost Zone’s greatest hunter? I’ll show you!”

Ice filled his veins, freezing his aura and building in power around his hands.

Skulker hoisted a parked motorcycle from the edge of the street into the air. “Take this!” he yelled, hurling it into the air.

It was heading straight for the door. It was going to break it, it might break the window, it could damage the body.

An icicle stabbed his core, and before Danny could blink, his hands were raised and jagged blue ice was shooting from his palms, catching the motorcycle in midair and pinning it to the street.

“What is the meaning of this?” Skulker roared, whipping around. His eyes locked on Danny and his confusion melted from this face only to be replaced by a triumphant smirk. “Well hello there, ghost child.”

Danny’s palms burned an even brighter blue. “ Leave,” he hissed, the Ghost Speak slipping off his tongue like butter.

Skulker’s grin widened. “It seems I’ve touched a nerve. Fear not, child, I’m just here to procure your pelt. Well, your other pelt.”

He flashed his aura in a showcase of power that would send most ghosts running for the hills. “Leave.”

A look of contempt replaced the humor on Skulker’s face. His eyes narrowed, and his voice lowered. “I don’t take orders from you, child.”

There was a natural balancing act between his human brain and ghost core, one that ensured that neither half of him was in full control one hundred percent of the time. No matter how human he was, his core still lingered in the background, and no matter how ghost he was, his human brain still kept tabs on his movements.

But now, as Danny watched Skulker rip a slab of concrete from the ground, he felt something snap inside of him.

“Then I have no choice.”

Green overtook his vision, and Danny Fenton simply disappeared.

Time passed—or it didn’t—in swirls of blue and green. If he looked out, he could see the power released from his gloves, he could see the mix of ectoplasm and ice that he was hurling at Skulker, to protect the building, to protect his body, to protect himself from Plasmius.

That vindictive, lonely asshole.

Who was Plasmius to encroach on what was his?

There were flashing lights around him, but Danny paid them no mind. The only thing that mattered was protecting his body.

Protect his haunt.

Protect his people.

Protect.

He could feel the newly pointed teeth pinch his gums, and the ghostly wisps of his hair fizzle around him. But oddly these changes didn’t worry him, instead they made him feel safe, secure. Like a child clinging onto their blanket.

He launched another barrage of attacks at Skulker, tearing holes through his armor. Panic struck Skulker’s features, and all Danny could think of was, ‘good.’ If Skulker wanted to try to claim dominance over his body, then he would suffer tenfold.

And just before he was about to launch a blast at Skulker that was sure to disintegrate his armor, an amplified voice behind him called out, “PHANTOM!”

Danny flinched, his power leaking out of its concentrated ball.

Weak.

“Phantom, stand down!”

Not a chance.

“We have the area surrounded. Stand down or we’ll be forced to shoot.”

“Better listen to your human puppets,” Skulker said, his voice too shaken to sound mocking. “I know when I’ve been bested.”

It took everything in Danny’s power to not launch himself over to Skulker and tear off his head. “You tried to steal my body.”

“That’s a fight between you and Plasmius.”

“Don’t try to get out of this.”

“Phantom,” Detective Johnson said. “Final warning. Stand down.”

Ectoplasm surged throughout his body. “Make me.”

Multiple events happened at once. Skulker motioned to leave just as Danny raised his arms, blistering white light moments away from release. Then, pain seared through his torso.

Danny yelped, jerking his hand back and releasing the ectoblast somewhere off into the sky. He fell back and hit the ecto-shield, sending electrical warnings through his bones.

Memories of the portal, of the thousands of volts of electricity, of the feeling of his bones and muscles and tissues and cells being ripped apart and stitched back together flashed before his eyes. It was too much, all too much too soon too present. He tried blasting the portal but his gloves were splattered with green and oh no, not good, not good.

He was dying, wasn’t he?

Again.

Would he have a second body?

His vision tilted, and finally he managed to rip himself away from the shield. He collapsed onto the cement and stared up at the sky, chest heaving.

He was paralyzed. He knew he had fingers, toes, arms, legs—but they didn’t work. He couldn’t feel anything. Couldn’t fly.

He was dying.

“Phantom?” Johnson’s cautious voice sounded from somewhere off to the side. “Sit up, let’s talk through this.”

There was a pregnant pause, and then Danny finally managed to blink. The world snapped back into focus, and his surroundings came with it. He looked down at his torso to see a little hole in his side of his suit surrounded by a trickle of green.

“What—?” Danny gasped.

“I’m gonna put the gun down, okay?” Johnson said. “I just wanna talk.”

“No.” Danny slowly pushed himself up. He surveyed the damage along the walls, the falling bricks on the sidewalk, the shattered windows and bent door. “No, no, no.”

His body wasn’t safe. Not anymore.

“Phantom, come on. Work with me here.”

But he couldn’t. That detective and his partner were just human, they didn’t understand. This was his body and Vlad knew about it and was trying to take matters into his own hands no matter the cost to Danny.

This was a disaster. He shouldn’t have told Vlad anything. He was so stupid for thinking Vlad could help him. He should have known, should have known.

“Phantom.”

“No.”

The cloak of invisibility covered his body, and he shot up into the sky.

Towards the city.

He needed to end this.

---

Sarah felt the chill first.

“You have to stop,” Phantom’s voice echoed behind her.

She sighed and put down her pencil. “Phantom, I thought I explained this already. The police can’t—”

“I don’t care about the police!”

The room grew cold.

“I don’t...ugh!” Phantom floated around her desk, clutching his forehead with one hand and his chest with the other. Mark had just called her with a warning, saying that Phantom was unstable. Looking at the ghost now, Sarah had to agree.

Phantom looked awful.

Dark circles pooled under his eyes, his hair stuck up in all directions, and his face lacked the green blush that normally sat below his skin. His jumpsuit was burned and dried ectoplasm crusted around the torn edges. He looked every bit the image of someone quickly coming undone.

Except this wasn’t just some random person, this was a powerful ghost. This was someone who could easily kill anyone who wronged him.

Or who he felt wronged him.

Deep down, Sarah knew Phantom wasn’t a violent ghost. It didn’t line up with his ghostly Obsession, or the theorized one anyway. But this was his corpse they were dealing with, it was an extension of himself.

Sarah had never confronted a ghost who had lost possession of their corpse. She’d never dealt with a ghost who willingly protected the shield that kept him away from his body if only to make sure it stayed safe. She’d never seen Phantom look so rattled.

At this point, there was no telling what he was capable of.

“Phantom,” she tried cautiously. “You need to calm down.”

“No, you need to tell your buddies to call off this investigation!”

“You know I can’t do that. I have no control over the department, and even if I did, we need to follow the law.”

His eyes flashed dangerously. “Why, because I’m a ghost? Because my words mean nothing because I’m not human? I’m telling you that I don’t want to press any charges, I don’t get why that’s not good enough!”

The room grew even colder.

“We’ve been over this. Please, Phantom, sit down—”

“No!” he snapped. “I’ve been telling you guys since the beginning that this was a bad idea, that people are going to get hurt! And no, nobody listened to me because I’m a fucking ghost! And now look, the building was attacked! My body was attacked! Do you—” his voice cracked, and the glow on his eyes wobbled. He drifted closer to her. “Do you even understand? Do you get how dangerous this is? Do you understand the people you guys have pissed off? Who you’re playing with now?”

Sarah took a deep breath. Even as a human, the power Phantom was emitting was palpable. “What people? You mean the ghost who attacked the morgue?”

“Not him. He—he’s just a lacky. Just following orders.” He let out a bitter laugh, running his hand over his forehead and smearing green across his skin. “You guys have no idea, you really don’t…”

Dread crept up Sarah’s spine. If what Mark was saying was true, then this could run deeper than they thought. “Explain it to me.”

“I’m…” He glanced up, looking ill. “I’m not…normal. For a ghost, I mean. I can’t explain it. I really can’t. But the other ghosts...they consider me a liability. And now that you guys have my—my body, they’re afraid.”

“Why are they afraid?”

“Because…” His brow furrowed. “I can’t—I can’t…”

She tilted her head, watching the ghost choke on his words. “Can’t, or won’t?”

“It doesn’t matter. They’ll stop at nothing till they get my body back. They’ll kill everyone in that building if it means nobody finds out my secret.”

What secret? Sarah wanted to scream, but she held back.

“Phantom,” Sarah lowered her tone. “Are they the reason you’ve been so afraid of us finding out the truth? Have they threatened you in any way?”

“No!” He backed up in shock. “I—I mean, sort of? Listen, it’s not because of him—them, I promise. It’s more complicated than that. He’s just protecting me, you know? If my secret gets out, that would put them all in danger, but it would put me in even more danger. I wouldn’t...I’d have to leave. I’d be on the run.”

“Why?”

“It’s so messed up.”

“Then tell me.”

She already knew. She just needed him to confirm it for her.

He looked to her, his bright green eyes seemingly desperate for help. But he shook his head. “I can’t do this.”

