#and he's one of those kids with a really big really round head. which is hilarious

[gomzdrawfr]

hey for no reason. if Raven was a car,, what type and colour of car do you think she would be…?

I had to delete a whole paragraph cuz in the midst of my delusions I thought you were asking what kind of car she would be (my answer was Aston Martin DB5 - dont judge I really love that car since I was a kid okay and I think she'll look cool as hell as one - and Porsche 914/6 shade 1110)

The simplest answers are black, silver and dark blue

I love really shiny coatings BUT personally I think for Raven her coating might lean more towards matte finish (look up satin black cellulose paint)

There are wayyyyy too many silver shade out there but lemme tell ya nothing beats a good ol bright silver metallic paint, I don't think the ones that are leaning towards pearl shades would suit her (slightly yellowish - look up Malaysia's Civic and BR-V in Platinum White Pearl Colour)

This one is oddly specific (and can you imagine I know this brand bcuz years ago Jeffrey Star's car paint job used one of these brands) but like cyborg blue or blue demon looks so hot (yay sparkles!!)

If we wanna talk about sparkles and fancy schmancy (but less durability) stuff it'd be vinyl wrap....like the gradients one ooooooo I think Raven would look so good with purple to blue matte kind OR OR the black to blue on the hood...

[sp0o0kylights]

Eddie was terrifying. 

Elliot had known the guy for a few years now, ever since Eddie had stepped into the Spellbound Bar with big eyes and a wild grin. The guy hailed from some small ass town in Indiana, but it was clear to see that he hadn’t hidden much of himself over there. 

So many kids blew into California freshly freed from their families, still dressed in clothes their old life had forced them to wear. They always had a sort of fragile, reborn look to them that made all the elder queers reach out their hands, welcome them in. 

Eddie, whose last name changed on a daily basis (his drivers license listed it as ‘Henderson’ but there were rumors that it too, was fake)  had too large of a wardrobe for all of it to be recently purchased, and moved too comfortably in clothes for them to be new to him. 

The guy wasn’t mean. His temperment wasn’t why he was terrifying, really, though the constant high energy he whirlwinded around the bar with often grew too much for some of their quieter regulars. 

No it was all the shit he casually talked about. How he took things in stride, and said he had to, given he used to be the president of a D&D club he named Hellfire. 

(Hellfire. In small town America. The sheer fucking balls on this dude.) 

He regaled them all with tales of his lost sheep and the fights he had with his high school principal long before Angel, the bar owner, agreed to take him on as a busboy--then bar back, then bartender, all in rapid succession.

Always winking as he spun a story about how he was caught flagging once from an out of towner stopping by for gas, the story somehow darkly hilarious. 

A lot of people didn’t like southern California, or rather, not the way they thought they would at least, but Eddie took to it like a duck to water. There was no denying the man belonged here, in a way he hadn’t truly belonged anywhere else. 

Elliot had been the one to help him find a local metal band. He himself was one of those quieter regulars (and not a musician let alone a metalhead) but he knew people. Could make some connections.

It helped that Elliot did play D&D, and was quick to pull Eddie into his orbit that way. Get him connected to others who loved the game like the metalhead clearly did. 

And damn, could Eddie DM.

It was here though, that Elliot first picked up that Eddie’s bluster wasn’t just that. 

Watched as his new friend's eyes went hard and flat when the Vecna campaign was mentioned, shut it down with such force that it left the table briefly stunned by the sheer venom in his voice. 

How he flinched once, hands reaching for the bat he’d hammered nails into under the bar when electricity had stuttered in a heatwave, lights flickering in the bar. 

(The bat itself, and the way Eddie had simply looked at the one Spellbound had as their only defense measure and declared it “fucking useless” had not helped the rough, survivalistic story they were all putting together.) 

Winter rolled back round to spring and then summer and whispers about his home life, about how he had to survive with all the rural cow farmers looking and acting like he did, how he obviously knew how to fight was practically old news by the time he first showed up in a cropped shirt. 

The scars that decorated his stomach still caught the attention of everyone at the bar, and more than once their little D&D group had tried to map out the shape of them, if only to figure out what the hell could cause such a dramatic injury. 

No one ever quite succeeded, but then, no one was brave enough to ask the man himself. 

What it did do, was cement the idea in everyone’s heads. 

Eddie Henderson/Buckley/Sinclair/Wheeler/and one time even Walmart--was a great guy, and one who could absolutely beat the shit out of almost everyone in the bar, hands down. 

Nothing he did over the years ever challenged that. If anything, Eddie only cemented it further, which is the only reason Elliot didn’t bolt the second the two of them came home from a shift and found a stranger in front of their door. 

Elliot, 5’4, formerly named Eleanor and still not on T despite making every clawing attempt towards it, wasn’t much of a match for an enraged, pissed off jock. 

But Eddie was. 

xXx 

The jock was the straightest looking man Elliot had ever laid eyes on. 

Bruises covered half his face and one eye, and he sported a nose that had clearly been recently bloodied. Judging from the scrapes on the back of his hands he hadn’t gotten them willingly--or maybe was just giving as good as he got. 

He was walking wildly back and forth in front of their garage, hands opening and closing, a look in his eyes that spoke of someone not entirely in control as he muttered audibly to himself. 

Given the preppy polo shirt, expensive looking shorts and shoes that practically shined, they were so new, he was comically out of place, even with the entire homicidal aura he had going on. 

(Given the descriptions of the assholes who had attacked Angel only four nights ago on their walk home, Elliot could only see the man as a monster preparing to attack.) 

He slammed to a stop, breath in his throat, entirely unsure of what to do.

Thankfully, Eddie was right behind him. 

Eddie, who could probably beat this guy and six others bloody. Eddie who carried a knife. Eddie who terrified Elliot sometimes, but not the same way the idea of getting hate crimed did, Eddie who--

Who was coming up besides Elliot, looking both alarmed and confused and not at all challenging the homicidal rich boy. 

“Steve!?” Eddie said, voice high and surprised.

They both watched as the figure spun to face them, crazed look crumbling down to something Elliot couldn’t read. 

“Hey.” The supposed Steve said, rather miserably, shoulders hunched right before Eddie shot forward, hands hovering in the air like he wanted to touch but didn’t know where to start. 

“What the hell Harrington--did you lose another fight!?”

“I don’t lose every fight you know.” Steve snarked back, sounding exactly like every rich snob Elliot’s ever encountered. 

It’d get his back up, except Steve’s entire body was curving towards Eddie in obvious relief. “Henderson exaggerates.” 

Which was doubly confusing, given Eddie was supposedly a Henderson.

“Sorry for dropping by like this. Wasn’t close to anyone else, so I didn't know where else to go.” Steve continued, as Eddie finally stopped waving his hands around and instead began herding Steve through the door and to the kitchen. 

Confused, Elliot followed.

(What the fuck else was he supposed to do?) 

“I thought you were on a cruise?”  Eddie challenged, sounding more and more normal as he and Steve traded banter. 

“I was. Clearly, I’m not anymore.” 

“Steve.” Eddie said, voice almost pleading as he patted the only empty spot on their counter, before turning to fish a bag of peas out of the fridge. 

(Had Elliot ever heard him plead like that? Had he thought Eddie even capable?) 

Steve jumped up on it like a dog that had been asked to perform a trick, while Elliot hovered in the living room, watching it all go down across the little half wall that separated the two spaces. 

“Did I just see pop tarts in your freezer?” Steve asked instead of answering. 

“Don’t distract me, you dick. Put this on your face.” 

And so they went, instantly and immediately comfortable, two people who clearly had known each other for a long time trading insults and catching up while Eddie tried unsuccessfully to pull what happened out of Steve via an increasing number of ridiculous nicknames. 

He’d worked his way past ‘Stevie’ and was well on his way to calling the stranger things like ‘big boy’ by the time Anders came home from her shift at the record store. 

Swaned through various other, mildly incriminating nicknames until he saw something that made him start cursing, at which point he rapidly fell down the nickname rabbit hole, landing at a final; 

“Come on Sweetheart, you look like someone tried to kill you! Just tell me what happened!”

Jake, who had just waltzed in the front door, blinked wildly. 

“Eddie has a guest.” Anders informed him, handing their roommate an open beer from the pile she’d put on the floor as he slammed to a halt. 

Took in their intruder so starkly out of place on the kitchen counter, nestled between twin pride flags and a poster for Eddie’s band like a misplaced catalog model.

“I don’t understand what’s happening.” Jake said flatly, as Steve grumbled something lowly at their fearless DM, and Eddie flicked his nose in retaliation. 

"He's from Indiana," Elliot offered, the closest thing to an explanation he had. "Same town as Eddie."

He hesitated, then added, "I think."

It was all he’d managed to piece together, the conversation had been all over the place.

“Steven Madonna Harrington,” Eddie snapped finally, spinning to pin his guest with a glare, “you either tell me what happened or I’m calling Robin.” 

‘Madonna?’ Anders mouthed at Elliot, as if that was the weirdest part of this entire situation. 

Steve kicked at Eddie lightly. “She has finals this week you jerk.”

Eddie slammed both his hands down on the counter, one on either side of Steve’s hips, staring up challengingly. 

It put him almost directly in between Steve’s legs, bringing their faces intimately close together. 

“And she’s gonna lose her shit when she finds out her platonic with a capital P soulmate ditched off that family cruise he’s been dreading for months, looking like he decided to take up backyard boxing, and then came to my place instead of calling her first--” 

“Fine! Fine, you underhanded asshole. Tommy was on that stupid Alaska cruise. Decided he wanted to reconnect.” 

“Hagan did all this!?” 

“Oh no, this is from my dad.” Steve motioned to himself, a grim sort of amusement curling around the words. “He caught me and Tommy making out. Decided to have a little chat about how he disapproved.” 

“That is awful and we are returning to it immediately but first--Steve. Babe.” Eddie stared at him in clear dismay. “Tommy Hagan?”

Another eye roll, this one earning a wince from Steve as it agitated his bruises. “Not the time Mun--” 

Eddie coughed loudly right over the rest of whatever Steve was about to say, getting a weird look from everyone around him. 

���Henderson.” Eddie corrected softly. “They changed it to Henderson after all the uh.” He paused, as though trying to recall the word he wanted. Went with; “Earthquake.” 

That got some glee out of Steve. 

“You picked Dustin’s last name? Does he know?” 

“Fuck no dude, he’d never shut up about it.” Eddie put a hand on Steve’s thigh, jostling it lightly. “We’re not talking about me right now though. Your dad disowned you?”

“Supposedly.” Steve shrugged, like this was normal and not a huge ordeal. “I’ll check on my credit cards tomorrow, see if he’s serious.” 

Eddie’s stare was growing flat, fast. “Even if he isn’t, he beat the shit out of you.” 

“Yeah, well, everyone kinda does, I guess it was just his turn.” 

“Steve.”

“I’m kidding!” Then, in a far more serious tone; ‘I am sorry about crashing in like this. I can get out of your hair.” 

Eddie was already waiving a hand dismissively, head shaking, but Steve plowed forward anyway. 

“I mean it. The cruise stopped at a port near here and I needed to get off it before my dad decided disowning me and throwing all my shit over the rails weren’t enough.” 

Steve finally looked up, taking in all the people who were watching this play out like a TV sitcom. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your game night.” 

“There’s no game, they all live here.” He turned and glared, and got one embarrassed face and two entirely unapologetic ones in return. “They’re just enjoying the show.

‘It’s getting a five star rating so far.” Anders snarked at him. “Might lose a star, if one of the main actors keeps breaking the fourth wall, though.” 

Eddie flipped her off. 

“You’re not going anywhere looking like this. You are at minimum, staying here for the rest of the weekend.” 

“If you’re sure.” Steve said hesitantly. To the group at large, he added; “And no one minds me taking the couch.” 

“The couch is a shared communal space.” Eddie shot back instantly, before anyone else could protest. “You’re staying in my room.” 

“Oh.” Steve said, like he’d half expected, wanted even, Eddie to make that offer. “Okay.” 

“I am so confused right now.” Anders muttered, and Elliot could only nod along because, well. 

Yeah. 

Him too. 

“Come on, let’s get your stuff, I’ll show you around. Keep the peas on your face.”

“Eds, man, I don’t have any stuff. I was lucky to escape with my wallet.” Steve vollied, but hopped off the counter anyway, following Eddie as he was led up the stairs, towards the metalheads room. 

“This is the weirdest day of my life.” Jake announced when they’d disappeared. 

“It’s not over yet.” Anders said, cracking open another beer.  “Give it a bit.” 

“How on earth could this get any weirder?” Elliot muttered. 

“Well thanks Elliot.” Anders told him flatly. ‘If it wasn’t guaranteed before, it is now.” 

“How!?”

“She’s right bud, you challenged the fates.” Jake responded. “We’re in for it now.” 

(Given Steve never moved back out, they absolutely were.) 

Bonus

“You know.” Eddie said, and his voice was quiet but the house was fucking ancient and not in the best of shape, and thus Elliot heard him loud and clear through their shared wall. “I kiss a lot better than Tommy Hagan.”

“Not letting that one go anytime soon, huh?” Steve rumbled back. 

“I’m just saying! If you’re going to get disowned for a kiss, it should be a damn good one and not whatever limp noodle bullshit Hagan does. I saw him with Carol, he kisses like a puffer fish.” 

A low snicker, followed by; “He did kinda kiss like a fish.”

“See!?” Vindicated, Eddie grew louder in volume. “I could give you a kiss that would actually be worth all this shit! A proper kiss!” 

“You offering, Munson?”

“Well if the good knight Sir Harrington doth allow it--”

An ‘mmph!’ noise that took a moment for Elliot to translate as Steve kissing Eddie, which made this entire fucking day suddenly make a whole lot more sense. 

“If you stop all the nerd talk we can take it beyond a kiss.” 

“I can do that.” Eddie said, voice breathless. “I can definitely do that.” 

“Good.” 

Elliot snorted in amusement, before reality of their paper thin shared wall and the fact he was going to hear fucking everything asserted itself. 

He decided to go sleep on the couch.

[on-the-clear-blue]

Dead Man's Diner pt 4

"THOSE FUCKING BITCHES SAM!" Danny shouted as he stormed into his apartment, slinging his backpack off by the door as he toes his shoes off.

Rounding the corner of the hallway, Danny was met with Tucker, shirtless with only a pair of plaid boxers on, staring at him with sleep glazed eyes, he had a box of cereal in one hand, and a bottle of oat milk in the other, raising the bottle in a salute, Tucker stuffed a handful of cereal into his mouth before taking a swig of the milk, holding up a hand to stop Danny from speaking as he chewed, only letting his hand fall before he spoke.

"What?"

"The Bats are fucking assholes!"

Tucker looked back at the bottle of oat milk, sighed and placed it back in the refrigerator, chucking the box of cereal on the counter, Tucker grabbed Danny by the shoulders.

"Of course they are Jerks Danny..." his grip tightened as he started to shake the Halfa, "I have ten deadlines and 5 missed calls, I really want to geek out right now about you meeting the local heroes but I really don't have the time, so yes, jerks, tell me about it later okay?"

Danny phased through the tough grip on his shoulders, letting out a giggle as he watched Tucker fumble as he no longer had someone to help steady himself, "I did yell specifically for Sam, Tuck so you can't get mad at me! Go huant the Wanyetech building, I know for sure those dudes are way more dead inside than I am!"

Getting a groan from his friend at his dead pun, Danny continued into the apartment, snatching Tuckers cereal box off the counter as he went to sit in the living room.

Spotting Sam typing something on a lap top, her big over the ear headphones blaring as he flops down next to her, which thankfully was enough for her to notice him.

Offering g the box of cereal to her, she sent him a tired smile as she slipped the head phones off and took some of the fruit flavored rings, "Hey there Deadstuff...how was work?"

Danny sent her a grin, "Well, Clocky decided to throw me a bone and I think I got this? He is a little bitch boy that sends me all over the place but this time it was a dined, Lunch Lady taught me how to cook." Pasuing to stuff a new handful of tasty fruity goodness, Danny spoke around the cereal in his mouth "Cookin' ish so much more cool when da food isn't trying to kill you"

Slapping Danny's arm as she rolled her "Don't eat with your mind full and tell me what got you so riled up" Sliding her laptop of her self she tucked her knees up before stretching them out over Danny, who was already going off on his story.

"Wait wait! You had Nightwing in you're restaurant and you didn't get me an autograph?" Same shot Danny a scowl, who at least had the decency to look sorry

"I was going to but they fucking dined and dashed Sam! Even when I was actively Phantom, I never, ever just left a bill!"

---

Dick knew that perhaps eating the food was a slightly bad idea, given the look B gave them when him and Tim pulled into the Cave.

He was standing there, arms crossed, thankfully cowl down, what made the sight infinitely less intimidating was Damian doing the same next to him, his head tilted to look down at them and perhaps standing on his tittpy toes a little bit.

Dick wanted to coo at the father son bonding, but remembered he had to act at least a little chastised at the moment "Yes I am sorry B, It was my decision to head in, there was no outward danger so we just took a chance."

Wincing at the gruff grunt he got from that Dick powered on, "I will write a more detailed report, but personally if anything wrong it's likely that the kid working there is Meta? I dont-"

"He can't be meta! He is very clearly a ghost Dick!" Tim interrupted already flipping through some notes he had made on the way back home, "its the only explanation...or he is a 5th dimensional Imp with a passion for cooking but I really hope not those guys suck to deal with..."

Dick nodded at that, but had to say some thing foe his own superfan imp "Nightmite is a chill dude helps sometimes with cases back in Bludhaven!"

Giving a sigh, Bruce rubbed the bridge of his nose, "No mites, no metas, no ghost, go to Medbay I am running blood tests on what sweet hell you have ingested."

---

Bruce ran the test again, sure that it was wrong, praying that it was wrong.

