#idk if this counts as bellow but it’s Them Together so I’m tagging it

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

Fated (Prologue)

Master List: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin

Pairing: Hades!Bucky x Persephone!Reader

Summary: Humanity has broken the world. How they did it doesn’t matter. What does is that in doing so they quickened the old gods once more. A century later things are settling into a new order but all is not as it seems. As Fate draws two gods together the cracks begin to show in this new age. Will their bond tip the delicate balance or restore order to a broken world?

Warnings: Blood, death (background character)

A/N: I started thinking about a Hades!Bucky character after I saw that @invisibleanonymousmonsters wanted to see a fic centered around a Hades!Bucky and Persephone!Reader relationship. I’ve never done anything like this but I have been dabbling in a Greek pantheon novel for literal years. So I’m sort of using this as an exercise to break out of the rut with that work and to see if I can work with building a “new” character out of the bones of Bucky. It’s an interesting challenge and idk how I feel about it yet but here’s kind of a prologue thing. 

Feedback would be AMAZING because I feel very out of my depth with this. 

Tags are open!

@mywinterwolf  @disagreetoagree @breezy1415 @peachthatdrinkslemonade  @wonderlandmind4 @piensa-bonito @handplucked @katecolleen

He runs his fingers through his long dark hair. Maybe he should cut it. That seemed to be the style men preferred these days. Short on the sides, almost to the scalp, length on top. No, he liked it long. The preferences of men never did interest him as it did his brothers.

Looking down at the dark navy and gold workings of his metal left hand he’s once again impressed by his nephew’s skill. Not a single hair snagged in the delicate joints. It brings a smile to his face knowing the care that was put into it. More care than Heph’s parent’s ever showed the boy. Well… he wasn’t a boy anymore, was he? Hadn’t been for millennia.

He sighs and looks in the mirror. Striking blue eyes flash under strong dark brows, a hard mouth, dark thick stubble not quite enough to be called a beard covering a sharp jaw. It had been almost a century since the gods awoke, the cold Ichor being brought back to blazing light by the hubris of men. Yet even after all these years, he was still settling into the feelings of once again being flesh. Still trying to see himself in the glass.

“James,” he intones. Would it ever feel quite right on his tongue? It was as good a name as any and certainly was more palatable to modern tongues than other names he had worn throughout his long existence like Aidoneus, Pluton (which had always been his least favorite), and of course Hades. James, was unremarkable, just like he liked it.

Heavily he sighs running the fingers of his right hand over the scars that connected metal and flesh. Like the name, it was a good body. Though battle-scarred and broken even in such a short amount of time. There were always battles to be fought. They would always call on him to fight them. After all… shouldn’t a god of Death herself be thrilled to be in the midst of a battlefield…

He sneers at his own reflection. No. He never wanted to be Death’s agent among the celestial beings of the earth. He took the title because his brothers would have rent the heaven’s and made the cosmos bleed in order to avoid the yoke of responsibility being Death’s consort gave one.

What did it matter? Choice, was never a boon he was granted.  

Sensing their master’s distress Cerberus paws at the door. The low whine from each dog perfectly in tune making it sound like one. He can’t help the smile that rises to his face. If nothing else at least fate had seen fit to give him his companion.

He opens the door and kneels down to the three massive black hounds, “I’m ok, boy.” Happily, they lap at his face. Though by all appearances they were three separate beings it was nothing but a clever glamour. Humans had adapted faster than expected to gods among them but a three-headed hell hound was rightfully unnerving to most.

With his signature perfect timing his brother’s obnoxious voice chimes in from the ether. “How’s my perpetually gloomy older brother today?” A wavering image hovers over the obsidian scrying disk revealing that fucking smug smile.

“Not in the mood for whatever bullshit you have in mind Zeu-“

“Anthony, remember. We are doing the whole use modern names thing aren’t we? I get yours right every time Jimmy. It hurts that yo-”

James’ skin crawls. “It’s James.”

“Ever the ray of sunshine.”

“Hey, Brother!” Pos- er Steven’s golden head pops up from behind Anthony. He always had a soft spot for this one. Even if he was inarguably the moodier of the three no matter what Anthony said about James.

“If the two of you are calling it can’t be good,” he groans and falls onto the bed, the image of his brothers switching to the ceiling to stay in his line of sight.

“Just thought we’d check in on you bruv!” Anthony had a thing for human slang. It was obnoxious.

“Yeah. Sure you are.”

“Just tell him,” Steven hisses at Anthony.

“Well… there is something. A bit of a skirmish is kicking up in the midwest, some factions and a demi-god, not one of mine,” his brother was known for his messy children so the distinction was warranted.

“And you want good ol’ Hades to put the fear of Death in them?” They both smile like idiots. He groans again, louder. All he wanted was to be left alone. Was it too much to ask?

