#vacation book haul

[franticvampirereads]

My vacation book haul from Bobs Beach Books, one of my favorite indie bookstores! The books in this haul:

The Snake Who Loved A Sparrow

Pack Of Lies

Summer Sons

The Girl From The Sea

A couple of these have been on my TBR list for quite some time and I can’t wait to read them! 😊

[blxopium]

a tiny haul

[bethly126]

Vacay Haul Post

[tometraveling]

vacation haul

[witchn-bitchin]

A relaxing vacation day consisting of

Reading A History of Vampires in New England at the coffee shop to start the morning

Drving 45min out to a small town to poke around antique shops - haul including small deer antlers

Navigating to a cemetery not on the map via directions given verbally by the antique shop clerk

Finding said cemetery, but it's on a rather steep hill covered in snow, so we only admire from a distance

Buying 5 new books

Watching Gone Girl at the request of my mother, going "oh so like, the relationship version of Fight Club" and proceeding to show my mom that movie

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Cool for the Summer 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power dynamics, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After finishing your degree, you return home only to find things aren't as you left them.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: Hellooooooooo. I've done it.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The heat is suffocating. There’s so many people crammed into the tight space. Enough to smother you and make you sweat. You're close to the end. 

The train is finally still and passengers rise to take down their bags and form a queue along the center aisle. You stay patiently in your seat. You’d rather wait there then brave the crowded shuffle as the impatience to disembark mounts. 

At last, the doors open and people begin to move. You don’t stand until the last person passes your row. Your suitcase is at the front of the car with the bigger luggage. 

Step-by-step you make your way up and slip your bag off the middle shelf. You haul it awkwardly to the door and the man on the ground helps bring it down. You thank him, looking only at his branded pin, and step off. 

You drag the bag behind you and hike up the smaller bag on your shoulder. You’re exhausted and it’s not even noon. The automatic doors stand open as the other passengers enter the station. You follow and wheel your bag to the side so you’re out of the way. 

You take out your phone. Your mother texted that she was here ten minutes ago. You can’t see much through the busy station. It’s summer and everyone is on their way somewhere; going home or heading out on vacation. 

You’re relieved to be back but you won’t be able to relax until you’re at your mom’s house. You can’t wait to hide in your room and catch up on your reading. After four years at college, you have a long list. 

As endless as your list may be, your reprieve won’t be. You have your degree now. You need to use it. Find a job, start your life, be an adult. The prospect is exciting but terrifying. More the latter as it entails associating with strangers. You’ve never been very good at that. 

You did so well in school because it’s all you did. You didn’t go out and party, you didn’t distract yourself with dating or drinking, you didn’t even sign up for that book club that looked fun. You only stayed in and studied and occasionally ate in the cafe instead of boiling ramen or ordering in. 

You don’t see her. You roll over to a free seat and sit. You text and ask where she is. 

The general public stirs around you, blending into your peripherals as you stare at your phone and wait. You’d be better off waiting outside. Maybe. There’s a line of taxis and it’s all clustered with people trying to claim one. 

“Ahem, excuse me.” The deep tone draws your head up but your eyes don’t go all the way. You focus on the man’s neck and the silver and brown stubble under his chin. He says your name and you sit up taller. “That’s you, right? Your mom showed me a pic. She’s just run to the bathroom.” 

“Huh?” You clutch your bag tight. 

“She did tell you I was coming, didn’t she?” He asks. 

You shake your head and gnaw on your lip, “no. Who are you?” 

You don’t know him. Not by his voice or the brief peek at his face. He’s older. Maybe her age. His dark hair is peppered with grey and his face is lined around his eyes and mouth, a few softer wrinkles in his forehead. His blue eyes are as bold as gems. 

“Bucky.” He answers as if that should be explanation enough. He offers his hand. “Finally, we meet.” 

You look around and accept his hand. You shake it. “Um, okay?” 

He lets you go and grabs the handle of your suitcase. You reach for it in panic and stand. You nearly tip over and barely avoid brushing against him. 

“She didn’t mention me. At all?” 

You shake your head. 

“Bucky,” your mom’s voice undercuts the awkward introduction. You turn to watch her flutter over. “Oh, sweetie, you’re home!” 

Your mom seizes you and wraps you in a tight hug. She usually lets you have your space. You’ve never been touchy feely but you don’t protest. It has been a while since you saw her. 

“Um, mom?” You murmur as she releases you. 

She steps back and looks between you and the stranger. No, his name is Bucky. 

“Oh, yes. You two. This is Bucky. Bucky--” 

“We met,” Bucky interrupts. 

“So sorry. I had an iced coffee on the way,” she trills. 

“Bucky?” You raise your brows in your mom’s direction. 

“You remember. I told you I met a guy,” she lowers her voice and nudges you. “This is him.” 

“Oh.” 

You vaguely remember her mentioning it after Christmas. You didn’t think too much about it. You don’t remember it coming up again. She always just said she went out or talked about chores. You wonder if she didn’t tell you on purpose. If maybe she expected you to overreact. 

“We thought we could take you out for lunch as a bit of a homecoming. That train food isn’t very filling.” She smiles. “Well, it was Bucky’s idea. He’s so sweet.” 

“Honey,” he chuckles. “Please, you’re giving me a lot to live up to.” 

“Erm. If you want.” You shrug. 

“Sounds like a plan. I’m starving.” Bucky pulls your bag away and you flinch again. “Ladies, first. Want me to get your other bag?” He offers and you shake your head.  

Your mom moves first and you quickly catch up to her. You wish she’d at least warned you. You’re entirely unprepared for this. She knows you don’t do well with new people but maybe that’s why she didn’t say anything. So you couldn’t come up with an excuse to get out of it. 

The sun beats down and adds to the sheet of sweat across your nape. Bucky looms behind you, his shadow skewing on the pavement, and you search for your mom’s car. You don’t see it. 

She leads you to a dark blue car and you stare at it dumbly. 

“Bucky drove,” your mom explains. The trunk pops as Bucky rolls your bag up. You step back as he lifts it inside. You thank him again as guilt bristles in your chest. 

You follow your mom around the side of the car, waiting for her lead. When she opens the door, you open the back one. When she gets in, you get it. When she clips in her seat belt, you do. Bucky gets in on the driver’s side and drops his keys in the little tray between the cup holders. He jabs the button to turn the engine. 

He doesn’t shift into gear right away. He does up his own seat belt, adjusts his posture, then fiddles with the mirror. You glance up as his eyes dart away in the mirror. Was he looking at you?

You pick at the hem of your sleeves button-up and lean into the door. You really hope you’re not in the way. You have that rotting sensation in your gut. You’ve ruined their day. 

“Alright, everyone buckled in?” He grips the wheel with one hand, the other hooking behind your mother’s seat as he cranes and backs out of the spot. You stare at his thick fingers as you slump down in self-consciousness. You know he’s only checking his rear window but you’re always paranoid of being seen. 

He rolls the car straight and steers between the slanted rows of vehicles. He idles behind the fleet of cabs and weaves his way through the chaos. Your mom sighs and shifts. She’s a less than patient driver. 

“So, we were thinking the new bar and grill, figured you haven’t been around to try it,” your mom explains. “But if you miss Dezi’s, we can go there. Me and Bucky love getting Sunday lunch there. You remember how we used to go?” 

Your lips twitch as you fright a frown. Dezi’s is your place. You and your mom went there since you were in grade school. Knowing she’s been taking him feels like a violation. The suspicion that you’re being replaced unnerves you. You don’t have any right to be mad about it. You’re grown now and your mom’s allowed to live her life. Thing’s change, they already have. 

“New place is fine,” you grumble. 

“Great! Megan recommended it. I’ve been dying to try it.” Your mom is elated. 

She’s never short of enthusiasm but you don’t know the last time she didn’t have a single complaint. If it’s a nice day, she’s disappointed she can’t be at the beach. If she has the day off, she’s upset she has to do the laundry, even if you offer to throw it in with yours. And when she finally gets her food at a restaurant, she laments that she didn’t order the chicken instead of beef. Maybe change is good. 

“Your mom’s a great tour guide. I don’t feel so lost anymore.” Bucky stops at a light and looks at her. “Uh, Lauren?” 

“Straight then left,” she instructs him with a point of her finger. Her nails are done. Not her usual chipped paint on her short square cuticles; she has a full set with a lovely almond shape. 

He follows her directions and continues through the green. You turn your attention out the window. You were only just home for the holidays but everything feels so different. Or maybe you are too.  

There’s nothing ahead of you no, yet everything at the same time. You haven’t found much in your job search. Every job your mom sent you, you applied. You trawled the online boards and even used the student career center for help with your CV. A dozen articles littered your feed deeming the market oversaturated. 

Another disappointment for your mom. You’re sure she won’t fail to mention this one. You exhale and twine your fingers together in your lap. 

“Tired, sweetie?” Your mom asks. 

“Uh, yeah,” you answer. It wouldn’t do any good to share your worries. You still have time to find a job. Eventually, you have to get something. 

“Alright,” Bucky flicks his blinker on and waits to turn. “Here we are.” 

He pulls into the lot of the bar and grill. It’s built to resemble a log cabin and the entire theme has a rustic tint. He slides into a spot and shuts the engine off. In the silence, your stomach rumbles loudly. 

“Hungry?” He chuckles and peeks back over his shoulder. As your mom jostles her purse and untangles her seat belt, he winks. Your blink dumbly and click the button to release yourself. 

“Sure.” Your voice creaks as you pull the door handle. It doesn’t budge. You try again. Then frantically feel around for the lock. 

“Oops.” Bucky turns and hits a switch. The locks thunk back. 

Your mom gets out first and you follow. Bucky catches up and brushes by you as he passes. He beats you both to the front door and opens it for you. You trail your mom and he stays close as he enters behind you. 

“Such a gentleman,” your mom praises and giggles. She sounds bubbly. You can’t remember her sounding like that before. 

“Table for three,” Bucky says to the hostess. 

Again, he lets you go ahead of him. Your mom is ahead of you as the hostess leads you into the dining room. You’re sat at a booth. You’re relieve to have a bench to yourself, facing your mother and Bucky, but she insists on being on the outside in case she needs the bathroom. That leaves you across from him. 

“Drinks.” Bucky intones as he grabs the slender menu. “Cocktails?” 

“What do they have?” Your mom leans on him as she reads over his shoulder. 

“Hmm, interesting. Apple cider’s a bit out of season,” Bucky comments. “Figured we should celebrate. Baby girl is home and graduated.” 

You wince at the reference. Baby girl? He sucks his teeth as he examines the menu then turns it around. He offers it across the table. 

“Think I'll stick to beer,” he says. 

“Go on,” your mom goads. “Get something special, sweetie. You earned it.” 

“Oh, it’s okay, I’ll just have water.” 

“It’s a special day,” she insists.  

“Well, er...” you take the menu and nod. You look down at the listings as your cheeks burn hot. You don’t like to argue, especially when there’s no good reason. 

You try to make sense of it. Blackberry sounds good but you’re not sure what bitters are. You don’t drink. You had one glass of wine at a New Years party with your mom’s friends a few years ago and didn’t really get the appeal. It made your stomach feel swishy. 

There’s a lemonade that sounds okay. You like lemonade. You settle on that and put the menu down. Your mother scoops it up and you apologise. You should’ve asked her if she needed it. 

A server appears and takes your drink orders as she doles out a set of larger menus. You take yours and listen as she recites the specials. You don’t really catch any of it. You’ve always done better with writing than oral instruction. She leaves and you wait for the others to open their menu before you do the same. 

“This is nice,” your mom says. “I’m so happy you two are getting along.” 

You force a smile and Bucky slips his arm around her and squeezes. Your eyes meet again and his cheek dimples beneath his beard. You quickly avert your attention back to the sandwich options.

Getting along? You barely know him. Not to mention, you didn’t expect him. No use in whining about it. He's here and your mother is happy. 

[whore4abby]

a room with a view; abby anderson

part one

warnings; older!abby, ditzy fem!reader, mdni

wc; 1.1k

you were getting tired of the bustling city-that-never-sleeps lifestyle, and it was starting to take a toll on you, leaving you feeling burnt out and in need of a little getaway for a while. you had decided to surf the web and look for any airbnb listings, preferably something a couple hours outside the city.

whilst idly scrolling through the available rentals, you eventually stumble upon a listing that catches your attention. the listing is for a room to rent on a charming farmstead nestled in a serene and rural part of a small town, surrounded by rolling hills and lush greenery that seems to span for miles and miles in all directions.

intrigued by the listing, you quickly make up your mind and decide to book this spontaneous getaway. the thought of being on a farm for a few weeks has you feeling giddy and excited about your new adventure, picturing yourself in the idyllic fields and playing with the animals, maybe even going for a dip in a nearby creek.

and after a few swift clicks of your freshly manicured fingertips and a trip to your purse to fetch your credit card details, you’ve finally secured your reservation. you try to hold back your excitement but before long you’re giggling and kicking your feet like a schoolgirl, rustling the soft floral sheets beneath you with your frenzied movements.

a couple weeks later, you find yourself driving up a long and winding path up towards the farmhouse. the fields either side of you filled with gorgeous wildflowers and tallgrass, the gentle breeze causing them to sway slightly. you hum along happily to the music emitting from your radio, a little smile on your face as you feel the warmth of the sun hitting your cheeks.

abby sits on the front porch of the farm house, a coffee mug in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other. she hears the low rumble of your engine and looks over as you slow down and pull up outside the quaint farmhouse. she watches you hop out of your little white convertible and prop your sunglasses up on your head, your wedged sandals crunching at the gravel beneath your feet as you saunter around to the trunk to grab your bags.

abby stands up, taking a final sip of her coffee before walking off the shady porch and towards you. she crosses her arms across her chest and stares at you, clearly unimpressed with your arrival. the clothes you’re wearing scream ‘city girl’ and she thinks you look a little ridiculous walking around in a short dress and high heels.

“i think you're in the wrong part of town, darlin’…” she blows out a big cloud of smoke and raises an eyebrow at you, looking you up and down and throwing the cigarette butt to the floor and stomping it out with the heel of her beaten up cowboy boots. “y/n right…?”

