#to some people they smell like mothballs

[homeofhousechickens]

(Throws this at you)

[slushycoookie]

Shave and a Haircut ~ Logan Howlett x Fem! Reader

✩ Word Count: 7.2k ✩ Content: Deadpool & Wolverine spoilers! Worst!Logan with a black reader (but I don't go into much detail so anyone can still relate), very fluffy, smut near the end, oral sex (f! receiving), vaginal fingering, safe sex (Logan does indeed wrap it up), MINORS DNI! ✩ A/N: A one-shot about my man because after I saw that movie I had to write something about him. Enjoy!

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

There is nothing like a cigar after an extended mission to ease the stress.

Logan lit his lighter, burning the cigar's tip and taking in some puffs. Smoke blows through his nose while his partner gets his sword out of his head.

"This is really stuck in here," Wade grunts, turning his head to get a different angle. "How the fuck-?" He jerks the sword around, managing to put it in deeper.

Logan watches, knowing he brought it upon himself when he taunted that gang leader, who was now dead on the floor, shredded. It was amusing to watch Wade struggle after giving him hell the entire time.

"Oh Wolvie?" Wade calls, giving him a wave. "Mind giving me a hand? Or are you just gonna watch?" Logan sighs, going over and pulling the sword out of his head with one motion. He tosses it to the ground while Wade cheers at his freedom from the blade. "Thanks, Dad."

That earns a middle finger from Logan as he sits down on the crate to resume smoking. Wade sits next to him on a smaller one, turning towards him, head tilted, and Logan knows he's batting his eyes.

"Did you give it any further thought?"

"Give any thought to what?" Another puff of smoke escapes his lips.

"That coffee shop girl. The one who gave you her number before licking that stirring spoon all seductive like." Wade describes, "A bit unsanitary, but we do what we gotta do for love."

"I'm not calling her."

Wade starts throwing a mini tantrum, kicking the crate he sat on away, hands on his hips. "But why?"

"She puts too much fucking cream in my coffee. After I told her not to."

"That's because she wants your cream. Inside her. Like many of us do."

"Then she should say it to my face and not mess up my order."

Wade groans, bringing over another crate, smaller than the last one, before plopping down on it. "You need to give me something here. I tried to set you up with the cat lady who lives above us, but you said no."

"Because she smells like fucking mothballs."

"Hey, so does Althea. And you didn't say anything!"

"I don't want to fuck Althea."

"Who doesn't want to fuck Althea?"

"Not the person who lives with her."

Wade huffs, folding his arms. "Fine. Pushing the cat lady aside, there was that librarian who was eye fucking you in the fantasy section. She definitely wanted a taste of Mordor."

"No, absolutely not."

"Ugh, who knew you were so picky? The Wolverine I knew wanted to fuck anything with a nice pair of legs and a hole."

Logan didn't respond, tapping the ashes away and taking another smoke.

A few months after Wade and he stopped Cassandra, the former wanted Logan to start branching out. Meeting other people while the merc with a mouth rekindled a relationship with his lady, Vanessa. It was Wade's way of ensuring Logan wasn't alone after he was for so long. Even Laura agreed that he should try. She said she wanted to see him happy.

"It's my decision, not yours," Logan told Wade before finishing his cigar and smashing it.

Little did he know that Logan already found someone.

A hairdresser.

Well, a licensed beautician, but you liked doing hair.

Logan met you after needing to get away from the house. Wade used his shampoo, which he wasn't sure why since the mercenary had no hair. Instead of subjecting Blind Al to another one of their famous beatings, he decided to get some fresh air.

Logan needed a wash and a trim. He was willing to take care of himself this time and not let himself go like in his other timeline.

That's when he noticed the lights of a salon while coming up the block. A large neon sign still showed it was open as someone else was inside. You were sweeping away stray hairs in the vicinity when Logan walked in, the bell ringing to alert you that someone had come in.

"Hello!" You greet, "How can I help you?"

Your cheery smile made Logan pause, "Uh, can you do a quick wash and a haircut?"

"Of course!"

He takes off his jacket, and you go to take it, but he stops you, deciding to at least keep some of his gentlemanly traits by hanging up his own clothes. You lead him to one of the sinks and secure the cape around him before having him put his head back. He sits there for a moment when you mumble that you need to get more shampoo.

The inside of the salon was simple.

Logan thought a woman like you who works there would have a more aesthetically pleasing environment—a splash of color, fancy lights, something. Instead, there are just regular barber chairs, huge, plain mirrors, and a small waiting area in the front.

Your attire was even simple. A casual T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers that were clearly made for people on their feet all day.

"Sorry, I didn't have a chance to restock the shampoo." You come back with a big bottle, setting it by the sink.

"It's fine." Logan grunts. You tilt your head to observe him for a moment. He waited for you to recognize who he is, fan girl about him, and then try to get in his pants. He wasn't looking forward to that. Logan does think you're okay to look at, but he just wanted to get a haircut and go.

After looking at him for the longest time, he decides to cut out the middleman. "Yes, I am the Wolverine, now can we get to the part where you do my damn hair?"

"Oh." You blink momentarily. "I was just checking to see if you needed a shave."

Logan could hear Wade say something stupid in his ear. Like, "Really jumped the gun, didn't you, honey badger?". "Fuck, sorry."

"It's okay."

"No, I didn't mean to explode at you like that."

"It's alright, Wolverine." You snicker while setting up your tools. "I recognized you as soon as you walked in. I thought I handled your arrival pretty well."

"Yeah, you did."

"Didn't think you'd prefer me screaming in your ear about how you're in my salon, asking me to give you a haircut and no one else. Of course, you would ask me; I’m the only one here. Alright, I'm gonna do your hair now."

Logan huffed, relaxing in the sink as you turned on the water. He jerked when the jets first hit his scalp. He knew from how your lips tightened that you weren't trying to laugh.

"Too hot?"

"Ya think?"

Quickly, you fixed the water to a cooler temperature. Logan allowed himself to relax as you did your magic.

He counted on one hand the last time someone else washed his hair. How he missed the feeling. Your fingertips massage his scalp, getting rid of the oil and dirt. The suds covered his head while you lathered his hair. His nostrils twitched at the crisp scent of cucumber and mint. It smelled delightful.

Despite the water debacle, you rinsed his hair out nicely. Making sure all the soap was gone. You placed a towel on him, getting rid of the excess water before helping him sit up. Logan felt sluggish, knowing he was about to fall asleep if you kept massaging him like that.

You couldn't help but snicker. "Don't fall asleep on me now." Logan didn't have a good comeback, half-assed muttering something when you led him to your styling chair. "I think we should give you a shave."

"No." He feels his beard on instinct, protecting it from your razor.

You playfully pout, and for a moment, he thought it was cute. "Aww, come on. Not even a trim?"

"Are you like this with all your clients?"

"No, only with Wolverine."

Logan rolled his eyes, "Logan. Enough of this Wolverine shit."

"Okay, Logan." He shakes his head, not saying anything else. "You got until I finish your haircut to let me know about that shave."

You maneuver behind him and begin your work. Logan's mild annoyance turned docile as you combed the knots out of his hair. Nothing but your light breathing and the turned-down radio in the background. He holds in a breath when you run your hands through it once more with oil. Even that oil smelled good. Slightly sweet.

"You walked in here with these cute little tufts on the side of your head." You compliment as you pull out the blow dryer. "Do you still want those?"

"They're not cute." Logan rebuttals, "Just style it the same way I had when I walked in."

"With the tufts, got it."

The hair dryer cut him off before he had a chance to speak. He sat there, gripping the handles of his chair and watching the excess hair fly around his face. All this time you were still gentle, handling his hair with ease.

Logan felt how his hair was soft, much softer compared to when he does it. His hair hadn't felt that way for a long time.

"So, you probably forgot, but you saved me years ago." You mention, running the brush amongst his head.

"Oh?" Logan's stomach turned. Of course, he met a person that his best self saved.

"Yeah, I know you save a lot of people, so it's easy to lose track. But it meant a lot to me." You recount the event as if to remind him. How a few rogue mutants tried to take over a city block, including the bank you were in. One of the guys tries to hold you hostage, escorting you to a car to take you to a second location. Only for Logan, not him, the other one, to show up and attack the mutants after scooping up your shaken body. Telling you, "It's okay, sugar."

"I wanted to see if I could thank you by offering a free haircut. It was stupid, you probably had access to the best barbers wherever you lived."

Logan shrugged, "They were alright."

Your laughter was nice, squeezing his heart. "Thanks for saying that. I still felt ridiculous though. That's why I gave up on the idea. I knew I was never going to see you again. Until now."

You turn him towards the mirror, showing off the hair cut with his barely noticeable tufts. Logan's eyes lit up seeing himself. He wasn't sure how you managed to give him the same haircut but better.

"Shit."

"A good shit, right?"

"Yeah."

You motion around his beard, your offer still standing. A beard trim wouldn't be bad but Logan had a feeling that once he went home, Wade would notice something different about him and didn't want to deal with that.

"Maybe another time. Thanks."

When he stands, he pulls out his wallet. You place your hand on top of his to decline. It was a brief touch but enough to make his heart jump.

"It's okay. On the house."

"Forget that, I gotta pay ya."

"Were you not listening when I said I wanted to pay back the Wolverine who saved me?"

He was but that was the thing. Logan wasn't your Logan. He was the worst one and you were trying to give him a free haircut. The wrong Logan.

"I don't like taking stuff for free."

"You're gonna have to deal with it." You fold your arms, "I'm not having you pay."

Logan didn't want to go through this song and dance. Being around someone as kind as you was long enough for him. He grunted, taking his jacket. You said goodbye as if you weren't going to see him again. But he wasn't the type of man to receive things without giving back.

That's when it started. His odd relationship with you.

Logan saved money on the side to give to you when he saw you next time. Yes, he was planning to see you again. His excuse to himself was you did his hair well. No other reason.

So when it was time for his next haircut, Logan had a plan. When he went to pay you, he would include the money from last time. To just say it was an additional tip.

You were smart, though. Somehow, after the initial shock of him coming back again for the haircut, you did accept payment but only for the last haircut. The one he just received was now free. Logan scowled at you while you had the prettiest smile on your face.

"I'm serious about that free haircut."

"And I'm serious about not taking things for free."

Logan hovered above you, meanmugging you to get you to cave. But you didn't care, a playful glint in your eyes.

It was annoying. A person as kind as you doing this for someone like him. For someone who's not even your Logan. Yet, he kept coming back, getting his usual haircut.

Like a stray cat who received food. Coming back and gracing you with his presence. It was just because you were good at doing his hair.

But there were times when Logan went to see you, he didn't get a haircut. The thought of you being alone at night hit him one day. How you closed at nine on the dot. The neighborhood wasn't terrible, albeit decent. Logan didn't like the idea of you being by yourself at night. You were nice. He was worried someone would hold you up in your salon to get you alone.

So he hung around the last hours you had to close.

You said you were fine, that you had been closing by yourself for years, with hardly any problems. Logan just wanted to make sure you were safe.

You didn't put up much of a fight either. Instead, you continued to do your duties. Tidying up, restocking after the customers that came through. With an intimidating superhero on the sidelines.

"Do you go on missions?" You ask one time while sweeping.

Logan lifted the styling chair for you, making sure you could reach every crevice. "Occasionally. I have to pay bills."

"Are they dangerous?"

"Of course, they're dangerous."

He then picks up the vanity, careful to not damage anything. Logan notices how your eyes land on his bulging bicep for a second before you go back to sweeping. "Do you have anyone that worries about you when you leave? Besides Laura?"

Logan likes it when you remember the other people he's close to. He told you about Laura not long ago. How she was looking into colleges, making him realize how much of a young woman she was growing up to be. He holds off on letting her go out on many missions, wanting her to experience her youth as a citizen, not as a hero, despite having similar abilities.

"Laura doesn't worry about me." Logan snorts before placing the vanity back down. "If she does, she's really good at hiding it." You hum, keeping silent. "But I don't have anyone else worrying about me."

"I see."

"Why are ya asking?" You avoid his gaze, pretending that sweeping was more important. "Spill it, sweetheart."

You perk up at the sudden nickname. Logan realizes what came out but doesn't show on his face. Instead, he waits for your answer.

"I just wanted you to know that when you go on missions, I'll be wishing for you to stay safe and come back. If that helps…" You admit, your eyes on his own. Logan feels his heartbeat pick up, not expecting that.

"It does."

Your face gave off a look he wanted to hang on his wall. Gentle, kind, and caring. He liked that.

Logan couldn't sleep, and he could see your face once he closed his eyes. Your light scent was still on his jacket from afar when you brushed against him. It took a minute for his heart to come down at the thought of you.

"Hey." Wade waved his hand before Logan's face to snap him out of reminiscing about you. "Don't you think it's time to get another haircut? You're looking a little mangy."

Logan scowled before standing up from his position, ready to return home.

The good thing about all this is that Wade didn't catch on. Considering he was rekindling his relationship with Vanessa, Logan figured the merc would focus his attention elsewhere. Which was good because he was going to rip Wade's face off if he even teased him about his relationship with you.

When Logan goes to see you, he always makes the excuse of going to take a walk. Down to your shop where he always sees you. Alone, tidying up the place to close, playing some music in the background that makes you wiggle your hips a little. He finds himself staring at you for a bit before walking in. The aura of domesticity around your soft frame.

Logan's lips curl upwards when yours does and he enjoys the light in your eyes whenever they connect with his. He felt strange, a certain feeling he hasn't felt for a long time. Does he…like you?

"Can I wax your eyebrows?" You ask, touching up his hair in the mirror as you were almost done.

"What's wrong with my eyebrows?"

"They're so bushy." You trace your nail on one and he doesn't move. "Like that beard you won't let me touch."

"My beard is fine and so are my eyebrows."

You bat your eyelashes towards him, playfully pouting to convince him. "Aww come on. Pretty please?" Logan's breath hitched at the sight. Your pleading act was making you as gorgeous as ever. "You good? Your face is getting red."

Logan stared back in the mirror to see his flushed face. All because of you doing that stupid, adorable look. "I'm fine. Go ahead and do it."

Now you were surprised. "Huh?"

"What, you thought I was gonna say no?"

"Yeah." When you remove the cape from him, he stands, staring at you when you put it away. He is serious, and it makes you stop in your tracks.

"So, you're being for real right now?"

"Duh. Get to it before I change my mind."

You swivel your head, pursing your lips. "Ask me nicely."

"Wax my eyebrows, sugar."

Another nickname he didn't expect to come out, but you grin, motioning to the back of the building. He follows you into a small room, outfitted with a cot, a little dresser, and a stool. He wasn't a fan of how tight the room seemed, but the upside was he kept bumping into you. Or did you keep bumping into him? It doesn't matter because he felt you. That small bump against your front, and he felt your plump body—good enough to grope.

He should not be thinking about that right now.

"How's your pain tolerance?"

It was Logan's turn to shoot you a look, "I have been shot at, stabbed, impaled, what do you think?"

"Alright, alright. I just wanted to ask." You set up the hot wax, swirling it around in a bowl as you waited for it to get a suitable temperature. "Waxing might be worse compared to all of that."

He huffs, "We'll see."

You ordered him to close his eyes, and he lay there. The wax, which was bordering on very hot, coated the top half of his eyebrow. It didn't feel bad so far. He wasn't sure what you were talking about. Once the strip was placed on his hair, as quickly as you put it on, you ripped it off.

"Ow! What the fuck?"

Logan's hands balled into fists, but the claws didn't come out.

"I asked you about your pain tolerance and what did you say?"

"That shit is fucking different than getting shot at." He maneuvered to get up but your hand pushed his chest to settle him down.

"You can't leave yet, I gotta do the other brow."

"Fuck that, I'm not doing this anymore."

"Logan, I can't let you walk around with slightly uneven brows." You push him down again gently. He likes the feel of your hand on his chest. He can feel the heat from your palm. "Please let me do the other side and I'll stop."

What did he get himself into? Logan allowed you to make him suffer a little longer as you placed the wax on his other brow before ripping the hairs clean off. This time it was less unbearable but it still sucked. It wasn't all bad when you leaned closer on his face, observing his brows to ensure they were even. The shirt you were wearing this time had a v-neck, so he could quickly see your cleavage and how pretty your breasts were displayed.

"You're good."

Logan quickly got up right after you sat back. That's enough, he needed to go home. His face was redder than ever and he was about to do things a lady like you shouldn't witness. Despite the slight burn from his brows, he wanted you up in his face again. Admire your beautiful self. Kiss you.

"Sorry." You call out after closing up the back. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"I wasn't scared." He grunted.

"Uh-huh."

"I wasn't."

"Sure."

Logan rolls his eyes. He wanted to leave but he had to take you home. He usually does when he started to see you. What if you invite him in this time? Then he'd be all over you. Wanting to bury himself in between your thighs and have the whole block know how good he made you feel. He was never like this before.

Logan leads you out and waits for you to lock up. Sweat starts sticking to his forehead and down his neck. He was just taking you home. That's all he had to do.

"Caught red-handed!" Wade jumps up from behind a car, pointing at the two of you as if you were about to kiss. That's what Logan wished he was doing. "So this is where you were going late at night. Snuggled up with another woman."

"Another woman?" You questioned, brows furrowed and Logan could see you were going to get upset. But he didn't have time to wonder why.

"My roommate here has been very secretive," Wade teases. I sometimes lie in bed waiting for him to come home, worried that he got lost or found his way into a bar. Little did I know…" He shoots Logan a mischievous grin.

If you weren't nearby, Logan would stab him in the balls.

"Alright, relax." Laura appears from the same car Wade was. "He's not doing anything shady."

Logan looks confused at her, "You two thought I was up to something?"

"Just me." Wade slides closer to him, "I brought Laura here because it's been so long since we had a girl's night."

Laura rolls her eyes. "I was worried about you. Now I don't need to." She glances over at you, who is so confused about everything but is taking this in stride. "Hi, I'm Laura."

"You're Laura?" She nods for confirmation, "Oh my god, I didn't think I get to meet you!" You shake her hand while admiring her. "I love your hair, by the way."

"Oh, thanks." Laura shoots Logan a smile of silent approval.

"And I'm Wade." He gets close to you, Logan's back hunching a bit as Wade is too close. Of course, you don't mind when you shake his hand back. "Do you like my hair too?"

"Uh, of course." You observe the worn-out toupee. "Although I'm not sure why I see staples…"

"It's because he's a fucking idiot." Logan cuts in.

"Not only that, but I can't grow hair." Wade tells you, "Sometimes I'd like to spice it up when I see my lady or when I want to go to the Dollar Store."

"Is…is that the only one you have?" You ask, eyes filled with worry.

"Yeah, pretty much."

You observe him momentarily and Logan sees the hairdresser glint in your eye. "Do you want some more? I have a couple of wigs in the shop that were given to me."

Wade blinks, looking at Laura and Logan in shock, "Really? You'd give them to me for free?"

"Yeah, I'm not using them." You turn to go back to the door but Logan blocks your path.

"You just closed up."

"I'm just going to grab a few wigs for your friend to try-"

"You've been on your feet all day. He can wait another day, sweetheart."

"Sweetheart?" Logan heard Wade whisper.

You purse your lips, "I didn't recall this being your salon."

"It's not."

He stares you down, and you stare back, trying to will him to let you back inside. Logan's not sure how long the stare-off takes, but Wade stands between you two.

"The wigs can wait, I don't need to go to the Dollar Store anytime soon."

You tear your eyes away to focus on Wade. "Are you sure? It's no problem."