“If you could,” Steven pipes up. “If you’re not too busy. I’ve got a lot on my plate and Anthony-“

“I’ve been whipping together some new toys. Speaking of how’s the new arm?”

“Your kid did a great job, almost as good of a job as you did blowing it off.” James wanted to be sure his brother never forgot.

“It was almost a century ago. Let it go.” Anthony’s voice is wheedling. It’s all the more annoying because his brother was notoriously terrible at letting anything go… ever.

“I’ll take care of it,” not like he had a choice.

“Thanks,” they call out, almost as in tune as Cerberus.

“Yeah.” He doesn’t let them say anything else, swiping his hand in the air to break the connection.

Sighing he sits up and flexes his arm, looking at how the light reflects on the surface. The humans used to depict death with a scythe. How long would it take for them to change the image to a dark man with a deadly arm instead? Not long he figured. Fear was a powerful thing.

And everyone feared Death.

You stare at your hands, bloody and shaking. The child shrieks behind you as Mother and Calli tend to its tiny form. It would live. Another orphan among thousands… millions on this broken world but the mother… Desperately her right-hand reaches weaker my the second still longing to feel her child in her arms.

“Kore,” your mother hisses. “Come away. She’s lost.”

But you can’t. Wiping your hands on your clothes you kneel beside the woman and take her reaching hand in your own. Her mouth hangs open as if her words have been stolen from her.

“She is Death’s now,” Calli says softly from the baby’s side. “Leave her be. There is no room for the dead here, child.” You glare at the two women.

They won’t even deign to look behind them at you and the woman. A soft sob comes from her, so faint you almost wonder if you imagined it and your attention returns to her.

“Shh,” you whisper in her ear. “You did your best. Your son will live.” Reaching into your pocket you pull out one of the old smooth coins you always keep. “Here,” you slip it into her hand, “for the ferryman.” Her eyes look like that of a frightened rabbit and your heart hurts. “I’m sorry.”

“That is enough, Kore!” Mother bellows with the force only a goddess can muster. It makes your hair stand on end. She still won’t spare you or the woman a glance. Quickly you kiss the woman’s forehead and rise. “Come tend this new life and stop wasting your time on one that is over.”

“She can hear you still, Mother,” the woman’s small heartbeat still tings in your ears.

“What does it matter?” She’s slipping tiny socks onto the baby boy’s feet. “Humans die every second. We are shepherdesses of life daughter. We don’t sully our hands with death.”

Calli nods in agreement and offers you a warm smile. You don’t return it. Instead, you focus on the child, now quieted by being given a bit of milk with the smallest drop of Ichor to fortify the small thing. Life pulses around him, hot white strands of light, so bright it almost hurts your eyes.

They always thought about life, her mother and Calli. Preserve life. Nurture life. Make things grow, make them thrive, heal this broken earth. They never wanted to talk about from where life came. Never wanted to acknowledge that even a plant must destroy its seed in order to grow. As far as you could tell all life sprung from the death of something else. Even this life you were all living, similar as it was to a distant past, was built on the ashes of humanities fall.

The old unsettling thought rises to your mind. The other gods spoke of ages past but you remembered nothing of those times. Mother said it was simply your youth- the woman makes a small sound, throwing off your train of thought and you know she’s gone.

Suddenly, the room feels too tight. You bolt, ignoring Mother’s call. Your feet echo in the hall as you run, desperate to be outside, to feel the earth beneath your still bloody hands, to breathe air that didn’t smell of birth and death.

Bursting from the doors you stumble into the courtyard, surging with plant life. It’s here too though, you can smell it. The decay from which the life springs. It overwhelms you. Every rose suddenly seems sinister in its beauty, every apple inherently vile.

Something that has been brewing inside you is reaching its peak. This was the fifth maternal death in the last week. And you’d lost count how many you had seen die in such a way over the decades you worked by Calli and your Mother’s side here at Eleusis House. Too many. Some girls you had brought into the world only to see them die years later in the same place they took their first breath.

You stare up at the steeple of the building, once a holy place for some now silent god. Something like a memory tickles at the edges of your mind, songs, a dry cracker being placed on your tongue. Shaking your head you look away. These echoes always came when you were upset. Mother said you were just being dramatic as young goddesses are wont to be from time to time. She’d then tumble into some tale about Hera you didn’t care about hearing.

“Kore?” Abigail stands at the door of the main hall staring at you, concern on her face. It takes a moment to understand why. You’re covered in the gore of a messy birth still and… when you look at your hands you notice the sheen of magic surrounds you. “Are you ok?”

Abigail was a kind person, one of the women who pledged to serve Eleusis House. She and her sisters helped find women who were with child and without resources. They would be safe and cared for here, better than anywhere else. Mother had made this place a haven, clearing a whole block of the city surrounding the compound that was already there to make a small piece of paradise.