“yeah, that's me…and you’re abby, right?” you smile, before attempting to haul your luggage out of the car. abby nods and sighs before getting closer to help you with your things. “here, let me…” she mumbles, not waiting for your response before grabbing your bags and suitcases one by one. you watch her as she effortlessly lifts the bags and walks with them towards the modest home. you finally get a good look at the woman you’re gonna be spending the next month with, and you feel yourself start to get a little flustered around her as you watch her biceps strain against her plaid shirt.

you giggle softly and look up at her “i could’ve done that myself-” she smirks ever so slightly and gives you another subtle once over, “a pretty little city girl like yourself…? i don't think so, honey.”

abby looks down at you smugly, and gives you a sceptical look, speaking lowly, “ya know.. this is a farm right? this ain’t a vacation. you can’t be wearin shit like that. jesus christ, girl.” she mutters before she starts to take your bags into the farmhouse.

“this is where you’re gonna be staying.” abby sighs and almost rolls her eyes as she leads you down the corridor and into a bedroom. its a small room, nothing like what you’re used to back at home, but you’ll make do just fine. she sets down the pile of bags and stands with her hands on her hips in the doorway. “set your shit up…” she looks at you sternly.

“listen to me missy….im not dealing with any of this bullshit-” she gestures to the excessive amount of belongings you have, from the makeup to the ungodly amount of clothes and other useless material items.

“i don't want you leavin all your things around, yeah? this is my house and you’re gonna follow my rules whether you like it or not…understand?” you resist the temptation to roll your eyes and give her attitude, instead choosing to just nod for the sake of staying on her good side. and with that she turns on her heel and retreats back down the hallway and disappears out of sight.

you let out a heavy sigh and lay back on the bed, giving yourself a little time to adjust to your new temporary home before you start to unpack.

the next morning, you step out of your room, heels smacking against the hardwood flooring as you join abby at the table. she looks up from her newspaper in disbelief and scoffs at your choice of outfit, but its obvious she likes what she sees as her eyes drift down to your thighs, which are barely covered by your itty bitty denim shorts. “coffee?” she pushes over the pot towards you and your eyebrows furrow, “no iced lattes?” she snorts in amusement and shakes her head, “just drink the damn coffee, doll~”

you huff but still bring the mug up to your freshly glossed lips, drinking from the steaming mug, and shuddering a little at the bitter taste, “not even any sugar?” you give her an innocent smile, hoping to woo her into agreeing with you. but instead she looks at you as if you’ve deeply offended her, making it pretty clear she’s not willing to compromise on this.

she finishes reading and snaps the newspaper back together, throwing it down on the table and standing back up. “hey, wh- i wasn't finished!” you pout as she scoops up your mug and pours the coffee down the drain.

“remember what i said!? my house. my rules. now hurry up we got work to do-” she bites back harshly and opens up the door, ushering you out and resisting the urge to slap your ass as you pass by.

god this was gonna be hard work.

[readthephible]

120+ misc ship questions! ✨

pick a ship, then headcanon these questions to your pairing <3 some of these are smosh centric but they’re open for anyone to use!

1. who rushes to open doors for the other?

2. who drives more often?

3. who is more eager to jump in the shower with the other?

4. who takes self care more seriously?

5. what’s a song that reminds you of them?

6. what’s another couple / duo (real or fictional) that reminds you of them?

7. which one keeps more things because they’re sentimental?

8. which one tells their parents about their partner first? how does it happen?

9. whose family are they more likely to stay with during holidays?

10. whose parents are / were stricter?

11. who uses more emojis?

12. where was their first date?

13. what’s their favorite game to play together (any kind)?

14. which one spams posts / links to the other?

15. who is the black cat and who is the golden retriever?

16. what mythical creature / monster would they each be? (vampire, werewolf, dragon, fairy, etc.)

17. who urges the other to go sing a karaoke duet with them?

18. what is their karaoke song?

19. who is more likely to serenade the other at random moments?

20. who stares at the other from across the room?

21. who brings a shopping haul of clothes home and who watches their fashion show?

22. who insists on paying when they go out to eat?

23. who is more impulsive?

24. who is ‘everything’ and who is ‘just ken’? /ref

25. whose main goal is it to make the other blush?

26. who is first to know about a new trend, meme, slang, etc.?

27. who gets up early to make the other breakfast?

28. who insists they are their pets’ parents?

29. do they have pets together? what kind, what names, etc.

30. who is more of an animal whisperer / befriends wild animals?

31. who has more patience?

32. who insists on fixing something themselves, and who would rather call a repair service?

33. who turns something into an innuendo first?

34. who takes longer to understand a joke or reference?

35. who hides in the other’s arms during a horror movie?

36. who is more jumpy / scared easily?

37. who makes more movie references?

38. who thinks die hard is a christmas movie, and who doesn’t?

39. who talks more during a movie?

40. who carries the other bridal style?

41. what are their thoughts on marriage?

42. what’s the last name situation when / if they get married? (who’s last name do they take, do they keep theirs, do they hyphenate)

43. who wants the less traditional wedding?

44. where do they get married, and where do they honeymoon?

45. where is their favorite place to travel?

46. what do they do on vacation?

47. which one overpacks and which one underpacks?

48. who is the yapper and who is the napper?

49. which one is a lighter sleeper?

50. who is the moon and who is the sun?

51. who collects more? (figurines, pokemon cards, etc)

52. who is more excited to decorate for the next holiday / event?

53. who stopped believing in santa later than the other?

54. do they want kids together? give me all the details - names, what traits they inherit, etc.

55. who is a stricter parent and who is more lenient?

56. who reads a book, and who reads over the other’s shoulder while cuddling?

57. which is booba and which is kiki? /ref

58. who believes in soulmates and who doesn’t?

59. who gets nostalgic more easily?

60. who is more of a perfectionist?

61. who hosts more parties?

62. who makes handmade gifts more often for the other?

63. which one is more formal when answering emails?

64. who prefers skinny jeans and who prefers baggy jeans?

65. who’s better at roasting the other?

66. who initiates more pda?

67. which one is better at censoring their language, and which has less of a filter?

68. who insists on being player one?

69. which one snores like “honk shoo” and which snores like “hoooonk mimimi”?

70. who gives more forehead kisses to the other?

71. what does their future look like?

72. which one believes in astrology more?

73. what was their first kiss like?

74. who steals the other’s clothes more often?

75. who steals the other’s food more often?

76. do they believe in ‘celebrity hall passes’? if so, which celebrities are theirs?

77. what matching couples costumes do they wear?

78. who is naturally more cold / more hot?

79. which is more extroverted?

80. how do they celebrate valentine’s day?

81. what’s a holiday tradition they have? (ex. presents before breakfast on christmas)

82. what niche pet names do they have for each other?

83. who hates small talk and would rather have deep conversations?

84. what’s their icebreaker / olive branch after a disagreement?

85. what kind of food or restaurant is their favorite to get together?

86. who believes in conspiracies more?

87. which had their friends try to set them up?

88. think of your favorite movie, then incorporate your pairing into it somehow and talk about it.

89. when they’re separated in public, what do they yell out to find each other?

90. professors!au. what subjects would they teach?

91. ghostmates!au. who is the ghost that haunts the other?

92. soulmates!au. how are they connected? do they have matching tattoos, names written on them, etc.

93. punk x pastel!au. which is which?

94. historical!au. what time period are they in? what are they up to?

95. hospital!au. who’s the doctor, who’s the patient, and how did they get in that situation?

96. massage parlor!au. who is the masseuse, who is getting the massage?

97. angel x demon!au. who is the angel and who is the demon?

98. gender swap!au. what are their names? (ex. anthony is antoinette)

99. superpowers!au. are they hero and sidekick? mortal enemies? villain duo? what powers do they have?

100. timeloop!au. who is stuck and who helps them out of it?

101. royalty!au. who is the royal and who is the knight / guard / maid etc.?

102. magic!au. what kind of magic do they use?

103. who uses uppercase while texting and who uses lowercase?

—

nsfw / suggestive ⚠️

1. what’s their favorite position?

2. who uses their mouth/teeth/tongue more?

3. who uses their hands/nails more?

4. who is a bit more adventurous?

5. who is more willing to go to a sex shop in person, and who is more embarrassed?

6. who is more into dirty talk?

7. who is more into eye contact?

8. what was their most risky / adventurous experience?

9. who likes to bite, and who likes to be bitten?

10. what is their favorite sexual activity to do together / to the other?

11. which is more dominant / which is more submissive?

12. what was their first time like?

13. who likes to be spanked more?

14. who sends dirty texts more often?

15. mile high club? yes or no?

16. what’s something they reserve for special occasions?

17. how long into their relationship did it take for them to have sex?

18. how often do they have sex?

[raz-writes-the-thing]

first masterlist

this masterlist has hit the link limit. please see SECOND MASTERLIST for more works

masterlist masterpost

fandoms are in alphabetical order

BAD SAMARITAN

Cale Erendreich x Reader

Full-Length Fics (600 words plus)

It's The Dominance Of The Thing - (Cale Erendreich x Fem!Reader) 18+ ONLY

Cale wants you to ride his boot.

Drabbles (600 words or less)

Your Devil - (Cale Erendreich x GN!Reader)

You want Cale to get a little dressed up for the trick or treaters on Halloween. Cale is less than impressed.

Names A Plenty - (Cale Erendreich x GN!Reader)

Cale wants to know why you have a book of baby names.

BROADCHURCH

Alec Hardy x Reader

Headcanons

Alec taking fem!readers virginity HCS 18+ ONLY

Full-Length Fics (600 words plus)

Confessional Feelings - (Alec Hardy x GN!Reader)

You find your feelings for Alec exposed after running into him after his date.

Unconditional Support - (Alec Hardy x GN!Reader)

It takes a while for you to get used to receiving love and affection, but this time it was just a little too much.

Starving - (Alec Hardy x GN!Reader) 18+ ONLY

Alec discovers you fantasise about his tongue. A lot.

Rough Around the Edges - (Alec Hardy x Fem!Reader) 18+ ONLY

You and Alec have been working on expanding yourselves in the bedroom. Today Alec wants to try something new

Mortified - (Alec Hardy x GN!Reader fem anatomy) 18+ ONLY

Being in the office so late usually meant that you had complete privacy- though that doesn't account for people leaving things behind, does it?

Crimes of Essex Proportions - (Alec Hardy x GN!Reader)

Alec's stuck on his case. You just so happen to know exactly what he needs to know.

Tomorrow Problem - (Alec Hardy x GN!Reader) 18+ ONLY

Sometimes all you need for a little fun is, like, twelve drinks and a good laugh.

Deep, Deep Down - (Alec Hardy x GN!Reader)

Your menstrual cycle was always the worst, but Alec does his best to make it better.

Drabbles (600 words or less)

Alec Hardy Drabble - (Alec Hardy x GN!Reader)

Alec doesn't know how to deal with the fact that you think he's a DILF

Your DILF - (Alec Hardy x GN!Reader) 18+ ONLY

Alec decides to own the fact that he's a DILF

Interested - (Alec Hardy x GN!Reader) 18+ ONLY

Alec's interested in receiving some attention from behind, if you know what I mean.

Enticing - (Alec Hardy x Fem!Reader) 18+ ONLY

Alec comes home and ruins your anniversary surprise for himself.

Missed - (Alec Hardy x GN!Reader)

Alec's been away for a while. It's safe to say he missed you.

Out In The Sticks - (Alec Hardy x GN!Reader)

It's high time you forced Alec to take a vacation.

Bullshite Doctors - (Alec Hardy x Fem!Reader)

Alec is shocked by the type of care females get at the doctors.

DOCTOR WHO

Tenth Doctor x Reader

Blowjob HCS 18+ ONLY

Relationship HCS 18+ ONLY

Full-Length Fics (600 words plus)

Running Towards Something - (Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader)

The Doctor is in need of some comfort after a nightmare.

Nightmares No More - (Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader)

It's no surprise that your nightmares pick up again since beginning travelling with the Doctor, but the Doctor has just the fix.

Almost Too Far Gone - (Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader)

It's when the Doctor starts messing with things he shouldn't that you realise that you're growing afraid of him. Is it time to slip away unnoticed?

Riled Up - (Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader) 18+ ONLY

The Doctor grows tired of you trying to work him up.

In It For The Long Haul - (Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader)

Almost dying repeatedly will wear anyone down eventually, and you're not sure how much more of this you can take.

Could Have Been On A Picnic - (Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader)

You're pretty sure the Doctor cooks things like this up specifically to irk you. After all, you could have been on a picnic today.

Best of Friends With A Little Extra - (Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader) 18+ ONLY

Prompt: “People who’re just friends don’t do shit like this, and you know it.”

Nothing At All- (Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader)

Your feelings for the Doctor are outed, and you're pretty sure he doesn't feel the same way. Thank God you're wrong, eh?

Cocktails and Confessions - (Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader)

You don't mean to confess your love, but in your defence, you are about three and a half whiskies deep.

Perhaps It's Time - (Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader) 18+ ONLY

You think you're finally ready to have your cherry popped.

Love Drunk - (Tenth Doctor x Masc!Reader) 18+ ONLY

The Doctor jerks you off. That's it, that's the fic.

Accountability - (Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader)

You're gone, and it's the Doctor's fault. How is he supposed to live with himself now?

Trans Pride - (Tenth Doctor x Masc!Reader)

You can't believe the Doctor didn't know you were trans.

Drabbles (600 words or less)

Mild angst/fluff Ten Drabble - (Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader)

"The world needs more people like you / "Do it or die trying!"

DW Prompt Drabble - (Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader)

"I'm here to save your sad little ass." / "Hey! My ass isn't little. It's.... average size."

DW Prompt Drabble - (Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader)

"What did you do?" / "Nothing you can't get me out of jail for!" / "Not again!"

DW Prompt Drabble - (Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader)

"You know, this reminds me of the time I met the president."

DW Prompt Drabble - (Tenth Reader x GN!Reader)

Prompt: “I’m about to say ‘shut up’ and if you respond with a ridiculously flirtatious ‘make me’ I will slap you.”

DW Drabble - (Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader)

The Doctor comes into contact with some (non-sexual) stimulants

Touchy (Drabble) - Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader)

The Doctor asks about your touchy nature.

For Research Purposes - (Tenth Doctor x Masc!Reader)

In order to save the universe, you're pretty sure you need to kiss the Doctor again. There's no harm in trying...

Marks - (Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader) 18+ ONLY

The Doctor really enjoys seeing his marks on your skin.