"I'm sure. Plus, the sexual tension between you two was a little crazy-"

"I just remembered!" Laura silences Wade with a hand on his shoulder. "We were going to get donuts. For Althea."

"Is 'donuts' a new code for cocaine-?"

"Actual donuts." She pushes him away down to the sidewalk, Logan being eternally grateful. "Bye, it was nice to meet you!"

"It was nice to meet you too!" You wave them away, watching them go down the block. Logan made sure Wade was far away from his sight before sighing.

"I didn't expect them to show up."

"It's okay. I'm glad I got to meet Laura."

The corner of his lips go upwards, "Me too."

Logan walks you home to your apartment in a complex similar to the one he lives in with Wade. Once you go to your door, you turn to him, head slightly tilted.

"When will I see you again?"

"Soon." He says, causing you to roll your eyes at his vague words.

"Please tell Wade to stop by, I was serious about those wigs."

"You keep inviting him in he's not going to leave."

"So…like you?"

Logan lets out a short chuckle, "Not even close."

"You sure about that?" You step closer to him, playfulness in your eyes. Logan looks down at you, feeling the subtle warmth of your body through his leather jacket.

"What are you trying to say?"

"Nothing…"

You pull away and he wants to chase after you, but he doesn't. Logan makes sure you go in, saying goodnight to you.

This can't continue. His heart was going to implode if he kept dancing around you. He needed to tell you of his predicament. That he wasn't the Logan of this timeline. After dealing with Wade and Laura.

When he came in, Wade immediately handed Laura twenty bucks, face filled with defeat. "I know you're over two hundred years old, but I thought you had some game, man."

"For once, I agree." Laura adds, "It's good you're taking it slow, though. She seems nice."

"She is. The only thing is she thinks I'm this timeline's Logan."

The bombshell Logan drops makes Wade and Laura look at each other.

"I don't see the problem here." Wade says.

Logan explains how this timeline's Logan saved you and why you've been so generous to him. He tries to not let the fear of telling you his true origins get to him. He knows it's the right thing to do.

"Wait a minute." Wade squints and goes up to Logan, who eyes him suspiciously. "Why are your eyebrows so neat?"

Oh shit, Logan completely forgot you waxed his eyebrows.

"Don't worry about it."

"Yeah, they are really neat." Laura observes before running her thumb over his eyebrow. "And smooth."

"Stop messing with my fucking eyebrows." He snatches his head away.

"Did you get your eyebrows waxed?" Wade asks, then proceeds to explain, "I know this because Vanessa usually does. And I like feeling how smooth her eyebrows are—like a baby's bottom. Wait a minute. Did the hairdresser lady wax your brows?"

Logan was so close to ripping his head off. But Althea just got a new rug and he didn't want to get blood on it.

"If he let her wax his eyebrows, that man is down bad." Althea says on the couch, eating a glazed donut.

"Truly down bad." Wade cosigns, and Logan decides that's enough talking and retreats to the bedroom.

He wants to follow through on his plan to tell you about his true origins, but he isn't sure how or when to tell you.

The next time he saw you, Wade and Laura tagged along. The latter wanted to see you again while the former wanted to see what types of wigs you had. Logan watched you give Wade plenty of options to choose from. Although he instantly grabbed the one that radiated 'Legolas' vibes, with the long, platinum blonde hair to his waist, saying this would be a good one to role-play with Vanessa.

You suggested giving Laura a quick trim of her ends, seeing that some of them were split. As always, you were so quick in your work. Laura's face lit up at the subtle difference touching up her hair made. His heart squeezed when you made his daughter smile.

He wants to tell you. He wants to tell you so badly.

Logan didn't know how you'd take it. If you'd be mad at him for lying in your face. Or horrified when he tells you all the dark things he's done. But he couldn't take another moment of staring at you, heart skipping a beat at the sight of you.

He knew how he was going to tell you.

"I think it's time for a trim." Logan says while sitting in the chair.

You examine his hair, "No, your hair is okay right now."

"I'm not talking about my hair." Logan runs his hands over his beard, earning a gasp from you.

"Really? Really, really?" He nodded before you squeal, going through the drawers to pull out your tools. The beard comb, razors, and scissors.

"Just shape it up and make it neat." He instructs, getting worried that you would shave it off completely.

"I got it."

Logan felt weird with your hands on his face. You rubbed a bunch of liquids along his beard, took the comb and made sure the hair was neat, and used the razor to trim up the sides and his sideburns. It had been a while since he's had a gorgeous woman like you feel along his face.

He admires the work you've done on his beard, how neat and clean it was compared to how he was growing it out. A look of pride on your face shown while observing him in the mirror.

"You look handsome."

Logan's mouth twitches to hide back a smile, "Thanks." When he stands, once again he gathers his wallet to pay you. As he hands you the money, you reach to take it but he doesn't pull away. "I'm assuming this one is free too?"

"Of course."

Logan grunts as you take his money from his last haircut, putting it in your pocket. "Look, I need to tell you something."

"Okay?" Your brows raised in curiosity, "What's up?"

A lump forms in his throat as he takes a minute to say what he's going to say. "I'm not your Logan." You blink with confusion and he continues. "I mean it. The Logan who saved you years ago, isn't me."

"Oh. Oh!" You take a step forward, "You're a clone then? Infused with the other Logan's memories?"

"No, not even close, sugar."

Logan briefly explains the multiverse, the different timelines that include a multitude of realities and people. He is from another timeline, one where he was alone after his team died. He went on a murderous rampage and killed bad and innocent people alike. He wasn't this timeline's Logan who died a hero—or about to die as one.

"I couldn't lie to you anymore." He admits, "I didn't want you to get your hopes up. Over a guy who you've admired for years. I'm not that guy. In fact, I'm the worst of them all."

You shake your head, fingertips grazing against the fabric of his shirt. "You're not the worst. Not one bit."

"I just told you I killed people. Innocent people."

"In the past. And you made up for it by saving this timeline right?" All he could do was nod and not focus on how close you were to him right now. "You're not the worst Logan. You're the same one who stayed with me almost every day when I closed, lets me give you free haircuts, and has a wonderful friend and daughter who cares for him so much. I'm pretty sure there aren't any other Logan's who do that. Or have that type of support."

He laughs briefly, "I don't like how you're so understanding about all of this."

"Why?" Logan doesn't know what to say, feeling he doesn't deserve this. Deserve you. However, Wade and Laura's words appear, telling him that he deserves this. To be happy. "I like you, Logan. Shouldn't I be a little understanding?"

"You should." He gazes at you, seeing your eyes fill with care. "I like you too." Logan's fingers curl around the belt loops of your jeans to pull you closer, your body flushed against his. He submerges himself in you, his forehead amongst yours, the tips of your noses brushing along one another.

"Just tell me to stop."

You don't say anything, giving him permission to kiss you.

Immediately, Logan groans against your lips. He's finally able to taste you. And how denied he's been for so long. He presses you against the vanity, your hands forming a death grip on his shirt. You've been desperate for this as much as he's been. You just had better self control.

Logan takes over, placing you on the vanity. He grunts in satisfaction as your legs wrap around his waist. Your tongue is in his mouth, and you taste the cigar he had earlier. Your light moan is the only thing he focuses on, his hand on your lower back and pressing your body closer to his.

"Mm!" You hum when pulling away, your lips forming a cute pout that Logan held back in kissing you again. "I'm a bit rusty."

"At kissing?"

You nod, "That and…you know."

Logan chuckles, his nose brushing against yours. "I don't know. You're gonna have to say it, sweetheart."

"Sex." You whisper like it was a secret, "I know it's surprising for someone in their forties."

"It's more surprising when you look like this…" Logan gropes your thighs, burying his face in your neck. His eyes almost roll back in smelling you, wanting to do so for a while. "It's been a while for me too."

"Really?" You gasp, but that was because he gently nibbling on your neck. "I thought you would-" You're cut off when Logan sucks on your skin, creating a dark mark that causes you to squeeze your thighs against him.

Logan freezes, getting a whiff of something new. Straight down to your core. He growls at smell of your arousal and pulls you closer if possible.

"You should close early."

He allows you enough room to check your clock on the wall. "We've got thirty minutes left."

"I don't know if I can hold on for that long." Logan's lips are on you again, not wanting to forget how you taste. He's not sure why he's like this. Maybe it's because he finally confessed to you. Or because you liked him back. Or because he's finally getting his libido back after a long time. He knows he'll fuck you in the salon if you keep stalling.

You pull away again, trying to catch your breath from his kisses. "Okay, okay. Closing early wouldn't hurt."

Logan wanted to carry you. His stomach twisted when you had to part when you were closing up. He was by your side the entire time, wanting to at least keep ahold of that intoxicating smell you were radiating. A light grope to your ass that made you giggle. An arm around your waist once you finally locked the door. Anything to be close to you.

The two of you were speed-walking to your apartment. Logan's palm pressed against your stomach, face against your head while you tried to unlock the door. Having a hard time as he was humping against your plump bottom. Clearly showing you how aroused he was.

You stumbled forward once the door opened but he caught you with his arm. Your back was pressed against the door when you two made out again. Tongues dancing, nipping at each other's lips. His jacket fell to the floor before picking you up, trapping you against the door.

"Wait…" You pull away again.

Logan starts getting concerned, "What's wrong? We going too fast or something?"

"No! No, not at all. I'm worried that my condoms might be expired."

He gets a moment of clarity. He didn't bring any. Logan honestly didn't think his night with you would lead to this. Now, he was underprepared.

"Fuck, I don't think I bought any-" While searching his pants, he feels a wrapper. Logan pulls it out to see a condom in his back pocket with a sticky note. It was filled with a little drawing of Wade's Deadpool persona sending him a bunch of hearts.

'Go get 'em, tiger.'

He'll need to thank Wade later.

"We're good. Where's the bedroom?" You point down the hall and he carries you there, all while you pepper his hair with kisses.

Logan lies you down on your comforter before raising your arms. He pulls off your shirt and gets a glimpse of your sports bra. He swears he gets harder when removing your shoes, then your jeans. You maneuver to take off his shirt as he kicks his boots away. Your hands unbutton his jeans while he kisses you for the hundredth time.

He wasn't sure what you were worried about as everything about you was making his cock form an imprint against his boxers. If anything, Logan wasn't sure about himself when you went to rub him and he almost keeled over.

"Keep doing that and I won't last."

Logan pushes you flat on the bed, covering your skin with kisses. Your neck, collarbone, the tops of your breasts. You raise the sports bra over your head and Logan can't stop staring.

Your breasts were so perfect, sitting pretty just for him. He takes a moment to admire you. A fingertip grazed your nipple, causing you to jerk a little. His eyes scan to your soft stomach, adorned with stretch marks. And your black panties that covered up the place he was excited to get to the most.

"All of this for me?"

"It can be…" You spread your legs wider, inviting him in. Logan fits in between your legs and leans down to suckle your breasts. Running his tongue all over the areola and nipple. Rolling your other nipple with his thumb, reveling the sweet sounds you made. Your hands gripping his hair as your arousal was getting stronger.

Logan groans against your skin before trailing kisses down to your tummy, across your navel, and hovering above your underwear. He almost drools when removing your panties. The smell getting stronger once the piece of fabric was gone.

"F-Fuck…" He shudders, "You smell so fucking good."

"You can smell me?" You question but he doesn't answer. Logan parts your legs wider, one leg over his shoulder. His palm takes its place on your stomach when he dives in. Oh, he wants the taste of you seared in his mind. He groans as his tongue flattens against your clit, licking that sensitive bud with a purpose. Burying his face in your pussy.

"Logan…" You sigh his name in a mix of your sounds of pleasure. While he flicks your bud, a finger goes inside you. And he feels how wet you are. How easily you're taking him in.

He adds another finger, and you squirm, but he makes sure you don't move away. He wants you to take it, to take all that he has to offer.

Logan picks up the pace in eating you out and fucking you with his fingers. All while your whines become constant and your body starts moving more and more. Even with his enhanced strength, its getting difficult to hold you down.

"Ohh Logan, I'm-" Your panting gets heavier, and he smells the sweat on you. Logan keeps going, alternating between sucking on your clit and pumping into you. You try to warn him about your climax but it was too late when you scream for him. Filling up the entire bedroom with your arousing sounds.

Logan sits up, watching you bask in the bliss of your ecstasy. Your eyelashes fluttered while you catch your breath. He can't hold back anymore. He needs you now.

"You did so good for me, honey." He breathes out, pulling off his boxers. Your eyes widened at the sight of his girthy cock. A few veins along the shaft, his tip beading with pre cum. Logan's chest swelling with pride as you couldn't stop staring. "You ready?"

"Yes."

He does his best not to tear the condom, sliding it on his shaft. Logan hovers above you, wanting a clear view when he enters you. Your mouth gapes, and his brows furrow, watching himself disappear inside you. You fit him perfectly. He puts his head back to keep control. Just entering you was enough to make him want to come right there.

"You feel fantastic. Oh fuck…"

Logan grips your thigh when he moves his hips, enough to almost be out of you before sinking into you again. His pace consisted of slow but rough thrusts as he watches your breasts jiggle during each moment. Your face was there but not there as you took his thrusts. Being fucked out of your mind.

He loves how he's easily he's able to slip in and out of you due to your wetness. Obsessed with how he's handling you. He leans down on his elbows, hitting a much better spot that makes you gasp. Immediately, you grip the nape of his neck, moaning in his ear.

"Oh, right there!"

Logan moves his hand to your ass, lifting you up a bit more to get a better angle. You cry out for him, and he knows your throat will be sore in the morning. He ruts into you, growling and grunting as he's getting close. His pelvis rubbing against your clit was enough to push you over the edge once more. Your cunt squeezing around his cock just right. And made Logan almost tear your sheets the way he climaxed.

His groans fill your ears, cum filling the condom. It was so much that he wondered if it was about to overflow.

Logan rolled over next to you, chest heaving in tandem with yours. He wanted to say a lot of things, wondering what this would mean for his relationship with you. But you curled up beside him, a gentle hand on his chest. Gazing at him with your signature warm eyes.

"I hope my neighbors don't complain tomorrow."

"If they do," Logan unsheathes his claws, and you stare at them in awe, "I'll scare them with these."

[literaila]

the tour

tasm!peter x gn!reader 

summary: 

"...and this is where i slipped on that ice and got that bruise that went all the way down my back and turned green before it healed--"

"ugh, peter, don't bring that up."

warnings: fluff, it’s literally only banter because i forgot what the point of this was, catch the psych references, teasing 

a/n: you’re welcome, shawn spencer 

*

peter made you put on this jacket. 

the jacket which is, at the current moment, inhibiting every single one of your senses. 

your arms are locked in the puffy material, and when you try and turn, your whole body must follow to make it possible. your eyes and ears are covered by the hood--overbearing and completely unnecessary--causing you to only hear the static of the material every time you shake your head, and to only see blimp gestures of light. peter when he waves a hand in front of your face. 

because, as previously mentioned, you can't see nor hear and he hasn't quite caught up to that fact. 

oh, and, of course, he zipped it all the way up so you're snacking on some metal which you're hoping is the zipper. 

"where are you?" peter is asking as he pulls the hood away from your head, giving you just a brief moment of fresh air. 

you just grumble, trying to push it off of your head. 

"c'mon, you're gonna get cold." 

"it is literally forty degrees out here," you say, between mouthfuls of polyester. 

peter is smiling--indicated only by the slight snicker he makes as he unzips your jacket. 

and then you can actually see his grin, his silver-lined eyes. 

"it's winter," peter insists, pulling your hood back up. "let's not take the risk." 

"i'm going to suffocate in here." 

"don't worry, i know cpr." 

"how long did it take you to come up with that line?" you ask him, rolling your eyes. 

peter is teasing you. 

you're looking up at him, he's leaning over you, a mere inch away, when you slide your hand to the zipper--pushing his out of the way--and pull it the rest of the way down. 

and then, as you take off the jacket, you definitely do not hit peter with the sleeves. 

"there," you say, smiling. "that's better." 

you're in a t-shirt. 

"you're going to freeze." 

"i choose that over asphyxiation." 

peter throws his head back, and then swings an arm around you, almost burying you in his skin. 

but he's awfully warm. and he smells like soap, and some scent of deodorant you probably bought for him. 

so, clearly, you try and push yourself away from him. 

"why didn't you choose a different jacket?" peter asks you, not even budging when you push at his chest--sometimes you forget how strong he is, if only for his cowardly lion tendances. 

"um," you say, offended and under his arm, looking up at him. "i distinctly recall someone demanding that he 'picked out my wardrobe for the evening.'" 

peter doesn't mind the air quotes you're making near his stomach. 

"i didn't say it like that," peter claims, frowning at you. his eyes are very close to yours. 

he has this fake intimidation tactic he likes to try out every time you mess with him. unfortunately, he looks more like a child throwing a tantrum when he furrows his eyebrows like that, with little crinkles on the side of his forehead. 

and also his eyes are always a bit too bright. 

"you really did. you even had the accent." 

"this is a surprise," peter reminds you, "which is why i decided what you're wearing." 

"you chose the jacket at the very back of my closet, peter." 

he shakes his head. "if you don't want to wear it, then why do you own it?" 

"it's for smothering people." 

speaking of that, you pull the jacket up to his face, laughing when he begins to cough, and finally escape his hold. 

you leave him with the jacket, cringing and glaring. 

"this smells like mothballs." 

"i think there's a mouse in the pocket." 

peter opens his mouth, looking down at the jacket, then back to you. 

he doesn't say anything. 

and you laugh--you smile at him like a child, like a little kid getting to play with their favorite toy. you turn away from him and start walking again. 

"you're such a gentleman," you say, as peter catches up. "holding my jacket and everything." 

"you forgot the part where i tried to prevent your death." 

you tsk. "if you were so worried about me being cold, why didn't we do this earlier today? you know, when the sun was out?" 

peter shakes his head. "it's not the same." 

"and by 'it's,'" you repeat, leaning into him, "you mean...?" 

and then peter smiles, a reflection of yours, another child desperate for the warmth of someones love. another kid that's just happy to be there. 

you blink and take a deep breath in, trying not to look away. 

"the tour," peter says, simply, and looks away for you, but slings his arm around your shoulder and trips along with you. 

"of what?" 

"new york," peter scoffs, because obviously. 

and you're about to question him, but then you bump into another couple, and peter begins to apologize for the both of you. 

he also starts a ten-minute conversation with these strangers. 

*

"well, they were nice," peter says, as he locks his hand with yours and obnoxiously swings your arms around. 

but his hand is warm, and he's still carrying your jacket, so you'll give him this. 

"you did that on purpose," you retort, snorting. 

"did what? be nice?" 

"changing the subject so you didn't have to explain any more of your brilliant plan." 

"okay, first of all," peter says, looking at you through his peripherals. "if you hadn't bumped into sarah we wouldn't have had to stop in the first place--" 

"--maybe if you were better at actually guiding this so-called 'tour--'" 

"and second of all, it's still a surprise. i'm not telling you anything." 

"i think that counts as kidnapping." 

peter rolls his eyes. "not when the person you're kidnapping still has a bruise from the hickey you left a week ago when--" 

you push his shoulder. "i get the point." 

"are you sure? cause i can keep proving it." 

"just lead the way, peter," 

he's still smiling. and you're still pursing your lips, searching for some string to tie them together. 

"of course, sweetheart," he says, "follow me." 

