#but he took a marshmallow stick and heated it on the stove and melted the plastic so it can’t come out anymore 💀

[mads-is-tired]

i’ve had my slime story drink bottle for four days (i love it) and the lid just broke 😭😭

my dad, however, managed to fix it by melting the plastic

[elladescent449-artspace]

It started with the Milk: Chapter 3 - Hysteria and Cream

This was worse. This was so much worse.

Maybe it was the echoing boom from a crack of thunder, or maybe it was the cold sweat, either way, Leo woke up with a tight throat and irritated skin. He inhaled sharply with a whine, forcing himself into a seated position as he tapped around blindly for his phone. He felt the cool case under his finger pads and dragged it across the sheets before weakly flipping it over. Leo flinched when the bright screen blinded him, but he blinked out the pain and stared until the numbers on the screen came into view. He groaned. 2:57 am. Leo flipped the phone back over and flung it across the sheets, he didn’t care when he heard it hit the floor. That’s what the case is for. He plopped back onto his shell and took a deep breath. Then he took another. And another. The rain was back in full force this evening. It was a lot louder than it had been the previous night, and although it helped calm his brain down, it did nothing for his body. Pinpricks erupted on his skin, it was too hot and too cold all at the same time. He turned over, but nothing felt right as he tossed and turned on his mattress. He threw the blanket off of himself and he heard it float to the floor. The naked air felt better against his skin and shell, but it wasn’t enough.

After what happened in the game room, Leo spent the rest of the afternoon skateboarding. Mikey and Raph had attached themselves to their father asking about old recipes and making plans, and while he had seen Donnie walk into his lab, he didn’t see him after that. Leo spent the first hour just practicing on the vert-ramp, but once he got tired of that he took to traveling the sewers. The rain had subsided for mid-day, but the damage to the city’s water system had already been done. Leo had nowhere in particular that he wanted to go, so he had skated all the way to Queen’s checking out the flood rooms. The rainfall, along with the city's usual expected water usage, had caused a major amount of flooding, some routes had been completely blocked off by rivers of sewage. The flood rooms were almost filled to capacity, but seemed to be holding fine. Leo had expected for there to be a worse smell, but thanks to the rainfall the smell wasn’t as bad as usual. 

Leo was grateful for the alone time, besides giving him the assurance that his home wasn’t about to be twenty feet under raw sewage, it gave him an opportunity to think. The little voice in his head was giving him less and less reasons to believe that exhaustion was the only reason that Donnie was acting… off. Sure, he was up late, but 120 points. 120 points? He never, ever, dropped below 75% of the score possibility. Leo remembered Donnie remarking about his average score, ‘my room for error will never exceed past 25% in order for me to achieve a consistent rate of success,’ whatever that meant. Leo was able to paraphrase that into, ‘I know that my score won’t be perfect, but I’m not a noob to dance.’ Then there was the water bottle, none of the boys were exactly fans of backwash, but Donnie was especially that last person that Leo would expect to just want some of your water. As Leo rolled through the city’s massive pipes, he couldn’t stop going over the whole scene. Donnie’s eager mannerism to dance wan’t off character, but the way his eyes flickered to the water bottle before they even started dancing. Then there was the super low score and the lack of exhaustion after playing DDR’s most difficult song, it’s like he wasn’t even trying in the first place. Then there was that last moment, not just asking for the water, but the way he looked when Leo wouldn’t take it back. The stare was blank, it was hollow, like no-one was home. Leo had returned home right before dinner, where he, Mikey, Raph, and Dad ate the rest of the Chinese leftovers. Donnie had made his appearance just as they had finished, but Leo didn’t stick around.

He sighed into his hands, the pressure against his eyes had helped, but not as much as he had hoped. Leo slowly dragged himself out of bed, growling in irritation when he nearly tripped over his fallen blanket.

He knew he might be a little peeved, but he chose Dad’s barley tea this time around. After flicking on the burner and pulling the kettle forward, he zoned out while the water boiled. Leo grasped the teabag loosely as he stared at the blue flames. They waved gently in the dark kitchen, illuminating not only the kettle, but it also created a ghost of the stove. With a sigh, Leo folded his arms and closed his eyes. Warmth radiated from the stove and he just stopped thinking. The blackness and the warmth was enough for him to psychologically melt, so he let it happen. He didn’t feel sleepy anymore, he felt tired. Last night was a joke in comparison to this. His weight pulled his skeleton down to the floor and every breath that Leo took was a full body effort that made him even more exhausted with every intake. He wanted to crawl on top of the table, or maybe slip himself into the oven and rest but he knew that that wouldn’t be any better than his own bed.

The whistling of the kettle brought him back. After switching the heat to low he realized that he didn’t have a mug. Chewing toasted barley kernels and drinking boiling water straight from ‘Old Skully’ didn’t sound fun, so Leo left the bag on the counter to quietly rifle through the cabinets. It was Donnie’s turn to do the dishes tonight, so of course there weren't any clean mugs left. With a grumble, Leo quietly picked a random mug from the dishwasher and turned the sink on to its lowest setting, scrubbing quietly at the inside and rim. ‘At least that hasn’t changed,’ Leo involuntarily laughed at the thought. He was right, Donnie never did the dishes when asked unless it was some new attempt at tech. He cut the laugh short though, he didn’t want to think about Donnie right now.

After a quick rinse he walked the dripping mug back to the stove and dropped the bag in. He poured the (thankfully) still boiling water into the cup and walked to the kitchen table.

Leo sat down with a sigh. The steam from his mug glided over his face and he stared at the small blue flames on the stove. If it wasn’t for the aching exhaustion, Leo might have mistaken this moment for a dream. He stared a bit longer until the chill of the evening brought him back to center. Leo picked his tea up and brought it to his face. The tea was a bit more bitter than he would’ve liked, but the toasted, nutty flavor more than made up for it. Instead of his usual sipping, he swallowed gently, he didn’t want to disturb the moment with noise.

There were gaps that lasted minutes between each swallow. He would drink, stare at the stove, and repeat. Leo didn’t want to think about anything right now, his brain was bouncing between a heavy fog and the start of a headache. When he ran out of tea he would walk back to the stove and do a refill, he used the same bag again the first time, but the tea wasn't’ as god when he reused the bag so he began changing it every time after that.. Yeah. Dad was going to be irritated.

As good as the tea was, and as great as the warmth in his stomach felt, it didn’t relax him. He still felt sore, he still felt tired, and he still felt irritated. He lost track of how much tea he drank. When his hand felt the empty bottom of the mugicha box, he felt a pang of regret that was quickly stifled by his need for more tea. He had to refill the kettle, but after a quick boil he started back on the sleepytime. 

A distant snap pulled him out of his tea frenzy. He froze. When the snap was followed by a clatter he sat his mug down. He flicked off the stove before sneaking into the common room. Leo hesitated when he saw Donnie’s lab illuminated, but when another noise sounded, he knew that it came from deeper in their home.

He stuck to the shadows as he entered the garage. The turtle tank’s lights were on and he could see the bottom hatch ajar, a shadow danced as something was moving on the inside. He didn’t have his sword. With a quick scan he could see an open toolbox by the back tire of the tank. He snuck over quietly, hesitating when another clang (although quieter than the first) struck the floor from the inside, when he heard nothing else Leo took the largest wrench.

He slid beneath the tank and jumped through the hatch, recovering into a standing position and falling into a fight stance. 

Despite his vision being blurred from exhaustion, it wasn’t hard to tell who it was. “Mikey?”

Mikey flinched and turned with the most guilty look on his face. In one hand he grasped a glue stick, and in the other he held the handle of the soft-serve ice cream machine. “Don’t tell Donnie.”

Leo broke out of his fight stance with only a slight stumble and rubbed his temples with a sigh. After a heavy pause, “Mikey, I thought you were a burglar or something…” Leo threw the wrench down with a heavy clang. “What are you doing at-” he looked over his shoulder at the clock in the dashboard and groaned, “4:30 in the morning?”

“I- I wanted some ice cream,” he hesitantly stated with a stutter before breaking into a full ramble. “I woke up a few minutes ago and after talking all day and eating dinner I forgot to have dessert so I woke up and I just really wanted something sweet and I know that donnie just added marshmallow and creamsicle flavor so I thought I’d just come in here real quick and grab some but then the handle wouldn’t go down and I thought “ok I guess i’ll pull a little harder” and then it just SNAPPED in my hands! I got the glue, and it’s my favorite glue stick because it’s worked on everything so far, even dad’s favorite mug,  but now the handle won’t stick and I-” As much as Leo loved Mikey, he had to start tuning his voice out or Leo was going to have to start running. Leo stepped over to the machine and looked over to where the metal had snapped.

He cut Mikey off with a snicker. “You forgot to remove the lock before you pulled the lever, dum-dum.” He took the glue stick from Mikey’s hand and capped it, Leo knew that a measly kiddie glue stick wasn’t going to do anything. 

“Don’t tell Donnie.” Mikey dropped back down to a whisper, “please don’t tell Donnie you know how he gets about his tech!” Leo took the lever out of Mikey’s hand and lined it up with the break, if they lined it up just right and added a bit of silver paint, they might be able to hide the break from Donnie for a while. “Stop laughing Leo!”

Leo tightened his lips trying to stifle his giggles, “why did you keep pulling on it?”

Mikey hugged himself subconsciously and rocked on his heels, “I thought it would work!”