The humans thought it was a kindness. Overwhelmed how these new gods cared for their fragile lives so much. You know that without the humans the balance of the world would tip and everyone would die. It wasn’t kindness to protect the humans. It was survival. Still, she liked helping them, and Abigail was something like a friend.

“Yeah. I just… needed some air.”

Abigail looks at your bloody clothing, “Danielle didn’t make it… did she?” Danielle. You hadn’t even known the woman’s name. You just shake your head. Abigail stares into the distance, her gauzy head covering marking her a servant of Demeter blowing in the breeze.

“Her son lives though,” you hope it’s a comfort.

“Small victories are still victories,” she sighs out. Thought creases her brow, “Who will he go to?”

It was March 21st. “He’ll be sent to a house of Ares.” The system had been worked out almost a century before. A crude but effective way to ensure the orphans had a place to belong by sorting them based on birthdate.

Abigail snorts, “And to Hades before 30.” She likely wasn’t wrong. Children of Ares died young, fighting some battle or other. It was the way of things. “I… I’ll tell the others and send someone for the body.”

“Thank you,” Abigail just nods and heads silently back to the main hall.

Your eyes wander to the rise of the skyline peeking over the barrier wall, covered in lush night-blooming vines. To your memory, you had never left this enclave nestled in the city once known as New York. Existence began and ended here for you, though you knew that couldn’t be right. Like all the gods you had lived before only to sleep away centuries… You shudder.

Regardless, it wasn’t a bad life. There was so much work to do. Plants to help heal the scorched earth as well as medicinal herbs for the blights threatening humanity needed to be cultivated and sent out. The women who came here needed shelter, healing, and someone to watch them tear themselves open… For decades you took comfort in this. Now… it wasn’t enough.

This growing awareness of death was bringing everything Mother told you was worth paying attention to in this world into question. Causing a restlessness within you nothing could quell. You begin to pace this section of garden, stopping before a small apple tree.

The golden ones were just about ready to pick and you run your fingers over the thin skin of the fruit. You can feel the glowing tendrils of light within it, connecting it to the tree, to the roots, to the earth herself. Life bright and beautiful pulsing there.

Your mind goes foggy for a moment. It’s as though something else takes hold of you then and you begin to pluck at those strands of light with an invisible hand. One by one they snap. Little rivulets of light like blood drip from the withering fruit down your palm.

When you fully realize what you’ve done you gasp and pull away. The apple hangs there swaying a bit, shriveled though not necessarily rotten before it falls, devoid of the light it held a moment before, to splatter on the ground below. An instant later, it’s dust. 

What had you done…?

#bucky x reader #Hades!bucky #Persephone!reader #greek gods #hades x persephone #mcu au

[our-smooty]

Flowerbeds and Fertile Soil: Chapter 2

Fandom: Good Omens Rating: Explicit

Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens, )Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer

Tags:  Kidfic, Mpreg kind of, they can choose to present however so idk, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has A Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has A Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has A Vulva (Good Omens), OCs Galor, parenting, using your snake form to avoid confrontation, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Pregnancy, if I missed a tag lemme know

Summary: They could do anything, go anywhere, all without the worry of Above or Bellow making a fuss. Even so, they mostly kept to their little patch of Eden, their cottage and garden and the simple life they’d carved out among the locals. Aziraphale opened a book shop in town, where he only occasionally sold any books (and the ones he did sell, were all modern and stocked specifically for that purpose). Crowley focused his attentions on the garden, and if he occasionally helped their elderly neighbour with her disobedient willow tree, then that was a secret no one needed to know. Lately, however, they had both been feeling rather restless, unbeknownst to each other. Aziraphale tried reorganizing his store, changing the way he tied his bowtie and even ate pizza –something he considered to be far too messy for him personally. Crowley had branched out into birdwatching, and then car maintenance (the human way), and even reading. Nothing scratched the itch for either of them.

Ao3 Link

My Ko-Fi

“Oh Crowley,” the angel moaned right in his ear, breath hot and damp and making the baby hairs near his temple stick down. Crowley was pressed into the bed below Aziraphale, the entirety of his back in contact with glorious, soft skin. The hot hardness of Aziraphale’s cock inside him, splitting him open and really making him feel it. “So good, love, so good for me.”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley moaned into the pillows, canting his hips back, trying to get more of the angel inside him. Aziraphale’s cock was thick and long, hitting all those perfect spots inside. “Aziraphale yes.”

“I’m not going to last dear.” Crowley shuddered and thrust his hips again, trying to force Aziraphale to move. It worked and the angel began pulling back, then thrusting in at a slow, indulgent pace. “You’re so wet for me, so soft.”

“For you, angel, for you--!” And it was true, Crowley had never felt this way with anyone else. He’d had many human partners over the years, some he’d even sort of cared for, but none of them could compare to what he felt for Aziraphale. His love for the angel was a white-hot, burning thing that ate up anything in it's wake. “Take me, take me, take me.”

