#casey's is a little more... hm because the thing is it's not like we have a big enough feud sample size to compare with

[batsplat]

deeply compelled by this photo

[lazulirus]

Fair Play

• The things you had to do as a law student... for sure you didn’t expect to descend into the infamous Night Raven College to argue with one of their dorm leaders.

• Pairing: Azul Ashengrotto x reader (gender-neutral) (not MC) • Genre: fluff • Word Count: 4.6k • Warnings: none • Note: aka Lazu using her dubious law knowledge for fun

It seemed like a law student never had vacations.

Sure, for some being able to go through the historical halls of Night Raven College would be better than a visit to any tropical country or rest in the best hotels. You would probably enjoy it too, if it weren’t for the stressed student leading you through the never-ending corridors, the silly anemone on his head the only colour in the gloomy school. His glances towards you were like spells you could never dream of using - sharing that stress of his with you. But despite that, you gave him a smile every time he looks back; the lawyer should always be levelheaded.

“So… Casey. What does he look like?” The meaningless question was better than the tension created by the silence between you two - the jazz music from the cafe was annoying buzzing rather than a kind distraction. 

“White hair, in a stupid suit like all Octavinelle students, you’ll recognise him by a shit-eating grin.”

“Hm~ You described him so nicer just a few days ago.” 

“Because I didn’t know he was a scammer then!” When a few clients and workers - either wearing distinctive hats or anemones - shot him a glance he got timid, and added in a whisper: “I just now see the red flags, okay? Just, don’t trust his looks.” 

“Eh~? Little fry is late for his shift~!” 

The arguing between Casey and a ridiculously tall man dressed loosely in a suit becomes another background noise. The pleading of being innocent and menacing cackling were drawing the attention of others, but people were quick to look away as if looking at the tall student for too long was like a curse. Maybe it was? You wondered, your gaze jumping from one twin to another - the second one a bit less scary looking - you didn’t know very well how magic worked after all.

“And you have to be our esteemed guest,” This twin, despite face being the same, was way more elegant and with a soothing aura; it was proof of how much a well-kept attire could do. You stealthily take a glance at your clothes, wondering if you were underdressed for the occasion; all of them in suits, maybe Octavinelle being a mafia wasn’t a joke. “I’m Jade Leech and that–” He gestures towards the twin who was dragging your guide towards the kitchen. “–was my brother Floyd.”

You nodded, giving your name that they probably already knew. The eccentric Headmaster you met a day prior promised to give them all the needed information. “Azul is waiting for you in the VIP room. Shall we?” Before you could do anything more than nod, Jade’s hand was between your shoulder blades as he guided you between tables. There was nothing to be scared of, at least you tried to make yourself think that. Azul was around your age, and sure, he was in prestige school with the future to be an outstanding mage, but at the end of the day, he was just a student. It wasn’t like you will compete with him on the ground of magic and spells, you were almost equal! 

Those thoughts quickly left your head as the grand VIP room suffocated you with its brilliance, and Azul overwhelmed you with his mere presence. Calm and collected, already sitting on one of the couches, his presence perfect from the tilt of the hat to the shine of his boots. Meanwhile, you can only clutch onto the strap of your bag; hesitating. 

“Ah, Welcome! I’m Azul Ashengrotto, the dorm leader of Octavinelle, although I’m certain you already knew that.” Like a true gentleman, he stood up to greet you, the light sparkling delicately in his glasses. You no longer were surprised that so many idiots had fallen for his charm, not when such pretty lips were letting out such a smooth, calming voice. 

Your looks were a little plain, but Azul was smarter than to judge a book by its cover - there was a reason why Crowley would allow you to visit Night Raven Collegue outside of events. Especially on such short notice, as only yesterday he was informed about the visit. A noble? An esteemed mage? You weren’t someone who Azul recognised and it only made him more intrigued; the mystery caused fascination and hopefully many opportunities.

Jade leaves you two for a moment, short enough to only allow you to sit on the opposite sides of the table but long enough for him to return with a steaming hot pot of tea. As the butler-like student - you wondered if it was in his nature or was it a role he took in this bizarre place - was pouring it into the cups, Azul spoke up:

“I don’t usually grant wishes for outsiders, but since our kind Headmaster allowed it–”

“Oh, I’m not here for your deals.” You open the laptop on your lap, the white pages of the documents illuminating your face even so slightly. “I’m here to represent my cousin - Casey, first-year student of Heartslabyul, and prove that your contract was unfair; null and void.” 

The tea pours over the cup.

“...Excuse me?” Jade fumbles with the napkins, correcting his mistake as his intrigued gaze jumps from you to dumbfounded Azul. “Is this some kind of a joke?”

“No. Mister Crowley didn’t tell you?” It was the only reason why the headmaster allowed you to enter - he believed a student could find a similar language with another student. “Casey gave me all the information he could, although I was disappointed to know you didn’t give him a copy of the contract. It’s a bad practice.” Looking for proper articles would be easier with the contract, but you didn’t have time to demand a rightful copy; you had to work with what you had. …Which wasn’t much.

“This… this is unacceptable,” He said adjusting his glasses, and there was no longer kindness in his expression, the blues eyes glaring at you. “I should have been informed that it will be this kind of meeting.”

“I think it’s fine. Your clients also came unprepared.”

“We never turned away anyone who came with assistance to understand Azul’s service in a more in-depth manner,” Jade chimed in, standing behind the dorm leader like a shadow, “the fact that no one ever came with such help is a problem beyond our control.”

As you ignore Jade’s comment and kept yourself busy with preparing all the information and opening all needed Codes, Azul was sweating. It wasn’t visible, just a few pearls hidden by the shade of the fedora, but it was there; reminding him of his own anxiety. Way too many students came to his doors full of teeth and claws but always with more bark than bite - only able to scream and moan about how all of it was unfair. But you came silently, sitting in front of him with the calmness of a true outsider; no matter the results, it won’t truly affect you. other students were just crabs and snails, but you were a wave; unaffected by a tiny octopus.

Azul adjust his glasses again, despite them being perfect like everything in his little sand castle - or so he thought as now it felt like a wave was coming. Creeping, inching slowly but quietly, like a silence before a storm.

“The fact that you’re both minors should make this contract null from the beginning,” Azul takes a deep breath and counts to four. “Unless I’m mistaken? Casey said that you’re seventeen.” Five heartbeats before he let out his breath.

“It is true… Although I wouldn’t agree with the former statement.” And there he was, with the voice lacking the grand intonations from the beginning but also not as hasty as the moment before. Calm and collected, making you raise an eyebrow even so slightly; was his nickname of octopus coming from how quickly he changes his act like a camouflage? “It was an agreement that provided him with notes for exams, it’s simply a minor matter of everyday life for a student.”

“Article twenty of Civil Law Code if I remember correctly.” Jade allowed himself to walk behind you, the coach still separating the two of you, but his face was uncomfortably close as his fingers skimmed over your laptop’s keyboard, quickly finding the needed article. “[A person limited in the capacity for legal action may, without the consent of the statutory representative, conclude contracts belonging to contracts commonly concluded in a minor current matter of everyday life.]” From the corner of your eye, you could see eerily close how his lips bend in a delicate smile. 

“However,” You say, your lips trembling to not form into a scoff; you scroll up to reveal another paragraph, Jade’s eyes looking with interest. “[When a person incapable of legal acts has entered into an agreement belonging to the agreements commonly concluded in minor matters of everyday life, such an agreement becomes valid upon its implementation, unless it entails gross detriment to the person incapable of legal acts.] Don’t you think having him work for till he graduates is a bit excessive? I think it’s grossly big punishment that doesn’t suit the crime.” 

“Punishment? Crime? I think you’ve misunderstood something.” Azul said, spreading his hands with a pained expression; as if your words hurt his very pride. “It was a fair agreement. The article you cited - article fourteen I believe? Excuse me for being unsure if it’s the first or second paragraph - only works for a person incapable of legal acts. Given that your dear cousin is seventeen he has limited capacity for legal actions. Thus, he was well in his right to agree to this contract and fully aware of what he was agreeing upon.”

“Still…” You mumbled before taking a sip of the tea; it was better than you expected. “Tilia tea with raspberries, I’m delighted you’re enjoying it.” Azul chimed in with a smile that could almost make you forget how scummy he was… scummy with a good taste, though. It was impressive and a bit unnerving how quickly he saw the change in your expression, despite how soft it was. The clank of porcelain was the only answer Azul got as you put the cup back down.

“Anyway, I still think your contract is unfair.” Azul raises his eyebrow, both surprised and amused by your fighting spirit; with a nod he encourages you to go on. “First of all, let’s make it clear: The first part were you giving study guides in exchange for… talents; magic; something like this. Then the idio– Casey,” Azul chuckles but hides it quickly by coughing into his fist, you don’t even notice as you look through the Code. “I guess we can say that him getting high marks thanks to your guide was like a promotion of the item…" You mumbled the last part more to yourself, but Azul could hear every word. As you go through your notes about the case, Azul couldn’t help but stare a little - what a peculiar case you were yourself. You didn’t come here with empty arguments - like many others, throwing accusations and trying to ‘gotcha’ Azul without a second thought - you were actually thinking. Not only selfishly looking from only your perspective but also his, like just now, already saying argument he had on the back of his tongue. Trying so hard to predict his next move… Oh, what a shame it was you weren’t part of the student body.

 “Since he didn’t fulfil his part of the agreement the punishment was being your slave–”

"No no, they aren't slaves.” Azul said with a chuckle; you didn’t find it funny at all. “I would say they're high-class workers on contract work.”

“They even get employee dinners," Jade commented.

“Contract work requires wages but since they’re working off their debt to you for failing their part of the agreement I won’t even go into that…” Peculiar and intelligent, how refreshing to talk with someone on his level and avoid unnecessary squabble. “But still, since it’s Mutual Agreement, tell me, [The debtor is obliged to repair the damage resulting from lack of service or improper service of the obligation,] how my cousin passing with not enough points was damaging and working to the bone in your cafe is repairing those damages?”

“Well, that’s rather simple. I spent ages creating that guidebook, I also had to sacrifice my time to prepare the contract and make the deal with your cousin. All that time could be used for managing the Monstro Lounge. Since Casey didn’t uphold his part of the agreement, he wasted my time.” Those blue eyes of his became a bit sharper, the smile gaining another layer, more cunning and mocking “And as you said, his results being unimpressive hurts the reputation of my precious guides. If I can’t profit from them, I have to put more work into the cafe. Would you buy a guide if it only guaranteed to pass the exams with mediocre results?”

“If I was desperate, sure. As far as I know, only this type of people came to you.” It earned a chuckle out of Jade, but his gloved hand wasn’t quick enough to cover the sharp teeth peeking out. The predatory feature makes you gulp, wondering if Jade was really needed for the discussion - it was probably fair that he was helping since Azul wasn’t informed, but his creepy behaviour was making you uneasy. His two-coloured eyes catch your gaze and your heart became heavy when he smiles even wider; sharp razor teeth. This for sure was intimidation! 

You still wondered how anyone could fall for such a contract - especially given in such a shady environment and company! Casey praised his ‘secret help’ since the moment he got it, he wouldn’t shut up about it every time you messaged each other. At first, you praised him, proud that he was getting serious about exams for once, but after learning in detail about the contract you didn’t know if you should strangle him or worse. If Azul’s guide was so good, why would he gamble on Casey getting into the top 50 results? He would have to either believe that Casey won’t use it, was too stupid or knew that despite the guide, getting such high marks was… impossible.

“paragraph two of article three hundred eighty-seven… [A party that knew about the impossibility of the service at the time of concluding the contract, and did not correct the other party's wrong assumptions, is obliged to repair the damage that the other party suffered because it concluded the contract without knowing about the impossibility of service.]”

“Oh my, that’s quite the accusation.” His chuckle was irritating, and the smugness was written all over, but the corners of his lips didn’t reach blue eyes showing his disappointment, his opponent turned out to be nothing more than another whining crab. “It’s harsh to say that the conditions I gave to my clients were impossible…” 

“I talked with one of Casey’s friends,” you attack quickly, “Ace, I think? He and his other friends quoted that you had esteemed that with your guide, Ace should get at least 90 points.”

“That’s relatively a lot for someone afraid he won’t pass at all, no? I think it only proves how useful my guide is.”

“He got 92 and despite that failed the contract requirements. So you knew that he won’t be able to archive the goal of being in the top 50.”

“I said that we will get at least, so that means–”

“How many people had your help? Casey said that there were around two hundred students; that’s already quite the competition and to that, we have to count other naturally gifted students. The dorm leaders already take seven spots… To that we can count the vice dorm leaders, I can bet they’re as talented as dorm leaders since they got that title, so it would be 14 spots out of 50… that leaves 36 spots! And that’s not counting other smart students without the titles!” 

“Indeed, the 30 students on top of the list had perfect marks; five hundred points, among them, were dorm leaders: Riddle Rosehearts, Malleus Draconia, Vil Schoenheit or Azul Ashengrotto.” Jade added and even his dorm leader’s glare - one screaming Traitor! - couldn’t shut him up nor make him stop smiling.

You cross your arms. If those with the guides had around 90 points, getting even on the 50th place was impossible - not even a challenge, it was a dream! Not doable, not achievable no matter how hard one would try. “Don’t you think it counts as impossible?”

“Even if…” Azul avoids your gaze, but quickly returns - he would rather look at your alluring confidence than the irritating enjoyment of Jade. “They were aware of the knowledge that dorm leaders have to exhibit. And when it comes to clients, I couldn’t simply inform them of others forming the same contract. Details such as who made and what contract they made with me and why it was made; that's all privileged data, a matter of client confidentiality.” He gains back his confidence, yet he adjusts his glasses once again. “It was written on page 59; details about confidentiality. To put it simply, none of the sides can talk about the details of the contract until it’s finalised. I was simply abiding by the contract for the sake of my clients.”

“So the contract was faulty,” You tilt your head to the side. “No? If you tell them, you break the contract and if you don’t, you break the law. No matter what you do you can’t legally fulfil your obligations.” 

Azul exchanged glances with Jade, the blue gaze was alarmed and didn’t resemble the amusement in mismatched colours. Then, he looks even worse, pale and almost sick when his companion smiles at him, oh so kindly. 

“Oh my, I see that this conversation might go on for a while longer,” he picks up the cold and half-full cups. “I’ll go fetch more tea.” 

“Jade–!” But the door was already closed, leaving the two of you alone. You try to keep yourself busy even though your constant writing was nothing more than nonsense lines of letters. You didn’t want to meet Azul’s glare. It was heavy, annoyed - no, mad, and you couldn’t blame him for that reaction… but also couldn’t spare him. 

“It would be way easier if we had a judge or something…” You mumbled, the clicking of the keyboard filling the room. “Uh, the Heartsbyul has a lot of rules, right? I think their dorm leader would be good to resolve this matter fairly, at least Casey said that he is all about fairness and rules.” 

It was not a good idea. At all. Making it public that his contracts were nothing but perfect and watertight… A cold sweat collected on Azul’s skin. If they learn of it - those fools, idiots that just want to slack and then beg for help - all of them will come back with the same excuse, all of them will think of him as the fool they can screw over. Mockery from Leona, judgment from Riddle… 

“I’m sure we can come to an agreement.” He said a bit too quickly, and he sees the tower of his sand castle crumbling under the water as you smile at him first time since you came here. It was sickly sweet; pretty. “I cannot release all of my debtors from the contracts due to that, but I can–”

“Nah, I don’t care about that.” You cut him off, shrugging. “I just want my cousin out of this.” You weren’t working pro bono, which came as a surprise, although it shouldn’t. He got so used to everyone in this school having an ulterior motive, a second face that he foolishly thought that outsiders might not be like that - your similarity to him was more prominent than Azul expected, or perhaps selfishness was simply a trait of all land and sea dwellers.

“Then… I release Casey from under the contract and in exchange,” he disregards your scoff with deliberate ignorance, “I would like consultations with you.” You noted already that Azul smiles a lot, no matter if the cards were in his favour or not - whenever he had to fake a good hand or really had it. It was fascinating how such a young man was able to control himself so skillfully, that his words were so soft; innocent; like gentle music but you heard a screech on the melody. 

“What exactly do you mean by that?” And to your surprise, the scummy businessman doesn’t seem annoyed. 

“I want you to look through my next contracts; find any oversights.” A rather easy request, no?

