#Even the home of the other mutants didn’t feel like a home it felt yawning and empty like they could never really have anything if their own

[oddly-casual]

I’m gonna try and keep this as non spoiler-ey as I can, but one thing about Mutant Mayhem that I appreciated was that the sewers felt lonely. Every iteration of tmnt makes the lair feel lonely and isolated at times because the turtles are literally forced into hiding (except for Rise, their lair always felt like a home).

But in MM they took extra steps to make the space feel cramped and dark, no major lighting source aside from lamps, candles, and phone lights. Warm colors are scarce in the sewer and the pipes and valves take away any space they could’ve have had, not just in their home but everywhere in the sewers. It actually makes you not want to be in the sewers, because it’s all cold. Even the bars of the sewer grate look like prison bars! Every time they close the manhole cover it sounds like a door being slammed, like they are sealing themselves away.

Obviously this changes, and MM isn’t the first to do this, but it’s the first time watching anything TMNT related that I actually felt uncomfortable in the space that was supposed to be their home.

[free-pool-trash]

disappointment - peter maximoff

i’ve yet again lost my ability to write :D anyway here you go lovelies <3 idek know what this is tbh i just had to post something (it’s not good im sorry I seriously hate this omg anyway im going)

word count: 2k

warnings: senseless angst, WandaVision spoilers, swearing

comments are appreciated <3

masterlist

“Are you nervous about the mission tomorrow? ‘Cus I am.” Peter’s voice sounded beside your ear. His head was tucked between your neck and shoulder while his chest was pressed flush against your back, his arms wound tightly around your middle.

With a tired yawn, you rubbed your boyfriend’s forearm soothingly. It was late and you were half asleep but you’d been dating Peter long enough to know that he could never sleep if there was something on his mind. “You’re not even going on the mission tomorrow, baby. Why’re you nervous?” You lazily played with his fingers, stopping them from anxiously drumming against your stomach, as you slurred your words sleepily.

Peter let out a heavy sigh and hid his face against your neck, pecking the skin softly with his lips as he did, “I’m not going, but you are. M’worried about you…”

His confession caused your eyes to flutter open.

Peter Maximoff had the biggest heart of anyone you’ve ever met. He loved hard but he worried harder. So when you heard the slight shake in his raspy voice, you twisted in his grip to face him.

His lips were turned downwards, as were his eyes as he avoided your gaze.

“Pete…” You whispered, moving your arms to wrap around his neck. “I’m gonna be okay. Raven and Charles will be with me the whole time, we’ll be in and out. I promise.” You pressed your lips against his quickly before pulling away to look at him, his brown eyes finally meeting yours, his hands holding you tightly against him still.

“I just don’t get why Charles won’t let me come.” He complained with a childish pout.

You let out a quiet laugh before tugging Peter’s head down slightly so his forehead could rest against yours, “We really need this mutant on our side, Pete. Charles insisted that only X-Men with the “powers of persuasion” are going.” You explained, making air quotes despite the fact he couldn’t see them.

With another light kiss you continued, “And hey, what’s the worst that can happen?”

Peter scoffed at that, scrunching his nose up in distaste, “He could blast the only woman I’ve ever loved into a different dimension.” He grumbled, rubbing his nose against yours.

His worry wasn’t exactly misplaced. There’d been a group of mutants on a warpath lately, one of the group slightly friendlier than the others, albeit, still highly malicious. The man in question had the ability to open portals to other realities, and he’d been using said ability to get rid of anyone who stood in his way.

Charles thought he’d be an asset, Raven thought he should be taken out of the picture and you thought the man was more than just a lackey, like he let on.

So Peter, as much as he liked to overthink, was definitely onto something. There was a huge possibility that, if anyone was going to get blasted into another reality on tomorrow’s mission, it was probably going to be you.

Your mutation was mind control, you could make anyone do anything just by saying the words. Charles’ tactic was to try persuade the mutant and if that failed, yourself and Raven would be brought in to manipulate his decision.

“That won’t happen.” You tried to reassure him, letting your hands run through his hair but Peter remained on edge.

“But what if-“ He started but you cut him off with a gentle tug on his silver hair.

“No buts. I’m gonna go on this mission, it’s gonna be a pain in the ass but it’s gonna be fine. I’m going to come home with not even a scratch on me. Then I’ll find you and you’ll kiss me and welcome me home like you always do.” You rattled off the usual post-mission routine with a fond smile across your lips.

Peter let out a defeated sigh, a smile of his own beginning to form as you placed lazy kisses against his jaw.

“Fine. I believe you. But if you don’t come back I’m gonna be seriously pissed.” He jostled your body, chuckling happily when you let out an airy giggle against his neck. “Don’t go getting any ideas, sweetheart. Even going to a different reality won’t get rid of me.”

You continued placing short kisses against his neck and jaw until you worked your way back up to his pink lips, you ghosted over them with your own, only barely pressing them down and pulling a whine from Peter when you pulled away to look at him with a teasing grin.

“So say your lovely girlfriend does get sent to an alternate reality… would you follow?” Within a second of your question, Peter had flipped your positions so that your back was against the mattress and the man in question was hovering on top of you with a cheeky grin.

“Sweet cheeks, I’d follow you anywhere.” He told you and you giggled at the stupid pet name before pulling him down to kiss you.

Your eyes fluttering shut as you murmured against his lips, “I love you, idiot.”

Softly, Peter tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I love you too.

*

It was safe to say that the mission was a complete failure. As you’d thought, the mutant Charles wanted to befriend turned out to have plans of his own, one of those plans being to throw you head first into a different dimension, apparently.

As much as it pained you to admit; Peter was right.

Fuck, he was probably going out of his mind with worry. You kicked yourself internally, not believing that you’d actually been careless enough to get caught out by the burly mutant. Not that it was entirely your fault, now that you thought about it actually, it was pretty much entirely Charles’ fault for doing his usual; not listening to you. You warned him it wouldn’t work, yet he sent you in anyway. If he didn’t find a way to get you home soon you’d… well, you weren’t really sure what you’d do. Probably find Peter and tell him you love him then go kick Charles’ ass.

Dreams of giving your professor the biggest telling off of his life came to a crashing halt when you took in your new surroundings. It seemed you’d been regurgated out in the middle of some run down town, if you didn’t know any better you would’ve thought you were still in your own reality, but unfortunately, you did know better.

There was something wrong, or if not already, something was about to go very wrong in the little town. You could feel it. Someone very powerful was about to lose control of themselves. You couldn’t exactly tell the future but you had something of a disaster radar that told you when shit was about to hit the fan.

With nothing else to do, you decided to follow the feeling as it led you to a red car.

Noticing a woman in the driver’s seat, you approached cautiously. When she noticed you walking towards her she rolled down the passenger side window, looking at you with a questioning gaze.

“Sorry to intrude,” You told her genuinely, “It’s just I thought that maybe someone needed help.” You bet around the bush slightly, you knew it was the redhead in front of you that needed help but it wasn’t in your nature to use your powers to demand someone to spill their souls to you.

When her eyes lit up red, you didn’t startle. The feeling of someone poking around your thoughts wasn’t a new sensation to you, Charles seldom knew when to mind his own business, so the fact that the woman before you was reading your mind hardly phased you.

“I’ve got abilities too.” You told her with a small smile before going on, her eyes back to normal and her form more relaxed.

She nodded in understanding, “You’re very far from home, no?” Her tone was sympathetic and you let out a humourless laugh.

“That might be an understatement. Pretty morbid thinking I’ll probably never find my way home.” It was only when you spoke the words that it really hit you that the chances of returning home were slim to none. You’d probably never see the love of your life again, you’d probably have to wave goodbye to any possibility of having a future with your speedster.

Catching onto your miserable train of thought, Wanda leaned over and opened the passenger door for you, motioning for you to get in. Gratefully, you took the stranger up on her offer.

“I’ve lost everything too.” She confessed and you weren’t sure why but you felt the need to comfort her, once again following your instincts, you squeezed her hand and to your surprise, she reciprocated the action.

“My name is Wanda, by the way.” She introduced herself and you responded with a kind smile.

“I’m Y/n. It’s nice to meet you.”

With a deep breath, Wanda squeezed your hand one last time, then turned to face you. “I have to do something. Will you wait here until I come back? I believe we could be of some help to each other.”

“Of course. Take your time, I’ll wait for as long as you need.” You promised her. Watching as she took another shaky breath and got out of the car and made her way towards the foundation of a house.

After about a minute, Wanda fell to her knees. And then you saw nothing but scarlet.

*

Life in WestView was good. Sure, there were some holes in your memory, but other than that, things were good.

You had a nice house, right next to Wanda’s, your hair seemed to style itself most of the time and the nightmares that plagued you were hardly ever your own. Things were fine.

Being blissfully ignorant was good enough for you for a number of days, until a familiar face caused all of your hopes of living happily unaware to crumble to the ground.

You’d been over at Wanda and Visions house for dinner when he’d knocked on the door. Standing on Wanda’s front porch was the one and only, Peter Maximoff. Your Peter. The person you loved the most and your ticket home.

The second his brown eyes locked on yours you’d been so sure. You would’ve bet your life that the person playing Wanda’s twin was Peter.

Perhaps your fatal flaw was wishful thinking as the hope of your love coming to rescue you, however romantic, was naive.

It hit you like a freight train, that realisation. You were truly and completely alone, for when WestView fell it took all of your hope with it.

He wasn’t Peter and he never had been. Sure, he had his face, his body, his personality and even his superspeed… but he wasn’t him.

When you’d uncovered his true identity with Monica, a part of you shattered on the spot. A familiar, decolate feeling washed over you in the moment and you weren’t sure if you’d even bother to carry on.

It was the kind of gut wrenching feeling of being so disappointed to the point where it physically hurt. It was the pain of truly accepting that he hadn’t actually followed you into another reality, that maybe your love wasn’t strong enough to warrent a visit to another reality and it was the pain of knowing that his life would go on without you.

The X-Men would encourage him to move on and, you had a fair idea of how it would go, he’d fight them relentlessly but eventually he’d cave, he’d let Jean set him up on a date and then he’d go from there, however reluctantly.

And you? You’d simply be a name lost in time. The one they think about, from time to time. You’d be spared nothing more than, “I wonder how she’s doing’ or ‘whatever happened to that girl? Remember the one?”, but life would go on without you.