“Wait—”

But he was already gone.

---

“I’ve never seen him look so scared,” Abrams said.

“So you think he’s right.” Crowley took a long swig of his coffee, “Course you do.”

“It makes sense,” Abrams insisted. “Why else would Phantom be so terrified of people finding the truth?”

“Oh gee, I don’t know, maybe it’s because he’s a teen who was playing with electrical equipment he wasn’t supposed to be near and even in death doesn’t want to get in trouble for it!”

“Yes but how would that explain all the ectoplasm in his DNA? That doesn’t come from just any electric shock.”

“Who knows,” Crowley said. “The Fentons have always been crackpots. Always have had ludicrous theories. Now suddenly when it’s convenient, you’re all running to their side?”

Mark rolled his eyes. “We’re not running to their side.”

“Then what do you call this?” Crowley gestured to the duo. “Sure looks like it to me.”

“You have to admit that it makes sense,” Mark said. “I mean, get real. Doesn’t any of this smell fishy to you?”

Crowley slapped his empty coffee mug on the table. “You know what smells fishy to me? The Fentons are the only known ecto-scientists in this whole damn city, the only people who have lab-grade ecto-equipment in Amity Park, and suddenly right when they were getting into some financial trouble, Phantom appears out of nowhere from a death that reeks of forced ecto-contamination. That smells fishy to me.”

Mark paused, but then shook his head. “If that were true, then why would Dr. Fenton even offer human experimentation as a possibility?”

“To gloat? Gain our trust? Test our intelligence?” Crowley threw his hands up. “Who knows? They’re crazy!”

“So you think we need to investigate them?” Mark asked.

“I’d be a damn shit detective if I didn’t. They have the means and motive to create a ghost like Phantom. It’s just like Maddie said.”

“I think he’s right,” Abrams said, nibbling on her bagel. “If this is actually a case of ecto-experimentation, then the Fentons should be on the list of suspects.”

“Finally, some common sense around here. Just about the only case of common sense these days…” Crowley grumbled.

Mark chose to ignore that comment, instead checking his phone. No notifications, damn. The entire department had been on high alert for Phantom ever since the attack on the morgue. Mark was just relieved that the new and improved ecto-guns had finally been issued that morning. If not for the updated technology, that incident likely would have ended far less smoothly.

Not that it really ended smoothly. Phantom had yet again escaped Mark’s clutches, free to run off and break into Sarah’s home.

Guilt clawed at Mark’s stomach, but he pushed it back. Phantom was a slippery ghost, one that had escaped all levels of ghost hunters from the Fentons, to the Ghost Investigation Ward. Mark knew it would take a lot more than a few words of peace and one ecto-gun to stop that kind of raw power.

“What do we even know about the Fentons?” Abrams asked.

“They’re ghost hunters and mostly make weapons now, but before that they dabbled in all sorts of ecto-based technology. The husband, Jack, is the engineer and the wife, Maddie, is the biologist. They have two kids, Jasmine and Daniel. Jasmine, or ‘Jazz’ is supposedly top of her class, likely to graduate valedictorian, while Daniel’s something else. Bad grades, skips class, all around a bit of a loner,” Crowley said, regurgitating information like he was reading a case file.

Mark glanced at his colleague, giving him an impressed smirk. “Did your homework early, eh?”

“I told you, something aint right here,” Crowley said.

“And? What do you think?” Mark asked.

“What I think is that I’m shocked their house is even coded to have a lab inside. I’d like to know whose ass they kissed to give them that permit.”

Abrams snorted. “Jesus, Jacob.”

“What? I’m right!”

“Fine, whatever,” Mark stood, collecting his empty coffee cup and paper plate. “I godda head home, my sister’s visiting this weekend.”

“Alright, tell Susan I said hello. And say hi to her little demon child too.”

Mark rolled his eyes. “She’s four.”

“What, four year olds can’t be demons? I should know, I had two of them.”

Abrams swiped her empty wrapper and tossed it in the trash. “Yeah, I have to feed Atlas. I’ll see you both next week.”

“Take care!”

---

“Well at least we know Phantom didn’t change anything about his facial structure when he became a ghost.” Crowley’s small eyes swiveled between the photo of Phantom in one hand and the new sketch rendition of his human identity.

Mark grunted and stared at his own copy of the photo.

The corpse had been too decomposed to be able to distinguish a face, and ghosts often change their appearance in death. Sure, Phantom looked like a regular human, but it was impossible to know that for a fact.

Fortunately, modern research and re-composition was advanced enough that they didn’t have to wonder for long. Especially with this being such a high-profile case for the city.

And as it turned out, aside from the hair, Phantom really didn’t look all too different when he was alive. He had the same sharp nose, the same angular chin, the same boyish face. The only thing that was different was his hair and presumably his eye color, although that was still a mystery due to the corrupted DNA.

Even though there was little change to Phantom’s appearance, seeing the black haired, brown eyed human boy staring back at Mark was rather shocking, if he were being honest. There was something off putting about seeing this enigma quite literally brought back to life. It took away that edge of lore that the heroic town enigma had.

Now Phantom wasn’t some wild mystery. He was just...a kid.

“This really is something,” Crowley said. “Guess we should put it to good use.”

Mark sighed, turning his attention back to his desktop. Sifting through missing person’s reports was never exactly a fun way to start the morning.

“You think you can handle it, rookie?” Crowley asked.

“Yeah, I got it. I’ll let you know if I find anything interesting.”

Crowley let the photographs drop to his side. “Alright, I’m going to continue doing some digging on our suspects.”

“Good luck.”

“And you.”

The work was tedious and depressing. Face after face of missing minors flickered across his screen. It was almost too hard to believe that Phantom was a part of this list.

Caucasian. Black hair. Eye color unknown. Five foot five.

That was all they had on Phantom. For all they knew, he could have been from another city entirely.

But hopefully Mark would find a hit, at least one kid from Amity who fit the profile.

And in fact, there were a few...sort of. Four teens who had black hair and were about five foot five. But none of them looked quite like Phantom.

Which meant Mark had to widen his search.

How wonderful.

He leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms out wide. It was nearly lunchtime now and he felt like he’d gotten no further than where he was before. Mark stood from his chair, feeling a bit defeated. Hopefully Crowley would’ve had better luck on the suspect list than Mark.

He strolled over to Crowley’s desk, only to find the desk empty. Crowley had likely already left for lunch, the bastard hadn’t even bothered to grab Mark on the way.

Not that Mark could really blame him. He doubted Crowley wanted to use his lunch break to talk about the case after the tedious research they both had spent their mornings doing.

Mark dug his phone out of his pocket, intent on sending the older detective an update, when he stopped. Out of the corner of his eye, a familiar face stared up at him.

Mark slowly lowered the device and crept toward the desk, as if his mere presence would disintegrate the paper on his desk.

Inside Fentonworks: the Fenton family’s home-grown anti-ghost business!

It was an article printed from some online magazine that Mark didn’t recognize. Slapped on the cover of the page, just under the title, was a photo of a family of four beaming, waving at the camera. One of the members was a young boy—about Phantom’s age—with black hair in almost the same haircut as Phantom, with that crooked smile that Phantom had been caught adorning all too many times.

Waving at the camera.

Skinny, short for a boy, son to two ecto-science parents who fill their basement with dangerous high-voltage and easily combustible ecto-technology.

His name was listed as Daniel.

Mark glanced at the two images in his hand, and then looked at the article below him.

Holy shit.

No. There was no way. Crowley had been suspicious of them, and he had good reason to include them on his suspect list, but this kid was alive. He wasn’t missing, he wasn’t dead, he was standing right there.

It just wasn’t possible.

His apple watch pinged, alerting him of a ghost attack nearby.

Mark hurried back to his desk, swiping his coat off his chair.

This was impossible.

The police sketch and the copy of the article pressed against his fist.

Phantom was a ghost. Ghosts will do anything to protect themselves. They would lie, cheat, and manipulate humans in order to stay on top.

Mark was just seeing things.

There was no way that this was him.

He beelined for the door, tucking the papers into his pants pocket.

It wasn’t possible.

The drive there was short, and the fight even shorter. It had just been the Box Ghost, so nothing that Phantom couldn’t handle. The ghost gave his little song and dance, captured the ghost, and waved brightly to the crowd. But Mark could see right through it, right past all the cracks in his façade.

Phantom was losing it.

And Mark could end this.

“Phantom!” Mark called out through his cupped hands.

The ghost flinched, his cheery face replaced with a scowl instantly.

“Another time,” he said.

But Mark didn’t have another time. He needed to know now.

Because Phantom could end this insane proposition. He could laugh heartlessly at the mere mention that he was this random living child. He was Phantom, protector of Amity Park, not some human experiment.

Not some impossibility.

Not some kid who’s been dead for a year and only pretending to be human for his family.

Not the greatest act of manipulation from a ghost that Mark had ever seen.

Mark yanked the papers from his pocket and unfolded them with shaking fingers. He held them up hastily, knowing that they were too far away for normal human eyes.