“Only once a week, and I don’t want to rewrite or fix them, just point them out. And I’ll do it with the duty of care expected from a mere student.” Seemingly, yes, but there was so much more. Pointing out that you were a mere student was important – that way Azul couldn’t expect from you the knowledge and skills matching those of a lawyer. Range of your duties, how often and for how long… From the way he was so tight-lipped with those informations, you could guess other students didn’t ask for them, probably. Were all of them all stupid as Casey?

“Hah~ Once a week is for sure a reasonable request, given how busy we are as students.” The light reflects beautifully in Azul’s glasses as he gets up, like a playful wink that would match the self-satisfied smirk; it makes you feel as if you didn’t have the upper hand. The metallic groan of the safe, the clacking of perfectly polished shoes and the view of the white-as-snow glove that contrasted strongly with the golden contract. It all was like a movie experience, way too pristine and perfect, even Azul’s lulling voice:

“Here is Casey’s contract. It will become null the moment we sign ours.” He lays the contract on his desk; enough to be in your view but far away for him to feel safe. “I’ll admit, I’m impressed with your knowledge, no one before fought so well against my contracts.” After a moment of shock, you smile faintly. 

“The feeling is mutual.” Your eyes were focused on putting the laptop into the case, making sure to not scrap it with the zip. “...I kinda admire your work. I mean, it’s not very fair towards others, but it’s just school stuff so… I just want to say I’m impressed with that stun you pulled.” The pen stopped, and Azul’s gaze moved towards you. Sitting behind the great, wooden desk, you felt like a student in front of a teacher; he was perfect just like the moment you first saw him, composed to the point you could think the conversation never occurred, the deal between you was never made. As he doesn’t comment - you’re not sure if Azul even blinked - you started to ramble, flustered. “Just, I’m sure it’s not easy to pull something like this. Over two hundred students? And you actually helped them pass? And it was so hard to find any problem with your contracts! No wonder you get nicknamed an octopus, you’re as smart as one!”

“I am an octopus, though…?” He blurted out.

“What?”

“Have you never heard of mermen?” Your awe-struck face makes Azul chuckle way more honestly than he ever expected himself to do. You were so crafty yet so ignorant about the basic magic part of this world; he would be offended that such a person beat him in his own game if it wasn’t this fascinating. It felt like losing a game of chess to Floyd - unexpected, but only awakening a craving to figure out the bizarre way of thinking of his opponent. “There are a few of us in Night Raven College, me included.” 

The gleam of excitement in your eyes was also Floyd-like - Azul thought before getting back to writing; the first letter, fresh with ink was shaky. “Woah~! Now all of Casey’s rambling make sense.” 

“He also mentioned you.” Azul smiled fondly. “He threatened me with his lawyer cousin and how here I am, regretting I didn’t take him more seriously.” Maybe then he wouldn’t have an upcoming headache from stress, but he also wouldn’t meet such an interesting person. “It’s a shame that person of your talents wasn’t lucky to join us here, you would make a great addition to the Octavinelle.” Such sweet words, made of honey; the sweetness seeping into you, making your heart heavy with pride and cheeks warm. Inviting you to get closer, stand in front of Azul, your hip resting on the side of the desk. 

“Perhaps…” His writing becomes slower, the letter slightly heavier as Azul takes his time writing each of them. “After we’re done with this, I could show you around, the College is pleasingly quiet around this hour.” The way he glances at you, his big eyes barely visible makes your heart skip a beat and your tongue goes limp in your mouth. He wanted to spend more time with you? 

The paper was pushed towards you, but Azul doesn’t lose eye contact, maybe for a moment when he averts his gaze, his smile apologetic. “Although I still have after-class activities… The headmaster should be kind enough to look the other way if you would be willing to join me there, it’s nothing magic-related.” 

There was only a buzz in your head; a mix of excitement and fluster. A tour around the Night Raven, taking part in their activities, even if they weren’t the real classes - it all was unreal, too good to be true someone would say. But when the stress of the encounter left you, leaving only sweet praise and an even sweeter smile from a handsome man, it was hard to not take the pen and the opportunity. 

“No way.” His smile drops and so does all the glow and splendor around him. You barely stop a scowl, unsure if you should even point it at the shady man or the paper. “I’ll be around for the following days. I’ll come to read and sign the contract personally, no need for Casey to be the middle man.” 

“I was only looking out for you.” Azul’s tone was just a bit colder, even though still kind, he no longer was shy or rather no longer acted like it. “No need for you to waste your time on the formalities.” It was said without any malice, you weren’t even sure if you could hear mocking in his voice.

“It is kinda my future job.” You scoffed, no longer able to hide the disgust and your anger grew stronger when Azul didn’t even flinch. “I guess the offer is no longer valid, so–”

“I was serious about showing you around.” Azul cuts in, muffling the noise of crumbling paper, just a flash of disappointment on his face when the unfulfilled scheme goes to the trash. It was a good plan, but perhaps the execution of it wasn’t worth it; now his heart was rowdy, and blood hummed in his ears. “My praise wasn’t a lie. I truly admire your skills.” But the honey no longer allured you, even if looked so well.

“Then you can treat me to some cake when I get back to sign the thing.” You suggested, no, demanded before outreaching your hand with another order. “Your phone.” Azul raised an eyebrow. 

“Is this extortion?”

“It’s writing my number.” You fought yourself to not smile at his completely-lame joke. “Unless you want me to come over every day to check if you’re done?”

His heart skip a beat. 

“Gladly.”

[purplemarshal]

Pretty Boy

Bruv, I am sleeping over at a friends house tonight, and I pulled this out of my ass. Legit 967 words, the last one was over 700 and I told myself that I didn't want to go more than that but here we are.

T.W. Angst , swearing, and Scream.

Donnie P.O.V.

As the night drew on, my family gradually retreated to their rooms. Starting with Splinter, we don’t know when he left, but he did. Next was Leo, she was worried about how everyone would act tomorrow and convinced Mikey to also go around 10pm. Raph stayed until 12ish.

Leaving me with the one and only Casey Jones.

The only light in the lair was the T.V. playing some horror movie that we had seen several times already, in all honesty I think that Casey fell asleep awhile ago from how still and quiet he was. 

“So, you got a boyfriend?”

“Why? You wanna ask me out?”

“Maybe. Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No.”

I sigh, no matter how many times I see this movie I can’t get over the fact that she lied about not having a boyfriend and then he got killed like, instantly.

“You never told me your name.”

“Why do you want to know my name?”

“Because I want to know who I'm looking at.”

“What did you say?”

“I want to know who I'm talking to.”

“That's not what you said.”

“What do you think I said?” 

Click.

The room turned pitch black as the only source of light went out, so did the sounds of the 1996 horror movie, leaving me with the dripping water and sounds of cars above ground. 

“Casey?” I whispered harshly only to get a small “hm” in response.

“Dumb ass, get up, I think someone cut the power or something.” I nudged the lump of blankets as I stood up, my knees popping from sitting on the floor for so long. Casey however didn’t make any attempts to move. 

So I figured that it would be alright if I took things into my own hands, literally picking him up and placing him in front of me. Only for him to hit the ground with a loud thump.

“Dee?” He muttered, sleep still apparent in his voice. “Wait, why is it so dark?”

I heard him shuffle from his blankets that stayed on top of him even on the floor. 

“Something happened to the power.” I explained as Casey stood up fully, “we need to find out what’s up with it.”

The human snickered, “got too scared to go alone huh Don? Needed big ol’ Casey Jones to help ya?” 

He reached his arm forward a few times before it made contact with me, when it did he pulled the rest of himself to close the gap, leaning most of his weight on me. His hands were soft. How did he keep his hands so soft? He went on patrol and trained with us while still juggling hockey and basically caring for his little sister.

“Riiight.” I said sarcastically. I had forgotten how he asks when tired, extra. Extra everything. “Let’s get to my lab, then we should be able to see what’s up.” I started walking with my muscle memory guiding the two of us to the place that I spent most of my time.

The door slightly creaked as I pushed it open, I smiled at the familiar smell of my lab. Luckily some of my projects offered an ethereal light to the room and its belongings. Not so luckily however, there was a thin layer of smoke that surrounded the desk with all of my chemicals.

“Sorry Casey, I’ve been working on this project for a few days and-” I looked at the limp boy still wrapped around me. “-And you're asleep. Wonderful. Idiot.” I whispered as I set him down in one of my spare chairs before walking away to go to the breaker.

A few minutes passed with me trying to figure out what was going on before the almost silence was broken.

“Do you really mean it?” Casey’s voice was still exhausted, but now there was something else in it. It sounded raw and harsh, but there was still something softer than normal. 

“Idiot, you will have to be more specific.”

“That.” His voice broke. “Do you really think that I’m an idiot?”

I looked in his direction, his face looked softer through the smoke even if it was now red and his eyes were puffy.

“Jones.”

“I don’t mean it whenever I say it, you're really smart and strong and, and-” His voice broke as the unwelcomed tears started flowing. “Do you remember what I said the other day?” A sniff. “During patrol?” He sounded hopeless, told you he was extra when he was tired.

I took a deep breath as I walked closer but stopped to take a sip of coffee that I had left out earlier, it was cold now but still tasted good enough. 

“Casey, I think you should go back to sleep.”

“Donnie.” He begged.

My body moved on its own and pulled him into a hug, of which he accepted immediately, holding me tight and stuffing his face into the crook of my neck as he continued to cry. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t even know what I was doing.

The teen kept crying as I started to run my fingers through his hair, but slowed down as I started the sing. I knew he liked the song but I didn't have the words memorized so I mainly mumbled it. 

Leo used to do this for me, but lately she didn’t have the time.  

His breathing slowed and I realized he had fallen back asleep. I wanted to get off of the chair to leave him alone but his arms remained tight on me. So, rather than bothering Casey I opted to stay with him, for his comfort of course! Not because he was warm, and I didn’t have enough strength to get up. Of course not.

God, I hate Pretty boys.

Like I said, I pulled this out of my ass at 10pm last night, my laptop was like 9% and we were watching Be Cool Scooby Doo. Still hope you enjoyed it, there will be even spookier chapters soon. Excpect a short chapter next though.

[indieyuugure]

Hello there

I just finished reading the latest chapter and I was wondering

How do the turtles back on earth know that Mikey is alive? Last we knew they all thought Mikey was dead, so how did they realize he was just captured

I'd say common sense but Idk

Anyways love the comic and so excited for more

Hm, interesting question. 🤔

I suppose part of this is my fault for not making it clearer, but the way Casey phrases those specific sentences are made to be that he’s making them sound more definite than he may actually believe.

Casey’s lines mentioning this are “It’s gonna be alright, dude. Leo’ll find Mikey.” It’s said in a hopeful tone, after all, for all he knows he’s trying to comfort his best friend who believes that his brother is dead and maybe convince him to have a little more hope.

Also, in between Casey’s lines, Raph mentions that he thinks Mikey isn’t dead as well. He says: “Mikey could’ve died because of me! I knew Leo was right but I was so…scared and confused and angry!” Raph is attempting to express that he was feeling the stage of grief “Anger.”

He doesn’t even know why he was so angry. Leo pointed out the flaws in the Kraang’s set up, he explained why it didn’t make any sense, he even drew parallels to other times things like this had happened, so you’d think that he would be over joyed, but that’s not how anger works. It’s not rational.

You can actually see that he doesn’t know why he’s angry in the first part of Retribution, Raph says: “Leo can go to freakin’ hell!” “I don’t give a crap what he has to say! It’s-” “-he’s just-” “…I-I don’t know!” As he’s trying to explain to Donnie why he’s angry, he realizes that even he himself doesn’t know and starts crying not knowing any other way to express the emotions he’s feeling.

So now, looking back after he’s calmed down a bit, Raph’s able to see what Leo was talking about and feels regret and guilt for being blinded by anger that, had Leo not been a stubborn turtle(but also he was in denial), could’ve meant that Mikey was left to die. That’s why he completely breaks down thinking that his anger and shortsightedness could’ve been responsible for killing his brother. It’s also why he thinks comparing himself to Leo is at all sensible.

Casey’s second line about Mikey is: “It wasn’t your fault that Mikey was captured, and none of this was!” It’s implied that most likely Donnie, who was the closest to the phone, heard Leo the clearest out of anyone and relayed what he heard to the others and they pieced together what happened.

There’s actually a scrapped piece of dialogue in Retribution, part 1, (the same page I was talking about earlier) where Raph actually tries to explain his point of view more to Donnie. If I remember, he says that, when asked, April said she couldn’t sense Mikey’s presence anymore. However, obviously if you take into account the possibility that the Kraang took Mikey to a different dimension, this argument stops holding water, and things start making sense.

Sorry that wasn’t as clear as I wished it was, but hopefully this clears some stuff up.

[pianocat939]

Hi can I please request Yandere Casey Jr HCs please I’m fine with platonic or romantic (or both ) 😊 love to see what you come up with

I KNEW THIS DAY WOULD COME. THERE IS NEVER A ROTTMNT WRITER'S BLOG WITHOUT SOMEONE WHO REQUESTS CASEY JR.

Anyway this can be read both platonically and romantically.

Also my analysis probably isn't going to be as accurate as I usually have since homie only appeared in the movie.

Tw: Stalking, trauma, mentions of murder, I can’t write him for shit ;-;

General Yandere Casey Jr Hcs

Type: In denial + Stalker (I'm struggling so hard help-)

He gives huge stalker vibes, especially in the first few scenes where he's trying to find people. Like you saw how he approached April? Boy is speedy.

This is my own interpretation but during the scenes of the movie, especially when he got sent to the future, he seemed almost in denial of having to leave older Leo.

So now that we know why I think he's these specific types let's elaborate on them a bit more.

Stalker. He's the type to go out and physically do it rather than using technology or other people to do the work for him. This also means the times you leave your house everything is exposed to him. Every minuscule little detail.

A possible item hoarder as well. He thinks it's interesting to steal photos of you or papers you've touched. I don't think he would have a shrine but definitely keeps a few things in his pocket.

In denial. He would 100% try to justify his stalking as protecting. I don't give a fuck about what other humans think, after the movie, it makes sense (Bro literally went through so many deaths since like 9).

You know this is kind of an iffy statement but maybe he'll be the type who doesn't even realize his actions are wrong until someone tells him. I don't know how I got this idea, it's just a random thought.

"What? I'm being creepy? How? I'm just protecting them, you never know what could be out there."

The reason he even develops his craziness (no I don't have a better name) is an overall build-up trauma of all the events that's occurred throughout the apocalypse and childhood.

He's honestly the mildest of all the yanderes I can think of in the rottmnt verse. He has rationality somewhat like Donnie and is able to have quite a clear mind even during times of crisis. Ex. the scene where Leo and Casey are trapped underneath the debris.

The only occasions he would kill are under dire circumstances or if he knows something's fucked up.

All in all, not too bad.

"Hm? Oh, this is a photo of you I found in your house, hope you don't mind I took it!"

——————————————————

Sorry, this is short compared to most of my hcs, I have a hard time writing for him since there's less material of him to base off of (because I like using canon traits when incorporating it into my yandere stuff).

- Celina

[bambiraptorx]

Raph watched as his dad smiled, turning his face into the rain even as the downpour grew heavier. Well, Draxum's not exactly his dad, not here in the past. It's getting trickier to remember that the longer he's been stuck here.

"Enjoying the rain, huh?" Raph rumbled.

Draxum's face shifted, his previous joy replaced with a subtly pained expression. "I don't get to see it much. We live in a cave, after all." There was a forlornness to his voice, and Raph had to wonder if rain was yet another item on the list of everything that humans had taken away from yokai. He'd never truly thought about how long that list might be until coming to the past.

Raph closed his eyes, letting the sound and smell of the warm shower wash over him. It's peaceful like this, more so than he's felt in years. Even so, there was a tension in his shoulders that wouldn't quite fade, and he rolled them uneasily. Who would have thought that roughly a decade spent fighting off alien invaders would make it so hard to relax? ...Probably Mikey, actually.

He opened his eyes and blinked, his third eyelid automatically sliding down so he could see through the pouring rain. The temperature had shifted slightly, the once warm droplets now cool on his scales. The future had been cold too, grey and empty and alone.

"Hey, Draxum?" Raph asked, suddenly desperate for some sort of conversation to remind him that he wasn't alone, that he wasn't the only mind in a washed-out world filled with the static-y sound of falling rain.

"Hm?"

"Is my eyeliner running?"

Draxum glanced at him appraisingly. "Yes, quite a bit, actually. Will that irritate your eye?"

Shit, Raph didn't think about that at all when he put it on. The skin under his left eye tingled, as if it had been waiting for the suggestion before becoming annoying. Oh well, he'd had worse. Much worse.