That sting, you knew, would never leave you. As hope was dangerous and unreliable and painful you made yourself a promise, you wouldn’t hold out for a knight in shining armour to come rescue you. All you could do now was find a way to live. By yourself.

PART 2

[another-tmnt-writer]

You Fell From the Sky - Part 2

Leonardo x Reader

Author: Admin Mo

Summary: After falling from the sky and landing literally in the arms of your favorite turtle, it takes some adjustment to live in another reality, but with the help of the leader in blue, you’re getting used to it.

Note: Let it be known that I wrote the first part of this before I knew reality shifting was a thing, but now that I know it is……let me tell you, I am tempted…

Warnings: None?

Word Count: 1.6k

It had been three weeks. Three whole weeks living in the lair. You were over the moon. Honestly, it was spectacular. However, after three weeks without a phone charger (you’d been using it very, very sparingly and had it turned off most of the time) your phone was now at one percent. So, you popped into the lab, where Donnie was at the moment.

“Hey Donnie?” You asked tentatively, standing in the doorway.

“Oh, hey (Y/N)! Can I help you with something?” He asked, his voice friendly. He looked up at you, giving you his full attention from whatever he was working on.

“Um, do you have a phone charger I can use?”

“Of course!” He pulled open a drawer on his desk that was absolutely filled with charging chords of every time, meticulously organized with twist ties. “What kind do you need?”

“iPhone.” You said.

He reached into the drawer and handed you a ten-foot chord. “Here you go.”

“Thank you!” You smiled. “What are you working on, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I don’t mind!” He scooted over to let you see his screen. “I’m working on figuring out how to open an interdimensional portal right now. Sorry it’s taking me so long.”

“Don’t be sorry. This is literally groundbreaking work. You’re a genius, but I definitely didn’t expect you to do it overnight.”

“Well that’s reassuring.” He chuckled. “I’ll keep you posted. Don’t want to keep you here any longer than we have to.”

You knew he was kidding about the last bit, but your heart sank a little when he said it. You liked being at the lair. You liked spending time with the guys. Sure, you wanted to go home at some point, but you wished it didn’t have to come so soon.

“Thank you, Donnie.”

You left the lab to find Leo lingering just outside. He looked concerned, his arms crossed, head tilted, blue, blue eyes focused on you. “You okay?” he asked softly.

You nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“No reason. You just seemed a little down.” He answered. He stared at you for a moment before remembering, “Oh, April is here. She brought you some more clothes.”

“Awesome. Thank you so much.”

“Don’t mention it.” He shrugged, leading you back out to the living room, where Mikey was ranting about something to April and Casey while Raph listened and shook his head.

You stared at each of them for a long moment, absorbing. Megan Fox and Stephen Amell were standing like twenty feet away from you. It was overwhelming to say the very least. “Holy shit…”

“Hi! You must be (Y/N). I’m April. This is Casey.”

“Hockey puck has got a bit of a chip on his shoulder, but he means well.” Raph elaborated.

“This is so insane.” You laughed, smiling at them. “It’s incredible to meet you. The boys…told you where I’m from, right?”

“Yeah, they did.” April nodded. “That must have been quite the jump.”

“It was. I’m still…getting used to it, I guess.”

“Well, take your time.” She nudged Raph playfully. “They take some getting used to.”

“Hey!” Raph scoffed, nudging her back. “Ya took some getting used to yourself, O’Neil.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much.” Leo said, his eyes sparkling. “I think you’re fitting in just fine.”

You ignored the way your heart raced when he said it, replying with a smirk, “I agree.”

***

It was later that night. You were in the kitchen, baking with Splinter’s permission. He was in his room drinking tea and the boys were out on patrol. That was the other thing. Every time they left, you felt empty. You knew they’d be fine, but there was always a little bit of worry nagging in the back of your brain. What if they…weren’t?

So: stress-baking. The recipe of the evening? Chocolate chip cookies. They were a classic you were sure the boys would like. Your hair was up in a messy bun and you had some tunes playing from your phone. You scooped out the balls of cookie dough, setting them in careful rows on the pan before sticking them into the hot oven.

You baked for a few hours, rotating trays until you had a batch big enough to feed four hungry mutant turtles, their father, and yourself.

You switched off the oven, and right as you did, you heard their voices echoing through the tunnels until finally, they entered the lair.

“Good night?” You asked hopefully.

“Better now, angelcakes.” Mikey winked and then stopped in his tracks when he saw the steaming pile of fresh-baked cookies. His eyes widened and he gasped excitedly. “Are these for us?”

“Yep.”

“Wow, she bakes, too, Leo.” Raph teased, reaching for a cookie in time with Donnie.

“Thanks, (Y/N),” said the turtle in the purple bandana.

“Of course.”

Leo went in for one last, still reeling a bit from Raph’s comment, his cheeks rosier than usual. He said softly, “Thank you for doing this.”

“Thank you for letting me crash here. I honestly don’t know what I would have done without you guys finding me when you did.”

“It’s the least we could do.” Leo insisted.

“Alright, quit yer flirting. Let’s all go watch a movie or something.” Raph insisted, walking out towards the TV. The rest of you followed, and of course when you and Leo went to find seats, the only two that were left were right next to each other.

You settled in, blushing a bit. Raph had a smug smirk on his face.

“What?” You challenged, causing him to chuckle.

“Nothin’.”

As it got later, it also got colder, and you soon found yourself shivering the slightest bit, wishing you’d thought to grab a blanket before the movie started like the rest of the guys had.

“Are you cold?” Leo asked.

Instead of telling him you weren’t like you wanted to, you nodded. Without hesitation, he pulled half of his large blue blanket onto your lap, letting you share his warmth. As if you weren’t blushing enough before, he just had to be a gentleman and fluster you even further.

“T-thanks.” You could have punched yourself for stuttering, but Leo didn’t seem to mind. He still kept a polite distance from you, his leg a good few inches from yours despite the blanket that was draped across you both.

You were quiet for the rest of the movie, and when it was over, Raph went to work out, Donnie retreated into his lab, and Mikey went to his room to scroll through TikToks on his phone. That left you and Leo sitting awkwardly under the large blue knitted blanket you were sure Raph had made. Maybe it had been a Christmas present or something. You weren’t sure.

“Not to give you déjà vu, but I’m sorry about Raph.” Leo chuckled. “I asked him to stop, so of course it only got worse.”

“I really don’t mind.” You told him, meeting his clear blue gaze. “That’s what brothers do, isn’t it?”

He laughed. “Yeah, I guess it is. Do you have any siblings?”

“No, unfortunately. I’m an only child. Grew up with my aunt because my parents couldn’t be bothered to actually parent.”

“Mmm.” Leo hummed, nodding.

“I guess that’s probably why I latched onto the idea of you guys so much as a kid. I liked the idea of a sibling bond like that. Working together as a team. Having a built-in group of friends to hang out with.”

“It’s not all sunshine and rainbows, but we do work well together.” Leo agreed. “When we’re not bickering, that is.”

You were quiet for a moment, mustering up courage before you said, “He’s right, though. Raph, I mean.”

Leo stared at you, his eyes widening in half-realization. “What…how…what do you mean?” His voice cracked when he asked it, his heart pounding.

“Well…Leo, I’ve had a crush on you since I was fifteen years old; I doubt it’s going away anytime soon.”

He looked at you in shock, pretty sure he’d hallucinated what you just said. All he could reply with was a shaky, “On me?”

You laughed. “Yes, Leo. On you. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same. I’m not even supposed to exist here.”

“I do. Feel the same.” He blurted. His statement was quick, but it was firm. Carefully, he took your hand in his large, green, three-fingered one and he was reminded just how different the two of you actually were. He was about to let go, but you squeezed his hand reassuringly. He laughed at himself, slightly embarrassed to be floundering in front of you, but it was out of his control. “I’m sorry, I’m new to this.”

“That’s okay.” You smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I promise I’ll do my best to make you happy. Just let me know if I’m doing something wrong. I’m learning, after all.” His thumb rubbed the back of your hand. “And I know that…at some point you’re going to have to go back. But…I’m willing to make the most of whatever time we have.”

“Me too.” You nodded. A yawn slipped from your lips. It was getting late. You wouldn’t be surprised if the sun was already up. “I think it’s about time I got to bed.” You told him, standing up and setting the blanket on the couch.

Since you’d been there, the boys had created you a makeshift room of your own in one of the giant pipes in the wall, a little one with your own mattress and some bedding Raph had whipped up for you.

Leo stood up too, towering over you as soon as he did. You stood on your toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” Leo replied, smiling at you like you’d put the moon and stars in the sky with your bare hands. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.” You echoed, walking off towards your pipe, a new kind of warmth swirling around in your chest.

[rexsjaigeyes]

Pretty as a Picture

Donald Pierce x gender neutral mutant reader | NSFW, 18+

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: non-consensual voyeurism, public masturbation, descriptions of captivity & torture, descriptions of a rough blowjob/facefucking

A/N: I wanted to do something creepy and fucked up, but please be wary of the warnings! There are many non-consensual themes in this, so please don’t read this if that can trigger you.

Donald smirked as he walked down the empty hallway of the facility. It had been a long day chasing down some stray mutants, but he wasn’t eager to go home just yet. He had somewhat of a nightly ritual, and that ritual involved you.

His long legs carried him down the winding hallways, knowing exactly where he was going even in the low light of the building. He had walked through this particular floor more times than he cared to admit; he had the layout of all the rooms memorized, and he knew exactly where you would be.

His combat boots squeaked against the tile floor as he stopped in front of your room. Actually, it was more like a prison cell, but ‘room’ sounded more humane – and Donald hated to think of you as their prisoner. One day, you’d finally warm up to him and trade this cell for a place in his home. He knew it would take a while for that to happen, but he was willing to wait. For now, this small room was sufficient enough for Transigen to keep you as their little experiment. It was a shame that you were a mutant; you could have had so much more potential if you hadn’t been subject to the torture and constant surveillance in this place.

Donald glanced up at the corner of your room, looking straight into the lens of a small security camera pointed towards him. He gave the camera a little wave and a toothy grin before its blinking red light turned off. This wasn’t the first time he had found himself in front of your room. He wasn’t allowed to enter, of course, but Donald had made a deal with the security guards to turn off the cameras whenever he felt the urge to check up on you.