But this was Phantom. He wasn’t human.

Mark saw the exact moment that Phantom recognized the photos. The ghost’s eyes widened, his face paled, his aura dimmed. Then, in the blink of an eye, the ghost vanished.

Mark was right.

---

The air was thick, tense. Phantom slumped in his armchair, his body the equivalent of a white flag. Even so, his eyes were bright, charged with nervous energy.

He was terrified.

Atlas must have sensed this, because the dog had decided to break away from being Sarah’s shadow to lay against the ghost’s feet.

“I don’t know where to start,” Phantom admitted after a few tense beats of silence.

“The beginning, maybe,” Jacob said.

Phantom looked sick at the suggestion, but relented. “You’re right. Yeah...I…” he glanced up at the two detectives and Sarah seated across the coffee table on her dull green couch. Phantom had appeared in her kitchen not even an hour ago, looking like he’d just seen the personification of death itself.

And instantly, Sarah knew.

She’d tried to coax him to let her bring him to the station so he could come clean there, but he refused. He said the information was too sensitive and he didn’t trust the station to not have cameras recording every angle of every room.

And so they settled on her living room instead. Mark and Jacob arrived, seeming none too surprised by the arrangement, and more than willing to follow Phantom’s direction if it meant they would finally get the truth.

Which Phantom didn’t seem remotely ready to give.

“I guess…” He tried again, closing his eyes. There was another tense moment of silence before a pair of white rings appeared around Phantom’s waist, traveling up his body and leaving behind a skinny black haired teenager.

Phantom cautiously opened his eyes. And, to Sarah’s surprise, they were blue.

“You’re Daniel Fenton,” Mark said.

She heard Jacob suck in a breath.

“Yes. I’m Danny Fenton.” Without the echo, his voice sounded much closer, much more down to earth than Phantom’s. “And a year ago, I was in an accident.”

His voice, like the rest of him, seemed softer without the powerful aura of Phantom behind it. If Sarah had passed him on the street, she wouldn’t have blinked twice. Gone was the cocky personality, the perfect posture, the floating white hair, the bright, determined expression. Gone was the jumpsuit, the logo, the strong voice that seemed like it could project for a mile, the banter, the confidence.

It was just a kid. A kid with baggy jeans, dirty shoes, and a plain shirt. He didn’t seem lithe, he looked weak. The green undertone to his skin was replaced with red, and his shoulders hunched in a way Sarah had never seen on Phantom before.

“What happened?” Mark asked.

“When my parents first completed their interdimensional ghost portal, it didn’t work. I decided to—it was my fault. I just decided to go in it. I don’t know why.” He looked up to the ceiling. “It was a stupid idea. The portal was plugged in, but there was a switch inside that wasn’t turned on, and I tripped over a wire and turned it on. From the inside.”

Sarah felt a pang in her chest. “That’s horrible.”

“Yeah. It was,” Phantom agreed. “And then I guess the portal stabilized the connection between Amity Park and the Ghost Zone, because ghosts started appearing in town. So I decided that if it was my fault that they were here, I was going to protect the town. And that’s what I’ve done.”

That’s his Obsession, Sarah realized. It’s protection.

“Why not come out with it?” Jacob asked. “Why bury your body? Why still try to pass as a human?”

Phantom’s head fell into his hands. “I didn’t know what else to do! It—I...you have to understand, my parents would never understand. They think all ghosts are evil. I couldn’t just come out and tell them what happened, they’d kill me!”

“So you decided it was safer to play human,” Jacob said.

“Yeah. I guess I did. Especially since...I sort of still am?” He lifted his head and stuck out his wrist. “I still have a pulse.”

No one moved.

“You’re shitting me,” Jacob guffawed.

“No, I’m being serious. The portal killed me, but then it brought me back to life. Except by then my body was already altered from the ecto-electricity, so the working theory is that I exist in this sort of limbo state between dead and alive. Hence why…” He transformed into Phantom and then back to Fenton. “Hence why I have two forms.”

“And the body,” Mark said. “The coroner report said it only weighed a little over half the weight of a normal body due to all the ectoplasm. But if you’re half alive, how would you have a body?”

Danny shrugged. “I don’t know? To be honest, that day was such a nightmare that I’ve mostly blocked it out.”

Mark finally reached over and took the boy’s wrist. He pressed two fingers against the skin and waited.

“Damn.” His eyes widened. “It’s actually there.”

“No way,” Jacob said, leaning over to take Phantom’s wrist. A few seconds passed before he was joining Mark’s reaction. “It is there.”

“I know.” Phantom tucked his arm back to his chest. “I don’t understand it. I have a heart and also a ghost core. I can feel it all the time, even as a human. I have human thoughts and feelings and ghostly instincts playing constantly.”

As confusing and morbid as this was, it made sense in a sort of twisted way that Sarah only reserved for the rambling logic of her paranoid, senior grandmother. It explained why Phantom, a ghost, would willingly risk himself day in and day out over the safety of humans. Phantom was a ghost who was driven to protect his home, and he was also a human who wanted to look after those he loved.

He was truly Schrödinger’s cat. Dead and alive inside his little box, his little town, with no one able to measure him.

“That’s the thing that sets you apart from the ghosts,” Sarah said, tapping her knee with her finger. “That day when you came to my house saying that you were different, this is what you were talking about. You also said it would be dangerous if this information got out.”

The question was implied, and Phantom seemed to pick up on it, judging by his grimace.

“You weren’t talking about your parents.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“So then who is it? Who was trying to destroy the morgue? Who are you hiding from?”

Danny crossed his arms and glared at the floor. “Isn’t it obvious?” he said bitterly. “The government. GiW, all of them. Think of what they’d do if they knew someone could be both dead and alive at the same time.”

“Well fuck the lot of them,” Jacob said.

“Yeah,” Danny agreed.

“And the ghost who was trying to take down the morgue?” Mark pressed.

“I…” Danny’s eyes shifted. “I can’t say. It’s a ghost thing. All the ghosts in the Zone know about me, they call me a halfa. Half alive, half dead. Honestly, I don’t think it took much convincing for them to want to protect me.”

“But you were fighting against them,” Jacob countered. “If they were really trying to protect you, then why not go along with them?”

Danny opened and closed his mouth, the words seemingly stuck in his throat. Words from Maddie’s ecto-biology papers fluttered across Sarah’s eyes, about how ghosts were evil, they were liars, they’d say and do anything to keep themselves safe.

But as Danny let out a defeated sigh, his arms uncrossing to dangle at his side, Sarah couldn’t help but see the face of a scared teen who was just doing his best.

“It’s a ghost thing,” he finally said. “I didn’t like what they were doing because...because I needed to protect my body. If the building collapsed, it would have gotten damaged.”

Sarah blinked, and her and Mark exchanged a glance.

“I see,” Mark said carefully. “So if there was a plan to recover your...body...safely, you would have gone along with it?”

“I don’t know. Ghosts are weird, they all have their own agenda. I’d rather if it were just...left alone. In the ground. Untouched. Like it had been.”

They were silent for a moment, and Sarah watched as Jacob and Mark stared at each other in silent conversation. One that only partners could properly understand.

Finally, Jacob relented. “Okay, here’s the deal. Say I go talk with Chief Davis and he agrees to keep your identity secret. In exchange, all you’d have to do for us is tell your parents.”

For a moment, Sarah thought Phantom was going to bolt out of the armchair.

“Why?”

“Because you’re screwing around putting your life in danger every day, kid,” Jacob said. “Not to mention, your parents’ house is a walking minefield for you. You godda protect yourself.”

“I protect myself just fine.”

“Doesn’t dismiss the fact that you’re running off getting in fights every day with ghosts, and then coming home to a house littered with ecto-weapons that could kill you. You know, all the way.”

“My parents will kill me if they find out though,” Danny said darkly. “You don’t know them.”

“Which is why you won’t be alone. Crowley and I will be there with you. And I know a woman in CPS who can keep this on the down low too. We won’t let anything happen, promise,” Mark said.

Phantom glanced between them, his wide blue eyes betraying just how fearful he was. “You promise?”

“Yeah kid, we got your back.”

---

“It’s going way better than I thought,” Danny said, throwing the stick up the path.

Atlas didn’t hesitate, bounding after the object with an enthusiasm rivaled by no one.

“I’m glad,” Sarah said. “You deserve a safe place to go home to.”

Danny cocked his head. “Yeah. I guess I do.”

Getting to know Danny these past few weeks was surreal. For a year now, Sarah had a set mental image of who Phantom was. The hero, the great protector, the thrill-seeker.

But now, as she got to know the quiet yet snarky kid who went to school and stressed over his math exams just like any other teen would, she’d gotten to appreciate the person that Danny truly was, the person he became when he wasn’t trying to hide his ghostly persona or playing the larger-than-life character.

Atlas pranced back, the stick held high like an Olympic medal.

“Good boy!” Danny praised.

At Sarah’s nonverbal command, Atlas dropped the stick in front of Danny, who was more than happy to pick it up and hurl ahead of the dirt path again.