The wind picked up, the heavy rainfall flicking harshly against the deadened patch on his face strong enough he could feel the pressure of it. The storm was gathering strength, and the goat yokai next to him shivered slightly.

"I believe it's time for us to head home, Ragnarok," Draxum said.

Raph nodded. "I've had enough rain for today."

--

Another snippet for my "Raph goes back in time too far AU", continued from this post.

A few things for context:

Raph did not tell Draxum his actual name. He goes by 'Ragnarok' around him (and in the Hidden City in general).

He wears red eyeliner like Casey Sr. did. Also because she did. What can he say, she has great taste.

This particular scene happens after Raph drags Draxum away from his work (creating the oozesquitos, specifically) long enough for them to go to the surface. Raph isn't actively trying to stop Draxum from making the oozesquitos, largely because he doesn't know how that would mess up the timeline.

Yes, Raph is taller than Draxum. Given that snapping turtles never stop growing, the height difference will probably increase.

Feel free to ask questions if you want more info! Just bear in mind that this AU is heavily under construction and I'm still ironing everything out, so details may be a little sparse for now.

[ambraambrose]

@jamespotterthefirst @genevievemd i want to dedicate this little fanfic to you two because your post and comment was perfectly hilarious and because the Open Heart fanfics of you two were the first i read. I hope you like it a little.

As always, English is not my mother language, i'm sorry for any mistakes.

If you don’t like it then you should have take your suite off

Open Heart

Pairing: Ethan x F!MC

2.11 alternate version

Warnings: cursing

Everyone storms off, all of them willing to do everything possible to save Casey and Raf. Only Ethan stays behind, his piercing gaze on Casey.

He is quiet for a while. "Are you okay?" His heart ached, she is here, fighting for her life and yet she asks, if he is okay. "No, Casey, I'm not okay. But you don’t need to hear about that. You should try and get some rest. Have you slept at all?"

He remembers the two nights, she was sleeping in his arms and how happy he was in these moments. How could he waste so much precious time? "No. I can’t stop thinking about Rafael. How long he can last... whether... whether it's already..." "Do you want me to stay with you for a while?" "The others won’t miss you?" "Tobias knows what he is doing. And Elijah was right. Considering what we know about maitotoxins, this is a chemistry problem now. This is where i can do the most good. That is... if you want me here with you."

He is nervous, he would understand, if she'd kicked hm out. "Of course i want you to stay with me. If this is my last night alive, I want to spend it with you." "If i was in your position, I'd feel the same way about you." "Really?" "Really, Casey." She can’t help but smile, he always makes her feel happy and safe.

Ethan suits up and enters the room, gently guiding her to the bed. "Now lie down. As impossible as it sounds, you need to try relax. Think about something happy." She climbs into the bed and Ethan covers her with the blanket, pulling a seat right next to her. "I'm trying, but... I just feel like there were so many things i should have done." "Like what?" She considers. "I should have worked harder." She is unbelievable. "I'm not sure that is physically possible, Casey. I say this as the man who signs off on your time sheet every week." "There‘s still plenty more I could have done. If i'd work harder in high school i could have moved up a year and graduated early. I could have been further in my career by now. I could have helped more people."

He can't help the smile, she is so damn cute, even under this terrible circumstances she has to face. "Casey, with all due respect, that's deranged." "You can’t knock my deathbed regrets! It's not allowed!" He tries not to wince at her words. "Firstly, this isn’t a deathbed. Secondly, I don’t recall there being any universal deathbed etiquette." "Sure there is. 'Don’t dispute the dying person'." He knows she needs this to stay strong and not be confronted with her fear, what by all means sure will be worries about him and her friends but not her own fate. "Not even if the so-called dying person is a workaholic in need of a deathbed intervention?" "Not even then." "Noted."

He smiles at her and it warms her heart but she can sense his worries and he is quiet for a long moment, looking at his hands. He struggles, but then he makes up his mind, he won’t waste more time hiding his feelings for her. "Since we're sharing regrets, do you mind if I share one of mine?" "Go ahead." His gloved hand reaches for hers, looking down at them.

Before he speaks up again he looks her in the eyes. "I wish I hadn’t asked you to stay away." "You do?" "We've wasted so much time. I've wasted so much time. I should have held you in my arms every day and told you how much I...", he hesitates for just a moment. "How much I care about you." His words hit her right into the heart and against all the worries she feels happy. "Ethan, I've always thought we should be together." "You have?" The smile on his face was infectious. "Kind of thought it was obvious, actually." "I'd hate to presume anything. Though... that feeling was very definitely mutual."

He holds her hand tightly, the smile not leaving his face. He looks so happy. She wishes... "i wish i could kiss you." "Soon. You will soon." Her happiness fades as quickly as it came. "Casey? What's wrong?" "It just hit me that Rafael might be the last real human contact I ever have to get, not through plastic." He looks at her, the realization that he wasted so much time with her gets heavier and heavier on his mind.

"I'm sorry, i know it’s unfair and stupid to think like that. It's just that... what are you doing, Ethan?" She looks confused as he stands up from her bed and starts to slip out of the suite. "Ethan! Stop! I'm calling for the others." He peels the gloves off. "Try it, until they are here, i'm already out of this thing and babe, you are too weak to stop me." And with that he takes of the helmet. Casey is shocked, tears run over her face, but she doesn’t seem to recognize. When he steps out of the suite, he gently grabs her arms sitting down with her on the bed so they can look into each others eyes.

"Casey, this won’t be your last night, i'll stop it, we'll stop it and you will be safe again. But i won’t let any chance passing by of being with you, no matter what." And with this he takes her face gently but determined in his hands and kisses her. He easily lifts her up into his lap, pulling her as close as possible. When they break apart, it's her turn to grab his face in her hands. "You are unbelievable, do you know that? How could you do that?" New tears make their way down her cheeks. "They'll find a cure in no time."

He shrugs. "But what if they don’t?" "Then i'm right where i want to be. What should i do without you in this fucking world?" When the meaning of his words downs on her, she strokes his cheeks and then wraps her arms around him. He holds her tight as if he's never gonna leave her.

After a while she finally falls asleep in his arms, snuggling into his chest, while he watches every move of her, gently rubbing her back. "Ethan! What the fuck happened?" Harper shouts, Naveen stands next to her, shaking his head, but not able to hide a knowing smile. "Sssshhh, she is asleep." He carefully entangles himself from her and walks to the window as if it was normal chatting with his colleagues. "Ethan, what happened? Why aren’t you wearing a suite?" He looks down his body as if he had forgotten that his protectional suite was missing.

"There was a a cut in one of my gloves, so i put myself into quarantee." "You could have called us." "Why, you are finding a cure anyway, so no big deal, if there is a patient more." Without another word and a shake of her head, Harper storms down the floor. Naveen steps closer to the window. "Do you have any symptoms yet?" "No." "Good, i hope the next time you need a kick in the ass, please make sure, it won’t be that dangerous again."

@wanderingamongthewildflowers

[asummersday]

ooo for writing asks, 1, 13, 35?

1. do you know how you want the story to end when you start, or are you just stumbling through the figurative wilderness hoping to find a road?

i usually like to have at the very least some idea of how i want a story to end, just so i can guide the narrative in the right direction instead of letting the story wander endlessly or until i lose interest (which is. usually. what happens when i write longfics)

tho i dont usually have a very concrete idea and i never outline for oneshots. and when i DO outline for longer works, i always leave room to stray from the outline (which i do. A LOT)

13. talk about a writing experience that has pleasantly surprised you.

hm. back in 2021 i joined a discord server when i first started getting really into DC comics. before then i was never super active in fandom circles and id just do my own thing.

so this server was just basically my first time really joining a fandom community and there were a lot of writers in there who are very good at enabling each other. i wrote one of my favorite fics ever mostly in that server and id occasionally share bits of what i wrote and everyone would just go insane over it. it was really just so wonderful for me because i'm a pretty shy person and i'm not usually super active in discord servers.

(i am still in that server two years later by the way!)

35. tell us about a character who’s very different than you who you love a whole lot

ooh okay that's a good one.

i'll stick to this fandom for this ask and go with Rise Casey Jones! i just never expected to love her as much as i do, especially with how little of her we actually got. she is just such an interesting character and was a lot of fun to see on screen (for me at least). i enjoyed every episode she showed up in and i really wish we could've gotten more of her.

thank you for the ask! <333

ask game

[machinegunbun]

Benanigans

Word count:1.4k

tw?: smut including semi public sex acts

A/N:this was originally posted in response to an ask but something happened and it got deleted so im reposting it here for now. Enjoy!

The sound of laughter faded back into earshot as you made your way from the kitchen to the living room, taking your seat at the bar behind the couch. Amy and Casey were sitting on the couch in front of you with Pete on the chair directly across from them. They were all enveloped in a conversation that jumped from topic to topic. You weren’t entirely interested, only half listening as you allowed yourself to zone out and enjoy your snack.

In hindsight it probably would’ve been best to stay checked in, considering when you zone out your mind tends to wander to things a little less than appropriate. Thoughts of messy kisses and slow touches filled your mind and you quickly realized you’d been staring at Pete. It was a lot easier, after all, to imagine him doing those things to you when he’s sat right in front of you. He notices you staring, his eyes flicking from his sister up to you. A smirk spreads across your lips as an idea pops into mind.

You pull the skin of your banana down a bit more, sliding the tip in your mouth, making sure to look him right in the eye. There’s a small smirk on his face as he shakes his head in disapproval, looking back at his sister in an attempt to not give you the attention you so desperately wanted. But he couldn’t help but look back up every few minutes, watching as you took more and more of the banana into your mouth. At first he had figured it was a joke, just a harmless joke about something vaguely resembling a dick (his favorite kind of joke), but it had become clear that you were genuinely attempting to seduce him right now.

You maintained the intense eye contact, sliding the banana in and out of your mouth once before taking a bite and hiding the smile that was fighting to get out.

It was kind of amusing, but also kind of hot. Okay, maybe not the banana licking, but rather doing something dirty that you know you shouldn’t quite literally right behind his mother and sister’s back. Or maybe it was the insinuation behind the banana licking that caused the reaction happening in his pants. He couldn’t tell, all Pete knew was that he was wearing sweatpants. Loose sweatpants, at that, that would do him no favors in hiding the ever growing arousal in his pants. He casually grabs the throw pillow that had been supporting his back and shifted it into his lap, trying to continue the conversation without raising any suspicion. 

The conversation eventually ended when Amy and Casey stood up and walked to the kitchen, bringing their cups and the question of what dinner would be with them. You discarded your banana peel in the trash before taking a seat next to Pete.

You sat in silence for a moment, your head resting on his shoulder, when you placed your hand on his upper leg. He lets a breath out through his nose, knowing exactly where you’re going with this. Pete was not amused when you began rubbing slowly, determined to replace his last boner, which was now long gone, with a new one.

“You’re not jerking my dick in front of my mom and sister.” Pete says, grabbing your wrist to halt your actions

“I’m not the perv who got hard when I was trying to eat my banana.”

“Oh, please. You weren’t eating it, you were blowing it. I think I saw some cream slip out the top somewhere between you deep throating it and taking your first bite.”

“The banana I was eating or the one in your pants?” You ask, continuing to rub your hand over his hardening dick

“Seriously, they’re right in the other room we can’t.”

“I’ll stop if you fuck my hand,” You offer up, you see him hesitate as he tries to decipher whether or not you’re serious “they wont hear anything as long as you’re quiet. Plus, which would you rather, me dealing with it now and them never knowing or them walking in here and seeing you with a boner next to your girlfriend in the family room.”

“I’d rather them not walk in on my girlfriend giving me a handjob.”

“If they do you can just blame it on me,” You say, reaching into his sweats and wrapping your hand around him “after all, I am what caused it.”

He let out a breath, glancing behind him into the kitchen to make sure no suspicion had been raised before he slowly began lifting his hips into your hand. He closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to fully acknowledge the situation at hand. The situation being that he was letting you jerk him off in the family room of his shared house while his sister and mother were barely a room away.

“Uh, kinda dry.” he says, opening his eyes momentarily to look at you. You glance at his lips for a second, thinking about what you should do to solve the problem. Decisions, decisions, should you spit on your own hand or make him do it? Or should you make him spit in your mouth and then lick your hand? All good options, but you thought you’d finally find what you’d settle for.

You lean in so to Amy and Casey it would look as if you were getting a kiss, but opened your mouth as Pete grabbed your chin with his thumb and forefinger and spat in your mouth. You had to stop a sick smile from crossing your face as you bent down and began sucking him off with a mixture of his spit and yours. The whole situation was seriously heating up and anyone could tell that you were both getting impatient. You could still taste his cock in your mouth as you came back up, glancing into the kitchen.

“You’re fucking sick.” He whispers

“Achoo.” you say, clearly pleased with yourself.

You realized that to get the length of his dick through your hand he had to buck his hips up off the couch, so you decided to help him by stroking along with his thrusts. You really hoped there was nothing on your face that would give away what was happening, although you could feel the warmth on your cheeks which meant you were definitely blushing. It’s okay, you told yourself, blushing can mean a lot of things. Just as long as they stay over there everything will be fine.

Your head flicked over to the kitchen as you overheard them talking about what to have.

“We could just get out?” Amy offers up

“Yeah, if everyone else wants to.” Casey responds

“I’m okay with it, what do you guys think?” Amy inquires from her place in the kitchen.

“Yeah, that sounds good to me. Maybe applebees?” you agree, speeding up your actions and focusing on his tip, A small moan slipping past his lips as you do. Pete’s mouth hung open, his breathing heavy and his hips bucking forward into your hand. You couldn’t believe the sight in front of you, it was seriously something straight out of a porno and it was so, so hot. 

“Hm? You want something else, baby?” You ask, tone as innocent as ever “What would you like?” Pete turns his head to glare at you, trying his best to muster up a response.

“No, that's fine.” He finally manages to get out, his voice clearly straining.

“You feel alright,hun?” Amy asks, concern lacing her voice. For a moment you were worried she would walk over to check on him, but Pete in a moment of genius quickly wrote it off as a stomach ache. Good thing, too, because you could tell Pete was getting close. His hand gripped at the couch and his jaw clenched as he struggled to keep it together. You felt his dick twitch in your hand as it occured to you that you had nowhere for him to cum. You tried to think quickly about what to do. I mean you couldn’t very well just sit on it, but his sister and mom were looking at you now and would notice if your head dipped down so you couldn’t swallow it either. Try as you might, it was a time sensitive option and the clock was running out, so you pulled his underwear up over his dick and continued stroking him. He finally exploded, his orgasm soaking into his underwear,  Pete struggling to disguise his moan as him clearing his throat.

“Actually guys, maybe we shouldn’t go out. I think Pete might be coming down with something.” You say

[just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi]

Found - Rudy, Mason, and Clyde

The end! Of the arc! Whooo this has been fun! Thanks to all who read. (i'm not down with them as oc's but this arc is over.)

TW: whumper as caretaker, stressed whumper/caretaker, distant whumper/caretaker, drugging tw, implied changing of clothes, implied bathing,

[Masterlist] [Stalker Arc Tag]

Mason was sitting at his desk, vigorously typing an email to the support of every social media platform he could. They weren’t giving him anything, even though he knew that they had the information. They must - companies are always doing shit like that. Tracking. Monitoring. They knew who this creep was and they were protecting them.

At this point, he was ready to get his lawyer involved if he got yet another generic-reply email.

Clyde was curled under his desk. He hadn’t done that in years, not since he was new and very attached to his new Master. Mason trained it out of him a while ago, but something about the familiar place was safe for him right now. So, Mason allowed it.

His phone rang and he reached for it automatically. There had been a lot of calls over the last couple days, and he was nearly fed up with them.

“Hello?”

“Hello, is this Mason Driver?”

He took a deep breath and massaged the bridge of his nose. “It is, who is speaking?”

“Hi this is Amber from the Lakefield Pet Shelter? We have your pet here-”

Mason stood quickly, accidentally kicking Clyde in the process. “Ah, fuck, sorry bud. Is he okay? Who brought him in? Is he hurt? Where is Lakefield I want to come pick him up-”

“Sir, sir, please slow down. He’s okay, he’s got a sprained ankle and is a little roughed up in general, but he’s okay. You can come pick him up at any time, someone from the local department already came and spoke to him.”

A strange sense of anger swelled in him for a moment that someone questioned his pet without him there, but he shoved it away quickly. Other things to focus on, other things he had to do. The woman was still talking but Mason was distracted looking for his keys.