TEST COMPLETE

TRACE LAZARUS WATERS DETECTED

Underneath was lists of chemical make ups of the samples Tim took and his sons blood, there were varying levels through out the food samples, some lighter but others were heavy on it.

What was stumping him was...it was nearly perfectly pure, the pits naturally over time get polluted, with the dirt and sediment that falls in, and with the various amounts of bodily parts and fluids that are dipped in it.

But the trace amounts Bruce was finding were a better quality than Ra's own personal pool, not the one he dips in to regain his youth that the LOA make a ritual out of, no the privet one in the Alps that was clear as glacial water.

It didn't make any sense to Bruce, who would be spreading Lazarus water around? Ra's would not simply share his secret pure stash...

Lost in thought, Bruce sat back glaring at the test results.

---

"And after I thought I was giving great service, they fucking left, no bill, no tip! I didn't even get to see Nightwings ass as he left! People say it's a godly experience! I was robbed!" Letting out a huff Danny shot Sam an incredulous look at her sudden burst of laughter. "Sa~am, this isn't funny! Never meet your heroes! I am taking this to Twitter! They shall know my fury!" His words only served to make Sam laugh even harder.

Stifling a grin Danny took out hos phone, a old busted thing that was more ducktape and prayers than actual technology, but dear go's did it still work.

<@i-haunt-spirit-holloween

[@.realwing @not-that-red-robin.real yall are toxic twinks came in to my workplace and fucking dined and dashed 0/10 Nightwing has a flat ass.]

Hitting send, Danny put his phone down, choosing to let the nights happenings go past his mind and just hang out with Sam before showering and finally going to bed.

---

Tim was hunched over his lap top, going frame by frame of his body cam footage, he *needed* to figure this out, it was like an itch in his brain that he would go through bone to get through.

His work payed off as he clicked forward another time, his feed went static before it showed a blurry blue blob in place of the diner! Proof! It was there!

Jumping at the sudden bang of his bedroom door being thrown open, Tim whirled to around to see Dicks distressed face, standing up, Tim prepared for the worst, something happened. Bruce was dead agian it had to be-

"TIMMY I AM A TWINK AM I??" Was Dicks wail as he flopped down on Tim's bed.

Letting out a shuddering sigh, Tim looked longingly at his laptop before closing it, "Dick, what the fuck."

Rolling around on the bed, Dick finally looked up at Tim "Littlewing sent me a tweet and...ugh just look!" Thrusting out his phone as he spoke

Pasuing at the mention of Jason, Tim  looked down at the screen and froze

"Holy shit...we forgot to pay didn't we...fuck Jason is never going to let us live that down."

Tim still remembered the first time he witnessed one of Jason's famous "make Bruce spend more money" rants about tipping.

It was glorious.

Tim now realized he would be one of two that was likely going to have to face it next.

"UGH?? You focus on the money and not the other parts? Tim I was called a toxic twink with no ass! This is a declaration of war! I have never been so offended!" Dick sat up, eyes narrowd while Tim opened up the tweet on his own phone.

"The comments agree Dick, I am sorry, you now have a flat ass congrats and welcome to the club" Tim said dryly, trying to go to the posters page, since it was clearly Danny who posted it.

Only the app crashed when he tried to. And again when he tried to a second time, and his web browser crashed when he tried opening it there

Tim was baffled on what was happening while Dick lemented on his bed before deciding to hack it later.

<@not-that-red-robin.real

[@i-haunt-spirit-holloween super sorry about that send me venmo and I'll pay with tip]

<@i-haunt-spirit-holloween

[@not-that-red-robin.real Fuck that face me like a coward bitch bet you wont]

<@not-that-red-robin.real

[@i-haunt-spirit-holloween...bet]

---

Somewhere in a safe house in Crime Ally, Jason let out a little giggled as he scrolled through the comments on the funniest post he had found in a while, Jason was surely going to have to speak to Timberly and Dickiebird about paying their bills but right now?

He was kicking his feet watching Dick have a public meltdown as Nightwing.

Finally, he wouldn't be the only one who had to retake the Bat Media course.

How was he supposed to know doing peace signs next to a person he just shot wasn't allowed?

[ehlnofay]

yesterday I was assigned to go sign in the gaggle of thirty odd kindy kids and one little boy started to cry (missing his parents) so I crouched down next to him to go Ahh, mate, what's wrong. he gets half of a little wail out before he looked up at me and was immediately so fascinated by my hair ("It's green! Like grass!" and wanting to rub his hands on it) that he was in a great mood after that. fully distracted. did not cry for the rest of the afternoon. a resounding success

dyed my hair radioactively bright green again. very excited to see how the children react

[strwbrrykthv]

pt 2 to this story, but can be read alone. sorry it took so long i have a full time big girl job. and i need like a crazy amount of motivation. this ones big cheesy bc theyre drunk. not proofread!!!

cw: alcohol, sexual tension if u squint

katsuki assumed the group was going to one of those karaoke bars with the private rooms where its just your friend group cheering each other on, so imagine his surprise when sero and denki lead them to this american style bar with a bright led sign that reads ‘open mic karaoke night.’

“you have got to be kidding me” he grumbles as he pushes the door open to reveal an almost filled bar. “theres just a bunch of drunk middle aged people here.”

“katsuki be nice. denks said he really likes this place,” you scold him from his right, still connected to his side.

“yo guys theres a couple of tables up front by the stage. im going to go order a round of shots if you want to head up there and start warming up your voice,” sero winks which causes katsuki to groan again, even louder. as you make your way to the tables, mina pulls you towards her the table she’s sat at leaving katsuki to sit beside denki… again.

as the night continues and drinks are ordered, you finally get the courage to request a song. its a duet and luckily sero agrees to do it with you. your friends are cheering you on as slur through the lyrics of neva play by megan thee stallion.

the only line you say fully is “three things i don’t play about, myself, my money, or my man,” as you point at katsuki who just nods at the proclamation that he is, in fact, your man.

the song ends, and you make your way down to your seat that is opposite his as his eyes follow you. they don’t leave you even as izuku and ochaco sing some love song. he doesn’t care if youre not looking back at him, his favorite thing to do is just watch you, especially when hes got a few drinks in his system. which, honestly, makes him sound like a creep, but you know the difference between feeling his gaze on you and feeling a sleaze balls watching you.

you’re pretty much at your limit when mina orders another round of shots for both of your tables, and instead of being happy you feel your mouth instinctively fill with saliva.

katsuki could read your body language like book, so as they were handing out the shots he quickly took his and got up to go to you. “hey, mama, how about i take this shot, then sing that dumb song with the guys, and then we go home? how does that sound?”

he may not be slurring, but hes very close to being more drunk than hes ever been in public. he knows your shot plus his is what will probably throw him over that edge, but he doesn’t want your night to be ruined by throwing up in the bathroom.

you blink up at him and nod slowly. in your drunken daze you are just so mesmerized by him. his soft red eyes, his spiky hair thats fallen just a little, the scar on his face that only you get to touch, his shoulders…. yeah you really want to go home.

he grabs the glass from the table, but you stop him, “wait, can i give it to you?” you ask as you’re reaching for the glass. he doesnt respond, just lets you take the glass from his hand.

he knows all of your shared friends are watching because they can sense the shift in energy between you two. you stand from your chair as katsuki sinks to his knees in the grimy bar. you hold his jaw with one hand as he opens his mouth for you to pour the shot, never breaking eye contact.

he returns to his full towering height after swallowing the shot and turns to look at all of your friends who just watched the interaction with wide eyes and mouths open in shock. you reach up to swipe away a drop on his chin that managed to miss his mouth with a smile too innocent for what just occurred.

“thank you, suki,” you say as you drop your hand. “now go sing me a song!”

he pats your hip as he moves past you to stand on the stage next to kirishima, sero, and kaminari who picked the song. he feels a little more buzzed than before after standing up and moving, and he’s almost positive he’s going to slur around the words when it’s his turn.

youre halfway paying attention, just watching katsuki as grabs a mic when you hear the first notes of mr. brightside and burst into laughter. you cannot believe they got him up there without bribing him.

the song continues and you drunkenly wolf whistle after the end of katsuki’s turn. he sends you a middle finger that holds no meaning by the way his ears are red.

the song finishes and he makes his way to where youre seated, reaching a hand out to you. you gladly take it and spring out of your seat stumbling into him causing katsuki to instinctively wrap his free arm around your waist, holding you to him.

“you did amazing up there,” you whisper, “you shouldve been a singer instead of a hero.”

he scoffs as he looks down at you. “yeah? then i wouldve never met you.”

your body buzzes when he talks to you like this. “oh yeah. we wouldve found each other some way. were, like, soulmates.”

katsuki closes his eyes at your words to try and keep his heart from beating so fast. he knows you mean more than just friends soulmates, but he also knows right now the only label the two of you can have is “just friends who sometimes cuddle, sometimes kiss, sometimes do more, and are always together if one of them has a break” type of friends in order to keep you safe.

“mhmm, we are. now, whaddaya say we go home and go to sleep?” he hums.

“yes i would like that a lot. we have to talk everyone bye though.”

“no we don’t. they know youre leaving with me itll be okay.” he says still holding you by the waist but moving to your side to guide you outside to call a taxi.

youre already snoring by the time you arrive at katsukis apartment. he carries you from the car to his door before having to regretfully put you down.

“mama, you awake enough to stand up? i gotta get my keys out.” he asks setting you down beside him near the wall. you just hum with your eyes barely open, watching him.

“i had a lot of fun with you tonight ‘suki. and i know denki only came over to me earlier because he said something to you. i like being with you any way i can and i dont care what our friends say.” youre slurring your words and speaking softly during to sleep threatening to take over.

“and what do our friends say?” he asks opening the door and guiding you inside his apartment and to his bedroom.

“that its dumb to call ourselves friends when we dont do anything just friends do.” youre kicking off your heels and removing your clothes as hes digging in his dresser to find you a shirt to sleep in. “but i dont think its dumb…..”

katsuki just shakes his head as he walks over to you and helps you put the shirt on over your head. “its not,” is all he says.

“no!” youre a little more awake now. “its not! because i know you love me and you know i love you and thats all that matters because everyone else can kiss our asses.” you say with a small smile wrapping your arms around his neck.

“yup. thats right mama. youre all mine and im all yours. now, are you ready to go to bed yet?” he asks while leading you backwards to the bed.

you release him crawling into his bed and waiting for him to follow. he strips down to his boxers while you watch before getting under to covers next to you.

he pulls you in to lay youre head on his chest as your starting to close your eyes.

“if you throw up on me in your sleep im going to kill you” he warns.

but its too late. youre already asleep and you werent going to pay attention to him anyway.

DO NOT COPY OR PLAGIARIZE.

hope you guys liked it and it wasn’t cringe!

[cyber333angel]

I was playing dress to impress on roblox and I was just thinking how quick logan would shut it down if you were playing it at nighttime. like the lobby music at twelve am and everything just interrupting his sleep and you know he don’t play about his sleep — so he just reaches over to you and grabs your waist talking into your back, “turn your phone off and go to sleep bub c’mon. it’s too late to be playing games.” and you just want to play one more round which is probably a lie, so you come up with excuses and he shuts those down too. “but just one more-“ and he really doesn’t have time for the excuses, “nope go to sleep.” he says taking your phone and putting it on your nightstand. you take a big huff, shuffling yourself into his shoulder. “y’re so mean.” and he knows your just saying that became you want to stay up late to play games, which he also doesn’t understand what’s so fun about it, just brushing it off as he holds you close. your head snuggled into his chest, feeling it go up and down—with his faint cigar and musky smell slowly putting you to sleep. “mhm goodnight kid.”

[captainlondonman]

Workie Cruising

Kenny was feeling horny, really horny. One of those hot days when your cock just gets hard and needs some attention. He could always have a good slow wank and watch his cum spray over the washbasin but better still would be to walk down the road to the local forest which was at times a great cruising ground and see who he might have some sex with. Yeah that was definitely a better idea. With his cock nicely stretched down his inside leg forming a decent bulge, it was on full show for whoever he might meet. As he reached the edge of the wood an old white van was parked in the layby. 

‘So at least someone is there looking ‘Kenny thought.

As he came into a small clearing he saw the driver of the van. It was a workie is full yellow HiViz, T shirt, soiled waistcoat, very dirty trousers tucked into mud covered boots. The guy was tall and built like a brick shithouse, tattoos covering both arms, shaved head with a tight beard and  the beginnings of an obvious beer belly pushing out the T shirt which was lifted at the front to show off a dark thick hairy chest. The guy looked very unclean to Kenny, not his type at all. Even when the workie put his large hand down to stroke his crotch showing off a big bulge, Kenny decided to walk on by and see who else might be better for his wank. The workie gave him a V sign and spat. Kenny thought he could get his rocks off with someone else but it would not be with him.

Moving on he came to another small clearing and remembered this was normally a good place where the guys came to shoot their load so he could wait there away from the workie. As he quietly stood there waiting for a pick up, a large tattooed came round his neck almost choking him.

‘What the f.. ‘Kenny tried to shout

‘What the fuck do you think ignoring me and trying to make me look as if I am a bit of shit. ‘The workie tightened his grip. Kenny knew exactly who it was as he felt the HiViz clothing press against his back

Christ the guy stank of body odour, dirt and stale smoke. Kenny wanted to gag but was unable to move or respond by the neck lock he was in. He felt the guy’s beard rub against the side of his face

‘You don’t pass a fucking workie especially when that workie is feeling horny and needing a blow job. Who the fuck do you think you are? A smarmy college kid sporting a decent hard on down his jeans. Well this guy has a bigger one than you mate. Feel it rubbing against that arse of yours?’

As the workie said it, Kenny felt the stiff prick rubbing against him. Shit he was right it was rock hard and big . With his head still in a stranglehold Kenny felt the workie’s other arm move round to his front and slide down to his crotch.

‘I may be almost choking the life out of you but that cock is telling me you love it. Nice and stiff like a fucking rod. Bet you are loving my cock in the HiViz nylon rubbing against you.’

As the workie said this he lessened the grip around Kenny’s throat, causing him to cough loudly and as he took in deep breaths so he still smelt the guy with his mix of stale cigarette smoke and dirt.

‘ou need to open the throat a bit more so you can take my cock all the way down that throat of yours. ‘

Feeling the guy whisper into his ear with the rough beard rubbing against the side of the face made Kenny feel so horny in spite of the fact he had nothing but distaste for the workie. To Kenny he was a pig but shit why was he feeling so excited.

Now get down of your fucking knees and take a good look at that bulge of mine in the Hi Viz.’

As Kenny knelt his face was looking straight at an enormous prick sticking almost straight out of the yellow nylon.

‘Go on give me a fucking rub as I like me cock being rubbed in my hiViz.’

Kenny could only obey but wanted more than ever to unzip and put his hand inside.

‘Well what are you waiting for. Unzip and see my piece of meat.’

As Kenny looked straight at the guy’s crotch and let his hand pull down the zip with difficulty due to the hard bulge his cock was making  he almost reeled back with the smell of stale piss and dried spunk. He wanted to gag and as he brought his head back the workie took hold and rammed his head against the yellow nylon.

‘Don’t you like the way my cock smells. It’s the way we workies are. No underwear so a nice exposed prick whenever we let the piss run down inside our legs and the drops of cum harden nicely. I ain’t washed for a few days so it’s nice and high for you. Take a few deep breaths and enjoy the smell, real workie stink.’

At first Kenny thought he was going to be sick but the more he inhaled the better the smell it was to the point that he was relishing it and his own cock was made more rigid. The fumes of the stale cock spread down through his body, taking over the clean air. He had to get that monster of a cock out of the HiViz and stuck his hand in and let it grip the shaft. He could hardly get his hand around it and he could feel the throbbing veins. With both hands he pulled it out and released it, the cock springing upwards so he could see the underside and the red glistening head exposed from the foreskin. The tip already had a good drop of precum and all Kenny wanted to do was lick that drop and taste the cum and the dirt of the cock.

‘Not bad eh. Us workies have big pricks and always ready for a blow job or a fuck. Always best done in HiVIz. I can see from your face that you love the smell as well as the size of my dick. It’s gonna be even better when down that throat of yours. Quit any idea of gagging, you just breathe deeply and as my cock ain’t been washed for days you have that stink to help. Now get a grip and start.’

Kenny put his hand around the shaft and leant forwards to lick the precum. As he swallowed so he got as much saliva into his mouth so the shaft could have some spit to ease it down. He let his tongue work the throbbing head and allow himself to savour the smell and size..

‘Shit man that tongue of yours has been round a few dicks in its time. I ain’t got all day , got to get back to work so let me feel the back of your throat.’

 As Kenny let more and more of the cock into his mouth so the workie grabbed hold of his head and started pressuring Kenny to take more and more. Instinctively with the soiled cock and the stench , his mouth opened as he wanted to devour the workie’s prick. His mouth opened as never before and the more pressure on his head by the workie the more the shaft vanished further and further down the back of his throat.. 

I wanna feel my pubes against your lips so keep going boy. Remember my cock is not staying put down your throat I want you to move it in and out and slowly at first so I get the full sensation. You will know when I am ready as I will be forcing your head back and forwards. Keep the spit going.’

‘Shit man you have my cock juice building up.’

 With that the workie took and full grip of Kenny’s head and started moving it back and forth at first slowly and then faster and faster. Kenny wanted every inch down his throat and could feel the guy’s cock now throbbing so hard he was close to coming.

‘I want you to swallow every last drop, Know what it’s like to take a workies spunk. That’s it ,fucking take the whole bloody length. Let it spurt all the way down that throat of yours right to the pit of the stomach.’

With one final push the workie shouted ‘Fuckin hell’  and his spunk roared out in waves of thick creamy cum with Kenny desperately trying to swallow as much as he could. It was too much to take and the cum started to run down his chin and onto his shirt. He wanted every last drop but the workie had too much spunk to swallow.