GOOD OMENS (TV)

Aziraphale x Crowley x Reader

How They'd Deal With Anger Issue!Reader

How They'd Take Care of You HCS

Full Length Fics (600 words plus)

Angel's Blood - (Aziraphale x GN!Vampire!Reader + a hint of Crowley) 18+ ONLY

It's entirely an accident when you discover Angel's blood is an aphrodisiac for Vampires.

Demon's Blood - (Aziraphale x Crowley x Fem!Vampire!Reader) 18+ ONLY

Part two to 'Angel's Blood.' You've tried, Aziraphale. It's high time you tried Crowley, too.

A Fair Few Questions - (Aziraphale x Crowley x Reader)

In which the Reader finds out Aziraphale and Crowley are Supernatural entities and has a fair few questions for them.

Snack Foods - (Aziraphale x Crowley x GN!Reader)

You're originally from the US and are feeling homesick. Your partners somehow just always know what to do to make you feel better.

Crotch-Punching Distance - (Aziraphale x Crowley x Reader)

Jim, short for James, James short for Gabriel- or was it James, long for Jim and short for Gabriel? Is really getting on your nerves.

Follow on drabble post

Birth One, Get One Free - (Aziraphale x Crowley x Fem!Reader)

You're the birth mother of The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Prince of this World and Lord of Darkness and you find you need Crowley's help with making sure you get to keep your little Antichrist.

Drabbles (600 words or less)

Movie Magic - (Crowley x Aziraphale x Reader)

Aziraphale and Crowley comfort the reader after a bad day.

Five More Minutes (Drabble) - (Aziraphale x Crowley x GN!Reader)

Your partners catch you singing under your breath.

Sleepy Things (Drabble) - (Aziraphale x Crowley x GN!Reader)

Aziraphale and Crowley sleep much, but they love to cuddle you to sleep when the opportunity arises.

Warming Up (Drabble) - (Aziraphale x Crowley x GN!Reader)

You're cold. Aziraphale and Crowley can't have that, can they?

Show To Catch - (Aziraphale x (fem!presenting!)Crowley x GN!Reader)

Prompt: "Everything would be a lot easier if you fucking sat still."

Little Moaner - (Crowley x GN!Reader + smidge of Zira)

Crowley has the shits with you and he's being petty about it.

Bear It All - (Aziraphale x Crowley + GN!Reader)

You reflect on the fact that you love Crowley and he doesn't love you back quite the way you want him to.

Aziraphale x Reader

Full Length Fics (600 words plus)

Much Better - (Aziraphale x GN!Reader)

You've had a long day, but that's okay. Aziraphale always knows just what to do.

Drabbles (600 words or less)

What Would They Think? - (Aziraphale x GN!Reader) 18+ ONLY

Prompt: “What would they think if they could see you now, hm?” 

Crowley x Reader

Headcanons

Angel!Crowley HCs for Shy!Singer!Reader

Full-Length Fics (600 words plus)

Paper Boat - (Crowley x Reader)

Crowley needs a little comfort but has trouble asking for it.

Going Steady? - (Crowley x GN!Reader)

Reader comes out to Crowley as gay, and it comes to light that Crowley was rather interested too.

No Pity for the Wicked - (Crowley x GN!Reader) 18+ ONLY

Crowley fucks the reader in the Bentley (post-S2)

Flushed (Crowley x Fem!Reader) 18+ ONLY

Reader doesn't expect Aziraphale to be at the Bookshop when they show up in nothing but a trench coat. Crowley teasing Reader ensues.

Untitled - (Crowley x GN!Reader)

The Reader has had a Day(tm) and comes to Crowley for comfort.

Helping Hand - (Crowley x GN!Reader) 18+ ONLY

Crowley catches you reading a NSFW novel and gives you a helping hand.

Not Just Friends, Then? - (Crowley x GN!Reader)

FWB!Reader accidentally tells Crowley they love him.

Last Meal - (Crowley x GN!Reader) 18+ ONLY

Crowley really, really, likes to eat you out.

Better Hurry - (Crowley x Fem!Reader) 18+ ONLY

Prompt: “if i have to pull over, you won’t be able to walk for a week.”

Bentley Shenanigans - (Crowley x Fem!Reader) 18+ ONLY

Crowley needs to relieve some frustrations after that shitshow of a birthday party.

Drabbles (600 words or less)

"I'm Inside Your Walls" - (Crowley x GN!Reader)

Reader visits Crowley's flat for the first time.

Good Toys - (Fem!Presenting!Crowley x Fem!Reader) 18+ ONLY

Prompt: “I am going to fuck every last thought out of this pretty head.”

Little Minx - (Fem!Presenting!Crowley x GN!Reader) 18+ ONLY

It's nice to lay in and snuggle.

PRIMEVAL (TV SHOW)

Connor Temple x Reader

Drabbles (600 words or less)

Wolverine or Spider-Man? - (Connor Temple x GN!Reader)

You meet Connor at the bar. He's pleasantly surprised by the topic of conversation.

PRODIGAL SON

Martin Whitly x Reader

Martin Whitley HCS X X

Soft!Dom Martin HCS

Full-Length Fics (600 words plus)

Science Behind the Madness - (Martin Whitly x Fem!Reader) 18+ ONLY

You're lucky to have a sexual partner so versed in the science behind the female orgasm.

Study Materials - (Martin Whitly x GN!Reader)

Martin loves your singing voice. How convenient that it helps you study.

A Collared Occasion - (Martin Whitly x Fem!Reader) 18+ ONLY

Martin gets you a collar.

Drabbles (600 words or less)

Martin Whitly Drabble - Martin Whitly x GN!Reader 18+ ONLY

Prompt: “you look so pretty when you’re cumming for me.” (but not smutty)

Cute As A Button (Drabble) - (Martin Whitly x GN!Reader)

Martin will do anything to make you smile.

Kisses - (Martin Whitly x GN!Reader)

You really want to cover Martin in kisses. What a shame his guard is distracted.

No Crowds, Thanks - (Martin Whitly x GN!Reader)

You're not a fan of crowds, but Martin always keeps you safe.

Just A Trim? - (Martin Whitly x GN!Reader) 18+ ONLY

Martin asks if he should get a haircut. You don't think he should.

SECRET SMILE

Brendan Block x Reader

Brendan charm HCs

THE WALKING DEAD (TV)

Negan x Reader

Full-Legnth Fics (600 words plus)

Negan x GN!Virgin!Reader HCs

Distraction - (Negan x Reader) 18+ ONLY

Negan consoles the reader by offering them a distraction from their recent break-up.

Binders and Bonding - (Negan x GN!Reader)

Negan catches the Reader trying on a binder.

That Smile - (Negan x TransMale!Reader)

Negan offers some very Negan-esque support when he discovers that the Reader has had to deal with some transphobic issues at the Sanctuary.

Dirty Girl - (Negan x Fem!Reader) 18+ ONLY

Negan fucks the reader up against a fence.

Acquired Tastes - (Negan x GN!Reader) 18+ ONLY

Negan likes to see just what it takes to wake you up sometimes.

Drabbles (600 words or less)

Suds (Drabble) - (Negan x GN!Reader) 18+ ONLY

You invite Negan to come shower with you.

Not Little Red - (Negan x GN!Reader) 18+ ONLY

You really shouldn't enjoy egging Negan on as much as you do.

Against the Rules - (Negan x Fem!Reader) 18+ ONLY

Negan returns to encourage the Reader to be bad for him. He just needs to let off some steam.

[lialacleaf]

To Care For A Woman

Chapter 4

Simon Riley x Reader

Summary: You join the army as a last-ditch effort to avoid destitution, but when you sustain an injury protecting Lieutenant Ghost and earn yourself a medical discharge, you're stuck all over again. Or maybe not...

Warnings: Tension, Simon wants to care for you, small reader, a little bit spicy but not NSFW, man worrying about a woman's safety, typical cannon violence, deception, I'm sorry it's unedited...

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

You were beginning to feel like Simon was hiding something. When he went out on missions he was insistent that you didn’t contact him. At all.

You never once wondered if there was another woman involved, Simon was too good to you for it to be that.

He was just so closed off when it came to the topic of work, and you weren’t sure why. Maybe he was battling PTSD, and trying not to let it color your relationship.

It had been six months since you had married Simon, two of which he’d spent deployed somewhere. Your parents had asked if you were coming home for the holidays, and you told them you would be working.

They still believed you had a job. In a way you did. When Simon wasn’t home you did light house chores, now that Dr. Radcliffe had cleared you for more movement.

Your leg was still weak, and running was out of the question. You’d begged Simon to let you get a dog but he’d bit his lip, given you a pained look, and explained that it wasn’t fair to the animal if you couldn’t care for it properly.

You’d nodded in agreement but it had hurt all the same. You were lonely when he was gone.

“So what are we doing for the holidays?” You asked as Simon washed the dinner dishes and handed them to you to be put away.

He shrugged as he scrubbed pasta sauce off one of the plates. “Haven’t celebrated in a while,” he admitted, handing you the next clean dish.

“Do you ever visit your family?” You asked.

“Have you ever been to Cambridge?” He went about scrubbing the cup your tea was in.

“I’ve never been to the UK, just the parts of Europe the 141 has taken me. Is that where you’re from?” You asked in excitement.

“No, I grew up in Manchester,” he said, passing you the cup.

“Is your family in Cambridge now?” You asked, feeling as if the conversation had gotten slightly off topic.

“No.”

You blinked in confusion. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to spend the holidays in Manchester with your family?”

“It doesn’t have to be Cambridge, London is nice too,” he added, drying his hands on the spare dish towel. “We’ve got a few weeks to decide anyhow.” He gave you a quick kiss on the forehead before disappearing into the bathroom.

You gaped slightly, blinking in confusion. What just happened? Had he really just swept your questions about his family under the rug with the distraction of a holiday vacation?

Maybe it was only fair. You’d made no effort to introduce Simon to your parents, but that was different. You were a daughter, not a son. If your parents found out their little baby girl had been injured, and married off to some strange man, your father would blow a fuse.

You knew very little about Simon though. The only thing you knew about him was his strange relationship with Ghost. Why was someone as sweet as Simon even mates with someone like Ghost?

~

Simon had started taking you into town once a week. He didn’t like to keep you cooped up, and Dr. Radcliffe had warned him you’d end up in trauma therapy if he kept you isolated during recovery.

Simon was relieved you didn’t display much interest in going to the mall. You were perfectly happy to go to the park and pet dogs, or go to the bookstore for hours on end.

You were begging to accumulate a small library, and sooner or later he’d need to build you a bookshelf.

“Out for the weekly book haul I see,” Jesse, the store owner said as you approached her counter, most of your books in Simon’s arms. You grinned at her as she scanned your latest finds. “You’re practically keeping me in business at this point.”

You shrugged and gave Jesse a bright smile. “You had new stuff in the gardening section, thought it might be helpful for the herbs we just planted,” you said, flashing Simon a grin.

He didn’t give you much of a reaction, but that was normal when he was in public. He wasn’t exactly fond of strangers, but he tolerated Jesse for the free cups of tea she bestowed on the two of you when you sat down to read in her cafe.

She’d never asked for the details of your relationship with Simon, but she always chuckled softly when he handed over his debit card without so much as a grumble for your somewhat expensive taste in books. A man that supported his partner's love of books was a good man in her opinion.

Jesse placed your books in a bag and handed them to Simon with a smile, unbothered by his flat expression and aversion to talking more than what was necessary.

“Have you decided where you want to go for Christmas yet?” He asked as he helped you load into his truck.

“Maybe we should stay home this year. I was just thinking it’d be harder to travel with my leg, and you already don’t like crowds, I can’t imagine how busy London must be this time of year…” you trailed off as Simon buckled into the driver’s seat. “But I would like to put up a tree!” You added.

Simon raised a brow at you as if he were amused by your declaration. “A tree?”

“Yeah! A Christmas tree! And we could have some of your teammates over-“

“They’ll be with their families,” he stated quickly.

Your smile fell. Oh. Right. “Maybe just the Captain then?”

Simon bit his lip but nodded. Price was aware of the situation, and the least likely to spill the beans. He supposed inviting his Captain over for a holiday meal would be alright.

“Speaking of family,” you began carefully, “Can we stop by the post office next week? I’d like to ship my parents' Christmas presents,” you requested softly.

Simon glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “Would you like to see your family?” He asked, and you shook your head.

“No, I…” you trailed off, unsure of what to say.

“You haven’t told them.” It wasn’t a question. He’d heard your phone calls with them. They still thought you were working for Price.

“It’s…it’s not that I don’t want you to meet them. It’s just that I don’t want them to worry, and I know that they will.” Simon nodded, grasping your hand gently in his. “I’ll figure something out…eventually.”

“I have to go for a mission next week, but I’ll be back before Thanksgiving. We can put up the tree when I get back. I’ll…leave the truck with you, you can make it to town on your own?” He asked.

Your eyes widened in surprise. You hadn’t expected him to even offer, but now that you thought about it, it was a little ridiculous to expect you to stay put while he was gone. It was your left leg that was injured after all, you could still drive.

“Yeah, I know the way. Thanks, Simon,” you said, offering him a brilliant smile.

“Just be careful,” he reminded you. He’d leave a pistol with you just in case. The holidays were always more dangerous. He was starting to regret not getting you that dog. He would have to look into putting up a fence, but that was a long term project that he’d need a longer break from work to accomplish. Like hell he was gonna pay some stranger to come out to his home where his wife was to do the job.

Once the truck was parked and your books were unloaded, Simon went about doing his chores while you made lunch. At some point you heard the buzz of his saw outside. He seemed to always have some sort of project going.

You couldn’t stop thinking about the other night as you went about piling chicken salad on two croissants. Why was he so closed off concerning his family?

You eyed you bedroom door, wondering if you should just leave it alone, or put your detective skills to work.

You left your plates on the counter as you slipped into your bedroom. Simon didn’t keep many personal items, therefore your nightstand was always a little more cluttered than his between your laptop, medications, and other odds and ends.

You weren’t exactly sure what you were looking for. All you really knew about Simon was his name and that he’d grown up in Manchester. Your search would likely yield little result.

At least that was what you thought until you were starting at a death record. A death record for Simon Riley, bearing the same date of birth and identification information that was on your marriage certificate.

“Y/n?” You jumped, your head shooting up to see Simon in his sweaty work clothes standing in the doorway. “Gonna hop through the shower before lunch…everything alright?” He asked, noticing how pale you’d gone.

“I…um, yeah, yeah I’m fine.” You sputtered, closing your laptop screen. “I’ll go finish lunch,” you said, limping back into the kitchen.