*

"...and this is where i slipped on that ice and got that bruise that went all the way down my back and turned green before it healed--" 

"ugh, peter, don't bring that up." 

he grins. "and you rubbed some type of lotion on my back before we went to bed, trying to pretend like you hated every moment of it--" 

"that was literally bruise cream." 

peter shakes his head, he's looking away from you but smiling fondly at the ground. "good times."

"you falling and almost getting a concussion is a fond memory?" 

"my head wasn't even near the ground." 

"are you sure?" 

peter gives you a blank stare. 

"'cause you have been acting different since then, a little bit weirder, maybe even more reckless--" 

and then peter digs a finger into your side, stepping behind you so he can get a better grip to trap you in his arms. 

"mhmm," peter whispers, breath on your ear. "keep going." 

"don't--peter, i swear--" you squirm as he tickles you, trying to get away from him. 

"no, really, i'm listening, baby. you're voicing some obvious concerns, and i'm all ears."

"and hands!" you say, leaning your head back in an attempt to headbutt him. 

but peter moves back with you, and when your eyes open, you're looking at a brilliant grin and two very cruel eyes. "oh, hey," he says, moving his hand--finally--so he can keep you there. 

"i don't appreciate you doing this in public." 

"there's no one here." 

"correction--i don't appreciate you doing that ever." 

"you were laughing," peter assures you, rubbing a hand up and down your shoulders, pretending to comfort you. 

"i was screaming for help," you argue, "there's a difference." 

"well, if you weren't such a smart ass--" 

"me?" 

*

"i think you should come with a warning," you say to peter, watching him sip at the boba you just bought for him. 

"hmm?" 

his hair is messy and his cheeks are red. his mouth is its own threat, with its smooth and intoxicating manner, the ability to steal the breath from your lips, and your chest, and attack you until you can feel nothing but his name in your mouth, on your skin. 

all in all, you have to look away. 

"like some kind of user discretion. 'warning: will eat all your snacks and cling on to you like some type of kola.'" 

peter continues sipping, just staring at you. his brows are raised and his nose is crinkled. 

he is too calm and collected and you kind of want to jump into his arms and steal all of his warmth. 

"'likes to wake you up in the morning by biting on your nose, and lays at your feet while you're trying to get work done.'" 

"are you describing a cat?" 

you scoff, hand to your chest. "peter, i would never insult the feline species like that." 

"do you want a sip?" he asks, nonchalantly. 

"where are we going?" 

"well, you wanted drinks, so we're off course." 

"you wanted drinks. you said that it was ignorant of me to not treat dehydration as a serious condition--" 

"i've heard it both ways." 

you pout, tilting your head up at him. 

"ah, don't do that," peter complains, rubbing his eyes. 

"do what?" 

"make that face." 

"i'm not sure what you're talking about," you say, grabbing his hand so you can wrap it around your waist, and nuzzle into his shoulder. 

"is this because i got the popping boba instead of the tapioca?" 

"no--but that is an offense i will deal with later."

peter sighs. 

you're still looking at him, attempting to keep your face as smooth and innocent as possible. 

"okay," peter relents, "what do you want?" 

you feign confusion. "i don't want anything," but as you say it, you look over to the flashing lights you can see in the corner of your eye. 

then you look back to peter, and you smile at him, teeth white, eyes wide. 

"what was that?" 

"what was what?" 

"that look. that suspicious look over like i wouldn't notice you staring at the--" 

and then peter groans, and he slouches towards the groan. 

"what?" you ask him. "see something strange?" 

"why are you so mean to me?" 

"not sure what you mean, but it might be the strange curve of your nose. it's a bit alarming." 

"if you want pretzels," peter says, almost scolding you, "you just have to ask." 

"but you'll say no." 

"yeah, because that guy hates me. and coincidently--" 

"--he loves me." 

peter sighs into you. "can't we go somewhere else?" 

"peter, it wouldn't be a proper date without stopping by to see the pretzel guy. and maybe flirt a little." 

peter glares. "his name is paul and he's very unpleasant." 

"to you, maybe." 

"do we have to?" 

"you're telling me that you don't want one of paul's famous pretzels?" 

"...no?" 

you smile at him, ruffling his hair. "c'mon, pumpkin, maybe he'll give you his number on the receipt this time." 

and, although with a huff, peter follows you, holding onto your hand.

*

after an entire night of walking around, getting lost around corners that you've definitely never seen before, and watching peter struggle with the stem of the cherry from your sundae, swearing he can tie it--he begins to walk the two of you home. 

any other night, you might ask him to swing you both there. you might whisper in his ear until he slings you over his shoulder and you're breathless when he pushes the both of you through the window to your bedroom. 

but tonight, you and peter have deigned to freeze to the bone. 

you're walking towards your complex, toes gone and nose twitching, but peter is holding onto you, his hair is tickling your ear, and you've got a hand under his shirt. 

so, honestly, it's not that bad. 

"how'd you like your tour of new york?" peter asks you, after a couple of minutes of silence. 

"you know i live here, right?" 

peter leans forward, eyes wide. "what?" 

you roll your eyes at him and pull him back down so you can lean against his chest again. 

"you had fun though?" 

"it was okay. paul makes everything worth it." 

"paul is going to mysteriously disappear one day, and we'll have to find a new pretzel cart." 

you point a finger at him, frowning. "bad, peter. don't threaten people behind their backs." 

"hear me out," peter continues, "paul accidentally gets three of his wheels stolen during a bank robbery... probably sometime around next week." 

"he can buy new tires." 

peter looks up--which is good, because he can't see you grinning at him--and then nods. "okay, new plan, we buy all of the available yeast in new york." 

"and do what?" 

peter shrugs. "does it matter?" 

"yes." 

"fine, we'll start a bakery." 

"all of this so that paul can't continue to practice his pretzel business?" 

"do you have any better ideas on how to teach paul some boundaries?" 

"give me some one-on-one time with him," you tease, whispering  it on peter's jaw. "we'll figure it out." 

peter leans back. "that's not funny." 

"it is a little." 

"it's really not," he says, staring at you until you break, and you're both grinning at each other again. 

you can barely feel your mouth, chest constricting every time peter blinks, and aren't quite sure where you are anymore. 

but you're glad you asked him if you could walk home. 

peter leans down, his nose against yours, his breath making you shiver. "thank you for coming," he says. 

you can feel it. 

"thanks for carrying my jacket," you return. 

"you owe me," peter breathes. 

you lean back, just so you can open your eyes and look at him, taste his mouth without moving forward. "how's a kiss?" you ask him. 

and peter tries to hide his grin. there's a beat of silence where he pretends to consider your offer. "i suppose that's alright." 

and when you kiss him, it's with freezing blue lips and a smile that has been pulled onto your face. 

and you can't stop smiling, even when peter leans your head back, causing you to go on your tip-toes to reach him. 

even when he spews his poisonous breath into your mouth. 

even when you feel his jaw clattering against yours. 

and you're smiling when you pull away. 

"good?" you ask him. 

"mmm, you might have to keep trying."

you laugh and kiss his cheek. "c'mon, baby, pick up the pace." 

"got big plans?" peter asks you, pulling you into him again as he begins to walk. 

"i have my own tour for you when we get home." 

and peter almost starts running.

*

my masterlist here.

tags:@moonlarking-blog @v1ci0us @preciousbabypeter @alexxavicry @directioner5life @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @localrockstargf  @thestudiouswanderer @take-my-hand-time-boy @thoughtsofagodlovingsunflower @nyomjoon  @moo-b1tch​ @raindropstearsandtea @rqmanoff​ @hollandweather​ @wetcoldnoodle @urlocalavenderhazestan​ @valvlry​ @imthatcoolmom​ @spideysimpossiblegirl​    invisibletrolleyson-jeremy  @sharkswaters  

[sweetlikehoneystingslikeabee]

What do you think each of the Gotham rogues smell like?

"Smells and Scents" Rogues Party

For the sake of my own fun, I'm going to put what they actually smell like vs. what a perfume based on them would smell like. Please note I am in 0 way an expert on what pairs well for scents, so some of these might actually be terrible LMAO.

TW: None

Riddler

Actually smells like: Motor oil/grease, whatever take out or food he managed to cook, and, if he's been working long hours, body odor.

Perfume: fresh apples, matcha and narcissus.

Penguin

Actually smells like: He wears a woodsy smelling aftershave. On good days, he smells like that and and freshly cleaned laundry. On particularly bad days, he will actually smell like fish he's eaten.

Perfume: Seawater, amber and cigars.

Mad Hatter

Actually smells like: various plants and herbs he uses to make his concoctions with a chemical undertone.

Perfume: Black tea and freshly made biscuits. Faint hint of hookah smoke.

Scarecrow

Actually smells like: Sterility- chemicals used for his practice and disinfectant. Another subtle vague scent difficult to pick up... it's fear toxin.

Perfume: Dried funeral flowers, moss, anise.

Music Meister

Actually smells like: Mothballs and antiques. Theater kid smell.

Perfume: Strawberry lemonade and cedar wood.

Victor Zsasz

Actually smells like: Sweat, dried blood and sometimes the rubbing alcohol that he threw on a fresh cut or wound.

Perfume: Leather and blood oranges.

Killer Croc

Actually smells like: Better than before. There was a time he'd straight up smell like sewer because it was easier to travel down there instead of risking people seeing him. These days he has a eucalyptus body wash he really likes.

Perfume: Mustard seed and tea tree oil.

Harley Quinn

Actually smells like: the smell of cosmetic face powder and whatever body spray she threw on that day. There's multiple and several are sweet/food smells like vanilla.

Perfume: Raspberries, lychee, and fresh custard cream.

Poison Ivy

Actually smells like: Her pheromones, a flower bouquet and fresh dirt.

Perfume: Ivy, lily of the valley and rosewood.

Two-Face

Actually smells like: gunpowder, steam pressed suits and a sage scented cologne.

Perfume: dark chocolate, tobacco and clementines.

Black Mask

Actually smells like: Some fancy, stupid expensive cologne that he'll dab on his neck when he's been working for 48 hours. Doesn't overdo it, so there's that at least.

Perfume: Dark roast coffee beans and bourbon.

Mr. Freeze

Actually smells like: Nothing. He doesn't even smell like sweat because all bacteria on his body is long dead. Sometimes you can smell the coolant if there is a small leak somewhere.

Perfume: pine, bergamot and fresh snow.

Ra's al-Ghul

Actually smells like: A plant that's long been extinct. He revitalizes the petals for personal use and they are washed in his clothing.

Perfume: Jasmine, parchment and dragon's blood resin.

Bane

Actually smells like: On a good day- it's dove soap bars and leather. On a bad day, he smells like gym mat.

Perfume: myrrh and sandlewood.

[batrachised]

Chapter 3 is very much the counterpart to the dinner party chapter of the blue castle for Valancy (or at least the beginning). What I love about Emily is that even though as I've discussed with some people on here, she's not really a "chum" in the same way Anne was, you get a strong sense of her personality from these first few pages. She's extremely precocious, unused to traditional society, and what's more, she's going to let you know that.

LM Montgomery's ability to characterize in a line is on full display here. Aunt Ruth sounds like she'd smell of mothballs, and Cousin Jimmy has the same fantasy language used to describe emily (rosy, elfish face) - we already know who is going to be a friend, and who is not.

I absolutely love all of Emily's snapbacks in these chapters. They usually aren't mean - they're not the "you fat thing of no importance," which is the Douglas Starr level of withering take-down - but they are still devastating for the target. Emily doesn't sell her kisses, and she pities Aunt Ruth, and all and all, even though she has never met these people before, she has most of them clocked from the get go. It's not just setting up for the plot drama - it's also demonstrating that Emily has the sense of a writer, and it's very strong for her age.

[siriuslyshewrote]

𝐃𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 - 𝐒.𝐁

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2,498

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You are given a detention with the rather annoying Sirius Black. Pure fluff, basically.

Sirius Black was somewhat of an enigma to you. The two of you had always been rather distinctly aware of one another, coming from the same social background, going to the same functions and balls growing up, and yet, if you truly thought about it, you weren't so sure that you had spoken more than three or four offhand sentences to the boy your entire life. Though you went to the same school, even, the year between the two of you, and the fact you wore the colours green and silver, put you much closer to his younger brother Regulus.

You weren't so sure you were ever much more than a passing thought to him, and with his visible and growing disdain for not only Slytherin, but pureblood society in general over the years you had learnt to actively avoid both he and his little gang of friends, lest you walk into another one of their ridiculous pranks. You wouldn't say you disliked the boy per say, but a certain wave of irritation rippled over you when you saw him - particularly after the prank he had pulled last year which had left you, and the rest of your dorm-mates with vivid, crimson red hair for several weeks, no matter how many potions and spells you tried to remove it with.

That was why, as you walked into detention on a cold, November night in your sixth year, you were most aggravated to see that the only two people in the room was Professor McGonnagal and the older Black boy. He was leaning back on his chair, twirling a quill in his fingers, looking thoroughly bored, and his stormy grey eyes immediately flickered to you as you rather ungracefully burst through the door of the Transfiguration classroom.

"Sorry," You turned to McGonnagal, pushing your windswept hair away from your face.

"Late again, Miss Y/L/N," She pursed her lips slightly, though there was a look of slight amusement in her eyes. "You are aware that is what your current detention is for, yes?"

Being late was somewhat of an unfortunate trademark of yours, and really it was the only thing your professors could fault you for, but your habit of absent-mindedness and forgetting the time had landed you in more detentions at your time in Hogwarts than you could count.

You placed your bag on the floor next to the desk which you assumed you were to take - the only one in the room with a thick stack of parchment upon, aside from Sirius'. He gave you a somewhat amused look as you sat down next to him, still twirling that blasted quill around his fingers.

"Sorry Professor," You mustered up an apologising look, though a small smile danced on your lips.

You knew that though it frustrated your professors to no end that you were always late, the majority of them were rather fond of you outside of that, due to the fact that you did always study rather profusely, even if you were prone to missing deadlines on occasion.

Professor McGonnagal made a small tutting noise, and your attention was drawn to a large box in her hands.

"As I was just telling Mr. Black here, I had already committed to helping out Professor Flitwick with some work this evening, so I will be leaving you with this task."

She pulled out a large pile of parchment from the box, dividing it and placing half on your desk, and half on the nearby desk of Sirius'. The parchment was looking rather worse for wear, some of the writing barely legible, and it had a smell rather like mothballs.

"The two of you will be transcribing these detention cards," She gestured towards them. "Onto new parchment. Perhaps whilst you do that, you can reflect on your own reasons for being in detention."

As she said this, she gave a rather severe look to Sirius, who gave her a cheeky grin, leaning further back in his chair. His hair was shorter than you had ever seen it now - barely grazing his jaw. He looked distinctly older, you thought, chastising yourself for even noticing such a thing.

"Once you have both worked through these, you can put them on my desk and go and enjoy your evenings," She said, walking back towards the front of the classroom, pausing at the door for a moment to glance back at the both of you. "And Mr Black, I do implore you to not receive any inspiration from these."

A small smile twitched your mouth as Sirius guffawed beside you.

"Can't make any promises, Professor," He overtly winked, and the older woman let out a sigh, before exiting the classroom.

You almost wished she would come back as the classroom dissolved into a silence. You pulled your quill and ink will from your bag, determined to work through this as quickly as possible so you could leave and return to your dormitory, and most importantly your warm and cozy bed, which you were quite sure would be warm with a hot water bottle supplied by the house elves.

Sirius' foot tapped none stop on the stone floor, as you pulled the large stack of parchment towards you, wrinkling your nose at the smell of it, and beginning to transcribe the first one, squinting at the faded handwriting. He had made no move to start his own work, unsurprisingly. Though you had no classes with the boy, you had the distinct feeling that he wasn't much of a hard worker, though you had no doubt he still got decent grades. He striked you as one of those people.

"You're friends with Regulus, yeah?" He said casually, breaking the silence.

You let out a small noise of recognition, eyes flickering to his for a small second, then back to your paper.

He didn't seem perturbed by your lack of talking, though you supposed Sirius was quite able to do enough talking of his own to fuel a whole conversation.

"Didn't put down a perfect Slytherin to get a detention." He remarked, a little venom in his words that he couldn't quite hide, though his tone was even.

"The more you know, huh." You replied sardonically, fixing him with a look of distaste. "Shame I can't say the same for you."

He let out a laugh at that, going to tuck his hair behind his ears before he seemed to remember it was slightly too short now, leaving his fingers dancing in mid-air for a moment, before moving them back to the desk and tapping at it absentmindedly.

"Don't suppose you fancy doing mine too?" He questioned with a grin, indicating towards the several cards you had already painstakingly transcribed.

There was something about his demeanour that made your lips curve up slightly, too.

"I'd rather go take a dip in the Great Lake, but nice try Black." You quipped, dipping your quill in your ink well again.

"Might be a nice sight," He joked, and you rolled your eyes.

"You know I don't think you've ever grown up at all. You are still just as annoying as I remember you used to be when we were little." You remarked offhandedly, that small smile still upturning your lips.

"And you are just as uptight." He grinned. "You're still the same little Y/L/N who used to turn up her nose at absolutely everyone."

You were slightly shocked he seemed to actually remember you - he always seemed rather dismissive of not only you, but everything and everyone from that part of his life.

"I'm surprised you actually took note of that. You were always so busy creating chaos I didn't think you noticed anything around you."

"You should be honoured then," He quipped.

You let out a small laugh at that.

"Get on with your work, Black. I'm not staying here all night because you don't get this finished." You told him, scribbling away at another detention card.

"The fact that you don't want to spend the night with me wounds me, Y/N." He clutched at his heart dramatically.

You pursed your lips at him, almost surprised at how much you wanted to laugh again. This was not how you expected your detention with him to go - you rather expected to be ripping out your hair in frustration by now. He was different to how he had been when you had interacted with him before. Nicer, almost, though still just as arrogant.

"Anyway," He said, pulling out his wand from his sleeve, of all places. "You don't have to sit here and write all of these. Simple spell, really."

He waved his wand over his quill, murmuring a few words you couldn't quite work out, before the quill jumped up quite by itself, dipped itself in the inkwell, and started scribbling down words so quick it was just a blur against the parchment.

He grinned as he saw your badly-concealed impressed look.

"Don't tell me you don't already know that spell," He said arrogantly.

You huffed at him, showing him your ink-stained fingers.

"Clearly not," You spoke tightly, irritated that he had bested you.

"I could show you," He mused. "Though it would be so much more fun to see you writing all of these out."

The magically moving quill had already worked through double the amount of parchment that you had.

You glowered at him.

"Black, I'm going to kill you." You threatened.

He pretended to think for a moment, and for those brief seconds you considered throttling him to wipe the smug look off his face.

"I'll help you. For a price." He finally said.

Your knuckles were slightly white as you gripped your quill a little bit tighter with annoyance.

"If you say anything suggestive right now, I'm going to stick this inkwell-"

He raised his hands in a mock surrender, laughing.

"Wasn't going to, though don't give me ideas," He winked. "I just need a very time-sensitive favour."

You sighed. "And what would that be?"

"I need to make a distraction," He paused to glance at his watch. "In about five minutes."

You glowered.

"If you think I'm going to help you with one of your stupid pranks, so help me-"

He shrugged, standing up, still grinning. You blinked up at him, not quite sure if it was just because you were sitting down, or if he really was a lot taller than you realised.

"I mean, if you want to stay here all night..."

You glanced back over to his quill, still scribbling away furiously. It had made it's way almost entirely through the pile of parchment, now. You looked back to your own ominously large pile, and let out a groan.