‘Bloody hell mate you suck like a real pro. The workie pushed Kenny back and thrust his still dripping cock back into his Hi Viz.

‘Any left over can run down my leg ‘he said. ‘Now stand up and let’s see you. Clearly it was too much for you to take though you did well. Its’ all the way down your chin and onto your shirt.’

‘Christ how am I gonna get home?’ Kenny said.

‘No probs mate. Take this HiViz waistcoat of mine and put it on. It will cover the cum marks. I’ve got plenty of HI Viz. Go on put it on and then a bit of me goes with you. Well for someone who turned up his nose at a workie you have managed well and now even are wearing a HiViz. Makes me fucking laugh. My name’s Don and you?’

‘Kenny’

‘Well now bugger off Kenny as I have to get back to doing some work. Drains today.’

As Kenny walked home making sure the HiViz was covering all the cum marks on his shirt all he could think of was the smell. Was it the waistcoat, the cum or just being with the bloke. The first thing he did on getting back was to strip off and get in to the shower to totally clean himself, using the strongest shower gel he had. When he got out the shower he realised that the gel had made little difference He could still smell the workie as if he was as bad. Still some BO,  still dirt still piss and cum. It would not wash away. For some unknown reason rather than put on of  his clothes he put the HiViz waistcoat back on. Putting it one he immediately felt that he needed a ciggie and can of beer. But he didn’t smoke and hardly drank beer but now it was a must. He needed to light up and let the ciggie smoke deep into his lungs. Noticing a small bulge in the pocket of the HiViz he put his hand and took out a packet of cigarettes and box of matches. How could they be there when all he wanted to do was smoke. He then opened the fridge and took out a can of beer that had been lying around for ages. Now he had the ciggie and the beer and it was what he wanted. Sitting on his sofa with his legs apart he looked down at his body. There was a change, but how. His legs seemed more hairy not a lot but definitely more and the hair from his pubes was now up past his belly. Again not a lot but he had never had hair there before. But his belly looked bigger. He had always been so careful with his diet but now the skin looked slightly flabby. Little tufts were sprouting out around d his nipples. Part of Kenny was surprised but for now he wanted only to light up and open that can.

He opened the can first and took and large swig and put it down to light up his first ciggie. But the way he lit up and put the ciggie into his mouth it was as if he had been doing it for years. As the smoke moved down into his lungs he felt the smoke take over his body. Another deep draw and he felt his cock stirring. His cock looked a bit bigger and he watched it grow rigid as he took another smoke.

The cigarette was making him not just hard but horny.

I need to good wank he said to himself. Putting his hand around his shaft he leant back in the sofa with his legs wide apart and the other hand held the ciggie.

Fucking hell a wank with a fag not bad. Don’t know why I haven’t done this before. It feels bloody great wearing the HIViz. With every draw on the fag his hand moved up and down his shaft quicker and quicker. With his final draw and the smoke enveloping his whole body he threw his head back and shouted 

‘Fuck me’ as the cum shot out in a long arc all the way up his chest, great globs of white spunk all the way up to the top of his chest.

Stubbing the ciggie out he took both his hands and rubbed the spunk into his chest.

‘No point in cleaning this up might as well it harden into my skin and make me smell a bit more.’

‘Shit I feel so fucking tired. But I need another fag after that and finish the beer first.’

After that he went to be still wearing the HiViz.

When he work up next morning he could sense the stench of dried cum of stale cigarette smoke and a couple of empty cans of beer. There were two butts in the dish,. Christ I must have woken up and had another he though unable to remember. All I know is that I need another fag now. When he went to get dressed he found that his shirt seemed too tight and he was hardly able to fasten up his chinos. Odd they fitted yesterday but his gut seemed even bigger than last night. The only things he could put on were his jogging suit with the elasticated waist. As he lit up again he looked at his hand and he could see it was now nicotined stained and the back of his hand was definitely hairier but he couldn’t care. However he was feeling horny again and could see his cock growing inside his joggers starting to make a large bulge.

‘Shit I can’t go out like this but I need to get up to the cruising wood again. He put on the HiViz waistcoat to help cover up his bulge as reached the entrance to the wood. The same white van was there, but parked along side it was a smart sports car. As he walked into the cruising ground the owner of the sports car was standing looking at Kenny. He was in his mid 20s tall, gym trained and good looking. He let his hand down to rub his crotch . He was exactly the type that Kenny went for but that was yesterday. Today he wanted to be dirty to be with a workie who stank, who smoked and who had a thick cock. Passing by the guy he just stared and walked on to the clearing he had been at yesterday. Standing against the tree was Don in the same HiViz but another waistcoat smoking a fag.

‘Thought you might be back. Don’t suppose I’m gonna get my waistcoat back. You might as well keep it ,looks as if it suits you. Wanna a smoke?’

‘Sure ‘Kenny replied going up to the workie. Don handed over the lit ciggie.

‘You had my cock in yer mouth yesterday now you have me ciggie. Looks as if you like a bit of me.’ 

As he said this he put an arm round Kenny and pulled him in letting ghis hand firmly stroke Kenny’s bum and bring their faces close to.

‘You smell as good as me. Stale smoke and beer. Do I smell dried cum on you?’

And with that he put his other arm up Kenny’s jogging top and let his hand explore the dried cum chest.

‘Fuck that was a good wank you had, plenty of cum there what a waste but it sure gives you a smell. Looks as if you want some of me and feeling that nice round arse of yours makes me in need of a fuck.’

 Kenny could feel the workies rock hard cock pressing against how own

‘ I ain’t got much time but I’m not leaving till you have had some spunk up that arse of you.’

With that the workie held back Kenny waistband and let his hand travel down until his fingers were searching for Kenny’s hole.

‘Just want to check that hole of yours will take my cock.’ As he said this he started inserting finger after finger into the opening until he had 4 fingers fully in. ‘Shit man I could almost fist you but at least you have plenty of room for me inside you. Now turn round.’

 As he pulled down the back of the joggers so the workie unzipped himself and took out his hard cock.

‘I ain’t washed since yesterday so me dick stinks of my cum and your spit. Great ain’t it? Now bend over a bit while I get some spit on me dick.’

Don let out a loud cough as he brought up a great gob of spit and then spat it over the long length of his shaft, rubbing in the thick spit.

‘A great gob there that’ll make it nice and easy to slip this cock of mine all the way up you.’

One of the workies arms grabbed the top of Kenny’s HI Viz and with the other he guided it to the hole and let the head rim in readiness to insert. As Kenny’s hole opened to take the cock he felt his muscles contract and let out a squeal of pain.

‘Relax mate and let those arse muscles of yours take me. Tell you what light up a ciggie from your HiViz. As Kenny lit up and took a deep breath of smoke into his lungs so his muscles relaxed and the workie started to press his cock further and further in.

‘What did I tell you. A ciggie always helps.’

Don brought both large hairy arms around Kenny and pulled himself in right up to the hilt as Kenny puffed more and more.

‘Don’t finish the fucking ciggie yet mate. Wait till I’ve had you.’

Kenny could feel his cock throbbing inside his trackies already showing a stain of precum. It was like having a bloody pole up his arse but what a fucking pole. He’d never had a cock that size before and decided he’d never have anything less again.

‘You are not the only one liking this mate. Look over there. We are being watched by that young toady. Got his cock out watching us. Still it’s you I am fucking and he can just wasted his spunk while lucky you get to have mine all the way up you.’

Having his prick up Kenny and watching the guy jack off made the workie even more horny. For Kenny seeing the bloke get ready to shoot his load and have this amazing piece of meat inside him was making him so geared up he was ready to come.

‘If that guy is anything like me we will all be coming at once. Now go on push in and out and let me feel right up inside you to me pubes. 

‘Go on fuck me harder and harder, ‘Kenny shouted knowing the young guy could hear him

‘Get all that fucking spunk into me. What a fucking huge cock you got. Fuck me rigid.’

Hearing this was too much for the workie who shot his load all the way into Kenny’s arse. At the same time Kenny’s cock exploded into his trackies the cum oozing out through the material. Both looked up in time to see the young guy, having heard the two of them spurt a great arc of cum through the air onto the ground in front of him.

‘Shit that was bloody great ‘the workie said ‘almost like a fucking threesome, but I wouldn’t touch that geezer with a bargepole. You Kenny are much more like me.’

‘And I feel more like you ‘Kenny replied. ‘How the hell do I get home this time. Yesterday my shirt was covered in your cum and today I have my own spunk all the way through my joggers.’

‘Well I fucking saved you yesterday and today I can do the same. Just as well I always carry spare gear. Come to the van and I have something for you.’

Kenny followed the workie back to his van . Don opened the passenger door and took out a pair of HiVz yellow heavy duty nylon trousers. Put those over your tackies for now. They may seem a bit big for now but don’t worry about that. While you are here take this.’ He picked up and plastic bag and handed it to Kenny.

‘At least you now have a bit more of the gear. No point in just having the waistcoat.’

‘How do I get all this back to you.’ Kenny asked

‘No probs mate see it as a gift. Anyway it looks good on you and you now look more like a decent dirty guy.’ 

‘Being dirty aint so bad.’

‘Thought youdd say that. Now off you go and enjoy the kit. I’ll see you soon enough.’

As Kenny walked home he could feel the heavy nylon rubbing against his trackies which was rubbing against his cum soaked body. He was now wearing the waistcoat and the trousers both stained with oil and mud. Anyone having a quick look at him would think he could be a workie. He looked inside the bag and saw a pair of well worn steel capped leather boots and inside them a pair of what looked like dirty yellow thick socks.

Christ what am I mean to do with them he thought and at the bottom of the bag were a pack of six beer cans and two packets of cigarettes. He still had a couple of ciggies in the other packet.

Lighting one up he walked back home inhaling deeply almost swaggering in. his HiViz gear feeling like a workie that had just been fucked and as he walked he could feel Don’s spunk beginning to ooze out into his trackies and from there into the HiViz trousers he was now wearing. When he got home he took the HIViz and trackies off then put just the Hiviz on. He could feel the left over cum sticking to the nylon but it felt good as he sat all evening in the gear with a ciggie in one hand and a beer in the other

In the morning when he woke up and reached out for the packet of fags he realised that he had gone to bed in the HiViz. Going for a pee as he unzipped to get his cock out the smell of piss and cum was strong but good. It was good to stink that like and why the hell wash when you could smell like that. He opened up the bag that the workie had given him and pulled out the socks. The reason they were yellow was because they had not been washed for ages and he could smell the sweaty feet that had worn them. He put them up to his nose and rubbed the socks over his face. The stench of cheese and dirt made his cock swell up in the HIViz.

‘Shit I’ll be having another wank if I keep smelling these. He put his feet into the socks with his big toe sticking through the holes. Then the heavy well used boots tucking the trousers into the tops. Kenny looked at himself in the mirror. At least facially he looked the same though his facial hair seemed stronger and he should have a shave but decided he liked it that way. However his arms looked bigger and more muscle and he chest was even hairier than the day before. His flabby waist line looked as if he had been on the beer for months and was almost hanging over the waistband but the HIViz was now a perfect fit. He wanted to go out but needed something to cover his chest so looking into the laundry basket he found a soiled T shirt that he had last played football in. However it was skin tight on him now and every time he moved it rode up at the front to show of a hairy belly. 

‘I look fucking great’ he thought to himself, giving his crotch an good rub. ‘Time to go and do some cruising.’ 

As he reached the layby Kenny saw two white vans parked next to one another. He recognised the one belonging to Don but not the other. At first he saw no one around looking for a quick wank and as he reached the clearing he saw Don standing talking to another workie both smoking. Not sure what to do he was about to turn back when Don noticed him and waved him to come over.

‘So Boss this is the guy I told you about, Kenny.’

‘Don has been telling me all about you what a stuck up sod you were the day he saw you , not wanting to give him ablow job because he is workie and like us all had a good dirty stench about him. Well it looks as if he has been working a bit of a change on you. I like what I see Don, well done but we have a bit of finishing off to do eh? So Kenny I have something here I am gonna put on you and you will like it especially when you get all the sensations coming your way.

The Boss took a black leather hood out of his HiViz jacket.

‘Now get this on.’

At first Kenny looked a bit nervous but he had always been turned on by videos of guys in leather hoods. You had to guess what they looked like and always looked like masters

He pulled it on over his head and realised there were no eyelets, just a small space for his nose and a slit for his mouth. It was all black and the smell of sweaty leather made his cock start to lengthen. The Boss pulled the zip down making it tight against his head.

The is the first zip we need to deal with . Feels good doesn’t it? Are you beginning to feel a bit different with it on and that smell of leather to inhale?’

‘Feels great. Don’t know what it is but definitely feeling a change. Tell you what Boss I could do with a ciggie.’

‘All in good time mate, Now let’s get the next zip open.’ 

And with that the Boss found the zip at the back of the HiViz trousers and pulled it down to reveal Kenny’s arse.

‘Nice bit of hair been developing over that arse of yours  Us workies love hairy arses don’t we Don. So when you bend down we can all see a good hairy slit. I can feel my cock getting nice and hard for you Kenny. Don says you are one of the best fucks he has had and if you can take a prick his size then you will manage mine.’

The Boss gave Kenny’s arse a good rub and let his fingers work through the hair to the hole. 

‘I can see you are nice and moist man. You knew what would be coming your way today. So Don you can do the third zip.’

‘Tell you what Boss ‘Don said ‘the guys gagging for it ,that cock of his is like a fucking pole, it will need a strong hand to get that cock.’

Don put his hand inside and grabbed the shaft and as it came through the nylon it sprang up.

‘Not just the hair on the arse Boss the guy’s cock has now gotten to a good thick size as well. He’s not washed that dick of his since we first met so it has a great stink of piss and cum. Just as I like cocks.’

‘You have done well with this one Don. Give the guy his ciggie now and light it up for him.’

Don lit up and put the ciggie through the leather slit into Kenny’s mouth. Now that is better.’

‘Christ am I ready to fuck this guy. The hood is turning me on and seeing that fag in his mouth is a turn on. I have a right boner needing to shoot.’

The Boss put his arms around Kenny and pressed his hard dick against Kenny’s arse. Suddenly Kenny knew what to expect and moved his arse out to meet the Boss’s wet head.

‘That’s it boy, hood or no hood your arse is waiting for me.. Now bend down a little so I can open up that hole and let myself in. Once I have my head in then stand up cause Don’s wanting to get that cock of yours down his throat..’

Kenny briefly took the ciggies out of his mouth. 

‘Shit I wish I could see that cock of yours boss but it sure feels an equal to Don’s and after yesterday my hole is ready to take a baseball bat so ram that son of a bitch all the way up to the hilt. Being fucked in full HiViz feeling all that yellow nylon and you ramming me from behind and Don taking my cock at the front is so fucking amazing.Shit man full Hiviz a tight leather hood and me stinking. Fucking great.’

‘Don’t worry you are getting the full length.’

As the Boss pushed his shaft fully in so Don leant forwards on his knees and gave a big gob of spit onto Kennys shaft. 

‘Getting it a bit greasy makes me swallow better for you. Can’t wait to get the stench down into my throat. Grabbing Kenny’s long thick pulsing dick Dom let his tongue rim the head, savouring the precum oozing out from the tip.

The Boss’s cock was now fully inside Kenny’s arse and Kenny needed to react and starting moving back and forwards to get the full sensation. As he moved his arse so it meant his cock went in and out of Don’s mouth the whole way down so Don could feel the pubes brushing against his face.

‘Fucking hell’ Kenny said,  ‘A workie back and front and a good fag in my mouth. It gets no better. No one does it better than a workie.’

 He knew he was near to coming so he pushed harder and harder quicker and quicker all the time inhaling as much smoke as he could. He wanted to have the Boss release his cum as he shot his loas down Don’s throat. By now Don had his own cock out and with one hand was rubbing quicker and quicker up  and down his shaft.

‘Christ you guys I ready.’

‘So are we.’ Both said.

‘Fuck’ Kenny shouted through gritted teeth the fag still in his mouth and the Boss shot wave after wave of cum all the way up Kenny’s arse. Kenny shot his load into Dom’s throat as Dom’s spunk spurted over Kenny’s boots, thick and white

As all three got their breath back so the Boss said.

‘Well Kenny it’s time to take that tight leather hood off you. Unzipping Kenny took the hood off and shook his head. His face felt different. Taking his hands to his face he realised that the sides of his head were fully shaved with a number 1 cut on the top. Also he had a thick 3 days growth of a beard

Shit man what’s happened?’ But now his voice sounded like a deep smokie northern.

 ‘What the fuck do you think. You were only too happy to take some of Don’s clothes, you got off with having the best sex with a workie and so now you are one and look like one. A fucking horny one too. A nice belly hanging over top of your trousers and if you look at your arms you will see they are like all of us, covered in some great tats. You are one of the lads now, a stinking workie. So what do you want now?’

‘A fucking ciggie of course.’ 

‘Reckon we all deserve one and back at the van a good can of beer before we head off to work down the drains.’

‘Coming Kenny?’

‘Sure thing Boss , can’t wait to get down those stinking drains but as long as we three have another session at the end of the day.’

‘That’s a promise Workie Kenny.’

[4zahar]

00 | The Star Child

Masterlist. Next→

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: English is not my first language. Happy New Year! 🎊

—Ad astra per aspera—

Gotham's streets hadn't been designed to withstand rainfall over 30 milliliters per hour. A fact highlighted when some areas became prone to flooding due to the poorly thought out infrastructure of the sewer system. Built far too intricate and unnecessarily so, without consideration for situations such as heavy storms and raining season. The kind of problem Politicians would forever liked to preach about solving despite not a single soul believing half the funds for said project wouldn't be later on pocketed. Not a single uncorrupted branch was left on Politic matters.

Unfortunately and adding to the pile of reasons for a solitary boy to be wondering the streets drenched from head to toe at the whim of the storm—Clothes clinged uncomfortably to his skin; said kid was seemingly trying to shield a backpack with his body.