Luckily, your room looked more like an observation room; the wall separating you from the hallway was really just a giant pane of glass, so you had no privacy from any passersby. At this hour though, the only only ones passing by were Donald, the occasional janitor, and the guards who checked the floor in rotations. He had been here enough times to learn the schedules of the janitors and guards on duty. His windows of opportunity weren’t scarce, but they were short-lived – he only had about 30 minutes before the cameras would turn on and the next guard would search this floor.

Of course, he was allowed to roam the building at any time, but it was what he did in front of your room that wouldn’t have been appreciated by the guards or his boss. Most nights, he found himself just checking on you for a few minutes before going home; he liked to make sure there wasn’t any permanent damage after all the tests the scientists would run on you. But other nights, he liked to watch you sleep. And on rare occasions, he’d even give into his desires and take matters into his own hands – well, one flesh hand, to be specific. Tonight seemed to be one of those rare occasions.

His little ritual started out innocent enough. First, he noticed how peaceful you always looked when you were sleeping. Then he was captivated by the thought of how vulnerable you looked too. A part of him wondered how you could look so calm and at ease when you were literally held here against your will. He supposed you had just accepted your fate as a prisoner, but that thought always pissed him off a little bit. Maybe it was because the one thing you hadn’t accepted yet was his affection towards you. You never seemed to need him the way his body craved you. So whenever he saw you like this, he couldn’t help but think about how easily he could use your state of vulnerability to his advantage.

Donald watched you through the glass, thinking about all the things he wished he could do to you if he didn’t have his career and reputation to uphold. He couldn’t exactly burst into your room and take what he wanted – there were too many risks and disadvantages to that. For one, he needed you to want him too. On top of that, he didn’t want anyone to find out that he caught feelings for a mutant. So given the circumstances, he would settle for just watching you through a thin pane of glass for now.

His train of thought was interrupted by movement from you, but he didn’t bother to hide himself from your view. He watched you turn over to your side, your eyes still closed as you continued sleeping. It was moments like these that always made Donald’s heartbeat quicken; a part of him secretly wanted you to catch him watching you. He sighed softly, disappointed that tonight was another night you’d fail to notice his attention.

You stretched again, and he watched intently as your blanket slid lower down your body. The low light from the hallway illuminated your body perfectly, and he could see the way your chest rose and fell with each breath you took. You looked so fragile, and he thought about how perfectly his large frame would engulf your body.

His pulse quickened as his mind wandered. He thought about what it would feel like if you were pinned beneath him, helpless and unable to resist his touch. Donald knew that if given the chance, he could convince you to stay with him and give him whatever he wanted. He was good at being persuasive – it was part of his job, after all – and the thought of you giving into him was enough to make him rock hard.

Donald glanced at his watch, knowing he only had a short timeframe to do what he desperately needed to do. Fortunately, he had done this enough times to know exactly how much time he needed, and at this point he knew he wouldn’t need very long. He could already feel himself throbbing in the confines of his tight pants just from watching you stretch out on your bed. Without wasting any more time, he unzipped his pants and hastily pulled out his cock.

A barely-muffled groan escaped him once his hot length was met with the cool air. No matter how many times he did this, the rush of being so exposed in the middle of the hallway – and in front of your room – was exhilarating. The only thing that could have made it better was getting caught in the act. He would love to see that innocent, wide-eyed expression you'd give him if you looked up and saw him stroking his cock to the sight of you. In his fantasies, he imagined that you’d welcome him into your room if you ever caught him jerking off; he knew it wasn’t realistic, but a man could dream.

His eyelids fluttered closed as he wrapped his hand around the base of his dick before slowly sliding it up and down. He used his metal hand to steady himself, gently pressing it against the window to your room, being careful not to make an audible ‘tap’ from the metal coming in contact with the glass. Looking up, he groaned as his eyes traced your body, imagining what your body would look like if it was laid bare to his lustful gaze.

Donald stroked himself faster, watching you eagerly and letting his thoughts wander to all the things he wanted to do to you. He focused on the steady rise and fall of your chest and imagined how lovely you would look if you were panting and moaning from his touch. His movements stilled for a second when he saw you shift in your bed, but you only yawned and readjusted your body a little.

Even the way you yawned was oddly intoxicating for him to watch. In his lustful haze, he thought about what those soft lips would look like if they were wrapped around his length. His groans grew louder, echoing through the abandoned hallway, but he didn’t have it in him to care about the possibility of someone hearing him. He was too busy thinking about what it would feel like if the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat.

He sped up, feeling his climax build as he closed his eyes and thought of you on your knees in front of him. He thought of how lovely you’d look with tears running down your cheeks as he fucked your mouth, and he wished he could wrap a hand in your hair and hold you in place while he used your throat for his pleasure.

Before he knew it, he shuddered and painted the glass window with ropes of his cum, leaving a mess that left very little to the imagination. Donald groaned softly, pumping himself a few more times as the pleasure washed over him. He panted softly, taking a moment to collect himself before pushing his cock back into his pants and zipping himself up.

Looking up at his handiwork, he chuckled softly and checked to see if you were still asleep. Unsurprisingly, you hadn’t moved an inch, but it didn’t matter anymore. Like clockwork, the red light on the camera in your room blinked back to life. Smirking in its direction, he turned on his heels and left with a satisfied grin. Donald wasn’t worried about the mess he left behind. He knew the janitor would clean it up if he found it. If not, you’d wake up to see the little gift he left for you.

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

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[remmushound]

Curse of the clan part 17! @scentedcandlecryptid

Leonardo was terrified! He had never ridden a horse before— how could he have? And this horse wasn’t exactly small! With each steady trot the horse took, Leonardo could feel the saddle shift from the right to the left in time with the horses hoofsteps. Leonardo wove his fingers into the horse's mane, pressing his body low in the saddle as each step made him feel like he was going to fall.

“Can we switch?” Leonardo gave a weak laugh, his eyes still squeezed shut as he tried to disassociate from the terrifying experience.

“Trust me, mine isn’t much better!” Usagi laughed; he and Nuriyuki were on a seat-like saddle strapped to Genisuki’s shoulders.

“Ah, shuddap!” Genosuki snorted and shook his head, making the rabbit and the badger shake and tumble in the saddle. Every one of Genisuki’s steps were over twice Usagi’s, and the extra size of both him and the horse made their progress across the land greater than ever.

The rest of the journey, they didn't encounter any more trouble. Whether they had managed to get out past where the offending ninja dared to pursue, or if they took one look at the rhinoceros and thought it a lost cause, Leonardo didn't know. But he certainly didn't miss the attacks! Through night and day, Genisuki carried on like a runaway train. They stopped only for enough time to eat and let Leonardo’s horse rest; after about a day of chafing, Leonardo grew used to the constant wobble of the stallion and was even able to bring up the pace to a steady trot, and eventually to a run. He nicknamed the creature El Diablo, a joke more than anything serious; the horse was the sweetest creature ever!

The group eventually found themselves in grass so high that the horse was hesitant to pass. It was of little trouble to the rhino yokai, who pushed through the grass and flattened down a path for Leonardo and El Diablo to follow.

“We can’t be more than a day away from my master’s home.” Usagi stated, holding his nose to the breeze to smell the familiar, earthy scent.

They had left the majority of snowfall behind for muddy plains that tried to suck them down. With each step, Genisuki sank deep into the mud. The horse was having similar troubles and, after a few panicked hoofsteps, he refused to go any further. Usagi looked back when he realized Leonardo and his steed weren’t going to make any progress, and then looked to the darkening sky.

“We should rest for now.” Usagi said, “The mud is going to freeze overnight and it will make our journey go a lot smoother.”

“Are you sure we can risk the delay?” Leonardo asked, “I can walk.” The thought of leaving the horse behind made his heart ache, but if that’s what he had to do, then he was sure the horse could make a living on its own. It was a horse!

“We’re close. Very close.” Usagi said, “The lands have changed since I saw them last. We’re close to the Dogra school; we have to remain focused—AH!”

Usagi’s speech was interrupted by his sharp yelp as Genisuki flopped down hard. The muddy earth quaked around him. Genisuki didn't seemed to care as he stretched out his stiff and overworked body, his muzzle parting in a long yawn. As he stretched his arms and shoulders, he knocked Usagi and Nuriyuki from their saddle and into the mud with a splat.

“Ooo! Mud bunny!” Genisuki laughed as he looked down at the samurai, his fur coated heavy and dark with mud that spared no part of his body. Nuriyuki laughed as he sank deeper into the mud and started to splash around, tossing mud at Genisuki and Usagi both. Genisuki dropped the saddle from his shoulders and flipped over, rolling around to let the mud coat his thick skin.

Leonardo jumped down from his steed and was immediately ankle-keep in sticky, uncomfortably warm mud. He scooped up a handful of it, wincing at the feeling as it got under his nails. But still, he turned it into a projectile and launched it at Usagi. The samurai saw the mud coming his way and he naturally swung his katana to intercept. It didn't do much but get mud all over the blade. Usagi winced, his ears pulling back, but then he scooped up his own handful and tossed it at Leonardo while the mutant laughed; the ball of wet earth went right in his mouth.

Leonardo gagged and spat trying to rid himself of the disgusting taste that had already overwhelmed his senses and gone down his throat. In retaliation for the cheap shot, Leonardo started an all-out mud war against the rabbit, samurai versus ninja. The longer the fight went on, the more Leonardo could feel the stress and anxiety melting away from him like a popsicle on a hot day. With each lug of his arm, the sore and worn muscles felt young and strong. When the mud hit him, splattering over the heat of his body, he felt like a child again, in the sewer throwing slime balls at his brothers and getting ganged up on by all three of them. He had laughed it off like he always did and plotted his revenge, which came in the form of many-a hidden beach ball and stuffed rabbits. It was good to be a kid— he still was a kid! It was easy to forget that with what he had gone through.

One of Leonardo’s stray mud balls hit Genisuki in the face. Usagi gasped as he witnessed the event, but Leonardo only laughed. The mutant’s eyes went wide, however, when Genisuki gave a low rumble in his throat and stood up. Leonardo gave a low yelp and ran to hide behind Usagi, shoving the rabbit forward to pass on the blame. Usagi threw his hands up and looked back at Leonardo; he said nothing, but his eyes vowed vengeance. Genisuki picked up a large glob of mud in hands that was as big as Leonardo’s plastron, holding it above his head with a show-offish growl.

“Daddy.” Leonardo gulped.