“So you thought pulling harder on a thing that doesn’t want to go down would work?”

“It works for Raph!” Mikey’s voice rose again in a shout.

Leo folded his arms with a scoff, “Raph pulling harder is the reason we don’t have a microwave anymore.”

Mikey put his face in his hands and groaned, “Donnie’s going to be so mad!” He began pacing in a tight circle.

“Mikey,” Leo reached for his younger brothers shoulder and pulled him into a loose side-hug, “chillax bro, a little glue, a little time, and a silver sharpie will fix this thing right up.”

“The glue didn’t work,” Mikey whined, dragging his hands down his face and pulling at his eyelids.

“Better glue, Micheal,” He waved the glue stick in front of Mikey before chucking it behind them both. Leo hugged him a little tighter and smiled a little wider, “not your grade school craft glue.”

Mikey whined nervously and looked between Leo and the broken lever that he held in his hands, “you really think we can hide it from Donnie?”

Leo covered his mouth for a quick yawn. “Of course, Mikey,” he said softly, “now let’s find some glue.”

With a few minutes and a quick trip into Raph’s craft box, they had collected a small array of different sticky materials. Mikey set them messily on the counter next to the soft-serve machine.

They tried the white craft glue first, but that just dripped down the sides and wouldn't hold when they let go. The fabric glue was a little more discreet, as it was completely clear, but even after holding it for twenty minutes, the handle fell to the floor with a bang. Next was the glue gun. 

Despite Donnie’s absolute genius he had neglected to put any normal outlets on the turtle tank, so Leo had to skulk back into the dim garage,and quietly dig for a power cord. Leo crawled back through the bottom hatch carrying a daisy chain of six power cords that he had to assemble together. Mikey got the glue-gun ready. 

“Let’s see if this one will work,” Leo smiled, trying to stay positive as he handed Mikey the cord. “One of these has gotta work,” Mikey plugged the gun in and tapped his foot impatiently as it heated on the counter, “Donnie was so proud of this.”

Leo chuckled as he leaned against the counter, “don’t worry,” he yawned as he spoke teasingly, “worse case scenario, I’ll just grab the duct tape and blame it on Raph.”

Mikey pouted but said nothing as he sat down with a thump. It was quiet again.

“Speaking of Donnie…” should he even be talking to Mikey about this? 

Mikey groaned at the name. He leaned his head against the wall of the turtle tank, “the ice cream maker was his sixth favorite part of the tank, he’s gonna kill me~” he moaned.

“Every part of the tank is Donnie’s favorite part.” Leo chuckled, but the gravity of his question kept it from being sincere. “Have you noticed anything…” Leo rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously, hesitating to finish his question, “off about him lately?”

“Off how?” Mikey scoffed.

“It’s not serious, it’s just… earlier today we played DDR… and he lost.”

Mikey giggled. “He usually loses Leo, we’ve got too much razzmatazz for ‘em.”

“Well of course he lost to me considering that i’m an amazing dancer,” Leo grinned, but he couldn’t keep it as he continued, “but his score was only 120.”

“That’s pretty low, for Donnie”

“I know!”

Mikey hummed with a smile. “Why are you worried about it? Number 3.”

Leo ignored the tease. “Well, it’s not just that,” he remembered the water bottle, “he drank after me.”

“Ew.”

“Yeah, and at breakfast did you see him drink his coffee?”

“Uh,” Mikey scoffed and leaned his face on his hand as he looked up at Leo, “he has coffee like, every minute of the day?”

“He put milk in it!” Leo rubbed his eyes trying to wipe out some of the drowsiness that was clouding his vision.

“So?”

“This is Donnie! He doesn’t put milk in his coffee!” Leo’s voice rose unintentionally.

“He drinks pumpkin spice Latte’s sometimes.”

“It’s April!” Leo guffawed as he brought his hands up to accentuate his point. Donnie didn't like that they knew about his love affair with fall flavors, but that was the only time he changed his preference. Leo continued to carp, “Donnie’s taken his caffeine black since we were 10, and what. He just starts putting milk in it overnight?”

Mikey speaks softly but firmly, putting his hands up in a defensive position to try and calm Leo down, “calm down Leo, is it really such a big deal that he has a little dairy to go with his beans?”

Leo stopped and snapped his head at Mikey, who flinched at the sudden attention, “so you haven’t noticed anything?”

“I mean…” Mikey hesitated with wide eyes, “Leon… are you ok?”

“I’m fine, just…” Leo repeated quieter, “you haven’t noticed anything?”

There was a pause between them, Mikey sat contemplatively as Leo sighed in frustration, he shouldn’t have said anything.

“I’m sorry Mikey,” Leo stood up straight and took a few uneasy paces before coming back to the counter. He rubbed his face with his hands, the lack of sleep was making him crazy. “I think i’m just tired.”

“It’s okay…” Mikey chuckled. His brows furrowed before he slowly turned his head to look towards Leo. “Donnie just…” He dropped his voice to a nervous mumble, “I mean, there was this one thing but it’s not like the thing he did was anything serious.” 

Leo’s eyes widened and he looked to see the nervous expression on Mikey’s face, “what?” 

Mikey nervously rubbed at the back of his neck.

“Was it the coffee?” Leo asks.

“No, it wasn’t the coffee,” Mikey laughed awkwardly, folding into himself a little more. “It was yesterday.”

“But you were with Dad and Raph all day, right?” Leo contemplated, he had been in the sewers by himself for the majority of that day, what did he miss?

“No, that was today.” Mikey stated, looking confused.

“So you mean the day after yesterday,”

“Whatever, just…” He looked uncomfortable as he started to pick at the flooring.

“What is it?”

“I don’t…” Mikey tapped his fingers against the floor of the turtle tank, avoiding eye contact briefly as he tried to consider his answer. “It really was just this one thing?” He chuckled quietly. “It’s so dumb too, but I haven’t stopped thinking about it.”

“What do you mean?” Leo went down to the floor and scooted close to Mikey.

Mikey hesitated to answer, “he turned off Shelldon.” 

“What?”

“Raph had broken the game cube, so I went to ask Donnie to fix it before dinner. I went in his lab but he wasn’t there, and that’s when I saw Shelly lying in his charging station. I tried talking to him, but he was off. No lights, no eye movement, just… off”

“Like… charging?” Leo asked.

“No.” Mikey answered quickly, still avoiding eye contact as he spoke. “Like off. Off, off.”

“Shelldon can’t turn off,” Donnie had installed multiple processors into Shelldon in order for him to be able to be alert at all times, a ‘security measure’ as he had put it, “He’s got a sleep mode-”

Mikey looked at Leo suddenly, and there was a bead of panic depicted on his face, “he was open and his battery was sitting on the table.”

Leo’s throat tightened. Donnie would never do that. “Woah… that’s…”

“When Donnie came in I asked him about it,” Mikey rubbed the back of his neck again and his voice got even quieter as he continued, “he said he just needed to change the battery in order to… something about his coolant?” His explaining tone of voice didn’t really convey that he believed that. “I didn’t really get it, but he said he’d fix the game cube so I left,” Mikey looked away from Leo and stood. He picked up the glue gun.

Leo was stunned. He turned off Shelldon. Shelldon! Shelldon was the one family member that Donnie could tolerate for more than ten minutes and he just… gutted him on the table? He didn’t remember seeing Shelldon the previous night when he had bothered Donatello, but then again, the lab was pretty messy, he could have missed him among the broken car and vending machine.

“It was just that one thing though,” Mikey cut into his thoughts. Leo stood as Mikey began squeezing the clear sealant on the handles break. Leo picked up the handle that laid on the counter and pushed it against the fracture. “We shouldn’t be talking about him like this.”

“Wha-” Leo was shocked, “you can’t just give me that information and not make me worried about it Mikey,” Leo wiggled the handle until it fit cleanly against the jagged piece, “he turned off Shelldon? His most recent pride and joy turtle robot son?”

“He made Shelldon,” Mikey put the glue gun down and sighed, “he knows more about him than us and updates him like… every week.”

“I think somethings up with him,” Leo whispered, Leo’s fist clenched tighter against the metal handle and his fist paled.

Mikey unplugged the glue gun and his tone turned into a mix of concern and reason, “Shelldon needs a coolant change three times a day,” he set the gun down to let it cool , with a sigh he continued, “is it really so unbelievable to you that Donnie would want to fix that?”

“Something is wrong Mikey,” Leo’s whisper rose and he took a step closer to Mikey. 

Mikey looked nervous as Leo approached. “Stop it Leo,” he warned.

“He’s been acting so weird, with the coffee, dancing, backwash, staring at me!” Leo’s voice was rising. “Are you seriously telling me that he turned off Shelldon and you’re not even a little concerned?” Leo grasped at Mikey’s arm loosely. 

Mikey looked at the hand and then back to Leo, squinting as he studied Leo carefully. After a pause, “Leo, why were you up this late anyway?”

Leo was taken aback by the question. He scoffed and shook his head as he stuttered his response. “We’re not talking about me, here, we’re talking about Donnie.”

“Yeah, but…” Mikey was starting to see the heavy bags under his eyes, “how long have you been awake?”

“Mikey, please, are you concerned or not?”

Mikey’s voice was soft and patient, but it couldn’t blanket the anxiety that was underneath “Is it the Insomnia?”