Car horns blaring in the distance in the alleys, speeding over the runoff from the storm pooling along the curbs. Streams formed, raising past ankles as the lone boy sprinted across the street, splashing in the filth to round the wrong corner. By the time he stepped in The Narrows his already worn off shoes became muddy puddles.

There was the chilling wind biting at his bones too. No matter how much he pulled at the hoodie, clearly a size too big, it did little socked and stained to provide any warmth.

A dog barking behind a fence became the only sound Jason could hear above his own teeth chattering.

He became the man of the house at a far too young age, the same day his father got arrested. Jason Todd’s survival on the streets of the country's most dangerous city hinged on a self-sufficiency no child should possess. Devastating was the burden thrusted upon him, forcing him to scavenge for food, scrape together money—stealing if necessary—and keep a eye on his mother.

He had learned through pain how things worked. Everything always getting worse over and over before ever showing signs of getting better—if they ever did. Lessons taught by the streets. Yet for all his toughness and bravado, the idea of losing his mother devastated him enough to seek help from anyone, anywhere. He'll do anything.

His mother, Catherine Todd, had never been so shameless before. Never like this, in her infinite wisdom, had she locked Jason out of the house with a storm in toe. Perhaps in her altered perception of reality, she did her son a favor. However, most children were far from far from stupid. The closest they'll have would be naivety, which her son wasn't. Jason wasn't blind and deaf like many seemed to view him as. What those days and afternoons locked out really were for Jason were failures for not having been able to stop them. Stop her.

The cure for her mother's illness was the same substance slowly but surely killing her, apparently, and according to the drug dealer that'll come to their home. As if Jason were stupid. As if he didn't know drugs were no magical spell and about his mother's addiction.

Overwhelmed, his resolve faltered. Losing on a betting game with all odds against him, Jason saw no choice but to force himself to go out under the lash of a storm in search of a new player.

Someone who had no name or face that he could remember, but whose existence was suspended in a forgotten photo half-embraced by fire; His sister.

Willis had not liked to talk about his oldest child, so you must've been a force to be reckoned with.

═════════════ • ✧ • ══════════════

One of the last threads of hope he had had, summarized in this ominous building. After this, Jason will ran out of ideas. For a while he has been standing in front of the door of an apartment in one of the many complexes nearby. After hitting one too many dead ends, Jason knew better than to let himself be haunted with What ifs.

Armed with an old picture of you, the sister he never had, in which he was an infant in your arms and your smile had missing baby teeth. Now he was ten and had to squint to find any resemblance to his old baby-self. You could've changed so much all could be for nothing if you had done as much as dyed your hair.

Just the walk from Crime Alley had costed him his backpack. Far more he should've allowed himself to for this to be worth nothing, so there better be a fairy behind this door. At the very least a decent human being.

He wasn't backing down. Jason just needed a moment, okay?

Lots of thoughts and thugs had been faced tonight—the longest walk his short legs had ever made in his short life was enough for him to get mugged by a group of drug addicts.

Facing disappointment, his great fear of being left alone, tightened his chest far more than the kick to the ribs he got a couple blocks ago. (Him being a child meant his backpack had proudly carried four pieces of gum, a pair of socks and an used toothbrush which hadn't been good enough for a bunch of crazy. God forbid a boy had his own problems.) However, he was lucky they didn't kidnap him or worse. Even if only because of knowing nothing would be gained from it after seeing the inside of his backpack.

You could be anywhere if not here, really. Even dead in a ditch. Children didn't get very far alone. They were all attracted by dim light of deception in a deep dark ocean and devoured by an anglefish or other predator lurking by.

After a deep sigh, his lungs filled with false courage and the pollution gothamies were so familiar with. Although His hand froze halfway to knocking on the door, three times did the sound echoed down the hall and Jason's arm flashed hidden behind himself just as fast.

An eerie silence settled back in before Jason tried again. Three knocks, louder this time, were intended. Jason got to one before the dull thud of something falling to the ground was heard from inside. The response had almost been immediate, followed by footsteps. Jason barely had time to take a step back before the door creaked open as far as the chain on the bolt allowed.

A somewhat gloomy looking girl peeked out. She seemed to have just woken up in any case, with her short hair a mess of spiky locks pointed in all directions. Adding to the frame of her face were blue drooping eyes lingered above Jason's head for a second too long as if she expected someone taller.

Great offense was taken at that by the way. He had gone through a lot, walked way too much, not for this—and you—to call him out like that. You weren't even that much taller than him. You weren't even standing straight hiding most of yourself behind the door. Then her eyes descended to meet him, and Jason's mind went blank.

He couldn't fully see her face. Didn't need to see to know this was you his sister. The picture he had of you felt heavy on his pocket as you looked just like your mother. His mother.

The lump in his throat made itself all the more present when he tried to speak, so he waited for a greeting of your own instead. Anything to not be the one who had to speak first would have been a good start in Jason's books.

The silence stretched despite the two. His tongue felt like it had been tied up, stammered the first thing that came to mind when nothing came of you.

“I am your brother,” he blurted out, with anxious energy so clumsy he instantly regretted it.

Taglist(?): @classicsimpforaaronwarner

[goodlucktai]

raised on little light (2/3)

rise of the tmnt word count: 4k pairing: mikey & oc big thank you to  @soldrawss for the art included in this chapter and to  @mykimouser for making me insane about neutral!michelangelo at all hours of the day title borrowed from northern attitude by noah kahan read on ao3

x

2031

Mikey is looking for his little brother. It seems like he spends half his life doing that these days. 

The TV is on in Splinter’s room, door ajar but equally as unapproachable as the door to Donnie’s lab, which is shut tight, as usual. Raph’s door is standing open, but his room is empty, because he leaves early for work on the weekdays. 

Mikey maneuvers past the closed doors and empty rooms like a professional. He doesn’t even have to think too hard about it anymore. 

Rounding the corner to the dining room, Mikey’s stride slows and relief punches an exhale out of him. He doesn’t realize how tense he is until he deflates like a balloon. 

Gio is asleep at the table, face half-buried in his folded arms, crossbow and maintenance supplies spread out in front of him. It’s disappointing, but not surprising. He rarely stays in his own room, as if he’s afraid of taking up space that isn’t really his. As if they’re going to change their mind and tell him they do still need it for storage, actually, and he wants to be ready when they do. Mikey’s pretty sure he never fully unpacked his bag. 

Sometimes he leaves the lair entirely, and since he’s the most unreliable texter Mikey knows, and has never met a phone call he would answer without a gun held to his head, he might as well fall completely off the grid each time he’s gone. Mikey stays up on those nights, keeping busy in the kitchen, worrying worrying worrying. 

He feels too much like Raph when he doesn’t know where the kid is. He understands intimately how overbearing big brothers could be, remembers how a tiny rift had formed between him and Raph when they were young because of it—childish and inconsequential in the grand scheme of things to come, but devastating at the time. 

So he tries to channel Leo instead, who had always trusted Mikey to know when to ask for help if he needed it. Tries to make sure Gio never feels like he can’t come home again, with a smile ready for him as soon as he slips silently back through the door. 

But last night Gio must have stayed in. There’s a blanket draped over him that Mikey didn’t put there, and Splinter almost certainly hadn’t left his room to put there, which leaves two possible culprits. Raph and Donnie don’t know how to make gestures that Gio can see for what they are, hardly know how to be in the same room as the kid without seeing a ghost superimposed where he’s standing. It leaves a lot of the emotional heavy-lifting on Mikey’s shoulders, but it’s fine. A brother could never be a burden to him. 

Mikey can’t give Gio everything he deserves to have, everything that should have been his from the very beginning, but he can give him some things. 

And we’ll start, Mikey thinks with the kind of absurd resilience that wouldn’t have been out of place at the actual end of the world, with breakfast. 

Gio wasn’t trained in ninja like the rest of them were but his senses are as sharp as any other turtle genetically modified for war. Mikey woke him up with a touch once and the fear response only lasted a handful of seconds but it was enough that Mikey made the executive decision that no one would ever do that again, or else. 

Mikey pulls a chair out beside the smaller turtle and sinks into it soundlessly. He traces the newly-familiar white spots on that smoky gray-green face with his eyes, counting and recounting them, even though he knows how many there are. Everything about Gio is at once brand-new and well-loved to him. 

After a moment, the only other sound the ancient Snoopy clock counting seconds in the kitchen, Mikey starts to hum. Three little birds sat on my window…

He can’t help remembering another morning just like this one, what feels like a lifetime ago. Mikey, all of thirteen, had insisted on being woken up to make breakfast so he could try a new crumble muffin recipe, but he’d stayed up too late the night before and sleep clung stubbornly to him despite the row of alarms he’d set. Their resident insomniac had been the only one awake, by virtue of not having gone to bed in the first place, and he’d parked himself in the beanbag under Mikey’s hammock and hummed the same song over and over until Mikey woke up. He had it stuck in his head for the rest of the day. They sang “GIRL PUT YOUR RECORDS ON” in the kitchen at the top of their lungs until Donnie sent the group chat a PDF of a noise complaint form, completely filled out. 

Mikey hadn’t realized he was taking any of it for granted back then. He would do anything— anything—to wake up that way again. Just one more time. 

Beside him, Gio stirs. Once he’s awake he’s alert fast, those big dark eyes sliding open and staying that way, head coming up off the pillow of his arms. He has that look on his face that Mikey would be tempted to call earnest on anyone else. 

“Rise and shine, Clementine,” Mikey says brightly, reaching over to rub the back of his fingers against a spotted cheek affectionately. “I was craving breakfast empanadas today and was hoping my best sous chef would be willing to help me out.” Then, deliberately light-hearted, he adds, “Little turtles who skip dinner have to eat extra breakfast, you know. That’s house rule number one.”

Gio blinks at him, his face giving nothing away to the casual observer. 

“I thought house rule number one was ‘always get it in writing’.” 

Mikey’s smile widens, surprised and pleased every time he plays along. 

“That’s number three, actually. Right behind ‘don’t do anything you wouldn’t want recorded and replayed at family functions.’ If you want, I can tell you exactly why that one’s a rule, and why it’s entirely Donnie’s fault.”

Gio does that thing where he assesses Mikey’s expression and tone as though he’s looking for the trap. Mikey weathers it, makes sure his smile doesn’t slip an inch. 

Donatello is more of an urban legend to Gio than his actual living brother. After a few hesitant attempts to approach the older turtle that had been shut down completely each time, Gio made the informed decision that that road was closed permanently. 

Sometimes Mikey will tell a story, or April, on one of her increasingly sporadic visits to the lair, will lean over and show him a video on her phone, and Gio will listen or watch like he has no idea who the guy they’re talking about could possibly be. 

They do their best, but there’s no way to really introduce the Donnie that they know to Gio, because that Donnie only still exists in their stories and videos. The Donatello who was silly, who loved music and theater, who burst into the living room with some new invention or gadget to boast about, had been replaced by one who rarely spoke, who didn’t even have Spotify on his phone anymore since it took up too much space, who kept the lair running only because it was where his family lived but not because he had any lasting attachment to the place, and he certainly didn’t make any unnecessary tech just for fun. 

I know you’re still in there, Mikey thinks sometimes. 

He’ll bring Donnie lunch and leave it on the table in the lab, and then hold out his arms. Sometimes, Donnie won’t look at him. Sometimes, Donnie will put his tools down and let his little brother crowd in for a hug. He’ll tuck Mikey under his chin and hold him tight, like they were children again and nothing was wrong that couldn’t be made right. 

Thank you for staying, Mikey will think, clinging for every second he’s allowed to. I know it’s hard. It’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do. 

The grief is always encroaching, like floodwaters. Rising slow and steady, swallowing up cars and street signs and single level houses, changing the landscape of his hometown until it’s an unfamiliar place. No end in sight. No sign of land. 

Someone send us a boat, Mikey wants to cry hysterically. But he knows how stupid that is.

He is the boat. 

—

When he met Giorgio for the first time, Mikey was twenty-five and Leo had been dead for ten years.

“Sorry,” Mikey said. His fingers felt numb around the phone. “Could you say that again?”

“A turtle,” Hueso had replied shortly. “I would not have called, but he has familiar eyes. He is not aware of any family in the area. Would you like me to ask him to wait for you?”

Mikey hadn’t tried his portals again since the last disastrous time—since Raph had made him promise to stop—so he knew it couldn’t be Leo. He knew it. Hueso would be able to pick his sobrino out of a million turtles and would have led the call with that. And Leo wouldn’t have stopped for pizza before running back to them, he wouldn’t have stopped for anything. Leo would have been the one to let them know Leo was home. 

Still, there was a tiny warbling hope in the bottom of his heart that wailed “maybe, maybe, maybe.” Still, it hurt to feel that hope shrivel up and die when Mikey slammed into the private dining room and found Hueso talking to an unfamiliar mutant with white spots and a black shell and—it was undeniable—Hamato Yoshi’s eyes. 

The turtle was small, dressed in dark grays and greens, a strap across his chest that made it clear he was armed by something resting out of sight on his back. He stood with his arms crossed, in a manner that was probably supposed to read as stubborn or defiant, but Mikey clocked instantly as nervous. 

This kid didn’t know what he was doing here or who the hell Mikey was and he looked about as comfortable with all the attention as Donnie would have been at that age. 

Mikey felt himself soften, some distant part of his heart sitting in disuse and disrepair lurching to life again. Ancestral magic that he had largely turned his back on suddenly stirred, ninpo reaching out fragile feelers toward the person in the room that it recognized as immediately as if it was looking at its own self in a mirror. 

“This is one of my creations,” Draxum announced, confirming what Mikey’s heart had already decided. “It must have survived after all.”

“Elaborate,” Mikey said, in a tone that didn’t match the gentle smile he had for the spotted turtle. 

“How old are you?” the alchemist had asked instead, which seemed an odd first question to have and didn’t explain literally anything. 

“Eighteen,” the spotted turtle replied. Mikey’s brow made a bid for his hairline. He would have been less surprised if the kid had said fifteen. Was he that scrawny as an eighteen year old?

“You hatched at about the same time as the red one,” Draxum said dispassionately, “so you should have been about his age, and he is twenty-seven. And how did you come to be here?”

Gio’s eyes slid away from him, over to Mikey. Mikey didn’t know what his face was doing. He hoped it was encouraging. 

“I went through a yellow door,” Gio said. “And I ended up here.” 

“By yellow door, I’m assuming you mean a rift in space-time,” Draxum said. “What possessed you to walk into it?”

“Felt safe,” Gio said, and that was the last thing he said about it, expression closing up in a way Mikey was intimately familiar with as I’m done talking and liable to bite if provoked. But Draxum was a lot of things, genius among them, and seemed to already have an idea of what had happened. 

Portals could be capricious. The night of Splinter’s mutation and escape from the Hidden City, a machine in Draxum’s original lab had gone haywire as the structure collapsed. Draxum watched as it snatched up various tools and equipment and finally one of the experiment enclosures that Splinter had not been able to reach in time to save its occupant with the four he already carried. 

With the machine destroyed, it was impossible to even begin tracking the experiment down to wherever it had ended up. And there were unfortunately small odds that the creature would have survived long on its own wherever the portal deposited it. Draxum had written it off as dead. 

But there he was. Ten years displaced, but living and healthy and whole. Apparently he’d been in another dimension all this time, and only came back again because a portal he encountered had looked inviting. 

—

And now he’s in Mikey’s kitchen, listening studiously to his brother’s chatter and following instructions with exacting precision, still wearing the ridiculously oversized red sweater Mikey bundled him into the day before. It made Raph’s face do something funny when he saw Gio in it at lunch, but he hadn’t said anything when he saw Mikey hauling it out of the dryer earlier that morning, and he didn’t say anything at the table either.  

Over the years and countless wash cycles it’s been worn to unbelievable softness. It used to be that Raph couldn’t keep it in his closet if he tried, caught as it was in a constant rotation between little siblings who loved to wear it, floppy sleeves and sagging hem and all. It’s almost strange to see it again, here under the kitchen lights in this new country they all live in. 

Stealing clothes was a baby brother right of passage. And it was just collecting dust in storage anyway. 

Gio sees Mikey looking and glances down self-consciously. Then he jolts, and drops the ball of dough in his hands, lifting and twisting his left arm to put it more in the light. Near the elbow of the sleeve is a smudge of flour. 

He thumbs at the spot, preoccupied by it. His body language is shrinking because he always makes himself a smaller target when he starts to get anxious. 

One day, Mikey is going to find whoever taught him to do that and have words. For now, he rounds the island to Gio’s side and leans against it so he can duck down and peer into that little spotted face. He makes sure to plant his own elbow in the flour dusted across the butcher block counter, sending up a little poof of it as he does. 

“Hey, sweet kid, don’t worry about this old thing. It’s already been through everything you can possibly think of,” Mikey reassures, tweaking the hood playfully. “It survived the Paintball War of 2017, it’ll hold up to a little baking accident.”

Gio’s dark eyes lift to meet his, attentive and absorbing everything he sees and so, so careful. 

“Raphael won’t get mad?” 

Mikey keeps smiling, even though he’d like to start crying. 

Of course he won’t, he wants to say. He’s your big brother and he loves you. He’d move heaven and earth for you. He doesn’t know how to say it these days—he doesn’t trust himself to hold people the way he used to, doesn’t know who he is anymore since the shield he used to be was broken—but he’s still Raph. Our Raphie. I promise, it’s still him. 

Gio had never been lifted up into strong arms and tossed in the air until he laughed, caught safely and held tight like those arms would never get tired of holding him. He had never crawled under the blankets in a room humming and blinking with electronics after a nightmare, resting his head on a broad shoulder and falling asleep to a low voice rattling off his favorite explanation of gravity—a force that held everything down, pulled everything together, that could always be counted upon to keep you. He had never snuck out for brunch, just him and someone who saw him more clearly than he could ever see himself, who knew when a stack of French toast and a string of Snapchat selfies and a little mischief was exactly what he needed. 