"I will,” Aziraphale answered darkly, keeping the slow speed but pushing in harder and there--! “I’m going to take everything you can give me Crowley, and then I’m going to give it all back.”

That was a very Aziraphale way of saying he was going to cum inside the demon, filling him up in that way Crowley craved from time to time. Tonight he’d practically begged for it, rutted into Aziraphale’s lap as he read until the angel noticed the dampness seeping from Crowley’s sex onto their trousers. Crowley hadn’t outright said anything, but Aziraphale always seemed to just know what he needed.

“Oh please angel, do it, do it!” Crowley was mindless with pleasure, clawing at the bed and howling as each thrust pummeled his g-spot. His clit barely brushed the bedsheets on the downswing but it didn’t matter, he was going to cum no matter what. Even though he’d already come twice with Aziraphale eating him out and once from his fingers. Whenever Aziraphale took it upon himself to spoil Crowley he always did a very thorough job.

Aziraphale removed his hands from where they’d been pinning Crowley’s arms to the bed to ghost over his hips. One of them cupped the demon’s lower belly, pressing and kneading at the flesh there. Crowley moaned at the added pressure. Though it really shouldn’t have, it shot a bolt of lust through him. There was something about the protectiveness and maybe the possessiveness of the action that made things that much more intense. 

“Built to take me--oh Crowley good Lord you wicked, lovely thing!” Aziraphale was babbling but Crowley didn’t care. He liked hearing Aziraphale’s voice, and he especially liked hearing Aziraphale’s voice say those things. There was a gathering heat in his belly, right under the angel’s hands and he began whining, high pitch and needy.

All of a sudden the only thing he could think about was how it would feel when Aziraphale came inside him. How wet he’d be, the noises, the sticky-satisfied feeling he’d leave behind. How Aziraphale would, possibly, beg to eat him out afterward. What would happen if Crowley, for just one brief second, gave in and tweaked his anatomy, switched a few things on. The mere idea of having something of Aziraphale and him inside him, some proof of their love and their devotion to each other, was enough to make him clench down subconsciously. 

“O-oh Crowley!” Aziraphale stammered his cock thickening and then spilling honestly excessive amounts of cum inside him. Between the pressure of the angel’s hand on his belly and the swelling of the cock inside Crowley felt so full, so full--he couldn’t help but come, convulsing against the sheets with a strangled, low moan. 

The moments between when they came and when Aziraphale pulled out were nothing but warm, contented bliss for Crowley. He couldn’t have cared less about what was going on around him; his mind was stuck somewhere in that gentle, soft place created by the bed and Aziraphale’s weight on his back. He’d been right, things felt downright soaked down there, and the stickiness was more than a little unpleasant. It was worth it though, for a sense of pure satisfaction he felt. Behind him, Aziraphale was nuzzling against his spine, staying as close as possible. 

“Crowley?” the angel hummed, voice sleepy and sated. Crowley wiggled happily, grinding his arse back against the soft cock still pinned there. 

“M’good angel, s’good,” he slurred. There was cum leaking out of him and onto the bedsheets. He reached down to stick a few fingers inside, keeping it there for a little while longer. “Why’d you pull out?”

“I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable, darling,” Aziraphale answered. “Normally you’re so sensitive after.” 

“I am sensitive, that’s what makes it good,” Crowley laughed, shuddering as Aziraphale ghosted his hands over his hips and arse. They could go again, of course they could they weren’t actually human. They could fuck as many times as they wanted in a row without the need to stop and rest if they so chose. It just happened both of them both chose to let themselves be a little more human than the average demon or angle. Eventually, Crowley removed his fingers from his cunt and Aziraphale rolled onto his side, pulling Crowley along with him so they were spooning. 

“Are you tired?” Crowley asked. Sometimes Aziraphale didn’t feel like sleeping, though he did so much more often now that they lived together. Crowley still preferred to sleep on a regular schedule, however, so he always asked before passing out and trapping the angel. 

“Very, you wore me out thoroughly, Crowley,” Aziraphale murmured into Crowley’s hair. It’d come free of the braid the demon normally kept it in and fell in sweaty hanks around his shoulders. Between that and the drying cum between his legs, Crowley was beginning to feel uncomfortable, so with a snap, they were both clean and the bed linens were fresh. 

“Good, wanna sleep with you.” He was already drifting off when he felt Aziraphale shifting behind him, running soft hands up and down his sides. Usually, when they were about to sleep, Aziraphale would go still and silent. Even after 10 years of sporadic sleeping, it didn’t come naturally. But now he was moving, keeping Crowley awake with his constant petting.

“I wanted to ask if you’ve given any more thought to that… thing we talked about a few days ago?” Aziraphale’s voice was still quiet, but much less sleepy than Crowley’s own. 