“Can I pick him up tonight? Now?”

There was a small pause. “Yes, Mr. Driver, you can come get him tonight.” After a couple other bits of information, Mason left the house to go get his pet.

Clyde crawled out from under the desk, rubbing his sore hand, a bit confused but hopeful he was understanding half the conversation correctly.

~~

The first thing Mason felt when he saw Rudy hobble out to meet him was relief. Relief that he was back, he was safe, that he was here. Then it was anger. Anger and resentment at the brace around the boy’s ankle, the wraps around his wrists and neck, the bandaids on his face. He had to force his face to remain happy and neutral when he saw the bruise on Rudy’s temple.

“Master!” he cried, nearly falling into the kneeling man’s arms. Mason held him close, arms wrapped around.

“Rudy, thank fucking god you’re okay. I was so worried, oh my god. When I find out who took you I’m gonna-”

“Y-you, you know him, Master,” came Rudy’s muffled voice and Mason pulled him away, held tight by his shoulders.

“What?! Who, who the hell would do that? Someone that I know?”

“It was C-Casey, Master.”

Mason’s face grew grave, clenching his teeth. He should have fucking known. Of course, of fucking course Casey would pull some shit like this. Obviously Mason had called out of work, didn’t care what was going on back at the office during the few days Rudy was gone.

Rudy whimpered and Mason released his right grip. “Oh, I’m sorry Sweetheart. God, that fucking snake. I’m going to ruin his whole goddamn life, just wait and see if I don’t completely blacklist him. He’ll never fucking work with pets again.”

“Sir,” hinted one of the workers, reminding Mason of the other people in the lobby. He didn’t care.

“Come on, let's get you out of here.”

The worker nodded and gestured for them to come up to the counter. “He’s ready to go, just need to go over some paperwork and at home care for the other injuries.”

Rudy pressed himself into Mason side as the man’s brow furrowed. “Other injuries? What happened?”

“He’s a little bit dehydrated, but that should go away in a day or two. The bandages around his wrists and neck are to keep him at scratching at the healing skin, so you’ll need to keep those and on use this ointment that’s listed here. Same for the welts on his back. His ankle is sprained but not too badly, so follow up with your regular provider for that. Other than that, you’re good to go.”

Mason swallowed and signed the forms without another word, not trusting himself to say something he’d regret. Besides, it wasn’t their fault.

On the way out, he was already calling his lawyer to get every medical expense taken out of Casey - money or blood.

~~

Clyde was at the door, bouncing at his heels as the key turned. He had been looking out the window, saw when they pulled up. Saw when Rudy got out of the car! He was limping but he was there. He was home.

The older pet nearly knocked him over as they came through the door. Mason had to grab him by the back of his collar to drag him off.

“Clyde! Back! You know better what the hell,” Mason muttered, setting him down on the ground a foot or two away. Clyde looked up at him, clearly wanting to go back to Rudy. Mason rubbed his temples, too tired and frustrated and betrayed to deal with this.

“Room.”

Both boys whimpered, Rudy tugging on the hem of Mason’s shirt to silently plead him not to. “Now, Clyde. He’s fine. Just go upstairs so you’re not underfoot.”

Clyde gave him such wide, hurt, miserable eyes that Mason nearly took it all back. He sighed, but held firm. He said what he said and Clyde needed to obey that. With another glance back at his friend. Clyde crept up the stairs. Rudy whined after him over Mason's shoulder as the man picked him up and carried him to the living room to set him on the couch.

The boy whimpered as Mason walked away, but quieted after a shush.

Mason stood in the kitchen, holding onto the counter and stared at the tile backsplash. Why was this so hard? Rudy was back, he was going to be fine, the police found Casey and his lawyer said his case was good over the phone. He shouldn’t feel so tense, so tight-wound and anxious. The boy was right out there - why couldn’t Mason accept it?

He rubbed a hand across his short stubble and grabbed a water bottle from the fridge, along with a drink for Rudy. He just needed time, he guessed. Needed to sleep, and probably eat something, and he’d calm down. Meandering back into the living room, he texted his boss that he was taking some personal time off.

Rudy was curled up on against the armrest, tears bright in his eyes. Mason regretted snapping at him, at both of them, but it would pass. They probably wouldn’t even remember tomorrow.

“Hey bud, drink up. How are you feeling, are you hurting?” He asked as he opened the lid for him.

The boy grabbed the bottle and took a sip, nodding slowly. “I, I’m okay.” His lip was quivering, breath shallow and shaky.

“I missed you,” he confessed as he broke, reaching up for Mason who immediately sat down with him. “I m-missed you s-so much, and Clyde, and h-home, I wanted to get away. I was so scared and c-confused and he was mean and hurt me and-”

Mason shushed him gently, pulling him close and petting his hair. “I know, I know Sweetheart. I’m so sorry that happened - I promise, it will never happen again.”

“He wrote on m-my, my scan-y thing,” Rudy said, itching at the side of his shirt. “And, and he took my collar and made me wear a muzzle that cut my mouth and I didn’t eat because- because I just couldn’t and-”

Mason shushed him again, and this time took his drink so he could really lay the boy down. Poor thing was spiraling, clearly over-stressed and exhausted too. “Shh, Rudy, you need to relax. You’re okay.”

“-he, he made me so confused, Master,” Rudy continued, seemingly unable to stop confessing everything that had happened. “I-I know I belonged to you, because, because of m-my collar and my chip but he made me wear his collar and I started to get confused and forget and uh, hng, I, I think I might have called him Master once and I’m sorry! He wasn’t always bad and one time he pet my hair and I tried to struggle but I didn’t that time and I’m sorry.”

“Okay, okay woah bud you need to slow down. You’re okay, you don’t have to talk about all this right now. I know, I know.” A pause as Mason thought. “Do I need to get something to calm you down?”

“I think I was bad?” Rudy started again, rubbing his eyes and hiccuping. He wasn’t listening to what Mason was saying, which was a kind of answer in itself. He was just more convinced of his choice as when he stood, the boy kept muttering confessions to himself. He’d have to re-visit some training in the next couple days, he reconned, just to correct some thoughts that asshole had implanted.

Rudy took the pill unusually well, words petering out until he was quiet. Mason rubbed his head just the way he knew the boy loved, listening to the unconscious hums of contentment.

“Lets get you to bed early tonight, hm? We’ll deal with all this in the morning.”

He seemed much heavier, now that he was out of it. Mason still got him upstairs, sat him on the bathroom counter to clean him up a little. It also gave him a better chance to see Rudy’s injuries without the boy wiggling and squirming everywhere.

It made his blood boil.

He had seen worse, he had definitely seen worse just walking down the street but that didn’t fucking matter. Rudy was his, and he had not given permission for someone to treat his pet like this. The muzzle had clearly been too tight, chafing and rubbing the sides of his face raw. Same for the collar, and the scratch marks from where Rudy had been clearly trying to get it off. Bruises on his hands and knees, what seemed like a bit of blood in his hair.

Mason cleaned him up the best he could, until the only proof left visible were the bandages and bandaids. He changed those, too, to some colorful ones he had for the boys. Rudy would like those better when he was awake.

After changing him into his pajamas, Mason carried him to his own bedroom and put him on the bed. He sighed and went to go get Clyde.

Clyde was in his room, standing in his pajamas right by the door. The boy had obviously been crying, gently cradling his bruised hand. Mason picked it up carefully, examining it.

“Shit, did I do that, Bugs?” he said, convicted. Clyde didn’t really answer him, eyes glancing from him to the door repeatedly. Mason sighed with a tired smile.

“Yeah, go see him.”

In a flash the boy was gone, down the hall to be with his friend. Mason turned the light off in their room before he went to join them.

Finally, back together. As they should be.

~

tag: @whumpingredroses @as-a-matter-of-whump @albino-whumpee @whumpeesblog @suspicious-whumping-egg

[debbierhea]

and the world around us shatters / better call saul / wc: 2392  / kimmy jimmy omaha cinnabon reunion / special thanks to @kimberly-wexler for the beta <3

Summary: 

She’d been searching. For years.

She’d been searching. For years. Hired a PI and then another. Scoured every database she had credentialed access to and then a few she didn’t. Even adopted a cat to soothe the loneliness, lull the throbbing emptiness she felt in her chest. She’d had one as a girl once, a stray really, whom she loved. But this cat was as sulky and capricious as she had become and no matter how committed she was to ignoring it, the ulterior motive of pet adoption was glaring, if not to anyone else, to her.

After three months of No. Not like this. You can’t. Leave it alone. Don’t get involved, the ill-tempered tabby was Kim’s foot in the door. It was a Thursday when she sat across from his veterinarian, cat on the exam table, and said, “I need your help.”

“What kind of help are we talking?” He eyed her, stroked the tabby between her ears.

“I’m looking for someone.” Silence followed.

“You’re gonna have to give me a little more than that.”

“You know him. Jimmy McGill.”

His eyebrows rose. More silence.

“Well, can you help me or not?”

“You know it’s not always a matter of can I help.”

Kim tilted her chin, raised her eyes to meet his, unflinching. “Does that mean you won’t help me?”

“Hm?” The cat was purring into his hand, licking his thumb. “Oh, no. Just that my price may be something you’re unwilling to pay.”

She swallowed. “That’s not possible.”

“Okay then,” he nodded, stuck out his hand. She shook it.

Now, she was wandering through a sea of midwesterners in puffy coats and mittens, dusting snow off their shoulders, chattering about the weather. She hasn’t been back to this part of the country in years and it oddly feels like a homecoming, though she stopped considering Nebraska home the moment she left. It was simply a place she had lived, never one that offered family or comfort or love. There were sparse memories of joy with the odd classmate and a fond recollection of the first grade teacher who encouraged her to read, helped her get her very own library card. But now as then, there never existed a sense of ease or belonging for her. Even so, the familiarity of the Casey’s General Store on the corner, the Runzas on menus across state rest stops, the flurries of snow reddening her nose and chilling her bones, fostered a small flame of hope deep inside. She could still recognize, even find comfort in, a place she so detested. After the passage of so many years, this place was still the same and, underneath the new high rises and parking meters and sushi restaurants, she could see the bones of this city. Maybe the same could hold true for other things in her life.

Looking over the map in the lobby, she cupped her hands before her mouth and blew into them. The chill rested deep inside her, the hope she fostered in her heart doing little to warm her weary bones. All her work was to lead to this: trudging up the tiled stairs in damp snow boots surrounded by people who knew nothing about pain, not really. Not pain like hers.

She smelled it before she saw it, curving with the second floor walkway past storefront after storefront of clothes and books and knick knacks. She had just side-stepped the man trying to give free lotion samples when the warmth of cinnamon and sugar wafted over her. Her footsteps stuttered and her gait slowed. It was like watching a car whose engine was stalling out. She was light-headed, unable to string a thought together, parse out what she was feeling in her body besides a deep urge to run. Her therapist would tell her that she wanted to run because of her fear of being vulnerable and then being left behind. Again. Kim pushed hair that had fallen loose of her ponytail behind her ear, took three deep breaths, and followed her nose.

A small line stood in front of the cash register, three or four people, waiting for a treat to get them through their holiday shopping. She contemplated her next step from across the food court. Anticipation fluttered through her, givinggave rise to goosebumps beneath her layers of knit and down. Then further, deeper, beneath the adrenaline, lived something twisting and gnawing inside of her chest. She knew this thing like she knew the location of every security camera at the Hinky Dinky or the route she took home after school when her mom got too lost in the liquor aisle to remember to pick her up. This thing she knew was fear—fear of hope, of the inevitable ache of a further bruised heart. She crossed the food court despite it.

Trying to slip back into her midwestern skin, move through this world unassuming and deferential, she stood to the right of the registers, observing the ebb and flow of workers behind the glass. Dough was being kneaded by one, another opened an oven to check the progress of the bake. A third manned the register. A second till was sat unused, cash drawer open and empty. She stood there, just outside the current of customers, twitching her chapped fingers, tapping them against the inside of her own palm. He used to tease her for it. Five minutes passed, then ten. The line grew longer. Her flame of hope was waning.

Then, a voice—a bellow, more like—broke through the low hum of conversation in the food court.

“Coming! I’m coming, Miranda!” Kim froze.

A man in an apron and mustache came through the door marked “Employees Only” and made his way to the front of the store, a full cash drawer in his hands.

“Sorry! For some reason the safe just wouldn’t open.”

Kim was drifting through the crowd, pulled toward his voice. Her eyes began to burn.

“Here are some quarters for you. I figured you might be running low.” His eyes flicked up, scanning the crowd, estimating how many rolls they should throw into the oven. “I’ll open this one up and—,” his roaming gaze stopped. “And I, uh....”

She swallowed, her throat tight, eyes glassy. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. He stood, slack jawed, staring.

“Um, Miranda I—Just, uh, just take this,” he handed the cash drawer to the teenager standing next to him, eyes never leaving Kim’s. “I’ll be right back.”

His shoes squeaked as he made his way around the counter and out into the seating area of the restaurant. Kim hadn’t moved, stunned like a deer in headlights on a Nebraska back road. He seemed as though he was moving in slow motion, each step towards her an eternity, and yet it was still not long enough to prepare herself for him to be standing directly in front of her. She felt like she’d just fallen through the ice into a glacial lake. No, she hadn’t fallen. She’d jumped. On purpose. And broke through.

He stood there, inches from her; she could see the gray in his mustache. He paused, just for a moment, then said, “Follow me.”

And she did.

They weaved in and out of tables and shoppers and janitors picking up fast food wrappers off the floor. He glanced back at her once, as if he was scared she wouldn’t be there behind him, as if she hadn’t been following him, chasing him, for what felt like her whole life. He led them down a hallway, empty save for a woman waiting on a bench between two bathroom doors, one labeled with a dress, the other a tie. Kim gave her a close-mouthed smile.

Jimmy stopped abruptly, reaching for the door to the family restroom. He held it open, looked into her eyes. Kim gave the woman another glance, cheeks reddening, and walked through the door before she could think or feel or do anything that would make her stop herself. She moved towards the far, tiled wall and as she turned, heard the clicking of the door’s latch, then the lock.

He paused then, there, gripping the door handle, his head resting against its grain. His body was tense, coiled and bound and, she realized, foreign to her. Stooped shoulders, billowing polo, slight waist cinched by an apron. Even from behind, he looked bleary, posture like a drooping flower on the sill. What happened to him?

Kim was grateful for this pause he was granting her. Everything seemed to be moving at a pace she was incapable of matching, an emotional marathon she had not trained for; she never did have much emotional stamina outside of simply holding them all in, like a child holding their breath in the deep end of the pool.

Then, he turned.

He was just as unfamiliar from the front as he was from behind, cheeks a bit sallow and stippled with five o’clock shadow, wiry glasses. His nametag read “Gene.” But Jimmy McGill was still the same in his bones and in the time it takes to exhale that breath you’ve been holding under the gentle waves of your childhood pool, the split second it takes for that breath to form a spray of bubbles racing you to the surface, they were in each other’s arms.

Centered on the yellowing, speckled tile, they grasped at shoulders and elbows, knees knocked, tears fell. Finally, Kim slipped her arms around his ribs and clutched him to her chest, nails digging into cotton and, beneath, soft skin. His face caught between shoulder and neck, he inhaled the scent of her, goosebumps rising as her puffy, down sleeves brushed against his bare arms. His hands roamed her back, skidding and sliding across slick fabric. It felt as if his hands had been frozen and he had finally found the fire he’s sought to warm them. Sneaking his right hand up and up and under the thick wool of her scarf, he hesitated just a moment before placing his fingertips to the soft skin of her neck. She gasped, a sob drawn out on a breath. His left hand pushed into the small of her back. She pulled him in tighter.

They held each other there, flushed and desperate and weepy, for a time—how long, neither could say. As the hand rubbing her back would slow, she would squeeze his middle gently as if to say Not yet and he would answer with gentle pressure between her shoulder blades. When her grip on him would loosen, his fingers would drift into the hairs at the base of her neck, pulling her impossibly closer, and she would let him. This is how they stayed, questioning and answering each other as only they could with little more than a sigh passing through their lips.

Then, Kim began to pull gently away. He stiffened the moment he sensed her movement from him, but she did not try to leave his embrace, this wasn’t her intention, not truly. She only wanted to see his dear face, maybe say hello. Placing one hand on his chest, she leaned ever so slightly back as his arms moved to circle her waist. Tears clung to his lashes and dripped from the tip of his nose. He swallowed hard as her eyes roamed his face, different but somehow entirely the same. She felt like she was back in the HHM parking garage bumming a smoke from the new guy in the mailroom. Hundreds of days and miles from then, he was still hers.