“Mikey, I am actually getting scared,” there was a shake in Leo’s voice. “He’s been acting like a stranger.”

“How much have you slept?” Mikey continued, “you’re not acting like yourself-”

Leo rose into a frantic shout, “he’s not acting like Donnie!” Mikey stumbled at the rise in his voice, shaken by the sudden hostility he stared at Leo with quivering eyes. 

“I-”

“What are you guys doing?” They both jumped at the sudden voice. Leo looked towards the floor hatch where Donnie was. He was only halfway through, leaning his head in one hand as he watched inquisitively.

“Uh,” Leo started, “we were just-” The handle fell to the floor with a bang. Mikey and Leo looked at the handle and then each other. If they could sweat, Mikey would be sweating bullets. He was painfully nervous, and so was Leo. How much did Donnie hear?

Leo swallowed the knot in his throat, “hey Donnie,” Donnie’s eyes flickered to Leo and took mark of him from top to bottom. Leo swallowed again. “Whatcha doin-”

“I broke the ice cream maker!” The answer burst out of Mikey and he was suddenly ranting again. “I woke up and after talking all day and eating dinner I forgot to have dessert so I woke up and I just really wanted something sweet and I know that you had just added marshmallow and creamsicle flavor so I thought I’d just come in here real quick and grab some but then the handle wouldn’t go down and I thought “ok I guess i’ll pull a little harder” and then it just SNAPPED in my hands! I got my glue stick, and it was my favorite glue stick because it’s worked on everything so far, even dad’s favorite mug,  but then it wouldn’t stick so I-” Leo tuned Mikey out and studied Donnie from the corner of his eye.

Donnie gazed nonchalantly at the handle before he considered the two of them. His eyes shifted between Mikey and Leo, and for a moment he just sat in the floor hatch, listening to Mikey quietly. He looked at Leo again, and as Donnie’s eyes narrowed a weight resettled in Leo's stomach, almost dragging him down to the floor. Donnie smiled, and Leo shivered. Donnie stood up from the floor hatch and placed himself between Leo and Mikey, shell to Leo.

“-and then we tried the hot glue and it was working for a second and then BAM, it fell to the floor and I am so so, So! Sorry Donnie I know how important it was to you and I shouldn’t have even-” Mikey stopped when Donnie pulled him in for a hug.

“It’s okay Micheal,” he spoke softly as he embraced Mikey carefully. “Accidents happen.” 

“Re- really?” Mikey spoke hesitantly, carefully bringing his arms up to hold Donnie back, as carefully as someone would approach an animal that might run away. Donnie never initiated hugs. “You’re not mad?”

“Of course not!” Donnie laughed, “it’s just an ice cream maker, no biggie!”

“But still, I shouldn't have-”

“You know what,” Donnie cut him off. “Why don’t we both have some ice cream together?”

Leo found his voice.“What?”

Donnie looked over his shoulder at Leo with a wide grin before looking back to Mikey “I just finished making a brand new ice cream maker in my lab!”

“Like… right now?” Leo was confused.

“No you dum-dum,” Donnie laughed heartily, “earlier today, right after dinner.”

“You mean yesterday?” Mikey chirped.

“Whatever,” Donnie expressively waved his hand, “do you want some ice cream or not?”

Mickey laughed hesitantly at the offer, squeezing Donnie tightly before letting go with a nervous laugh. “I mean-”

Purple continued, “We could have mango flavor, sprinkles and chocolate, coffee and cream, or even that new one you wanted to try, creamsicle and marshmallow!” He threw an arm over Mikey’s shoulders. “For breakfast!”

“Sure…” In disbelief, Mikey slowly returned to his ecstatic senses, quickly perking up with excitement as Donnie began to lead him towards the door of the tank. “Sure! Yeah, yeah!”

“Great!” Donnie smiled eagerly and Mikey started talking about possible ice cream combinations that he was going to try. Mikey was smiling so happily and Donnie listened fondly as he rambled on a more positive note. He held him closely, hugging him tightly by the shoulder as they approached the passenger seat door. Leo stood still, uncertain with what to do or what to say. Donnie looked back, and his grin widened.

Leo grabbed Mikey’s hand instinctively, addressing Donnie before they could go any farther, “wait!”

Donnie hummed.

Leo’s voice was choked as he tried to find a reason for stopping them. “Isn’t it a little early for ice cream?”

“No.” Mikey and Donnie said in unison, and Donnie laughed before Mikey could, the mischief in Donnie’s eyes twinkled, “want to join us?” 

Leo did not. The rock in his stomach had grown into his legs and he didn’t want to leave, he didn’t want Mikey to go either. Something was wrong while at the same time nothing was wrong. He shouldn’t be worried, nothing bad has happened, so why was he so full of dread. “We’ve still gotta fix the machine in here, right, Mikey?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Donnie scoffed, “I’ll fix it later.” He flicked open the door and Mikey was pulled out of Leo’s hands. Mikey looked back with a smile, but it broke when he saw Leo’s face. ‘Don’t let him go,’ the small voice whispered. Too late.

Leo watched from the window as they walked towards the door of the garage. Mikey was back to rambling and Donnie held him closely as they exited. Leo yawned so hard it made him dizzy, he stumbled back to the counter and growled as he rubbed his face. What was wrong? What was wrong with Donnie? What was wrong with him? He stayed there for another few minutes, closing his eyes and breathing as he tried to get a grip on himself.

He turned off every light in the turtle tank and closed the floor hatch before locking up the garage for the night. As he walked back into the common room he could see that the lights were still on in the Lab. Mikey’s loud voice was ecstatic as he talked about ice cream and the plans that he and Raph had made with Dad.

Leo dragged open the curtain to his room and closed it behind him just as he heard Raph shouting for them to be quiet. He picked his blanket up off of the floor and flopped onto the bed, curling into a tight ball under the thick sheet trying to drown the noise of Donnie and Mikey’s stifled giggles.

[lonelyreputation]

Winner Gets A Kiss

A/N:  More fluff!! Whaaat!!?!?!? Yes. More fluff (with a pillow fort) based on this request 🥰 Let me know what you thought of it!! Let me know what you want to read more of!! I’m still in the midst of filling requests, but you’re more than welcome to request more things!!

SENSORY PROMPT: A glow stick being snapped

come chat | MASTERLIST

Warnings: none 

Word Count: 1.6K

You stood a few yards away with your hands on your hips, eyebrows raised, “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“Yes, I can follow directions––Have a little faith––Ah––Stop––UGH!”

The tent Shawn was attempting to put together fell apart.  The beam on the other side––that Shawn swore he had in place––snapped up from the grass and caused the fabric of the tent to slide all the way down the pole.  

The grass beneath your feet felt cool as you walked over to Shawn and patted his shoulder.  A sigh of defeat left Shawn’s lips as the both of you looked at the pile of mess that was the tent in the backyard.  You could feel the disappointment radiating off him.

“So close,” you whispered.

Shawn shrugged, “Looks like it’s gonna storm anyway.”

You tore your eyes away from the tent and up to the sky.  The blue sky started to look more purple as dark clouds dotted the sky in the distance.  A slight breeze kicked up the leaves as you shivered slightly, “We can have a nice movie night.”

“But camping sounded so fun.”

“Well––“ the wind picked up more as the tree branches rustled against each other, “We can make hot chocolate.”

Shawn looked down at you with a smile, “Extra whipped cream?”

You laughed as you felt a few raindrops fall on your cheek, “That can be arranged.”

Without wasting another second, Shawn shrugged your hand off his shoulder and sprinted toward the back door.  You let out a loud hey as he flipped you off, running into the house before the rain really started to pour.  Shocked that Shawn hadn’t even announced he wanted to race you––he usually yelled out  winner gets a kiss––you stood still in the backyard as rain came down on you hard.

“Y/n!”  Shawn’s yell snapped you out of your shocked state, “You’re gonna catch a cold! Get in!”

Your wet hair stuck to your forehead as you dashed through the backyard and into the house.  You wiped your cold, wet, bare feet on the mat just inside your house.  And just as Shawn locked up the door behind you, a clap of thunder sounded from outside.

Shawn gave you a pointed look as you playfully shoved his shoulder as you walked passed him.  You were dripping on the hardwood floor as you walked into the kitchen to grab a towel to get a little dry.

You were drying your face with the towel as Shawn leaned his palms on the granite island top, “Bit wet?”

You shot him a glare as you wringed your hair out in the kitchen sink, “It would’ve been nice if someone announced that they wanted to race instead of leaving me out in a rain storm.”

Shawn raised his arms in defense, “You stood there for a solid minute after I made it inside.”

After drying your hands on the damp towel, you threw it at your boyfriend’s face.  He dodged the towel with a laugh as it landed on the floor, “You suck.”

Shawn picked up the towel from the floor and placed it on the island, “Go take a shower and I’ll have the hot chocolate ready for you when you’re out.”

“Promise?” You raised your eyebrow.

“Promise.”

A hum left your lips as you walked past him to press a kiss to his cheek, “Extra marshmallows with whipped cream, please.”

Shawn’s eyes closed in content when your lips lingered on his cheek, “Anything for you, wet rat.”

You snarled at him as you whacked the back of his head, “Watch your words.”

Shawn replied with a witty comment, but it was muffled as you purposefully walked up the stairs loudly.  You walked into your shared bedroom and grabbed everything you needed for a shower.  