“What thing?” He was more interested in getting reacquainted with their comfy pillow and sheet set than doing much thinking. The 1000 thread-count sheets had been one of his choices since Aziraphale knew nothing about fabrics outside of his clothes. The colour had been a compromise, a nice earthy green that they could both agree on (though Aziraphale had fought long and hard for tartan, Crowley stood his ground). 

“The, well, the baby thing?”

For a few moments, Crowley could only think about the strange thoughts that had taken over him right as they both climaxed. They’d been nice thoughts, little fantasies he’d planned on keeping to himself. But they were fantasies and he knew that. Apparently the angel couldn’t understand that. 

“Told you no, thought I made that clear,” he said, sobering some and shaking off the afterglow. His desire to snuggle further into the pillows and sheets was immediately crushed; all he could think about was getting away from this conversation. “You said you wouldn’t keep going on about it.”

“But you want the same as me, Crowley, I can feel it!” So much for sleeping in his nice comfy bed. Crowley slithered out from under Aziraphale’s arm and to the edge of the bed. Sure, Azirahale could feel things in the way that angels and demons could feel lots of things others were experiencing, but it was all up to interpretation. Crowley wanted, yes he wanted, but there was a difference between wanting and getting that his angel didn’t seem to understand. “It’s not like you to be scared like this! Id we could just talk--”

“Shut, up!” Crowley seethed, willing his legs not the shake as he left the bed in search of his trousers. Surely there was a bar open somewhere where he could drink himself silly and no one would try and talk to him. Or maybe he could take the Bently out for a drive, burn off all this extra feeling on a long country road.

“I don’t even think this is about Heaven and Hell!” Aziraphale shouted from where he sat on the bed, arms crossed and face ruddy. “Crowley I see how you look at the girls, how you never want to leave after our meetings with them. And I’ve seen you for 6000 years being especially kind of children. I can sense love and you love children. I’ve never known you to let Above or Below stop you from getting something you want. Why now, that we’re finally free to--”

“We are a demon and an angel! Can you even imagine the things Heaven and Hell would do to get their hands on our children? You remember what they did to the Nephilim, yes? How they were destroyed, or turned into monsters haunting the lowest pits of Hell? N-now think, just God-damned think Aziraphale, if that was our kid! I couldn’t live with myself if that happened, or if they came out all wrong because of what I am, or--”

“Because of what you are?” Aziraphale interrupted brown furrowing. “Crowley is this about you being a demon?”

“Of course it’s about me being a demon! We don’t even know if an angel and a demon can… and if we can if the demon bits will work with the angel bits or if they’ll just ruin everything. Oh Somebody what if they turned out s-sick or s-something, because of--” He hadn’t even considered the fact that him being a demon could taint the kid. Or maybe he had, but he hadn’t thought about it because kids could not happen. And if they didn’t happen, he didn’t have to think about how his Fall was still torturing him over 6000 years later. 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale called, getting out of the bed and rushing over to where Crowley had stopped dead in the middle of the room. “Crowley dear calm down!”

“Don’t tell me to bloody calm down! I told you to drop it! And you won’t stop asking! It can’t happen!” He was getting hysterical now. Hadn’t they been over this before? Why did Aziraphale have to keep dragging everything back up? Rubbing what they couldn’t have in his face over and over. There were tears at the corners of his eyes and he wasn’t sure if they were from anger or frustration. Aziraphale stood a few feet away hovering guilty.

“It’s not fair!” Crowley bemoaned through clenched teeth. That was the core of it, wasn’t it? That they could have anything they wanted not, except for this. Because he’d asked questions, stupid questions 6000 years ago. The regret was strong enough to make him gag a little. “If I h-hadn’t Fallen, we could h-have--” 

“Crowley, Crowley, Crowley,” Aziraphale said breathlessly. “I didn’t realize--I’m sorry.” Aziraphale was often a little tone-deaf to situations like that, but he usually knew not to push once Crowley said no. Stupid, headstrong angel, who was moving too fast now?

“I told you we can’t, you said you’d drop it but you aren’t.” He took a deep breath before turning away from the angel to look for his shirt. “You aren’t fucking listening to me, I said we can’t! I can’t! And you going on and on about it isn’t going to change that!”

Aziraphale watched him get dressed silently. It was unusual for the angel to have nothing to say, but then again it was also unusual for Crowley to get this upset. Crowley rarely raised his voice, not in anger at least, and never towards Aziraphale. The fact that he’d gotten close made it abundantly clear that unless one of them backed off, this fight was going to cause some serious damage.

“I think I’m gonna go back to my flat for a while, cool off.” It nearly physically hurt him to say, but it was necessary. If Crowley didn’t put some distance between them now he knew from experience that one of them would say something truly hurtful. But even if it was for the best, it was still extremely difficult.