Simon watched you, his head cocked to the side, before he shrugged, and stripped down to get a shower.

You tried to ignore the knots forming in your gut. Simon Riley was dead, and you had no unearthly clue who this man was. Did Ghost know? Had he unwittingly sent you right into the arms of someone dangerous, or was Ghost well aware of who Simon really was?

Your hands shook as you went about finishing the lunch preparations, and you quietly set the table, hyper aware of the other person in the house.

Simon was still in the shower, you had time to go back for your laptop. You quickly made your way into the bedroom, lifting the screen as you sat on the bed.

Your eyes scanned over the obituary with concern. Simon Riley…served in the royal army…died in a fire…no body…wait…no body?

You scrolled down a bit until you got to the photo at the bottom of the page. It was your Simon. You felt your throat tighten.

Why was your Simon supposedly dead? It made no sense. The man in the picture, albeit a little older, was currently showering in the bathroom.

You scanned through the rest of the obituary, noticing the mention of his family. Each name was highlighted, and you risked clicking on the name of the previous Mrs. Riley.

You felt like you were going to hurl when you were greeted with an even more morbid obituary. His entire family was gone. Murdered. Stolen right out from under him. It suddenly made sense. His overprotective nature was simply a trauma response. It still didn’t explain the falsified death certificate, but it was a start.

It wasn’t until you were staring into the photographed eyes of Tommy Riley that it clicked.

Tommy had brown eyes, practically identical to Simon’s. There was one other person you knew of with those eyes. One other person who’s voice sounded so similar to Simon’s, even if it was a little rougher.

Was Tommy…Ghost?

AN: OOOOOH Ya'll excited? We get spicy next chapter...

Tag List:

@warenai @livynicole @ghostlythots @hilowhiho @mrmountainman @miamia89 @shiraya92 @crocodilefeet2707

@zzariyahchan @gaida-511 @misshoneypaper @soldierlass @dazaiscum @mockerycrow @kaysav608 @classygardencroissantcolor @innerskylover @kristalhi @hotaruteba @tzutology @sushiumex @l3xiluve @immajustlikeok

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@novausstuff @copiasratscheese @i-feel-violated @itsagrimm

[deathbecomesthem]

No pressure, but is this prompt something you’d do??♥️

You both unknowingly book the same haunted Airbnb and find out you're stuck together for the night.

This has been a long time coming. Eddie Munson x gn!reader - +18 ONLY. I don't know what I can tell you about this fic without giving away the plot. 3.2K words.

This is prompt #14 on the Stranger Prompts list that @bettyfrommars @somnambulic-thing and @allthingsjoeq put together in February. I hope you enjoy this.

Prompt: You both unknowingly book the same haunted Airbnb and find out you're stuck together for the night. 

---

The cabin is exactly what you need. It’s just what the doctor, your psychiatrist,  ordered. A clean break from the city for 3 nights out in the mountains. There’s cell service, but it’s patchy. You found that out on the first night, having to walk all the way to the edge of the property to call in to the office and let them know you’d officially be unavailable for any emergencies while you were out of town. After that first night you find yourself checking that useless brick in your pocket less and less often. 

You didn’t pick the cabin because of its reputation. The reviews are immaculate, and not just from the people that come out here hoping for a close encounter with the resident spirit. Your assumption is, especially now that you’ve spent one night here, that the haunting is a ploy to get more people to rent the property. It doesn’t matter to you if there truly is a ghost sharing the cabin with you, as long as it doesn’t leave the toilet seat up.

Right now, you’re lying in the bedroom at the back of the cabin under a heavy crocheted blanket. It smells like cedar and leaves. You left the window open last night, and the autumn air is carrying the scent of decaying leaves into your room. It’s cold on the tip of your nose, but the rest of your body is held in the comfortable warmth of the big bed. With the window open, you can see the night fading away as the sun begins to make its sleepy journey back to the daytime. You decide to follow its lead and start the day.

Coffee tastes better on the back porch; or maybe you’re able to take the time to actually enjoy it without the distraction of everyday life. Either way, you sit on the old wooden rocking chair that faces out into the woods and hold the hot brew up to your still cold nose. Richly scented steam warms your face. You let your mind wander back to the office for a moment to wonder what this Friday morning looks like without your presence looming over your employees. Like a mini vacation for them, having the boss away. Good for them, it’s the least they deserve for putting up with you every day.

The last dregs in the oversized coffee mug are as cold as the air out behind the cabin, and you decide it’s time to relocate. Throw on some warmer clothes and spend some time exploring the property. Last night you were delighted to stumble upon a barn that held a goat. You made friends with the beast for a while, stroking its rough fur and looking into its rectangular eyes. You think you might go see him again today, bring him one of the apples you hauled in with you. You’ll need to make the 20-minute trek to the small grocer in town to get more than just the cheese, fruit, wine, and coffee you brought in with you. 

You’re thinking about making a nice pasta for dinner, assuming there’s anything at the tiny shop that could be ground together to make a pesto, so you don’t notice that anything has changed right away. You walk past the pair of boots sitting on the rug at the entrance of the cabin. You walk into the kitchen, not realizing the overhead light is turned on even though you never flipped the switch this morning. You set your coffee mug on the counter next to the jar of crushed tomatoes that wasn’t there half an hour ago. Your brain doesn’t even register the quiet sound of running water coming from the bathroom just down the hall. You’re too busy mapping the path you’ll take up the winding mountain road. You’re already planning the conversation you’ll have with the local that stands behind the counter of the store. Your fingers are practicing the movements of chopping basil and crushing pine nuts (or possibly cashews or walnuts depending on the inventory of the store). 

Your lips move in preparatory conversation, “hi there” - “lovely weather” - “just in town for a couple of days up in one of the cabins on Bear Ridge” - “do you have any olive oil?” when a new sound, louder and harder than the tap, stops you in your tracks. A door closed. Not a car door outside, but a door in this cabin. A door just down the hallway from where you’re standing. That sound pulls you right back into the present, which allows your mind to finally see all the things that it missed. 

Someone else is in this cabin.

—

Eddie booked the cabin, as he does every year, before the travel season really starts up. It’s necessary, his journey into the forested mountain. It’s different now than it was that first time, more about finding something that’s been lost than holding on to something. He is pulled to that place, the cedar of its walls hold the memories he lets himself forget the rest of the year. 

It’s a pretty ride on roads that devolve from asphalt to gravel to dirt the closer he gets to his destination. Dust flies up from his truck tires and into his open windows. He wonders when the last time was these roads saw rain. Too long, from the look of the drooping pines that line the path he’s traveling on. That’s fine, it suits his mood to see nature thirst. He’s thirsty too, his own spirit is bent and dying. He can only hope his time spent alone out here will keep him going for a while longer. 

He’s tired, though, and the sight of the cabin creeping up on him makes him feel like he’s being held. It’s what he needs, even if it’s not what he wants, to be called back to the memories. The mid-morning sun sits between the trees and the wooden structure. It welcomes him to the only home he knows how to return to. Eddie throws the truck into park just as he reaches the set of stairs that lead up to the wrap around porch. He sits in the cab for a minute, looking at the front door. He sighs, exhaling out the heaviness of life into the cab of his truck, and leaves it there.

He kicks off his boots and swings his bag off his shoulder just as he steps inside. It smells like cedar and coffee. Familiar scents that make the fine hair on his arms prickle. He begins his routine, putting away the food he brought with him - eggplant, pasta sauce, a block of parmesan and fresh mozzarella, eggs, breadcrumbs, tabasco, whole wheat bread, onion, pepper, garlic, crushed tomatoes, and Irish butter. Staples. These are the things he always brings with him. He makes his way down the hallway to the bedroom at the far end. It’s not the one he stayed in that first time, though he pauses outside of the door of that room to look into it. Dust particles hang in the air, and he’s not surprised to see the sheer curtain move in the breeze of the open window. He smiles to himself and moves down to the blue room where he’ll keep his things for the next three days.

—

“Hello?’ your jump at the sound of your own voice, and scold yourself internally. You clear your throat, “is someone here?”

You think maybe the owner of the cabin has maybe come by for some reason, the thought that someone would come all the out here to harm you in some way is too ludicrous to entertain. Of course, maybe it’s the ghost. Would a ghost wear black boots and buy Newman’s Own marinara? Unlikely. You take a few tentative steps down the hallway, listening hard for any sound that might clue you into who might be lurking in the shadows.

“Uh, hello?” a man’s voice calls back to you from one of the bedrooms. It sounds as unsure as your own. “Who’s there?”

He steps out of the room at the end of the hall across from your own. He’s tall, with a mound of gray curls at the top of his head. He’s dressed in black from head to toe. There’s a scar on his cheek that travels down his neck. This is the man your mother warned you about, the kind that kids in dark alleys with a knife. There should be alarm bells ringing in your head, but the lines at the corners of his eyes are soft. 

“Yeah, hello. Can I help you with something?” You ask the man at the end of the hall. You watch his facial expression. His brows pinch in confusion, you think, and he shakes his head.

“I don’t know, Sweetheart. I wasn’t expecting any visitors on my secluded vacation. Not sure what you can help me with.” He’s walking towards you while he speaks. A kind of saunter, possibly to hide some sort of pain. 

“Well, this is my secluded vacation, and I also wasn’t expecting any visitors. Are you telling me you booked this place?” 

“I’m telling you I’ve booked this place for the same three days every year for the past 20 years. So, yeah. I booked this place. Are you telling me you booked this place?” He stops when he’s within arm’s length of you, close enough to smell the sweat and aftershave on his skin. Up close, you can see that he’s maybe even a little older than you initially thought. 60 at least.

“Well, shit,” you sigh. You tell him your name and extend your hand, “this is some bullshit, maybe I should try to get a hold of the property owner to see what he can do-” you trail off, remembering your lack of cell service, “-which would be a great idea if my cell phone worked out here.”

You look at the man in front of you for some kind of suggestion, anything. You should want him to say, oh no, what a stupid thing to have happened. I’ll go get my shit and get out of here, but you don’t. It’s something in his eyes that makes you hope he’ll choose to stay, even though the idea opposes all reason. 

“Well, sweetheart, I don’t bring a cell phone with me out here. Sorry about that. How about we both stay -” he holds up a hand, as if to hold back the rejection you have no intention of offering, “- I’m a quiet guy. I’ll keep to myself. I bet we can get the guy that owns this place to refund us both when we get to a working phone.”

“Well, look at you. I only just met you, and you’re speaking my language.” You give him a big smile, “I’m always looking for a good deal.”

—

The old man, you can’t help but think of him as that, is named Eddie. Edward Francis Munson. He’s from Hawkins, Indiana, but he’s been living in Boston for a long time. Eddie is happy to keep the promise he made, to keep to himself and move around the cabin like a ghost, but not you. You keep finding yourself next to him. Sitting across from him in the small living room, looking over the top of your well-worn copy of The Poisonwood Bible and hoping to catch his eye. Your feet take you into the kitchen while he’s bent over the stove top, asking him what he’s working on. While he’s on the porch, you’re sitting on the stairs to watch the tree line and see what he sees. 

“Do you have any kids?” The question, like all of your questions thus far, escapes your lips before you can consider that it may be a rude one.

“No kids, no. There was a time…” you crane your neck to look back at him from your spot on the wooden stairs that lead to the yard from the back porch, “yeah, no kids.”

A pitfall you didn’t see, that’s what that question is. Silence erupts in the space between you, loud enough to make you feel like you’re drowning. You can hear the peepers song through the open window, and are thankful for it. You’re ready to apologize, or crack a joke. You don’t do well when conversation ceases, it’s always been that way. You open your mouth and Eddie waves his hand. He waves away the tension and turns his lips up in a half smile. You can imagine it on the unwrinkled features of his youthful face.

“Well, no kids. Alright. What about a dog?” 

Eddie’s laugh fills you with warmth. The question caught him off guard, and tickled him in that way that happens when you’re all bunched up over something sad. The sound of his laughter feels like home. Like a place you used to know. You can feel a smile on your own lips, you’ve caught onto his joy and made it your own.

“No, no dog. It wouldn’t be fair,” he’s wiping the moisture of the corner of his eyes, “I’m not home much. I do have a cat. Scout. He’s more like the neighbor’s cat at this point.”

Every answer he offers sits on the edge of a profound sadness. You can see now that this man is haunted. You begin to wonder if your intrusion on his alone time is wrong. Maybe you should leave him with his ghosts. Or not, you think he might end up following them off into the darkness. 

“Well, cats are good. I’m glad you have one. I’m more of a dog person myself, I love that unconditional love and devotion. I accept nothing less from canines. And men.” You’re back to facing the tree line, and don’t see Eddie’s reaction to that. The way his smile fades even more, and the tear of laughter at the corner of his eye breaches his lash line and overflows with the added weight of his sadness. 

—

Eddie gets to work on dinner while you’re perched on a high back stool at the counter that separates the cooking area from the main living room. He’s humming something familiar, but you can’t quite put your finger on what it is. The sound is too lovely for you to stop it and ask him what it is. 

Eddie’s movements in the kitchen are reminiscent of a dance. You can almost imagine he once had a partner that knew how to do the moves alongside him. He’s dicing onions and peppers and you’re transfixed by the movement of the blade. You take a drink of wine and find yourself on your feet and moving around the counter without even having decided to do it. You open the fridge and get to work.

You find yourself humming along Eddie’s song until you’re singing the words quietly under your breath as you whisk eggs in a shallow bowl. Eggplant parmigiana. That’s your favorite meal, and you’re pleased to see that Eddie knows how to make sauce that doesn’t come from a jar. He even brought Cento tomatoes. A kindred spirit.

The dance continues through dredging and frying. Through slicing thick pieces of bread and mincing garlic. No words spoken, apart from the lyrics of that song you can’t quite recall, yet you somehow know all the words. Just like the dance you never learned the steps to, and yet the movements feel like second nature. You know this, you think to yourself, not fully understanding what that means.

And when the pasta is drained and the garlic bread is toasty, Eddie pours you another glass of wine while you grab plates from the cabinet to the right of the sink. You think nothing of it when you wrap your arm around his waist and hold it there while you pull open the silverware drawer, and he doesn’t remark on it. You’re just moving around him as if you’ve done it a million times, a simple dance of dinner time with this man.