The mud collided first with Usagi, but the rabbit stood no chance against the force of the blow. He flew backward and slammed into Leonardo, both shinobi going down in a pile of hot mud. Genisuki pointed and laughed at them as they emerged from the attack like some creature from the blue lagoon. Usagi gave a low, disgusted whine as he tried to shake the mud out of his caked-on fur. When he could see again, his eyes settled on Nuriyuki; the badger was just as muddy as the rest of them, even without participating in the games. His nose was stuck to the air, flaring with each slow breath he took of the crosswind. Usagi gave Leonardo a fond pet on the head before he walked over to join Nuriyuki, bringing his nose to intercept the wind.

Genisuki came up behind the two of them, his nose dragging in a deep, thoughtful taste of the wind. Leonardo couldn’t smell anything! Genisuki’s expression looked almost haunted. He glanced down at Usagi, whose eyes seemed lost in something Leonardo couldn’t begin to understand.

“Don’t…” Was all Genisuki said, his voice soft. Usagi seemed to hesitate, as if he were contemplating heeding Genisuki’s warnings, before he bolted off into the grass like a speeding bullet.

“USAGI!” Nuriyuki ran after, disappearing into the field.

“What’s happening?” Leonardo didn't understand what was happening, but still he bolted after the rabbit and badger. He didn't get far before a very powerful and rough hand scooped him up in a cradle; Genisuki was charging through on a warpath, destroying anything that dared stand in his way.

They passed through the tall grass like a freight train before they stopped just as suddenly as they had started. Leonardo jolted, his mind still running seconds after his body had stopped. It took his eyes a moment to focus on the anomaly in front of them. Usagi was stopped and stiff as a board, while Nuriyuki still held his nose to the air trying to make sense of the scent coming from the creature.

Leonardo could finally smell it too, now. At first he thought the scent was Usagi, but the more he breathed it in, the more subtle differences he was met with. Usagi smelled of mud and berries and a variety of creatures he had encountered in the previous days; a nice smell, like dew in the morning! This scent was new, smelling sharply of preserves, but familiar in other ways; rabbit, all rabbit! Different rabbits all mixed into the same scent. That didn't make any sense though! The figure didn't look like a rabbit!

It looked like a lion!

[dismuch47]

STARTING POINT

Length: Longer than a drabble, but a one shot with no intention of continuing.

Marvel AU in which Vision (I’m calling him Paul) is the illegitimate child of Howard Stark. There are tensions between half-brothers, and this is the first time that they actually talk about something other than the strange family situation. And it happens to be about... a girl. I hope you enjoy.

This has been moved over from my deactivated blog, so no, this is not stolen if you recognize it.

“’Sup, nerd?” Tony let the door slam itself shut after flinging it open in a grand flourish. He flung his bag of dirty laundry on the mahogany dining table, let his leather jacket fall to the immaculately clean floor in a heap, and then trotted over to the kitchen fridge to excavate.

Paul shifted out of his cross-legged, curved shoulder posture (his studying posture) and sat up in a rigid manner. He placed his book on the cushion beside him, his lips in a thin line.

“Hilarious...considering your field of study in Quantum Mechanics and Theory, Anthony.” Paul called out for the other youth to hear. It wasn’t in his nature to give jabs to other people... but ever since Mr. Stark... or rather Paul’s biological father... had acknowledged the existence of a bastard son in England and the illegitimate child had been included into the multi-billionaire’s home at Mrs. Stark’s request... Paul had tried to rise to the challenge in order to “bond” with the golden son, Tony Stark. Apparently he only responded to sarcasm, rather than sincere attempts of friendship that Paul preferred.

Tony peeked his face from around the kitchen door, tilting the aviator sunglasses down from his face. “I study it, I don’t wear it. What is that, an argyle sweater vest?” His face disappeared once more as he grabbed one of his father’s choice beers from the fridge, closing the door shut with his hip.

“Mrs. Stark likes it...” Paul looked down placing a hand on the sweater vest. He didn’t dislike it... but he didn’t care for it. But anything was better then the second-hand clothing that was always too small for him back at the London shelter. And if it helped the mistress of this home approve of a bastard child more...

“Your mother will disapprove if she sees that rubbish on the dining table.” Paul warned his older half brother. He picked up his thick book and began reading again. “Why you insist on bringing that home when you can just-”

“Carmen. CARMEN will ‘disapprove’. I don’t think mother has done laundry or set a dinning table since her college days...” He slumped down in a white wing-backed chair across from the couch, separated by a glass coffee table. “Besides it’s all apart of the collegiate experience: announcing my arrival home with proof of my hard work and stank of my sheer brilliance.”

“Anthony, your father-”

“For the last time, it’s TONY.” He took off his sunglasses, his dark eyes like daggers at this blonde intruder of his home. He didn’t dislike Paul... he disliked how different Paul looked, sounded, and talked... forever reminding everyone in the household of his father’s infidelity. Of his mother’s pain... and tragic kindness for wanting this person to be part of the Stark family. The dark moment passed and Tony tossed his glasses carelessly to the glass table.

“...And dad can just deal with the mess.”

Paul’s blue eyes were cast downward, trying to resume his reading... recognizing the subtext of that wording, but Tony turned on the television to an outrageous volume, swallowed and sighed loudly over his beer.

“Tony-”

“Little brother, PLEASE.” Tony cut in. “Your bro is nursing a hangover at the moment.” He took another swig of beer. “Do you mind?”

There was no warmth in the word ‘brother’; it seemed more like a reminder that Paul was an outsider that Tony had to put up with. The lanky teenager began to slowly pack up his schoolwork, not feeling particularly welcome in the space...

Tony blinked darkly at the screen; images and colors barely managing to distract him from his mood... and guilt. He was mad at his father... not the accidental child resulting from unprotected sex. His brown eyes darted over to Paul, who was quietly collecting his things to leave.

“What are you reading?” Tony asked, monotone.

Paul blinked in surprise, then looked down at the book in his hand. “A Tale of Two Cities.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “This is why you are a nerd...”

“It is a school requirement.”

“Is it your first time reading it?” Tony raised a dark brow. “Or is it your 3rd or 4th time?”

Paul shut his mouth. It was his 5th. He couldn’t explain how it was that he was able to read so fast, or find a book so compelling upon a 5th or 6th reading. He traced his long fingers across the dog-eared pages.

“At the shelter, all I had was books. I...I like to revisit them...” He couldn’t meet the Stark’s brown eyes. “Like how Mrs. Stark likes to watch old movies over and over...she says they are ‘old friends’ that never change, but grow more enriching with each viewing.”

Tony looked down at the beer in his hand. That did sound like something his mother would say. He recalled her telling that to him. He also felt super awesome for reminding Paul about his life of poverty... which was still fresh. Tony turned off the tv.

“Fine. Books are the exception.” He finally looked over at Paul. “But you have GOT to get out of that gaming stuff if you ever want to get laid, Goggles.”

“Vision.”Paul corrected, a little too hastily. His hands held on to the book a little tighter. “It is live action role-play-”

“Oh my god, I can’t tell you how much I don’t care-”

“-And it is very therapeutic. It helps me get out the frustrations of being in a new home environment, learning American customs... feeling so different. According to Dr. Cho.” Paul defended, blossoming as he talked about this passion of his. “Vision is not just a character... he is an extension of my subconscious; trying to sort out and deal with my very average conflicts.”

“Yeah, that’s the ah...mutant...god... robot thing?” Tony asked, with a belch. Pretending to care was starting to give him a headache.

“Synthezoid.” Paul added.

“Right... with the magical jewel stone for... ultimate power?” Tony yawned

“Mind Stone.” Paul began realizing how stupid this all sounded. Tony had been present at the therapy session when Dr. Cho had explained how this experimental role play with peers might be good for Paul.

“Fascinating. I think I need to go whiz now.” Tony got up from his chair, setting the empty beer bottle, with out a coaster, on the glass table. “Well have fun with that sausage fest.”

“There are girls.” Paul blurted. “...A girl... there is one girl who does it too.”

Tony backed up, a bemused expression at Paul’s outburst. “I’m sure she’s a looker... geeking it up with the oily skinned, pimple-marked-”

“She is beautiful.” Paul’s tone took Tony aback; it sounded stoney firm and  indisputable. And Tony couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit emasculated with his younger half brother now towering above him.

“Prove it.” Tony beckoned.

Paul narrowed his eyes down Tony Stark, feeling it trivial to prove his truth... as if his best friend was some prized stock animal to be appraised. Tony didn’t deserve to gaze upon real beauty... but Paul was a teenage boy. And he wanted to make this college tech jock drool.

He sat down, pulling out his phone and searching for a picture of her. Tony plopped down beside him and yanked the phone out of his younger half-brother’s hands. Paul protested, reaching with his long arms, but Tony was athletic and broad. He put Paul in a headlock after a brief struggle, and scrolled through the pictures on the flip phone.

Tony gave a sigh at all the larp pictures... they were in COSTUMES. “Is that face paint? Really, Vision??? Oh my god, you are going to die a virgin...” Then he came across a larper who was entirely too hot to be hanging out with such nerds. “Whoa... whoooaaaa. Is that her?” Tony showed the screen to Paul, who was still gasping for air before pulling out of Tony’s lessening grasp.

“...Yes...” Paul tried to push his hair back into place.

“Name?”

“Scarlet Witch-”

“Her real name, idiot.”

“Wanda. Wanda Maximoff.”

“Russian? Like Natasha... oh what’s her name. You know, she’s a senior this year...”

“Wanda is from Sokovia.”

“Same difference.” Tony shrugged.

“Actually-”

“Which means she probably has one of those dusky european accents.” Tony stood up, looking at more pictures. “Please tell me she has a dusky accent.”

“...Yes.”

“Oh god.” Tony looked at the screen for a beat. “You’re sure she’s only in high school?”

Paul firmly took his phone back.

“Fine... too young for me. And way out of your league.”

Paul looked down at the screen. He knew that was true, but it didn’t hurt less to hear someone say it. “She is just a friend. My only friend.” He held on to the phone for a beat, then closed it. He returned it to his pocket and picked up his book that he had discarded on the table. His shoulders sagged, and the words on the page were blurring together. Completely unreadable.