"Fine. I'll help. But if you get me another detention, I will personally hunt you down." You threatened.

He laughed again. That annoying damn laugh.

"Here," He said, pulling your quill from your hand, skin skimming your own. His skin was incredibly warm against your freezing hands, for a small second.

Again, he murmured those words, and immediately the quill jumped into action, scribbling away.

You gave him a look of thanks - though you refused to say it out loud, his ego simply didn't need any more of a boost, stretching your aching fingers.

"Come on," He said energetically, picking up your bag and swinging it over his shoulder, as if it was some insurance that you would come with him now.

You could simply go back to your common room, you supposed, now he had done what he had promised, but you didn't particularly fancy waking up to a very targeted revenge prank, and so, with a disgruntled sigh, you got up and followed him towards the door.

You didn't want to hang out with Sirius Black voluntarily, of course. At least, that was what you told yourself.

He glanced both ways down the corridor as you exited the classroom, probably looking for a sign that Professor McGonnagal was coming back, but the castle was quiet and empty, most students in their common rooms or dorms by now.

The wind whistled through the corridor, and you wrapped your robes tighter around yourself as you followed his rather quick pace through the school halls.

"This is probably the most rebellious thing you've done all year, huh, Y/L/N?" He whispered to you, eyes glinting with humour.

You shoved him slightly with your hip, only then realising how close the two of you were walking together.

"Until I know exactly what we are doing, I can't comment," You whispered back. "Though I doubt it. I'm not some prude, you know."

"I didn't know Slytherin's were allowed to have fun," He murmured back, smiling.

You flipped him off with a mock scowl.

He walked a very specifically pureblood way, even now, you realised - straight backed - in a way that you could balance books upon his head and they wouldn't tip or fall.

He threw out an arm, suddenly, stopping you in your tracks, looking surreptitiously around a corner. You paused behind him for a moment, so close you could smell the cologne he was wearing. Sandalwood, and maybe lemon, you thought for a moment, before shaking your head and realising how insane you were being for even contemplating such a thing.

He gave a thumbs up to whoever he could see around the corner - who you assumed were the other members of his little group, pulling a small parcel out of his bag.

"I'd cover your nose," He remarked to you, before, with remarkably good aim, launching said parcel half-way down the corridor.

With a loud bang, a cloud of smoke appeared, and you immediately regretted not taking his advice as the smell hit you.

Stink-bombs.

Your eyes watered as the putrid smell that could only be compared to sewerage hit you, as the smoke filled the corridor and made it almost impossible to see anything.

"What the-" You heard the piercing shriek of the caretaker, Argus Filch, as well as the sound of a slamming door.

A warm hand grabbed yours, fingers interlinking, pulling you into a run, and you had no choice to follow, to attempt to get away from the horrific cloud of stench that had invaded the entire corridor.

Your eyes were streaming as your free hand covered your nose.

"I can see you, you little toerags!" You head the caretakers croaking shout, and you couldn't help but let out a small laugh at that, adrenaline pumping through you as Sirius dragged you down another corridor.

"Down here," He panted, pushing aside a tapestry you walked past nearly every day towards the Great Hall.

To your greatest surprise, there wasn't simply a wall, but a small narrow entryway, though you had no time to marvel at it before you were tugged behind it, the tapestry falling back into place again, plunging you into darkness.

"Where are you, you little blighters!" Filch screeched, and his voice was so loud he must have only been footsteps from your hiding place.

A palm covered your mouth, and you were suddenly all too aware of how close you were to Sirius Black. He was stood directly behind you - you were so tightly pressed against him that you could feel the thumping of his heartbeat through his chest, and the realisation of this made a blush come to your cheeks, though you were completely unsure of why.

Filch's footsteps faded away, and Sirius let go of you slightly, allowing you to turn around and face him, though you could barely see him in the dim light, only enough to be aware that your faces were oddly close.

He let out a guffaw, as you poked him in the chest, and this set you off into your own peal of laughter.

"You... idiot!" You exclaimed. "You could have given me a bit of warning on what you were going to do!"

Though you couldn't see it, you could sense the grin on his face.

"Ah, but then I wouldn't have seen that beautiful look of horror on your face, Y/N."

Your laughs quietened down a little, though your heart was still racing - from the running, you told yourself.

"You know, for you, stink-bombs is a very basic prank." You poked fun at him.

"You think I would just settle for stink bombs?" He scoffed as if you had insulted his intelligence deeply. "They were just a distraction, love."

You pretended not to hear the nickname that slipped so easily off his tongue.

"I apologise, Black. Didn't mean to underestimate you," You quipped, tilting your face up to grin at him, before realising how close that put the two of your faces.

Your face flushed even more.

"I forgive you" He breathed, and you felt it on your face, goosebumps erupting on your skin.

Your heart began to thrum in your ears, and you were suddenly aware he had never let go of your hand. His fingers were squeezing yours. He moved closer, just slightly, and it was the first time all evening he had been silent for longer than a few seconds.

And that was the moment when the tapestry was suddenly ripped back theatrically, and the two of you jumped apart like deer caught in headlights - to look around and see the positively volcanic expression upon Argus Filch's face.

Getting detention every night for the next several weeks would have usually been enough for you to want to take a trip to see the Giant Squid, but somehow, with Sirius Black by your side, you doubted they would be anything less than ... interesting.

Authors Note: I hope you guys enjoyed this! As ever, my requests are open, and feel free to use my prompt list for some ideas on what to request!

[antikate]

Blankets (the truth is out there)

I used to sleep under old woollen army blankets in the winter. I don’t know where they came from, but they’d appear sometime after Easter, brown with a grey stripe, and so damn heavy; heavy as lead, heavy as grave-dirt. Despite their weight, one of these blankets wasn’t quite warm enough, nor was two even, and when it was very cold my mother would pile up three or four of them until I could barely move my childish limbs beneath the weight. I liked the way they pressed me down into my old mattress, except for my feet. The arches ached, sometimes, from the pressure of the pile of woollen army blankets.

Sometimes I stuck my feet out over the side of the bed, but then I was afraid something — probably an alien — would grab my feet, so I suffered through the discomfort of the weight on my feet as best I could. Sore feet beat being abducted by grey-faced, black-eyed aliens.

I was very afraid of aliens, after accidentally watching a tv show about abductees.

I spent hours in the mirror checking my skin for signs that I’d been abducted and experimented on. Strange birthmarks, new injuries, odd lumps.

I never found anything beyond a few moles and mundane scars. I never lost time, although now there’s whole stretches of those years I barely recall at all. Not because they were bad, exactly, just that childhood goes like that. It slips away.

I was so scared of being abducted by aliens. But I also always wanted it to happen.

(If I was abducted by aliens, maybe it would explain what was wrong with me.)

The texture of the woolllen army blankets was unbearable—more like sandpaper than a blanket should be. Like sleeping under a sheep lost in the bush for a few years, all burr-snarled and fly-blown. That was what love was like in my family. The intent was there, but it was too heavy and not heavy enough. Rough, but you had to be grateful for what you got. Some people had no blankets at all.

I folded the sheet down over the top-most woollen blanket to keep it from touching any part of my skin. But touching was inevitable, and always distressing.

The worst thing about the blankets, though, was the smell of moth-balls.

The smell was awful, chemical and pungent. Like my Nan’s closet. Like the op-shop. And it heralded the coming of asthma season, when I caught every cold and flu going around, when my lungs collapsed and constricted, and every inhale I made sounded like a rusty old gate swinging in a feeble wind.

(When I was sick, my father would get out a green Tupperware bowl and fill it with boiling water and eucalyptus oil, and force me to hold my head over the steam while I cried, because I hated the smell and it never made me feel better.

Once, I threw up in the bowl. I don’t think he made me do it again.)

As an adult I learned that moth balls were made from naphthalene, and naphthalene is known to trigger asthma, among other health issues. They’re probably carcinogenic. By then the old woollen army blankets had become a feast for carpet moths anyway, more hole than wool by the end. And we don’t use much wool any more — everything is made of plastic now, and the moths starve.

I am trying to explain to you now that I feel like this.

I feel threadbare and abrasive, that I carry with me the smell of mothballs, that I’m too thin but too heavy. I feel like an old woollen army blanket, I think, as I stuff the washing machine with goose-down duvets I spent too much money on. They’re so light they barely feel like you’re sleeping under anything at all.

I feel like I’m more hole than wool, some days.

(And I’m still half scared and half hopeful that I’m going to be abducted by aliens. Maybe then I’ll know what’s wrong with me.)

[ameagrice]

Capsize

percy jackson x fem reader

chapter twenty-two | here we go again

“To be honest, I think someone should just toss this woman out a window, now. Her hair’s past the point of conditioning.”

Percy looked at you ludicrously. “She’s right here.”

You’d been volunteered to take the Oracle back up to the Big House with Percy. Up close, the creepy feelings intensified. You’d have thought that after making her way down to the creek she’d have had the decency to go back on her own. But no. And here you were, gasping for breath as you walked up the stairs backwards.

“Stop pushing so much,” you grunted, heels hitting the steps. “I’m gonna lose my balance.”

“Well my arms hurt, so hurry up.”

“Men have no patience,” you grumbled. Percy shot a look at you. “You don’t! My dad’s the same. Wants things doing instantly and quickly when it just isn’t realistic.”

Percy groaned. “Seriously, B, my arms are about to drop off, here.”

“If you push me anymore I’m gonna fall and get a concussion. Or amnesia. You know how easy it is to get amnesia? At least seventy percent of people with a brain injury get it.”

“Did you eat a textbook for breakfast?” He teased.

“Did you eat some nerve?”

“You’re quick today.”

“As opposed to every other day?” A smile made its way to the corner of your mouth. This kind of bantering with Percy always improved your mood.

“Come on,” he said, ducking his head for a second. “Let’s just get her upstairs. She smells of mothballs.”

“That’ll be the decay.”

“You’re disgusting.”

After Percy hit her head off the wall—and you breathed in the dust—you made it upstairs.

You set the Oracle down in her place by the window. Up here, now she was frozen again in place, you couldn’t help but feel a little sorry. You’d hate to be stuck up here like this, only wanted when someone needed something. It wasn’t a very fair fate.

Percy’s footfall sounded on the wooden floor. Dust particles floated in the light streaming in. On tables and shelves, all topped with thick dust, trophies, medals, pictures and weapons lay. One photograph in a worn, brown frame held an image of two girls smiling with their arms around one another’s shoulders, wearing war face paint, clothes reminiscent of the seventies. You picked it up and turned it over. The date read ‘73, last day of summer. A longsword lay on a bracket on the wall, engraved with words too dusty to see.

“What have you found?” You lifted your head. Percy was crouching, sifting through a box on the floor.

He dropped something heavy-sounding back in to the box. “Just junk. Let’s get out of here. This place is giving me the heebies.”

For good measure, just in case she had anything left to say, you clicked your fingers in front of the Oracle’s face. She didn’t even flinch.

“Sure. I’ve got a feeling she won’t be saying anything for a while.”

Percy slammed shut the attic door as you descended the stairs, waiting at the bottom.

“Well,” you said, as he started down. “Glad that’s over.”

Despite your light tone, Percy still looked bothered.

“I feel like that whole thing was for nothing,” he said, meeting you at the bottom. He shrugged his shoulders. “She skipped me and went straight to Zoe Nightshade. What will Chiron do?”

Percy lowered himself and sat on the stairs. You did the same. Over the summer, as uncomfortable as the thought made you, you’d grown a little bit in ways your stepmom said was just girl nature. It made your thigh press that little bit more against Percy’s than it might have done before the summer, and you were weirdly self-conscious about it. Barely noticeable, your stepmom told you honestly, but noticeable to you.

“I think,” you said, choosing your words carefully. “He’ll do what’s best now, and that is probably going to have to do with what Zoe was told. I think this prophecy will be his priority.”

You opened your mouth to say something else, but the sound of heavy, stomping footsteps on the stairs caught both yours and Percy’s attention. The source was Thalia.

She avoided looking at Percy altogether. “Tell Percy to get his butt downstairs.”

“Why?” Percy pulled a face.

“Did he say something?” Thalia asked you. Her icy eyes were firm.

“Uh—He said why.”

“Dionysus is calling a meeting of cabin leaders to discuss the prophecy. Unfortunately that includes Percy.”

With nothing much to do while the meeting went on, you went back to your cabin. Inside, Cora—who you’d grown closer to over the months you spent at camp—was staring into space with a calculator in her hands at the table in the middle of the room. Another of your siblings, a boy named Mitchel, was doing the same thing.

“Have you guys been hypnotised?” You eyed them, walking over to your bed.

“Can’t figure out what Z is…”

The free time you had now, offered a chance to think on things that had happened so far with the both of them, and where it had gotten you now. During Percy’s quest to get the Golden Fleece last year, your only friends in camp were Travis and, to an extent, Cora. You’d grown closer to both respectably. Without Percy, you had obviously given more time to a newfound friendship in Travis.

He didn’t disappoint. If you needed a pick-me-up? Travis didn’t have to try hard to make you laugh. He didn’t push the fact that you weren’t a touchy person—granted, he’d learned the hard way after a hand on your back was shrugged away instantly. You preferred initiating any sort of physical contact—high-fives; an elbow on the shoulder—not receiving. He respected it.

You appreciated that most of all.

Over the summer, you grew closer with both of them. And Percy recounted his tales from his most recent quest with Annabeth.

Which of course meant he was closer to Annabeth afterward. Of course she cursed his name to the sisters she was closest to in the cabin. Of course you felt a little left out—it was natural, wasn’t it?

Travis would call most nights. Percy would call in the afternoon once a week, at first, and then more in the evenings, working around time zones. After a close call with a four-headed snake while out one night, Iris Messaging became the new thing.

A little too much—Percy once caught you under a mountain of bubbles in the tub with a face mask on, and always called by phone, first, after that.

“You’ve got your thinking face on.”

You looked at Cora. You hadn’t seen her climb up the bunk ladder, but she leaned over the side anyhow, hair dangling.

“Am I that much of an open book?” you lay your actual book on your stomach.

Cora hummed. She’d dyed her long hair while you were gone, a stark difference to the bleached yellow of two years ago.

“It’s not necessarily a bad thing. Anyway, I’ve been meaning to tell you, Travis Stoll has been super loved up with you while you’ve been away in Aussie land.”

You sat up abruptly. “What?”

She grinned slyly. “I said what I said.”

“What are you talking about?”

She admired her nails, hanging upside down. “I’ll answer any questions for a dollar at a time. No more, no less.”

You looked blankly at her. “But you don’t need to pay for anything at camp. Answer the question.”

“I’ve stated my rules,” she said calmly. “Yes or no.”

“Fine! A dollar. What are you talking about?”

She grinned. “The boy’s been using up all his breath asking when you’re coming back to camp. I mean, I can’t even think of how many times he asked me the same question over and over. I think he was more worried you wouldn’t come back at all.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s loved up with me,” you rolled your eyes. “That’s a friend asking when I’ll be back.”

She huffed a laugh, shaking her head. “Alright,” she drawled. “Whatever helps you sleep at night. We all know you’re loved up with Percy.”

You side-eyed her. “And you know that…how?”

“I see all. Know all.”

“You’re a freak.”

“We were literally born from the brain of mom. We’re both freaks.”

You hummed. “That weirds me out.”

“It weirds me out,” she raised a brow at you. “And I’ve been here for five years. Trust me, it just gets weirder.”

—

Percy didn’t turn up for dinner.

“I wonder who’s going on the quest,” you said through a mouthful of food. “Nobody’s said anything.”

Cora nodded, sitting opposite. The table was empty besides the two of you, your siblings either at schools or home for the winter. A few tables down, Nico di Angelo was sitting with Connor and Travis, audibly chatting their ears off. The Ares table only had the two boys, and Demeter’s table only had Katie.

Percy’s table was empty.

It was cold out, and the sky was barely lit, just a dull, cloudy grey. The same golden balls of light that decorated the cabins lit the dinner tables, and some kind of magic kept the warmth inside the pavilion boundaries. Even so, you’d dressed for the occasion in a thick coat and jeans. While it was like this, you missed summer more than anything. It was too quiet. Too still. The calm would have been nice had the events from the Oracle not been hanging over you. You sighed, pushing your food around your plate.

“Maybe I should go find Percy,” you said, pushing your food around your plate. “I feel bad.”

Cora groaned. “Listen, he’s a boy; they do weird things like this. He’ll turn up when he’s ready. Nothing you can do about it.”

She had a point.

When finished, and the place began to practically empty, you both stood to leave. That was when Chiron called your name.

You turned expectantly, smiling politely. His brown eyes looked tired, and worried. “Could we talk?”

—

The leopard on the wall above the fireplace ate a sausage, and you watched it with wary eyes. It didn’t matter how many times you’d been in the Big House; it didn’t fail to shock you each time.

Mr. D. was flipping through a newspaper labelled Olympus Weekly! with a bored face. Occasionally he would raise his eyebrows, but they would fall back in place soon after.

“You are aware of the meeting held this afternoon, correct?” Chiron began.

You nodded, tucked into the arm of the sofa, hands warm under your thighs.

“Then you know what it was for. We called for campers and Hunters to unite, as the Oracle said, and join one another on the quest to find Artemis.”

You nodded along, listening carefully.

Chiron’s eyes rose from the wall to meet yours. “Zoe Nightshade visited me a night ago repeating a dream she had. Except, until this meeting, she left a part out. It was a part which involved you.”

Your mouth parted. “And what…what was I doing? In her dream?”

“She saw yourself and Bianca di Angelo walking together through a yard, talking. And so, we have decided that you are to be one of the half-bloods to take part in this quest.”

The fire crackled. Mr. D. closed his newspaper to watch the exchange between yourself and Chiron. And Chiron watched you.

“Oh.”

“Oh?” Mr. D. repeated. “That is all you have to say?”

“I’m not really sure what to say,” you side-eyed him. “I’ll go. I’d like to go. We can look for Annabeth too, can’t we, while we’re searching for Artemis?”

“We believe that while searching for Artemis, there’s a high chance Annabeth can be found too, yes.”

“Who else is going? Is Percy coming?”

Chiron hesitated. “We decided on yourself, Bianca, Zoe, Thalia and Grover. Percy…Percy and Thalia cannot work together. It would be a mistake to send them together.”

It should have made you happy to be wanted on a quest. It wasn’t every day that a demigod got the chance to leave camp and actually do something good and helpful. But Percy desperately wanted to go. He was desperate to look for Annabeth. And by agreeing to go, you felt like you were betraying him.

“When do we leave?”

“Early tomorrow morning.”

“When you find Artemis,” Mr. D. drawled, flicking open his newspaper again. “Tell her she’s caused a a complete and utter ruckus. She better not do this again.”

—

The walkway of the lake seemed like a good place for a goodbye.

You and Travis lay side-by-side again, like you did last night, except this time was a lot quieter. The gold balls of light filled you with not joy but melancholy, and Travis didn’t look at you.

“I didn’t want to leave and not say anything,” you mumbled. “Thought that would be mean.”

He hummed. But didn’t say anything.

There were no stars tonight.

Finally, his coat rustled, chocolate-coloured hair brushing the hood. “Just come back,” he said. “The prophecy says two might die. I don’t want that to be you.”

You shook your head. “It won’t be. I promise.”

He blinked, eyes on the sky. “Keep that promise.”

—

You stopped by Percy’s cabin on the way to yours. You were disappointed to find him not inside, bed still made and the lights off. You’d have to worry about him another time.