“Sit, I’ll bring over the dishes,” Eddie says to you, rooster potholders adorning his hands. So you sit, a satisfied smile resting on your lips. You look down at your foot, expecting to see your kitten, Scout, rubbing against your leg. His cat's way of begging for a scrap of something. Where is that little beast, you wonder, and the smile you’ve been wearing starts to slip along with your calm.

“That song is driving me crazy,” you say, hoping your voice sounds steadier than it feels. “I don’t know how I know all the words.”

Eddie sets the pan of still bubbling eggplant onto the center of the table. He sighs and looks into your eyes. Left to right, he’s not looking at you as much as searching you. You can see the younger man when you look into his eyes like this, and suddenly you know him. 

“Why do you think that is?” Eddie asks you, still looking into your eyes. 

“Because you wrote it for me,” you answer him. 

He sighs, a sound of relief and acceptance, and dishes out the meal he made for you. Your favorite meal. It’s wonderful to be like this with him, it feels like you’ve been gone for an eternity. You’re so thankful for his presence, that he came here to find you.

“Eddie, I missed you,” you tell him. 

“I missed you too. Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere ever again,” he tells you, reaching across the table to hold your hand. You eat that way, hand in hand, running your fingers over the tattoo on his knuckles. Your initials, of course, faded with the passing of the years.

—

You didn’t bother to clean up after dinner. Eddie was too tired. You helped him down the hallway. You helped him undress and get under the covers. You climbed into the bed with him and found that spot at his side - your spot - and curled into him. 

You hum your song to him until he’s finally asleep, and follow him into a dream. You’re at the beach with him, it’s the first truly hot summer day of 1995. It smells like coconut sunscreen and salt water. The sand under your feet is hot, and the sun is beating down on your skin. You can see Eddie standing at the water’s edge, his hand outstretched in an invitation. 

You wake, not to the sound of bird call, but the sound of an engine revving outside the cabin. You leave the bed and the cold body resting beneath the covers. It’s not important, not when you know exactly what you’ll find when you open the front door. 

Eddie’s sitting on the back of his old Goldwing, looking like she was just driven off the lot. His black hair is tied loosely at the nape of his neck in a ponytail, and his hand is out to you again. You run down the steps and climb onto the back of the bike, eagerly wrapping your arms around his center. You breathe in the smell of his leather.

“Eddie, where are we going?” You ask him.

“Sweetheart, I have no idea, but we’re going together this time.”

[rottenpumpkin13]

Inspired by recent events - how would modern AGSZC handle long haul international travel? The airports, the flights and the inevitable jet lag

♯ Angeal always tries to find the positive and bright side of everything, so he's game for anything. He’s the one making checklists, planning every detail, ensuring everyone’s luggage is in order, and being just a little neurotic (just a little) he sees it as part of the fun and a way to ensure everything goes smoothly. Even jet lag can’t dampen his spirits! He views it as just another part of the adventure.

*Angeal kicks the door down*

Angeal: To whoever had the audacity to go up to the packing checklist I've helpfully pinned to the fridge and write 'calm down Angeal', I just want you to know that I'M FUCKING!! CALM! I HAVE NEVER BEEN SO CALM IN ALL MY LIFE—HEY! GENESIS YOU GET BACK HERE AND EXPLAIN WHY I FOUND A WHOLE BOTTLE OF LIQUOR IN YOUR LUGGAGE? WE'RE GOING ON A BUSINESS TRIP, YOU DONUT, NOT TO A RESORT. IF I GET ONE WHIFF OF ALCOHOL ON YOUR BREATH I'M THROWING YOU FROM THE AIRPLANE!

*Sephiroth and Zack are watching from a distance*

Zack: Why is Angeal screaming at the wall?

Sephiroth: Don't look, Zack.

♯ Genesis loves traveling and views every aspect of it as part of the vacation, thanks to his aesthete heart. Packing is an artform to him, creating playlists for the car ride to the airport is essential, selecting books, and planning which episodes of his dramas to catch up on during the flight. Jet lag would be a downer for him, but he's rarely sleeping on vacation anyway, preferring to be out partying. But once he's back needs at least two days to recuperate.

*Genesis is sitting in the briefing room with sunglasses and a cocktail. Zack is fanning him*

Lazard: Commander, this is ridiculous. Your vacation ended two days ago.

Genesis: On the contrary, director. I'm still on vacation.

Lazard: Your theatrics are disrupting the workspace.

Genesis: No they're not.

*Sephiroth and Angeal walk in and immediately slip and fall on the sand that's scattered on the floor*

♯ Sephiroth is convinced that no one in the world hates taking trips more than he does. Work trips are terrible, and the 'getting there' part of vacations is dreadful no matter the 'distractions' he brings to keep his mind busy. Honestly, he'd be a happier person if teleportation were more widely used so he could just appear at places randomly. He's a homebody who loves the comfort of his own space and values his sleep, so jet lag hits him hard.

Zack: Hey, how are you—

Sephiroth: I haven't slept in 22 hours and if I don't drink something caffeinated and release my anger within the next minute, then I will be forced to enlist the help of the shadow that's been following me around all day to tape your mouth shut.

Zack: What shadow?

Sephiroth:

Zack, panicking: WHAT SHADOW?

♯ Zack loves trips, partly because his upbringing in Gongaga made him eager to see the world. He's just happy to be there, though he hates packing and always forgets to bring essential stuff like his underwear and toothbrush. But that's what Angeal is for! Jet lag is nonexistent to him because he can and will sleep through anything, as long as he has a comfortable enough space. The only thing he can't deal with about trips is the sitting still part... yeah, he needs to stretch his legs or else he starts to lose his mind.

*In the airplane*

Genesis: Are you alright? Your eye is twitching and your knees are shaking.

Zack: I can't take this anymore.

Genesis: Read a book.

Zack: I hate reading.

Genesis: Watch a movie.

Zack: I can't focus.

Genesis: Then do one of the two things I do when I'm bored—either poke Angeal with a back scratcher until he explodes or challenge Sephiroth to an arm wrestling match.

Zack:

Zack: Somehow I feel like Sephiroth breaking my arm is the safer option.

Genesis: It is.

Zack: Alright.

♯ IF Cloud survives the motion sickness, he will not be a happy camper during the trip.

Cloud: I feel like I'm gonna throw up.

Sephiroth: Ginger is known to reduce nausea and prevents vomiting. Consuming ginger in the form of tea, candy, or even chopped pieces can be effective to combat nausea and vomiting.

Cloud: Do you have ginger?

Sephiroth: No.

Cloud: Then why the hell would you bring that up?

Sephiroth: It's always nice to learn something new, Cloud.

Cloud: *visibly annoyed*

Sephiroth: I realize I've made a mistake. I'm in the splash zone.

[thecoolblackwaves]

Family Of Nerds: Feanorian Modern AU

(I’m sorry this is somewhat Americanized I just don’t have enough knowledge about anywhere else to make those allusions) (Also please reblog with your own headcanons or other thoughts!)

Feanor 

Philologist; studies language history

Often assists at various museums, colleges, archeological sites, etc

Has published several books and given many lectures 

Creates his own languages like Tengwar for fun, also is a hobby blacksmith

Teaches his children many archaic languages no one else speaks and takes his family on "educational" vacations 

Also attends every convention known to man, even ones that have seemingly nothing to do with his own interests, dressed to the nines and spends his time there signing books and debating other people 

Loves his wife just as madly as the day he met her and is ecstatic he married his high school sweetheart

Idolizes his father. Would have done great following his political career if he hadn't "ruined" his public image by becoming a teen parent, ultimately feels he's made the right decisions for his life though and is happy with his work

Rivalry with Fingolfin over who can host the best dinner party (and you best believe he wears smart-ass punny aprons while cooking a six course meal for his guests)

Nerdanel 

Professional sculptor and multimedia artist

Teaches classes at an arts college 

Is known to eat the fruit out of the bowls her students are sketching when no one is looking

Cannot cook to save her life 

Enthusiastically attends every possible event in her family’s calendar no matter the weather or lack of skill at a toddler dance recital 

Dresses in a fabulously bohemian eccentric artist way; stole the show when she attended the Grammys with Makalaure and has been featured in several fashion magazines 

Carries all sorts of art supplies and seemingly random tools in her purse at all times, including a chisel, googly eyes, edible glitter, a bajillion hair ties, DW40, and peanut M&Ms

Has a calm, wise disposition that belies her truly chaotic nature

Often looked to for advice from her students and children and will only pull your leg when she thinks you’re being stupid 

Does give genuinely good advice though, mostly because she is uncanny in her ability to read people and observe subtle hints 

Maitimo

Studied communications, currently working as his father’s apprentice but hopes to find a position as a public relations specialist 

Uses his intimidating stature and loud, deep voice to his advantage as needed

Was born while his parents were teenagers and still living with their families, he remembers watching cartoons with Grandpa Finwe and being babysat by his uncles 

Also attended his mother’s graduation from art school as a small child and clapped until his little hands hurt 

Is painfully aware of how all his younger brothers look up to him - literally - and sometimes struggles with the pressures of setting a good example, though he does much better than he realizes 

Drinks his coffee from a mug that reads “don’t make this ginger snap” (Nerdanel has a matching one)

The gayest gay to ever gay, informs everyone of this via cheesy tee shirts gifted from his brothers and cousins 

Drives a minivan, claims he chose it because it was the only car that would fit his legs and not because he can haul his brothers around in it 

Frequently complains about missing the technology of his childhood but resents being called a millennial 

Makalaure 

Grammy award winning artist and composer

Created the score for a recent movie that bloomed his popularity and brought him to the limelight 

Has a Youtube channel with several music videos he definitely didn’t blackmail his family into filming with him 

Also performed on Broadway once and will not let you forget it 

Used to skip school to busk in the train station and once caught his math teacher also skipping school 

Extremely popular with interviewers, camera crew, and other industry specialists for his kindness and crazy stories about his family 

Donates large amounts of his royalties to children’s hospitals and other charities 

Used to hog the bathroom in the mornings to put on makeup and style his hair 

Practices Beyonce dance routines in the mirror, has convinced Curufin to do them with him before 

Spent a semester studying in Sydney, Australia and fainted after encountering a large spider in his dorm room 

Tyelkormo

Forest ranger at a National Park 

Works at outdoor summer camps every year, all the children love him and his giant fluffy dog

Also volunteers at animal shelters and the wildlife rehabilitation center at the National Park 

Creatine for breakfast, lunch, and dinner; drinks so much milk Nerdanel used to tell him it was why his hair was white 

Wakes up at 5 in the morning to exercise (disgusting)

Got a long bow for Christmas one year (the note said Santa but he knows it was his mom) and practices in the backyard by shooting at Amrod’s pumpkins 

Metalhead, particularly likes viking metal and Nordic black metal 

Made Huan his own battle vest complete with dog-themed patches such as “Bad to the Bone” and “No Leashes No Masters” 

Tells the most terrible jokes you’ve ever heard then laughs like a seagull vomiting up a stolen bag of Doritos 

Extremely loyal to his family, sometimes to a fault 

Carnistar

Professional business accountant 

Also does taxes as a side hustle because “it’s so easy” 

Is obsessed with Oreos but will not admit it because of his brother's teasing about "Moryo's Oreos" 

Obligatory family goth and not ashamed of it 

Started mending his hand-me-down clothes as a necessity and got into sewing, now makes fantastic garments for his family and friends to wear 

Halloween is the only valid holiday, he spends the entire year making his costume (it’s usually a vampire or some fandom character)

Stays up until 3am gaming on a PC he and Feanor built together one summer, favorite game is currently Balder’s Gate 

Had to take speech therapy as a child and later some anger management classes.... because he got too good at expressing himself

Curufin

Silversmith and jewelry maker 

Specializes in accessories for ballet dancers and other performers 

Ballet dancer since he was young, never succeeded with a professional career but still practices daily and chose his specialty to remain part of the scene 

Holds a serious grudge against certain critics that failed his entry to ballet academy (will not sell his products to them or their schools)

Always looking for new business opportunities, not always in the most honest of ways 

Struggles with self esteem issues 

Has several cats and claims they betray him when they snuggle with Huan but secretly finds it adorable 

Frequently collaborates with Caranthir to make elaborate costumes just for the fun of it 

Made a tiara for his favorite cat, Princess Paws

Would sleep until four in the afternoon if you let him (or if Princess Paws didn’t wake him up screaming for food)

Amrod

Gardening Club President at his school 

Started a trade and barter farmers market after school to reduce waste and share the bounty of his and fellow club member’s gardens 

Frequently tries to convince his parents to turn their property into a “self sufficient homestead”, leaves pamphlets and pictures of adorable baby animals lying around the house 

Enlisted the help of his twin and Maitimo to build a chicken coop, forgot to ask Feanor’s permission first 

Demands payment in the form of fresh caught fish or deer jerky for the use of his gourds in Tyelko’s target practice 

Has definitely switched places with Amros to escape trouble or science tests 

Often neglects his homework for pursuits he feels are more important, will only do it without complaint when Carnistar tells him to 

Had eyes for the cool-looking red glow on the stove as a child and was banned from the kitchen for most of his adolescence 

Is generally a persistent and stubborn person (wonder where he got it from)

Amros 

Amateur photographer with an instagram following nearing one million 

Account consists of 95% nature photography and 5% “The Adventures of Huan and Princess Paws” as he follows them around the back yard 

Takes all of Makalaure’s headshots and creates his album covers, also photographs Curufin’s jewelry to upload to his retail website 

“Borrows” Carnistar’s prized PC to upload and edit his photos 

Conspired with Amrod to convince their elementary school classmates they were secretly Fred and George Weasley disguised as Muggles, ultimately failed because someone thought their accents “just sounded like they were copying Peppa Pig”

Still pulls out his British accent on occasion when someone needs cheering up 

Inherited Nerdanel’s keen observation skills, mostly uses them to blackmail his brothers into doing his chores 

But also gives the most amazing presents because he knows exactly what everyone truly wants 

[infini-tree]

episodic - part 3

< back | next >

---------------------

Summary: It's business as usual. At least it looks like it, and that has to count for something. The boys do a bit of arts and crafts. Krupp takes a step back.