Tony damned himself when he saw the effect that his teasing had on Paul. The oh so sensitive, yet robotic Paul. “Okay. I’m taking this away.” He took the book out of his half-brother’s hands and sat on the glass table, directly across from the tall teen. “You’re tall, you have a pensively sweet British accent, and some girls like the peach-fuzz stubble look. You just need to stop slouching, and you’d be any girl’s dream boat.”

Paul looked up. “You have said that I’m oafish, awkward, and that my dialect is ‘annoying as hell’.”

“I lied. It’s hard to compete with. I cut you down to make myself feel bigger. Thank you Dr. Cho.” That didn’t seem to make Paul feel better; he seemed to slump even more in his seat, eyes downcast at the floor. “What... what is this? I basically called you pretty and you're being a pooper. What’s  the problem?”

The blonde teen took a deep breath. “Steve Rogers.”

Tony blinked. “The star quarterback? The ruggedly handsome boy next door, class president, and so patriotic that he’s Captain America at all the Sunday Picnics? Sky-blue eyed, chiseled Adonis-bodied Steve Rogers? That Steve Rogers??”

Paul clenched his jaw and looked up at Tony.

“Oh man... good luck with that.” The Stark son gave Paul a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

Paul leaned back into the sofa, feeling defeated. He looked up at the ornate crown molding on the ceiling. “She does not talk about him all the time... but she stares at him constantly. She wants to take our roleplaying sessions out by the football field just so he can see her in her costume. She has even invited him to one... and he came. She only stayed by my side because she was too nervous to be alone with him. He smiles at her and I just... I...”

“Wait... so they haven’t hooked up?”

“...I do not believe so.”

“Has he told her he even likes her?”

“Yes... well... he told the group that he likes us and what we do. He’s actually really nice and great in battle, which is an absolute annoyance...”

Tony rolled his eyes. “And have you told her? How you feel about her?”

Paul looked down at Tony. He opened his mouth but closed it. He looked away, trying to find anything else to focus on, but Tony drumming his fingers against the glass table drew his attention.

“If I told her how I felt... and she did not feel the same...”

“Well Vision,” Tony said standing up with a stretch. “Don’t you at least agree it’s a good starting point?” He made his way to the kitchen to throw away his empty bottle.

Paul sat, thinking about all the scenarios in which he could get rejected by Miss Maximoff. But there was one hopeful scenario in which she, in her usual tender way, is caught off-guard. Her eyes would warm and a broad smile would light him on fire inside...as it always did.

“Perhaps.”

[sylvain-writes]

Guarded Hearts and Safe Houses (Leonardo x Reader) Chapter 4/9

Rated: T

Gender Neutral Reader, canon typical violence/injury, light angst, strangers to lovers, supportive family

for @melodiousmelodrama

The way to The Lair is wet and cold. You should have worn rain boots. You should have listened when Leo said they lived in the sewers. You thank god he meant the water runoff and not raw waste, though you can’t imagine the guys living in filth. They were well-mannered and hygienic, as far as their stay at the apartment let you see.

You hear the others before you see them. Loud, heavy sounds of concrete shifting and crumbling. Debris and broken furniture arc through the air as they're tossed from one pile to another. The routine kicks up dust, but does little to repair the home.

“Raph,” Donatello whispers and Mikey jogs toward the mess.

A slab of concrete flies Mikey’s way. “Watch it, bro. I’m too pretty to get busted. Don’t wanna mug like yours to scare off the honeys.”

Raph ignores his little brother’s jokes and tosses another slab with a grunt.

“Here, here, lemme help.” Mikey picks up a few stones and skips one across the floor into the concrete pile. “Little bit o’ brick over there… what’s this-” he lifts a shard of wood for inspection before lobbing it toward a different pile “-a little bit o’ table over there.” He gives his brother a wide, goofy smile, “How am I doin’ so far?”

Raph continues to ignore him.

“Come on, Raphie, this is pointless.”

“It ain’t pointless." Raphael can't look at any of them. He stares only at the rubble spilling into the tunnel. "This is our home. We gotta have a home.”

You take a step forward, careful to stay out of the path of flying debris. “You can stay with us. Until this place is safe. Or until you find somewhere new.”

“Ain’t nowhere new gonna take us." Raphael says, despite your claim. You understand he means long-term. And you know it's true. Even your parents can't house them forever. You can't expect them to sleep on the living room floor and be comfortable.

"...'sides," he grumbles, "Leo ain't leavin', I ain't leavin'."

Mikey picks up a bigger piece of mortared brick and heaves it into Raph's designated pile.

Donatello gives a deep sigh as he watches them give in to the fruitless work. "Let's find Leo," he says to you, not letting himself be defeated yet.

You find Leo in the dojo, kneeling in meditation before a felled tree. The flowering branches and wide trunk must have made a beautiful focal point for the room, before the trunk had been cleaved in two.

Though it goes against your instincts to bother Leo in this place, Donatello urges you onto the large straw mat.

A slow, quiet approach seems most appropriate, and you kneel beside him, mimicking his form. You're sure he's sensed your presence, but he doesn't say a word.

Leo's eyes are closed, his breathing even. It takes you a minute to notice the moisture gathering along the seam of his eyelids.

You wave Donatello off with the gentlest of smiles and wait until he is gone, until you and Leo are alone, before you reach out. You lay your hand atop Leo's as it rests on his knee and you keep it there when he doesn't protest or pull away.

His chest jumps as his breath hitches, but his tears don't fall. His eyes don't open. The only conscious movement he makes is to lift his thumb to hold your hand closer to his.

Pulling Raphael and Mikey away from the rubble isn’t so hard once they see Leo is walking with you. He still doesn’t speak, and no one has mentioned the absence of their father.

“You should grab what you need," you say to the group. "There’s only a few hours until the sun comes up.”

Raphael kicks at a stone and shrugs his shoulders forward. “Gonna leave somethin’ for Splinter, right, Donnie?”

“There’s a message for him," Donnie says, the computer keys clacking under his fingers. "He’ll have to use the emergency cypher, but he’ll know where we are. He’ll know we’re safe and accounted for.”

Mikey shifts his weight and looks up, his wide eyes hopeful. “Can I bring some stuff from my room?”

You nod. “Whatever you want.” You'd never keep him from bringing along a piece of home.

Beside you, Leo tenses, but remains silent.

Raphael and Mikey rush to their room, climbing over rubble and broken furniture to get there. Donatello gives you a short bow and a word of thanks. “We might be a while,” he warns.

You can’t help but yawn as you wave him off. “Go, go. Take as much time as you need.”

“They know the way,” Leo says, his first words of the night. “I can bring you home if you wish.”

You look at him, ready to protest, but see the stoic expression he wears is only a thin mask to hide his pain. “Thank you.”

Leo helps you over dangerous areas of the tunnels, more cautious with you than his brothers were. It’s equal parts irritating and sweet. You handled yourself just fine on the way in, but you let him take care of you like this. It seems like he needs to feel in control of something and this is a little thing you can give.

“You should have worn more practical footwear,” he says when he sees your water-logged sneakers.

“Next time." Gripping his hand, you let him haul you over a pile of rubble.

He catches you at the waist, holding you close for a second longer than necessary before easing you down the other side. “Won’t be a next time.” His words sound final. “I’ve been wanting to move the Lair for a while now. There’s a subway station…”

“Oh yeah?”

“It’s been abandoned for quite some time. I’ve had my eye on it. Didn’t want to move the guys because… well, because the sewers have been our home for as long as we can remember. But I should have acted sooner. I should have told them what I found. I could have avoided this whole-”

“Can I see?” you interrupt his self-depricating rant, knowing that to let him continue on that path wouldn’t do anyone any good. “The subway spot. If you think it’s safe. Can I see?”

Leo turns to face you, to really look at you for the first time since dinner, and offers a slow nod. “Ok.”

The station is a mess. Full of cobwebs and old crates. There’s an abandoned train still on the track. Most of the train's doors have been rusted open. The seat cushions are dry rotted and falling apart. But there’s promise. There are options. And when you turn to Leo, you can see hope.

“I think you should tell them about this place.”

Leo doesn’t argue. He wasn’t going to keep it a secret any longer. Especially not now, when they need this place more than ever.

“I can fix it up with you before you do, if you want. If you think it’ll help.”

Leo doesn’t say anything at that, but stacking old crates against a wall, so you follow his lead.

You leave the heaviest lifting for him, taking it upon yourself to clean out the cobwebs and clear off the platform.

The place will need furniture. And the guys could stand to tear out the train seats to fit each car with a bed and other things to make their rooms more liveable. But you can tell it’s going to be good. They could make it something great.

You look over the station with a feeling of accomplishment. Leo, however, isn’t yet satisfied.

He looks at his phone and swears under his breath. “It’s almost 5. I have to get you home.”

The news comes as a surprise. You didn’t realize you’d been working all night. Each crate stacked and cobweb swept clean had energized you. You’d felt a renewed sense of productivity, a sense of purpose. You were moving toward a tangible goal for the first time in a long time. This wasn’t the same old routine you’ve been walking through at your day job. This was building a new home for new friends.

You follow Leo through the path and up to a set of stairs to street level. There’s a small restaurant beside an alley.

“Won’t they see us? Hear us?” You glance around quickly to see if you've been spotted, but Leo leads you down the alley with an air of calm.

“Old man’s losing his hearing," he says. He makes giving you a boost to the restaurant's low roof look effortless. "His husband’s been bugging him to get hearing aids but he keeps pretending like he didn’t hear him make the suggestion.”

“Funny.”

Leo’s hard frown softens a moment, giving way to the briefest fond smile. “It’s cute.”

“You want that someday?”

“What, hearing aids?” Leo walks past you without giving you a chance to correct him.

You let him lead as your heart twists and sinks. Why had you asked? Even if he wanted love and companionship, they probably weren’t things a guy like him could have. Sure, he can charm the rings off Gram’s fingers. And anyone would admire the passion he has for taking care of his family. But he’s still a mutant turtle. One with rippling muscles and big, blue eyes, a husky voice, and a gentle touch. But, a turtle. Not many people would look past that. It’s likely Leo won’t let many people look past that, if he’d let people see him at all.

[sunflowersupremes]

Eyes Bigger than your Stomach

Read on AO3

Series: A/B/O Ficlets

Geralt wasn’t certain why the Omega was still following him. He kept expecting the man to leave, after they’d gotten out of Gullet where he was in imminent danger, but Dandelion had only continued to trail after him. Even in Posada, where they’d been captured by elves, he hadn’t once seemed to regret his decision to follow Geralt.