Bringing both hands up, cupping his jaw, brushing his cheekbones with the pads of her thumbs, she smiled. “Jimmy.”

At this, his eyes closed, Kim holding him tenderly in her palms. He hasn’t heard that name in years. When was the last time he thought of himself as anyone other than Saul Goodman? Saul the criminal defense attorney. Saul on the run. Saul posing as a Cinnabon manager. More tears fell free.

Removing his hands from her waist, he held her delicate wrists, one in each hand, his thumbs mimicking her caress across his skin. She gave the slightest tilt of her head and he answered with a reed-thin voice, a sad smile, “It’s you.”

She knitted her perfectly arched brows, that tell-tale wrinkle emerging between them, her eyes soft and wet, red-rimmed. She bit her lip and began to shake her head, never removing her gaze from his. After a moment, she smiled again, smaller this time, lips closed, and slipped one hand smoothly into his, the other onto his shoulder, not willing to break contact.

“Sorry it took me so long.”

More tears welled in Jimmy’s eyes as he rolled them to the ceiling, heart aching.

“Kim…I…”

“I know.” A pause. He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Baby, I know.”

From shoulder back to his neck, Kim guided Jimmy with her hand, resting his forehead against her own, meeting in the middle, holding him there.

“Oh god—” a sob broke from deep in his chest.

Kim stroked his neck, shoulder, face, back. Jimmy wept.

Tears darkened the collar of his polo shirt and the tremors running through his body prompted Kim to wrap herself around him once more, burying her nose in his neck, focusing on the sickly-sweet scent of yeasted dough rising, cinnamon, and icing sugar over the pain so fierce living in the main between her arms.

As all things do with time, his sobs became weaker and fewer, until his breathing returned to a shallow, exhausted inhale, sniffly exhale. Kim lifted him from her shoulder and he raised his eyes towards hers. Her lips twitched, and then she brought them to his cheek. One, then the other, over and over, like salve to a wound she covered his drying tear tracks with her lips. Gentle and soft, like the flap of a butterfly’s wings did she kiss him. And then, she centered herself, hand threading into his hair, she moved to his lips.

“Kim,” he whispered, a breath from her lips.

“Yes?”

“What if you’ve come all this way to find someone who…doesn’t exist. Not anymore.”

Again, Kim knit her brows and shook her head. She placed her right hand over his heart, lifted her shoulders gently in a shrug.

“It’s you.”

[nincompoopydoo]

DEBRIS AND MISERY

CURIOUS MINDS THINK ALIKE ; PART 5 / ?

PAIRING: Loki Laufeyson x Female!Reader WORD COUNT: 3.1k SUMMARY: Through guessing games and walking on eggshells, it’s you and Loki that dance the strange choreography of two curious minds trying to figure out the other. A/N: Slow moving chapter! If any of you speak Norwegian and know that sentence is wrong, please tell me! I took a risk, not sure if it's worth it. Anyways, I promise there’s more stuff coming in the next chapters. Tell me anything about this chapter, what you love, what you hate. Enjoy xo gif from this gifset by@marvelheroes WARNINGS: Swearing? More paperwork. support my writing through ko-fi💖 MASTERPOST ; MASTERLIST

The narration of Miss Minutes accompanying the grainy animated graphics of a training video on how, why, and when a branch of a timeline is reset seems to be the source of Loki’s absentmindedness. If he is typically referred to as outrageously and mostly unnecessarily communicative, it is his mind that beats his mouth—the tumult of his thoughts is loud and overwhelming like the people who amass at taverns every evening to drink themselves silly whilst singing jolly drinking songs until the wee hours of the morning. Except, his thoughts are far from jolly. He, mastermind of language and a silver-tongue, has no words of any language to describe the complexity of his mind with accuracy.

Kraftig regn som faller i en fossende elv.

Like heavy rain falling on a cascading river. Water from the sky on water streaming through the ground—thunderous raindrops from above against the river that strikes every rock of every winding turn.

Those were the words of his mother.

Maybe, that’s how his mind should be described.

It’s the mechanical creaks of spinning wheels against the polished floor that pulls him out of his thoughts and finds that he had been staring blankly at a page of men riding jet skis of a magazine he'd nipped from the stack of junk on Mobius’ desk for the last minute or hour. A second or a day? He isn’t sure.

Time works differently at the TVA.

“Hey Casey,” he hears you chime, the cart squeaks as it pulls to a halt. “Do you have a paperweight or something I could use?”

There’s a sound of rummaging as the clerk searches the drawers. Loki restrains the urge to look.

“Uh, yeah...Here.”

“Thanks.”

Probably an infinity stone.

The clerk then wheels by, pushing the evidence cart as he casts a cautious glance his way.

Right. He did threaten to gut him like a fish earlier on although the threat was not as deadly as he intended but proved to be surprisingly effective. Yet, Casey is probably the type to be afraid of his own shadow, he would comply with any sort of threat even if it isn't death.

Pathetic. But amusing.

The training video continues to play in the background, and Miss Minutes’ stupidly charming and cheery voice is starting to sound like gibberish to him. At this rate, it’s white noise to him—attention elsewhere but somewhat listening to a certain extent. He loves multi-tasking and isn’t afraid to admit he’s great at it though it likely plays a huge factor in contributing to the uproar of his brain. It’s why he doesn’t get any sleep for most nights.

There’s just...so much to think about.

And now, it’s filled with the reminder of how you met another version of him. Somewhere. Sometime. An inferior Loki, obviously.

Suddenly, the jet ski magazine becomes less interesting, his mind fleeting.

Discreetly, he spins in his swivel chair and sees you through inked writings and diagrams on the glass partition of your cubicle. Your coat’s discarded, and you have your sleeves rolled up, looking less formal, less tense than before. Yet, still as fierce with that constant scowl of your brows. He watches you bring your fingers to scratch the left side of your cheek and notices a vague resemblance of a fading scar.

He hadn’t seen that before.

The glowing orange hue of the soul stone sits idly on top of a stack of papers beside you.

Loki makes some sort of contemptuous noise in his mind at the sight.

The TVA is a strange place. The thought of a cosmic organization that overlooks all of the time doesn’t make it any less weird and neither do the uniforms—dull color combinations and collars that never seem to end. And the Time-Keepers, well, he isn’t sure what to make of that. Things are a little too straightforward, too simple for handling such a complex matter of the universe—Time. It doesn't make sense.

You spark his curiosity. You had a connection with him. Another Loki trusted you to a certain extent. He wonders what makes you so special, that Mobius was willing to try everything to convince you to help.

He also wonders what your name is.

The clearing of his throat comes off as a sudden and disruptive sound that resonates clearly through the somewhat silent environment of the office floor. A subtle way to gaining your attention although it's proving ineffective. You continue to flip through documents, scribbling notes on a notepad.

He wheels his chair closer to you. For a moment, he catches sight of a white mug amongst the mess. It says, 'Rocket scientist at work.' There’s no way a person as intimidating as you have that kind of mug.

He clears his throat once more.

Still nothing. It’s like he doesn't exist to you.

Then, he notes your vague attempt to fight down a growing smile.

Oh. Oh. You—

Hm.

He scooches closer and taps on the glass partition a little too aggressively.

“I know you can hear me.”

His tone comes out in a sing-song manner. Finally, your eyes turn up to meet his. They are different from when you first saw him emerged into the hallway. Less angry and shocked. Now, you just look unimpressed.

Loki somehow thinks it’s a great idea to charm his way to you.

A grin finds his way to his lips, curving widely with oozing allure.

Or so he thinks.

“Pardon me, but I believe we haven’t properly met and I didn’t catch your name earlier on.”

You don’t say anything, only blink in response.

Tough crowd.

Loki shifts in his seat.

“...What is your name?”

He articulates his words with care, and he doesn’t know why he finds it a need to tread lightly around you. Like with a touch, you will transform into a fiery beast from his childhood nightmares and eat him alive.

You and Mobius are polar opposites—personality-wise. It’s a wonder how the two of you get along.

Do you scare him? No. Definitely not.

Do you intimidate him? Perhaps. But, he will never admit it.

Maybe it’s the way you’re gazing at him with that constant, deafening deadpan look.

Then, you finally give him an answer.

“Agent.”

And with that, you're back to scribbling notes on a notepad.

Agent.

Loki scoffs silently to himself.

Well, that turned out to be completely pointless.

He turns his back to you, returning to scanning through Mobius' jet ski magazine within his grasp.

Loki doesn’t see how you’re now staring at the back of his figure, tapping your pen against the notepad absentmindedly.

Curious minds think alike.

-

You needed a change of scenery.

With all the noise of the muffling narration of the training videos from Mobius’ desk, you began to feel like you forgot how to do your job. The only job you were created for. The disturbance seems to be putting your brain into a frenzy and it’s preventing you from getting your head straight on report protocols. Trying to think of better words to describe the things you’ve seen on Sakaar that weren’t words that meant trash and didn’t end up sounding unintentionally sexual, is where you draw the line.

Times are hard for the variant turned analyst.

The archives are serene amid your solitude. Extensive tables hidden between shelves of identical-looking binders that expanded throughout the hundreds of floors of the building. The spot that overlooks the three looming statues of the Time-Keepers is your favorite. The occasional swish of a passing elevator calms your nerves from all the frustration and pressure ever since you were released from your arrest. You’re just happy to be somewhere familiar although it’s not home.

Although all distractions are gone, you manage to find new ones as you gaze at the glowing ‘357’ signage from across the building as you decide to let your thoughts run for just a little while. You feel like you’re looking through foggy glasses and your brain feels like it’s about to shut down any moment.

Dream away the pain, then.

Then, you hear a voice from afar. Two voices. It’s Mobius; you’ll recognize that quintessential Texan accent anywhere from the times he would rave about a new jet ski magazine he’d found on a mission...something along those lines.

Much to your chagrin, you also hear Loki with that irritatingly posh accent of his.

You should probably move somewhere else. Run and hide before you're being pulled even more into this mess because you know Mobius is trying to get you to spend as much time with the variant turned analyst to gain trust.

You’re still not sure how it’s helping with his case. Loki has better trust in Mobius than you as far as you’re concerned.

Before you could even gather the mess of your files, the two men you’ve been trying to escape are already by the desk you’re sitting at. You suddenly notice the stack of files on the other end of the desk, not remembering seeing the archivist putting that there.

Crap.

“Let me park ya at this desk and don’t be afraid to really lean into this work...”

You look like a deer caught in the headlights, signaling to Mobius that you really don’t want to share a desk with Loki. He continues to speak to him, ignoring your silent plea. Then, he gestures to the seat across from you.

There’s still time to leave.

Mobius addresses you with the stretch of his pointer finger.

“You, keep an eye on him. I’m gonna get a snack.”

Well, too late.

With a turn of a heel, you and Loki watch him walk away and pass neverending shelves of the archives. Once again, the two of you are left alone in the silence and the white noise of the TVA.

You meet each other's eyes at the same time, struck with the thought that you and he will probably be seeing each other a lot until the Loki variant is arrested. Plus, you’re tired of giving him the cold shoulder although you believe he deserves it.

This is a different Loki. The one who’s still power-hungry. The one who still wants to rule.

Time to start fresh.

You notice he now wears a jacket, a color somewhere between green, grey, and brown with a striking image of the TVA’s official badge above his chest. The lapels of his jacket jut out in an attempt to replicate his sense of pride and confidence.

He must have been on a trip with Mobius to the Renaissance Faire in Wisconsin, 1985. Oh, how you would kill to tag along. Everyone who knows you knows about your obsession with Earth’s music pop culture, specifically the 1980s. It explains the cassettes you have lying around. Your apartment has more of it.

Unfortunately, you're grounded. That's reality.

Thus, you decide that Loki deserves a second chance because he’s also somehow looking at you for some kind of approval. You’re starting to wonder if this is the same Loki that was tapping aggressively on your cubicle earlier on.

With an open palm, you gesture to the empty seat surrounded by stacks of binders and folders. It's the first time he has experienced some kind of acknowledgment of his presence that you weren’t ranting or screaming about. Oddly calm. Oddly inviting. Momentarily, he shifts in his stance, eyes darting between a fading figure of Mobius rounding the corner and to the seat, across from you.

The air is tense. However, still breathable.

Loki slides into the seat, legs shifting under the desk as it brushes against your by accident. You shoot him a pointed look, and he responds with a coy expression, blinking at you innocently. It’s mischievous.

Classic Loki.

You turn back to your case file, ignoring the way his gaze seems to burn holes into the side of your face for a fleeting moment before flipping a binder open from the stack to his left.

-

You snore when you sleep.

Loki wouldn’t describe it as a snore; it's more of a wheeze. Soft and subtle but it’s there, cutting through the ambiance of the archives, drifting and resonating in his ears. Through turning pages, uttering words to himself for his amusement, and having an irritating lady shush him for that, he realized how it became a lot quieter. The grazing sound of pen furiously scribbling words onto the yellow notepad has stopped.

Then, he hears it. Your pathetic snores. Your cheek is unceremoniously pressed against the back of your hand while the other holds the orange pen that’s still pinned down on the paper, mid-scrawl. The tip of the ballpoint pen sits idly, halfway through the curved stroke of the last letter of the word, ‘debris.’ He cranes his neck, face tilting in an attempt to read the chicken scratchings of your handwriting.

0132: L1190 hauls me through the time door and I miserably land on Sakaar, the planet of wastelands and debris.

You are quite...miserable. In a comical way. And he knows how much you hated your time on Sakaar—Mobius warned him of your apparent irritation in reminiscent of being stranded and then having to resume paperwork immediately. He wonders if he, too, is the reason for another boiling rage.

Apparently, you were pardoned on behalf of not only Mobius but the Time-Keepers as well.

You, an agent, are recognized by the holy and almighty Time-Keepers.

You, an agent, who sleeps with your mouth agape.

The statues of the TVA’s creators loom over him like they’re watching his every step. Every movement. Every lingering thought. Right now, he has the urge to uncover, perhaps deduce, the holes within this whole mess. In a carefully calculated and discrete movement, he reaches to prod you on the forearm. You don’t move.

He prods you again.

You still don’t move.

Now, Loki is trying to chat up the archivist who watches him through narrowed eyes, glasses framing the austere and rigid structure of her face, in favor of files that turn out to be classified.

Classified, classified, classified. Only able to gain access to his own file.

His journey from the desk proved to be useless and unproductive although the much-needed stretch somehow made it a little worthwhile.

When he returns, you're surprisingly still asleep, brow twitching and lips still parted.

Aren’t you supposed to be keeping an eye on him?

The pen you held has now left your grasp, rolled over to his stack of binders. He notices the words inscribed on it, ‘Mars is there, waiting to be reached.'

Through your fury and chaos, he knows there’s a part of you that feels, a part of you that loves. And you love everything about the Midgardians’ space program. It's shown in the way you cling to collected memorabilia.

There are dark circles that adorn your shut eyes, barely hidden under your lashes. You’re exhausted, fractured.

Loki is having a difficult time trying to suppress how he likes the way the frizz of your hair glows against the glowing table lamps from the desk behind you. You’re raw, flaws presented on a silver platter for everyone to see. Maybe, that’s the reason why you entice him the way you do.

He’s staring. Right. Back to work.

Loki returns to running through neverending case files, engrossed in the pixelated monochrome images that accompany the monospace typeface of endless reports.

Then, he sees it.

‘Destruction of Asgard’ in big, bold, and red letters. It glares at him sharply, images of his once divine home of Asgard, crumbling at the feet of Surtur. Buildings, people, engulfed in the flames of the fire demon. The prophecy of the end, Ragnarok—it was meant to be.

His home, it still was. Although an untrue Asgardian.

He knows how it ends. He knows he dies. He wishes his true self, the one on the Sacred Timeline, could have done more.

He doesn’t realize the forming tears that linger. He doesn’t realize that in the sense of premonition, you’ve awakened. He doesn’t realize that even with sleepy eyes, you notice the grief that glints in his eyes.

“Are you okay?”

With three words, you’ve struck him with those eyes that seemed all-knowing. You see through the facade he has created, sealing the true nature of what is truly a child that is afraid of his destiny and to lose all he had ever known. His mother, father, and brother. His people. You see through it all.