In your cabin, you quietly packed your bag again. Clothes, a spare pair of shoes, the essentials, and a small purse of money—both dollars and drachmas—and hoped that would be enough.

You climbed into bed, rolling over in the dark in your cold covers. Cora snored in the bunk above. The lights were out. You pulled the covers up to your chin, and was out like a light.

Taglist:

@bl6o6dy

@bl6o6dy @embersparklz @lilyevanswhore @rottenstyx @hawkeye12 @rory-cakes @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @marshmallow12435 @luckydragontriumph @lantsovheiress @distinguishedmakerpandapatrol @bugsys-bubble @twsssmlmaa @gayandfairycore @padsfirewhisky @emu281 @mrswang17 @jessiegerl

B

What do we think of this one, dudes? I properly re-wrote it three times, then had to get rid of it all and start again after four tries because nothing saved. This one has been a pain in the ass.

Taglist:

@bl6o6dy @embersparklz @lilyevanswhore @rottenstyx @hawkeye12 @rory-cakes @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @marshmallow12435 @lantsovheiress @luckydragontriumph @distinguishedmakerpandapatrol @bugsys-bubble @twsssmlmaa @gayandfairycore @padsfirewhisky @emu281 @mrswang17 @jessiegerl

[eatmekaneki]

Paradise Fallen

Chapter 3: The Safehouse

Chapter Summary: Gojo drops you off with Nanami at the safe house. You try and get to know the man meant to be your guardian angel. (Insert some joke about his emotions also being guarded as well)

Warnings/Tags(*for entire series): Graphic Violence, Smut, Angels and Demons au, Vampire!Getou, Angel!Gojo, Angel!Nanami, Demon!Toji, Fallen Angel!Choso, FMM threesomes, Poly relationships, dubcon, knifeplay, gun play,

“Solitude sometimes is best society.”- Paradise Lost

Nanami pulled the car into a long wooded drive that followed at least a half mile of nothingness until it hit the safe house. It was a small home trailer that seemed to be trying to pose as a cabin nestled back in the woods.

Paint chipped on the outside of its bluish gray coloring, painted too thin and leaving streaks.

It was mid day but it looked like evening with how dense the trees hung overhead here.

You hadn’t really pictured the safehouse being an actually little home. They’d told you it’d be an apartment in a different part of the city, and this was something entirely different.

You pulled out your cell phone to check for signal, not surprised to find yourself getting none.

You sighed and got out of the car after Nanami and Gojo had already stepped out.

Gojo was stretching his arms above his head. His shirt lifted slightly showing a bare inch of skin under the hem. You felt your breath catch in your throat at the sight.

He was so beautiful that angel was probably the only right word to suit him in looks.

Though he didn’t act like any angel you’d ever imagined would.

Yet, he didn’t have anyone to answer to anymore, maybe that changed things.

If god was dead and he had no one above him anymore, did that actually make Gojo the new god?

That title somehow suited him even more and less at the same time.

The two men ushered you into the house and you saw that the inside was just as unappealing as the exterior.

It had peeling white and blue flowered wallpaper over thin wood paneled walls and bright red carpet that looked like it hadn’t been changed since the 80’s.

There was a main living room you walked into with a plaid green and black couch near an old boxy television set. That room connected to a hallway leading to 3 doors; the two bedrooms and a small bathroom.

The kitchen was also attached to the main living area. Dark wooden cabinets that also hailed from a much older time were scuffed up and faded in spots. It wasn’t a large kitchen but you could imagine it working just fine for two people.

The whole place smelled like mothballs and old paper inside. But, surprisingly it wasn’t dirty. Someone must have come in and cleaned the place up for you.

Gojo showed you to the bedrooms. One had two twin sized beds and one had a larger queen bed.

Nanami offered to take the one with the twin beds but you insisted you were fine with the smaller bed. He didn’t argue.

A lot of your things seem to have already been dropped off. By who? You weren’t quite sure. Maybe the police, maybe more angels.

You did wonder if there were any more around the city or if it was just Gojo and Nanami here.

After staying for a little and getting you settled in, Gojo told you that he needed to leave. He had some important business to take care of early in the morning at a news station and didn’t want to stay out too late.

You walked him to the door, nervous to be left alone without him now. Not that he wasn’t much more of a stranger to you than Nanami at this point himself.

You trusted him though he scared you. Angels were supposed to be fierce and powerful, were they not? That didn’t make him less good.

If he trusted Nanami to watch you, you’d trust him too.

“I’ll see you tomorrow evening. I’ll stop by again for dinner and to tell you if there’s any news on our guys.” Gojo smiled another heart melting smile on his way out the door.

“That sounds good…” you replied, wanting to say more, wanting to keep him longer but not sure why, or what to say.

“Gojo?” You called out, he’d started to walk away back towards the car, but turned around quickly when he heard you. Blue eyes were fixed right on yours.

“Just hurry back okay?” You decided on.

One corner of his mouth rose into a subtle smirk and he gave you a nod.

“Of course y/n.”

He got in the car and you watched him pull away and leave down the long drive. It was odd that you felt the pains in your stomach of missing him already. You tried to tell yourself it was because you trusted him more than Nanami to protect you. But, there was more to it than that. It was more than obvious to you at this point.

You were falling for that pretty angel and his blue eyes.

———

You unpacked some of your clothes into a small wooden chest that sat at the foot of one of the twin beds.

The inside of the room was cramped, but at least it had a few windows on one wall.

The beds were so close together it might as well have just been the queen bed. There was also a continuing of the nauseating red carpet here as well.

You tried to tell yourself it was only temporary. You hoped it was at least…

Knuckles rapped on the wooden door to your new living area.

“I’ve made dinner.” His deep voice spoke in a monotone. He didn’t wait for you to reply, simply walking away as soon as he’d announced the meal.

“Okay, thank you! Be right out!” You yelled after him.

You decided to change into something more comfortable now that you were settling in for the night. It was just dinner with Nanami after all.

You put on a thin and lowcut pale purple tank top with some soft blue fuzzy shorts. You debated if shorts might have actually been a bit too short. You turned in the cheap full length mirror that was hung on the back of your door.

“Fuck it.” You shrugged, seeing your ass cheeks poking out from under the bottom hem of the shorts. It’s just Nanami, and this is where you’re living now, you should be comfortable. This was something you’d usually wear in the evenings around your home.

You walked out to see him setting down food on the coffee table near the tv. That seemed to be the only place to eat.

“I’m gonna have to get us an actual dining table and a couple chairs if we can make ro-“ he stopped when he saw you walk towards him.

The adam's apple in his throat bobbed as he gulped, taking you in with surprisingly wide eyes.

You were a bit confused. It’s not like you’d walked out in lingerie. But here he was, his cheeks turning a shade of pink, blushing as if you’d walked out and told him something dirty.

Maybe dressing like this wasn’t such a good idea.

Awkwardly you decided to try and distract from it all.

“So what did you make?” You smiled walking over to him and sitting down on the couch in front of the meal he was laying out.

That did seem to snap him out of it.

Though, his voice cracked slightly on his next word out.

“Ah, Um, I made some chicken, and pork and rice with a few different sauces…” he started listing off the things he made as you started loading up a plate and trying things.

The two of you sat in silence for a bit while you ate, until finally you spoke.

“Guardian Angel huh..” you said before taking a giant bite of a fried chicken ball.

He chuckled softly and you noticed how lovely and boyish his smile seemed to be despite how much the rest of him looked like a hardened business man.

“Yes.” Was all he replied.

“And my guardian angel now…what does that mean.”

He thought for a moment, his face looking less cheerful again, like in the car. He didn’t seem to be fond of letting you in on what was going on here. Which seemed quite unfair considering he was only here protecting you because they wanted to use you as bait.

“It means that I can feel if you’re in trouble.” He answered. “A guardian angel who is assigned a human can form a connection with them in many ways.” He pondered giving more information than that. But he settled on. “To start though, I’d be able to tell where you are and get to you quickly if you were in danger. Like an alert going off in my mind.”

You pressed your lips together tightly and nodded. “That does seem handy.”

He gave another small laugh. “It is. Let’s just hope we don’t need it.”

You still didn’t feel satisfied though.

“So how did you become a guardian angel? Are you born that way? Are you…even born at all?” You started spilling out questions without thinking.

It was a mistake to get too excited with his engagement in your conversation.

His eyes narrowed coldly and he snapped his chopsticks down onto his plate firmly and shoved it forward. The muscles on his forearms flexed as he angrily packed up the food to put it away as leftovers.

“Enough.” He grunted, standing up from the couch. “I’m full. Going to bed.”

You rolled your eyes at his tantrum and shrugged. “Okay. Goodnight then.”

He rushed off in a huff.

Unsure of what you’d really done to upset him so much, you felt a bit bad. but you also didn’t feel like he was justified in storming off on you.

So you stood your ground by staying and finishing the rest of the meal on your plate.

You turned on the television to see you only got news channels out here, that was going to get boring.

Maybe Gojo would bring you a dvd player and some movies to watch. Or at the very least some board games to play…if you could convince Nanami to stay friendly with you for more than ten minutes.

You cleaned the last of the meal up and went to bed.

You curled up in the patchwork quilt blanket that had been laid out at the foot of the bed. The night was getting chilly and though it wasn’t yet the time you’d usually fall asleep, it was dark enough, and you wanted the day done with.

Closing your eyes and trying to sleep felt impossible though.

It had been every night since the crash.

It wasn’t the memory of the sound of the metal scraping though that kept you up.

It wasn’t the thought of how many had died and how you’d lived.

It wasn’t the pain in your head that you still felt from hitting the steering wheel.

Nothing of that was horror enough compared to the sick feeling you felt when you saw the white fangs of the man poking his head into your car.

The real horror. How much thinking about him excited you…

——

The next morning you woke up to the smell of eggs and bacon cooking.

With messy hair and morning face still on you wandered out to the kitchen groggily.

“Fuck!” Nanami hissed.

Through squinted eyes you could see that he’d just burnt his hand somehow. Possibly distracted by you again, in a similar way as yesterday.

He’d been bent over the stove cooking eggs, but was now looking you up and down for a moment.

“I think we are gonna need rules about this.” He muttered, tearing his eyes away and returning them to his cooking.

You rubbed your eyes and then narrowed them in on him.

“Yeah, like not staring me down when I am just wearing my pajamas.” You grumbled.

“You call those pajamas?!” He snapped. “You might as well have walked out in nothing.” He angrily scraped at something burning onto the pan.

You shrugged.

“I’m covered up. It’s not my fault you can’t control yourself better. Angel.” You threw that last line in with a teasing tone.

But he slammed the pan down hard onto the stove top at that, storming out of the house.

You stood shocked and still for a moment. Having been aware of his temper you’d known it not wise to push him, but you weren’t the type to just appease a person like that.

Though, you did feel a bit bad it seemed you pushed him too far.

You went and turned the stove off.

If you were being honest with yourself, you really hadn’t thought he’d care. Angels were supposed to be innocent and pure right?

So why did he keep looking at you like he wanted to tear your clothes off just because of some short pajama shorts and a tight tank top?

You wondered if there was something more to him that you were missing, and it did seem like you’d be spending a lot of time together. So you figured it best to go find him and at the very least try and meet on some middle ground with him.

You started by going and putting on a t-shirt a few sizes too big for you over your tank top you’d been wearing. It was hanging down over the shorts. That should be more modest, you figured.

You walked out to find him sitting on a tree stump out in the yard a bit, with a cigarette in his hand.

“I didn’t know angels smoked.” You called out jokingly, stepping carefully barefoot over twigs and leaves to get to where he sat.

He spun around and saw you and cussed under his breath.

“So you’ve come out here to tempt me some more.” He grumbled.

“Tempt you?” You repeated annoyed as you got to him. “I figured this would be better! I’m more covered!”

“Well now you look like you’re not wearing anything under there at all!” He motioned to all of you standing in front of him, trying not to let his eyes rest on you long.

“I am wearing more clothes than earlier, I’m not tempting you, not on purpose at least.”

“You could leave a little more to the imagination, at least.” He bit back.

You glared at him with your face scrunched and arms tightly crossed. “Sounds like your imagination running away with you is the issue here. Not how I’m dressed. If you’re tempted that easily it must be pretty hard being a good angel.”

He scoffed at that. “And who said I’m a good angel.” He took another puff of the cigarette. “I’m not a cherub like Gojo. I’m not even in the second ring of angels.” He sighed. “Guardians are the lowest rank of angels. So who do you think picks up the most slack?” He chuckled, tossing his cigarette into the dirt by his feet and stamping it out with a black shoe. “Who do you think spends the most time with the humans, only to just be forgotten about here when everything goes wrong side up.”

You noticed his hands almost start to shake at this. You felt a sudden urge to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and comfort him.

“So why does that make you not good?” You almost poured at him.

He sighed and stood up, looking you over again with sad but still slightly hungry eyes.

“Because, humans aren’t good, and I grew to like you all a bit too much.”

————

[catchyhuh]

snfsnf. do you guys smell counterfeit money ink in here

WHAT DO THEY SMELL LIKE i can hear you asking. I NEED TO KNOW FOR MY NEXT TRIP TO BATH AND BODYWORKS i hear you cry. well. um. i don't know a lot about perfume so this is all vibes. LETS MAKE THIS ONE RELATIVELY QUICK!

lupin: cologne so expensive that it smells cheap. you know how people say (don’t laugh) chanel no. 5 smells like jerkass grandmas to them? one of those. it’s not that it smells BAD, it’s just… kind of basic. you get the same smell walking to the edgy man section of a sephora

jigen: okay it’s not. BAD. it’s not BAD but you know he smells like cigarette smoke. the thing with lupin is that his nasty cologne is very overpowering (this isn’t even a headcanon multiple people can smell it from yards away IN the franchise) and kind of masks the smoke on him, but jigen just keeps up basic hygiene. for someone who loves the fancy things he doesn’t strike me as a cologne type of guy. probably smells a little bit like hair gel too, or some kinda product like that you feel me

fujiko: CHANGES! changes frequently. despite her fujikoness she doesn’t automatically gun for expensive-for-the-sake-of-being-expensive perfumes, but she DOES tend to favor rarer ones. probably part of the reason she mixes it up so much aside from the fact (evidenced by her hair) she just likes keepin things fresh. unless it’s for the sake of a disguise, she really goes for those like. you know when you smell a perfume and go “this would be red if it were a color” because it’s very dark and deep but hard to put into words? yeah

goemon: smells. clean. idk if that makes sense. he takes pride in his image, not his APPEARANCE, but his image, his history, etc, so he washes the whole getup very frequently, so he just seems like he’d smell like fresh laundry. it's very subtle-- with the prev three you can TELL when they walk into a room but with goemon it doesn’t leave a big impression. fun fact steel actually has a smell too and you know hes always fucking polishing that thang so there’s like a faint undertone of a slightly-alcohol-y zantetsuken there.

zenigata: a mix of shit to the point you couldn’t place it unless you watched his routine. sometimes cologne, sometimes not (either way its not Great cologne lmao) there’s a little bit of coffee in there, that smell winter coats have when you pull them out after being locked up for half the year, bit of cigarette smoke, its a LOT but like goemon it’s mostly just. kind of there. you’d have to be standing beside him to be like “are there mothballs in this room? do you guys smell mothballs” and he’d get vaguely defensive because he KNOWS he’s the mothballs

[bathomet-writes]

2 fast 2 furriest

summary: April gets her bike stolen by Repo Mantis, so it's up to Raph and you to help her get it back! And, you finally get the courage to ask Raph out…………with no problems whatsoever.

relationship: Raph x GN!reader

warnings: romantic, fluff, humor, kissing, sfw

word count: 8,001

You glance down at the timer you’d set on your phone. You’re sure in the time it’s taken you to look at the dryer and then back at it, the numbers would have been lower. You impatiently tap your fingers on the screen.

The clothes you’d put in there should be done any second now. One of life’s greatest pleasures, you’ve found, was taking a fresh, hot sweater out of the dryer and immediately putting it on. You practically drooled thinking about how the warmth would cut through the chill in your bones. Tonight, you had graciously accepted your friend April’s request to apartment-sit and watch over her pet Mayhem. You hadn’t seen him for quite some time, but April assured you that was normal.

“Nowadays, he just kinda comes and goes as he pleases. He’s a free-spirit!”

While you were secretly a little grateful that taking care of Mayhem only required you putting out a bowl of food and water every once in a while, you found it rather concerning that you had barely interacted with him the entire time you’ve been here. It was almost as concerning as the coldness you felt in April’s apartment. The thermostat was kept at a sensible, if not not aggravatingly low temperature. But, you weren’t one to come into another person’s place and mess with their settings. Anything to save a buck or two in these trying times, you figured.

Then– BRRRR!– your dryer let out an annoyingly shrill sound, signaling that it was done. Finally!

You toss your phone aside, and spring from the couch, tearing off your current top in favor of that sweet, sweet warmth. Your phone tumbles onto the couch cushions, while a faint buzzing sound of a notification goes unnoticed.

“Oh yeah, that’s what I’m talking about,” you pull out a comfortable sweater that you’ve had since your freshman year of college. It’s pilled-cotton surface and faint smell of mothballs was the epitome of comfort. You quickly shove your head into it and shoot your arms through the sleeves.

The sound that escapes your throat is downright embarrassing, and you practically melt into the floor. “Gooooood…”

I’m just going to sit here for a second. Maybe a minute. A couple minutes.

You hug your arms around your chest and rock back and forth, letting the precious heat soak into your bones. Tonight was going to be a good night. The television was playing one of your favorite comfort shows, and you were about to finish eating some leftover meatloaf and green bean casserole April let you claim from her fridge.

Between your current job, having to worry about how you were budgeting your spending, and just life in general, you were in desperate need for a chill day. Friday nights were filled with endless possibilities for most people. Maybe they’d go out to a party and hang out with their friends, check out a new movie playing in theaters, or see a wild concert. Those ideas would normally spark your interest, but tonight was going to be the esteemed night of doing absolutely nothing.

The gentle warmth of your clothing, for some reason, makes your hazy mind think of Raph. You recall the night of the unsuccessful Foot Clan bust, and you feel the corner of your lips turning up. You still hadn’t really asked Raph out officially, and you’ve been making up millions of excuses to yourself as to why. Maybe you could just be content with the relationship you two share right now. After all, this is what it’s been like for years. It’s familiar. You sigh, relenting at how nebulous your intentions seem to be. Why can’t your heart and your brain just get over their stupid hangups and get onto the same page, already?

When the residual heat from your sweater seems to have been all tapped out, you lazily crawl from the laundry room back to the nest of comfort you’ve set up. You lift your body up to sit yourself at the coffee table to continue your meal, when you come face to face with a heinous sight.

It seems in your absence, Mayhem teleported himself back into the apartment. You stare at the multicolored creature as he continues helping himself to the food sitting on the table.

For a moment, he seems to realize you’ve been looking at him. He lifts his head up, pieces of green beans and crispy onions decorating his chops.

“Mayhem,” you threaten.

Then, he immediately goes back to chowing down. What a little shit.

“Hey– no! No!” You scramble over to smack away his head and attempt to push his small body off of the furniture. Mayhem, however, simply could not be fucked to move. Sometimes, you wish you could tell April just how much you despise little dogs. And dog-like mythical beings.

“I swear, I am this close to punting you,” you pinch your thumb and index finger together and shove it into his face to emphasize your annoyance.

After Mayhem seems to have had his fill of your food, he casually taps over to you, walking across the glass tabletop. His eyes are as neutral as can be, but they remain fixed on you. He sits and simply stares into your eyes, punctuated with a high-pitched chirping sound.