After their narrow escape, they found themselves in a small tavern at a nearby trading post, where Dandelion was more than happy to purchase a room for them both (since Geralt had given all of his coin to the elves). After their room was settled away for the night Geralt made his way upstairs to it, while Dandelion remained behind, playing his newest ballad for the tavern crowd.

The Witcher checked his weapons and potions, making certain that everything was in order and in its proper place, before digging into his meager supplies for something to eat.

“Ugh,” came a voice from the door. “You aren’t actually going to eat that, are you?” Dandelion, his lute thrown over one shoulder, was standing in the doorway with two plates of food in hand.

Geralt didn’t know what to say other than a weak thank you as the bard handed him one of the plates, then made himself at home on the floor in front of the fire. Geralt joined him after a moment, crouching down beside him as the bard unbuttoned his jacket, exposing the loose fitting chemise he wore underneath.

Geralt looked away before he was distracted by the scent glands on his shoulder, marked with a mess of healing bites that catalogued his previous lovers.

“Rations are fine and good on the road,” said Dandelion, slurping up his stew, “but when in town, it’s always preferable to get a warm, fresh meal, don’t you agree?”

The Witcher nodded, understanding that Dandelion didn’t really want him to speak. The Omega was still chattering on, passing on bits of gossip he’d picked up downstairs, even hinting that one of the locals claimed the next village over was having monster problems.

“Could be worth looking into,” muttered Geralt around a mouthful of stew.

Dandelion hummed happily, rolling his shoulders and yawning. He glanced around, as though looking for something to lean on, then choose Geralt, leaning his shoulder against Geralt’s side. The Witcher froze, barely remembering to breathe.

The scent of the Omega flooded his lungs, sweet like honey and flowers - cornflowers, he thought, and chamomile - and Geralt wondered if he ought to run. Did the man have any idea what he was doing? Dandelion barely knew him and yet he was cuddling up to him as though they were great pals.

Suddenly remembering his food, Geralt took a bite. Dandelion didn’t seem to have noticed his pause, too consumed in his own meal. He ripped up pieces of bread and dunked it into his bowl, then shoved them into his mouth. Slowly, his eyes meeting Geralt’s, he licked his fingers.

The Witcher looked away.

It was becoming increasingly obvious what the Omega wanted, and Geralt resisted the urge to pull away from him. It wasn’t that Geralt didn’t want him - you’d have to be blind not to realize how pretty he truly was, with his blonde curls and huge blue eyes - but he had a feeling that Dandelion had no idea what he was getting into.

They finished their meal in silence, and Dandelion gathered up the plates, carrying them back out of their room. When he returned he shrugged off his jacket, hanging it on a peg beside the door. “Here,” he said as Geralt tried not to openly gawk at his exposed skin. “You’ve got something on your cheek.” He reached out, no doubt intending to wipe away whatever was on Geralt’s face.

Geralt’s hand shot out and tightened around his wrist. “Don’t play coy, poetaster.”

“If you want me to stop,” Dandelion said quietly, “then all you have to do is tell me.”

He let go of Dandelion’s thin wrist, giving a slight shake of his head. “You don’t know what you’re proposing.”

“Sex, Geralt, I’m proposing sex.” Suddenly Dandelion was in his lap, giving him a wide eyed and innocent smile, the scent of arousal hanging heavily in the air around him. His hand, which had somehow escaped the Witcher’s grip, rubbed at the spot on his cheek. Geralt knew that he ought to push him away, but he couldn’t bring himself to.

But it seemed Dandelion had caught the unease in his eye, and he tilted his head, quietly asking, “Am I making you uncomfortable, Geralt?”

“No,” the Witcher admitted quietly, “But-”

“Oh I know what you’re about to say,” snorted the poet. “Something about how you’re inhuman, is that it?”

It should disturb him how easily Dandelion read him. “Is that your game, bard?” Geralt asked. “You want to know what it’s like to be fucked by a mutant?”

“Nonsense,” said Dandelion. “I find your personality charming and your voice pleasing. The scent of you is absolutely divine - what I can smell of it, under the scent of the road - and even your face isn’t as bad as I’m certain you believe it is.”

He didn’t seem to be lying, but Geralt was still uneasy. “I would hurt you,” he said quietly. “You-”

“Oh gods damn it, Geralt, is that it? You think I’m some delicate flower?”

Geralt tilted his head, unable to help the slightest of smiles. “Well, your name is Dandelion,” he pointed out. “And you are rather small.”

The Omega scowled. “I’m not delicate,” he sneered. “And I know you want me, as much as I want you, I saw your eyes on me.”

“It’s hard not to stare,” Geralt informed him bluntly, “as I’m certain that you’re aware.”

“I’m very aware of my own beauty, but I will accept further compliments at any time.”

Geralt snorted. Whats the harm? He wondered, tilting his head and studying his young companion. Perhaps getting what he want would teach Dandelion to think things through, make him realize that just because he wanted to bed someone didn’t make it a good idea.

Slowly he reached out and took Dandelion’s wrist, then moved to it hold over his own crotch. “Are you certain your eyes aren’t too big for your stomach, or, in this case, your ass?”

Dandelion’s eyes gleamed hungrily. Instead of responding verbally he groped Geralt’s cock, rubbing his fingers over the sensitive flesh. “I know exactly what I want.”

“Undress for me then,” said Geralt.

“No.” Dandelion hopped out of his lap and onto the bed, sprawling out on his back against the headboard. “But you can undress for me, if you’d like.”

Geralt stood slowly, turning to study the smirking Omega. He’s toying with me, Geralt realized. I- I believe he wants me to put him in his place, although I’m not certain he would mind if I didn’t.

Geralt’s experience with Omegas was extremely limited. There weren’t any Omega Witchers - they had stopped making Witchers long before the Omegas had gained any rights, when people still looked down on them - and Omega whores charged extra, so he usually went for Betas. But what he did know, was that Dandelion was unusually mouthy, even for Omegas of his age, born after the Omega rights movement.

The Omega watched him as he considered his next move, his cornflower blue eyes gleaming.

“Get up,” Geralt said quietly. “If I have to say it again…”

Dandelion leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “What?” he asked.

“I won’t fuck you.”

The bard’s mouth fell open. Clearly that wasn’t what he’d been expecting, but it prompted him into movement and he jumped off the bed, pulling at his chemise all the while muttering about rude and controlling Alphas.

Geralt felt himself smile as he sat on the edge of the bed, watching as the bard put his chemise aside and started working on his pants.

His mouth watered at the smell coming from Dandelion, the bard clearly having worked himself up into a strong arousal just from Geralt’s few words. Soon he was entirely naked, standing in front of Geralt with his hands on his hips, head cocked to the side.

“Go ahead,” he said cheerfully, “Admire, me, I know I’m quite the sight to behold.”

He was, if Geralt was honest. Slender and pale, with just enough fat to make it worth grabbing. Already half hard, his cock hung between his legs, larger than Geralt had expected from an Omega.

“Come here.”

Dandelion didn’t need to be told twice, launching himself at Geralt, landing in the Witcher’s lap and wrapping his legs around his waist. “You’re wearing too many clothes,” he complained, his fingers beginning to pull at the laces of Geralt’s breeches as he buried his face in his scent gland.

Geralt cupped his ass, feeling the slick that was dripping from him. Thankfully, he was spared from having to make any further decisions by Dandelion who began removing Geralt’s clothes for him, pushing the Witcher onto his back as he undressed him.

The Omega made quick work of his clothes, dropping them onto the floor. Then, once Geralt was naked, he lined himself up with his cock, but before he could drop himself down on him, Geralt grabbed him and rolled them both over, pinning Dandelion beneath him.

“I don’t need stretched!” the bard protested noisily as Geralt ran his hands between his legs, feeling at his hole. “Geralt-”

“We do this my way or not at all, Dandelion.”

Dandelion huffed and rolled his eyes, then lifted his legs, grabbing the backs of his knees to expose himself for Geralt. The Witcher slowly rubbed his finger over Dandelion’s dripping hole, then pressed it inside, pleased at the lack of resistance. He pressed in a finger from his other hand, then slowly pulled his fingers apart. Dandelion let out a long groan as Geralt opened him up, the noise turning frantic as he felt the Witcher’s hot breath on his opening.

“Oh gods,” he moaned as Geralt’s tongue licked inside him. “Oh- please-”

The whole inn was going to hear him if he kept it up. They’d already been stared at when they entered, a small, delicate looking Omega with a black eye alongside a surly Witcher, it wasn’t hard to imagine what people would think. “Quiet little Omega,” Geralt murmured.

“But-”

He could imagine Dandelion’s pout at denied.  “If you’re quiet, I’ll fuck you in the woods and you can make as much noise as you like.” Geralt wasn’t entirely certain why he was already offering the man more, when, in all honesty, he shouldn’t have let it get as far as it had gotten already. But Geralt would be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying himself. He buried his face between Dandelion’s legs, pressing kisses to his cock and balls, all the while continuing to finger his hole until the blanket beneath him was drenched in slick.

Only when he was confident that Dandelion was as loose as he was going to get did Geralt sit up.

“Oh finally,” moaned the bard. “Come on, Alpha, give me your cock.”

Geralt rolled Dandelion over, rubbing his back as the bard shivered with anticipation. Slowly he began to thrust his cock between the bard’s ass cheeks, drawing out a series of soft whimpers. “Geeeraaalt-”

“Hmm?”

“I want your knot,” said the Omega. “And I’m accustomed to getting what I want.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” warned Geralt. Dandelion was too small, slender and breakable. Geralt didn’t want to hurt him.

“I want-”

“No.”

Dandelion huffed. “Then you had better give me a good fuck, at least.”

Geralt grabbed Dandelion’s hips, pulling him back until his chest was flat on the bed, his ass elevated and half in the Witcher’s lap. For a long moment he kneaded Dandelion’s asscheeks, then slowly lifted his hips and pressed inside.

The bard let out a startled gasp that ended in a choking noise as his body struggled to accommodate Geralt’s girth. “By all the gods, you’re huge!”

Geralt stilled, rubbing his thumbs in small circles on Dandelion’s hips. “Are you alright?”

“Alright?” squeaked Dandelion. “You’re splitting me in half, Geralt, and it’s absolutely divine.”