After setting up your phone to play some unreleased songs Shawn had recorded for his next album, you turned on the water and ran your hand under the water to test the heat.  Once the water was at a temperature that was not too hot, yet not too cold, you stepped in and shut your eyes.

You didn’t realize how cold you were until the warm water encased your body.  You let out a sigh of relief as you stood under the water for a solid five minutes just enjoying the hot water and steam from the shower.

Thinking that you spent too much time doing nothing, you actually started to wash yourself up.  You used your standard shampoo, but used Shawn’s body wash.  You normally only used it when you were really missing him when he was away on tour or recording in America, but you just wanted that extra step of comfort.

After a long and well deserved shower, you turned the water off and wrapped yourself in a towel.  You pushed the shower curtain back, the rings making a slight screeching sound on the shower rod, as you looked at the fogged up mirror.  The steam from your shower was trapped in the bathroom since the door was closed and while you savored the heat under the hot water, it was starting to feel suffocating.

You opened the door as you dressed in a pair of sweatpants and one of Shawn’s shirts.  You brushed your tangly hair and spent time blowdrying your hair, not wanting to have to deal with wet hair soaking through your shirt during a movie.  And you wanted to eliminate giving Shawn any content to poke fun at you for getting caught in the rain.

Once you were all ready for your movie night, you skipped down the stairs, “You better have my hot chocolate ready!”

You rounded the stair case and halted when you got into the family room and saw a fort.  The couch was dismantled as the cushions were used to hold up the blanket overhead.  It was small, and looked hastily thrown together, but the sight melted your heart.

“Shawn?”

At the sound of his name, his head poked up from behind the fort and he smiled, “Thought we could have a fun movie night.” Your eyes softened as your shoulders relaxed.  Shawn had a lazy smile spread out on his face, “Hot chocolate is on the stove.”

He got up from under the fort and you followed him blindly into the kitchen.  Shawn got down two Christmas mugs, despite it being the middle of June, and poured the hot chocolate into the cups.  Steam raised from the two cups, but quickly disappeared as Shawn sprayed the whipped cream into one fo the mugs.

“Don’t forget––“

Shawn raised the bag of mini-marshmallows and wiggled his eyebrows, “I could never forget your favorite part.”

Your heart melted all over again as Shawn poured some marshmallows into his hand and popped them in the mug.  He then turned the whipped cream canister upside down and poured extra whipped cream in your mug.

“Have I told you how much I love you?” You looked up dreamily at him.

Shawn let out a chuckle and put the can back on the whipped cream, “Once or twice.”

You picked up your mug and savored the warmth of the cup on your palms.  With eyes closed, you brought the mug up to your lips and even with a small sip, the liquid still burned your tongue.  You pulled back a bit with a scrunched up face.

“Every time,” Shawn laughed as he sipped his hot chocolate, a bit of whipped cream coming off and covering his upper lip, “You burn your tongue every time.”

You shrugged and took another sip, this time more cautious, “I’m impatient.”

“Can’t argue with you there.”

You shot him a glare and chose to ignore his comment, “What movie did you decide on?”

Shawn’s eyes lit up as he picked up his mug and nudged his head over toward the fort for you to follow.  Your sock clad feet padded on the wood floor as you made your way to the family room.  Shawn placed his mug on the floor, you followed his lead, and he crawled under the blanket.  Once you were in with him, backs pressed up against the couch, Shawn pulled his laptop onto his thighs.

He slung an arm over your shoulder and you rested your head on his shoulder as you cradled the mug on your lap.  Shawn logged into his Hulu account and scrolled through all the categories.

“Dirty dancing?”

At the sound of your suggestion, Shawn clicked on the movie and waited for it to load.  With the sound of rain pattering on the windows and the occasional thunder, life under the fort was idealistic.

“Oh wait,” Shawn pressed the space bar on his laptop and set down his mug.  You looked quizzically at him as he pulled up a few glow sticks.

“Where were you hiding these?” You giggled as you plucked a glow stick from his hand and rolled it between your fingers.

Instead of answering your question, he snapped one of the glow stick and a bright green color illuminated his face.  You mirrored his smile as and snapped the glow stick in your hands; a purple color lighting up the inside of the fort.

The two of you spent the next few minutes snapping glow sticks and laying them out on the floor.  When the fort was illuminated with various brightly colored glow sticks, Shawn pulled the laptop back on his thighs and started the movie back up.

“First one to finish their hot chocolate,” Shawn lifted his mug up to his lips, “gets a kiss.”

[bamby0304]

A Very Merry Christmas- Ch.4

Jingle Bells

Series Masterlist

Bamby’s Masterlist

Summary: While Dean is out on a supply run you decide to make some hot chocolate... only to be interrupted by Sam.

Prompt: Hot Chocolate

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings: Fluff. Smut. Fingering. Unprotected sex. Food play. Praise kink.

Bamby

Turns out the cold weather wasn’t going to go anywhere, so according to that meant the bunker needed to be stock full of all the junk food he could find.

You, of course, didn’t see the point in joining him. It was too cold, and you hated shopping with either of the brothers- one was a whiny health nut, the other was over excited and had the appetite of a child. Well… normally you didn’t mind shopping with them, but the weather was getting you down.

In ordered to boost your mood, you decided to focus on your Christmas plans. Which is how you ended up in the kitchen, brewing up some hot chocolate.

“Need some help?” Sam asked as he came bounding into the kitchen.

You glanced at him over your shoulder with a smile. “If you wanna help make hot chocolate, sure. But I doubt you do, so I’m all good.”

“What makes you think I wouldn’t want to help?” He moved over to lean on the bench next to you.

“Umm… because any kinds of sugar that doesn’t come from a fruit makes you run off with your tail between your legs,” you noted before turning to give him a pointed look. “You don’t like sweet things, Sam.”

“You’re sweet.” He shrugged, picking up a mini marshmallow and tossing it into his mouth as he grinned widely at you. “And I like you.”

Your cheeks flushed as you smiled lightly, getting back to making your drink. “Careful, Sam, you might give a girl idea.”

“What kind of ideas?” He stepped closer then, to the point where he was almost touching you.

Not wanting the chocolate to burn on the stove, knowing Sam was going to relentlessly try to distract you, you quickly took it off the heat. He was, thankfully, fast to react and pulled out two mugs. You didn’t question him or comment on the second mug, just simply poured some of the chocolatey drink into each mug.

“So, what have we got?” He turned to the few extras you’d set on the bench.

Marshmallows, whipped cream, cinnamon, roasted coconut, crushed Oreos, and salted caramel. Basically, you’d grabbed anything and everything you could find in the kitchen that felt like it would taste nice with the drink. Now that Sam was looking at the ingredients, you got the feeling his thoughts were turning to something a little more… intimate.

“How about some of this, first?” He grabbed the can of cream and brought it to the tip of his finger before squirting some onto it. You watched with a watering mouth as he lifted the finger to his mouth, and sucked the cream clean off. “Mm, that’s good,” he moaned, closing his eyes.

You knees wobbled as you continued to stare and watch.

Not looking to you, Sam turned to the rest of the ingredients. “We definitely need some of this.” This time he reached for the caramel.

Again, you watched as he drizzled some onto his finger. You didn’t even realise your lips had parted on a wanting breath as he licked the sauce off, closing his eyes once more like it so too good for all his senses. His moan vibrated through to your bones and soaked your panties. Fuck the man was sinful… and he knew it.

Opening his eyes, he glanced at you. “Wanna try some?” You didn’t even get the chance to respond before he was reaching for the cream again. “You should have them in the same order… tastes better that way.”

Stepping towards you, he got so close that you had to crane your neck to look up at him. That meant your lips parted a little more, which seemed to be what he wanted. Lifting the free hand that wasn’t holding the cream, he grabbed your chin with one finger and his thumb, before pulling down to pry your mouth open more.

“Open up. Yeah, just like that.” His darkened eyes stared at your wide mouth as he brought the nozzle of the can to your bottom lip. He rested it there for a second, letting you get prepared before he pressed the button and let the white cream spray into your mouth.

The look in his eyes almost had you fainting on the spot. Watching him watch you as your mouth filled with the cream. It was obvious where his mind was going… yours was headed in the same direction. Even though it had been years since you’d felt the warm weight of his cock on your tongue, you still craved it- especially in that moment.

Letting your chin go, he watched as you swallowed the cream, every last bit of it. “Doesn’t that taste delicious?”

“Mm.” You nodded, licking your lips.

“You have to try the sauce, too.” Discarding the cream, he grabbed the caramel bottle again. When you opened your mouth without being asked, you swear you saw him twitch. “Good girl.”

Bringing the bottle up, he let the tip of it run along your bottom lip, teasing the taste, before he squeezed a little into your mouth. It was sweet, almost too sweet with how concentrated the sauce was, but you didn’t complain. You just stood there with your mouth open as he drizzled a little more into it.

Then he ‘slipped’.

“Oops.” The sauce drizzled out of your mouth and down your chin. “Should clean that up. Don’t want to waste any,” he noted as he leaned down to lick and mouth at the stick sweet trail.

Not realising the bottle was gone, too engrossed by the feel of his mouth, you tilted your head. You moved to give him more access as he moved to your jaw… which meant you’d given him more access to your neck, too.

You jumped at the cool feel of sauce being drizzled onto your neck.