Gio had never had any of that. He had been alone since he was freshly mutated and abandoned by pure chance, and now he was barely nineteen and he didn’t know how else to be. He didn’t have the first clue, but he was so willing to learn. He soaked up attention like a plant starved for sunlight, petals reaching endlessly for an end to the dark.  

I wish you had been there, Mikey thinks sometimes when he looks at him, heart breaking with the truth of it. We would have held you. You wouldn’t even know how to be alone. You wouldn’t be worried about a stain on a sweater. 

“He won’t get mad,” Mikey says instead. He channels his most charming brother, the one who could sell water to a fish, who could talk his way out of anything, who convinced his family to keep hoping even when all hope seemed lost. “And hey, if he brings it up, we’ll just blame the cat.” 

The corner of Gio’s mouth twitches, and then he smiles despite himself, as buoyed along as Mikey always was when Leo was silly with him, and says, “We don’t have a cat.” 

“Maybe I’ve just been waiting for an excuse to get one!” 

At that point, a burst of white noise from the living room cuts over whatever Gio might have been about to say. It sounds like the roar of wind from an open window of a car going seventy down the highway. It cuts off, and then something clatters noisily, and Gio’s reluctantly amused expression vanishes into alarm. 

They don’t exactly get a lot of surprise visitors down here. He wouldn’t recognize the familiar sound of transportation-by-time-scepter, followed by the even more familiar sound of its clumsy wielder tripping and knocking something over immediately upon arrival. 

“Oops—helloooo?” 

“In here, Renet,” Mikey calls back, nudging his shoulder into Gio’s so he knows not to worry. 

The timestress bumbles in, scepter tucked into the crook of her arm so she has both hands free to fix her braids. She’s smiling all big and crooked and sweet, mouth open to greet Mikey the same enthusiastic way she always greets him, but she stops dead in the doorway when she catches sight of the second turtle in the room. 

Renet takes one look at Gio and says, “Oh! Well, you don’t belong here at all, do you?”

It’s been a long time since Mikey has felt like screaming at her, but the way his little brother absorbs that blow without flinching is enough to get him on his feet. 

“Hey, Nettie, can we talk in the hall?” he says with a brightness he doesn’t feel. “Georgie, I’ll be right back, okay?”

Gio dips his head in a nod, slowly rolling dough in his hands again, and Renet follows Mikey out of the room like someone who knows they’re about to face the firing squad. 

“I did not mean it like that,” is the first thing she says when it’s just the two of them. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

Mikey does know that somewhere in the back of his mind. Renet is his friend and she’s never been anything but kind to him. If they had met when they were children, they probably would have gotten along like a house on fire. 

There was a time when he only saw the best in people, but the idealism had been carved out of Mikey when his portal to the prison dimension failed to open.

Some days, Mikey looks at Renet and can only see the person with time itself at her disposal, the past and future spread out like a choose-your-own-adventure book—the person with the power to help, to change things, who took Mikey’s countless, desperate pleas to be allowed to save his brother and held them tenderly like they were important to her and still told him no. 

Some days, that “no” is the most significant thing she ever said to him. 

“He’s my brother,” Mikey says. “He belongs wherever we are.” 

“Of course he does,” Renet says, brown eyes soft. “Mike, of course he does. That’s not what I meant.”

When they move back into the kitchen, introductions are made properly, and Renet makes it a point to clarify that she’s glad to finally meet him. 

Giorgio is watching them with those eyes that take in everything. Deep and trusting when he looks at Mikey, sharpening into something calculative when he shifts his gaze toward Renet. 

Looking back, Mikey will recognize it as the moment he lost him. 

“Smells pretty good in here, boys!” Renet says, swanning over to the stovetop. “Oh, is that chorizo? Mike, tell me you’re not making empanadas! I already ate on my way over!” 

“Then you won’t need to stay for breakfast,” Mikey sing-songs, feathers still ruffled. Then, because he feels bad for the way she deflates at the blatant dismissal, adds, “If you want to stick around, you can take some back with you to Null Time. Just don’t let that jerk Savanti have any, I don’t like his vibe.” “I swear,” Renet says, hand to her heart. 

“You talk about time travel like it’s something you can do,” Gio says suddenly. “Is it?”

The air in the room suddenly feels much thinner than before. Renet looks at Mikey quickly before answering.

“Sure, Gio. I’m a timestress—or, you know, I’m a student now. Basically an unpaid intern. But one of these days I’ll be the real deal.” She winks at him, and Gio gazes back at her placidly. 

“So you could send someone back in time? To stop something bad from happening?”

Oh, no, Mikey thinks. 

“I could,” Renet says. To her credit, she doesn’t sound as bone-tired of this conversation as she must be. “But I can’t. There are so many rules, and for good reason! One little slip-up could be an absolute disaster. It won’t do you any good trying to change the past if you end up destroying the present and the future while you’re at it, right? I’m barely allowed to look at this thing, much less use it,” Renet goes on, wagging the priceless time scepter around like it’s a rubber spatula. 

“But you could,” Gio says. “If we followed all the rules. If we figured out a way—”

“Georgie,” Mikey interjects. 

“I’ll tell you what I told Mike, baby,” Renet says gently. “It can’t be done. He belongs here.” 

Gio says, “But I don’t. You said that.”

“Stop,” Mikey says, not recognizing his own voice. 

But it’s too late. It was too late when he tried to open a door inside the prison dimension, because Leo was already dead inside. 

He was already dead inside, Draxum had said, clinical in a way that helped to distance himself from the hurt, but also distanced himself from the ones hurting, clinical in a way that made Mikey bare his teeth and say things he couldn’t take back. That’s why you couldn’t reach him. It wasn’t your fault. There wasn’t a point for you to anchor off of, there was no other end for your line to reach. He was already dead inside. He was already gone. 

Mikey stares at Gio, the tuck of his chin as he looks back down at the dough on the counter. He’s unwilling to argue with Mikey, but that stubbornness is an innate family trait. There’s no way he’ll give it up now that he’s got his teeth sunk into the idea. Mikey knows what it looks like when a brother is about to leave. Mikey knows what it feels like when they’re already gone.   

When he was younger, he was so angry. He was bursting with potential, with possibilities, his magic a wounded, snarling creature in his heart. It’s not fair that he failed. It’s not fair that he didn’t save his brother, that his love wasn’t enough to punch through the prison dimension and wrap Leo in warmth and light and bring him home. It’s not fair that no one was willing to help him. 

Fine, he had thought, fine! I’ll do it myself! 

Renet had explained to him over and over that his power had more to do with space than time. Casey Jr. said that he’d been sent back in time by his Uncle Michelangelo, but that wasn’t necessarily true. Casey’s arrival in the past had created another universe, parallel to the former. That was Mikey’s power—he could affect and even create other timelines, which was powerful and amazing, but not true time travel. Nothing he did could change his own reality, the one he was living in, because he had already lived it. He couldn’t get back what he had lost. 

Mikey plunged ahead anyway, desperate. He could make it work. He could make a change. Even if it didn’t change anything here, he could find another world and save its Leo and—and maybe that could be a start. Maybe he would finally get his head up above water, and stop drowning for just one second of the day, maybe he’d be able to take a full breath for the first time since his brother disappeared on the other side of a closed door.  

He didn’t wait for permission or approval. He slunk off into a tunnel a mile away from home and drew the circles himself. Lifted his hands and filled them with power, until it felt like he was holding the sun. And it hurt, of course it did. It burned all the way through. But he was hurting anyway. 

A portal opened, a pale yellow window. Mikey looked through it, and saw himself on Staten Island, ripping open a hole in the universe and saving his brother. 

What?

He looked again, over and over, at least half a dozen times—and every time, he looked into a universe where Leo didn’t die. Where Mikey saved him, or Raph scooped him up before he went diving off the Technodrome to catch Mikey and Donnie, or Donnie flew back up to Leo with a rocket and yanked him back through the door before Casey managed to close it. Over and over and over, Leo didn’t die. 

So it’s just me, Mikey realized. I’m the one who got it wrong. 

Raph followed the detonation of ninpo and hysterical screaming through the maze-like tunnels and found him suspended in midair. Rock and rebar were flying around Mikey, everything not nailed to the earth turned dangerous projectiles, his arms burning and flaking away into pieces that disintegrated when they met open air. 

His big brother’s expression had been terrified as he pulled Mikey down into his arms and held him through the shrieking storm he’d made. One hand on the back of his head to keep his face tucked safely into Raph’s scarred shoulder, the other arm cradling him like he was half his age, like he was still someone’s baby. 

“Angie, it’s okay,” Raph had said, low and aching. His voice was a rumble beneath Mikey’s ear, barely audible but just loud enough. “It’s okay. You can scream, you can bring the whole damn city down if you want. But you gotta let go, sunshine. Let go, Mikey.” 

I don’t want to I don’t want to I don’t want to I don’t want to! Mikey wailed, clutching at Raph’s jacket with hands that felt like two white-hot points of pure agony, clinging, holding on. If he let go, Leo stayed gone. If he let go, he really didn’t love Leo enough to save him. 

But Raph pressed his cheek to the top of Mikey’s head, and his next breath shuddered in his chest, and he whispered, “I know you don’t want to, I know. But this isn’t gonna save him. You’re just hurting yourself and L—Leo would hate that. He’d tell you to stop.” One hand crept over to cover both of Mikey’s, squeezing them tight. “Come on, big man. It’s okay. Let go.” 

He let go. The magic faded, dropping everything it had picked up back to the tunnel floor with dull thuds. His hands spasmed wildly, grip nonexistent, and Raph just kept holding them as he carried Mikey home. 

Mikey sobbed for the rest of the night, what felt like hours and hours. Raph reverted to turtle sounds when nothing he said seemed to get through, and Donnie crept under the blanket and plastered himself to Mikey’s carapace so that they had “A little citrus sandwich!” Leo would cheer, the silliest and sweetest turtle in the world until Mikey finally cracked a smile. 

His family made him promise not to try again. It’s not worth it, they said, a unified front—and as much as the words hurt Mikey to hear, it must have hurt his siblings and father just as much to say them. We can’t lose anyone else, they were ready to beg, because they didn’t know it was his fault Leo was gone. They didn’t understand how badly he’d failed them all. If they did, they wouldn’t have been so grimly determined to protect Mikey’s life from his own hands. 

It felt like a betrayal at the time, but he understands now. 

It’s not worth it, he thinks, staring at Gio. I can’t lose anyone else, he’s ready to beg. 

But Mikey knows what it looks like when a brother is about to leave. Mikey knows what it feels like when they’re already gone. 

What he doesn’t know is how to love someone well enough to keep them. 

[sophie-hatter-jenkins]

Meatball

For @jilymicrofics March 2025

This could have done with a bit more editing, but I wanted to get this done for James's birthday!

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

“We always wanted three kids, right from the very beginning,” James tells the man, as he settles back and makes himself comfortable. 

Well, as comfortable as he can, anyway; he’s understandably nervous. Anyone would be, in his situation. 

“Harry, that’s our eldest, came along a little bit sooner than we planned,” he continues, as the man makes some notes on a clipboard. “We’d only been married four months when it happened, barely out of our teens. He’s fifteen now. Fifteen! I can hardly believe it.” He shakes his head, in fond disbelief.

The man, who is wearing a badge on a lanyard that identifies him as Ian Jenkins, hums in response, which James takes as his cue to continue. “It was tough, you know? We were so young, and having a baby was a big adjustment, so we decided to wait a while before we tried again. Lily, that’s my wife, she started taking those Mug… erm… those mug-nificent birth control pills. Said she preferred them to the methods that are popular in… uh… in our community.”

“I see,” says Ian Jenkins. “Now I just need you to—-”

James, now a little flustered after his near-breach of the statue of secrecy on top of his natural apprehension, ignores this and ploughs on with his tale instead. He’s always been a talker, especially when he’s nervous. “It was six years before Daisy came long. She’s the image of her mum, is our Daisy, red hair and green eyes. Gorgeous, her eyes are. Harry got Lily’s eyes too, but otherwise he’s basically my clone. Lucky boy, eh?” he grins.

Ian Jenkins doesn’t respond, merely brandishes his clipboard in James’s direction. “If you wouldn’t mind—

James pays it no attention. “We were a lot better prepared for it, second time round,” he explains. “I think that’s why we didn’t leave it so long next time; there’s only eighteen months between Daisy and Simon. Simon’s the odd one out in the Potter house—blond hair and blue eyes, like Lily’s mum. And her sister, actually, but we don’t like to dwell on that. I honestly thought we were done then—three beautiful kids, exactly what we wanted.” James looks Ian Jenkins in the eye, who seems rather startled.  Now, I know what you’re asking yourself!”

“Actually, I really don’t think that you—”

“What happened?” asks James, very dramatically and entirely rhetorically. “It was when Harry went off to school, you see. Boarding school, the same one Lily and I went to, up in Scotland. It hit us hard, our baby being that grown-up and independent and so far away from us. We thought—well, maybe just one more? Who knows, maybe it was just a moment of madness and we’d have changed our minds, but Lily fell pregnant almost straight away, so that was that. Four kids.”

“And that’s all very interesting, Mr Potter, but—

James chuckles. Honest-to-Merlin chuckles. “Or so we thought, anyway. Turns out, it was actually five! Twins! Can you believe it? That took a bit of getting used to, I can tell you!” He shakes his head at his own naivety. “We thought we knew what we were doing with babies by then, but twins are a whole different set of hoops… erm… yes, very different, anyway. Mia and Elspeth. Lily’s hair, my eyes, absolutely gorgeous but my goodness—they’re three now, but I feel like I’ve aged at least a decade since they were born. I love those girls with every fibre of my being, love all my kids like that, but hand on heart those two are trouble. The idea of them as teenagers is frankly terrifying. I expect they’re my punishment for my own adolescent misbehaviour.”

He grins at Ian Jenkins, who looks back blankly, and James decides that Ian Jenkins would definitely have been a Ravenclaw if he wasn’t a Muggle. “Mr Potter, I really must insist—”

“Anyway, Lily went back on those pills, and we thought that would be fine. And it was; right up until it wasn’t. No idea what went wrong this time. Lily tells me all sorts of things can interfere with them, and the next thing we know, number six is on the way.”

“Mr Potter—”

“Which is amazing, of course, we’re very happy about it. But we thought enough really is enough, and that’s why I’m here really; get it sorted before the littlest Potter arrives in a few months. We’re not getting any younger, are we, and this one really does need to be the last one.”

“Mr Potter—”

“We clearly need something a bit more foolproof, and Lily thought this Mu… uh, this medical procedure would be best. When she explained it to me, I thought she was having me on to begin with, but then she got a pamphlet for me and it’s hard to—”

“MR POTTER!” yells Ian Jenkins, finally at the end of his tether. “I really must insist that if you want to have your vasectomy today, you need to sign the consent form!”

“Yes.” James agrees, taking the clipboard at last. “I can’t say I’m not nervous about the old meatballs, but, yes, I do. On both counts.” He takes a deep breath and scribbles his signature at the bottom of the form and hands it back again. 

Ian Jenkins’s expression softens. “It’s normal to be nervous, Mr Potter. I promise it will be fine. A little tenderness, some bruising and swelling, but it will heal within a few days.”

James nods. “Even if it wasn’t, I reckon Lily’s done more than her bit for team Potter. It’s my turn to step up now.”

Ian Jenkins nods reassuringly. “If you could undress please and lie back, the anaesthetist will be in shortly.”

James does as he’s told. Yes, he’s scared, but he knows this is the right thing. 

He bloody loves his kids. But most of all he bloody loves his wife.

[lewismcqueen]

alcohol-free.

yt22 x black!reader (drabble)

summary: a beach volleyball-related accident leads to a chance encounter while you're on vacation. cw: contrary to the title, there is alcohol consumption here. i just really wanted to make a twice reference. reference to implied sex. milton keynes slander. a/n: hello yuki girls...can i sit with you guys...this is my first fic for him !

“Heads up!” 

You kick up sand beneath your feet as you rush with hands clasped in front of you to return your friend’s lightning-quick serve. The white volleyball hits the sweet spot where the flat of your forearms are, flying over the net. Emi—the friend in question—nearly stumbles trying to keep it in the air on the opposite side, her long dreads flying behind her. She does, and it zips straight towards you again. 

Of course, you hit it again in a clean, wide arc. A very wide arc. Maybe a bit too wide. 

You gasp, standing frozen in shock as the ball hurtles over Emi's head, and into a cluster of multi-colored beach umbrellas. You hear a man yelp from beneath one of them.

As soon as the situation fully registers, you’re speed-walking towards the umbrellas with your friend nervously in tow. About halfway there, you spot someone who seems to have picked up your ball. A man in black swimming trunks approaches, and you stop dead in your tracks.

He’s on the shorter side—you’re just a bit over eye level with him—with a sturdy, muscular stature. Your eyes catch on two glinting dog tags that sit over a lightly-tanned, bare chest. Your volleyball is tucked beneath his arm. 

Running a hand through mid-length, jet black hair, he seems to be looking around to try and locate the culprit, dark brows furrowed in frustration. Worriedly, you think, He looks like he’s about to cuss somebody out.

-

Yuki was about ready to curse someone out as he stalked across the beach, the offending volleyball in-hand. He was in the middle of developing a particularly gorgeous tan when it whacked him on the side of his head and made him spill the bottle of Gatorade he had been sipping leisurely all over himself. Probably someone’s dumbass kid.

Was he injured? No. But was his day ruined? Most certainly. 