A/N: literally the worst part of writing fic for CU is trying to think of pranks. they’re up there with choreographing fight scenes. also these next chapters were brought to you by: me referencing the movie’s art book i got as a gift. Locations And Fascinating Objects section my beloved…

this chapter's scene went through a lot of shuffling-- melvin was supposed to be in this one. but alas, once this was finalized he was pushed back into the next chapter. ideally. at the earliest. its been almost 4 years, i swear he actually has a part to play in this AU, he's technically part of the core secondary cast--

---------------------

Back in the present day, the boys snuck into the art room. Even now, there wasn’t a proper class for it in Jerome Horwitz, despite The Prank For Good. But because of it, Krupp never had the thought to put it under lock and key again. The doors still remained unlocked for any kid that needed it. And George and Harold had a big need. In fact, they had been caching away supplies when no one was looking.

Captain Underpants trailed behind them; he looked at the room and gave a small nod, murmuring something about being “back at the start”.

“What will we be doing this time, sidekicks?” He clapped his hands together. “Oh! I could try and ask for a carnival again–”

“NO!” both of them shouted. The hero jumped up in surprise and stayed in a low hover.

George was the quicker of the two to regain composure. “No, no– we’re doing something different.”

“Oh.”

Harold unpacked the contents of his bag. There was a ridiculous amount of flour and bottles around them, along with other plastic pails and shovels.

“Ooh, are we making a cake? Can I decorate it?” Captain asked.

George sighed. “It’s not for a cake.”

“Well, what is it for?” 

Harold dumped a bunch of flour and oil into the largest bucket with the glee reserved for children about to make a huge mixture of stuff. “Sand!”

When the hero continued to look baffled, George cut in. “With Krupp instating the grade-wide assignment gauntlet, we have to retaliate with the exact opposite of that.”

“…Recess?”

“Close!” Harold began to mix the concoction with a plastic shovel. “Summer vacation!”

“And we need to make a lot to really sell the beach vibe.”

“Oh…” Captain nodded with the confidence of someone who had no idea what that meant. He knelt down and gave a curious sniff at the flour sand, catching the faint whiff of some sort of cooking oil.  mix his own bucket the other boy handed to him.

To make a long story short, they managed to create enough of it to create a sizable layer in at least two classrooms. They hauled the first half of it to Guided’s classroom–or rather, Captain flew it over in record time. He began to push all the desks back and started to stack them high up against the edges of the wall. It reminded Harold of that one time he showed George a boardwalk on a faded postcard, tall buildings looming over sandy beaches.

“Why only two?” Captain asked as he stacked some of the desks on the teacher’s desk. “Why not make the whole school a beach?”

The boys perked up from their efforts to place the sand evenly across the classroom floor.

“‘Cause the first big tests are in Ms. Guided and Ribble’s classrooms,” Harold said.

“We’d have loved to do something big," George explained as he scattered the beach toys. "Really put the last big prank that happened here to shame–”

“But we had to improvise. Go for lots of smaller ones for the first part of this plan, you know?”

“First part?” Captain echoed. 

“Yeah!” Harold continued, ushering them all out of the room. Captain followed in a low hover, and George swept over the remaining footprints with a hand. Looking back at their work, it looked like no one was ever in the room.

“The first bit is to wear all the teachers and Krupp down. And then–”

“Bam.” he punched into his own open palm. “That’s where you come in!”

Captain tilted his head. “I thought this was where I came in?”

“What? No– I mean, we appreciate your help, but you have a bigger part to play here.”

“I do?” he asked.

“We figured you’d want to get back at Krupp, right?” George said. 

Captain was silent, his expression dumbfounded. 

“With enough pressure, he’ll back off from you and he’ll back off with all the sudden assignments!” Harold clarified. “It’ll be great.”

“We’re not sure how long he’s planning on making everyone miserable, but we’re planning for the long game.”

That seemed to make things more murky for him but the curiosity still remained. He tilted his head with furrowed brows, as if trying to figure out the connection between the two facts. “…How long, exactly?” 

“As long as it takes.” Harold gave him a good natured punch to the side. “Now come on, let’s get the other classroom set up.”

The boys grabbed his hands and led him back to the art room, chatting about what else they could do.

---------------------

The school didn’t know what hit them. 

Later that day, the fourth graders enjoyed the slices of beaches in the pair of classrooms. They made their sandcastles and moats as the teachers tried– and failed– to get their papers from their desks buried under their own students’ desks. 

And on the day after that, there was the petting zoo in the math classrooms on the same day a calculator-less test on long division was meant to happen. It was no tiger, but the kids enjoyed petting the sheep. For extra salt in the wound, there were numbers drawn in bright colors on their wool. 

Corralling the animals out was one thing. Finding out they were only Sheeps #1-6 and 8 was another, leaving all the teachers to scramble to find the last sheep of the set for the past few hours.

Apparently, the third time wasn’t the charm as George and Harold were called into the principal’s office. When they walked in, he had never bothered to close one of the desk drawers, clearly embroiled in whatever work principals do. Krupp was faced away from them, yelling into the phone.

“How many times do I have to explain it to you, there probably isn’t a Sheep #7– are you falling asleep counting them?” He turned to face them and grimaced. “I’ll get back to you.” 

He hung up the phone, glaring at them as they took their respective seats. 

“Care to explain the last few days?”

Harold shifted in his seat as he gave a glance to the other boy. “We have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“We were a bit too busy dealing with the sudden wave of assignments and tests to try anything,” George added with a shrug.

“Don’t play innocent with me. The gaps in my memory are extremely obvious.” He waggled an accusatory finger at them.

“Like we said, we were busy–”

“What– watching him get bit by sheep yesterday?!” He held up his other arm filled with band aids of various sizes.

George leaned over to the other boy and whispered, “Man, they can be really vicious, huh?” 

Krupp slammed his fists onto his desk. He opened his hands. Closed them. Before pushing himself off his seat to look down at them. “Whether you’ll actually admit it, I’ll cut to the chase. Stop whatever you’re trying to do.”

“If it was us, why would we? You started it.”

“Oh, hah–” He let out an incredulous, breathless laugh at that. “I started it? You’re one to talk after all you’ve done to me. You should be grateful I don’t just hold you back right now for that comment!”

Harold was unmoved. “Man, you got so much worse– I didn’t think that was possible.”

“Oh, I can do so much worse after your little breaking and entering stunt,” he shot back. “Invading my privacy, looking into things you shouldn’t–”

“So you admit you were talking to him.”

“Now I never said anything about talking, have I?”

George and Harold leveled a glare at him, refusing to give him any confirmation or satisfaction that he was right. “So that is why you cracked down on the entire fourth grade, huh?”

“Or maybe it has to do with the fact that I’m losing sleep over mysterious injuries!” The boys wanted to speak up, but he refused to give them that. “And– and, seeing the school be nearly destroyed multiple times a week.”

“Not like you really cared about the school before,” George grumbled.

Krupp spluttered furiously, turning a new shade of red in the process. “Says the children who keep on endangering it and wasting its resources!"

“We’re saving the school!”

“From problems you made up.” He slowly made his way around his desk to them. “Is that why you made me your little stooge? Were you just tired and wanted to feel important in your little superhero fantasy? Or was getting rid of me the main motivation here?”

George stood up from his chair. “Oh, if we could have, we would have!”

As soon as the words left his mouth, it suddenly felt like the office had turned somewhat askew. Gone was the red in Krupp’s face and gone was the anger– if anything, he looked like he had been slapped in the face. His mouth opened. Closed. Nothing.

The boys were suddenly aware of the clock ticking, now that it was completely silent. George couldn’t help but be reminded of the time he said something that crossed some unseen line with his mom.

And just as quickly as the conversation was fishtailing out of what any of them were used to, the principal clambered for any sense of control.

“I’ll deal with the both of you later.” He put up a hand to rub his temples– and conveniently hid his eyes. “Get out.”

Harold blinked. “What–”

“NOW!” He whipped his arm to point at the door.

They stumbled out of their seats and ran without a second thought.

---------------------

For the rest of the last class of the school day, Harold was sitting on pins and needles as he looked at the clock. While most kids looked at it expectantly for the final bell to ring, right now he was dreading it.  He figured George was doing the same.

Krupp getting the jump on them was a matter of when today , not if, especially when he was as mad as he was earlier.

Five minutes. He glanced to the front of the class. Even Rected was struggling with the new mandate to increase kids’ work. Which, he guessed, made sense– more work for them meant more stuff the teachers had to look at.

Two minutes.

Speaking of work, he was quickly scribbling out some ideas for the next issues. Though he couldn’t help but let his mind wander off to the other prank plans they had– he figured by the way Rected was pulling at his hair, they can bring Captain in for the cherry on top by the end of next week–

The speakers screeched to life. There was a beat of silence long enough for someone to ask if Krupp called an announcement on accident, until–

“Pop science fair, end of this week,” he said tersely. “Hope you can wow the teachers, since this is now a good chunk of your mark. How much? That’s the ‘pop’ part of that.”

The kids began to groan and slam their heads on their desks. Even more heads fell on their desks as another screech echoed through the school.

“You have George Beard and Harold Hutchins to thank for that. That will be all.”

The bell rang. One by one, everyone turned his direction, some shocked, others confused, many furious. Even Mr. Rected gave a baffled look.

After dodging the onslaught of kids ready to hound him or worse due to the announcement, he found George running down the hallway for similar reasons. At some point along the way, the other boy got their skateboards and helmets. With a frantic throw, they skateboarded out of the front yard and down the quickest route to their house.

“George?” Harold said, once they turned to their street. He had been eerily silent the whole time.

The other boy jumped off his own board and pulled his helmet off. He could see how much sweat was on his forehead now.

“Change of plans–” He stomped the end of the skateboard to make it stand before quickly grabbing it. “We’re taking stock of everything tonight.”

Harold stared at him. He knew why– he could still feel a flare of indignation from that announcement.

It was like George read his mind. “What Krupp said– those were fighting words. We’re going to move the Captain Plan up next.”

He gave a curt nod.

[biteofcherry]

Ohhh… The Babe Lottery? Sounds like fun! 😌

What if I were to say… Curtis Everett? ❤️

✨✨✨

Organization and preparation were your little talents, of which your were quite proud. You were ready for almost any emergency. But as you watched your neighbour carry bag after bag after bag of items into his house, you wondered if he was overdoing it, or if you weren't prepared at all.

The forecast alerted of a heavy blizzard coming your way.

With the way it was already so much snow and ice, making any trip outside of your little cottage near impossible to execute, the snow storm was going to cut you off.

You had enough food, you thought. As well candles, in case the electricity would go down. A hard stack of books to read under a fluffy stack of blankets.

Still, as you watched Curtis haul so many things into his house, as if he was going to feed a small army for a a week or two, you started doubting yourself.

You waved at him from your kitchen window, when he looked your way while closing his truck. Curtis paused, seemingly surprised to find you there.

Many people left the region when the alerts started piling - going to their families, or friends, or completely leaving the area for a vacation in Florida.

But he waved back, causing a soft wave of warmth to flush you.

It was that need for warmth and your growling stomach that pushed you out of the house two weeks later.

The snowstorm was worse then they predicted. Piling layers of freezing, white death to the top of your windows and making it impossible to go anywhere.

Two weeks was more than you were prepared for. Though the snowing has subsided, the plains of it covering the area didn't even began to melt.

Covered in layers of winter clothes, you wasted over an hour of time and gallons of energy to dig your way out of your house and into Curtis' neighboring one.

He had to hear you scratching at his door, attempting to dig through the frozen coating of snow, because he suddenly yanked it open.

Your body was numb and your brain half-frozen, while Curtis appeared to be in full strength. Warmth wafted out of his house and off of his broad body, too.

"I- I'm out of- of food," you mumbled out.

Curtis cursed under his breath, but it wasn't him who invited you inside to get warm and full.

There were two men with him. Both looking cozy at home and terrifyingly pleased with your visit.

One had longer, dark hair and eyes of an arctic wolf. One of the arms he had crossed on his chest was a shiny, black prosthetic. The other man rubbed a hand over his thick beard, then combed his fingers through blond strands of his hair. His black t-shirt had a garish red print of a scull with tentacles.

The same image - you noticed - all three men had tattooed on the side of their necks.

[afreakingdork]

Weak Spot - Finale - Chapter 70

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

Warnings: Aged-up Turtles, Romance, Meet Cute, Villain Donatello, Cussing, Crushes, Xenophobia, Fear, Intimidation, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hurt/Comfort, Love, AFAB Reader, Vaginal Sex, Sex Rough, Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Creampie, Teasing, Scent Kink, Sexual Tension, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Marathon Sex, Somnophilia, Bondage, Feral Behavior, Feral Donatello, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Public Sex, Dom Donnie, Human/Turtle Relationships, Turtle Noises, Roleplay, Sexual Roleplay

Synopsis:  A love story of villainous proportions! Though it hadn’t come easily, as these things rarely do, you found yourself in a whirlwind romance with a handsome and mysterious mutant. His idiosyncrasies had been easy to ignore as attraction grew into something more. However, will love endure when the unknowns about him end up being far darker than you ever considered?

Also available on Ao3

First 💜 Previous

LAST WARNING FOR THE 🍋 UNDER THE CUT. MINORS DNI!

Warm.

Sun kissed, you were drunk on cradled heat.

Even under the gorgeous umbrella, it only felt like a momentary reprieve from the caressing warmth. It lingered, bouncing off granules of sand, before trying to sneak up onto your huge towel. Bits sprinkled your feet and legs from where you’d traveled back from the ocean and you cared little as you were hunkered down in an oasis.

Your honeymoon.

What a great descriptor for such a vacation, you thought. It was the epitome of nature’s sweetness and it was by the moonlight your charted days. With little fanfare after your wedding had eaten up the rest of everyone’s excitement, the trip to the airport a few days later had been a simple affair. Everything else had been accounted for so all you had to do was make it to the plane. The only surprise had been Spencer’s wedding gift; a pass for Donnie to legally traverse international lines as a temporary brokered deal with the US government, it seemed silly at first. 

The trip had long been booked and Donnie had gone through all the back alley protocol necessary. He had his pseudonym down, the cloaking brooch, and all necessary, albeit illegal paperwork to sneak away. Having a formal printed document saying he was allowed to do what he was going to do anyway was something was the epitome of superfluous.

Donnie didn’t see it that way.

From his choice of a white suit, his marriage to you was his new beginning. He was not some unsullied being, but instead the color change represented his yielding. He was moving beyond what had come before, his darkness, and with it he was made anew. His legitimate work had always been, for him, some petty agreement as officials saw use of his mind after they found they could not forcefully obtain it. He had then later committed to it being his only job title as he explored his new self that had options. Having been acknowledged by his legitimate work, through Spencer’s hand or not, still spoke something of trust. Someone above in the hateful industry believed he could safely leave the country and that struck him deeply. It was validation upon the thousand he already had and you’d seen him hug Spencer unprompted.