“O-oh,” Aziraphale whispered, hie eyes immediately beginning to shimmer with unshed tears. Crowley had kept flat for instances like this, where one or both of them needed time to themselves. He hadn’t had to use it very often in the last decade, but there were occasions where one of them felt strongly about something, and the other disagreed, so it had come in handy. The transition from hereditary enemies to lovers wasn’t always as smooth as expected. 

“I’ll be back in a few days, call if you need anything.” Of course he’d answer if Aziraphale needed anything, he wasn’t that mad. The angel wiped at his eyes and nodded glumly. It was a sorry sight, and enough to make Crowley soften a little. “Two days, OK? Just give me some time.”

Aziraphale looked up and offered a sheepish look. “Yes, OK. I’m sorry dearest.” Suddenly he seemed to remember he was completely naked and snapped his fingers so a soft, taupe robe fell around his form. “If you could let me know you’re alright… I would appreciate it.”

Crowley sighed again then snapped his own fingers so he was wearing a full outfit. It was late outside, and getting colder, so he added a jacket and scarf before turning to leave. “I’ll text you, angel. Get some sleep.”

The Bently was, of course, waiting for him in the driveway where he’d left it after running out to pick up lunch. Crowley stalked over to it and flung himself into the drivers seat. Right before he pulled out he saw a swish of the curtains to their bedroom window, then a shock of light hair. It really was hard to stay mad at the angel. But if 10 years of cohabitation and 6000 years of waiting had taught him anything, it was that boundaries were important. And Aziraphale had stamped all over his.

#fanfic #mpreg #tw mpreg #crowziraphale #crowley #amazing #ineffable husbands #good omens #gomens #aziraphale #fbafs

[fanatic-scribe]

A Bottle and Some Cards

Chapter 1/?

Fandom: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (2012)

Word count: 2,484/2,484

Ao3: Here

Characters: Donatello (main), Casey Jones (main), everyone else

Pairing: Donatello/Casey Jones

Warnings: Aged-Up Character, Drinking Games, Slow Burn (kinda)

Ch 1 / / Ch2 (coming soon) / /

Summary:

Ethanol is the intoxicating part of alcohol and its molecules are so small that they can actually pass into the gaps between brain cells. There it can interfere with the neurotransmitters that enable all the brain’s activities. If you drink fast, alcohol will start to flood the brain. Alcohol affects parts of the brain responsible for self-control. And that is why Donatello did all this dumb shit to himself.

A/N: Just something fun I made for the hell of it. There may be other pairings in this but Idk yet.

This work will be tagged with #B&C tmnt

Chapter 1: Salt and Lime

“Pussy.” Mikey huffed at Casey as the human chugged down his cup of beer. Casey stuck out his middle finger as he drank.

“I’d say sensible,” Donnie chimed in, “the dare said to ‘drink a concoction of whatever the opponent makes using whatever they can find in the kitchen.’”

“Yeah so?” The other’s looked at him dumbfounded. Flashes of Mikey’s bizarre “food” concoctions from when he was a young chief, and them too worried to crush his dreams, flash in their minds.

Taking turns they began to reminisce of his old creations. The ‘Squid Oatmeal Pizza.’ that Raph still swears he saw an eye on. But, as Donnie pointed out at the time, “It could be a raisin. You know, from the the...oatmeal...part?” at least that's what the boys keep telling themselves. They ate the entire pizza that night.

And who could forget the ‘Apple Pizza Pie Suprise’ with ‘All the wonders of both pies together with a twist!’ Poor April, who had not yet tried his creations and was too late to hear the turtle’s warnings, found the twist quickly after chewing on the bite only once. The brother’s had watched helplessly as their best friend’s soul left her body to the depths of hell. The pizza part of this creation was a classic Mikey order that she has seen only once; double anchovies, roasted garlic, chocolate, cappuccino pizza. The only thing that had stopped her from spitting it out before Mikey had walked away was the shock of the taste, it had paralyzed her. All she could do was open her mouth to let the food fall onto her plate and push it directly into the trash next to her. None of the brothers could blame her. She remembers her bite having a certain pop to it that she tried many years to forget.

‘Asian cowboy fusion calzone dude!’ Is what had gotten Karai. By this point, Mikey was a better cook, he would make odd foods for himself all the time still but no one had told Karai. She took a small bite that Mikey offered her but immediately spit it out, much to the turtle’s amusement as he was laughing. She found out later that to Mikey “cowboy” meant beans and s’mores and “Asian” meant teriyaki sauce, ginger, and shrimp. Karai learned an important lesson that day, never trust Mikey’s original cooking.

“And that was all him being nice and trying to cook.” Casey added pouring himself another cup of beer, “This would be him making something bad for my dare.” Everyone shuttered thinking about the horrors that could have been. Except for one bubbly laugh.

“Yeah, you’re right dude.” Mikey took a drink from his cup, “I get creative when I’m drunk so I probably would have killed you.” They all chuckled at this, everyone would have rather drunk.