“It’s weird. It’s almost like...I don’t know, it’s just kind of relieving? To not need to hide? Like don’t get me wrong, my parents are still kinda weird about it. I still don’t really use any of my powers at home because I just don’t think I’m ready. But the other day I used intangibility to get a cup out of the cabinet instead of just opening the cabinet door, and my mom didn’t even say anything. I remember back when I first got my powers and I couldn't figure out how to work them. I spent so long trying to hide any weirdness, and to think that now I can just do stuff and nobody cares.” A blissful smile dressed Danny’s lips. “It’s just nice, is all.”

“I bet,” Sarah said. “Must be a huge weight off your shoulders. And your sister’s okay with it?”

“Oh yeah. My sister actually already knew about it.”

“You’re kidding. Really?”

Danny threw the stick again. “Yeah, but I already knew about that. She told me a few months ago. But she’s been really helpful at home with trying to get everyone on the same page.”

“That’s good.”

“And my dad’s already been begging to take me out to the field with him.”

“Have you taken him up on it?”

“No. Not yet.”

Sarah peered cautiously over to him. “Why not?”

“I dunno.” Danny’s eyes tracked Atlas’ triumphant return from the woods. “It just seems a bit weird still. And besides, it would be kinda odd if my parents went from trying to kill me to suddenly Phantom’s new best friend overnight. For now they’ve agreed to a public truce.”

Ah yes, the truce. That had been all over the news when the Fenton’s announced it, citing new research into ghost psychology that showed instances of benevolent ghosts. The news had rocked the city, some calling the duo crazy, while others praising them for their growth.

Even though Phantom and the Fenton couple were still in the growing pains of their new truce, no one could deny how much more smoothly ghost fights had gotten since it began. There was less property damage, less citizen’s hurt, and overall the process seemed far more professional than it ever had.

“I’ve noticed a change,” Sarah said. “I really think it’s for the best.”

“So do I. Even though it’s still kinda weird.”

“It’ll get easier, just give it time.”

Atlas dropped the stick, apparently distracted by some scent on a bush. He stopped to sniff the plant before wandering behind it, his nose glued to the ground.

“Wait, Atlas—” Danny started, watching as Atlas disappeared into the foliage.

Hearing his name, the dog leapt back onto the trail and over to Danny, who paused to scratch him behind his ear. “Good boy.”

Sarah grinned down at the duo.

Who knew a cadaver dog and a half dead kid could make such a good pair?

---

Thanks for reading!

#danny phantom #my writing #morge #invisobang #invisobang 2021

[astaroth1357]

MC's Family Finds Out that They're Actually Dating a Demon the Hard Way

Demon boys more or less going demon on the MC's family. Bound to happen really. This one ain’t so cuddly guys. Special thanks to @anonimo324 for the inspiration for this one. Literally never would have occurred to me if they hadn't have said something and I love the excuse to revisit this idea. 😄 

Check out the Masterlist for more!

IMPORTANT: Continuation to "Demon Brothers Meeting the MC's Family" The general setup to this post is in that one.

Lucifer

You know what they say about things that seem too good to be true, right?

Oh, their MC's new boyfriend was smooth, put together, intelligent…

And prideful. So very prideful.

It radiated off of him like no tomorrow, there was just a subtle but constant air of superiority to everything the man did or said. Some may find it attractive but others? It can drive other people right up the wall.

And that's exactly what it did to some members of the MC's family. Even if he seemed educated and well-spoken what made him think he was so special? What made him think he was just so much better than the rest of the world??

They couldn't have known just how angry he'd get when they confronted him about it.

They couldn't have known that they weren’t questioning an arrogant man, but a prideful demon who'd take offense at the mere thought of being anywhere near their level.

It was only when he stood towering before them, demonic wings and horns in full view, did they learn the folly of their actions.

In their hospital beds, bones broken and bodies bruised, they'd rant and rave to anyone who'd listen "He's a demon! A demon! My child/sibling/etc. is dating a demon!!"

The MC disappeared with Lucifer that night, however. Their family writes them off as either dead or kidnapped for torture purposes.

In truth, they returned to the Devildom and Lucifer will never hear the end of how he lost control and attempted to skewer the MC's family members. Surely such a mighty demon should have better control than that... 🙄😑

Mammon

His dumbass let it slip a couple months in, but not without good reason for once.

He had actually been doing pretty well with their family. Sure he wasn't perfect,  but he made it clear enough he was looking out for MC and honestly the rest of them as well.

It was small things. Checking up on them sometimes. Making sure the little ones, if any, were safe. Not stealing anything that isn't nailed down (though that's something the MC notices more than their family of course).

It takes a lot. A lot. A LOT to make Mammon break out his demon form. He's better at keeping it in than Lucifer. But showing him something that’s threatening MC is actually a pretty quick why to do it.

The family was out together on a shopping trip, a giddy Mammon included because he knew that meant he could beg ask the MC to buy him stuff.

They really should have checked before they started strolling down the damn crosswalk, but they didn't, and an impatient taxi went hurtling towards them.

Before they could even open their eyes Mammon was already lecturing them about their stupidity, holding them on the other side of the street. Shirtless because his demon form was out and the dumbass forgot to hide it again. Even though they were in public.

He was quick to change back once he noticed, but the damage was done. You can say their family was a little surprised that he straight up grew wings and horns. Only one of them fainted anyway.

To avoid causing further panic, Mammon just legs it away with MC still in his arms, shouting back an quick expletive laced "apology" over his shoulder.

MC smooths things over with their family later by phone. No one can quite wrap their head around the fact that Mammon is a demon, despite what they had seen, but it helps that he did seem to want to protect them.

The MC is not allowed to come home if they want to bring their demon boyfriend too, but their family isn't as worried about them as they could be. Mammon's looking out for them after all.

Leviathan 

Okay. They always knew the boy was a little weird but hot damn did that opinion suddenly go from 0 to 60 real quick.

Levi was distant and off-putting at first but in time it became pretty clear that he was just pretty awkward. He wasn't the best with people, but he seemed harmless enough.

It was the MC's idea to bring him along on a family weekend trip to the beach. They honestly couldn't understand why at first. He never seemed to like being with them...

It DID start to click for them a little more when they saw the guy in the water though. They can say it's probably the first time they'd ever seen him so comfortable in his own skin. He even started smiling!

Things were actually going smoothly for them all for once… until other people started taking notice of MC in their swimsuit and one bold gentleman decided to make a cheeky comment on it.

Now, Levi had always stuck close to MC when he was around them. He was practically a second shadow. But it seemed like the second he took notice of those glances he got extra clingy and after that comment.. he started to have a meltdown.

The once bold gentleman was kindly picked up by the neck and hurdled into the ocean like a Frisbee. It would have been hilarious if it weren't so horrifying.

It was about the time that the lad grew a snake tail that the MC's family peaced out off the beach, screaming in terror. MC and Levi left too, mostly because Levi was hellbent on dragging them back to the Devildom in a jealous rage. Obviously THIS is the kind of shit that happens when he leaves his room!

No plans are ever made to go visit again, which he's very happy about. He hated being out in "the real world" anyway.

Satan

Nice as he could be, that temper was bound to catch up to him eventually…

There would be small incidents. A kid cuts him off on the sidewalk and he'd get a little loud and snippy about it. A dog won't stop barking at him and he'd just glare and send it away with a terrified whimper. These things were… worrisome. But not all that demonic.

Then other red flags started showing up. A person on the street would be rude to him and he'd look honestly ready to kill. It'd take MC physically holding him back to keep him in place. Their family was worried about them… Had they'd fallen victim to a possible abuser...?

MC had never listened to what their family had to say, always claiming that they were perfectly safe with their boyfriend. That he had to listen to what they said. But no one really bought that…

Well if there is one way to piss Satan off (and there are many) probably the fastest and most lethal is to doubt his intelligence. Especially if you're only one of those everyday, average humans...

That poor employee at the bookstore had no idea what kind of mistake they made when he told Satan he wasn't looking for Camus but Kafka then refused to double check. Satan doesn't make mistakes about his authors. Ever.

What was originally just supposed to be a relaxing afternoon with the family turned into a night in the station as everyone was questioned about the employee whose head got flattened against the store counter-top. The police weren't entirely convinced a demon did it, but they would look for a blonde.

Said demon had chucked MC over his shoulder and took off before the police arrived to investigate, which as far as they're concerned also kind of amounts to kidnapping.

Satan's now a fugitive in the MC's hometown and on the FBI's Most Wanted List so safe to say that they won't really be visiting anymore.

Asmodeus 

Not as surprised as you might think. There were some signs…

Asmo had a bewitching quality to him that went well into the unnatural. He could soothe and win over right about any person or animal to an… uncomfortable degree.

He also kept bringing up and babbling about nonsense products all the time. He always seemed to have the perfect hair treatment or know the best drinks but no one else had ever heard of any of it. What the heck even is Demonus…?