As he moved in the direction that the ball seemed to have come from, two women seemed to be approaching. One was dark-skinned, wearing a cropped jersey and white shorts with long braids swinging behind her back, the other was of a lighter complexion, wearing a black bikini top with a red cloth wrapped around her waist. Her dreadlocks were tied up into a high ponytail. The first woman looked worried, smooth temples creased slightly as they got closer. Round, gleaming dark eyes locked with his, and Yuki realized that he was looking at the culprit in question. She seemed like the sportier of the two. The woman’s full, almost heart-shaped lips were downturned into a frown. They looked impossibly shiny, likely some sort of lip gloss. 

Okay, day slightly less ruined.

After a few moments of awkward silence, the woman parted those beautiful lips to speak.

“Hey, um, I’m really sorry, but I think that’s our ball,” she began.

Yuki couldn’t place her accent. Vaguely southern, but he’d be hard-pressed to name a particular state. He couldn’t tell the difference. Her voice was light and airy. He thought of soft, clean linen for some reason. She began messing with the ends of her braids nervously, which made him smile. What the hell was she so nervous about? It’s just a ball. It just smacked me in the face, no big deal. I’ve been in car crashes that were far worse.

“I hit it way over the net and saw it fall somewhere back there,” she tilted her chin over at where Yuki had been resting. She placed a hand over her heart. “Did we hit you? I’m so sorry.”

“No, not at all!” He beamed. “It just…landed next to me.”

Your eyes widened slightly, and his chest swelled. “Oh, that’s good!”

Yuki took in all of the contours of your face—your rounded cheeks, the width of your nose, the way your lips scrunched to one side of your face as you seemed to be waiting for…something.

Oh.

“Ah, your ball,” Yuki took a step forward, pushing it towards you. “Sorry.”

You gave him a polite smile. “Thanks.”

Your fingers brushed momentarily as you took it from him, and he marveled silently at how soft your hands were even beneath the rough grains of sand that dusted them. 

Before he could gather his wits and introduce himself you were walking away, leaving him to reluctantly return to his spot on the beach as your figure retreated in the other direction. 

-

“He was so into you, why didn’t you say anything?”

You yelped when Emi playfully smacked you upside the head as you sat near where the ocean lapped at the shore, pushing sand gently back and forth. You pushed her hand away.

“No he was not! He was just being nice.”

She looked unconvinced. “Girl, I was standing right behind you. He was looking you up and down.”

“Please, you just tryna set me up with somebody while we’re on vacation,” You picked up a small, creamy-white shell that washed up by your feet and examined its grooves. “He sounded like he wasn’t from here.”

Emi leaned back on her palms, watching the sunset. “Right? He sounded kinda British actually. British and somethin’ else. Who knows? You might get flown out to London.”

You laughed and shook your head.

“Emi, it’s not gonna happen.”

“Alright, but if you see that fine man again and don’t say nothing, I’m gonna be mad at you.”

-

You sat cross-legged on a leather stool, partially regretting letting Emi drag you to a crowded bar on a weekend. The only plus was that she’d taken you shopping the week before for a new ‘going out’ dress—a silky black mini with a boat neck that was completely backless. She’d joked that it was “business in the front, party in the back.” You weren’t used to showing off this much thigh, but seeing her sat next to you in a bright red bodycon dress of equal length made you feel a bit better about it. 

You were still scanning the special menu on the chalkboard when the bartender slid you a glass. A lemon drop martini, with a slice of lemon stuck on the edge. You gave the man a questioning look. He nodded.

“From the gentleman on the far right in the black shirt. Feel free to send it back if you don’t want it.”

You looked over in the direction the bartender gave, and your eyes nearly popped out of your skull. There, smiling timidly at you from across the bar, was the man who’d retrieved your volleyball at the beach. His shirt had a few buttons left open, revealing his collarbone and the valley of his chest. There were the silver dog tags again; he seemed to really like showing them off. His hair looked a tad bit neater, like he’d hastily styled it before coming here. It swept across his forehead as if the wind had gently blown it into place.

A half-smile spreading across your lips, you accepted the drink. It was the right amount of sweet and sour, dancing over your tongue and quieting your nerves as you sipped. You heard Emi giggling beside you, but when you turned, the seat was empty. That girl is a piece of work, you thought to yourself before looking back up to meet the man’s eyes. 

“Do you wanna sit here?” You mouthed, pointing at the seat. He wasted no time hopping off of his seat to maneuver his way through the crowd, which made you laugh. 

Once the man sat down next to you, you finally got a closer look at him. Curious, almond-shaped brown eyes that darted around as he observed you just as closely. Short face and nose, full, pink lips over which there was a bit of grayness, as if he forgot to shave. You weren’t completely sure if you minded; from an angle it made him look almost a bit rugged. Without the distraction of bare skin and musculature, you came to the conclusion that he was still cute. 

“Are you finished staring at me?” He asked frankly, those lips curling up into an impish smile. It revealed a slight gap tooth that you immediately found charming. You took another coy sip of your drink. Dimples, too.

“Yeah, all done,” you joked in return. He placed his forearms on the counter and leaned forward. 

“What do you think?”

“I think I like what I see.”

He laughed quietly. “Good. Feeling is mutual.”

“So what’s your name?”

“Yuki.Yours?”

You gave him your name and he repeated it, carefully trying out the syllables on his tongue. “You’re Japanese?”

Yuki nodded. “Haven’t been home in a while, though. I used to live in the UK not long ago.”

You rested your chin in your palm. “Where in the UK?”

“Milton Keynes,” he said with disdain, his nose scrunching like he’d just smelled something foul. “Don’t go there, by the way. The food is utter shite.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” you chuckled. “Where do you live now?”

His face lit up. “Italy. Much better eating there.”

International student, you tried guessing. 

“Sounds like you travel a lot for you to end up all the way in Miami.”

“I do. My job takes me all over the place, so for this week I’m here.”

Okay, so not a student. “What do you do, then?”

Yuki’s lips twitched in amusement, like he was keeping a cheeky little secret. “I play sports.”

Immediately, you began sifting through all of the sports you knew of that you could visualize the man playing. He didn’t look like any Japanese footballers you’d seen before, and basketball was a non-starter. You settled on baseball. He had the build for it. 

Yuki briefly turned to the bartender to order a whiskey on the rocks while you nursed your lemon drop. 

“Do you get to have any fun? Traveling the world, I mean.”

He emptied half his glass and gently placed it in front of him before twisting his whole body to face you, thighs spread wide like a cowboy at a saloon. He grinned and rested his head on his knuckles. It seemed you had both needed some liquid courage.

“I have plenty of fun. I get to meet girls like you, for example.”

Truth be told, it wasn’t the best pick-up line you’d ever heard, but it thrilled you to watch him put on a show just to keep your attention. Your gaze roamed over his thighs, then over the belt holding up his blue jeans. It had a flashy buckle, gleaming in the low light of the bar, right above his crotch. 

You arched an eyebrow.

“You say that to all the girls you meet?”

Yuki stared at you through his lashes. “You’re the first one I’ve ever said it to.”

You watched him intently over your glass as you finished off the rest of your drink. He gave you a mischievous look while doing the same, awaiting a response. Heat gathered in your abdomen when his knee brushed against yours beneath the counter.

“You say you’re out here for about a week?”

His voice became low as he drawled, “Only a week, then I’m gone.”

You felt your phone buzz in your purse, but ignored it. Probably Emi, announcing that she was taking an Uber home. 

“Let’s get outta here and make the most of it, then.”

-

Yuki led you to a bright red sports car that still smelled new and squeaked as you sat on the cool leather of the passenger’s seat. You asked him if Milton Keynes was really that bad, he asked you if you’d ever had alligator meat before (the answers being ‘yes’ to both). As the conversation progressed, his eyes began to float over your form more intensely at every red light. He cursed the traffic each time as his fingers brushed your thigh. You giggled every time he told you that your skin was ‘so soft’, obviously making up excuses to touch you.

You ended the night beneath the lemon-fragranced sheets of a luxury hotel room, Yuki knocked out cold beside you. You turned your wrists back and forth gently. They felt sore after being pinned over your head for so long. So as to not worry Emi, you reached over towards the nightstand and unlocked your phone. There were two unread messages, each one an hour apart.

Emz: I’ll be in the back if you need me babes (please just go fuck that man y’all taking too long)

Emz: hey bb went back to the hotel. Tell me when you make your way back or if your mission was successful <3

You stifled a laugh, trying not to wake Yuki as you typed up a reply.

You: hey girl i’m safe just in his room lol

You: mission successful 🫡

[couldyouimagine-that]

Trust

Genre; bit of angst, hurt/comfort

Word count; 2.0k

Warnings; canon typical violence (Sam, Dean, Castiel and the Reader are on a hunt), Dean is a bit mean to the reader, 100% made up lore

Pairing; Lucifer (Supernatural) x Reader

Lucifer offers you some comfort after an argument with Dean, caused by him changing the plan during a hunt without telling you.

I am working on Pt. 2 of 'I'm So Sorry' I PROMISE but this idea came to me and refused to leave me alone. Enjoy!

Masterlist

-

You rounded the last corner, panting heavily as you held your angel blade aloft in your hand, at a loss for what else would work against the monster chasing you down.

“Now guys!” You yelled, clearing the final doorway. The Winchesters and Castiel would be waiting for you just beyond it, ready to close the last two doors to trap the monster in a short section of corridor whilst you worked out how to kill it. Lucifer was waiting outside the old warehouse as an extra safeguard since he refused to leave the Men of Letters bunker (his own safety net, so he claimed) and the Winchesters refused to leave him there alone. Since even an archangel couldn’t destroy this monster, it was something of an all hands-on-deck situation.

Your steps slowed as you reached safety, even when you looked around to see your friends were not there. A bolt of panic seized your chest when you realised they really weren’t there.

“Guys? Guys!”

No answer.

You spun around when an awful snarling reverberated around you. The creature stalked through the final doorway, hackles raised and crouched low as it prowled. Another snarl brought your heart into your throat.

You cast around one final time, but there was no help to be found. Maybe there was more than one monster? Maybe they had been ambushed by angels, or demons, or any one of a thousand other opposing forces who wanted you all dead. Whatever it was, it meant you were on your own. You didn’t dare think about what could have happened to them.

Drawing your blade, you faced the monster head on. You would go down fighting, even if it was the last thing you did. The monster lined itself up, head down, lips peeled back to reveal its glistening teeth. It charged – and the old water sprinkler system designed to put out fires started up. But the liquid that fell on your skin left behind a sticky quality. It smelled like vinegar. But you had no time to contemplate. Your gaze snapped up at the monster’s screaming, its fur smoking as its flesh began to peel away from its bones. You were left staring in shock as it collapsed on its side, its life force dwindling down to nothing.

“Oh yeah!”

You spun again at the excited exclamation from none other than Dean, who had sauntered in through a door which had previously been locked. He swaggered straight past you to get a closer look at the beast, smirking and talking big about the victory. Sam and Castiel followed into the room once the sprinklers had been shut off, the former wearing a pleased smile. Dean nodded slowly to himself like he had done something truly commendable, then turned his self-satisfied expression on you.

You were not smiling.

“Come on, Y/N, why the long face? We ganked that bitch!”

Your anger was warring with how upset you felt and you almost walked away from the situation entirely.

“Are you kidding me?” Sam and Castiel looked over at your tone. Dean just seemed confused. “You changed the plan without telling me. You risked my life, and you lied.” Dean was on the defensive immediately, trying to coax you into joining his celebration.

“Yeah, but it worked! Ordinary run-of-the-mill vinegar, who’d have thought!”

He started laughing, clearly forced when you didn’t join in, then looked to the others for support.

“You didn’t know those water pipes would work,” you said lowly. “And you wouldn’t have gotten here in time to help me if it hadn’t.” Dean’s face fell as he started to take you more seriously.

“Look, I’m sorry. Alright? We only just found out how to kill it and we didn’t have enough time to tell you. We still needed it in this room and you were the easiest way to do that, that’s just how it goes sometimes. We killed it, you’re fine. You can’t get caught up on what ifs.”

You felt your jaw tense up, a fire lit within your chest. You could have died, thought you were going to even, not a few minutes previously. Not to mention your fear of what could have happened to your friends. It was made even worse by the feeling of betrayal at what Dean had chosen to do. The others, too – they had all decided to put you in that situation behind your back. Dean was saved from what you were sure would have been one hell of a tirade by Castiel, who chose that moment to announce his opinion.

“I did say we should have told them, Dean.” You glanced over at him, not expecting such a confession. The bitter, truthfully frightened part of you still said it didn’t matter, since he hadn’t cared enough to either tell you or stop the plan altogether.

“Excuse me?” You knew exactly the look he was levelling his friend with, having been on the receiving end of it more than once. The last thing you wanted to do was bear witness to any more of this conversation.

“Let’s just get out of here,” you muttered, making your way towards the last place Lucifer had been.

You walked ahead, not bothering to check if the others followed. The case was pretty close to where you lived, so even though Castiel had transported you all to the warehouse, Sam and Dean had dropped off some things at your place first for the sake of convenience. When you got outside, Lucifer was leaning against a wall, arms crossed loosely and seemingly deep in thought. He straightened when he saw you, offering a sharp smile. His voice was honeyed when he spoke, and right or wrong, you couldn’t really say you minded.

“Got the hunt all wrapped up?” He asked, his face dropping to a light frown when you didn’t answer. You doubted he cared all that much, but he seemed to at least be enjoying the pretence if he didn’t. “Something happen?”

You gave him a tight-lipped smile. Dean clapped his hands together when he arrived a moment later, accompanied by the words let’s go. You appeared in your kitchen and immediately set to work checking your windows and closing your blinds, more than eager to go to bed. This was normally the point at which you offered the boys a beer, on the rare occasion they made it to your place.

“Okay,” Dean muttered from somewhere behind you. “Cas?”

So he wasn’t even going to speak to you before they left?

“Y/N, I’m sorry.” Sam’s expressive face was more than apologetic when you turned around. “We really didn’t have time to tell you. I mean maybe Cas could have gotten you out, but it would have been a matter of seconds and we knew the vinegar would work. If the irrigation system had failed, of course we would have stepped in. But it didn’t come to that. Things just changed quickly, please try to understand.” You accepted his apology, by now just somewhat deflated. You ignored Dean’s derisive scoff.

“C’mon Satan, let’s go.” That was equally as derisive, but you had noticed Lucifer stood further apart from the others than usual. He was watching you carefully, as if trying to will you into understanding what he was thinking. Naturally that was an impossible feat, but you had spent more than one long evening in each other’s company and in a moment of pettiness, you saw an opportunity to wind up Dean.

“He can stay if he wants.”

You could have heard a pin drop in the silence that followed, but you simply gave a nonchalant shrug and went back to what you were doing.

“Are you kidding me?” Dean yelled, storming up to you and grabbing a shoulder to turn you towards him. “Are you that desperate to prove a point, really? I apologised; Sam apologised. What more do you want?” The grin which settled on your lips was malicious.

“I don’t want anything. All I’m saying is that it really comes to something when the devil is the only person who doesn’t lie to you in a group of people you consider to be your friends. So like I said, he can stay if he wants. The rest of you should go.”

You hadn’t seen Dean look genuinely surprised all that many times, but he certainly didn’t know what to say at that moment. His grip on your shirt loosened, but even Castiel calling his name didn’t break him out of his stupor. The angel sighed heavily, simply placing a hand on Dean’s back and transporting themselves and Sam, who had been watching on in somewhat mute silence, away without another word. Satan, on the other hand, was still standing in your kitchen and now looking at you with something akin to admiration.

“You’re brave,” he murmured, eyes sparking as if he was sharing some secret with you that he wasn’t supposed to be. You did feel a brief flicker of fear. For all your bravado and your relative confidence around Lucifer, you had absolutely no way to defend yourself against him if his mood changed. You hoped Castiel wouldn’t have left the way he did if he thought you were in any real danger.

“I was kinda going off the basis that if you wanted me dead, I would be,” you said, very quietly. “Please don’t tell me I was wrong.” He laughed, just a little bit.

“You’re not wrong. What would be the point in killing you?”

You nodded slowly, your expression conveying fair enough. Lucifer took it upon himself to find a surface to lean against, watching as you busied yourself with your few preparations for the night. You leaned against something too for a moment, organising your thoughts.

“I don’t mind if you stay,” you said slowly, “but I really need to go to sleep.”

“Tell me what happened on the hunt first?” You held back your sigh.

“Can we sit down somewhere?”

Lucifer snapped his fingers and you found yourself sitting next to him on your couch. He took the opportunity to stretch an arm out behind you, giving you a little smirk when you raised your eyebrow at him. You deliberated for a moment but accepted the invitation, laying your head back against his arm. He drew you in close to his shoulder, glancing down at the top of your head – privately enjoying the display of trust you were showing him – then looking out across the room as he listened to you speak. You only explained briefly, not least because you doubted he cared all that much. But he started smoothing his thumb across your shoulder, even squeezed you in closer to him for a moment.

“You know you could have prayed to me, right?” When you looked up in surprise, he wore no hint of a smile. “I would have answered. You wouldn’t even need to say it out loud. If you just thought about me, I’d be there.”

I didn’t realise – thank you for saying that –

“Why?”

Your eyes widened slightly when you realised the response you had given him out loud. You hoped he had heard what you thought as well. Lucifer tilted his head slightly, slowly angling his shoulders towards you. You felt pinned beneath his gaze, his easy confidence almost overwhelming.

“Thought you ‘really needed to go to sleep’?”

There was amusement in his eyes, but it was clear he had no intention of answering your question. You huffed a breath and leaned back against him more heavily this time. Lucifer moved again after a moment of silence, kicking your legs up onto the couch with one of his own and shifting around until he was laying down behind you. His arm now rested over your stomach, fingertips lightly brushing your ribs. You dared a glance up at him to find he seemed to just be staring past the ceiling, lost in thought. He still offered you a calm smile and a murmured go to sleep, and for reasons you couldn’t comprehend, you felt safe enough to do exactly that. Lucifer enjoyed the gentle weight of your head on his shoulder as you settled down and drifted off. He had no intention of sleeping himself, but he was certainly enjoying the moment.