They loved their weekends together because they got to do this, have fun and laugh. April was in college and spent a lot of time studying, even if she came to the lair at least four times a week. Casey wasn’t in college but he had a job at his local ice arena, he helped teach young kids hockey and did general cleaning and maintenance, that kept him pretty busy. Karai was always busy, over the time she took over the Foot Clan had reclaimed their good name but she was still having to deal with certain people still loyal to Shredder or mob bosses who saw her as an easy hit. Even if they were busy they still would try to gather together every weekend to relax and half fun together. This Friday night, with alcohol already clouding their minds, they were playing Truth, Dare or Drink.

Leaning forward Casey took hold of the bottle and spun it, still leaning forward he plucked up a dare card not looking at the words yet. “Wow, Casey Jones picked dare.” Donnie chaffed, “Did not see that one coming.” Casey smiled cheerfully at the turtle with wide eyes, gap teeth, and a middle finger on both hands. There was a chuckle at their banter, Donnie had become comfortable with it and often looked forward to his time with Casey. They had truly become good friends.

As the sound rolling of glass slowly dulled so did everyone’s voice until both were silent. The neck of the bottle pointing, if a bit vaguely, at Donnie. Mikey oohed with excitement like Casey Mikey enjoyed movement rather than talking so he always preferred dares. Hopefully, this dare won’t be a drink instead.

Dramatically, Casey lifted his arm to point at the turtle, “Donatello! The cards dare you to,” He lifted the card up to read aloud, “do a body shot off your opponent.” There was a chorus of laughs and oos from everyone as Donnie shook his head.

“No, no. I’m not doing that. I’ll drink.” Everyone turned to boo him. “BOOO!” he answered.

“Donnie you haven’t done one dare!”

“Mikey, I’ve only gotten one other dare.”

“AND YOU DIDN’T DO IT!” Mikey was having a hard time trying to understand what Donnie didn’t get about this very simple topic. Just before Donnie could say anything Raph leaned forward from his spot on the couch interjecting their argument.

“Hey come on, it's fine. This is Donnie’s choice.” He paused for a second taking a drink from his cup as everyone looked surprised. He smirked as he pulled the cup away, “And he’s choosing to be a fucking killjoy.” There were a few laughs as Donnie just rolled his eyes, he reached for his cup leaning forward from his spot on the floor.

A hand reached out and stopped his wrist, he followed the hand up to April who had walked over to him from her seat next to Karai. She was crouched down sitting on her heels, he ninja training with the other girls must be going great, he had not even heard her move. “Look, Donnie,” He’s heard that tone of voice before, “if you don’t want to do this that’s fine but you had two easy dares. Just have fun no one will make fun of you.”

“Bullshit.”

“Did you see us make fun of anyone else?” Thinking back Donnie could remember everyone laughing at crazy antics but then just more celebrating all together. When Leo had to let Raph draw on his face with a sharpie everyone was laughing, even Leo now sporting a lovely penis across his forehead among other drawings.

Donnie sighed, might as well give the people what they want, “Alright fine I’ll do it.” he said throwing his hands up. Before he could even stand up Casey and Mikey had already hoped up and started moving to the kitchen laughing and cheering. As everyone else stood and made their way to the kitchen Casey was sitting on the table, legs dangling over the sides, shrugging off his jacket and throwing it to the side. Bent over the open fridge Mikey was looking for the tequila Casey had brought over with the beer. The salt and lime already in his hands as Mikey grabbed the chilled bottle and placed the items on the table. Soon the rest of the group joined them at the table just as Casey began to pull his shirt over his head.

Donatello couldn’t help but see how the human had really grown into his frame, as a scientist observes an animal grow and mature. His muscles were more defined from when he was a gangly kid, his abdomen had the defined lines of muscle. His hips made a V just before his pants, this was accented further due to a small patch of hair leading from his belly button to bellow his pants. Donnie realized this felt different than observing and animal grow and mature, ‘Must be the alcohol.’ he thought to himself, because what else could it be? A shout from Mikey quickly shook him from his trance. “Dude, what the hell!”

“What?!”

“What the fuck is on your nipples?!”

The turtle’s had seen Casey shirtless before but something had changed. Now there was a visible bar of metal going through each nub where there hadn’t been last time. “Oh yeah,” Casey chuckled looking at his chest, “I got my nipples pierced.”

“Well, that part is obvious!” Shouted Raph, “When did you do this?”

“A little after the tongue at a shop.” Raph had known about the tongue. They had gotten their tongue piercing done together by Slash. Sure it may have been a ‘teenage at home piercing’ but it was straight and healed up just fine, that was almost a solid year and a half ago. Donnie rolled his eyes as he got to work cutting the lime, being very careful as he could feel his body sway.