“Oh no,” Sam sighed against you. “My bad.” His lips trailed down slowly. “Let me just…” His lips sealed around the spot and sucked it clean.

As Sam continued his assault on your neck, your knees finally gave out. Luckily he was right there to catch you, save you from falling. His arm wrapped around your back and pulled you flush around him as his lips remained on that same spot. Turning the two of you, he lifted you onto the bench and positioned himself between your legs.

Finally, he pulled away, only to quickly free you from your shirt. When it was pulled away you were left with a bare chest, which just made him groan.

“No bra?”

“Lazy day at home,” you explained, breathless.

He brought his hand up to your breasts and cupped one, before reaching to run the pad of his thumb against your budding nipple. “They look delicious… bet I can make them better, though.” Not giving you the chance to protest, he brought the bottle of caramel sauce to your chest and drizzled it onto you.

Your breath hitched in your throat at the cool feel on your skin. Your head went dizzy with uncontrollable lust as Sam then leaned in to suck your nipple into his mouth.

Leaning back against the tiled wall, you submitted to Sam’s touch as he sucked dark marks onto you chest. You didn’t even think about the fact they would be visible for days, you didn’t care. All that mattered was the pleasure it brought you.

Slowly, he began to trail down your body, lips pressing light kisses down to your navel as his fingers began to work on pulling your pants down. You didn’t fight, you put up absolutely no resistance, as he undressed you.

Standing up again, his lips claimed yours in a bruising kiss. When he cupped you mound you gasped against him, melting even further as your hands then slid up his arms to rest around his shoulders. Sam grinned against your lips, loving how responsive you were, loving how you give into him so easily.

Two fingers stroked your folds slowly, teasingly, gradually building up your desperate need… before they pushed into you.

Your back arched as Sam dragged his fingers in an out of your pussy slowly. It was torture, the way he took his time but made sure to press into all the right places. Gradually, he picked up the pace, taking note of what made you twitch the way he liked.

Reaching up to rub at your clit with his thumb, he worked his fingers in and out of you faster, harder, making sure to pay close attention to your sweet spot. Right as you began to squeeze him, on the edge of cumming, he pulled his hand away and replaced it with his cock. You hadn’t even realised he’d pulled himself free from his pants until you felt the heat of his tip pressing into your pussy.

The first thrust was hard, he pushed in until you were completely full… and then you were tumbling. Screaming, writhing, clutching at the back of his head for dear life, you came undone as his thick, long, hot cock stretched you open and filled you.

Grunting into your shoulder, Sam waited for your climax to begin to fade, before he started moving. The second he started to thrust you were coming again, your senses too overworked and sensitive. He was too much, and it was utter perfection.

Holding on to dear life, you whined and cried as Sam began to fuck you mercilessly on the kitchen counter. Clutching at his hair, tugging as your body spasmed over and over, you buried your face in the crook of his neck. Sam held on to you, arms wrapped around your waist tightly as his hips began to buck. Your pussy was squeezing him, clenching him so much, he was losing control.

With bated breath and a groan, he spilled into you, body twitching and hold on you tightening. You swear you could hear jingling as you fell into another climax. You were so sensitive and surrounded by everything Sam, it was like your ears were ringing with the sound of bells.

Once he was finally finished, Sam pulled his softening cock from your folds with a hiss. Your arms remained wrapped around him, however. You were feeling a little vulnerable and needy after that onslaught of sensations.

“I’ve got you.” He pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

Whimpering, you buried your face into his neck a little more. “Sam…”

“Come on.” Wrapping your legs around him completely, he lifted you from the counter. “Let’s get you to sleep.” As he started to walk, you looked back at the mess on the counter. “Don’t worry, I’ll clean it up. And I’ll bring you your drink.” This time he pressed a kiss to your temple. “But you need to rest.”

Not having the energy to protest, or a point to argue with, you let him walk you to your room. By the time he reached his destination, you were already drifting off. It took no time before you were asleep once your head was resting on your soft pillow.

Bamby

[marsmckie]

IgNoct White Day Gift Exchange

@ignoctgiftexchange

For @blossattic - “I'm liking the white chocolate thing related to this celebration so a few things can go from there: giving out chocolate, playing with it, chocolate kisses (literal or referring to the candy thing), being dressed in a creamy colored scheme or even a cameo! Marshmallows can be a great option too. Soft and fluffy go well with the Love theme for this year. Remember these are only suggestions, I'm truly happy to receive anything that those options may have inspired you. Have fun! Come with new recipehs!”

Warning for tooth rotting fluff ahead! I hope you like it and Happy White Day!

How to temper chocolate - heat most of the chocolate over a pan of boiling water until it reaches 46-48 degrees centigrade, stirring constantly. Take off the heat and add the remaining few bits of chocolate, stir, and allow to rapidly cool to 30 degrees centigrade before putting in the mould.

A cool breeze floated in through the open window, offering a heavenly reprieve to the stifling heat from the pot on the stove and the scent of chocolate that had turned from being dreamy to sickly sweet some hours ago. Temperature was key here- too hot or too cool and the chocolate would not temper properly. Ignis monitored diligently, his eyes never leaving the bowl of milk chocolate set over the pan of boiling water, one hand constantly stirring while the other checked the temperature on the electronic thermometer.

Once the chocolate hit 46 degrees, Ignis removed the bowl from the heat and stirred in the remaining few bits of chocolate, allowing it to cool quickly. Satisfied when the temperature reached 32 degrees, he brought the bowl back over to the island counter and set to work pouring it into the dome shaped moulds.

The whole of the counter was taken up by his previous creations- shiny chocolates of assorted shapes, colour and filling each intended for different people. A miraculously clear day in his schedule had allowed him to go through with his plan for making White Day chocolates and the results were highly satisfying.

When the shell of the dome chocolates had cooled enough, Ignis set another bowl of chocolate to temper in the same way as before while he added the orange creme filling and drizzled some over the remaining chocolate in the bowl artistically over a batch of shiny white heart-shaped chocolates. He wiped his hands on his apron, satisfied with the results.

“Hey! Specs! Are you in?”

Ignis cursed under his breath at the shout from the hallway as the front door opened and closed- he thought that he would have their shared apartment to himself today, believing that it was Noctis’s intention to go to the arcades with Prompto after his meeting with his father.

As it was, his boyfriend had returned early.

“Iggy? You cooking? Something smells divine,” Noctis called again. Ignis cast a frantic eye over the mass of chocolates on the counter and knew there was no way he could keep his endeavours secret.

“I’m in the kitchen, Noct,” Ignis called back. He turned his attention to the chocolate on the stove as Noctis walked in. “You’re back early.”

“Prompto got called into Crownsguard training- woah! Specs, are you opening a sweet shop?” Noctis grinned at the assortment.

“Um, no,” Ignis stumbled, flustered, trying to think of a quick lie and failing. He settled instead on the truth. “I was making preparations for my White Day chocolates.”

Noctis’s eyes bulged. “Damn! You know, most people go with shop-bought stuff.”

“That doesn’t sound anywhere near as fun as making them yourself,” Ignis smiled.

Noctis shrugged in response, and snatched a dark chocolate from the counter, popping it in his mouth before Ignis could stop him. Ignis made to swat at Noct with the tea towel, but Noct’s retribution was more instant than that as Noct bit into the chocolate.

“Argh!” Noct moaned dramatically, sticking his tongue out with half of the dark chocolate still on it. “It burns! Why’s it so hot?”

“Those would be the dark chilli chocolate ones I made for Prompto,” Ignis said with a self-satisfied smirk, pleased that his boyfriend’s thieving ways brought about its own punishment.

Noctis swallowed down the rest of the dark chocolate, grabbed a jug of milk from the counter and downed it, still grumbling. Ignis considered a white chocolate drizzle might help take the edge off the heat- though Prompto could handle his spices far better than Noctis, he didn’t want to cause the same reaction from him.

“The domed dark chocolate ones are filled with a whiskey ganache for Gladio,” Ignis continued to explain, once Noctis had calmed down. “There is milk chocolate domed ones with caramel for Iris, then the two I’m finishing off for His Majesty have half with a peppermint creme filling and the other half with an orange creme filling for Clarus, seeing how he taste tests almost everything the King eats.”

“Dad would trust them if they came from you,” Noct said, staring at the amount of work that Ignis had put in. He pointed to a batch of basic square milk chocolates pushed to one side, their quantity less than the other types of chocolate. “And these ones?”

They were Ignis’s first attempt at tempering and putting the fillings in the chocolate, which he had been slowly picking at himself. “Those are filled with a coffee creme; a test batch.”

Noctis grinned, the implication clear. “Yours then!” He picked one of the square chocolates up into his fingers and nibbled at a corner. “Trust you to put Ebony into chocolate!”

Ignis smiled and continued to stir the bowl even as Noct circled around the island counter to him. Gripping the Ebony creme chocolate between his fore and middle fingers, Noctis offered the chocolate to Ignis who dipped his head down to receive it. His lips wrapped around the tips of Noct’s fingers, lightly kissing them as he took the chocolate into his mouth. His first batch had not tempered perfectly, not quite achieving the shine or the distinctive crack as he bit into it, but his eyes fluttered shut as the taste of the Ebony creme filled his mouth. He moaned softly; he would have to go back and make another lot for himself when he had time now that he had got the art of tempering down.

Opening his eyes slowly, he saw the look of desire on Noct’s face as he admired the look of pure bliss on Ignis’s own face.