You know that face. You’d seen it on Sakaar when he sat at the doorstep of your makeshift home, watching the splintered moon drift through the star-lit sky. You’d seen it in yourself through the dusty reflection of the screen of the tempad.

He longs for home. He longs for family.

For a moment, Loki sees Frigga in your eyes.

Then, his world shifts, hauling him back to reality. It’s you who’s across his way, not his mother. Loki blinks, partly to get his head straight with the excuse to blink away the sting in his eye. He shifts in his seat, rolling his neck and squares his shoulders.

“Yes. I’m alright. It’s just...”

Trailing off, he clears his throat. You follow his gaze and from your spot, you catch sight of those deafening crimson letters. Maybe, it was the spur of the moment. You blame your drowsy state, but there’s a growing warmth that spreads across your chest from the pit of your stomach. It’s subtle, a spark, but evident. Before you know it, you’re uttering words that leave your lips faster than your brain could perceive.

“I’m sorry.”

You don’t know when was the last time you said those words and meant it. Loki doesn’t know when was the last time he’d ever heard those words addressed to him, spoken from the lips of a stranger. Until now.

You mean it. He sees it in the curve of your brows.

Loki swallows, nodding curtly. For the first time, he has nothing to say. And as quickly as the moment comes, he brushes it off and so do you. Whatever is reminiscent of a residing unknown feeling, bubbling within, has disappeared.

He sees your hand reach for the pen and for a while, he thinks you’re about to reach for his arm.

But no, you’re back to scrawling notes on the paper and he’s back to studying useless documents.

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to fall back into your normal antics as you find yourself chasing after Loki, who abruptly left the desk with wide eyes.

Curious minds think alike. Mostly.

TAGLIST:

@lareinedususpense

@poubxlle

@mystoragehatesme

@the-maroon-panda

[marvelmusing]

Making Time

Mobius M Mobius x Reader

Part 2

My Masterlist

“1985, huh?” You say, looking up from the briefing Mobius has just handed you.

“Yeah, maybe we’ll spot a delorian?” He jokes, making a Back to the Future reference. You smile at him, remembering when you’d first mentioned the movie. You hadn’t been at the TVA long, to your knowledge.

You’re sat in one of the cafes, explaining something about the timeline to Casey, and you make an offhand reference to the movie. To which, Casey looks even more confused. You glance at Mobius, who’s been sat next to you, watching your teaching with a smile. You offer them both a small smile, at yet another reminder that you’re from somewhere very different from the rest of them.

“Neither of you have seen it have you?” Mobius shakes his head.

“Not a lot of chances for watching movies when dealing with the timeline. Should we get the chance, I’d love to.” It’s a few days later when you give him the chance.

“Honey, I’m home.” You hear Mobius call out, which brings a smile to your face. Whilst you had your own apartment, you much preferred staying with Mobius, like you did when you first arrived at the TVA. You hear him set down a pile of papers in the kitchen, before making his way into the lounge where you’re sat waiting for him. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“What’s all this?”

“Back to the Future. I went through my file, and managed to find a version that I watched that was uninterrupted. Then I isolated it, and copied it onto one of those cassette reel things, so that it’ll play on your mini projector.” You pause, before adding, “I probably put too much effort into this but, I thought we could have what my time considers a movie night?”

“A movie night?” Your face falls slightly, feeling embarrassed by your suggestion.

“We don’t have to-“ you start. He shrugs off his jacket and settles down next to you.

“Did I not tell you I wanted to watch it, should I get the chance?”

“Well, yeah.” He gestures to the projector.

“Let’s get this show on a roll.” You grin at him, before quickly pressing play on the projector. Mobius leans an arm on the couch and pulls you to his side. “You finally have clearance to access to your file, and you use it to watch Back to the Future?”

“What else was I supposed to do with it?” You joke.

You and Mobius head to the cubicle where you left Loki this morning. You spot him wapping against the desk with a magazine.

“Training going well?” You ask him. He leans back in his chair, attempting to look casual.

“Yeah.”

“Is that my jet ski magazine?” Mobius asks him. “Put it down. Gear up. There's been an attack. Let's go.” He hands Loki the jacket he’s been carrying. You set the briefing down on the desk, and follow Mobius. Loki trails behind you. “Put it on.” Loki shrugs the jacket on, adjusting the collar before posing.

“Nice.” You tell him with a smile.

“Good. Yeah, smart.” Mobius says distractedly. You soon reach the Timedoors, where a small group of hunters have gathered to wait. B-15 opens up the briefing.

“C-20 and her team went dark shortly after they jumped into the 1985 branch. All signs point to another ambush. We've grabbed enough temporal aura to know it's our Loki Variant. But which kind of Loki, remains unknown.”

“They're the lesser kind, to be clear.” Loki specifies. B-15 sighs,

“Let me see the back of that jacket.” Loki does a small turn, showing the group the back of his jacket, where the bright orange letters reading VARIANT stand out. Everyone is the group shares a small smile. You’re glad you don’t have to wear one of those anymore.

“Very subtle. Well done.”

“I don't want anybody out there to forget what you are.”

“Oh, your only hope of capturing a murderer?”

“No. A cosmic mistake.”

“That's enough.” Mobius interrupts.

“Lovely.” You hear Loki murmur.

“Here's the deal.” Mobius begins. “When we get out on the branch, we're not just looking for a Time Criminal. We're looking for a Loki. A variation of this guy. A type we should all be very familiar with, because the TVA has pruned a lotta these guys, almost more than any other Variant.” He skims through a few of the Loki Variants that the TVA have caught before. “And no two are alike. Slight differences in appearances, or not so slight. Different powers, although, powers generally include: shapeshifting, illusion projection, and my favourite-”

“Duplication casting.” Loki interrupts

“Illusion projection.”

“No, they're two completely different powers.”

“How?” You ask him.

“Illusion-projection involves depicting a detailed image from outside oneself, which is perceptible in the external world, whereas duplication-casting entails recreating an exact facsimile of one's own body in its present circumstance, which acts as a true holographic mirror of its molecular structure. But you already knew that.” He explains. You catch a glimpse of Mobius’s smirk before he says,

“Okay, take a breath. Noted. We're gonna break into two teams, including myself and Professor Loki.”

“Why?” A hunter stood beside you asks.

“Because whoever this Variant is, we haven't been able to find him. So let's bring in an expert.” Loki looks around at the group before adding a quiet,

“That's me.”

As the hunters prepare themselves, you hear Loki ask, “Do I get a weapon?” You laugh lightly,

“No chance.”

“Well, I'll have my magic back. Is no one concerned about that?”

“Of what?” Mobius asks.

“Me betraying you.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“You know that we’ll just catch you again.” You tell him.

“And how's betraying us gonna get you any closer to the Time-Keepers?” Mobius adds. Loki leans forward, his attention fixed on Mobius.

“An audience with the Time-Keepers is on the table?”

“Keep that focus.” Mobius tells him. The three of you follow the hunters through the Timedoor, and out into 1985 Wisconsin. Your group makes their way through the crowd of the Renaissance fair before entering a large tent. It’s dark inside, with only a few lanterns to light your path. You watch as B-15 bends down to grasp examine a helmet left abandoned on the floor.

“So he's taking hostages now?” She says, turning to Mobius.

“The Variant's never taken a hostage before.”

“Maybe he's upping his game.”

“Or he pruned her.” One of the hunters remarks, you frown at his callousness towards his colleague.

“A Loki couldn't have gotten the jump on C-20.”

“I think you underestimate, actually...” Loki begins.

“Fan out and search for her. And hurry up, we're at three units until red line.” B-15 orders. Mobius sets a hand on your arm, and the two of you head to the exit.

“Come on.” He says to Loki.

“Wait. If you leave this tent, you'll end up like them.” Mobius stops beside Loki.

“What do you see?”

“I see a scheme, and in that scheme, I see myself.” Loki begins to ramble about an old Asgardian saying.

“Two units. He is wasting our time.” B-15 interrupts.

“Okay. Come on, Loki, make a long story short.” Mobius encourages.

“We need to look for C-20.”

“That's exactly what the Variant wants you to do. It's a trap. He's waiting for you outside this tent.”

“Should I secure the reset charges?”

“No. He wants me. I'm the key to his plan. He knows that I'm stronger. And he rightly believes that together we can overthrow and rule the TVA. But that's not what I want. I have a new purpose. I'm a servant of the Sacred Timeline. And knowing what I now know about his tactics, I can deliver you the Variant, but I need assurances.” He says, looking to Mobius. You glance up at Mobius, frowning slightly. Surely he isn’t believing what Loki’s saying? His eyes catch yours and there’s a small twinkle in them. You hide your smile. Loki circles around Mobius.

“Yeah?” Mobius offers.

“Assurances that I won't be completely disintegrated the moment the job has been done.”

“Right.” Loki leans forward, before whispering,

“We'll need to speak to the Time-Keepers at once. They're in graver danger than we realized.”

“He's lying. Just playing games. There's no one out there.” Mobius calls out to the group.

“Reset the timeline.” B-15 orders.

“You had me for a second. My ears are sharp too.” He points at Loki’s chest. You follow Mobius out of the tent.

“Well that went well.” You remark, hearing Mobius sigh. He runs his hand over his face.

You’re tucking into your lunch when you spot Mobius. He picks out a drink and a salad before making his way over to you. You give him a small smile,

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

“How did it go with Renslayer?” He sighs, leaning his head back, before getting comfortable in his seat.

“Well, our Loki hasn’t been deleted yet.”

“That’s good then?” You offer. He sighs,

“Yeah. Though he’s getting more and more talkative.”

“You did say he loves to talk. Where is he now?”

“I’ve left him with the archives, hopefully he’ll be reading for the next few days. Or at least long enough for me to finish lunch.” He begins to eat his salad. Just then, Loki scampers in looking like a manic puppy.

“I found something.” Mobius shakes his head, keeping his attention on his lunch,

“No, I said don’t bother me until you've read all the files.”

“I have.”

“Every file?”

“Yes.”

“Pertaining to the Variant?”

“The answer isn't in the files, it's on the timeline. He's hiding in apocalypses.”

“Which apocalypse?” You ask.

“Any time in history? There's, like, a million of 'em.” Mobius adds.

“Ragnarok. Are you familiar?”

“Yes. The destruction of Asgard and most of its people. I'm sorry.” Loki pauses looking down.

“Yes, very sad.” He immediately perks up again. “Anyway, it got me thinking. Nexus events happen when someone does something they're not supposed to do, right?”

“Well, it's a little more complicated, but, yeah.”

“Great. And then that thing they're not supposed to do, cascades into a whole range of other things that aren't supposed to happen.”

“And so on and so forth, until eventually, a new timeline branches. Yes?”

“Chaotic alterations of a predetermined outcome.”

“Exactly. So, let's just say...” He picks up the salad bowl from in front of Mobius.

“Mm-hm. What are you doing?”

“...your salad is Asgard in this scenario.” Loki continues.

“It's not Asgard, that's my lunch.” Mobius complains, the pouting clear in his voice. You lean forward, a hand on your chin to hide the smile at Mobius’s reaction.

“It's a metaphor. Just hang in there.”

“I want that salad.”

“And I could go down to Asgard before Ragnarok causes its complete destruction and I could do anything I wanted. I could, let's say, push the Hulk off the Rainbow Bridge.” He picks up a salt shaker and puts a large sprinkling of salt across Mobius’s salad.

“There he goes.” You say, feeling rather invested in this metaphor.

“The salt's Hulk?” Mobius asks, clearly not as enthusiastic as you.

“And I could also... Set fire to the palace.” He picks up a pepper pot and shakes the pepper across the salad.

“No, just stop. Don't set fire to the palace.”

“Okay? I can do whatever I want to do, and it would never matter. It wouldn't go against the dictates of the timeline because...” He sets down the shakers after nearly emptying them both. He heads to the table behind you. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, God!” Mobius sighs.

“You!” Recognising the voice you look up to see Casey looking very confused.

“Nice to see you. I just need this for a second. Thanks.” Loki picks up Casey’s carton of juice, before sitting back down at your table. “Because the apocalypse is coming. Ragnarok, Surtur will destroy Asgard no matter what I do.”

“No, don't do...” Mobius sighs as Loki empties the carton over the remains of the salad.

“There's the apocalypse.” You say with a sigh, offering Mobius your bag of chips.

“That's the apocalypse?” He asks, taking a handful of chips from you with a smile.

“Ragnarok obliterates the salt. Ragnarok. There it is.” Loki gestures to the ruined salad with a proud smile.

“What am I lookin' at?”

“Okay, it was a clumsy metaphor. But you see what I mean. It doesn't matter. It could be any apocalypse. It could be a tidal wave. It could be a meteor. It could be a volcano, a supernova. If everything and everyone around you is destined for imminent destruction, then nothing that I say or do will matter, because the timeline's not gonna branch. Hence, the Variant could be hiding in the apocalypse and do whatever he wants, and we wouldn't know!”

“Not bad.” You offer.

“Take me to a real apocalypse, to Ragnarok, I'll show you.” Mobius chuckles,

“Yeah. So you can run away back to your homeland? No.”

“No, I'm not going home. We can go anywhere.”

“I'm not taking you for a stroll along the promenade, much less an apocalypse.”

“Oh, Mobius, come on! What could possibly go wrong? We gotta properly test this theory.”

“Well, here's a fun theory. You lure me out into the field, and stab me in the back. And that's a theory I don't wanna test.”

“I'd never stab anyone in the back. That's such a boring form of betrayal.” He most definitely would stab someone in the back.

“Loki, I've studied almost every moment of your entire life. You've literally stabbed people in the back, like 50 times.”

“Well, I'd never do it again, because it got old.” You both laugh at this. Mobius looks at you, and you shrug.

“Might as well try it?” You offer. Mobius nods,

“Okay.”

“Okay, look, you don't trust me, you can trust one thing. I love to be right.” Loki adds. That certainly isn’t a lie.

Tagslist: @n0obmaster69 @mackycat11 @wibblywobblyjeremybearimy @boriqs @morganwilliams @greeneyedblondie44

If you’d like to be tagged just ask!!

[atlafan]

Burning Love - Part Two

a/n: here’s part two! The dang gif I’ve been using didn’t feel like showing up, but the yoga one actually works for this part, enjoy! Feedback and reblogs are helpful! Support me here if you’re able! (not proofread)

Warnings: cocky!Harry flirting, a whole mess of angst, mentions of blood, fluff, and smut!

Words: 5K

Pairing: Harry x OC (kindergarten teacher Danielle Robinson)

Masterpost

After his date with Danielle, Harry went out to grab a couple of drinks with his friends. This resulted in him going home with one of his usual hookups. He never claimed to be a saint. Shauna was a lovely woman, and usually down to fuck when Harry wanted it. She just happened to be at the same bar as him, and he wanted to make sure she got home alright.

He didn’t kiss her, though, at least not on the lips. He didn’t want to taint the nice kiss he had with Danielle. Harry was just looking to get off, and he didn’t feel like using his own hand tonight. Shauna was going to town, bouncing up and down on his dick, letting out sweet moans. Usually Harry would put a little more effort in, but he was almost disappointed. He’d rather be fucking Danielle. Well, he’d rather be having a nice conversation to her that would perhaps lead to some hot love making because he felt like that’s what she deserved, but still…Shauna just wasn’t doing it for him.

“Is it good for you?” She pants.

“Hm, yeah, keep going, I’m almost there.” He thrusts up into her and her head rolls back. She reaches to rub her own clit, and he spills into the condom. Once they’re both cleaned up, he gets dressed and sighs heavily. “Hey, uh, I don’t wanna be an ass or anything, but I think this is the last time I can do this with you.”

“Oh…um…can I ask why? Did I do something you didn’t like?”

“No, no, you were great.” He gives her hand a squeeze. “It’s just…I met someone, and I’d like to see where things go with her. I wouldn’t feel right if we kept doing this.”

“I get it.” Shauna swallows. “Well, thanks for letting me know.” She sighs.

“Thanks for understanding.” He pecks her cheek. “I’ll see you around.”

As Harry was driving home, he actually couldn’t believe that he fucked someone after going out on a perfectly lovely date with Danielle. He felt like scum, and he was glad he broke things off with Shauna. Harry could be classified as a kind playboy. He fucked, but he wasn’t in the business of breaking hearts. And maybe when he first met Danielle, he would have liked to just take her into her classroom closet and fuck her, but the more he saw of her over the week, he felt a fondness for her start to grow. He’s never really been a one-woman kind of guy, but there was something special about Danielle that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. If he were to ever settle down with someone, he would want to do it with a woman like her. So, he knew he needed to cut the shit, and cut off anyone else he didn’t want to potentially get serious with.