“It’s just body modification, lots of humans do it.” Even though his words were indifferent his eye’s lingered on Casey’s chest, a slight amount of dark hair contrasted with the sparkling silver rings. There was something fascinating about it that just drew in Donnie’s attention, they suited Casey.

“Dude, it’s so weird looking!” Mikey reached forward and poked at the human’s nipple. Normally Casey was cool with being randomly touched by Mikey, especially in a party situation like this. However, as soon as he pressed down on Casey the turtle had his hand pushed away as Casey scooted away on the table with a nervous hum, laugh. He had reached up to covering his nipple with his hand and other arm held up to keep Mikey at a distance.

“Whoa! Ok!” There was still a chuckle with his words, “Hey Mikey lets not touch my nipples ok.” There was a questioning look in his eyes as well as everyone else, Casey shrugged, “They made my nipple more sensitive than I'm used too.” There was a slight pinkness in his cheeks as everyone briefly discussed this new topic. Donatello could feel his face heat up as well, ‘Must be from the alcohol.’ he thought.

Raph snatched the lime slice Donnie had cut and ran the fruit next to Casey’s belly button and poured salt over it, the crystals clung to the lime juice on his skin. After much debate, the group decided to pour the shot into the dip made by Casey’s pronounced collar bone when he leaned his head back. It wasn’t enough to fit an entire shot and he wasn’t allowed to move or he would pour the tequila but it made the body shot feel more authentic, whatever that means. Casey complained slightly about the cold fruit and liquor but no one really cared enough to change anything, besides it was already too late to change anything. So Casey just sat there, neck stretched back, leaning on one arm with a lime slice in his mouth waiting on a certain purple-clad turtle.

Donnie stepped between the human's legs a bit reluctantly, they looked at each other, well as best they could without Casey moving his head.  Donnie with his arms crossed, he waited for Casey to back out because surely he would by this point. But he just sat there, lime sticking out of his gap teeth surrounded by a shit-eating grin, Donnie couldn’t let that grin win. After a few more still, silent seconds Donnie took a breath and bent down.

Donatello’s rough tongue ran over the area of salt on the human’s stomach, he could feel Casey tense slightly under his tongue, he could feel the soft, warm skin as it contracted against muscle. Donnie ran over the slight dip were his abs were more defined, he couldn’t taste the human over the tart lime and salt but some animalistic part of him wanted to. Some inner part of his brain wanted to bite the human. Vaguely in the distance, he could hear hoots of encouragement but they were drowned out by the sound of hot blood rushing to his head. Still, they pulled him back to the task at hand, already forgetting his primal thought.

As Donnie stood he rested his hands on either side of Casey on the table, he leaned forward and touched his lips to the human’s collar bone and the tequila. Donnie could have sworn he heard Casey’s breath hitch over the chorus of cheers when his tongue lightly ran over the soft alcohol wet skin. With a loud, almost comically, disruptive slurp Donnie had swallowed the alcohol, it burned his throat but the salt helped.

Moving on, he leaned forward to take the lime from the other’s mouth, he bit down and pulled only to be met with resistance. Casey held onto the lime with a smirk forcing Donnie to play a game of tug o’ war for the lime, very annoying.

The turtle looked up to glare at Casey only to find black eyes already looking at him and it felt like time had frozen. Donnie wondered if he had ever looked at Casey’s eyes. Donnie thought that he had eyes like the deepest water, black and bottomless pools of onyx trying to pull the turtle in. For a moment he thought he could explore those eyes for hours trying to find their end and never get tired.

Snapped out of his daze by Casey letting go of the lime causing Donnie to stumble back from his own tugging. This earned a chuckle from the group followed by pats on his shell and congratulations. Smiling and laughing with everyone he couldn’t help but feel his heart beat faster and harder in his chest. He glanced over at Casey and saw him putting his shirt back on and laughing with Raph about how he jumped off the table and almost fall.

Everyone was using this time to talk about what had been happening in the game and to grab more snacks and drinks. Also to pet Ice Cream Kitty, like a lot. A few people cried. Petting Ice Cream Kitty is serious business. Donnie was pouring bags of snacks into different bowls when his eye’s drifted to Casey once or twice, looking for something. He was standing in front of the open freezer having just put whipped cream on the sugary cat, he then tipped his head back to fill his mouth with whipped cream. Donnie watched as his long neck stretched back, Donnie remembered how soft his skin felt against the harsh salt taste. A more animalistic part of his brain said something but it was muffled in the back of his mind.

“Don, you ok?” April’s voice pulled him out of his daze and he realized he has spilled quite a few pretzels.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine just lost focus.” He smiled and worked to clean up the spilled pretzels. Why was he so fascinated by Casey?

‘Must be from the alcohol.’ he thought.

Notes:

Hope you liked it! I know nothing happened yet. Bummer. Well, the next chapter will be coming soon! Sometime next week Maybe

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