But the real kicker was, well, just how lustful he was. There were horn dogs and then there was this guy. It felt like he could flirt with a potted plant sometimes.

Though he was nice, no one in their house thought Asmo was faithful to MC. And even if he were, his blatant willingness to tease right about anyone he came across was showing them disrespect. 

Unfortunately, they had made the poor decision to confront him about it and claim that he didn't actually "love" MC….

There are few things more brutal and less forgiving than an enraged Asmo. Here he was with these humans, people he had been nothing but nice to, and they were doubting his love for MC?? What gave them the right!?

He had his demon form out and his whip already raised to teach these slanderers a lesson! Even if he had grown to like some of them, his anger took over his reason and he had to vent his displeasure NOW.

The MC stepped in before he could crack the whip and made him stop. Their family was terrified but he charmed them into calming down while he and MC talked things out.

They (by which I mean mostly a fuming Asmo) decided that since their family couldn't understand their love for each other, they didn't deserve to see it.

They leave the house calmly and don't come back. MC still sometimes calls their family, but they refuse to leave the Devildom or their beautiful fallen angel, no matter how much their family pleads for them to come home.

Beelzebub 

On the one hand, absolutely no one wants to believe it… But it also does make a lot of things make more sense in hindsight.

Like, he was built like a linebacker so it was sort of understandable just how many calories his body seemed to need but there was a limit.

He. Just. Kept. Eating. Never-endingly hungry. Always poking through the kitchen or ordering a mountain of pizzas. More impressively, he never made any leftovers… Ever.

He was such a sweetheart though… They tried to turn a blind eye for a while. Make excuses and rationalize the impossible… but it couldn't last.

It was only supposed to be one nice dinner out. MC had gone over the rules with him ten times before going, "This is a human restaurant and I'm paying, so you HAVE to stop at thirds. Okay? Okay??"

He tried. But the food was sooo good, he just couldn’t stop! And, like clockwork, here comes the manager to cut him off and there goes an angry Beel. Full demon form, tossing tables and wrecking chairs to everyone's absolute horror.

MC had to use the pact to stop him. They could only leave their family with a quick goodbye before they had to book it from the cops on Beel's back as he flew away.

To say there was a mini-meltdown among the members left behind would be an understatement. What the HELL just happened to the sweet young man they had come to know???

The damages were paid for by Lucifer a "mysterious donor" and everything was explained to their family by MC over video call from the Devildom with a very guilty and apologetic Beel in attendance.

When it was clear that the MC wasn't going to leave him or literal Hell despite their protests, they either had to accept it or never hear from them again. Members made their choices, but it's pretty hard to stay mad at someone they've grown to like so much...

He's no longer allowed to go visit them in the human world (which is probably for the best) but shows up on MC's video calls regularly. They still kind of think of him as family even if he could eat them all. He's just such a nice lad, you know?

Belphegor

…. You know, there was always something kind of off about that kid.

It was always hard to place what made Belphie so… different. It could have been the way he never seemed to take any of them seriously or the kind of amazing lack of energy he brought to things.

It also could have been the fact he kept making comments about being a demon, going to "hell," knowing Satan personally, etc. but always played them off as jokes.

Honestly when it finally came out that yes, he was actually a demon, it was almost a relief because it made waaaay more sense than not.

Still fucking terrifying, though.

One of their family members had made the mistake of waking him up from a nap when he and MC were there for a visit

Now. It's not easy to wake Belphie even on a good day but an airhorn to the face is probably not the way to go about it.

When he sent said family member soaring out the window, one-handed, with his horns and tail on full display and a familiar look of murder in his eyes, MC knew the charade was pretty much up...

True to his word, Belphie doesn't let some humans keep MC away from him. He scooped them up and hopped out the broken window before they could really even protest or explain anything.

Which, I mean, how does one even go about smoothing over the fact your demon boyfriend just yeeted one of your family members out of the house?

Their family is kind of able to put two and two together themselves regardless. Which is good because neither Belphie or MC are probably coming back any time soon. If ever. Hope they enjoy postcards...

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #still too fun to write #satan runnin' from the FBI man #beel would call your parents mom and dad #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios

[turtle-babe83]

hello dear,

Can I order a 20,11,29 please With Mikey (bayers ) Pretty pleaaase????

thank u kindly ^+^

You absolutely can sis! 🧡 I hope this is what you were looking for.

Warning: Language and NSFW 18+ only

Trouble. He was absolute trouble with a capital T. A ball of perpetual energy with a penchant for mischief. And. You. Loved. Him.

“Hey Mikey, have you seen my -“

You looked up to find your panties twirling at the end of one thick green finger. Rolling your eyes, you grabbed for them, only to have the lacy fabric pulled just out of reach.

“Come on, I have to get ready!”

You watched, unamused, as your boyfriend made a slingshot out of them, sending them flying who knows where in his mess of a room. Fine. You could go without underwear. So, where were your pants? You squinted your eyes as you scanned the room. Wait, what was that poking out from under the bed? Your bra? You started forward when suddenly, two big green arms wrapped around your waist.

“Don’t go,” he whined in your ear, “you know you wanna stay here with me.”

“Mikey, I have to go to work! I stayed the night, is that not enough?”

“I never get enough of you, Babycakes.”

It’s hard to argue when two soft pillowy lips are trailing a molten path down the side of your neck. No, focus!

“I’m going to be late because you can’t keep it in your pants.”

“You had no complaints about me getting it out of my pants last night.....”

“Mikey! You horn dog!” you attempted to smack at him, but he quickly restrained your arms with a laugh. You resorted to glaring.

“Look, I’m just sayin’, you’re naked, I’m naked,” he twirled you around, licking his lips lewdly.

You managed to twist out of his grasp, grabbing one of his old T-shirts and throwing it on for decency sake. When you opened the door, he got concerned.

“Hey, don’t be mad. You can’t leave wearing just that!”

You roll your eyes, “Relax, I’m just going for a quick shower.”

No one else was up yet, or at least no one had left their rooms as you made your way to the bathroom. You didn’t realize you had been followed until you tried to shut the door behind you, only to have it blocked by a big two-toed foot.

“I heard shower sex is dangerous, but right now, I’m willing to take the risk.”

You gave up. Mikey always managed to get his way with you, and it was your own fault for indulging him. You stepped out of the way, letting him in, and pulled off the shirt that was five sizes too big.

“Lock the door, at least.” you muttered, stepping into the shower and turning on the spray.

When Mikey joined you, he looked like a kid who was just given the keys to a candy store. How did he always get so excited about being with you? Despite your earlier frustrations, you were melting under the look in his big baby blue eyes and the way he was smiling that certain smile, the one reserved only for you.

“Ah c’mere,” you reached for him and he swept you up in his arms, pressing his face into the side of your neck. You giggled as the tip of his tongue came out to tease just behind your ear. When your mouths met, it was teeth and tongue, wet heat and urgency. This was why you could never deny him. He was every fantasy you had ever had and so many you never realized you wanted. You were utterly addicted.

Turning you around, away from the spray, he pushed you forward and had you plant your hands on the built in shower seat. Leaning over you, he slid his hands up to cup your breasts, twisting and pinching your pert nipples. Spurred on by your moans, he pressed wet, open mouthed kisses down your spine. Then he was kneeling behind you, gently pushing your legs farther apart. You glanced back at him, to see him staring, enraptured by the pretty pink display your pussy presented.

“Fuck,” he moaned, “will you marry me?”

You started to laugh, but it quickly turned to a low groan as his tongue swept over your cunt, pressing firmly and intent on snagging every drop of your essence. Clit sucking, labia nibbling, core stabbing, you want it? He’s got it. He never let up for a second, eating you out like his last meal on death row and he wasn’t letting one drop go to waste. You felt thoroughly worshipped, but every time he brought you to the edge, he would change techniques.

“Mikey!” you whined.

“Yes, Angelcakes?”

“I wanna cum!”

“Well, why didn’t you say so?” he grinned mischievously. You threw him a surly look over your shoulder and pushed your ass out further to encourage him to finish you off. The big tease. Returning to your pussy with a vengeance, he latched on your clit and flicked his tongue over it with speed and fervor. Feeling your orgasm building again, you moaned uncontrollably. When he finally sucked it, you exploded. A wail worked its way out of your mouth as your release came over you in waves. Mikey just licked away at your juices as you came down. Your legs shook slightly and Mikey kissed your thighs and nipped a butt cheek as he stood.

“Can you keep going?” he murmured, lifting your upper body and bracing your hands on the wall of the shower. You managed to nod. Pressing up against your back, he lined himself up with your slick entrance, and grasping your hips, he began to push slowly through your folds. No matter how many times you had joined like this, that first stretch was bliss. Not really painful, but hovering at the edge. Once he was fully seated inside your moist heat, he waited, allowing you to adjust and to tease himself a bit.

“Fucking move!” you groaned, squirming at the full sensation.