//

On Monday, between her groups, Danielle was just about to dive into her tuna pita pocket when she heard a knock on her door. She sighs and stands up, wondering who it could possibly be. When she opens the door her mouth falls open when she sees Harry.

“H-Harry, hi.”

“Hi.” He smiles. “Thought I’d pop in since I know this is when you’re usually having lunch. Is that alright?”

“Yeah, come in.” She steps aside and closes the door once he makes his way in. “Did you have a nice rest of your weekend?”

“I did, thanks.” He nods and then smirks when he sees her lunch on her desk. “I interrupted your lunch.”

“I was just about to eat, so you weren’t really interrupting anything.” She walks over to him. “This is a nice surprise.”

“Good, I’m glad you think so.” He wraps his arms around her and pulls her close to him, eliciting a surprised gasp from her.

She presses her hands to his chest as he kisses her. She lets him nibble and suck on her bottom lip again. She opens up a bit to get some air, and he takes this as an opportunity to lick into her mouth. He swirls his tongue around hers, and then goes back to biting her bottom lip before letting her go. She looks at him absolutely stunning.

“Um.” She takes a piece of gum out of her mouth. “I wasn’t chewing this before.”

“S’mine, sorry.” He opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue, and she places the gum back onto it. “Thanks.” He smiles. “Well, I’ll see you later.” He starts to walk away, but she grabs his wrist.

“Wait, is that all you came here for?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” She furrows her brows at that. “Was thinking about how nice it was kissing you the other night, and I really wanted to kiss you again, so I came here.” He reaches to tuck some hair behind her ear. “Is that okay?”

“Well…you could have texted me first. What if I had already started to eat my tuna? I would have been mortified.”

“Then I would have just let you keep my gum in your mouth.” He shrugs. “No big deal, love. Oh, I was also wondering how you’d feel if I came to one of your yoga classes on Friday.”

“You’d…really wanna do that?”

“Sure! I do yoga at home all the time. I meditate too, helps me unwind. I’d love to come to one of your classes, you know, help support. Then we could grab a drink or something afterwards…if you wanted.”

“Yeah! Sure, that sounds great. Um, let me give you one of my cards so you know where the studio is.” She rushes over to her purse and pulls out a card for him. “Here.”

“Thanks, so I’ll see you Friday?”

“Yeah.” She smiles. “I’m glad you came to visit.”

“Me too.” He pecks her lips and then heads out. Just once she’d like to not feel so flustered by him.  

//

On Friday, Harry came to Danielle’s second class, which was at 5:15. He sets up in the back as to not make her nervous, but he still gives her a small wave. She waves back and a few of her friends give her a surprised look. Danielle notices that he’s wearing a long a sleeve tee. What in the actual fuck was so bad about a naked mermaid?

“Good evening everyone, we’re going to get started. Are there any particular areas you’re hoping to focus on?”

“Lower back!” Someone shouts.

“Arms!” Another person shouts.

Danielle gets her playlist ready, and begins the warm up. She has everyone reach above their heads, and then bend at the waist, breathing in and out slowly. The lights in the studio were dim, and the entire environment just felt extremely calm. Harry was enjoying it already. Danielle may have said she liked listening to Harry, but Harry liked listening to her just the same. Some of the yoga moves got more intricate as time went on, but no one minded. It made the cool down all the more rewarding.

“Now, I’d like you all to lay flat on your backs, close your eyes, and just focus on your breathing.” She says calmly and watches to make sure everyone does so. She sits down cross legged on her mat and closes her own eyes. “Let everything else drift away, nothing matters right now in this space.”

After about five minutes of meditation, the class ends, and everyone starts to pack up. Two of Danielle’s friends come up to her, and they share hushed giggles about the ‘cute guy in the back’.

“Shh, he’s coming over here.” She says to them. “Hi, Harry…these are my friends, Jen and Christine.”

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you both. “Sorry if I’m stealing Danielle from your girl’s night.”

“Oh, please, steal Dani all you want.” Jen laughs. “We can survive a Friday night without her.”

“Yeah, you two kids have fun.” Christine winks at Danielle and they both scoot out.

“Dani, huh?” Harry smirks.

“Sorry, you’re not privy to that nickname yet.” She smirks back at him.

He laughs and then leans in to speak closer to her ear.

“Challenge accepted.” He whispers and then steps back, grabbing both of their gym bags. “Do you need to go home first or anything?”

“No, I don’t usually break a sweat doing this.” She chuckles. “What bar did you want to go to? I can just follow you there.”

“You pick, it’s only fair since I picked the last spot.”

“Oh, well, have you ever been to Casey’s? That’s usually one of my go to’s.”

“Yeah, that place sounds familiar. Works for me.” He smiles and they both walk out to the parking lot.

Harry follows Danielle there, and then they both head inside, grabbing a high top to sit at.

“What’s your drink tonight?” He asks her.

“I’d love a vodka-tonic with lime, if you don’t mind.”

“Coming right up.” He says, kissing her cheek before heading up to the bar.

He had left his phone on the table, facing upwards. It wasn’t Danielle’s fault that when it lit up it caught her eyes. It also wasn’t really her fault that Harry didn’t have his texted on private, so she could clearly see what it said.

Shauna: H! Hey, I know you said you were sort of seeing someone, but I miss your cock, baby. I’m not gonna beg, but please consider stopping by tonight…I’ll let you put it in my ass, know how much you like that 😉

Danielle was shocked, to say the least. Although, Harry never explicitly said he was single. And the text from this Shauna person makes it seem like he wasn’t looking to see her anymore. Was Danielle the person he was seeing? It had only been a couple of weeks, he could be seeing a few different women. He liked to do anal…Danielle wasn’t sure if she was comfortable with that. She gets the sudden urge to stand up and leave, run out the door, block Harry’s number and pretend like they never met. But before she can do that, he’s back at the table with their drinks.

“Here you are.” He smiles as he places it down on the table.

“Thanks.” She says flatly. She notices that Harry just pockets his phone without even checking the text, and she scoffs slightly to herself as she takes a sip of her drink. “Your phone lit up while you were at the bar.”

“Oh? I’ll check it later, I don’t really like being on my phone when I’m on a date.” He grins.

“That’s very nice of you, but I really think you should check your phone.” Harry furrows his brows, but takes his phone out. His eyes widen when he looks at the text from Shauna, his mouth falls open, but Danielle speaks before he can. “I just happened to see it, I wasn’t prying. However, I feel really stupid. Here I was, thinking that I met this really sweet guy who’s a little flirty, but really wants to get to know me! You really had me fooled, Harry.” She laughs and takes another sip of her drink.

“Danielle, I’m so sorry you saw that text…Shauna’s just someone I was sort of hooking up with, but the last time I saw her I basically told her I didn’t want to see her anymore because I had met someone…you.”

“That would mean you saw her after our date last weekend, right? Surely you wouldn’t have said something after our first encounter.”

“I’m not gonna lie to you, I did see her after our date, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I didn’t even enjoy it. I…I just wanted you, Danielle.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better? Less stupid?” She shakes her head. “Thanks for the drink, but I’m heading home.”

“Wait, please don’t go. You can’t get upset with me over this. If you hadn’t seen the text you wouldn’t have even known about Shauna.”

“Exactly! How many other women are you seeing? Are there other kindergarten teachers you’re trying to fuck? It’s not like my school is the only elementary school in town.”

“No, there’s no one else I’m currently seeing. I really like you, and I’d like to see where this goes.”

“Let me ask you something. If I had been the one to go to the bar, and you saw a text on my phone from some guy that said I could fuck him in the ass if I came over tonight, you’re telling me you wouldn’t be put off or upset?”

“I already told you, I don’t like playing the what if game.” Her face stays cold and stoic. “I don’t know, I’d be more surprised than anything that you were into pegging.”

“God, you can’t take anything seriously!”

“Oi, I resent that. My entire job is serious. I put my life at risk every day that I put my uniform on. I think you’re making a way bigger deal out of this than you need to. You should be happy that I told her to bugger off because I want to be with you.”

“Oh, I should?” Her eyebrows raise. She hops off the stool and grabs her purse. “I don’t like guys who don’t give a fuck about juggling multiple women, or what effects that has on those women. Shauna must still be hung up on you, or she wouldn’t have texted you, Harry. I don’t need to deal with your baggage.” She huffs.

“You’re seriously going to leave?”

“I don’t want to spend another second with you.” She spits. “You’re not who I thought you were, or who I hoped you’d be, and I’m incredibly disappointed.” She starts to walk out of the bar, and he gets up to follow her.

“Would you just hold on a second?!” He shouts over the loud music, but she doesn’t turn around to look at him. He follows her out to the parking lot, and she grabs her pepper spray. He stops shirt and puts his hands up.

“I’m not afraid to use this, alright?”

“Can you just explain to me why you’re so upset about this? I could understand if we had been seeing each other for a while, but we haven’t. Am I not allowed a bit of a buffer to tie up some loose ends?”

“Loose ends?” She makes a disgusted face. “Harry, I’m sorry, I can’t be with a womanizer.”

“I’m not! I’m very upfront with my intentions when it comes to women. I’ve never led a single one of them on. Shauna was a woman I was hooking up with a bit more regularly, sure, but when I spoke with her she said she understood. I was just as shocked as you were to see that text. I’m so sorry you saw it.”

“You haven’t been upfront with me.” She says lowly.

“What?”

“You just said that you’re upfront with the women you see.” She swallows, and lowers her pepper spray back into her purse. “You haven’t exactly spelled out your intentions with me, Harry. I mean, it’s clear you want to fuck me, but what else do you want from me, huh?” Her bottom lip starts to quiver. “I’ve been hurt badly in the past, and I’m not going to let it happen again.” A few tears trickle down her cheeks, and Harry completely deflates.

“Danielle…I…I’m so sorry.” He steps a little closer to her. “I’m really taken with you. I want to keep getting to know you, and date you, and see where it goes. I don’t want to do anything that’s going to hurt you. That’s why I cut things off with Shauna, I swear. I’m really interested in you. When we kissed for the first time in my car, I couldn’t stop thinking about it, and I couldn’t stop thinking about when I’d get to do it again.” He was pleading with her now. He had never been so desperate to keep a woman around in his life.

Danielle sighs heavily. Maybe she was blowing things out of proportion, but that text really put a bad taste in her mouth. However, it’s not like Harry knew he was going to receive that text. If he had, he wouldn’t have just left his phone out like that. He would have been guarding it. He trusted her, and that was the light bulb she needed to go off.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” He says.

“I’ll give you a pass. I suppose it’s not your fault. I just hope you let her down as nicely as you’re saying.”

“I did, I swear I did.”

“Alright.” She nods.

“Would you come back inside?”

“No, I wanna go home.” She takes her keys out. “You can follow me there.”

“Really?”

“Yes…I owe you a second chance. I overreacted.”

“Hey, uh, if that set you off, like, your feelings are valid.” He assures her.

“I can explain more at my place, come on.”

//

Once they’re both at Danielle’s apartment, she gets them both set up with a cup of decaf before they both sit on the sofa.

“A few years ago…I found out my college sweetheart was cheating on me…because I happened upon a text on his phone. It was usually glued to him, but I had come over while he was in the shower, and…it was awful. I guess I was a little triggered before, even though I didn’t have the right to be.”

“Christ, that’s terrible. I’m so sorry.” He puts his hand over hers and gives it a squeeze. “How could anyone cheat on you, you’re so sweet and bubbly…and nice.”

“That was the problem. I was too nice. He didn’t think he’d ever get caught, and he told me that he didn’t think I’d actually leave him if he did.”

“Sounds like he was taking you for granted.” His eyebrows knit together. “That can really fuck a person up.”

“I haven’t really been involved with someone seriously since.”

“So…you haven’t-“

“I’ve had a few, brief hookups…a few date nights here and there, but I haven’t…I haven’t really wanted to let anyone in.” Her lip starts to quiver again. “And then I met you, and…it just felt so good to feel wanted and I freaked out when I saw that text because I thought this was going to end before it started.” She sniffles. “I’ve spent a lot of time putting myself back together, and it’s so fucking annoying that something so stupid could make me feel so lousy. I know you’re not my ex, but it’s hard not to think that…that-“

“Hey.” He caresses her cheek. “When I choose to focus on one person, I don’t go out looking for anyone else. I know I’ve only known you a couple of weeks, but I can’t imagine how someone could think they needed anyone else when they were lucky enough to have you.”

All of her features soften, and her suddenly frozen heart thaws for him once again. She tugs on the collar of her his shirt and crashes her mouth to his. For once, she’s the one to bite his bottom lip, and he hums appreciatively. Both of his hands cup her cheeks as the kiss deepens, their tongues molding together. She whimpers and moans into his mouth, he was such a good kisser.

“M’sick of being in these yoga clothes.” She breathes as he starts to kiss on her neck. She grips his hair and cranes her neck so he has access to more. “Do you wanna take a shower with me?”

“Are you serious?” He says as he pulls away to look at her.

“Yeah.” She nods and kisses him again. He quickly scoops her up, and throws her over his shoulder. “Harry!” She squeals.

“Which way to your bathroom?”

“Down the hall, through my bedroom.”

Harry finds his way through her apartment, and gets them both into the bathroom. He sets her down so she can start the water. In the meantime, he peels off his shirt, and lets it drop to the floor. Her eyes don’t know where to focus on first. He had so many tattoos.

“God, you’re so beautiful.” She says, and wraps her arms around his neck.  His hands travel down to pull at the hem of her shirt, and he lifts it off, revealing her sports bra.

“So are you. Can I take this off?” He tugs at the straps of the bra.

“I’m certainly not planning on showering in it.”

He helps her take it off and his hands immediately move to cup her breasts. They sat a little lower on her frame, and were even larger than he anticipated, but they were hers so he liked them, a lot. He kisses down the column of her throat and down to her chest.

“The water’s probably warm enough now.” She grunts. “Need to get the rest of these clothes off.”

“Couldn’t agree with you more.”

They step back from each other so they can both take their pants off. Both of their eyes drift down for a split second before their bodies collide once more. They nearly trip as they get into the shower and under the warm water. Harry presses her against the wall as his tongue drags along her jaw and to her neck. Her head rolls back as her mouth falls open. He sucks a bruise into the crook of her neck and the gasp she makes fuels him to suck harder.

“Fuck.” She groans.

Harry licks his way down her chest, cupping her breasts so her can suck on one of her nipples. Her hands rake through his hair. He blindly reaches for her shower head and snatches it as he stands up straight.

“Wh-what are you doing?” She breathes as she watches him lower the showerhead, adjusting the setting on it so it sprays a specific way. He doesn’t say anything, he just presses the shower head to her pelvis and slides it over her clit. “Oh…oh!” She clutches at the tile on the wall as best she can. Her legs part just enough so he can maneuver the shower head easier.

He slots his mouth over hers and sucks on her tongue. She felt like she couldn’t breathe in the best possible way. The hand that wasn’t working the showerhead between her legs was planted on the wall next to her head. She couldn’t help but notice the veins in his arm and hand.

“H-Harry.” She licks her lips after he worked his mouth to her collar bone.

“Does it feel good?”

“Yes!” She mewls. Her hands move to his back, her nails clawing at his skin. “N-need more.” She wasn’t exactly sure what she needed more of, she just knew she needed it.

Before she knows it, he’s dropping to his knees, so he can see better, and thrusting two fingers up inside her. He focuses the showerhead on her clit, and her hands find their way to his hair. She tugs harshly, eliciting a moan from him and he looks up at her, pleading with her to do it again. His fingers curl up inside her and it has her panting.

“Oh, fuck! Just like that, oh my god!” She cries out as she comes to her release.  He slowly stands back up and her eyes widen as he sucks his fingers into his mouth. He puts the showerhead back as well. She eyes flicker down to his hard, twitching cock. “I think we should get out.” She reaches to turn the water off. “You may be fine with getting on your knees in here,” she says as she grabs them both a towel, “but I much prefer the comfort of my bed.”

Once they’re both dried off, they drop their towels and get onto her bed. He lays back as she shifts between her legs. She rubs her hands up and down his thick thighs, tracing over his tiger tattoo.

“Do you ever, um, think I could see you in your uniform.” She says as she starts to pump him slowly.

“Got a little fantasy, do you?” He smirks.

“I wouldn’t mind watching you slide down that pole.” She smirks back, and then kisses his tip.

“Fuck, just, come up here.” He pats the tops of his thighs. “I need to fuck you before I explode.”