You shudder, a chill running down your spine. Mayhem scares you a little bit when he gives you those unsettling, knowing looks. You know he knows things. Like there’s a man trapped in there.

“What?” You try to escape his gaze, and slink back over to the couch to grab your phone. You were prepared to text April that her precious little dog-man best of indeterminate origin just returned, and ruined your perfect dinner.

Before you move your thumb to unlock it, you do a double-take to see you've gotten a couple texts from April already. The notifications read:

sherlock corn: i’m omw back now :DDD has mayhem eaten any of his food??

sherlock corn: god it’s cold outside

sherlock corn: there’s a weird looking tow truck out here, i think my boss’s car just got towed hahahahaha

sherlock corn: WAIT

sherlock corn: 3 Missed Calls

sherlock corn: I’M GONNA BE LATE I GOTTA GO KILL A BUG MAN

You run your hand over your forehead, thinking about the sort of shenanigans April was getting herself into. You usually tried to not let the fact that April was prone to exaggeration make you worry too much. But, of course, you can’t regulate the way your mind wanders to the possibility that she could be by herself tonight, without a bike, on a warpath to get it back. Your protective instincts start to kick in, and you frown a bit. Mayhem’s head tilts a bit in confusion, seeing your sudden distress as you look at your phone.

“Oh, April…” you say mostly to yourself.

You quickly open your messages and attempt to look over them again, seeing if you can try and find April’s location. Mayhem, chittering nervously, moves closer to you. He begins pawing at your leg, almost insisting that you let him in on what’s happening.

You look down at his pleading eyes. Deciding to give in, you lift Mayhem onto your lap and give him a gentle scratch on the cheek. “It’s ok, little guy. I think April just got her bike stolen. I’m sure she’s fine. Actually, I’m a little more worried about that bug man.”

You chuckle a bit thinking about it, conjuring up the image of a pathetic-looking insect man being beaten within an inch of his life.

As soon as he hears that April may or may not be in need of help, Mayhem pounces from his perch on your leg, and lands squarely on the top of your head. In an instant, you see a shimmering light surround the two of you. You blink, and you feel your being tear through the fabric of reality itself. It’s always disorienting to teleport. As much as you’ve enjoyed the company of people who liberally use their mystical powers on you, they had a nasty habit of interrupting your plans.

You have a bad feeling that this wasn’t going to be a chill night after all.

—

This was going to be a chill night, Raph mused to himself. No training, no patrol, just good ol’ fashioned relaxing.

He and his brothers were fixing to start one of their classic Jupiter Jim movie nights. Raph ambled into the kitchen area to grab the last of the popcorn and snacks, taking care to place everything into a convenient stack that he could carry back in one trip. Leo was always starting the movie before everyone got settled, the rascal.

Once he grabbed the last package of candy and set it atop his jenga tower of treats, he turned his heel to exit the kitchen.

“Hm-mhm…” Raph smiled, humming a song that had been stuck in his head to himself.

“RAPH!” Out of nowhere, April popped out behind the other side of the wall and grabbed onto Raph’s elbow. His precious snacks went tumbling onto the ground as a result.

“AUGHAH–!” Raph screeched, then fell to his knees to mourn his fallen snacks. “Why?”

April chuckled meekly, “Uh, sorry!”

She reached over to pat his shoulder in consolation for a brief moment, before quickly pulling him back up. “Listen, I just had a run in with that praying mantis guy! He repossessed my freakin’ bike!”

“Repo Mantis?” Raph’s eyebrows furrowed in concern. He noticed her heaving breaths, did April run all the way here?

“Are you okay? He didn’t rough you up or anything, did he?” Raph looked April up and down.

“Nah, listen. I was getting off of work, right? And when I went out to my bike, I saw him putting it into his truck. I was all like, ‘HEY, STOP’! And he was all like, ‘Why don’t cha make me?’ And then I came at him swinging–” April reenacted their exchange with a series of wild gestures, vaguely resembling punches.

“Then I think I ripped off one of his antennae things,” April reached into her pocket and withdrew a thin, purple-colored appendage, “but I’m basically unscathed.”

As it twitched a bit in her hand, Raph had to hold back a gag that threatened to make him puke. Not that he needed the visceral reminder, but God help anybody that thought about messing with April.

“Yeah– Yeah, right,” he physically turns away from her, but quickly regains his composure. “Let’s go get him, then! Just let me grab the guys–”

“There’s no time! I think I know where he’s going, but we need to go now. Let’s just take the Turtle Tank, Donnie already leant me the keys.” She spins a keyring around her fingers, then snatches Raph’s hand as she leads the two toward the garage.

Raph’s eyes narrowed in immediate suspicion, “You made a copy of the tank’s keys, didn’t you?”

“...Maybe,” her voice lowered.

As the two ran past the projector area, April took the opportunity to call out to Leo, Donnie, Mikey to inform them of their departure. They were all piled on top of eachother in the couch, having already started watching the Jupiter Jim movie without Raph. Typical.

April’s shout came out in a frenzied string of words, “HEYGUYSSORRYRAPHANDIHAVETOGOGETREPOMANTISBEBACKLATERBYE–!”

The three turtles, undeterred by their friend’s sudden appearance and exit, offered out a simple, “‘Kay.”

Raph climbed into his seat as April started up the Turtle Tank. They tore out of the sewers, and onto the streets of New York above. April hurriedly directed him to the place where Repo Mantis jumped her, and Raph drove easily between the lines of traffic.

“Don’t worry, April. We’ll show that Bug Man how the Mad Dogs deal with–”

Before he could finish his thought, a sudden burst of mystic energy popped into the interior of the tank. Raph’s confident grin dropped to a look of surprise, and he and April tore their attention from the road ahead to the two new passengers. It was Mayhem…and you?

He blinked a few times, watching Mayhem jump down from your head directly into April’s open lap. He let out a loud, happy purr as April took him into her arms.

“Woah, Mayhem!” April was just as surprised as the rest of you, but she lovingly accepted Mayhem’s aggressive head nudges. “Did you hear I was in trouble and came barging in to save me? My hero!”

You make a show of rolling your eyes at April, looking a bit offended. “And what am I, chopped liver?”

“Maybe answer my texts next time, bitch.” She smiles coldly at you.

Raph instantly perked up, calling out your name. “Hey!”

He enters the coordinates of Repo Mantis’ location into the autopilot feature, making sure it’s safe to leave the controls. Raph then approaches you, making you shift your attention from April to him. You look up at him a bit surprised, like you don’t exactly know how to greet him. Your hands reach out, faltering. You finally land on a simple pat on the arm.

“Hey! It’s you!” Your eyes shift around awkwardly, but you return his friendly greeting. It comes out forced, and you try to laugh it off.

Raph is a bit confused by your hesitance, but nonetheless amused. He laughs along with you, making you relax a bit. He’s happy to see you, even if it’s under less than favorable circumstances. Raph tries to focus back onto the chase to find Repo Mantis, but finds himself now hyper aware of your behavior. The way you move, the way you talk with April. He’d have to ask himself why later.

—

As soon as your vision clears back up, you look around to see April and Raph staring at you. Wait, Raph?

You try to take everything in stride. Okay, there was the teleporting, then the fact that you now found yourself in the Turtle Tank. Your brain, however, takes a bit longer to reboot to full operational capacity to take on social interactions.

Raph comes over to greet you, smiling warmly. You can see him saying things to you, but understand none of them. Then, he’s moving in closer. A hug? A friendly handshake? You suddenly forget how to properly interact with him, and you try your best to play it cool.

Your hand shoots from your side. From there, your body decides to let it reach out and pet Raph’s arm. The action is almost clinical in its execution.

You see the slightest change in his happy expression. Your gut twists in worry. Come on, you idiot, say something. You open your mouth, and the sounds and words that come out are seemingly beyond your control.

“Hey! It’s you!” You chuckle robotically.

Hey, it’s you? You wanted to slap yourself. Hell, you were ready to ask Raph to do it for you.

Determined to end your suffering as soon as possible, you snap your attention to April. Smooth, very smooth.

“Uh– I’m guessing we’re on our way to shakedown this, quote, unquote, “bug man.” Your fingers do air quotes for good measure.

“You got it!” April sets Mayhem down, and explains to you the events that led up to your abrupt arrival.

Occasionally, her eyes leave your own. Your attention seems to be off and wandering anyway. April discreetly goes to look between you and Raph. Her face doesn’t reveal much other than thinly-veiled curiosity.

Finally, you force yourself to be more present and focus back on April. “Huh, okay. So where do we find Repo Mantis? You think he’s still on the road?”

You try to take a step toward April, but the tank hits a pothole and you throw your arms out to try and stabilize yourself, “Wait, are we moving right now?”

Raph, similarly lost in his own thoughts, takes a moment to concentrate. He shakes his shoulders a bit, and returns to steering the tank.

“Of course we are! We’re gonna catch him while he’s doing another repo job, and get April’s bike back.” His boisterous attitude returns. “You better sit down, by the way.”

You abide, and slide into the nearest unoccupied seat. You smile to yourself, Raph was always a stickler for safety.

“C’mon, I know you’re out there somewhere,” April seethes, nearly grinding her teeth. Her eyes scour the countless streets you pass.

“I feel like you have murderous intentions,” you quip.

“Oh, murder’s gonna be the least of that guy’s worries. Raph, can’t this thing go any faster?” April slams her fists onto the console in front of her, her hands errantly hitting buttons.

Raph’s eyes shift between the digital screen before him, displaying some kind of GPS, and the two of you. “‘I think I found the signal from a tracker Donnie put on your bike, and we’re coming up on it soon.”

April seems to be briefly perturbed by the fact that her bike was being tracked Donatello, “Why am I not surprised?”

You whistle, impressed at Raph’s ingenuity. You suppose you should be impressed with Donnie, as well. If anybody in this group wanted to truly lose something, it’d have to be in another dimension.

You lean over and grab April’s hand, giving her a reassuring squeeze, “See? You’ll have your revenge in no time!”

April laughs in response, taking your hand. “Thanks. I know you probably didn’t plan on being dragged along. Mayhem must like you a lot!”

You purse your lips into a thin line, choosing to bite your tongue. You didn’t hate Mayhem, per say. You just weren’t a dog– rather, a magic dog person.

Mayhem, who seemed to have been summoned by April mentioning him, comes forward and tries rubbing up against your leg. You try to oblige and give him a couple head pats.

“Yeah, he’s the best.” Your voice is flat, barely concealing your forced attempt at affection. You suppose he could have just left you back at April’s apartment, but for whatever reason thought you accompanying him was mandatory.

Then you wonder out loud, “How did Mayhem teleport to you guys anyway?” He couldn’t have known where April was, could he?

Raph joins in your conversation, offering a shrug. “Maybe he just loves April so much, he could find her anywhere. Like a true, loyal companion.”

You look back at Raph, amused by his cheesy sentiment. “Mayhem likes you too, Raph. Right, little guy?”

You lift up Mayhem, and decide to make your way over to pass him off to Raph.

“Aww, Hey Mayhem! It’s been a while.” Raph smiles at the small creature, lifting a hand to give him a pet.

As soon as he comes within a few inches of Raph, Mayhem begins to recoil and sneer a bit at the red-clad turtle. Raph’s heart looks like it’s just been ripped from his chest, and you can’t help but chortle at him. You pull Mayhem back to cradle him in your arms, and like a switch, he goes back to a giddy, purring mess. It seemed that while Mayhem hated Raph, he couldn’t get enough of you. How unfortunate, you think. But very funny. You take a moment to shove Mayhem rapidly back and forth, cackling at the dog’s small growls as you try to push him closer to Raph.

Raph, having finally had enough of your teasing, scoffs and shoos you away. “C’mon, enough! You’re gonna rile him up.”

“Maybe it’s the cologne you’re using.” You glance back at Raph teasingly. You’ve thankfully gotten over your inexplicable awkwardness interacting with him from before, settling back into playful banter.

Raph’s face scrunches in disbelief, “No way.”

As if he thinks you somehow can’t see him, Raph lifts an arm to give himself a small, covert whiff. “Is it my ‘going over the speed limit’ stink?”

You lean in, letting yourself sniff Raph.

“I don’t think so. You smell more like bergamot and…” you go back to inhale deeply, almost comically so, “...and fresh rain. It’s nice.” Then, you turn from him and make your back to your seat with Mayhem.

Raph seems a bit startled at your daring display. If he thought you were somehow going to go out of your way to smell him, he would have most certainly made an effort to put on some cologne. And to top it all off, you’d said he smelled nice? Like, as in not bad? He can’t help feeling a bit restless, his face quickly turning a shade of red. He began mindlessly drumming his fingers along the armrests.

“You guys–! It’s him!” April’s voice cut through Raph’s thoughts. He tried to ignore the sudden tightness in his chest to look up at the road.

About a block ahead, you all could see the Repo Mantis tow truck parked on the side of the road. The Repo Mantis himself was absent, leaving his vehicle unattended. Raph sighs, knowing he’s probably out and about taking somebody’s oxygen tank or something. Raph quickly moves to activate the breaks. The tank skids to a halt, and Raph elects to park it in a nearby alleyway.

April’s eyes go absolutely sinister as she runs to the rip open the side door. “It’s time to repo your mortal soul, Mantis.” Her hands crack her knuckles menacingly.

Raph grabbed the back of April’s jacket, lifting her up and off the ground like a feral cat. “Why don’t you just let me handle this? We can’t have you getting arrested for manslaughter.”

April looked at Raph in annoyance, but thinking about it, brightened up and quickly replied, “You’re right, you can take the heat on this one. I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

“Thanks.” Raph smiles sarcastically at her, voice laced with chagrin.

You wave after him, more than happy to let Raph do all the heavy-lifting, so to speak. “Good luck!”

Raph looks at you, a smile briefly appearing on his face. “Thanks! Uh, thank you. You too.”

Wow. Did he really just do the classic misplaced ‘you too’ line? You shake your head in shame, basking in the pure cringe you see Raph encapsulate as he rushes out of the tank.

You and April watch as Raph strides calmly over to the tow truck, eyes glued to the scene to watch for any signs of trouble. You were sure Raph would be fine, and you lean back into your seat and weakly begin to stroke Mayhem’s back. He yawns, and stretches himself out over your lap.

April folds her arms and takes her seat as well, kicking up her feet onto the dashboard. She looks over to you and Mayhem, taking in the rare image of you interacting somewhat enthusiastically with him.

You flop your head over, glancing at her with a lopsided smile. “Something on your mind?”

She takes a second to choose her words carefully, and mimics your upbeat demeanor. “No. Not really.”

You hum in response, and check a side view mirror to make sure Raph is still within sight. He seems to have safely approached the tow truck.

April does the same, and decides to just cut to the chase.

“What’s up with you two, anyway?” she innocently asks.

You swallow a bit, your mouth suddenly feeling rather dry. You carefully set Mayhem down on the ground beside you, and turn fully to look at April.

You raise an eyebrow. April was always easy to talk candidly with. If there was juicy gossip, be it about the turtles or anything else, she would usually come to you with it. By the look she’s giving you right now, she’s ready for you to indulge her nosiness.

You breathe in, you want her to say whatever she’s so clearly eager to say to your face. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, why are you and Raph acting so weird around each other all of the sudden? What, you like him or something?”

Damn, you didn’t really expect her to be so eerily perceptive. You swallow again, determined to keep yourself and your emotions under control. You wanted to try to play your cards a little close to the chest.

“Or something,” you reply dryly.

“C’mon, don’t be coy,” she sighs. April then makes the move to fully look at you as well. “You can’t hide from me.”

You chuckle, putting your head on your hands. “Nothing to hide.”

She casts a scrutinizing gaze upon your form, looking you thoroughly up and down. “You know I’m a journalist, right? Getting the truth out of people is basically my job. I can read you like a book.”

“Oh, really?” You level her with your own look of scrutiny. “Then read me.”

She sputters a bit, but hardens her expression in an instant. The two of you stare at each other for several minutes. You weren’t going to break, you told yourself. Your mind was a steel trap.

After having seemingly come to her final conclusion, she closes her eyes to reveal her deduction.

Then, her mouth curls up into the smarmiest of smirks. In a singsong-y lilt, she states, “You like him!”

“Pfft— no, I don’t.” You turn your head back to the mirror, wanting to distract yourself.

I love him. In love, even.

Wait, no. Love? You racked your brain, but there really wasn’t any other word you could think of to describe how you felt about Raphael Hamato. But love? You were in actual, honest-to-goodness love? Somehow, it felt foreign think about your true feelings like that. You were baffled by emotions you have yet to fully understand.

You quietly scoff to yourself, and look back to April. When your eyes meet, her expression has completely changed to one of pure shock.

“What?” You don’t know what the look was for, quite frankly.

April’s eyes have practically bugged out their sockets. Her cat-eye glasses slip a bit down her nose as she inches forward.

“Dude, I was joking,” Her voice is barely above a whisper. “You’re in love with him?”

Ah, it would seem your internal dialogue became actual dialogue. Like in slow motion, the profound realization that you just admitted to April’s face that you were in love with Raph set in.

You slowly suck in your bottom lip, almost biting at the skin. Your hands, that have since been placed on the armrests, tighten into white-knuckle the leather. Your skin goes clammy. If you could self-destruct, you would very much like to at this very moment.

And like a dam one hairline crack away from bursting, your failure to deny the claim confirms it for April. She tries, but fails, to hold back her unadulterated joy.

“OH. MY. GOD.” She leans all the way to the edge of her seat, her nose but centimeters away from touching yours.

“APRIL—!”

She immediately cuts you off, grabbing your shoulders and squealing with wild abandon. April then lifts you both from your seats to spin and twirl about in a loving embrace. Beneath you, Mayhem has not seemed to be disturbed in the slightest by the sudden shift in volume.

“This is— Holy shit!” She slaps her hands on either side of your face, causing your cheeks to become slightly squished. “You know what this means, right?”

“That I can die and go to Heaven now?” You feel your head slip down. There was no other way to deal with this other than a swift and merciful death.

“No, dummy! It means you have to tell me everything! Have you told him yet? Have you asked him out? Do you think he feels the same? Have you kissed? What—“

You reach up to pinch April’s cheek in a bid to get her to stop her bombardment of questions. Thankfully, she closes her mouth, looking at you in anticipation.

“If you would stop grilling me for one second,” you release her and push off to fall back into your seat, “I can tell you.”

She eagerly sits back down as well, hands placed politely on her knees. “Go on.”

“Not yet, not really, don’t know, and no.” You lift up a finger to correspond with each response.

“Verbose, as always,” April teases you.

“W-Well, what do you want me to say? I’m bad at this sort of stuff. I don’t know when it started exactly…” You look at your short nails. You had previously bit them all off in a fit of anxiety a couple nights before.

April straightens a bit, and gives you a sympathetic look. Her eyes flit briefly back toward the street, wondering if Raph would be back sometime soon. Then, she places a firm, reassuring hand onto your own.

“Hey, it’s cool! You can tell me or not tell me whatever you want. I’m just really happy for you. You and Raph would make a super cute couple.” She tosses a playful wink at you, and you can’t help the small smile that starts to tug at your lips.

“And don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. And if you ever need any help— well, not that you need help. I’m not like, super experienced in love. But, I can be your wingman! Or, you could—“

You cut April off, wrapping your arms around her neck to give her a tight hug. You couldn’t ask for a better friend than her. She falters a bit, but wraps her arms around you as well. You weren’t usually the one to initiate hugs, and was pleasantly surprised at your closeness.