[supernovafics]

Hi! I recently found your "I'll be there for you" universe and I love it.

I was wondering if you'd want to do a sick fic where reader gets a sudden fever/body aches/chills/so on and tries to shrug it off as no big deal even though it absolutely is and Steve, the ultimate caretaker he is, forgets all about his plans for the evening to stay in and take care of them. Thank you, have a great week!

𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 4.7k words

warnings: explicit language, descriptions of sickness/being sick, brief mentions of parental neglect, mentions of weed, overall very soft and wholesome and cozy<3

summary: in which you and steve are sick on christmas 

author's note: thank u for the request !! when i started this series one of the first ideas i had was something where reader and steve are sick during the holidays so this request fit with that perfectly<33 i couldn't really figure out how to end this so it kinda just ends lmao

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Winter 1985

“This is your fault,” You told Steve as you sniffled.

“I know, I know,” He responded— he had been hearing your grumbling from the moment you woke up, so he was pretty much used to it by now. He walked over to where you were sitting on the couch and held out a capful of cough syrup for you to grab. “Here. Take this.” 

“Thank you,” You mumbled as you drank the medicine and then immediately went to grab your glass of water sitting on the coffee table because of how strong and bitter the cherry flavoring was. “Ugh.”

You now fully regretted that moment a few nights ago where you and Steve sat out on the fire escape and smoked weed in the freezing weather; an idea that had fully been Steve’s. It was fun in the moment, even though you could barely remember most of the conversation the two of you had, but a hint of a cold started building from the second you woke up that next morning and now it was at its worst. You currently had a stuffy nose and a horrible cough that gave you the shittiest headache. And after hours of laying in your bed and falling in and out of sleep, you finally decided to go out into the living room and complain to your best friend about how much you blamed him for your current sickness. 

“Can you pass me the blanket, please?” You asked, pointing to the one that was laying on the back of one of the dining table chairs; it was barely five feet away but you didn’t have it in you to move out of the comfortable position you found yourself in on the couch. 

“You become such a baby when you’re sick,” Steve told you with a roll of his eyes that you knew wasn’t serious as he handed you the knitted throw blanket, which you immediately wrapped around yourself after putting your water back down.

“Oh, whatever. I swear you’re always worse than me,” You said with your own eye roll; if he was closer to you, you would’ve given his arm a light smack. Your gaze moved upward, taking note of the time on the clock that hung on the wall above the television; it was a small round red clock that Steve had thrifted a few months ago. “Anyway, when are you heading to the Wheeler’s Christmas Eve party? Make sure you have fun for the both of us, and bring me back some of those gingerbread cookies that Karen makes.”

Steve sat next to you on the couch. “I’m not gonna go to the party.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed in both surprise and confusion when you heard him say that because he loved going to that holiday party just as much as you did. All of the kids would be there as well as Robin and Eddie, and always at some point during the night, you all would end up migrating downstairs to the basement away from the real adults. The kids and Eddie would start playing D&D as you, Robin, and Steve sat on the sidelines watching the madness unfold. And then eventually the three of you would simply start playing random card games with Nancy and Jonathan. 

“I won’t be mad if you go. Jokingly, yes— I’ll probably pretend to be mad at you for going for the next few days. But, I’m not actually,” You told him and then sniffled again because you couldn’t help it.

“No, it’s okay,” He said as he leaned back on the couch. “I don’t wanna go without you.”

“You sure?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Okay, well, in that case,” You scooted closer to him on the couch and leaned your head on his shoulder. It was a position that never failed to comfort you, and you especially needed that in this moment where your body was telling you that you needed to sleep and the cough syrup you just took was making it easier to do so. “Thank you.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You weren’t entirely sure how or when you ended up in your bed, but you were happy about it. It was now dark outside and the digital clock sitting on your nightstand told you that the time was only nine o’clock. 

You turned on your side and saw Steve next to you— head against one of your pillows, eyes shut, and lips slightly parted. It was a nice surprise seeing him asleep next to you, but you also knew that he probably shouldn’t be. 

You reached out and lightly poked his cheek a few times. His eyes slowly opened just for a second before closing again and he let out a soft, “Hm?”

“You’re gonna get sick too if you sleep here,” You told him. 

“I wanna stay close just in case you need something.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that. “And you wonder why I act like a baby when I’m sick. It’s because you treat me like one.” 

“Well, someone has to.” Steve shrugged through his half-asleep daze and you knew exactly what he meant by his words. 

When you were younger, before you met him, you had gotten so used to taking care of yourself because your parents weren’t the type to do much; your dad was always on some sort of business trip and your mom was always busy working at her office. You honestly couldn’t remember the last time either of them gave you medicine or soup or even worried about you at all when you got sick. However, the day your parents met Steve’s on that cruise and it was discovered that you all lived in towns that were only twenty minutes away from one another, things changed— you and Steve started taking care of each other. 

In tenth grade when you got the flu, he spent his lunchtime every day that week driving to your house to check on you. And even though he hated school, he’d still go to yours and pick up your assignments from one of your friends, and he’d help you do most of them so you didn’t fall behind too much; most of it was wrong, but it was the thought that counted. And when he got sick last Summer, you spent every night at his house until he felt better. It was slightly funny because those four days led you to getting sick the next week, and it felt like that same thing was about to happen in this instance. 

“You saying that just reminded me that I need to call my mom and tell her that I can’t come to the Christmas brunch thing she set up with my Aunt and cousin,” You shifted a bit and pulled the blanket higher over you. “Now, I’m actually glad that I’m sick.” 

“I already called and told her while you were sleeping, but she didn’t really believe me, so yeah you should probably call her too,” Steve said, which made you laugh a bit.

“That’s actually not surprising. I’ll call in the morning,” You said and then yawned. “You don’t have to go to your parent’s tomorrow, right?”

“Nope, they’re in California for this business thing my dad has to be at.”

“Nice,” You responded with a small nod. “For some reason, I can’t remember the last time it was just you and me during Christmas.”

“Ninth grade,” Steve said with a small sleepy smile on his face and his eyes opened again. “My parents were out of town, and then yours had to leave too to do something last second. We had the great idea to set up the tent I got in sixth grade and camp out in my backyard.”

“Oh, yeah,” You said, laughing at the memory. “We got way too cold around one in the morning and decided to just sleep in front of the fireplace in the living room.” 

“I wish this place had a fireplace.”

“We can sleep in front of the radiator?”

Steve thought about your suggestion for a second before shaking his head. “Not the same.”

“Okay, that’s true,” You said with a quick nod before reaching beneath the blanket and lightly poking his t-shirt covered side. “Hey, do you remember what I got you that year?”

Steve immediately let out a laugh. “Yes, and I actually still have that Mickey Mouse poster.” 

You turned away from him then and covered your face with your hands. “Oh, God. No, you don’t. You’re kidding.”

“Yes, I do,” Steve said and you could practically hear the smile in his voice. “It’s rolled up in my closet. I would go grab it, but I’m too tired to move right now.”

You remembered exactly how excited you had been to give him that poster, which was supposed to be a really cool picture of one of his favorite basketball players, and the guy that you bought it from at the flea market even told you that it was signed. But when Steve pulled it out of the plastic and unrolled it in his living room on Christmas, instead of it being anywhere close to a photo of any basketball player, it was a picture of Mickey Mouse on a train.

“I’m still so embarrassed and mad that the sales guy at that flea market tricked me,” You said and sighed. You were still a little upset with yourself that you didn’t make him open up the poster and show it to you before you bought it, but he said that was “against the rules” since it was sealed in the plastic, and that reasoning had somewhat made sense to you. “And it’s not like I could try to return it or yell at him because the flea market was only here for a weekend.”

“Now that you’ve brought it up, I think we should hang the poster up in the living room. Maybe where the dining table is?” 

You turned to face Steve again. “I will never allow that to happen.”

“I guess I’ll just have to put it up when you fall asleep,” He said, and you ignored his overdramatic wince when you playfully punched his arm. “Do you remember what I got you for Christmas that year?” 

“Of course,” You nodded. You still had that silver bracelet he got you, and you were a thousand percent certain that you would keep it forever, even though now it just sat in your jewelry box because the clasp broke sometime last year. “I still can’t figure out how to fix that damn clasp.”

“I could just get you another one.”

“Not the same,” You told him with a quick shake of your head. “One day I’ll figure out how to fix it.”

“Okay,” He said and then brought up a different time that the two of you decided to try camping in his backyard, which was in the Summer and on a very warm night, but you and him still didn’t fully spend the night outside because there were too many bugs. 

You laughed at the memory as Steve talked about it now because it just reminded you that you and him were probably the least “outdoorsy” people ever, but somehow that never stopped either of you from trying to be. 

That was how the rest of the night went; reminiscing about more random stuff— memories from various moments of your friendship that always made you smile or laugh or even feel a little bit embarrassed— until both of you fell asleep again. And it wasn’t the biggest surprise when Steve woke up in the morning sniffling.

“I told you this would happen,” You said to him as you walked back to your bed, cough syrup in hand because you knew that he’d be needing it. You were actually feeling the tiniest bit better; still pretty bad but not as horrible as yesterday.

“Merry Christmas to you too,” He grumbled as he rubbed the tiredness out of his eyes and then sneezed.

“Here. Take this,” You said with a small smile, mimicking the same words he had said to you yesterday. 

“Our roles changed way too fast,” Steve said before drinking the capful of cough syrup. “I was supposed to be taking care of you, and now you’re the one taking care of me.”

“We’ll take shifts on who gets to be the more helpless one,” You told him amusingly. “Right now it’s your turn. Do you want some water?”

He nodded and you went to the kitchen to grab a bottle and then handed it over to him before you settled back in the bed. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

A handful of hours passed, all of which marked the most boring Christmas you’d probably ever had; but you’d take this silence and sickness over a tense brunch with your mom any day.

You were reading a book and Steve was still asleep next to you, turned on his side and blanket covering his head. A knock on the front door pulled your focus away from the page you were in the middle of reading.

You really didn’t feel like getting out of bed to answer it, but you also didn’t want to wake Steve and make him go do it, so with a sigh, you closed your book and placed it on the nightstand and then walked out of your bedroom. You headed to the couch first to grab the knitted throw blanket and wrap it around your shoulders so that it covered your bare legs, and then you proceeded to answer the door. 

Miss Johnson, the sweet older woman that lived a few doors down, stood in front of you with a red and green plaid patterned tin of what you assumed were the Christmas cookies that she told you about the first time you met. When you and Steve moved into the building, she introduced herself on that first day and gave you a welcome basket of muffins that were probably the best muffins that both you and Steve had ever had, and she also mentioned that for the holidays she gave out cookies to people in the building.  

She smiled at you for a brief second before a surprised look crossed her face. “Hi– Oh, you look terrible. What happened?”

Somehow the brutal honesty actually felt more sweet and worried than rude; and it warmed your heart and simultaneously hurt it so fucking bad that she was the only older adult in your life that actually seemed to care. 

You let out a small cough. “Me and Steve are sick right now. Just a cold.”

“Oh no, that stinks,” She said with a frown, and then held the tin out toward you. “Here take these cookies and I’ll be right back. Let me go make you both some soup.”

You grabbed the tin and smiled at her. “Thank you so much for the cookies, but you don’t have to make us soup.” 

In all honesty, you would’ve loved soup at that moment because you and Steve hadn’t eaten all day aside from the two slices of buttered toast that he made around noon, since neither of you could really be bothered to make anything else. But, Miss Johnson had already made the cookies for you two, so you felt bad about her also doing this for you and Steve. 

She shook her head at you. “No, no, it’s not a problem at all. I know I already have all of the ingredients, so it’ll just take me fifteen minutes, twenty tops.”

You were about to assure her again that she really didn’t have to do that, but she was already walking away and heading back down the hall before any word could leave your mouth. 

There was something about the gesture that felt way too sweet and nice, and it made you wish that you had someone like her in your life when you were younger. And then that thought made you feel so fucking grateful that for the past almost ten years, you had Steve. 

You placed the cookie tin on the kitchen counter and then tightened your blanket around you. You could see from the large window that led out to the fire escape that the sun was beginning to set, and as you got closer and peaked below at the street, you saw that some snow still lingered on the ground from when it came down a few days ago; the same night that you and Steve sat out on the fire escape.

The sudden sound of Steve saying, “Please don’t go out there. I don’t wanna repeat this sick cycle,” made you turn around and look at your best friend. He had slipped on a hoodie, which was yours (although back in high school it technically had been his), and his hair was the messiest you’d seen it in a while, and that let you know exactly how bad he was probably feeling right then. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not going out there without an actual jacket anytime soon.”

“Okay, good,” He yawned and then smiled when he saw what was on the counter. “Miss Johnson brought the cookies?”

“Yes,” You said, walking back to the kitchen and watching as Steve opened up the tin. There were at least a dozen cookies in it; a mixture of Christmas trees, Santa Clauses, and snowflakes. “She also went to go make us soup since we’re sick.”

“She’s way too nice to us,” Steve said and grabbed one of the Santa Claus cookies.

“I agree,” You told him, deciding to grab a snowflake cookie for yourself. “Meanwhile, we’re horrible people and didn’t even think about getting her something for Christmas. Once we’re better we have to get her something.”

“Yeah. We can get her a nice sweater or cardigan,” Steve said, and you nodded at that suggestion; whenever either of you saw Miss Johnson she was almost always wearing some sort of fun and colorful cardigan so that idea felt right. He took another bite of the cookie in his hand and then looked at you. “Will this ruin our appetite?”

“Considering the fact that we’ve barely had anything to eat today since we’ve felt so shitty, I don’t think that there’s really an appetite to ruin.”

“Very true.”

The two of you migrated to the couch, bringing the cookie tin along with you, and mindlessly watched the Charlie Brown Christmas special that played on television as you ate some more cookies. 

When there was another knock on the door twenty minutes later, right as the Charlie Brown episode ended, you looked at Steve and pulled your legs off his lap. “Your turn to get it.” 

He nodded and got up, running a quick hand through his hair, which didn’t really do much to tame it, before opening the door. 

“Hi, Miss Johnson,” Steve said, and even though he was facing away from you, you could hear the smile in his voice. He received a smile back as she handed him a full tupperware of soup. “Thank you. You really didn’t have to make this for us.”

“It’s really no problem. I hope you two feel better soon,” She responded. “And also here are some tea bags. You guys should be drinking that too.” 

You watched as she put a few in Steve’s free hand. Neither you nor him really liked tea, but you weren’t about to tell Miss Johnson that when she was being so damn nice and thoughtful. 

“Thank you so much,” You said from the couch and smiled at her. “Also, we’ve already tried some of the cookies and they’re amazing.”

“Just wait until you try the chocolates I make for Valentine’s Day,” She said and you smiled even wider at that. 

“Can’t wait.”

She said her final goodbyes and headed back down the hall to her apartment after telling you both that you could knock on her door if you needed anything; more soup, medicine, etc. And that offer, which sounded completely genuine, only further confirmed the fact that you and Steve definitely needed to get her a gift as soon as possible. 

Steve pulled two bowls out of one of the cabinets and split the soup, which you then learned was chicken noodle, evenly in both of them and then handed one over to you. 

“Thanks,” You said as he also gave you a spoon and then sat down on the couch again. 

He took control of the TV remote and you didn’t argue when he stopped on a channel that was playing a James Bond movie. After finishing your soup, you maneuvered around so that you were laying down and your head was in his lap and you fell asleep just like that. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Another set of hours passed, although you were unaware of exactly how many. You were woken up by the feeling of Steve softly stroking your ear; which he knew would always either annoy you or make you laugh because of how much it tickled— most of the time it was both. This time was no different. 

You were laughing as you shooed his hand away. “Stop that.”

“I needed to wake you up.”

You looked up at him and rubbed your eyes. “What time is it?”

“Almost ten.”

You nodded at his answer and then suddenly realized through your half asleep daze why he decided to wake you right then. “Oh, we have to open the presents.”

From that very first Christmas you spent together, it was agreed upon that you would do your gift exchange at night— once you both were done being stuck all day with your parents and other family members that you never saw any other time of the year. 

You’d sneak off to his house once those family members were gone and your parents were asleep, or he’d come to yours, and then you’d exchange gifts and almost always end up talking about nothing until the morning. 

You sat up. “I’m just now realizing that we could’ve done it earlier today.”

“Yeah, but that would’ve broken the tradition,” Steve said and you agreed with that, there was something about always doing the gift exchange at night that felt like the only way to do it at this point.

You went into your bedroom and grabbed Steve��s present that you had stashed away in your closet. When you left your room, you saw that he was already sitting next to the small Christmas tree that sat lit up in the corner close by the window and he was holding what you rightly assumed was your gift from him. 

The tree was so small that it didn’t make sense to put gifts under it, so that was why you kept the one you got for Steve in your room and he had yours in his. The only things that did sit next to the tree and slightly under it were the little presents that you both got for Harold the Hamster. 

“Merry Christmas, Stevie,” You said, sitting down next to him and giving him his gift. He let out a laugh when he noticed that the green wrapping paper had pictures of polar bears wearing Santa hats on it— when you had seen it weeks ago at the store, you thought it was adorably funny and knew you had to get it.

He handed over the gift he got you and the sight of his messy wrapping job made you smile. “Merry Christmas.” 

The nostalgic sound of wrapping paper ripping could be heard as you tore into your gift. A happy yelp emitted from your lips when you saw the vinyl of The Breakfast Club soundtrack. It was quite literally the perfect gift— you had held the tape of the movie that you rented from Steve’s Family Video hostage for a month straight when they first got it in, and sometimes you’d watch the movie just to hear the songs.

“After how many times you watched the movie this year, this felt very fitting,” Steve told you. He hadn't opened his gift yet, and instead, he was playing with the red bow that was placed on top of it; he always liked to see your reaction first.