Geralt shook his head. He began to slowly thrust in and out of the velvety heat, enjoying the soft whimpers it was pulling from the Omega (who had his face buried in the blankets to muffle any noises). It was clear the man was uncomfortable from Geralt’s size, particularly as his thrusts increased in speed and ferocity, but it didn’t seem to dampen his enthusiasm.

He leaned over and pressed his lips to Dandelion’s neck, licking at the scent gland on his neck, overlapping the healing marks from previous lovers. It made him feel at least a bit possessive to see all the marks, and his body craved adding his own.

Geralt ran his tongue over Dandelion’s neck, at the same time bringing a hand around to fondle the man’s cock.

“Bite me,” pleaded the bard. “Please, Geralt, bite me.”

It was impossible to refuse such a plea. Geralt sunk his teeth into Dandelion’s neck until he tasted blood. The bard muffed his sob of delight in the pillows, his ass clenching as he spilled over Geralt’s hand.

It seemed he really loved pain, and Geralt couldn’t help his own reaction to the man’s happiness.

His orgasm washed over him, nearly catching him off guard. In that moment there was nothing that his body wanted more than to pin Dandelion down and knot him, force his cum to remain inside him. Even if he couldn’t breed the poet, that didn’t mean he didn’t desperately want to try.

But remembering the pained noises Dandelion had already made, Geralt forced his body to relax, taking several deep breaths.

“Please knot me,” sobbed the Omega, wiggling in Geralt’s grasp. “Please, please, please, fill me up.”

Geralt rubbed his back, pulling out of Dandelion’s hole. “Next time,” he found himself saying. “Next time, I’ll knot you.”

“In the woods?” the bard asked hopefully. “So I can scream?”

Geralt snorted. “If you wish.”

[guardians-of-exo]

The War

Jongin - Log 16: Friend or foe

In a world still reeling after a near apocalyptic war, nine young mutants try to find their place to belong in a society that hates them.

Warnings: This will contain some violence and blood and such. People die, but no main characters die!

Tags: AU | Violence | Blood | Superpowers | Non-ship | Found family

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They were making camp for the night, having found a small village that had probably once been a bustling community of farmers but was now merely dust and ruins. The houses closest to the center had been reduced to nothing more than holes in the ground, while some of the houses furthest away were still somewhat standing structures.

A house with three walls still standing and an almost covered basement was the perfect place to sleep. One way in and only one place they had to keep lookout for. The spirit was high amongst the travelers. They were getting ever closer to their, hopefully, new home. Their food rations were thinning out, but even that wasn’t enough to bring down the mood.

And at the moment, Jongin was quite happy that they had chosen to sacrifice the space in one of their homemade sacks for blankets. As hot as the sun was during the day, as cold was the moon during the night. Jongin sat huddled up under a blanket with Chanyeol, who seemed to be freezing despite his affinity for fire. His arm was cold against Jongin’s where they were pressed together, and Jongin felt really bad for him.

They didn’t dare light a fire because of the smoke, but Chanyeol was only happy to warm their cans of soup with his hands, handing out the small cans of heat to grateful freezing hands and empty stomachs.

Baekhyun had remembered to pack their deck of worn playing cards, and even Junmyeon was well enough to participate in a highly competitive game of go fish.

It was taking them a bit longer to reach their destination than they had first hoped. Jongin had come to realize that despite no longer feeling pain, his body tired after hardly any physical activity. It seemed it was the same for Junmyeon, who, even though he always tried to hide it, had trouble breathing after walking for a short while.

Not wanting to be the only one to delay everyone, Jongin did his best to follow Junmyeon’s example and hide how his whole body shook with every step. At least he slept soundly every night, completely exhausted.

He could feel himself nodding off, the warmth of the soup spreading through his body lulling him to sleep.

One by one, they bid each other goodnight, and with a yawn, Jongdae offered to take first watch. Jongin was out like a light before Jongdae finished his sentence.

⌖

Jongin inhaled sharply as he was shaken awake by Chanyeol. Confused and disoriented, Jongin looked around. Everyone was awake, the moon bright enough for Jongin to see the scared faces around him. Cold washed over him in an instant, his heart hammering painfully against his ribs. And then he heard it – talking. From someone outside of their hideout. Footsteps. A lot of them. Someone kicking rocks as they walked, another shuffling their feet across the ground. How many were there?

A loud crash had Jongin jumping, gripping onto Chanyeol’s arm, his own fear reflected in Chanyeol’s eyes. They were close.

Everyone sat frozen, barely daring to breathe. Waiting.

  “If they see us, close your eyes and scatter,” Baekhyun hissed out between his teeth. “I’ll distract them for a couple of seconds.” He was staring determined up at the slice of sky visible to them from the basement.

It seemed everyone knew what Baekhyun was talking about, nodding in understanding, but Jongin was confused. He was about to ask when there was another crash even closer and he quickly shut his mouth.

A shadow appeared above them and Jongin held his breath. They were covered by the floor above them except right beneath the door where the floor had collapsed. Their only other escape was out the broken window just above Yixing. Hiding there had seemed such a good idea, but now they were cornered, it seemed reckless. If the soldier came any closer and looked down into the darkness, he would see them right away.

The soldier stepped into view, and Jongin saw the second they were noticed.

  “NOW!” Was Baekhyun’s only warning before the world around them exploded into light. Jongin’s eyes burned as he squeezed them shut, tears welling up from the pain.

He could hear everyone scrambling up around him. A flash of burning heat erupted right next to him, making him stumble back in shock only to run right into a wall of solid cold. He could hear someone yelling from above them, and then someone was pulling on his arm. Jongin’s eyes were still burning and he couldn’t see anything. It got harder to breathe, and he felt panic clawing at his chest. He wanted to curl up into a ball and disappear, but someone still had a tight hold on his arm.

Then he heard gunshots. Everything in his body shifted. He was falling endlessly and yet only for a second. And suddenly, everything around him went quiet.

He blinked furiously, trying to get rid of the spots in his vision when the grip on his arm loosened and he became aware that he hadn’t teleported alone.

Minseok fell to his knees, panting loudly as he retched. Jongin stared at him shocked. How had he taken Minseok with him? He had never been able to teleport with someone else before – he and Sehun had tried back when they were on their own.

  “What the fuck,” Minseok swore, wiping his mouth as he staggered to his feet.

  “I’m sorry,” Jongin whispered, realizing just what had happened. He had run away. Left them all behind. Forced Minseok to abandon his friends.

  “We need to go back!” Minseok said, voice breaking as he stumbled. Jongin remembered how he felt the first time he teleported; it wasn’t pleasant.

Looking around, Jongin realized they were still close to the village. A forest of dead trees surrounded them, casting eerie shadows across the barren ground. Voices rose from the village, loud and agitated and Jongin felt the panic creeping back. He wanted to go back and help but… what could he do but be in the way? He couldn’t fight and if he tried to teleport again, he would probably fail.

Minseok was already staggering back towards the village, but he stopped with a choked gasp, and Jongin spun around to see what was wrong.

A glowing red shock collar lit up the gaunt, ashen face of a young man. In the red light of the collar, he looked almost dead. Though he was in a Red Force uniform, he was unarmed and alone, staring at the two Gifted with wide, terrified eyes.

He opened his mouth as if he were about to shout, but Minseok quickly held up his hands. “No! Please,” he whispered, backing up towards Jongin again. “We won’t hurt you.”

The young man also stepped back, his eyes flickering between Minseok and Jongin.  The shock collar he wore around his neck was shining brightly in the darkness. Jongin had only ever heard of the collars being used on Gifted, so it meant that… But he was also in a Red Force uniform, could they trust him?

  “We need to go help our friends,” Minseok continued, reaching back to grab onto Jongin, ready to make a run for it should it be necessary. “Just pretend you didn’t see us. Please.”

Jongin reluctantly let Minseok pull him away, neither of them looking away from the Gifted. The young man barely moved as they walked past him, his eyes following them like he was waiting for them to jump him. The further they got away, the more he started shifting around uncomfortably.

  “Jongin, come on,” Minseok mumbled, clearly not trusting the stranger to just let them walk away. But something in Jongin was telling him to stay. The strange Gifted looked so conflicted, and why was he out there alone? What if he had tried to run away? Maybe his powers could even help them save the others.

  “You go, I’ll only be in the way,” Jongin said, pulling his hand away from Minseok. “I don’t think he’s one of them.”

Minseok shook his head, but the look in Jongin’s eyes must have been determined enough for him to know that Jongin would not be moving until he had at least tried.

  “Be careful!” Minseok ordered, giving Jongin’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. He then hurried off into the darkness towards the village. For a second, Jongin wanted to follow him, feeling terrible for letting him go back alone. But his powers wouldn’t be helpful to them in any way, and he would only be a source of worry. The boy in front of him was someone Jongin might actually be able to help.

The two of them had probably gone through the same trauma at the hands of the Red Force, had suffered in the same ways. If the Gifted in front of him had been treated as Jongin had, there was no way he had joined out of anything but fear.

  “I know someone who can take that off, if you want,” he tried, taking a small step closer to the stranger. “He did it for me. All of them back there saved me from the Red Force. We can help you.”

The young man stepped back, holding out his hand to keep Jongin away, and for a second, Jongin could have sworn he felt the ground trembling.

  “You’re one of us, right?” Jongin continued, keeping his voice steady though he felt like running. The Gifted in front of him was tensed up, eyes wide and wild like a cornered animal. If he lashed out, Jongin couldn’t defend himself. But Jongin didn’t want to leave him. That could have been Jongin standing there, had he not been rescued. Had it been him, Jongin would have been scared and confused.

  “How?” the whispered word was barely audible over the sounds of the battle from the ruined village, and Jongin first thought he could have imagined it. But the words that followed were much clearer. “They’ll kill me. I let you go, and they kill me.”

Jongin shook his head. “We won’t let them. We’ve fought them before and won.” The fact that it had been more because of luck rather than actual skill was something the scared stranger didn’t have to know. Jongin didn’t want to think about it. He had to trust that his friends would be okay this time too. They had to be.

What sounded like an explosion shook the ground, and the night was briefly lit up by an orange glow as a pillar of fire rose up from the village. Seconds later, another explosion hit, this one much closer. Jongin was so focused on the fire that he didn’t see the figures running straight at him in the dark, until Jongdae was right in front of him, face and clothes covered in soot.

  “Move!” he screamed, nearly showing Jongin over to get him to run.