“Oh, yeah?” She licks up and down his shaft. “Wanna feel how tight and wet I am around you?” She bats her lashes up at him and he groans.

“Please.”

“Lay flat on your back.”

“You don’t want me to sit up?”

“No.” She shakes her head as she reaches into her side table for a condom. She rips open the foil packet and slides it onto him. She scoots up his body, that was now flat on the bed, takes his wrists and pins them above his head. She rocks herself back and forth on his cock until he slips inside her. They both moan out.

“Fuck, you like being in control, baby?” He says as he watches her get a rhythm going.

“Sometimes.” She comes almost all the way off of him and then slams back down. “I’m an educator, so I thought I’d teach you who’s boss here.” She leans down and kisses him before sitting all the way back up.

“A lesson I won’t soon forget, eh?”

“You have no idea.” She smirks. “Don’t thrust up into me.” She says as she lets his wrists go. “And keep your hands above your head.

“You’re not gonna let me touch you?”

“I let you get pretty handsy in the shower, count yourself lucky for that.”

She lets her hands fall behind her, planting on his thighs as she starts to bounce up and down on him. Once she feels like she won’t topple over, she lets her hands drag over her breasts, groping herself in front of him. He grunts and grits his teeth as he watches her.

“Like using my cock to get yourself off?”

“Yeah, how’s it feel?”

“You feel incredible, just wish I could-“

“I said don’t.” She warns him just as he was raising his hands, but he sets them back down on the pillows.

She plants both of her hands on his shoulders as she hovers over him. She rocks back and forth on his cock, rubbing her clit against him perfectly. She swivels her hips around on him in circles and she starts moaning.

“Danielle, please, you’re killing me.” Harry groans, sweat was starting to form at his hairline.

“Pretty sure you’re not supposed to address your teacher by their first name.” She says, ghosting her lips over his before kissing him. She moans into his mouth as she comes around him. She grinds against him a few more times, riding out her orgasm. “I know you can ask nicer than that.” She says, nibbling on his earlobe.

Harry was so fucking turned on. He never would have guessed that Danielle was a little kinky, but he was incredibly excited about it, so he plays along.

“Miss Robinson?”

“Yes?”

“May I please fuck you from behind and rearrange your guts?” He smiles at her sweetly.

“You may, but only because you asked so nicely.” She pecks his lips and gets off of him carefully. She gets on all four as he shuffles behind her. He gives her bum a little smack and she giggles.

Harry slides back inside her, a sigh of relief leaving him at the feeling of her warmth around him again. He grips the back of her neck to get a steady pace going. She drops her front half so her cheek is smushes against her pillows. She licks her finger tips and starts rubbing her clit.

“Harder.” She grunts, and he complies.

He gives her hard, deep, and fast thrusts which result in him hitting her g-spot over and over. It feels like an electric shock going through her body, and suddenly she’s seeing stars, coming around him once again. He spills into the condom shortly after due to the way she was squeezing him. She was still moaning even after he pulled out.

“Yeh liked that, huh?” He gives her bum a soothing pat before getting off the bed.

“It was so good.” She mewls as she rolls onto her back.

As Harry goes into the light of the bathroom, he furrows his brows as he takes the condom off. He notices a slight shade of pink on the rubber. He didn’t want to embarrass her, but he wonders if she started her period without realizing it. He picks up his boxers off the bathroom floor and wiggles them up his legs.

“Hey…Danielle?” She hums her response. He thought she looked like an angel, laying peacefully with her eyes closed. He sits on the edge of the bed, placing a hand on her thigh. “Babe, I don’t wanna embarrass you or anything, but I think you started your period?”

“What?” Her eyes open and she sits up. “That’s impossible, I had it last week. What makes you think I started it?”

“The condom was a little pink.”

Her face goes pale, and she licks her lips in thought.

“Excuse me.” She gets up, wrapping one of her blankets around herself as she goes into the bathroom. She sits on the toilet to pee. It doesn’t sting or hurt, but when she checks the toilet paper, she rolls her eyes when she sees the light pink color. It wasn’t period blood. She sighs and flushes the toilet, washing her hands before returning to the bedroom, and sitting next to Harry on the bed. “It, um, it’s not period blood. I…I think I tore a little. You fucked me pretty hard.”

“Why didn’t you tell me I was hurting you?! I would have slowed down or stopped; I feel terrible.”

“Don’t!” She shakes her head. “It didn’t hurt, it doesn’t even hurt now. It’s just been a little while for me, and you’re, um, bigger than I’m used to, and you fucked me hard. I wanted it that way, I’m not upset. It felt really, really good.” She gives him a soft smile. “Sorry if you’re grossed out…”

“I’m not, I just wanna make sure you’re alright.”

“I am…I’m really glad we did that.”

“Me too.” He leans in and kisses her tenderly. “Kinda wanna spend the night with you, would that be okay?”

“How are you at making breakfast?” She raises an eyebrow at him.

“M’aces at making pancakes.” He says with a bright smile. “Do you like pancakes, love?”

She nods her head yes, wrapping her arms around him and giving him quick kisses on his cheek. Did she have sex with him a little faster than she intended? Yes, but it was worth it. She felt incredibly close with him, and she couldn’t wait to see where things were going to go with Chief Styles.

[silhouetteofacedar]

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 2: Casual Friday the 13th

Previous Chapter - AO3 Link - MSR, rated E

He gives himself a pep talk on the way to work the next morning. It feels ridiculous.

Just ask her out, he thinks. Be casual. Invite her to grab a drink, act like you’re going whether she joins you or not. It’s just Scully.

That’s some bullshit; she’s not just anything to him. She’s everything.

Also he doesn’t go to bars much, and never alone, so he’s not sure how subtle this will be.

He pushes the thoughts out of his head until they’re leaving the office at the end of the day, gathering their things and donning winter layers.

“Buy you a drink, Agent Scully?” he tosses out casually, taking her coat from the rack.

“Hm, what’s the occasion?” she asks.

“Friday the thirteenth; I’m testing my luck,” he replies, holding her coat open for her.

She slips her arms into the sleeves. “I guess one wouldn’t hurt,” she decides.

Huh. That was surprisingly easy.

He chalks it up to beginner’s luck and ushers her out the door with a hand on her back.

They end up at Casey’s Bar because it’s close to the Hoover Building, and neither of them had wanted to walk too far through the cold February night. Mulder’s a little nervous, but not enough to let it show. At the risk of being overconfident, he thinks it’s actually going pretty well. This outing is markedly different from every first date he’s had in the past. There’s no need for small talk with Scully, no pressure to act more gregarious or charming than he naturally is. Scully herself is a refreshing presence, like a crisp spring breeze. Cool without being austere, gentle and yet invigorating.

Also she doesn’t know it’s a date, so there’s that.

They perch at the far end of the counter and shoot the shit, talk about work. She orders a draught beer, and seeing the large glass in her little hand makes his stomach flutter nonsensically. He orders one too, just to keep pace with her, though he suspects she could drink him under the table if the occasion ever arose. The thought is strangely erotic.

Mulder watches her full pink lips press against the edge of her glass and he clears his throat awkwardly. Down, boy. He scrambles for a diversion.

“Any special plans for tomorrow night?” he asks, taking a foamy swallow of beer.

“What’s- oh.” Scully sets down her glass. “No, not this year,” she says softly.

He suddenly feels like a prick.

“You?” she asks, because she’s a polite human being.

Diffuse the moment, buddy. “I’ve got a pretty hot date, actually.”

Her shoulders stiffen momentarily. Interesting. “Oh?” she says lightly.

“Yeah, the boys invited me over to pick apart some found footage they stumbled upon. Frohike’s making chili.”

Scully’s face breaks into a smile, and he feels a wash of relief. She shakes her head. “You know, for about two seconds I thought you might actually have a life. It was a surreal experience.”

“I have a life, Scully,” he insists. It’s you. Aliens, conspiracy, and you.

“Mhm,” she hums, licking a bit of stray foam off her upper lip, causing a twinge south of his belt buckle. “Mulder, can I ask you a highly personal question?”

He coughs awkwardly. “No guarantees that I’ll answer, but sure. Hit me.”

She suddenly seems nervous. “Well… we’ve known each other for five years now, and we spend a lot of time together. I’ve met your mother, your friends. And in all that time, I’ve not known you to go on a single date.”

Besides this one, he thinks. “And?” he prompts.

She absently wipes her finger through the condensation on her glass. “Well, I can’t figure out why not. Your - preferences - are quite evident, and I’m sure finding a willing partner would be fairly easy for you, at least for… casual encounters.”

I don’t want casual encounters, he thinks. I want to burn pancakes for you on Sunday mornings.

He huffs out a breath of laughter. “I have it on good authority that I’m not the best company, Scully. What makes you think it’d be easy?”

She takes a long pull of her beer. “Because you’re very attractive.”

His heart stops momentarily, then starts back up at twice the speed. He scrambles for some composure. “Oh, so you think I’m attractive,” he teases lightly. He hopes she doesn’t notice the sudden tremble in his fingers.

Scully nods, as though she hadn’t just dropped a bomb on him. “Yes, I do. A lot of people do, Mulder,” she adds quickly. The lighting in the bar is dim, so he assumes he’s imagining the flush on her cheeks. Or it’s the beer. “The women’s restroom at the Bureau is a cesspool of gossip.”

“Well I’m not the only hot piece of ass in the X-Files division,” he says, glancing at her over the rim of his glass.

“Don’t let Skinner hear you say that,” she quips. “He’s shy.”

Mulder grins, amused by her deflection. “People talk about you too, Scully. I’ve had to fend off suitors for you more than once.” Now it’s her turn to squirm, he thinks.

She blinks rapidly. “You’re joking.”

Mulder chuckles. “Swear. Every once in a while a guy will ask me something about you. I tell ‘em to ask you themselves, and I assume they usually chicken out.”

“What kind of things do they want to know?”

Mulder shakes his head. “Let’s just say they’re not asking me your favorite color,” he says simply, lifting his glass to his mouth once more. “You can imagine the rest.”

Scully presses her lips together. “I don’t have to, unfortunately,” she sighs. “Thanks for having my back,” she adds.

He shrugs. “I’m your partner,” he says. “I’ll always have your back.”

He suddenly remembers a conversation he had a little over a year ago, a month or so before Scully’s birthday. It seems like a fitting time to tell her.

“There’s only been one guy that I thought was alright,” he says. “I, uh, never told you this, Scully, because it was confidential, but seeing as the subject in question is now deceased…”

Scully turns to him on her stool. “Mulder, what?”

“Pendrell. He liked you.”

She knits her brows together in that adorable way she has. “I liked him too.”

“I mean, he really liked you,” Mulder emphasizes. “He asked me once if you were seeing anyone.”

“Oh,” she says. "What did you tell him?”

“I told him ‘Agent Scully’s personal life is her business, and any questions regarding it should be posed to her directly’.”

“Very formal,” she muses. “I should print that on my business cards for you to hand out.”

“The thought’s crossed my mind. Are you currently accepting applications for the position of ‘boyfriend’?” Mulder asks. “I’d be happy to field candidates.”

“Oh, I bet you’d love that,” Scully says with an eye roll. “Admit it, you like interrogating suspects. Especially when you think they’re mutants of some kind.”

“I promise that any potential boyfriends will be firmly terrestrial and completely unremarkable.”

The sentence hangs in the air for a long moment. “I don’t know that I want that after all,” Scully finally says quietly. “The husband with a nine-to-five, the picket fence, the priest over for lunch after Sunday mass. I’ve seen too much, done too much, to really fit into that picture anymore.”

Mulder feels a pang in his chest, the old familiar guilt creeping in. “This is a lonely path,” he admits. “Working nonstop to find evidence, only to have it be discounted offhand.”

“No closure, no arrests, no satisfying conclusions to leave you feeling a little bit safer knowing you did your job,” Scully adds.

Mulder rubs his hand over his mouth, nodding. “Just weird substances that nobody can explain and accounts of phenomena that nobody believes. Spooky shit.”

Scully raises her drink with a sudden levity. “To spooky shit,” she toasts.

Their glasses clink, and the contact chimes in Mulder’s ears. A kiss of half-empty pints.

Mulder bites his lip absently, gathering his next words. “So… what do you want?” he asks carefully, leaning in a fraction.

Scully shakes her head, sighing softly. “That’s the big question, isn’t it? I can’t even think about long term at this point. My life is so different from what I’d planned, and I’m still adapting.”

“Alright, forget long term for the moment,” Mulder prompts. “What’s something that you want that you can acquire within, say, the next month or so?”

“You granting wishes now, Mulder?” she asks coyly, taking a sip of beer.

“Depends on what you ask for,” he replies, voice low.

It feels as though they’re circling the truth, caught in each other’s orbit, traveling an ellipse of the unspoken. He wonders if she feels it too. The beer has him weightless, spinning out into the unexplored reaches of space between them. He wants to grab her hand on the worn bar counter, anchor himself to her sun-warmed earth.

“As strange as it sounds,” she says after a moment, “I’m… oddly contented. If I spent more time on it I’m sure I could give you a whole list of things I feel I’m lacking, but at this moment none of them really matter.”

His heart accelerates. “Must be some beer,” he jokes.

She smiles at him, a soft closed-lip turn of her mouth that warms him better than any liquor. “Company’s not half bad either. Despite whatever good authority has told you otherwise.”

He drops a hand onto hers then, gives it a brief squeeze before returning it to his glass and finishing his beer.

They walk back to the FBI parking garage, arms bumping each other as they brace themselves against the winter chill. Mulder escorts Scully to her car because he’s a gentleman and squeezing out every last second he can with her.

Scully ducks her head, seeming almost shy. “Thanks for inviting me. I haven’t been out in a while,” she says simply. “This was nice.”

Mulder shrugs, suddenly unsure how to orient his limbs. He wants to hug her, but he knows this isn’t the right time. “Don’t mention it,” he replies, shoving his hands into his coat pockets.

“Enjoy your ménage à quatre with the Gunmen,” she says with a cheeky grin.

“I’ll save some kisses from Frohike for you,” he replies with a wink.

They face each other, suddenly quiet. It feels as though they waded too far into the ocean and drifted down shore, losing sight of their picnic spot. They float in the silence, buoyed by their exchange, but uncertain as to where they stand.

“Goodnight,” Mulder says finally, because he can’t think of what else to say beyond that and ‘I love you’. Or ‘come home with me’.

“‘Night,” she replies, unlocking her car door and slipping inside.

He wanders aimlessly over to his car and bundles into the driver’s seat, heaving a deep, half-contented sigh. He considers the evening a tentative success, despite a somewhat unsatisfactory conclusion.

He jerks off when he gets home, holding Scully’s sweet face in his mind’s eye as he comes shamefully into his own lonely hand.

[nihiltism]

won't you please give me oc number 7

okay so both u and casey (hi casey if u see this!!) asked for 7 so hm. alright that would be mimii whos like?? a semi sona of mine?? i also cannot figure out how to color them to save my life since i think mis colors change depending on how theyre feeling anyway. heres a doodle

very shaped little guy, i think. anyway mimii goes by they/mi and i think i have already talked about mi before but i Will talk about mi again. anyway their Thing is that mis a little blobby fellow and an Involuntary Shapeshifter^tm which is fantasy language for what if masking was really literal and even more inconvenient. anyway yeah usually when theyre talking to someone else their form sorta Shifts to look like said other person but like. its like that one ditto from the pokemon anime right mimii still looks like mimii just Rearranged. i have a sketch page of them mimicking other characters but since ive only introduced hugslug so far heres them being a slug

anyway mi is The Actual Definition Of An Identity Crisis since yknow. they really dont know how much of an identity they Have on their own or if mis just accidentally stealing traits from other people. the fun part of this is that i dont have a good moral or specific way theyll end up viewing miself by the end because mis a semi sona and i Also dont know what the fuck im doing. as for right now i think theyre just doing their best. they still dont exactly know what mis deal is but mis kind of just decided "well. im me. i cant be anything less than that at least" which might be a copout but again its a sona shut up

also mi melts if theyre stressed out. they just need a friend who will put them in a bucket in the fridge and sit nearby just to let mi know theyre still there until they recoagulate. dont we all need a friend like that

also they have about the same texture as one of those silicone or rubber stim toys. mi Is a blob of goo but they arent very sticky theyre just a bit bouncy.

i Might have a plot with mi. i might not. theyre just a little guy i wish i was a blob with easier to visualize problems. still problems but at least they arent entirely in my brains. yeah