“Wow Specs,” Noct breathed. Ignis smiled, returning to stirring and checking the thermometer.

“I’m not quite finished yet,” Ignis said. “I have the bases for the orange and peppermint cremes still to go.”

“You really did think of everyone,” Noctis sighed.

“I hope they have as much joy in receiving them as I got in making them.”

“I don’t doubt it, and now you’re making me feel bad that I got your Valentine’s chocolates from the shop- maybe I should have made them myself.”

“I enjoy doing this, Noct. Besides, I’m sure I would have only been clearing up the mess you made if you were to try tempering chocolate,” Ignis teased with a smirk. Noctis pouted.

Ignis finally turned the stove off and brought the bowl of chocolate over to the island counter to add the final piece of chocolate and let it cool.

“I did love the roses, though,” Ignis said fairly, referring to the dozen red roses Noctis had presented him with.

“Yeah, they came from the Palace Gardens,” Noct admitted. “In a way I did grow them myself!”

“If I had known my flowers would upset your gardeners so much...” Ignis sighed.

“Yeah, yeah,” Noctis said. He wrapped his arms around Ignis’s waist from behind, his hands settling underneath the full length apron while he stood on tiptoes to rest his chin on Ignis’s shoulder, hugging Ignis tight. Ignis relaxed into his touch, arching his neck as Noctis peppered light kisses down the back of his neck. He hummed contently.

“You didn’t say who those ones were for,” Noctis murmured. Ignis glanced down at the counter- the tray of white heart-shaped chocolates with the milk chocolate drizzle. There was more of them than any of the other varieties.

“If I told you they have a mix of strawberry, raspberry and ulwaat berry creme fillings, would you guess?” Ignis grinned, knowing his boyfriend’s sweet tooth only too well. “I had intended for them to be a surprise.”

“Dammit, I’m sorry Iggy!” Noctis pressed his face into the back of Ignis’s shoulder. “I can pretend I didn’t see and I’ll still be surprised!”

Ignis smiled softly, checking the temperature of the melted chocolate again. Still too warm to use. He felt Noctis shift slightly behind him, and with trained reflexes Ignis swatted just as Noct’s fingers reached forward to dip into the bowl, satisfied when his boyfriend cried, “Ow!”

“None of that now, not while I’m still using it,” Ignis chided lightly.

“Come on, just one lick!”

Ignis remained firm, ignoring his boyfriend in favour of stirring. He felt Noctis huff against his neck and he smirked, still ready for if Noct’s fingers darted forward again. He wasn’t ready for when the hand underneath his apron started twitching, tickling at his stomach through his button down shirt.

“Eep! Noct!” Ignis quickly dissolved into giggles and the fingers wriggled their way over his ribs. He dropped the spoon in the bowl, his hands trying to come down to defend himself, but the apron worked to keep Noct’s hand trapped against his ticklish midriff.

In the confusion, Ignis was left defenceless and Noct snatched up one of the white chocolate hearts with his free hand, popping it in his mouth before Ignis could do anything.

“Noct!” Ignis cried, and with an effort he pushed them away from the counter to save the other chocolates from being stolen. In retribution, Noctis kept up his tickle attack on Ignis’s stomach and ribs, his fingers tweaking here and there and causing laughter to bubble forth from Ignis. It really wasn’t fair that Noctis knew his weaknesses like this!

Ignis managed to grab hold of Noct’s wrists and spun himself around in his boyfriend’s grip so that he faced him, but before he could chastise him Noct leaned up and pressed a kiss to his lips. Ignis’s protest died as Noct kissed him, his arms wrapping around Noct’s smaller waist, his boyfriend’s mouth pressing again his and forcing his lips apart so that Noct’s tongue could slip the chocolate he had stolen into Ignis’s mouth.

“Mmph!” Ignis moaned at the surprise. The white chocolate had melted ever so slightly in Noct’s mouth, but as he bit into it there was still the tell-tale crack of perfectly tempered chocolate. The raspberry creme offered a sharp tartness in contrast to the creamy white chocolate.

Noct surged forward into the kiss again, his tongue sparing with Ignis’s as he chased the taste of the berry filling, each locked in the hot kiss.

Ignis gasped as he pulled away, breathing heavily and looking down with hooded eyes as Noct smiled up at him.

“I approve!” Noctis grinned with a wink. “I only wished to share my White Day gift with you!”

“I’m sure there will be plenty to share out once I have boxed the rest up,” Ignis said, pressing a kiss to the tip of Noct’s nose. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I should finish up before the chocolate gets too cool to use.”

“Do you need a hand with that?”

“Can I trust you to help box them up without pinching any more?” Ignis frowned.

“I... wouldn’t count on it!”

Ignis slipped from Noctis’s grip and returned to the counter. “I should only be a short while longer.”

“Alright. I’ll be over here if you need me, Specs,” Noctis said, giving a small wave as he walked over to the sofa. Ignis watched him as he walked away and thought to himself, damn, I am the luckiest man on this star.

Please do not repost my artwork without my permission

[aalt-ctrl-del]

01 _ Straw Spun to Silk

A Gentleman in a Coat

 It wasn’t the sort of day he’d pluck off the calendar as a “go out and do an outdoors”, but the weather suited his mood. The morning didn’t start out like this; fogged and dreary, the nasty clinging moisture that emphasized the smell of muggy marsh from the river cutting through the creak. The sky was dark and overcast, with enough warmth that heavy coats weren’t necessary, but he carried it anyway for just in case.  The week was on the cusp of the weekend, and he didn’t preoccupy himself with his usual crew in his haste to get home and get set up.

 The whole scrabble rush to meet an unspoken deadline came to a rough crawl when he arrived on his home step. There was no impending rush for Chadwick to step through those doors and confront what awaited inside, but dawdling only postponed the inevitable. He had somewhere to be, someplace to go – relocating ten feet was no different than traveling five hundred miles. He didn’t want confrontation, especially when it could be postponed for a few seconds further.

 “I’m home,” Chad announced, as he entered. He invited the depression, the disappointment. He came in, shut the door, and let his parents know who was there.

 Chad went from the entry and to the living area, where the toddler pin was. That was where Abigail spent many of her days as of late, not necessarily forgotten; their parents were preoccupied. Chad set aside his books, and leaned over the rim to give his baby sister a kiss on her head. She chirped and flopped around the teddybear she held – it was an old thing, a hand me down. Chad was initially bitter about giving up his favored companion, but the mood quickly passed when he fell in love with Abby. She needed it, and he really didn’t want the bear.

 “Have a good day? How’s Stiltskin been keeping you?”

 Abby cooed and babbled her baby words; she formed some words, but wasn’t quite to the point of building sentences. She told an adventure about the bear on a journey to the kitchen, but when he got there, there was no one. She proclaimed his name frequently, “Stitsen. Stistsen.” The name of Stiltskin was a shortened version of ‘Rumplestiltskin,’ from the fairytale of the namesake. Sterling was always afraid the little imp would steal him from his mother when he was little, so to insure they never forgot the name he named his best friend after the imp.

 That made sense to Chad. He didn’t want an imp to take him away either. The thought shifted his expression, from the cheery merriment of seeing his sister happy and rosy cheeked and gleeful, to that of the business at hand.

 “I’ll warm you up some lunch. You want some lunch?” Chad gave Abby another kiss on her head, and hurried to the kitchen.

 As expected, the kitchen was empty. For a moment he wondered where his mother went off to, but dismissed his exploring mind. This would work out for him.

 He went around the kitchen flipping on the lights; the windows were open, but the fog outside staved off any meager illumination. He almost expected a storm to hit, or the telltale roar of thunder to encircle the small town.

 Chad turned on the stove, and while he was at it stashed away a spare packet of matches. He left the chair at the stove, while he went through the kitchen for his supplies. The saucepan, half filled with water, and a bottle. He got milk, checked its freshness, before filling the bottle. It would take time for the water to heat up, so Chad hurried up the steps.

 He wasn’t allowed in Sterling’s room, though his older brother didn’t care – they were close like that. His parents made the rule.

 For a minute Chad stood observing the messy bed, the used clothing – exactly as he left it. A swell of bitterness burned in the back of his throat, and his fists tightened beside his thigh. Chad crossed to the closet and pushed the panel aside. His brother made his own camping supplies, in spite of their father and their absolute ‘no fun ever rule’. Chad didn’t understand, and he blamed his father – it wasn’t the same as hate. He could deal with his mother right now, but not their father. Note until Sterling came home, but that would depend wholly on their father – if he could swallow his pride.

 There was a knapsack stuffed to bursting with the essential of supplies – the rope and floor bottom, along with treated canvas cover, and a sleeping sack. It was bulky and heavy, but nothing Chad couldn’t handle. He wasn’t going far. He hauled the knapsack down the steps and to the back door of their home.

 Abigail squealed when Chad passed through the room. “Gimmie a few more minutes,” he called.

 The water in the saucepan was boiling. Chad took the pan off and shut the stove down. He set the bottle aside, to cool, and went through the kitchen once more.  He packed a napkin with bread and cheese, and the traditional chocolate bars, graham crackers, and marshmallows. He finalized packing, with the assurance he shouldn’t come back into the home unless he needed to.

 Still no appearance of his parents. Chad returned to the living room with the bottle, a little despondent. “Got your din.”