“You sure know how to ramble, huh?” You squeeze her neck a smidge tighter.

“Har-har,” she sighs, rolling her eyes at you.

You separate and give a genuine smile. “Thanks. Seriously.”

The two of you grab at each others’ hands, lacing your fingers together and sitting knee-to-knee. You really missed hanging out with April like you used to, spending countless days together working on homework and pulling all-nighters. Sitting with her like this, it’s as if no time has passed.

“I gotta ask, though.” April cocks her head, looking at you expectantly. You nod for her to continue.

“Why Raph?” She smiles at you, her eyes sparkling.

The face you pulled must have made her backtrack a little, so she quickly adds, “You know what I mean. Like, what about Raph specifically made you…fall in love with him?”

She titters a bit at the end, like a giddy kid getting to say a curse word for the first time. You giggle along with her, your ears burning and toes tapping.

“Do you have a couple hours to spare?” You look wistfully out into the street, and suddenly you become aware of why all of you were out here in the first place.

“Speaking of Raph…” your eyebrows crease in worry. You tried to ease off and let him take care of dealing with the bad guy, but now you were tempted to go with April and investigate.

“Yeah, we should probably go check. Hey, Mayhem.” She reaches down and shakes him a bit, waking him up from his nap.

“Think you could go pop in on Raph, make sure he’s not dead?” She jokes.

Mayhem takes his sweet time getting up, arching his back, and splaying his toes to stretch them. He chirps, confirming that he’d oblige. You watch as Mayhem once again blinks out of existence.

You wring your hands, looking out into the unusually empty street. You could swear you saw more people out there before.

“I’m sure he’s fine. He’s just getting a few extra licks in for us,” she states confidently. April shadow boxes the air a bit, illustrating her point.

And then from behind, you hear a familiar, distressed voice.

“DRIVE, DRIVE AWAY NOW!”

—-

Raph’s loud voice came crashing in as Mayhem teleported him into the tank, along with a slightly dented bike. Raph looks like he’d just been in a fight with a cheese grater, cuts and scratches covering his entire body.

April and you gawk at the visibly shaken turtle, before turning to each other in disbelief. You weren’t sure a praying mantis could do all that damage. She looks back at Raph, giving him a quick, “Don’t have to tell me twice!”

April shoots from her seat and takes control of the Turtle Tank, turning on the ignition in an impressive display of speed. The wheels screech against the pavement, the smell of burning rubber wafting in the air as she peels out into the street. It’s interesting to see April handle herself so well in high-stakes situations, like the ones you’ve come to find yourself in more and more frequently.

Not content to just sit there and do nothing, you go to follow Raph, who has planted himself in the back area of the tank. He sits on a bench, still desperately clutching the bike in his shaky hands. You gently coax his fingers off of the metal, and move the bike out of the way.

“What happened back there? You look like you’ve seen—“

“Cat. Big Cat. Huge.” His words come out choppy and full of horror.

You blink, but reach out to place a hand on his chin. You lift his head up and to the left, examining for any serious injuries. “What big cat?”

“Mrs. Nubbins,” April squeaks out. You turn, looking out to see an enormous bug-cat hybrid bounding toward your vehicle. Its massive tail whips back and forth in a menacing show of force, the appendage sending several nearby cars flying into the air.

You cry out in terror, and April tries her best to take a sharp right turn at an upcoming intersection.

You do your best to get a good look at the beast, a little bit in awe. Weirdly enough, you spot a small figure sitting at the top of the cat’s head. It’s as if it was being controlled by a tiny man. You could only assume who would be the one to occupy that role.

“‘EY, COME BACK HERE! I AIN’T THROUGH WITH YOUSE YET!” A faint voice called out from behind the tank, loud enough to reach your ears.

“April!” You call out. Repo Mantis was definitely not a villain you were itching to meet anytime soon. The thunderous pounding of cat paws were quickly approaching, and you could feel the suspension begin to work overtime as you were launched about an inch into the air.

“Workin’ on it—!” April barked back at you. She yells, trying to manage a series of tight maneuvers. The tank veered left and right, dodging various environmental obstacles such as other cars and people in a hasty chase that took you into the deepest bowels of the city.

Raph was still stuck in a haze, and you couldn’t help but grab onto his hulking form for some sense of support as you were threatened to be tossed about the back seat like a bag of loose groceries. You grab his face, trying desperately to get him to come back to his senses.

“Raph, now’s really not the time to check out!” You shout encouragingly. But, nothing happens. The same pain-stricken, pale-looking face looks out into the middle distance.

You grumble, praying that this wouldn’t come back to bite you in the ass.

“Let’s go,” you exclaim, lightly slapping Raph across the face.

“Come on,” another smack to the opposite side.

“Don’t make me do something drastic,” you warn, repeatedly slapping him back and forth across the face. No response.

You bite back a groan, but muster up all the courage you can. Surely, you weren’t about to try it. It wouldn’t work. You had no choice, you told yourself.

You sucked in a quick breath through your nostrils, and lean forward, awkwardly smashing your dry lips onto his. This should be a lot more romantic than it is, and you take a brief moment to savor the act. Even though you were mostly joking earlier, you breathe in his scent and are instantly intoxicated. You let yourself linger a bit too long, parting your lips ever so slightly. If breathing in his scent was getting you going, tasting it was a whole other experience. But, you remember you’re all being chased by a turtle-hungry giant cat. The residual force from the tank’s erratic movement forces you to part from Raph’s lips. You note how surprisingly not terrible they felt.

But, to your exasperation, Raph remained shell-shocked (you laugh a bit in your head). Well fuck, time to pull out the big guns.

You angrily grab Raph’s right hand, rolling it over to expose the meat of his thumb. Then, you sink your teeth into it, chomping down as hard as you possibly can. If this didn’t work, you were truly worried that Raph might be in some fear-induced coma.

Then, to your joy, you hear Raph’s signature yell grace your ears. You’d never been so grateful to hear that goofy noise in your entire life.

Raph is a bit disoriented, but he looks down to the source of the strange sensation he was feeling in his hand.

“What the— What just happened?” Raph blubbers. He rubs the back of his head a bit, then lifts up his right hand to his face. For whatever reason, you just kept on biting, your head rising along with his appendage.

“‘Ur ‘ack!” you mumble, mouth occupied with Raph’s hand.

His eyes shift back and forth to your teeth and you, mouth coiling into a tight squiggle. A couple drops of sweat seem to fall down his face.

“Uh, can you—“ he wiggles his hand a bit. He looks a little embarrassed.

Oh, right. You unclench your jaw and release him. You awkwardly chuckle a bit, looking at the small marks beginning to form on his hand that mimic your bite pattern. You have to almost click your jaw back into place, having held it open that wide for that long.

“Sorry, it was kind of my last resort,” you admit. You give Raph a light smile as you pat his face, pleased to finally have him back to his senses.

You briefly see him lick his lips, putting his hand in his other one protectively.

“Well,” his eyes continue to shift, almost unwilling to meet your gaze. “I’d hate to know what your other resorts were.”

You look at him, a bit puzzled. You guess he really didn’t remember you slapping him. Or doing that…other thing. Maybe you’d just keep that bit of knowledge to yourself for a while. You stared at the slightly flustered Raph, cheeks dusted pink, and shallow breathing coming out in quiet puffs. Then, something small seemed to snap inside your psyche. Nothing huge, but suddenly you looked at Raph a little differently. You hated to admit it— oh, who were you kidding, you quite liked admitting it. Seeing Raph, the 6-foot-something tall, brick shithouse of a guy, in such a state before you made you feel things. Things that were somewhat inconvenient while in the middle of a high-speed car chase.

“I could show you again sometime.” You wiggle your eyebrows suggestively at him. You’re not exactly sure where your sudden lurid charm came from, but you kind of liked it.

Raph attempts to respond, rapidly forming silent syllables with his mouth, but otherwise remains speechless. Your eyelids drop, letting yourself study his minute expressions. Raph can’t help but ogle you a bit, but quickly shakes his head to bring him back to reality. You all were still on the run from Repo Mantis and his freaky cat Mrs. Nubbins.

“Oh, please,” he chastises you. Raph then pushes himself off of the bench, shaking his limbs out to clear his head.

April, seemingly unaware of the intimate moment the two of you shared in the back, calls out to Raph. “Where’s the garage?! I’ve kinda just been driving around wherever for a while!”

Raph whips his head around, moving back to the front of the tank to help April. “You lost ‘em? Nice work!”

You stay in the back for a minute, smiling at the back of Raph’s head. Oblivious to your loud and crazed environment, you let your index and middle finger lightly brush over your lips. The lightest touch, and you can feel yourself getting worked up again. You really needed a cold shower.

You peek out the back window, where thankfully, the cat beast was nowhere to be found. You had to remember to commend April on her driving skills when you got back to the lair.

April lets Raph take back his chair, and he begins steering the tank down a couple of narrow alleys, attempting to find a way back into the lair.

“So, are we just gonna leave Repo Mantis and his cat roam about out there?” April looked at Raph and you questioningly.

As if you were both on the same wavelength, the two of you responded with a resounding, “Yup.”

Raph and you suddenly felt a bit claustrophobic within the Turtle Tank.

—

The three of you emerged from the back, walking out into the garage and letting out a collective sigh of relief. April wheeled out her recovered bike beside her, running her hand over the seat.

“Donnie can buff out the scratches, if you want,” Raph offered.

“You know what,” April looked at the two of you, a tired look in the eye. “I think I’m gonna try taking the bus. Public transit is great.”

You nodded lazily, placing your hands behind your head and leaning back. “I hear that. Biking is so exhausting.”

Mayhem jumps up onto April’s shoulders, knocking his head against her own. He has had enough action for one night as well, and she nods. “Okay, okay. Let’s go to bed.”

You hesitantly glance from Raph to April, rubbing the back of your hand. You don’t exactly know what to say. You were tired as shit, but you could tell Raph was giving you a look that made you feel like he wanted to tell you something.

Giving you a knowing look, April bumps your shoulder and says, “I’ll give you a minute. I’ll send Mayhem to come back and get you, you’re sleeping over tonight.”

“Oh, uh…” you mumble. You were once again eternally grateful for April, and your rock a bit on your heels. “Sure, okay.”

“G’night, Raph. Thanks again for rescuing my bike!” April calls out as she shoots the two of you finger guns. Then, Mayhem teleports her away.

Raph, having finally let himself truly relax for the first time in several minutes, lets his large hand rest upon your shoulder. You turn to face him, giving him a look of naïveté.

“Yes?” you coo. You make a show to bat your eyelashes at him.

He looks down at you, his jaw tightly set. You could almost see the gears turning in his head. You resolve to save him any embarrassment and try to ease the tension.

“I know what you’re going to say,” you assure him. You reach up and run your fingers over the calloused skin of his hand.

“Wait, you do?” he squawks. His eyes search your face, looking for any sign of what’s going on inside your head.

“Pumpernickel?” you jest.

“Not even close.” Raph shakes his head disparagingly down at you.

You give a gentle snicker, and take a daring step closer. You resume your earlier expectation of Raph’s scratches from the cat, noting one that seems to have cut his mask up a bit on the left. You strain yourself to reach up and give the mark a cautious poke.

“Does that hurt?” You lean up, prodding at Raph’s face.

He stutters a bit, red beginning to color his features. “N-No, I’m fine! It takes a lot to really hurt me, haha.”

You allow your fingers to rub a bit at the affected area of his cheek. “True, you are pretty resilient.”

His shoulders slump a bit, and Raph looks up at the ceiling. “Say, uh…back there? You–”

You guess you had delayed the conversation long enough, retracting your hand. “Yeah, I don’t know why I did that. I don’t usually bite people.”

“Oh, yeah. That. The bite.” He glances back down to observe his hand, turning it around for you to see. “I’m actually kinda impressed, you did more damage than Mrs. Nubbins!”

Genuinely shocked, you grab at his hand to look closer. “What? No– You’re joking.”

“Yeah, look– I think you broke the skin!” He waves his hand mockingly in your face, chasing you a bit around the garage. You run away from his taunting, laughing along as the two of you scurry about.

“Don’t show me your wound!” You smack at his face, as Raph leans over to trap you in a side hug.

“I think it’s lethal, Doctor. What’s your prognosis?” He leans closer, his tone suddenly going deadly serious. You smirk and go along with the spontaneous medical roleplay.

“Hm…I think it’s infected. Better let me administer the antidote,” you state. Grabbing his hand, you place a wet, sloppy smooch on his thumb. You look up at Raph, and laugh at his dumbstruck expression.

“Ew, why’d you use so much spit?” He gripes, wiping his hand on the front of your sweater.

“It’s healing. I have the healing spit of a dog.” You can’t help but stare and take in the image of him leaning into your embrace, guffawing at your ridiculous statement. You could feel the familiar love pangs in your chest, and you stand a little taller to look him in the eye. If April were still here, she would be on the sidelines cheering for you to take the leap. You decide to borrow some of April’s energy and confidence, and you go for it.

“Hey, if you’re not too busy, would you wanna go do something with me? Preferably without the interference of any Foot dudes or giant, deadly cats?” You cock an eyebrow up at Raph, hoping your flawless transition wasn’t too much of a whiplash for him.

Raph immediately stops his laughter, and looks at you with a new glint in his eye. He is a bit taken aback, but responds with a swift grab of your hands.

“Uh, sure! Sure, I would love that.” Raph’s voice raises an octave.

You couldn’t believe it. After weeks, if not months of dreading it, you asked Raph out! You two were going to hang out alone, finally. You swore to yourself that even one minor villain threatened to interrupt your plans, you’d…well, you don’t know exactly what you’d do. Probably violence. You were too exhausted to think about plans at the moment though. You could save that for tomorrow. You give him a quick nod, letting yourself shamelessly smile from ear to ear.

You both look at each other to confirm for a moment that you, in fact, just asked him out. The world seemed to stop rotating at its axis. Raph’s stomach was doing backflips, but he tried to control his breathing so he could look you in the eye properly.

“I’m really glad you asked me that, if I’m gonna be honest,” he smiles warmly at you.

“Aww, really?” You can’t help trying to hide your shy expression in the crook of your neck.

“Yeah, I don’t usually kiss before the first date,” he says out of the side of his mouth. Raph then hits you with his own suggestive eyebrow wiggle.

Before you can fully process his bold admission, Mayhem appeared onto the top of your head once again to whisk you away to April’s apartment. He had remembered your less-than chaste kiss from back in the Turtle Tank, you realized. Your bug-eyed stare and beet-red face was the last thing Raph saw before you were taken away in a burst of shimmering energy. He chuckled to himself, standing alone in the garage for a minute to smile.

author's note: here's the followup to stakeout!! thank u for reading (read on ao3 if you’d like to see the rest of the series)

taglist: @saspas-corner

[tomatette]

Prompt #11 - Vampire @huxloween

Stensland and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Night (and how it turned out sort of okay in the end, after all)

„Feck you! Feck you, Mister!” Stensland turned around to give Paul one last, withering glare, only to face the closed door instead.

That utter prick!

Stensland fought back tears. Why? Why did he always end up with people like that? It seems like he was always attracted to the wrong sort of person. Either the ladies who just wanted to use him for his body, or the blokes who were so deep in the closet, they should rightfully smell of mothballs and laundry detergent.

GodDAMMIT!

Honestly, when he first discovered that he swung both ways, he’d been utterly delighted. After all, it meant he needn’t limit his search for his soulmate, the love of his life, to just one gender anymore. But it didn’t take long for his elation to turn sour. Because, really? He could understand why the ladies so often complained about how they men were treating them now. The amount of entitled arsehole-ness he’d been subjected to ever since he had started dating blokes …

But then, dating was probably a bit of an exaggeration, sadly. Like Paul (that cunt!) they usually just took him somewhere for a quick shag, only to kick him out right after without even a  bit of cuddling afterwards. It was demeaning. Utterly and thoroughly so.

Furiously, he blinked back the tears that were threatening to fall. It wasn’t that he was ashamed to cry. But gits like Paul didn’t deserve to have even as much as a single tear shed over them.

“Feck you, Paul” he hissed one last time, before he took off in the direction of the nearest subway station.

It was the wee hours of the morning, and the streets were pretty quiet save for a taxi passing by every now and then, and the occasional drunk stumbling along the sidewalk.

He patted the back pocket of his mustard yellow corduroy trousers for his purse, when he saw the lights of the subway station’s entrance in a distance. But – fecking shit – it wasn’t there. Which probably meant that he’d left it back at Paul’s.

Oh, shite!

Whatever, it couldn’t be helped. All his money – which wasn’t much, but needed to last for the rest of the week – and his monthly ticket were inside, so he couldn’t just say ‘feck it’ and leave it there. As much as he loathed the idea of going back, he didn’t have a lot of other options. None, to be exact.

With a deep sigh, he turned around, resigning himself to the humiliation of having to grovel before the bloke how had kicked him out right after giving him the most spectacularly mediocre orgasm of his life.

He was about half-way there, when Stensland passed the entrance to a dark, narrow alley and heard something that made him stop in his tracks. A moan, but not one that was emitted in the throes of passion, but one of pain and despair.

Hesitating, he peered into the alley, but it was so narrow, the lights from the streetlamps couldn’t illuminate more than the first metre into it.

Stensland wasn’t a complete bloody flute (though some would say the jury was still out on that one). He knew it wasn’t the smartest call to make, but he ventured into the alley anyway. Just a quick peek to make sure no one was dying or anything, so he could be back on his merry way without having to carry a guilty conscience around with him for the next couple days.

It took a moment for his eyes to get at least a little used to the darkness. He wrinkled his nose. The place was cluttered with junk in various stages of decay, and it reeked of piss and other unsavoury things he didn’t even want to try and distinguish.

“Hello?” His voice sounded overly loud in the quiet of the night, and he felt kind of stupid for even calling out in the first place. Clearly, he had been mistaken and there was nobody there.

He was about to turn around, when he heard it again. Closer this time.

“Hello?” he tried again, despite his better judgement. Honestly, he should have just called 911 and be done with it. But no, of course he had to go check himself first like a total nutjob.

Well, maybe he was  a bloody flute after all.

Speaking of ‘bloody’ – was that a leg peeking out from behind the overflowing waste container?

Unthinking, he rushed forward, finding that, yes, it was a leg. And one that was attached to a body, no less. A distinctly male, and very impressive body, with a chest as wide as a barrel and biceps the chap could probably easily squash Stensland’s skull with. If he wasn’t currently busy writhing in agony that was.

“Hey”, Stensland squatted down next to him. “Are you okay?”

And what kind of question was that? It was pretty obvious the bloke was as far from okay as one could get. Stensland couldn’t find any obvious injuries, but that didn’t have to mean they didn’t exist. He wasn’t exactly an expert when it came to first aid. Actually, he had no clue what to do whatsoever. He kind of pitied the man that he, of all people, had been the one to find him. But then, he figured he was still better than no one at all.

The bloke’s only reply was another pained groan, which … okay, that was definitely a case for a professional, which he very assuredly was not. He took his phone out and flipped it open (yes, it was an old flip-phone, sue him), and deflated when the display was completely black. Dammit, he must have forgotten to charge it. Again. How unfortunate.

“Okay, Stensland, think … Think!”

He figured, it might be a good idea to take a closer look at the chap, to try to figure out what the feck was wrong with him. Maybe he was just completely rat-arsed or something. Highly unlikely, but a bloke could hope, right?