You looked at him and smiled. “I hope you’re prepared to hear this at least three times a week for the next few months.” 

He laughed a bit. “I knew you were going to say that, and I’ve already accepted the fact that I will have to hear Don’t You Forget About Me on an endless loop for a while.” 

“Good,” You said, still smiling, and then you bumped your knee with his. “Open yours.”

Steve finally started opening your gift for him, tearing the wrapping paper off to reveal a shoebox, which had a new pair of white Nikes inside. They were the same as the pair he already had that had the red “swoosh” on the side, but that pair was now a lot less white since he had them since Sophomore year of high school and he’d wear them almost religiously. 

“It’s time to retire the ones you’ve had for the past three years,” You said as he pulled out one of the sneakers. “Oh, also, there’s a note at the bottom of the box.” 

Steve put the one sneaker down and then grabbed the small notecard with your handwriting on it that was buried underneath the other one. “‘This is long overdue. You probably should’ve gotten rid of your last pair after the basketball season ended Senior year. And speaking of basketball, after your many years of begging and pleading I will finally grant your wish and play basketball with you. You’re welcome. Shit, I already regret writing this.’” He looked at you, a smile growing on his face. “You’re serious?” 

“Sadly, yes,” You answered, and when he smiled wider, you said, “It’s only gonna happen one time and just for a couple of hours, and if I break my leg or arm or anything else during this, I will sue you, Harrington.” 

You had two left feet when it came to any sort of sport— in a way, it was funny how clumsy you’d get whenever you had to play anything— and Steve knew that, but for perhaps the entirety of your friendship he still always tried to convince you to play basketball with him, and you always said no because why would you ever do something that you knew would only lead to embarrassment? Even if it was just with your best friend. He’d seen more than enough of your accidental embarrassing moments, and in your mind there was no need for him to also see one that could easily be avoided. 

But, you knew that finally doing this would make him happy, and that made your imminent embarrassment feel somewhat worth it.

“You’re not gonna break anything, but if you do, I’ll completely understand if you decide to sue me,” Steve said and you could hear the joking undertones in his voice. “So, when can we play?”

“You can choose the day, but please wait until we’re not sick and when it’s not freezing cold outside.” 

He nodded at that. “Okay, deal.”

“What did you get Harold?” You asked as you picked up the present next to the tree that Steve had wrapped.

“A new wheel,” He answered and that made you laugh.

“I also got him a new wheel.”

It actually wasn’t entirely surprising that you and Steve had the same gift idea. You two loved Harold with your entire hearts, but at least twice a week he’d wake one or both of you up at three in the morning by running on the current wheel he had, which was the squeakiest thing in the world.

Steve looked over at where Harold’s cage sat on the coffee table in the living room area. “Maybe he’ll like having two.” 

“Yeah,” You nodded. “Maybe he’ll designate one for daytime running and the other for nighttime running.”

Steve smiled at your joking statement. “Exactly.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

[timkontheunsure]

A CBT look at Blitz's core beliefs

Boring explanationy bit

Ok first off a core belief is this how the world works sort of thought. It has a ton of evidence on it side, or some big life altering event. Acting within is designed to kept you safe. And everyone has good and bad ones.

Think of it as of a short bit of base code running in the background, helping you go with your gut. A quick a short cut, but one that's got a lot of logic and past facts behind it.

They're mostly set up in childhood. So if you have an abusive parent, or trauma, you can get ones that become unhelpful for you in other situations. Like with people that really care about you.

A distortion is a little different. They affect how you look at the wold based off your mood, and are always negative. They specifically don't have a lot of evidence on their side. Like a prism that makes things a little different than what's really there.

They are an action to do based on your mood: catastrophizing (when everybody I love leaves me next year)

Black & white thinking (yes there's all this evidence showing Stolas cares, but that doesn't count as it just sex).

Thought spiraling (this one goes to Moxxie heh)

Or snap judgments based only only how your mood is (Ghostfuckers is fun and sexy, so we should take the case when I know they don't exist).

Blitz's core beliefs

So 'all royals are assholes' and 'no royal will care about an imp' are a core beliefs. Because this is definitely true, the 1% don't give a fig. (Stolas and Ozzie are basically round errors from what we've seen).

"I'm going to die alone" is also one.

So is "I make everyone's lives worse"

But his good ones are: "we don't get rid of family",

Ok with these two good ones we're going to have to go into rules for life. Blitz core belief is about family sticks together and protects each other. That's his code that always wants to run.

But he's also got evidence that family will kick you out for not being good enough, and hurting/killing people on accident. When you get code clashing you get cognitive dissidence, which physically hurts.

So you do a patch to reduce that pain. A rule to live by. 'If X is right and Y is right, then the variable that off is me.'

'We don't get rid of family, but we do get rid of me = I'm the only one who we can get rid of'.

With Loona it's we get orphanage lady saying words that could have come straight out of Cash's mouth. (I want Blitz to get a song telling that git off so hard).

Those hit Blitz hard, so hard he changed his mind on adopting a small little child, to a older teenage. CBT says that when something hits that hard it's because it hit at least 1 core belief. He sees himself in Loona in that moment, and never want another kid to be gotten rid of.

And other one could be bad or good depending on what's around it. 'I will be of use to family/people I love'. Blitz needs to feel useful to the people he loves, especially with growing in a family business working from being a kid.

And the rule Blitz has made for himself between the "I'm going to die alone" + 'I will be of use to family' = 'But maybe if I'm useful they won't abandoned of me yet'

(Also how sad it is that Blitz feels he's only allowed help, and support if it's a tit for tat, favours for favours exchange).

So everyone has a mixed bag of these good and bad. The problem happened when trauma responses give you ones that don't help you in a new situation. Like say a demon prince falling head over heels for him.

The idea of CBT is that if your struggling to look at what's changed since the core beliefs were set up. And if it isn't keeping you safe anymore, then you try to replace the old one with a new one; that has new evidence that backs it up. A update.

Like how Millie shows Blitz concrete examples of him improving her life. Just telling him he hasn't wrecked her life wouldn't work.

(This is one of reasons why Stolas' confection doesn't stick with Blitz. Blitz needs to know reasons why someone like Stolas loves him. It why he asks him in apology tour. Stolas tell your boy why he's so amazing for flips' sake).

Millie shows how joining IMP positively improved her live. "He gave me so much...A career, a husband, a future. And now...He's my best friend."

And Blitz helping Millie through alot of her own negative self talk she had. That 'she's not good enough', 'she's only the muscle', 'that Pride's too fancy for imps', and 'no imp works for them selves'.

These we're all Millie's core beliefs before joining IMP, if she still had these Rolando's words would have hurt her. But through having the support and example of Blitz she's removed those old bits of code.

When see her mum it obvious where and why she has these ideas about herself. Lynn describes her full time job, being employed direct by a company; as "Freelance". Because Imps can't work for themselves. (Even if she is impressed by Blitz). It's like different between working for Uber, instead of taxi firm. No protections, and an unsafe unstable job.

She pulls up her daughter's valid explanation why she lost the fight as "Excuses!", because Millie was "'raised better than that' as the muscle of the team.

She's very against Moxxie for being too week, and not having the same melee skills as Millie.

It obvious that she wants her daughter to have a similar life as her, where she keeps her head down, and has a partner that is able to defend Millie. This because there's a level of safety in this crab bucket attitude. She'd very unlikely to come to the notice of higher-ups. Like how Stolas being very involved in IMP and with Blitz.

But Blitz talked Millie round, and also showed her that she doesn't have to pigeon hole herself like that. She has years of evidence that Blitz could do it, and him pointing out how good she is when she fell back into thinking of herself as just the muscle.

Rolando's trying to exploit vulnerability that she's updated against. (It's super ineffective).

Ok after that sight side tangent of with Millie's head, back to Blitz's.

The "your going to die alone" has become a self-fulfilling prophecy, tripping Blitz up alot. Because it comes twofold for his fear of hurting his loved ones, making their life worse, and his fear of abandonment. Because he was abandoned, that did happen.

Making him feel like he has it to push away the people he love for there own, and that they'll leave him eventually so might as well push them away now. He's got a lot of previous evidence tied to this.

It's going to take more then Fizz and Millie telling him he didn't ruin theirs, for him to start to be able to unpick this. Because he's still certain it's true. Even if he's improved the lives of most of the people he knows.

And even Fizz who were directly effected by the mistake Blitz still punishing himself for, has told him that being made disabled didn't ruin his life.

There's a whole debate in my head whether Barbie would have had such trouble with addiction; if she wasn't assuming/told that her brother started the fire on purpose, that killed their mum. I'm honestly not sure. But it does seem like her resentment over it has made it harder on her. And that all seems to stem from Cash abuse. (I'm sure Cash is the one to tell Blitz that Fizz said he'd die alone).

Ok on to how the these are interacting/fucking up his relationship to Stolas. Blitz is definitely is afraid to love Stolas for a number of reasons. (You knew I'd get there at somepoint right 😛).

Cus a whole load are clashes together for him, making it really difficult for him because about see things from the outside. with the "royal demons don't give a shit about guys like us" one.

Making Blitz rationalize that it's gotta be about the sex, and being of use. Anything that shows this assumption is wrong has to be disregarded with distortion.

But when Stolas takes sex off the table, and still talking about feeling, and relationships; it makes Blitz's fear of abandonment go turbo. It's not rational but it's the only rule Blitz has that might make Stolas keep him.

He feels like that sex is all he has to give to a prince after all. And he wanted Stolas to stay for a long while now. It's not a grimoire his hallucinations put on a golden pedestal after all. And there a a lot of similarity to how Stolas and his Mumma vanish.

(Debøra pør favør pointed out this emotion damage so now you have to suffer too 😭https://x.com/_Choco_torta/status/1859028103772955135)

"I'm going to die alone" and 'I must be of use' Blitz freaks out badly in queen Bee after Ozzie's. Blitz believed that he's be rejected by Stolas, he's been shoved back into the box of it just being about lust.

Because he wants more, but feels he's unworthy, it's got him hurt coming and going. He's got to shut down any attempt by Stolas to have something real. But he was also hurt constantly feeling sex is all that he's got to offer, and all Stolas would want.

"I make everyone's lives worse" and "We don't get get rid of family". Ok this is into theory level but think Master Mind and Sinsmas are going hit these last two harddddd. (We're one week from mastermind).

It looks likely that Stolas is going to lose Via, face punishment for the illegal deal, and be dragged for the affair. With Via swallowing a lot gaslighting about not being loved by Stolas (lines from the trailer).

Blitz will probably going assume it's another another life he's made worse, where he's caused them to lose their own family. Don't think this will play well with last guy he fell in love with he blow up.

It's going to make it much harder for him to remove the idea; that that him loving some will only hurt them.

Alot of the reasons Blitz thought it was ok to get close to Stolas are tied up in these beliefs. He assumes Stolas was powerful and immortal, so couldn't be hurt physically like Fizz or Mumma.

He assumed that a prince would never fall for an imp, so only he could get hurt emotionally. It couldn't end the same way as Verosika. Blitz thinking he's the only one to be able to be hurt, and get to be useful not just to Stolas, but provide a better life for his whole family. It would seem like a bargain. (And the self punishment aspect probably wasn't going be a turn off for him, cus Blitz thinks he deserves it).

This season seems slow be eroding that pedestal Blitz put Stolas on (and vice versa). It's hurts, and it's knocking the stuffing out of both of them; but it's bring Stolas to earth for Blitz. Making his more of a real person in his eyes.

Eh probably a lot way to go, but I'm here for it.

(was very loosely based on this post, because it got me thinking about distortions vs core beliefs. But then I went off on a whole thing, so thought it would be weird to put it as a reblog. Still loved @akirathedramaqueen analysis and would recommend giving it a read 😀)

[granddaughterogg]

So, you're the newest addition to Task Force 141 and you Make a Move on one of the boys. How will they react?

Johnny Soap MacTavish: With utter glee. "Took ya long enough, lass! Thought you'll never shoot your shot!" He'll announce with amusement. Our perky Scotsman is an absolute Sexpot - and he knows it. He is also a master of Living in the Moment aka Seizing the Day. Rules and regulations be damned. "So what do you say?" He'll ask, filling your personal space with all that muscle and clasping those strong hands around your waist. "Wanna go on a date first…" Johnny wiggles his painterly eyebrows. "...Or shall we skip to the good part?"

Ghost: When you confessed that you'd like to spend some time with him in private, he didn't seem thrilled. As is usual case with Ghost, he didn't seem like caring one way or another. All you got in the way of a reaction was his hand, holding the cigarette and now stilled halfway to his mouth. He threw you one of his Stares - Simon Riley's eyes are as beautiful as they are cryptic, you've never been able to read those dark peepers surrounded by white, seemingly frosted eyelashes of dizzying length. Then he muttered something under his breath and walked away. You didn't hear a word from him for the next three days, apart from work orders anyway. Disappointment and embarrassment tormented you in turns. You were silently cursing your big, reckless mouth. On the fourth day he approached you as if nothing had ever happened and said: "Allright". "Allright what, Sir?.." You asked, dumbfounded. "I agree. We should fuck."

Gaz: Oh, this beautiful boy. Out of the whole squad he's probably the one best adapted to Living in a Society. He reacts as any sensible man would: with a charming smile, a proud, joyful gleam in his eye, a trace of a blush almost. "Gosh, Private, really…Me? Well, girl, you got outstanding taste." "Don't I know it," you answer boldly. "Look, babe," he says in a hushed voice, coming closer and putting his hands on your shoulders, "Cap will rip my head off and piss in my neck if he finds out that I'm fooling around with a subordinate...so we're gonna have to be extra careful, 'kay? Can you promise me that?" You nod enthusiastically. This is so exciting!

Captain Price: So you like to live dangerously. There is no safe way that you can Put the Moves on your commander. You know that...right? On the other hand - if you're gonna break the rules, break them hard and break them for good. Tell him that you desire him. That you can't stop thinking about him. Pick a moment when the rest of the guys won't be within a kilometer radius. Say your line and look into those hard, cloudy sky-coloured eyes which have just grown big and round with shock. "Kid," says Price, his voice suddenly a little breathy, which is oh so hot: "Are you out of your goddamn mind?" "Only for you, Sir." Flutter those eyelashes. Come on, lay it on thick. It's been some time since anyone has thrown themselves at the old man. He will sigh the mother of all sighs, then drag one hand across his tired face. "I am you commanding officer." "That you are, Sir." He will come closer, both hands behind his back. Then he'll reach out and gently, oh, so gently touch your cheekbone. "You do realize tha' I could tell you to pack up and send your arse home?" His voice is very meticulously level, but you can feel the volcano bubbling underneath. "I do, Sir. But I just couldn't live a lie. I want you." That boldness will earn you another sigh - this time more ragged. He'll trace his finger over your upper lip, say: "Well fuck me sideways..." like a man who has just experienced a miracle - and then John Price will embrace you in a kiss, shameless, deep and hungry.

This man has been criminally touch starved. Congratulations, you'll have your hands full from now on. Not to mention your…other regions.

[mushysquashythingamajig]

Bucktommy Fluffebruary

DAY 27: AFFECTIONATE BANTERING/TEASING

@bucktommyfluffebruary

The thing about Evan was that he got really jealous. Buck thought that finally having Tommy 'all to himself' would suppress those feelings but, nope. So whenever Tommy had a pick-up basketball game, Evan tried to tag along. Tommy didn't complain though. In fact, he tried showing off for Buck, although his 3 pointers could use a little work.

Chimney, ever the persistent guy, kept trying to convince Buck to join in. Eddie tried too, but stopped after Buck reminded him of his ankle. Nothing was gonna make him play that game ever again.

"Guys, stopped forcing Evan to do something he doesn't like." Tommy's voice rang from the court.

That was so cute of Tommy to defend him in front of his friends.

"Besides, don't you remember last time? We destroyed the kid." Tommy winked at him.

A chorus of agreements rang around him. Maybe there was one thing that could convince him to play to goddamn game.

Raising an eyebrow, he threw his phone in Tommy's duffel which he was 'guarding'.

"Oh really. Well come on then, big boy." He snatched the ball from Eddie's hand, "Destroy me."

The game this time, was neck and neck. While Buck and Eddie were no slouches, and could easily hold their own, Tommy and Chim made a pretty good team too. Tommy was a brick wall, constantly smacking to Buck, stopping him in his tracks.

Well, truth be told, maximum of the game went by trash-talking.

"Gonna pull a muscle if try to move like that again Tommy." Evan screamed as Tommy attempted a lay up.

"Everybody hold on to your ankles." Tommy announced as Evan had the ball.

"Evan, you're supposed to do it like that." Tommy had just swished a 3 pointer and was making fun of Buck's previous air ball. Which, Buck felt, was frankly deserved. That shot was horrible.

It was the final round. Most of the people they were playing with had given up, too tired to continue. Even Eddie and Chim had threw in the towel. Now it was just Evan and Tommy, both crouched with their hands on their knees, both exhausted but both too stubborn to give up.

"Give up, old man?" Evan teased.

"This old man balls better than you ever did."

"Never say that sentence again."

The ball got thrown up and both Buck and Tommy jumped to get it. Evan had the slight advantage and was able to grabbed it just before Tommy. Just his horrible luck when he tripped on absolutely nothing. As he was falling, he braced himself for the impact on his fucking skull, when Tommy grabbed him. Sure the momentum of a fully grown man dragged him down too but the fall was much softer.

Tommy however was on top of Evan now. Straddling him. In the middle of a very public basketball court. Evan's eyes quickly shot around to assess the surrounding and only found Chimney and Eddie. Eddie had buried his face in his hands and Chimney was just shaking his head. So thankfully, the coast was clear.

Who wouldn't kiss their savior of a boyfriend? Who they had spent the entire day mocking? Maybe he should apologize. After the kiss though.