 Abigail tottered to the fence of the pin and took the offered bottle. Forgotten on the floor, Siltskin starred at Chad with his black, glass eyes. There wasn’t much else Chad could do inside the home, not while Abigail was taken care of. For the time. With his provisions in hand, he returned to the back door and shoved everything out.

 The backyard didn’t have a fence, some of the other homes had brick walls and metal bars, but the back fence that was meant to separate the yard from the woods eroded some time ago, the brick foundation crumbled into the soil. There wasn’t much detail on why that was, aside from poor planning and the creak.

 Chad navigated the fog; departing the edge of his home and slipped across the yard. The grass was stubby and never had the knack for growing thick or well; his father wasn’t much for gardening. Some trees dotted the yard, and it was between the last two that Chad tossed the knapsack down. He opened the bag up and dragged out the bundle of canvas and rope.  When setting up the rope between the tree branches, he realized he forgot the hammer. But the tool shed had a small dugout shovel, which he needed anyway for the fire pit.

 During the tents assembly, Chad couldn’t be sure, but he thought someone was singing. Or someone was humming. He paused from hammering the spikes in and listened. It was eerily silent, not even the birds felt merry in the gray vapor sloughing off every perceivable structure. But there was no other sound, except perhaps the gurgle of the water a quarter mile away.

 The tent stood sturdy, better than what Chad expected. It was his first go at setting up the camping gear all on his own, but he went on a few other excursions with his brother. Usually, his brother invited him along with his older friends, and they went into the woods to live like Tom Sawyer or some other hero from the books Sterling read.

 A fire pit was next. The soil was gaudy and soft, and Chad debated if it was too moist to light wood. Cut lumber was kept beneath the back porch, but Chad could tell he might not have the easiest chore with getting a flame to catch. The bread and cheese would be perfectly edible as is, though that wouldn’t beat a warm meal. He was craving the smores. There was no point in debating it over and over, not without first trying.

 Chad returned to his home for some plates and the skillet, and ease his mind about his sister.  She was asleep in  the pin, a tiny hand fisted around Stiltskin’s ear.

 Some wood was piled into the fire pit, but a few extra logs went into the tent. In case it rained. Chad wasn’t planning on camping outside the whole night, his mother would lose it. But she nor his father had gotten in yet. It took an aggravating amount of time of lightening matches and coaxing the sad little flame – fire didn’t like the misty saturation of the air – but finally, after nearly an hour, the wood was glowing orange and timid. Chad maintained good faith and patience, and worked coaxing the flame strong and strong, with bits of hair from his own hair – he needed a haircut anyway. And before he knew it, there was fire. And it was warm and strong, and crackling at the edge of his tent.

 It seemed almost a shame to have to go back inside. Chad set the skillet on the flames, and place bread slices down topped with cheese. The scent of toast and bubbling cheese sent his stomach a frolic; he didn’t realize how hungry he was.

 “Sterling!” he called. And then, much louder, “Sterling! I’m having a campout! I made a fire and everything! I’ll make you some ‘smores, IF YOU COME HOME!”

 The toast crunched when bitten into. Chad hissed and wheezed, the cheesy was oozing and hot. But it was so good. Everything always tasted better when you went out into the woods, on a long excursion to camp and be wild. Food was precious. You needed energy to reach the destination, and you needed energy to return home.

 “This is sooo good!” Chad harked, to the wood thicket.

 He imagined his brother sulking on the other side of the creek, fishing with a rod made with a branch switch and a thread from a spool. When he smelled the toasted bread, and the warmth of a friendly fire, he’d realize how ridiculous it was to leave like this and come back. Muddy creak fish couldn’t be better than melted chocolate and toasty crackers.

 Chad burnt the end of a stick over the fire, like his brother showed him. Sterilized the pointed end and burst off the grungy bark bits. He shoved a white lump onto the stick, and began the process of roasting marshmallows.

 “These ‘smores will be the best! I make the best smores!”

 The copse of trees loomed silent and unimpressed. Chad sneered, as he assembled a cracker with a chocolate piece. Two pieces, exactly as his brother liked it. Chad resisted his urge to eat the smore, and instead set it on a plate beside the fire. He made another one, and stacked it on the first. He was on a roll, making sandwich treats gushing with sugary delight.

 “I made you a whole plate of ‘smores!” Chad stood in front of the tent, hands cupped around his mouth. “ALL for YOU!” He stood waiting, watching. And listening.

 The thicket reserved its silent contemplation of the child. If possible, the gaps among the trees and shrubs thickened with shadows. In another hour, it’d be completely dark.

 Chad looked back at his home, standing – the kitchen lit, the upper bedrooms aglow. But not Sterling’s room. It was dark and abandoned.

 Sighing, Chad plopped back in the tent. He tossed in another log, and roasted one last marshmallow. He ran out of graham crackers, so ate it with just the chocolate and the white ooze bursting. He licked his fingers and curled up, eyes glued the gnawing orange glow of the flames. In the dancing heat he saw his brother, smiling. Proud of him. When Chad was with his brother, he felt like one of the guys. Bold and impactful – when Sterling was there, Chad only had to say something and people would listen. He wasn’t just a kid. He mattered. They went out and did things together; Sterling took him to see scary movies, and if it was too scary, they camp in the living room together and build a tent fort. It was almost as exciting as being outdoors, because Chad couldn’t handle the woods when he was scared; the old house was sinister enough.

 With a start, Chad realized he was sleeping. The fire was dying down intot he murk of night, only the intense orange coals lay at the bottom of the pit, grumpy and seething. Chad didn’t want to move, he was tangled in the sleeping sack and not sure how to free himself. His legs were sticking out, and the damp chill soaked into his shins. It was almost like it rained on his legs, and now they were soggy and chilled.

 It wasn’t the clammy sensation latched onto him that woke him. It was the trilling, almost rolling canter of the melody. When Chad came a little more to his senses, the hymn faded out. He lay stone struck, listening. He was lodged within the drowse of wake and slumber, his body weighted by the paralysis. Little by little, his limbs loosened. He tossed another log onto the coals, and watched the swirling stardust ascend to the inky blanket high above, to be smothered out entirely.

 He blinked at the coals that remained suspended in the grove, flittering between there and gone. They were not like the warm particles that had substance and dissolved into dark matter; these lights glittered but remained constant, unhindered by the fog. As he watched on, it became apparent they were not small lights, but lights that bobbed at a distance.

 And they came nearer.

 “When I awoke, the path splint before me inviting and open. From then and thus forward I moved onward - no channel retired back upon. The trails are persistent and interwoven.”.”

 Chad made no sound, none save for his heart thundering in his chest. He saw the creases around those glinting lights, sharp and sculpted. The soloist approached into the dome of the rekindled flames – Chad wished he had not tossed in that log – he saw that there was nothing but a coat, and perched on the collar was a set of grinning teeth. Sharp, chiseled features glowered, shimmering like polished obsidian carved from stone. Atop the toothy skull….

 A hat.

 Chad gawked, aware of how vulnerable he was. He debated lunging upright and tearing for the front porch, but he was tucked into the tent and doubted he could burst free in the method he craved. Perhaps, it was possible it didn’t see him.

 Then it spoke.

 “You must want something very badly.” The jagged snout turned downward; the firelight sparkled along the edges of its cheekbones. “You have made an offer. Is this your tribute?”

 It took time for Chad to collect his bearings, piece together its words and their meaning. In a rush, everything clicked. And Chad blurted out –

 “Y-yeah. You… you can have them.  They’re—” He cut off. It could have them all.

 “They are for someone else?” it rumbled. And cocked its head to the side. “I don’t recommend lying.”

 “They were for my brother.” Chad cringed down into his cocoon of a bed. “Those are for my brother.”

 “Your brother is expected?”

 Chad’s shoulders quaked. “He ran away. An argument, with my parents. I want… I wanted him to come home. I want him back.” The tears tickled his hairline and ears. “I’m waiting for him.” A low and long hissed exhaled from the creatures… teeth. It spoke, but its jaw never moved.

 “I will agree to your terms then. What you seek, I shall thus compensate.” The creature then crouched down, its knee poked from the low folds of its cloak. Chad winced when the creature lifted its arm; but it only drew its sleeve across its snout and hat. A hand took up one smore sandwich and slipped it behind the raised arm. Crunching issued.

 The creature went through two more smores, before it spoke, “These are good.” After a short beat, it lifted its crown and peeked above the dark sleeve of its arm. “Is that all which you seek? Do you wish that I seek?”

 Nearly all the smores were gone. Chad gawked at the plate, and then at the thing. “Don’t hurt me.”

 “You are my client. I can do you no harm.” It snuffled, and a black tendril of moisture seeped from its nose hole. In fact, the entire inside of its nostril was glistening with that slime. “What it is you want. Be clear with your request, I would not wish to misconstrue it.” The dark pits behind its molars deepened, almost sinister like a sharpened grin.

 “You… can find my brother?”

 “I can seek your brother,” it corrected. “Locating is a possibility, but I won’t make promises. I grant wishes, but I am tethered by possibility and physicality. What is it you will have of me?” It raised a sleeve across its snout, and resumed eating.

 Chad found himself tilting his head down into the blanket of his bed, trying to see beneath the arm; petrified but at the same time, fascinated. “I only had to feed you?”

 “That is tribute. Yes.”