He bent forward and could finally see them man’s face – well, as much as possible in the rather dim lighting. The first thing Stensland noticed was how pale he was. As white as a sheet, making the smattering of moles on his skin stand out even more, like an inverted night sky.

His hair was dark and on the longer side, probably in an attempt to cover his rather big ears. Stensland caught himself thinking they were kind of charming, which probably was completely inappropriate, given the situation, but he couldn’t help it. And they matched his other features too, because everything about him was …  big. His nose was wide and long, his dark eyes deep-set and his mouth slightly crooked with lips that were currently pressed into a tight line.

He didn’t really seem to see Stensland at first, staring right through him, pupils blown wide. But then he blinked, and it was like a fog was lifted from his eyes. He gasped and then tried to scramble away, his attempt hindered by the dirty wall behind him.

“Go!”

“What?” Stensland was utterly flabbergasted. Of all the reactions he had expected, this wasn’t one of them. “I … you need help.”

“Go! Away!” he bit out, between harsh pants and pained moans. “I don’t know how long I can hold back. You have to leave. Now.”

“But …”

“Now!” He bared his teeth, and Stensland froze when he noticed the overly long canines curving over the bloke’s fat bottom lip.

What. The. Feck?

Another groan – but this time it turned into a growl half-way. And there was feral glint to his eyes that had not been there before.

It was that, more than anything else, that freed Stensland from his blank stupor. He scrambled back, or tried to at least, but he wasn’t fast enough. Everything happened so quickly, he could barely comprehend it. One moment he was sitting with his ass on the cold pavement, the next, he was pulled against the man’s (creature’s? thing’s) broad chest, manhandled like he was nothing more than a human-sized doll.

“Wait,” he pleaded, but he wasn’t sure his voice was even heard.

His heart was hammering and his whole body was thrumming with adrenaline. He couldn’t believe this was happening to him. Monsters were not supposed to exist. They were nothing but products of overimaginative minds. They had not business mixing with the real world.

His attempt to fight the man off were doomed to fail from the start, but he tried anyway. He kicked and scratched and punched, but it was like attacking a slab of concrete. If the man was feeling it, he sure as hell didn’t let it on.

The next thing Stensland felt was a sharp pain lancing through his neck, followed by a cold sort of numbness, like from anaesthesia. There was a sucking, slurping sound, and his foggy mind idly wondered how long it would take for him to die of blood-loss.

He wouldn’t mind for it to take a while. Now, that the pain was gone, it was kind of nice, even. Like floating on air.

Well, that was it, then, he thought, only mildly disappointed that he never had to chance to meet his other half, when his vision started to get grey and fuzzy at the edges.

*

Stensland usually woke up slowly and in increments. Not this time, though. His eyes snapped open, and he knew exactly where he was, and why.

What he didn’t know was, how he was still alive.

Carefully, he prodded the two little puncture wounds on the side of his neck with his fingers. They stung and felt slightly sticky, but weren’t actively bleeding, at least.

“Are you okay?”

His head whipped into the direction the voice had come from. Then he scowled at the looming figure hiding in the shadows. “What do you think? You bit me, you fecking animal!”

“I’m sorry,” came the soft reply. “I didn’t mean to, but … I was just so hungry when you found me. I lost control.”

Stensland scoffed. “Obviously.” He squinted into the darkness. “Are you wearing a fecking cowl? What is this, the bloody Middle Ages? Are you a monk? The least you can do, after what you did to me, is show me your goddamned face, don’t you think?”

After a moment of hesitation, the other man pulled back the hood of his jet back robes. His face shone cool and smooth like alabaster, but his eyes were of a surprisingly warm brown. There was regret in them. And self-loathing. Both things Stensland was painfully familiar with.

He watched him chew on his bottom lip with remarkably unremarkable looking canines.

“Better,” he said. “And now – care to explain the meaning of all this? Maybe start with your name, if you don’t mind.”

“Ben,” he said, looking down at his feet sheepishly. “My name is Ben and … I know it sounds crazy, but I’m … um … I’m sort of … a vampire?”

“Don’t worry,” Stensland deadpanned. “I have the marks to prove it, so I’m not overly sceptical. I’m Stensland, by the way. I’d say it was nice to meet you, but I doubt you’d believe me, given the circumstances.”

Ben barked a startled laugh. “I … You’re taking this remarkably well. Aren’t you scared?”

“Should I be?”

“No.” Ben’s shoulders dropped. He very much reminded Stensland of a scolded puppy. “I didn’t meant to drink from you,” he said. “I had managed to avoid attacking anyone for two weeks now, and at first it wasn’t so hard, but …”

“I assume it got harder in time?”

He nodded. “In fact it got worse and worse, up to the point where my instincts took over. I … I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to do … this. I stopped, once I got back to my senses, but it was too late. You were … You would have died, so …” Shrugging, he avoided looking at Stensland. “I guess you could say that I turned you. Even though I didn’t really have a clue what I was doing. I’m still pretty new to this, if you couldn’t tell.” Bashfully, he looked up. “Was it the wrong call to make? I didn’t get the chance to ask you what you wanted. I …”

“Are you asking me if I would have wanted you to let me die?”

He nodded.

“Hell, no!” he exclaimed. “I’m glad you did this. I … would have said yes, you know … if you’d asked me.”

“You would have?” Ben looked at him with an almost hopeful expression on his unusual but handsome face.

“Yes. And now, where are we going to stay? Don’t tell me you live in this dirty alley. I have to admit, I’m not too keen on appropriating some damp crypt or something.” He looked at Ben, frowning. “Do we have to sleep in coffins? I don’t have one, you know? I would honestly prefer my own bed, if that’s even an option. We could crash at my place. It’s a bit of a dump, but you don’t mind, do you?”

When Ben smiled, it took Stensland’s breath away. Or something like that, because breathing wasn’t a thing he did anymore. But, fecking hell, he was gorgeous. And maybe, Stensland thought, he had just had such an unlucky hand at picking potential partners in the past, because he’d been looking for them among the wrong species altogether?

Well, he’d see where the tingly feeling in his stomach would take him. But for now …

“C’mon,” he said, extending his hand towards Ben. “Let’s get home. I really need a shower, and,” he sniffed and curled his nose, “you should have one too. And afterwards, you can tell me everything I need to know about being a vampire. Alright?”

Ben nodded, smiling brightly again. “Alright.”

[timechange]

@doctorbrown asks: kid, is that you?

GODZILLA MINUS ONE (2023). always accepting.

Marty almost jumps out of his skin.

Sure, maybe he should've known better than to expect Doc, of all people, even thirty years younger, to be asleep at two in the morning, but it's been a rough day all around. Plus, in a house this enormous, even with a family of twelve living here you could spend a whole week without seeing anyone else.

Jesus, the house. He can't get over the house. It's decked out in fancy furniture and fluffy rugs and so huge that even if he wanted to get back to 'his' room, he doesn't know if he could without a map and compass.

"Uh, yeah," Marty finally responds. "Yeah, it's me. I, uh... I can't sleep. It's so... quiet."

Sure, it might sound babyish-- he's seventeen, for chrissakes-- but stuff like that's never mattered to Doc. And yeah, maybe it's not his Doc, but... he's Doc, and he's here, and he's alive.

He's way too beat to care about anything else.

"See, back home, there's always a-a dog barking, or some asshole blastin' the stereo. Maybe someone who left the TV on all night. A car alarm, Needles and his gang of losers tryin' to street race... something. But here..."

It's not even like camping where the woods are teeming with life and the waves of the lake are slowly lapping the shore. Here it's just the smell of cedar mothballs and must, the creaking and groaning of old pipes, and the faraway ticking of an old grandfather clock.

"Is it cool if I sit here with you?" Marty asks. "Helping you with your inventions... it, uh, helps. Chills me out. But, uh, you can say no if you want to. I totally get it."

[fatestouch]

change, pt 1.

It was a relatively quiet day at the Grimsbane estate, all things considered. Especially with how chaotic things had been lately.

And yet... some couldn’t help but feel that this was a calm before the storm. Many had witnessed how, in the case of the elders in the family, the normally at ease Felix had grown angry to the point where there was very nearly a slaughter.

So imagine the younger family member’s surprise when Felix just... left. Without a word. It was jarring, and eerie. Not to mention that some of them saw a bat flying away after Felix, before they both vanished into shadows.

The older ones thought nothing of it, called them cowards. But a few of the younger witches... oh, they knew.

Something was coming.

“Some things will change, but the esteemed Grimsbane estate will always stay the same.”

It was like a blink. One moment, the courtyard was partially vacant. And in the next... there they were.

“And here I thought Juno was exaggerating... even the magic smells stagnant here. This is the magical equivalent of opening a dusty old closet that hasn’t been cleared out in years.” Killian gave the estate a judgemental look over. “Should I expect mothballs? Or tumbleweeds?”

“Now, that’s a bit rude, Killian! Even if it is a bit... dusty, here~” Lea smiled, delicately covering her nose. “Enzo was right, as always... this place is in dire need of intervention.” She looks over. “Spirit? Are you alright?”

“The air here is very... stifling. I don’t think I care for it.” He sighs, making a face. “Can we be about our business and be off, Master?”

“I get how you feel, Spirit, but be patient. Staying for a bit will be worth it, trust me.” Patting Spirit’s shoulder, Cecil’s gaze wandered... before landing on one of the witches staring at them, stunned and stock still. “Hm... you. What’s your name?”

“M-me...? Uh... Noel! ...Er, m-milord!”

Cecil smiled. “Noel. Why don’t you take the others here, run along and gather the elders here, hm? And...” He beckoned the young witch over, and leaned down to whisper in his ear. “Anyone who you think might be... more than a little stubborn. Or... resistant to change. Do you see what I’m saying~...?”

Noel looked up at Cecil then in wonder, and then his dark eyes shined with... something, before he nodded once, and turned to gather his friends.

And Cecil had to admit, they were swift. In a matter of moments, the courtyard was filled with people, and at the forefront were a small group of older witches and the elders.

Quite the crowd. Sweeping his gaze around, Cecil noted just how many seemed wary, anxious, confused... and the ones who looked anticipatory.

Interesting.

“You avoid returning for months on end, and when you finally return, you gather us in a group like cattle--”

Cecil didn’t even need to say anything before the man who spoke was decapitated without another word being said.

“You really should be more respectful, when in the presence of a god.”

“Spirit.”  Cecil’s tone was lightly chiding. “I know you’re in a bad mood, please save the fun for the main event, hm~?”

The witch huffed, but bowed his head nonetheless. “My apologies, Master.”

“No worries. But!” Cecil clapped once. “Let’s not waste any time. I’m here with a purpose, after all! And that purpose, gentlewitches of the Grimsbane family... is that I’m here to help you. You see, I’ve been going back and forth on the state of this family. And finally, I’ve seen what the problem is!”

“Rejoice. A new era for you all starts today, right here, right now.”

[puppyexpressions]

7 Surprising Autumn Dangers for Dogs

The dog days of summer will soon be behind us and cooler weather will soon be moving in. The leaves are starting to change, sweaters are being pulled out of storage, and our dogs are more eager than ever to get outside and play!

1. Shorter Days and Longer Nights!

In the shorter days and longer nights of autumn, it’s not uncommon for many dogs to get their daily walks after the sun’s already set. Though relaxing, nighttime walks introduce a whole set of dangers not present in the daylight. With reduced visibility, it’s more important than ever to be diligent in monitoring your dog closely to be sure he hasn’t found a potentially dangerous “roadside snack” to nibble on. Stay safe at night by carrying a flashlight along during walks.

It’s also important that your dog be visible to other people, animals, and oncoming cars when outside after dark. Consider using a reflective collar, an LED collar light, or a safety vest whenever you’re outdoors at night. 

2. There’s a Fungus Among Us!

This time of year, fallen leaves piled beneath trees or raked into cool, damp piles create the perfect environment for wild mushrooms to grow. While not all species of the fungi are toxic, it’s very difficult to identify and distinguish those that are. As a rule of thumb, keep your dogs away from any and all wildly growing mushrooms.

3. Fleas Reach Their Peak in the Fall!

Many pet parents mistakenly believe that fleas begin to die off as cooler weather approaches. Truth is, fall is actually the peak season for fleas! Only sustained cold (temperatures consistently reaching in the 30’s or lower) will kill off fleas. Because dog owners tend to back off or reduce their flea prevention this time of year while at the same time spending more time outdoors, flea infestations (and the itchy skin and allergies they bring with them) are more common in the fall than in the spring or summer.

Don’t forget to continue using a flea preventative throughout the fall season to keep these bloodsucking pests at bay.

4. Sweater Weather Means Mothballs!

Because even a single mothball can be deadly, pet parents may want to consider alternatives to keep moths away, cedar balls, chips, or blocks can be used in place of mothballs in drawers, or a simple sachet of lavender not only smells lovely, but repels the fiber-snacking pests naturally.

5. Keep Away From Antifreeze!

It only takes a few innocent licks of that sweet smelling goo on the neighbor’s driveway to kill a small to medium sized dog. Be very, very careful when walking your dog to be certain he stays well out of reach of antifreeze. And, prevent him from drinking from puddles or streams where antifreeze may have runoff.

6. A Cornucopia of Dangerous Fall Foods!

Steer clear of grapes and raisins which contain an unknown toxin that can lead to kidney failure. Avoid high-fat foods, like turkey skin and dark meat, ham, and gravy, which can lead to a painful and lifelong condition known as pancreatitis.

The day after Thanksgiving is the busiest day of the year for veterinarians diagnosing pancreatitis in dogs.  Though some nuts are safe, it’s best to avoid them all in favor of foods more species appropriate for your dog. Though it can be hard to resist those puppy dog eyes begging for a bite of your holiday meal, do your dog a favor and offer them a special dog-safe treat instead. 

7. Ragweed, Pollen, and Mold – Oh My!

Regular baths with a gentle dog shampoo can both rinse away allergens and soothe itchy skin. Keeping paws clean, either by wiping them every time your dog comes inside or with a paw washing station at the backdoor, can prevent allergens from being tracked around the house and onto bedding.

Now that you know what to watch for and are prepared for these surprising autumn dangers, you’re ready to enjoy the beautiful weather with your dog by your side!

[https-maxine-stuff]

“The brightest star on darkest night.”

Nine.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Tw: themes of hinted at ptsd, yelling, survivors guilt, and hallucinations.

Italics other than diary entries represent past memories

October 31st, 1978.

Dear diary, it's Halloween today, yay..

I feel sad for all the families who have lost their children, how they can no longer trick or treat with their kids they way they used to. It's heartbreaking to think about, knowing that there isn't a single thing I could've done to prevent that.

I get told I'm strong for surviving, but in all honesty I wish I had died that night, so I wouldn't be stuck with the constant struggle to get up, the struggle to keep my eyes open when I can see the mangled bodies of all those children. They are trying to recommend shock therapy to me and I honestly don't think it would help.

Nothing can get rid of these images, not the blood, not the pressure it applies to my chest when I hear a long serious of bangs, I can hear an axe chopping wood and I freeze and hyperventilate.

I don't think I'll ever be the same again.

- Maxine.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

"You've seem to be getting better, Maxine." The woman spoke, after her interaction with the last therapist they offered her a new one, seeing as male therapist's seemed to trigger that kind of response.

"It's Halloween.." she looked out the window of the small dingy room, it looked over a parking lot filled with cars, nice ones.

"Yes, it is. Do you like Halloween?"

She furrowed her brows for a moment before speaking, "I've always loved Halloween, the theme of horror had been such a big part of my life, I loved Stephen King books, I loved thrillers.. I loved Halloween."

"But horror now is just a bad memory correct?"

"..yes." Her eyes now narrowed on the woman. "..my boyfriend or well..ex-boyfriend enjoyed things like that too.. it was something we both could agree to, or well upon.." she laughed dryly.

-

"You can't handle this!?" She stared at Nick, her eyes wide with tears brimming the corners of them.

"Yes! I can't! You- you won't get out of bed! You refused to make any progress!"

"...Did you love me? Or was the idea of me that tempting."

"Max- I-" he seemed to stutter.

"Tell me, Nick. Did you love me?" Her voice broke slightly at the end. "Or- or was having a Shadysider girlfriend just a spot on your fucking bingo card?" She hit his shoulder a bit. "Was I just a game to you!?" Her voice kept breaking.

"No- what-"

"Tell me!! Tell me, Nick! Where's the boy I met huh?! Where's he!" She cried. "Where- Where's Mr.wasn't afraid of me! Or wanted to watch a movie every weekend as a hope for me to hold on! Well guess what! I lived! I lived!"

"Max! Please!" He grabbed her forearms holding the sobbing young woman in place. "I'm going to leave now.." she looked up at him through red bleary eyes.

"..please.."

-

"Maxine are you alright? You've seemed to be lost in thought."

"I'm..okay.." she sighed, "is the session over?"

"..yes, it is..I'm writing you a prescription for, Valium."

"Valium? My mother takes that.."

"Oh, uhm. Okay?" She wrote down the prescription and tipped it off the note pad and handed it to her.

"Take this, and I'll see you next, on Friday have a happy Tuesday.."

ੈ✩‧₊˚

Standing in line at the pharmacy her eyes just kinda drifted around the small store. "Next!" The cashier called out, she turned making her way upwards.

"Uhm, pick up? I think..I've never really done this." She handed the girl her prescription paper.

"One moment," she turned handing the paper off to someone in the back.

Maxine stood there awkwardly as the shuffling of bags and pills seemed to fill the air, suddenly more aware of the people coughing and sniffling their colds away.

"Here you go," she handed the small bag off "that'll be 15.40."

"Uhm, alright.." she pulled out some money and handed it to her, and headed off.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

Her eyes drifted over to the Shadyside bookstore, old and dingy.

A small smile tugged at her lips as she decided to head inside, the smell of mothballs and mildew hit her face almost instantly. Yet the store seemed to have this clean look to it, like it was taken care of nicely.

"Didn't you see the sign? We are closing soon so make it fast!" A male voice said from behind a shelf.

"Sorry! I wasn't paying attention to the sign." She looked over at the horror section but turned her eyes towards the romance section instead.

No more horror for her, she knew better. Maxine walked towards the area, old books scattered around, but this one seemed to catch her eyes the most 'Romeo and Juliet.' How sad, she grasped the old book in her hands, the sides of the hard cover seemed to be peeling and bent.

"Romeo and Juliet? A classic." She jumped a little at the voice as she turned her eyes towards the man.

"Hi." She smiled slightly.

"Hi, we close soon." He had such a sweet smile, but had the most unhappy tone.

"It's only.." she looked at her watch. "Two o'clock?"

"..."

"..."

"You gonna but that book or??"

"No need to rush me," she laughed a little. He stared at her expectantly.

“…”

“Aren’t you a tad rude..” she squinted as she looked at his name tag. “Rome.”

“I’m tired.”

“Same here but at-least I wouldn’t drive the customer out.” She rolled her eyes.

“Hey! We don’t get that many customers other than the old guys who think they still sell newspapers in here.” He hummed.

“Like Mr.Jenkins on Potters?”

“Yes! He’s so annoying, he needs to be put in a home..anyways.. book?”

“Yeah yeah, I’m buying.” He seemed relieved and lead her to the front.

“5.40 please.” He placed his hand out with a smile.

“Here,” she handed him the cash.

“Pleasure doing business with you, ms..”

“Maxine.”

“Pretty name for a pretty girl.” He winked.

“Weren’t you just trying to throw me out?”

“Is the flirting going to earn me a tip?”

“..No.” she laughed.

“Dammit.”