He planted his hands on either side of yours and bent his knees just enough to torture you with short, shallow strokes. He chuckled at your growls of frustration. He lifted your leg and set your foot at the edge of the shower seat, pulling your ass out a little closer. You couldn’t suppress a shiver as he leaned in close to your ear, with one demand. “Brace yourself.”

Oh shit. That was all the warning you got before he was pounding your pussy into the next dimension. Your cheek was pressed against the shower wall, hands splayed out, thighs jiggling. The noises you emitted only rivaled his own as you both chased the high of release.

So close, so close, so close, “fuuuuuuuck!”

At the tightening of your core, Mikey felt his own orgasm burst over him. He grasped your hips as he pumped out his seed, determined to give you every last drop. He gathered you back against his chest with a satisfied sigh. Grabbing the shower sprayer, he began to rinse you both off, while you silently thanked Donnie for the miraculous water heater he designed. Mikey wrapped you up in a towel and carried you back to his room. Your legs were jelly and you decided to just call in to work. Who needed a job anyway, right? Right. Mikey only felt a smidge of guilt over it.

Lazily, you leaned back against the headboard and watched as he rummaged through a box he had pulled out from under the bed.

“You know, you never did answer me,” he murmured, wrapping something in his fist.

“Hmm, what? What did you ask me?” you frowned, genuinely confused.

Mikey sat across from you and took your hand in his, palm up. He placed a small black box in the center and popped it open. You felt your heart nearly stop, then start again at a galloping rhythm.

“Y/n, will you do me the incredible honor of being my Wifeycakes?”

A laughing sob was all you could manage, nodding your head vigorously. His face lit up as he slid the ring on your tiny finger. Yep, he was trouble. The best kind.

#teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #tmnt bayverse #fan fiction #fanfic #michelangelo #tmnt fandom #thanks for the ask! #smut prompts #bayverse mikey #tmnt mikey x reader

[hkonwo]

Malleus, Vil, Idia, and Leona as housemates and also ✨friends✨

They make fun of Crowley together, with the exception of Malleus.

Leona and Idia choke on their drink the first time they see Malleus polishing his horn while Vil nodded in approvals.

Once Idia bring home his family dogs because his parents ask him to take care of it for a while and it's a growling and glare battle between Leona and the dogs.

Malleus once destroyed the wall that separate his and Idia's room to Vil's and Leona's room because Ortho suggested them sleeping together in a room to be close.

They always make fun of how Leona write letter and his real personality is different.

-

Leona: I'm trained to be proper, okay?!

Vil: they clearly failed your training.

-

Vil accidentally walks in on Idia cosplaying once, complaining about the make up, fix it, add some additional stuff, then went out.

Malleus keeps accidentally shaming Vil for when Vil doesn't know something.

-

Malleus: That and this is different. This one-

Vil: I get it! Stop lecturing me!

-

No one ever borrow or lend Idia a pen because he always bite the top of it out of habits.

They have 'You Are Unwelcome' as their carpet on their front door.

They never fight for who go to bath first because their schedule is so different. Even if they need to take a bath at the same time, there are 2 shower and a bathtub there.

Idia is a board game collector.

Leona keep being the one where Vil tested make up on if he need someone.

They sometimes forget that Vil isn't a noble or royalty

-

Malleus: Are you guys invited to this party that the royal family of Isle Of Lamentation casted? We should go together.

Leona: yeah yeah whatever.

Idia: sure... My family force me to attend anyway.

Vil: I'm not a noble?

----

Vil, Leona, and Malleus never knew that Idia's lips are natural before they saw him go to bed.

-

Vil: you need to wipe your makeup to take care of your skin.

Idia: uh?

Malleus: I agree, I do not understand why would you want to keep your makeup. Are you nervous to show us your true face?

Idia: I'm not wearing any make up???

-

Malleus: is there any reason that your lips are naturally blue?

Idia: idk, my parents?

----

Vil stills doesn't forget the moment where Idia ditched him in bean event.

-

Vil: you could've sacrificed yourself to help me escape if you're planning to give up on the start!

Idia: like I need both Rook and Trey looming over me! Plus how you literally shove me?!

Vil: I was protecting you!

Malleus and Leona watching from the distance:

-

Oho, they don't forget the fact that Leona and Malleus robe has been switched too. Ah, and how Malleus is always not invited

-

Leona: it was all your fault, you didn't even come yet you wash yours. What an idiotic move.

Malleus: oh. maybe if someone invites me to the dorm leader meeting, or, I don't know, alert me. I might know.

Idia and Vil, sweating from the distance:

-

They bond also from their dorm leader experience.

-

Idia: I can't believe that kind of guy are pushed to Ignihyde! He fits in Pomefiore! I understand some aspect is there... But...

Vil: now that you say something about that... This one guy awfully fit Diamsomnia. I agree he still have Pomefiore quality though.

Leona: Hah, there's this nerd in my dorm that gushes all over tech, I keep thinking why he didn't got sorted to Ignihyde. But he's strong so meh.

Malleus: there is this brute guy as well... Fits in Savannaclaw.

Leona: ...you're saying all my dorm members are brute?

-

Not only they bond over being third years dorm leader, they also bond from over blotting together.

#ex-overblot

#thirdyearsdormleader

#overblotthirdyears #webondinoverblot

#idia shroud #leona kingscholar #malleus draconia #twisted wonderland #twst #twst idia #twst leona #twst malleus #twst vil #vil schoenheit #headcanon #housemateau

[dameronology]

love in the time of p.t.a meetings {marcus moreno} - 2/5

summary: your kid has taken a liking to marcus moreno - and frankly, so have you {series masterlist}

warnings: swearing, mentions of divorce & very brief mentions of his wife’s death 

i don’t normally update series this quickly but this was originally one imagine that reached about 11k words lmao so it’s all written, just being split up. i’ve also decided it’s gonna be 5 parts instead of 3, cos i reread the ending and realised i was not done by a longshot. enjoy!

- jazz

Mondays. You hated ‘em.

Everything just seemed so...amplified. The peace and relaxation of the weekend was over and everyone had to go back on the grind. The traffic always seemed worst, the clock seemed to tick backwards and you just wanted to be at home, in bed. After an incident involving the dog, a toaster and a small pan fire, you were already running twenty minutes late and you knew in your soul that your child’s shoes weren’t on the right feet. That, and also he was wearing a Chewbacca onesie to school. It had been a compromise. As in, he was refusing to go to school unless you let him wear the damn thing. It was a compromise. You’d lost. 

On the bright side, the past weekend had been the best you’d had in a long time. Jack had spent all of Saturday afternoon at the Heroics headquarters and he was so worn out, he’d slept through all of Sunday. Marcus Moreno must have a been a fucking wizard, because you’d been trying to tire the kid out for five years. You made a mental note to do something in return, though you sensed there was nothing on God’s green earth that could possibly amount to babysitting the world’s most exhausting child for six hours. You were allowed to say that, because Jack was your world’s most exhausting child and you wouldn’t have changed him for anything. 

‘New week, huh buddy?’ You glanced at Jack in your rear view mirror. He was sat on his booster seat, legs dangling back and forth and a power ranger action figure in his hand. ‘A fresh start.’

‘Can we listen to the song from Cars?’ Jack ignored your comment.

‘You gotta try and behave yourself this week. You’ve seen what happens to people who do follow the rules, right? They get to go work at the Heroics-’

‘- I wanna listen to the song from Cars!’

You wanted to have a deep conversation. Jack wanted to listen to Life Is A Highway. That was...actually, it was exactly how you’d expected that to go. It wasn’t that off of the time you were trying to explain your divorce to him and he’d interrupted you to demand that you put Toy Story on. 

‘Sure thing, kid.’ You rolled your eyes, reaching across to hand him on your phone. ‘D’you know how to spell it-’

Your sentence was cut off by the sound of guitars blaring from the speakers. At least he could work out Spotify.

By some miracle, you managed to make it the school with a few minutes to spare. Because most people had dropped their kids off earlier (see: on time), the lot was pretty empty. That meant you could once again dump your car without regard for the painted white lines -- who had time to park properly on a Monday morning? That was for people who had their shit together.

Leaping out the car, you almost cursed when you tripped over your heels. You didn’t have to wear them, but since you’d started working in a managerial role at your office, you figured it made you look a little more professional. And what was the harm in being a few inches taller? It made you feel powerful.

‘C’mon, J.’ You pulled open the back door, helping Jack leap out the car. 

‘You know, I’m starting to think you can’t park your car at all.’

‘Marcus!’ Jack practically flew out the car, his tiny body suddenly jolting with excitement. 

‘Morning, buddy.’ He replied; he then moved his brown eyes to gaze at you, offering a smile. ‘Hey.’

‘Hey, how you doing?’ You greeted him. ‘I don’t normally see you here in the mornings.’

‘Yeah, I normally drop Missy off at the front but it was one of those mornings, you know? She was taking a little more convincing than usual to go in.’

‘My kid is in a Wookiee onesie and backwards Thomas the Tank Engine shoes and you have the audacity to ask me if I know those mornings? I am those mornings.’ You replied.