It was probably the most contact the two had ever had and Spencer exploded into tears which he sobbed into darkened dots onto Donnie’s pale tux until his wife hauled him away.

She was a nice lady.

You liked her very much.

Donnie ditched the fake paperwork, successfully fought the airline for the corrections, but kept the brooch in the end. Traveling in human form afforded him more freedom which he appreciated in movement. Even with first class’ luxury accommodations, the seats sat human bodies better and you had seen him doze off for a few decent hours in the middle of your flight. You sipped champagne, perused a few movies, and indulged in first class fare all the while.

It was only the beginning of your decadence.

For what seemed like all the money in the world, you were greeted at the airport.

All the small irritations of travel were taken care of and you took a cushy bus ride along stunning carved paths with views of the sea. Lapping waves and stunning views had you glued to the window and Donnie had the driver pull over twice so you could admire. Your husband had ditched his brooch since leaving the airport as all staff from now on were known and under his dime. His scales glistened from the sea and you excitedly took picture after picture before finally allowing the car to get to the resort.

The manager there reminded you of Spencer because he was still trying to upsell such loaded guests, but Donnie dispelled the eagerness with ease by giving a stern acknowledgement of his ploy and telling him there was no need. It startled the man and Donnie requested only privacy before you headed to your room. An enormous suite that put not only your apartment, but the Kumonosu room to shame, it was almost like you’d rented an entire house. You gallivanted through each room after Donnie sent his baubles out for their scans. They sat dutifully in your protection and after touching just about every object that was temporarily yours, you approached your husband with open arms.

He took you in not only for a hug, but to bed.

It was where you stayed, only straying to desecrate literally every other part of the room in your promised fuck fest.

No one could ever say your union wasn’t consummated.

It was waking up dreary and delighted on the mid-morning of day five that you were finally weary of not your partner, but the room itself. There was only so much of the menu that could be delivered via room service and you had heard tell of incredible, but timely buffets. Donnie had tried bribing the bellhop, but not even the manager could make an exception as the food out there was being made for present guests. The chefs stood their ground which your mate accepted as it was a marker of pride.

You kissed your sleeping partner’s head before you snuck off to the shower.

He found you as you were lathered up and you were soon mounted against slick marble tiles.

You just barely made the breakfast buffets and thanked the ancient Italians for their pastry making.  

Refreshed, it was a quick trip back to the room to prepare for time away. Asking your partner to apply sunscreen to your back had quickly led to a small diversion, but only about an hour later than you hoped, you were hopping down paved steps in sandals. You avoided the resort’s pools in favor of the actual beach. A whole section had been marked off just for you and by the time you hit the sand your shoes were gone. Donnie followed suit remembering the supposed protocol and you jokingly taught him how to skip on the way to your umbrella.

You’d played in the ocean for what seemed like hours until lunch was brought to you. Donnie spoke of how the foods were specifically chosen to complement the sea air and how it affected the palate. You listened with a dreamy expression before cuddling into him for a nap. You supposed on some level you should probably fear a vacation, but you didn’t have it in you. Unlike the Hidden City, neither of you had history here. Though mutants had spread out around the world over time, most of them still resided in America. Here in Europe, they were mostly seen in bigger cities.

That might have meant Donnie’s existence would bring about whispers, but this resort was one that catered to a specific clientele. Celebrities and the like came here to be free from judgment and paparazzi. The company had built a reputation on such safety and with it the hush ran similarly through the guests. Parties rarely looked up from their own bubbles which meant Donnie could move freely and he did.

Outside of doting, it was impossible to miss the wide-eyed way he was taking everything in. A new culture, a new history, and travel he was never before allowed to take, he was devouring everything with a hunger similar to your own. Shreds of him clung to concerns, but on the whole, he was more free than you’d ever seen him.

You could also feel his composure.

Your rings linked and spoke of only happiness.

You were moved lightly from your cozy cocoon and you chirped sleepy.

“I’d like to swim again.” Donnie brushed a hand against your cheek.

“How’s the salt?” You murmured as he set you down, fully on the blanket.

“Drying, but not unmanageable. I brought a new body wash formulation to correct my skin’s pH. I’m interested in its effectiveness throughout our stay.”

“On you?” You nuzzled against his hand and didn’t bother opening your eyes.

“Yes.” He tapped your nose.

You giggled.

“An employee passed not too long ago and I signaled him to bring drinks in about an hour.”

“Do we have to leave!?” You stretched out your complaint.

“Technically…?” Donnie dipped to kiss you.

You opened your eyes to see your husband.

You committed his smile to memory.

“I’ll join you in a bit. Gonna get up nice and slow.” You decided, feeling particularly lazy. 

He chuckled. “Understood.”

“Find me a cool shell.”

“The ecosystem…” Donnie complained.

“I’ll throw it back? I want to see one.”

Donnie made a slight grumble before he agreed.

You got a second kiss and he was off.

You rolled over and stretched languidly. A few cracks gave way to another wave of drowsiness and you decided that the drinks arriving would wake you. Drifting off, it felt like only seconds passed when you heard steps in the sand. Your throat felt parched right on time and you lolled your head to see not a staff member, but a regular man approaching.

You blinked at him a few times before you sat up on your elbows.

“Hey.” He raised his hand and tried to make his posture disarming. “Sorry to bother you, my wife lost her anklet and since we had this space yesterday, I wanted to come down and look.”

You stared at him.

He was a liar.

It was plain as day.

No man staying at this resort would lift a finger.

They’d have a lawyer here ready to sue before they thought of doing anything so menial.

There was more.

He’d asked no question.

He hadn’t asked to look.

The farthest he’d gotten was his pathetic story.

He now stood.

Obviously nervous from where you’d left him hanging.

Hands rung.

Dart of his eyes.

More signs of lying.

Above all though, you recognized this man.

He was the adult son of one of the other guests.

He’d been clearly hungover at the buffet just this morning.

You registered him only because his dad had been on a stern business call while his airy mother drank mimosas.

He’d been contrastingly catatonic and you’d heard staff try to rouse him so they could clean after he overstayed his welcome.

They offered him his choice of sparkling water and medicine for his headache.

He’d nearly slapped the tray away and stumbled to the pool.

Why was he here?

You continued to stare.

“Uh…?” He strung the sound out as if you should have bent over backwards for him.

“You know…” You rubbed your face and gave him a bored glance. “I’m over it. Over the interrupting. Over the bullshit. It’s my honeymoon. Is this gonna be a violent thing or a stupid thing?”

He jarred.

“Do you know what I have to deal with? No. I’ll answer that for you. You have no idea. I just, just, got my husband on the first vacation of his life. So please, whatever the hell you want, I’m busy. Just spit it out and go.”

“I love you.”

Your mouth opened and stale air came out.

“I know! Too fast, but you asked! Ever since I saw you this morning, you were all I could think about-“

“What time is it?”

He didn’t seem put off and rushed to get his phone. “3:14pm.”

“That’s what? Four…? Hours…? Ago… You’ve been in love with me for four hours?”

“Yes, I-”

“I mean, I guess I’ll give you that. That is a new one.” You pulled your legs up to lean forward on them. “Haven’t heard that one before.”

He stood and took on an appreciative quality where he was still wincing against the sun. “I just wanted-”

“What was your big plan with the anklet thing? Not enough that you’d try to pull me from my husband, but you added a weird cheating aspect to the mix…?”

“That’s well-”

“Like which one am I supposed to believe? The first is starting to sound more believable. Your plan is weirder the longer I think about it…”

He didn’t try to speak again.

It was his only saving grace. 

You’d interrupted a few times, but he didn’t appear mad.

He was either patient, honest, or that stupid. 

You’d believe all of the above, but mostly you believed he was dumb enough to still think he had any sort of chance..

“Have you seen a kelp man, by chance?”

He balked openly.

You chuckled.

He perked up at the sound “May I…?”

“No.” You smiled.

He looked newly put out.

You weren’t playing by some unseen script.

In his mind, you should have been kinder.

It spoke of privilege.

He’d probably never been denied a thing in his life.

“I’ll bite. What about me did it for you?” You tucked your cheek against your knee.

His chest puffed as if he’d been granted permission to state his claim.

He prepared the whole of himself before he resigned to word vomit. “Your smile. The way your eyes lit up when you took a bite of maritozzi. The way you laughed. You were totally open and you didn’t care. You didn’t give a shit about anything else. You just reached out and told someone how good it was and more. You kept talking, but it mattered. What you said mattered. You weren’t saying what someone wanted to hear or what you thought might be the best thing to say. You were talking because you wanted to. You wanted to share your joy and all I could think was, that’s what I want. Something real. Something honest. Something happy.”

You wanted to laugh.

Instead you pasted on a face of thought.

Looking out to the ocean, you couldn’t see Donnie.

Through your ring he didn’t feel mad.

You reached through the connection.

He wasn’t far off.

A few miles off the beach which was a distance he could swim back in seconds.

You felt him respond to your probing with curiosity.

You soothed him intangibly, but the bubbles of comedy and strangeness must have come through because he started to head back.

You now had a timeline to respond to this stranger. 

You could tell him how selfish he was for trying to leech happiness off someone else.

It wasn’t your problem that he couldn’t find it himself. 

You could complain about all the things he’d made up about you just to fit his narrative.

You could ask him his age, the clear younger side of twenty, to validate your criticism.

You could even venture a guess at all the partners he’d had that had left him unfulfilled.

He even pegged you as the type to read romance novels. 

He’d deluded himself thus far.

Instead, you picked the only piece you cared about.

His omission.

“Didn’t care that the someone who made me so happy, made me want to talk, made my everything, was my husband, huh?”

“That… thing!?” For the first time, his face contorted in disgust.

You let the same openly paint yours.

He waffled. “T-that-! I mean-! W-well it’s not l-legally binding, right?”

You held up your hand to show your ring. “State of New York begs to differ.”

“You’re not in New York.” He argued, hackles high.

“On my honeymoon, dipshit.”

“D-dip-!?”

“You come down here. Against the rules, by the way.” You stood and dusted the latent sand off your legs before throwing up pure hatred at him.

The man seemed to rethink his entire life.

“Which, oh I’m gonna tattle. I don’t give a shit. I’m telling your bigwig dad and the fucking hotel. I’ll get a fruit basket and you’ll get the bitch session of your fucking rich ass life!” You stormed toward him and he shrank a few fearful steps back.

You had a hand up and jammed an angry digit into his chest. “That’s not love! I’m not your fucking fantasy! I’m me! I’m with the love of my life! Who makes me happy! Who I had my fucking awesome meet cute with and guess what!? It was love at first sight! It was awesome! It’s been the best thing that’s ever happened to me! So don’t you dare even pretend to imagine me with anyone else because ‘that thing’ is the best damn person I’ve ever met!!”

You watched the man’s form wiggle as his knees spasmed. “But h-he’s a-!”

“Mutant!?” You roared in his face. “Yeah and the dick is out of this world!”

He trembled in time for the ocean to explode in a crashing wave.

The man fell to the ground and you turned to see a glorious image of your mate bursting from the sea as if he were Poseidon himself.

You smiled at him, not needing to do anything to make your expression as uninhibited as this man supposedly liked.

Donnie took long and seemingly languid steps to your side where he dripped muscle and his full height. “This beach is reserved.”

“I’m sorry!” The man broke out in actual tears before he scrambled, kicking sand up and back, and ran straight towards the hotel.

Donnie watched on for a moment before looking down to where his wet body had made him a sticky platform for the beach granules.

“He’s my new suitor.” You joked lifelessly.

“What.” Donnie graveled out, already annoyed with the sand.

You shook your head and led him back to the water while explaining what had occurred. Donnie reared to pursue, but you splashed water on his legs to rinse the sand off. It didn’t exactly quell him, but when you finished, the staff member was finally arriving with drinks and Donnie had a few choice words. The manager of the resort was soon at your umbrella, apologizing profusely and offering appeasing gifts. Stakes were raised in a negotiation type fashion and you were given a reservation at a luxe restaurant in the next town over. Along with a few bonus amenities and a special boat ride, the manager departed to enact his promises along with a few punishments.

You hoped no employees were caught in the crosshairs, but got little else out when your umbrella toppled around you. The huge thing encapsulated you and you yipped confusion until Donnie pressed into your space. You could still see, but the dreary orange hues from under the cover made space tight. You felt your mate’s breath more than saw him as his face shoved into yours. Sharing oxygen that was rapidly heated from the enclosed space, you imagined the umbrella jostled only a few suspicious times before Donnie was between your legs.

He settled for a damp space, set a pace, and you were soon leaking his possession down your ass and onto the towel. You were kissed affectionately and left deliciously full. Once again curled up, Donnie took to cleaning and making you decent before he finally lifted the umbrella. It came with a breath of fresh air that you gulped down.

“You’re insatiable.” You moaned in fading euphoria.

“You’re my spouse.” He nuzzled your neck.

“I love you.” You spouted and pulled him closer.

He came with adoration which you pecked back. Finally enjoying your melted drinks, you lounged before returning to the water where Donnie had been so rudely interrupted. You played a bit, vowed to get snorkels from the front desk, and returned to the resort building for that dinner reservation. The chariot came in the form of that original bus and you headed to a town where there was a lively seaside feel. Pebbled walkways spoke of age and the residents authenticated with their generations. Here townsfolk spied Donnie as an oddity, but his perfect Italian had them hollering excitement. After eating you were invited to someone’s home where Donnie’s translations skills were put to the test as he was both ruthlessly drilled and tried to explain to you what was happening.

The bus driver ended up joining and you didn’t start driving back until the wee hours of the morning. Light had yet to permeate the sky when you returned and you pretended to deboard the bus in return to the hotel, only to divert course for the beach. Donnie followed after, clearly fatigued, as you toed through sand. You led him straight to the water, where you stared out as it lapped at your ankles.

“Sun rises in the other direction.” He murmured as he slumped against your side.

You planted your feet to hold him up. “I’m betting on that.”

He made a soft, curious trill.

You leaned your head against his.

He lounged in your presence until the weight of standing wore on him.

The moment he lifted his body from yours, you took a few steps away.