 “And… you can find— look for my brother? Sterling.” Chad shifted up out of the covers, carefully. He scooted back, though there was no place for him to run or escape to; he remained trapped. But he wanted to accept the idea that this… thing from the woods, was not dangerous. Not to him.

 “Make your request, and I will provide my service.” The creature slipped its snout from behind the sleeve, and tilt its head down. The hat hid its brow and skull, everything but the sparkling knobs of its incisors.

 “Are you real? You’re some kind of monster, aren’t you?”

 “I compliment your keen judge of appearances, and intuition.” The creature shifted, the frame crinkled and clicked as its body rearranged until it was straightened and upright. Chad was almost certain that his father had to be taller than the creature, but it had the capacity to loom up and up and up….. “Was it a monster you needed? Sometimes, only a monster can find what is lost.”

 A memory rekindled itself in Chad.  Once upon a time, Sterling told him stories about fairytale creatures, and old myths of dead legends; not the kid stuff, but the real Grimm’s Fairytales. Chad was certain the thing emerged off a treacherous deer path – that went nowhere – and their parents always made a point to warn them away from.

 And ate the smores. It even liked them.

 Sterling always said, ‘if all else fails, be polite, be courteous. If you can’t fight it back, then try flattering one into submission. Maybe you can earn its favor’.

 This could all be a dream too. Chad didn’t feel like he was dreaming, but how many dreams did he encounter in his lifetime wherein he knew in the dream that he was dreaming? Not many. He reached under the blanket and pinched himself. His arm stung.

 “What sort of monster are you?”

 “I grant wishes,” it hummed. The tenure vibrated in Chad’s chest. “I offer good fortune, and favor. So long as I am wanted, so long as I am fed.”

 “And smores are fine?” The creature sniggered, charming a timid smirk from Chad. It didn’t seem bad; unsettling and spooky but harmless.

 “Share a plate with me, and good luck ye shall see.”

 Chad took a last piece of bread, and set a bit of cheese on it. He put the skillet onto the curling flames of the fire and let it cook.  The eye sockets and the faint spark within them watched intently. When the bread was toasted brown and the cheese a warm little dollop, Chad took the morsel and set it on his plate. He didn’t want to extend his arm directly to the thing. The skull shifted, and peered at him.

 “This is for you,” Chad assured.

 With that affirmation, the creature accepted the morsel. It, again, put its sleeve over its head and the soft munching sounds emitted.

 “Do you have a name?” Chad stalled when the skull raised, and the eyes bore into him. He waned under the gaze.

 “Spate.”

 “Spate?” Chad echoed. That wasn’t much of a name, but he didn’t say otherwise.

 “That is what I am. That is what I call. What are you?”

 “I’m a Chad. Chadwick,” was the reflex response. “Chadwick K, Spencer.” The creature – Spate – nodded, as if it expected the name. It fiddled with the clasps on its coat, and adjusted its collar. “I want to look for my brother. You’ll do this?”

 Chad had an abrupt realization. If he sent this creature to find his brother, Sterling might be horrified by its appearance same as Chad was by its approach. He didn’t want to frighten his brother, and he didn’t know what Spate might do if it found his brother. Was it literal in its request – it would find Sterling and then report back? Or did Chad have to first request it return with Sterling? Eitherway, Chad didn’t want to leave it to work by itself; if all possible.

 But the next announcement plunged his heart into despair.

 “You have exhausted your tribute. Do you have more food?”

 Chad scrambled in the dying light of the firepit. He had scraps of bread, but that didn’t seem adequate. He shouldn’t attempt offering it sub quality foodstuff, and risk it turning on him. It didn’t seem like the creature would do that, but there was no telling what Spate was willing or not. The thing only seemed friendly civil, but for how long?

 “I don’t,” he admitted, softly.  “I can go into my kitchen, and find something.” Chad stared at the faint little lights in the depths of the eye sockets, the only visible surface of the creature he could make out now that the fire was diminished completely in the damp air. “I’m sorry.”

 “You’ll be fine,” Spate uttered. “You know my name. You can create, and offer, and I will return at your behest. When you are ready.”

 But Chad was ready. He wanted to find his brother. But it was dark and the air folded over his arms and body clammy, and he was very-very tired.  He didn’t want to believe he was frightened enough to revoke the desire for finding his brother, but really he was.

 “Then I bid you well,” the creature uttered. It’s body creaked and the lights flickered. “Consider with passion what you yearn for, and I will be expected.”

 The air became quiet, except for a distant twining on the fog. After several minutes, Chad had the nerve together to grab the shortspade and scuffle at the suppressed embers. There was enough life in the coals to flutter on the surrounding grass and mist, but there was no indication of Spate. No shape or glittering shadow, the only indication of the creature’s presence passing was an empty plate where smores once sat stacked.

Next -  We Follow Roads to Nowhere

[agentmarymargaretskitz]

Vixenwave? - Mick & Amaya trying to get rid of a body??

(This was short but got long)

“I can’t believe we’re saddled with this,” Amaya groaned, walking away from the window she’d been staring out of.

Mick nodded in agreement, sending a glance at the body. “Not even out fault that he’s dead.”

“Maybe now directly, but we did play a role to lead up to it,” Amaya reminded him as she paced past one of the chairs in the hotel room.

“How come we even have to dispose of him?” Mick grumbled.

“Because we aren’t actively needed,” she reminded him. “Ray’s impersonating this man downstairs. It’s lucky that none of the people down there don’t have a clue what he’s really supposed to look like. But how are we supposed to get rid of the body without leaving a trace?”

“Beats me.”

Amaya frowned and looked over at him. “Seriously? You don’t know?”

“Nope.”

“You’ve never disposed of a body before?”

“I’m a crook, not a clean-up crew,” Mick told her. “Anyways, Snart and I didn’t kill unless we had to. Most of the kills were crooks like us. Didn’t really matter if anyone found them or not. When I was Chronos, there wasn’t really anything left to clean up.”

“So neither of us have ever gotten rid of a body before,” Amaya pressed her lips together. “Great. But we still need to find a way to dispose of the body. Any ideas?”

“We start by getting him out of here,” her companion said, stepping over to a cart that had been brought in for room service. “Get him out of the building with this and take him somewhere.”

“That’s your plan?” Amaya raised her eyebrows.

“Got a better idea?” he asked. “It’s not even the full plan.”

She shook her head. “Then let’s just get this over with.”

Mick grinned as they stuffed the body into the cart. “Thought you said bad guys do have more fun?”

“That was before I thought I’d have to dispose of a body,” she muttered in response.

They managed to get the body onto the cart, down an elevator, and out of the hotel with little trouble. Mick hotwired a car for them as Amaya crammed the body into the backseat. The dead man ended up leaning against the window, and hopefully he’d just look like he was asleep. Mick had lowered the hat to cover the man’s eyes before they got into the front and drove off into the dusk.

They made a stop at one store along the way for “supplies”. Mick went in alone, and came out with a brown bag that he passed to her before he started driving again. Amaya eventually realized they were getting closer to the river. As soon as they drove as close to the water as they could, the sun had now set. Mick killed the engine and shut off the headlights.

“Now what?” she asked as they got out of the car. “Dump him in the river?”

“Nah, not yet,” Mick shook his head as he lifted the dead man over his shoulder. “Something else comes first.”

“And that is?”

“What I do best,” he replied. “Light things on fire.”

Amaya then looked in the bag. It was hard to make out what exactly was in it, but she had a guess. “Really?”

“Best way I can think to get rid of a body,” Mick told her as she followed him down to the shore. “Or at least it’ll be hard to identify him if they ever find him.”

“If the JSA could see me now,” she thought to herself as she passed the bag over to him before wrapping her coat tighter around herself. It was chiller than she’d expected it to be.

Mick soon had the corpse blazing in what Amaya had to admit was an impressive inferno. She stepped a little closer to him, feeling the heat of the flames against her face. It felt a bit wrong to be getting heat off a man who was being burned. 

Mick simply rubbed his hand together and held them out over the fire.

Amaya shook her head a little.

“Up for s’mores?” Mick asked her.

She frowned. “What?”

“Look in the bag.”

Picking up the brown paper bag, Amaya peered inside. With the light of the fire, she could make out a bag of marshmallows, a few chocolate bars, and a box of graham crackers. Back in the 1940s, Rex had talked to her about s’mores, but she had never really had one before. She’s heard about them too during conversations on the Waverider, but had been told not to use the food replicator since it was best to do it with a campfire.

“How exactly do you make s’mores?” she asked, lifting her head back up to look at him.

Mick looked surprised. “You roast a marshmallow on a fire and shove it between two graham crackers with chocolate. It’s awesome.”

Amaya stared at the fire in front of them. “You want to toast a marshmallow on the man we’re burning?”

“Figured you’d say that,” Mick said, sounding a bit sheepish. “So I got something else.”

He took the bag from her and rifled inside it to pull out a small camp stove.

“Will that work?” she asked him.

“Probably,” Mick shrugged. “If it doesn’t, I can make it.”

The camp stove ended up working just fine. After Mick made a trip to the sad little tree on the riverbanks to get some sticks, Amaya was able to learn of the joys of s’mores. She smiled over at Mick as she swiped melted marshmallow from her lips and he set another marshmallow on fire. Sitting on the riverbanks and watching the city at night while eating s’mores with him was actually really nice.

Although if she ever did it again, she’d make sure they weren’t burning a body.

Prompt-a-thon