Marcus chuckled. ‘I think it’s a look. I especially like the Lightning McQueen sunglasses.’

‘Do you have a super suit?’ Jack asked. ‘Can I try it on?’

‘C’mon, Jack. You’ve already managed to get a tour of the HQ.’ You ruffled his hair. ‘And we gotta get going to school.’

‘But I wanna ask more questions.’ He muttered. ‘I have over a hundred.’

‘Don’t I know it.’ You murmured under your breath. ‘But school is more important.’

‘I don’t wanna go anymore.’

‘I let you wear the onesie. That was our agreement, remember?’

‘All good superheroes have to get an education.’ Marcus reasoned. ‘And if you go in, maybe I can show you my suit at some point?’

'Okay!’ Jack grinned. He wrapped his arms around your waist in a quick hug, before peering up at you with a toothy smile. ‘See ya later!’

He turned on his heel and ripped his backpack from your hand, suddenly speeding up the path and towards school. Had...had that just happened? For once in your life, had you not had to wrench him from the car and wrestle him through the school gates? Move aside, Harry Potter, because Marcus Moreno was the new wizard in town. You might have been a little jealous that he was so good with your son but at the same time, it made you like him even more. He was the first parent at the school that had leant into Jack’s wild tendencies. And, whilst you tried not to think too much about it, even his own dad had struggled to do that. It made your heart warm a little. 

‘You are seriously my favourite person.’ You chimed, leaning back against your car. 

‘Kids with character are way more fun than kids who are well-behaved.’ Marcus replied.

‘I spent forty-five minutes scraping string cheese out the USB port of my computer yesterday, but sure.’ 

He chuckled. ‘No, I’m serious. I don’t encourage Missy to misbehave but she does get herself into some situations. I choose to see it as a testament to her intelligence rather than disobedience.’

‘I refuse to believe for a second that Missy ever misbehaves.’ You shot back back. ‘She seems so well-behaved.’

‘What you see in the parking lot is not a reflection of our whole lives.’ He reminded you.

‘Right, because despite appearances, I’m actually a very put together parent.’ You snorted. ‘But I get what you mean.’

‘I gotta get to work now, but it was good to see you.’ Marcus pulled his car keys out his pocket. ‘I was serious about that suit thing, by the way. He saw my katanas on Saturday.’

‘Katanas?’ You spluttered. ‘My kid managed to start a fire last week out of nothing and you want to give him katanas?!’

‘Maybe I can show you how to use them.’ He flashed you a smile. ‘And then you can pass on the knowledge.’ 

‘That’s probably an even worse idea.’ You shook your head with a laugh, pulling open your car door. ‘I’ll see you around.’

‘You as well. Have a good day, pretty lady.’

--

Did you stop thinking about your exchange at any point during the day? Absolutely not. In fact, you’d already written an email to the local deed poll office to change your legal name to Pretty Lady. 

No, but in all seriousness, you’d been a little giddy about it. Had he been flirting? That didn’t seem like a long shot. You got on well, you’d hung out a bit over the weekend and not to toot your own horn, but you were by no means bad looking. Tired and a little frazzled, sometimes? Yeah. But anyone would have been lucky to have you and you were doing a better job at recognising that, especially since your divorce. 

You were almost ecstatic when it got to 4PM and you hadn’t received a single call from Jack’s teachers. That meant that he had behaved, and what Marcus had said had worked. Because you worked past his finishing time, he usually went to the after-school club till you could come to collect him - it had been a lifesaver, especially since you couldn’t always leave early. He usually came home with some kind of weird arts and crafts. Last week, it had been an unidentifiable item made of dried macaroni and glitter. He’d placed it pridefully on the old fireplace in your lounge. 

After saying goodbye to your co-workers, you headed out the building. Your office was right in the city centre and not too far out from the school. It was a nice place to be; your lunch hour, when you could head out to a street cart and eat your food in the local park, was usually the highlight of your day. It was when you could exist just as you. When you were at work, you were in charge on your entire department. When you were home, you were a parent 24/7. That time to yourself was vital.

As you were heading to your car, your phone began to ring. Your heart almost jumped out your chest when you saw Marcus’ name - he hadn’t called you before, only texted to sort out the previous weekend’s plans with Jack. You quickly organised yourself (he couldn’t see you, dumb ass) and cleared your throat.

‘Hey, everything alright?’ You brightly greeted him.

‘Hey! Are you out of work now?’

‘Yeah, I’m literally just leaving. What’s up?’

‘Look, I hate to do this but I’ve had an emergency at work - superhero related, you don’t wanna know - and I’m not gonna be out for hours.’ Marcus sounded stressed. Yeah, I feel that you thought. ‘Would you be able to pick up Missy and possibly have her for a few hours? If not, that’s totally-’

‘- I’d be glad too!’ You interrupted him. ‘I owe you one anyways for the weekend. And this morning, actually.’

‘You don’t owe me anything.’ He sounded surprised that you’d even imply it. ‘But I will definitely owe you for having Missy.’

‘Hey, it’s cool!’ You insisted. ‘Do you want me to drop her off at yours later?’

‘I can come and collect her if you text me your address?’

‘Perfect.’ You smiled. ‘I’ll see you later then?’

‘You’re a lifesaver.’ Marcus said. ‘I’ll text Missy to let her know to find your car instead of mine. I would ask for your plate number, but your car is...’

‘...bright red, covered in dents and hard to miss?’ You finished his sentence.

‘Exactly.’

You’d been in the same situation before; pulled between work and parenting, with Jack stuck at school and an important meeting that felt like it was never ending. It was hard to get a sitter on such short notice - or afford one, sometimes - and it was just another one of the million, stressful situations that single parenting could get you into. If you could help Marcus even a little bit, of course you were going to. You knew he’d do the same for you. Heck, he had done the same for you.

Jack and Missy were both chatty on the way home. Given that she was a little older than him, her conversational skills were strikingly better. It was nice to ask someone about their day and not get where are my Cheetos? as an answer. From what you gathered, she hated science class, enjoyed gym, and her favourite subject was lunch. That didn’t come as a surprise to you - her dad was a literal superhero and probably encouraged physical activity.

(You’d seen his arms, okay? They were more than enough to go on. I digress).

The only thing that made you wish you’d had a little more notice on having her for the evening was the state of your apartment. The place wasn’t bad; you’d lived there for the better part of eight years, and it was crammed with soft furniture and millions of blankets, as well as photos of you and Jack and his questionable art projects. It was just that you hadn’t done the dishes that morning, there was a mountain of shoes by the door and the pancakes from the previous night were still stuck on the roof.

Missy barely blinked an eye; the minute she saw your dog, she’d abandoned her bag and was playing with him. 

‘Hey buddy!’ She grinned. ‘What’s he called?’

‘That’s Oppy.’ You replied, hanging your jacket up. She didn’t need to know that it was short for Optimus Prime. No guesses on whose idea that had been. 

‘He’s so cute!’ Missy continued. ‘I’ve been asking dad for a dog for ages but he won’t budge.’

For some reason, that surprised you a little. Marcus might have been the leader of a super-hero team and a public figure, but you could tell he would do anything for his daughter. You knew because it was the same for you with Jack. He might have ruled your whole life but you would have hung the damn stars in the sky for him if he asked 

‘They’re a lot of work.’ You reasoned. ‘I have to wake up every morning at 6AM to make sure he gets a walk. Then there’s the matter of-’

‘- mum! Optimus Prime pooped in the bathroom!’

‘The matter of that.’ You murmured under your breath.

The rest of the evening went pretty smoothly. You fed the kids some leftover takeaway and between the dog and Netflix, they were easily entertained. Jack seemed to take a liking to Missy, which was good because it meant he wanted to sit with her the entire time instead of bouncing off the walls. She had the same patience as her dad, especially when he asked her a million questions about superheroes. It took her twenty minutes to convince him that Batman wasn’t her uncle, and a further fifteen to make him believe that she hadn’t met Captain America. 

Jack had asked you a few times about whether or not he would get siblings. Of course, it would be different to any interactions with Missy because he would have been the oldest, but it did get you thinking. You were finally in a place where you were moving past your former relationship and healing from the wounds. Time wasn’t much of an issue either - you’d had Jack when you were young and barely out of college. You couldn’t possibly imagine having any more kids right now, not when it was just the two of you, but in the future? You’d never rule out meeting somebody new. If anything, you were hopeful. Your first relationship had been your only one, and it had ended badly. You wanted to experience love for what it actually was, and not what you thought it was supposed to be. 

Not long after 7PM, there was a knock on your door. By that point, both Missy and Jack had passed out on the sofa with Star Wars playing quietly in the background. It had been her idea to watch it - she had good taste. Marcus had clearly done a good job.

‘Hey!’ You greeted him as you pulled open the front door. ‘Come in quick, it’s fucking freezing out there.’