He watched on, a little too tired to comprehend as you shed a soft shawl the family matriarch had draped over you. A little flick had the light fabric floating to the dry sands and Donnie trailed the flutter. When he returned you were getting your zipper and his eyes opened up as he caught wind of what you were doing. He leered openly, resisting coming close as you stripped down with an eye flicking back to the resort routinely. No one appeared around, but the second you were naked, you flung yourself into the water.

It rushed back and forth around you for a lazy current and in a glimpse you saw Donnie fight with his clothes. He stumbled once for the tired rush of it all, but got similarly nude before he too dove in. He was upon you immediately where he churred up a storm that rivaled the waves and twirled you around with his superb swimming. You giggled and reigned him in with slippery limbs. “Water’s warm.”

“Seventh warmest…” Donnie nuzzled your neck.

“You would know that…”

He hummed agreement and kissed you.

A gentle flow, you melded with his shape. He guided your hips, anchoring them to his and you tied the knot tight by locking your legs around him. You ground, feeling little more than water and his plastron. It took some adjustments from him with buoyancy, but he soon had a sturdier position to spread his legs. The moment he did, you felt his tail come up, trending in the direction necessary to copulate. You met it and brought your hand down to the smooth triangle. A few angles had you sliding the needle of it against your sex and made him all the more needy as with each pass you got closer to his pelvis.

One such bump felt his cock pressing at his entrance and you angled so he could drop inside. He tightened his grip on your waist and tipped you out for him so it’d be a comfortable entry. Two grinds and he slid slick straight into your heat and you groaned.

“So unfair we’ve been denied this! We were supposed to have done this forever ago!”

“Safer here…” Donnie rocked to get you both more comfortable. “Better.” 

You groaned from the stretch of him and felt the moment he settled just right.

He snapped your body flush to him.

His intensity stoked you and you loved that he could still bring heat to your cheeks. “Do you think we'll always be like this?” 

He leaned in so the tip of his beak touched your nose. “I do.”

“Marriage kink.”

He gave a single puff before he gave into open laughter.

“It’s a thing, probably. Everything’s a thing.”

“Is that what you’ve thought?” He bounced you in his lap.

You whimpered only once before you caught his shoulders to meet his strides.

He churred openly with a satisfied grin.

“We-we’ve been going at it nonstop…!”

“Because we can.”

“We always can!”

“Not like this.”

“Like what?” You were shifted and moaned wanton as he hit you in just the right way.

He was quiet.

Too quiet, in a way that said he was pushing your pleasure to distract you.

You dug your nails into the back of his head, above the scar there so he’d feel it.

He groaned and moved to switch pace, but you bucked your hips sharply, sending him into your recesses.

His eyes rolled and you yanked him down.

“Say it.”

He flicked his eyes away with shame.

“Say it, Don.” You squeezed your legs as hard as you could to prevent further movement.

He could easily break out, but he acted put off instead.

“Donatello.”

“Not married…”

You kissed him in reward.

“Time to make up for. Newly entwined.”

“Marriage sex isn’t different.” You chuckled and took the lead.

He focused only on keeping you afloat and melted into the water at your movements.

“I’ve been pushing you too, though. This one’s all me. I know you were tired.”

“Don’t change. Don’t stop.” He lifted you only a little higher than you were hiking yourself up.

“Want me?”

“Always.”

“Even when I’m old and gray?”

“Always.” He doubled down and pulled you harder.

You hooked his plastron to keep your mind right. “Even when I can’t do this?”

“This.” He was the one to pull you down and force you still. “Is a bonus. Always has been. Unnecessary to our bond. Enhances it, yes, but never has been a requirement. Exists outside my love for you.”

You wilted into him and tucked your forehead into his cheek. “Donnie…”

He pet your back.

He didn’t need to press its honesty.

You both knew.

You loved him.

You loved him so much.

His words stirred you like his wedding vows and there was something apropos about that.

You gave him a single look and he knew to continue.

This time slower, you moved together where your foreheads were cemented. The closeness meant you heard every little twitch and breath despite the water. The water sloshed in time and the whirlpool was the all consuming nature of your love. It swirled on, bigger than the sea and when high tide rolled in, it took with it your tandem cries.

You continued to linger, too close and making each other blurry images, as you twitched with the fill. To the brim as always and right where it needed to be, you hugged Donnie. He held you close in the water and you drifted as he stilled. A gentle to-and-fro with your proximity to the beach, prolonged soak in the salt soon stung your overtaxed sex. Sensitive, Donnie pulled out when necessary and it was with loose limbs that you crawled back to shore just as light streaked the sky.

It brought with it a sense of urgency and you decided to only wrap yourself in your shawl. With the rest of your clothes in hand, you teased him with a wink before running up the beach. He gave chase with his clothes waded up and both of you snuck your way through the hotel to not be spotted and berated for your nude states. It was an exhilarating additional high and he scolded you with kisses once you safely locked your bedroom door. It led to a quick boiling shower where you were both too fatigued to do much else and promptly passed out, still wet, in bed.

When you awoke it was late afternoon and you kicked away from dampness. Your husband was so exhausted, he dozed straight through your jostling and you spied something white sticking out near the door. You didn’t remember seeing anything on your way in, but there were a hundreds reasons why you might not have. Padding over to it, you found it to be on hotel stationary and could only think you were caught. Opening it and looking over, your worries evaporated as it was an invitation to go to town with the other patrons to explore local shops. “Donnie!”

He grunted in bed.

“Get up! We have like an hour!” You hopped over to him and bounced him on the bed.

He groaned loudly and only stopped when he noticed the paper in his face. “Hrm?”

“I’m gonna get ready!” You jumped off and headed toward the bathroom. “We need housekeeping to switch the sheets anyway!”

“The sheets-?!” He made a loud noise of disgust as he felt the latent moisture and was soon behind you brushing his teeth.

You pecked his grouchy form to raise his spirits and he surfaced with little excitement. The night out had been more than enough interaction for him and you offered for him to hang behind for some quiet. He resisted on the case of your honeymoon, but the moment you opened your mouth to say you’d stay too, he staunchly decided it was all he’d do.

You sighed, giving up against his stubbornness and vowed to have a casual day. Digging through your suitcase for something breezy to a city exploration, you frowned as you couldn’t find a particular pair of bottoms that you thought would be perfect. “Hey, Don, where are those… linen pants I had? I thought I packed them.”

“My case. I put them in the mesh bag since the fabric can be delicate.”

“Ah.” You moved to his suitcase and rummaged through a few items until you found it. “Thanks!”

He murmured an affirmation from the bathroom and, as you were putting the mesh bag back, you spied something.

“Don…!”

He stepped out in time and raised a drawn brow.

You held up an apparatus that clinked against itself.

“Ah.” He leaned in the door frame with a cocky smile. “Did I not mention I finished this?”

“You didn’t tell me you started! We talked about this like a year ago!”

“That long?” He churred as he approached. “Time flies.”

“Planning a wedding, so fun.” You gave him a sarcastic stare.

“My wedding?” He knelt down on one knee to kiss the side of your head. “To you? Quite.”

You bumped him and one of his arms came down to keep his half propped form stable. “When were you going to pull this out?”

“If the moment arose.” 

“What kind of moment?” You laughed at his casualness.

“You know…” He hooked a finger into a loop. “One where I need to accentuate my possession. That is why it was created.”

“This not enough?” You maneuvered your left hand to his so your rings would click.

The action did nothing as the spell was now active, but still, its movement held meaning.

The highest being it made Donnie melt into a large green puddle every time it occurred.

He churred so loud into you, it stung your ears.

“I have… an idea…” You murmured against his shoulder.

He couldn’t break the rumbling and instead shifted its pitch to ask you what.

“I know you said you would never subject me to it again, but….”

-

The bus ride over to town was a rambling affair. Loud and boisterous as people tried to one up another on things they’d done so far on their various vacations, you leaned into Donnie. He tucked against you and was trying his best to zone out from the noise. You held his hand to help and he cradled your fingers in a way that said it did. Behind you, there was a fearful presence of the man who proclaimed his love for you. You’d glanced at him when boarding and the way he shrank away said he had his comeuppance. 

He wouldn’t be a problem and he didn’t appear to register on Donnie’s radar at all so you rested on the ride. Eventually arriving at a different locale to the one you went to yesterday, you were filed out and lazily given instructions on when to return. People immediately left, thinking staff was on their time and it was sad to know that was partially true. You hoped the employees would be mean to those who lagged and you moved to pull Donnie along a thoroughfare. He recovered with the air and sun as it hung lazy in the sky. Joined fingers held you together as you looked and eventually came upon a market. There was chatter and hundreds of colored objects had you checking in with your overstimulated mate. 

He passed you a fatigued smile and made mention of the open air. While there was noise both visually and aurally, the crowd was thinned out by the abundant space. It meant he was okay, but his eyes roved. You knew he cared little for the goods and you had a sense that the similarities to your last vacation were weighing on him. Change would help recontextualize these moments, so it was here that you excused him. He pecked your cheek and gave you a heated gaze that had promise of his protective gaze from afar before he walked away. You watched after his form with affection and then continued to shop. Buying some souvenir coral jewelry for Coral and a few trinkets for your family, you walked with your bags along the streets. You came out to a view of the ocean and lingered there for a long while.

It was beautiful, but the sun beat down mercilessly until it hummed in your ears. Taking it as a sign, you turned your back to the view and looked down the quiet street you’d come down. Its shade had a blue hue to it so when you entered it, it had a similar reprieve as dipping into the sea. You waded through stone paths, submerged, and headed towards the piazza. That thrum echoed and when you stepped out it was dead silent.

All the people from the resort and town were gone. If this were a movie, you imagined a wind would kick up a leaf just to accentuate the desolation. Instead, blocks of shadows from the late afternoon light begged to take the square. As the only occupants, they carved sharp figures of darkness out of the white shining stone ground. A severe contrast, it was only broken up by the trickle of water from a fountain. Donnie had taught you that these were installed in many stone cities to cool the air. 

Walking towards it as a focal point, you looked from stall to stall. The shops sat empty with their wares lined up, waiting for both customers and salesmen alike. With no one around, there was no fear that anything would be stolen so you walked along and did a warped version of your earlier shopping.

You neared the end of one side of the square and out of the corner of your eye you saw something fly by. Turning fully to study the space, it was similarly empty, but you approximated the figure had dropped from a sloped roof on the south end of the piazza and had stowed themselves away down a thin strip between buildings.

In a quick jog, you took a wide curve around the fountain to look into the mouth of the alley from afar.

You had a straight view down the space and there was nothing there.

Humming loudly to dismiss the incident as no bother, you tucked your hands behind your back to stroll.

Out of the piazza and down another shade cooled walkway, you came upon a road that was darkened by tire treads. Motorbikes and the like took this path and you looked up and down to hear nary an engine.

The town was deserted.

You joked aloud about missing the bus.

You painted teasing woes about missing dinner.

In a skipping turn, you mooned over your husband and your interrupted honeymoon.

The city did not respond.

You made a sudden leap at the next alley, but it was equally empty.

Frowning, you turned to lean against a building just outside the mouth.

From the clue you had gotten, this seemed like the most likely direction.

The alley was also the only one you’d seen on the street, but Donnie wasn’t here.

Pursing your lips to one corner of your mouth, you wondered if you’d missed another signal.

You were both on similar yet different hunts.

This had been your proposal and what you agreed upon.

The chase that was on both your terms.

You gave Donnie time to prepare.

Donnie would toy with you while also dropping hints of his direction.

You’d both follow him and he’d have his game of cat and mouse.

Your bond was more than strong enough.

You were curious how he’d achieved the hypnosis this time.

You were pretty sure Hypno’s streetlights had been the cause before, but it was far too bright for such things.

Pondering how to get your leg back up in the chase, said sun glinted off metal in your periphery.

“Ha!” You spun towards it and saw nothing. “Now, wait! I just looked there! You weren’t there so why are you leading me back!?”

Grabbing the wall you looked into the alley which was just as empty as it had been before.

Narrowing your gaze, you studied the space.

You reached out and waved a hand in case there was camouflage.

Finding nothing, you wondered if it had been a trick.

Donnie could have thrown a coin which meant he was in the opposite direction.

No, you would have heard it land.

What else reflected light?

You did a quick cycling of your mental databases and came up with heliographs. 

They used sunlight and mirrors which meant to shine one in your direction, he’d have to be on the roofs across the street.

Turning to study them, you walked out of the alley and tried to guess the angle.

You were squinting at the corner of one particular building when you felt something slither around your ankle.

Your body shuddered at the cold steely texture.

The shiver allowed the metal guise to wind and snake up under your pant leg.

“You jerk. I did find you…!”

Donnie churred and it echoed in the alley behind you.

“How’d you hide?” You wondered and felt another of his mechanical claws lick your other heel.

You didn’t need to turn because in a quick python’s coil, your legs were wrapped and you were brought to the mechanic’s master. “I wonder…”

Donnie stood in the mouth of the alley with his battle shell latched tightly to his back. The stabilizing piece around his waist now appeared more intricate and matched what was above it. Visible because he’d unbutton his baggy vacation top, straps of black leather belted his upper body. Disappearing over his shoulders, what crossed his chest was laid so that it perfectly fit around his pectoral scutes. The harness gave his chest a particular perky illusion and smaller neon purple o-rings connected the network to a large one riveted in his center.

It was the item you found in his suitcase. 

It was the cinching piece that had him considering another chase. 

It was a physical and weighty reminder of how he deferred to you. 

With him wearing it, you both knew that he would keep a level head. 

You also had your own role to play in the reassuring pantomime and it was why he’d left your arms free.

Reaching down, you set your purchases on the sidewalk and went for your little bag. It had a lengthy strap which was bolt snapped on either side in purple that not so coincidentally matched Donnie’s harness. “You letting me win?”

“Never.” He spoke in his own voice.

You smiled as you leaned forward.

The mechanical arms brought you in close.

He puffed out his chest with pride.

Pulling back the pin, you hooked the snap bolt into his center loop.

You let the bolt close and then wound the length of leather around your hand before yanking the leash hard.

He came forward with an all too eager jolt.

You pulled so he was positioned below you and you felt the mechanical arms raise you in reverence. “Admit I won then.”

“You won. You’ve always won.”

You smiled and pulled harder to kiss him.

“My heart.” He spoke right before your lips met.

💜THE END💜

For a final time in this fanfic, allow me to thank @tmntxthings and @thepinkpanther83 for all that they've done.

Thank you all again for reading and I hope you look forward to the sequel, Soft Spot, that will be premiering in a few weeks.