‘Thank you.’ Marcus came inside, dusting a few snow flakes out his hair. ‘Seriously, I can’t say it enough-’

‘- it’s fine!’ You shook your head, offering him a smile. ‘Missy’s been great. She’s really chatty and it was nice to have a coherent conversation with someone that isn’t about Paw Patrol. But was everything at the office okay?’

He was quiet for a minute. ‘Yeah. We uh, we lost someone. A hero.’

‘Shit, man. I’m sorry.’ Your voice fell quiet. ‘You wanna come in? You look like you could probably take a moment.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Of course! Missy and Jack are both asleep on the couch anyways.’ You pointed through to the living room. Marcus leant over to have a look, smiling slightly at the sight. 

‘Thank you. I’d appreciate that.’

He took a seat at the kitchen counter. Your old bar stools were a little old and wobbly, but Marcus didn’t seem to notice. If anything, he admired the place. It was cluttered as hell and filled with useless, old items - cook books you didn’t use, random magnets, assorted toys - but it was nice. His house always felt a little cold and clinical. He’d moved a lot over the course of Missy’s life and now that he was retired from the field, he’d sworn to her that their current house was going to be permanent. Whether or not it felt like home was another question entirely. 

‘I would offer you a drink but all I have is..’ you paused, opening the fridge. ‘Nesquik, vodka or apple juice.’

‘You know what? A Nesquik doesn’t sound too bad.’

‘I like your thinking, Moreno.’

After quickly fixing up the two drinks, you slid into the seat beside him and handed him one. You had never in a million years imagined a situation where Marcus Moreno would be in your kitchen drinking chocolate milk, but here we were. It had clearly been a long day for him and you had enough of those to last a lifetime, so you knew how it felt. Coming home after a day that had beat your ass into the ground and having to put on a brave face for your kids was difficult at best. 

‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ You gently asked.

‘Yeah, I’ll be okay - it just always fucks me up a bit.’ Marcus murmured quietly. ‘Hits a little too close to home.’

He wasn’t an idiot. He knew that you knew what had happened to his wife. You knew why he’d retired, and why he and Missy had moved away from their original city six years ago.

‘Sorry, that was too deep-’

‘- it wasn’t!’ You quickly cut him off. ‘I’ve had random women come up to me at pick up time and say they’re sorry to hear about my divorce. People I don’t even know. So really, after that, nothing is too much.’ 

He smiled slightly. ‘They always say they’re sorry but why would you bring up a subject if you have to apologise for it?’

‘Exactly!’ You replied. ‘Especially when I’ve moved on. It’s been a year.’

‘It’s the same with me. Missy and I miss her everyday but we don’t mope about it. We just...we look back with fondness on the good memories we have. You can’t move forward if you’re stuck in the past, no matter how much it sucks.’

‘That’s...that’s wise.’ You blinked in surprise. ‘S’pose that means I should take down the dartboard I have with my ex’s face on.’

‘From what I’ve heard, he seems like he should have more than a dart board.’ Marcus snorted - then he froze. ‘Wait, not that I’ve heard stuff, I mean...I don’t listen-’

‘- Marcus!’ You whacked his arm. ‘It’s fine. One of the other kid’s mums started telling me about the terrible divorce someone was going through but she realised she was gossiping to the one who was going through it.’

‘I don’t know how much of what I’ve been told is true, but it sounds like it was bad.’ His hand hovered over where yours was rested on the counter. 

‘The rumours pretty much get the gist of it.’ You replied. ‘But we were talking about your thing, so I don’t wanna take away from that.’

‘Hey, it’s okay.’ He finally moved his hand, fingers gently curling underneath yours to intertwine them. ‘If even half of the whispers are true, he sounds like an asshole. You and Jack both deserve better than that.’

Whatever people had said, it had sort of covered the gist of it. You’d married too young and had a kid too young - your ex had been a terrible husband and an even worst husband. He’d chastised Jack for being...well, being Jack. He’d stay out late with his friends, spend money on things neither of you needed and tried to make you take the blame for it all. After giving him a few too many chances, you’d finally reached breaking point and kicked him out. Filing for divorce and taking on being a single parent was single-handedly the hardest and bravest thing you’d ever had to do. In a way, you were glad you’d done it when Jack was still so young - he didn’t really understand any of it, even when you’d try to explain it in child friendly terms.

‘I think people judge me for it a little sometimes.’ You confessed. ‘They see me struggling but they know I made the choice to separate from him, like I brought it all on myself.’

‘That’s bullshit.’ Marcus plainly stated. ‘Parenthood isn’t a dependent thing based on whether or not you’re still married to the other parent. It’s unconditional and permanent.’

‘I should tell him that, but I also don’t want him back in our lives.’

‘I know it’s none of my business, but he doesn’t deserve Jack. He’s one of the best and brightest kids I’ve ever met.’

‘Thank you. I’m glad he doesn’t seem like a complete lunatic.’

‘He doesn’t deserve you either.’ Marcus continued. ‘Again, I might be out of place saying this but you are...you’re amazing. I was a wreck when I was suddenly on my own and you’re still holding everything together and working your ass off.’ 

‘You’ve noticed?’ You quirked an eyebrow.

‘Yeah, in passing.’ He admitted. ‘I remember I once saw you carrying three separate science projects at once and then Carol made a passing comment that you were on your own and...I just kinda admired you from afar.’

‘You, Marcus Moreno, admired me?’ You blinked at him in disbelief. ‘I find that hard to believe.’

‘I wish I’d had my shit together half as much as you did when I lost Missy’s mum.’ 

‘But the difference is you didn’t have a choice in your situation. I chose to boot his dad out-’

‘- you gotta stop discrediting yourself.’ He shook his head. ‘And stop blaming yourself. You did what was right for your kid and that is the most admirable thing of all.’

‘You really think so?’

‘I know so.’

The conversation slowly drizzled away, leaving you two to just look at each other. It was hard to tear yourself away from his brown eyes - there was a lot going on behind them. Fear, pain, anguish, admiration. He was one of the most mind-blowingly impressive people you’d ever met; single dad, superhero, electric car owner. He probably didn’t have a mortgage too and that was kinda hot. You were none of those things and yet, here he was, with you, managing to connect on a level that you never had with anyone. Both of your situations were tough, but they’d brought you together. 

Marcus Moreno was pretty fucking fearless (came with the job, you figured), and he wasn’t afraid to make the first move. He slowly inched his head forward and in return, you gravitated towards him. Your lips met halfway in a soft kiss, his hands moving to firmly hold your waist as he pulled you closer.

You almost stumbled out your chair with the movement, but his grip on your hips meant you didn’t slip. Instead, he placed you up on the counter, standing up as he did. It took you a moment to adjust to the position, but with your legs resting on either side of his, you could reach forward and lean on him. You had one hand tangled in his hair and the other on the back of his neck -  you’d surprised yourself with that. It had been months since you’d kissed anyone, but you weren’t as rusty as you thought. 

‘Oh my god, is the superhero gonna be my new dad?!’

Marcus suddenly jumped backwards at the sound of Jack’s voice. He was stood in the doorway, post-nap hair covered by a lopsided Chewbacca hood. His eyes were like dinner plates, even though he was grinning from ear to ear. 

‘Uh...’ you glanced between him and Marcus. ‘We were just...we were...’

‘I had something in my eye.’

‘He had something in his eye.’ You quickly agreed. ‘But now it’s out, so Marcus is gonna go home.’

He knew you didn’t mean it rudely - it was more of a desperation thing. The longer he stayed, the more questions Jack would come out with. Missy could have overheard too and that would have been twice as much to explain. So really, the sooner he got out, the better.

‘Yeah. I’ll uh, I’ll grab Missy.’ Marcus said, scratching the back of his head. ‘Thank you again for looking after her.’

‘You don’t need to keep thanking me.’ You shot back. 

He disappeared into the living room for a moment, reemerging with a sleeping Missy in his arms a moment later. Your eyes met again, and he gave you a soft smile.

‘I’ll call you.’

‘Yeah, sure.’  You nodded. ‘See you, Marcus.’

--

True to character, the next hour was spent being pelted with questions from your over-curious son. He didn’t shut up once when you were bathing him and he got even louder when you were reading him his best time story. On the bright side, you’d managed to get him to change out of his slightly manky Wookiee onesie and into a clean Buzz Lightyear one. Normally, you would have argued that he couldn’t live in pyjamas, but if it kept him quiet? It was a price you were willing to pay. 

‘Night, kiddo.’ You pressed a kiss to his forehead, switching on his nightlight. ‘Remember our deal, yeah? If I buy you a Happy Meal tomorrow, you won’t mention what you saw to any of your friends?’

‘You said library was bad.’

‘No, it’s bribery.’ You corrected him. ‘And do as I say, not as I do.’

‘Sounds bad, but okay.’ He sleepily murmured. ‘Night.’

‘Night.’ You stood up, flicking out his bedroom lights.

‘Wait, mum!’ Jack suddenly sat up, as though he’d remembered something. ‘You never said no.’

‘No to what, buddy?’

‘When I asked if the superhero was my new dad.’

Well, fuck. 

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