Jongin searched the dark frantically for the stranger as he was pushed through the trees, catching glimpses of the red light between the trunks. A third explosion lit up the night once again, the silhouette of the stranger dark in front of the flames. He was standing there, watching them all run away, and Jongin wanted to go back and drag him with them, but Jongdae was not letting him go. Jongin didn’t want to risk the lives of his friends again, so he kept going. He had tried but there hadn’t been enough time.

The glowing red shock collar was swallowed up by the darkness behind them. The stranger was gone.    

[tmntgirlie]

Saviors in a Half Shell 4

Ah, the plan. The plan to help Y/N, the plan specifically created and constructed to assist Y/N. The Y/N Plan.

Splinter was, as usual, the first to wake up.

He loved his sons dearly, but he also loved the quiet he had when he woke up before them. Once at least one was awake, he knew he would be forced to socialize, step into his fatherly role (not that he didn’t love it, but everybody needs a break from time to time), give advice that only a rat father could. Especially right now, he knew that all four of his sons were nervous about their roles. It was warranted.

It was the ripe time of almost noon. He decided it was about time to make his first cup of tea for the day. Tea was always a pleasant beginning.

As the kettle began to head up, he heard a rustling near the doorway. “Leonardo, you’re awake early-” he began to say, but stopped when he saw who it really was.

Y/N stood, rubbing her eyes. Her hair was a little bit all over the place, something dark shaded under her eyes. “I’m so sorry, what was your name again?”

“You may call me Splinter, my dear. What are you doing up so early?” he asked warily.

“I don’t usually sleep this late,” the girl said, covering her mouth when she yawned. “I’ll take it that last night wasn’t really a dream.”

Splinter quietly added a little more water and tea leaves to the kettle. “You would be correct. Did you sleep well?”

“For someone that doesn’t like sleeping anywhere but my own bed, I’d say so.” She gave him a small smile. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“Welcoming me into your home,” Y/N said with a shrug. “A stranger, giving me a safe place to sleep.”

“We help those who are in need of help,” he told her, leaning against the makeshift countertop. “You were not in a good place last night. Would you agree?”

Y/N nodded silently.

“I won’t pry into your personal health,” he said. “But I’d like you to know that we can be here for you if you want us. My sons aren’t like anybody else. They may be rough around the edges, but they have good hearts. They want to help you just like I do.”

He poured two cups of tea and gestured for them to continue their conversation elsewhere. She followed him down a few more narrow hallways, carefully holding her cup to keep it from spilling. He pushed back a few curtains to reveal a greenhouse of sorts. It was warm, the air was moist, and the room was filled with potted plants, flowers, and what she thought were herbs of sorts.

“It’s amazing,” she said quietly. “I never thought these kinds of things were even possible down here. You live down here. It’s amazing.”

“We made do with what is available to us,” Splinter said with a small smile. “This is all we have ever known.”

“How did you- you know, come to be?” Y/N asked.

The question he was waiting for.

“As you probably could have guessed,” he chuckled. “We aren’t your typical rat and turtles. Years ago, we were subjects in an experiment to create a substance that could withstand a harsh environment.” He spared her the nitty gritty details, it was likely too early for that.

“One night, a fire erupted in the lab. We managed to escape, though at the time we were still seen as the ordinary rat and four turtles. As years went by, we grew into what we are. It has been twenty-two long years. I took the role as both father and master of the turtles. It wasn’t easy, but it needed to be done.”

“That’s amazing,” she repeated, a little more enthusiastic this time. “You could write a book about this.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “I’m afraid not. You see, we aren’t accepted by the general population of this city. A select few humans have actually had the pleasure of seeing us for who we are and not what we look like. You are now one of them.” Splinter carefully sat his cup of tea down on a bare crate. He picked up a watering can and began to get to work.

“Need any help?”

“I enjoy doing this myself, but the company is appreciated. If you have any more questions, I’m sure my sons would be happy to explain their life stories to you.”

Y/N searched her mind for their names. It had been so late, the events of the night prior were blurry. She remembered their faces. Each wore a different colored mask. They were all so different, so unique- what were their names?

“Dad, I can’t find-” A voice rang through the greenhouse-room. She instantly recognized it, the first voice she heard. The first one she remembered.

Y/N turned to see who she instantly recognized as Leonardo, Leo. It had just dawned on her that their names were in reference to Renaissance painters. She’d have to ask about that later.

The turtle stopped. “Oh. There you are.”

She waved awkwardly. “Here I am.” She gave him a small smile.

Yeah, okay. These guys were freakishly huge turtles. Who were extremely muscular, bore weapons draped over their shells and at their sides. Sure. But they were her rescuers. She was comfortable with using that word now.

Leonardo noticeably relaxed. “You’re up early.”

“It’s almost noon. I usually wake up before eight,” she said. “...Thank you.”

He tilted his head. “What?”

“Thank you. For last night. I know it was… Not the greatest way to meet you guys, or for you to meet me.” Her gaze shifted down to her feet. “I just have some… Issues. That I need to work through.”

Leonardo turned to his father, who only nodded before going back to watering his plants. He wondered what all was said before he got there.

This wasn’t technically part of the plan, but this was a good start nonetheless.

“The other’s won’t be up for a while still. I’m heading to the dojo for my morning meditations.”

“You even have a dojo?” She couldn’t hide the surprise in her voice if she tried. Mutant turtles that meditate. That live in the sewers, that drink tea (at least one of them), that like Thai food, video games, and who knows what else.

Leonardo held back a chuckle as he gestured back towards the doorway. “You can join me, if you’d like.”

Y/N quickly shook her head. “I don’t even know how to meditate.”

“We all start somewhere. Are you coming?”

It was hard to say no.

Leonardo positioned her at the opposite end of the dojo as him. He gave her a few quick pointers to get her started before he sat down and shut his eyes.

Y/N watched him for a moment before she did the same. His words echoed in her head, so few instructions but so many at the same time.

Count your breaths.

In one, out two, all the way to ten and start again.

Let your mind feel what it needs to feel. Don’t let it engulf you, but allow yourself to feel.

When your mind wanders too far, start at one again. In. Out.

To think that she thought she was good at taking instruction.

In, one.

Two, out.

As she counted up, she could feel a metaphorical weight lift from her shoulders. She could hear Leonardo’s breathing in the corner, though it was soft. She felt his presence.

Shit, did I leave the tea in the greenhouse?

Back to one. Out, two.

Y/N could feel the darkness in her mind. She allowed herself to feel it, welcoming it as a friend as opposed to an intruder. It was part of her, her own way of feeling.

Out, six.

Meditation wasn’t something she thought of to do. Her life was too busy for something like that, she thought. Those minutes could be better spent elsewhere.

Maybe it was time to slow down.

Alright, back to one now.

Time became an afterthought. When she finally opened her eyes, Leonardo was beginning to stand. He reached his arms up, then held them behind his back in a stretch. She swore she could hear some joints popping.

Y/N slowly got to her feet, reaching her arms up towards the ceiling. Where she could see Leo could easily touch the ceiling, her arms were feet away from it. At least she knew she would never bump her head here.

Not that that was a general worry of hers. Not many walls were only five-foot something.

“That was nice,” she said, breaking the silence. “Do you do this every morning?” She recalled when he had said ‘morning meditations’.

“Every morning when I wake up. It helps clear my head and get me ready for the day,” Leonardo told her with a nod. “I’ll do it before nightfall if I need to as well.”

“A healthy habit,” she mused. “The others don’t join you?”

Leonardo gave her a shrug in response. “Sometimes. They’d prefer the extra sleep. Honestly, they could do with a little more meditation.”

“I definitely feel more ready for the day. Or breakfast at least.” As if on cue, her stomach began to growl.

He laughed. “Come on, let’s get you some breakfast.

“How long did we go, anyway?”

“Thirty minutes. You beat Mikey’s record.”

A small feat, she told herself. Mikey did not seem like one to keep still for that long.

Y/N should have referred to their meal as ‘lunch’, especially considering the time. She thought this as they passed through another corridor, one that was a little smellier than the rest. She did applaud them for keeping the place smelling less like sewer than it actually was. Did turtles have a sense of smell?

“So, you meditate. Do your brothers have any habits or hobbies?”

“Raphael does the most physical training,” Leo said, pointing to a door at the end of the hallway. “Weight training, boxing, you name it. Donnie keeps to his science-y stuff. He’s good with technology and chemistry, that pretty much covers most of his free time. Mikey… He has trouble focusing on one thing.”

“Shocking.”

He laughed. “He’s gotten better, more tolerable to live with. He’s not allowed near Donnie’s things anymore, though.”

Y/N stopped walking and crossed her arms over her chest. “Now you have to tell me this story.”

Leo was amazed. She had a completely different presence to her now than the night before. She was sarcastic, she was witty. He could tell she chose her words carefully, but when she looked at him, it wasn’t with the usual disgust or fear. It was with amazement, intrigue.

Strange human.

The tale began of how Mikey had accidentally caused a bad chemical reaction in Donatello’s lab area. It wasn’t a small sort of reaction- in fact, it ended up ruining most of Donnie’s equipment. He refused to speak to him for days as he tried to both fix and replace what had been lost. Y/N made a mental note to ask how they got equipment like that in the first place.

By the time Leo had no more to say, they were settled at the table in the kitchen with some food. He had made up a couple dozen sandwiches with various meats and toppings, all with cheese. When he set the platters down at the table, he paused. “I didn’t ask you what you wanted, did I?”

“I’m not that picky,” she assured him. “You probably need to explain what all these are, though.”

She picked a simple turkey sandwich after an entire speech ensued about each sandwich. They liked variety. As she took a bite, she smirked. “I had no idea turtles ate meat. Good to know.”

“Not sure if you’ve picked up on this yet, but we’re not your run-of-the-mill turtles.”

Oh, she definitely had.

[twiistedgalaxies]

Genesis: Chapter 11: The Search

How two brothers can take two opposite paths. How a man can be made into a monster and how the other must pay the ultimate price to save everything he knows and loves.

Or, alternatively:

The origins of All for One and One for All.

Previous Chapter

First Chapter

      “Where were you?” Tomura asked stiffly, knees drawn into his chest and back resting against the metallic back-bars of the bed. He held onto his own legs like a life-line. His steel gaze was on Hisashi, but he knew his eyes were distant. Relentless agony over several days does that to a person.

      “I got you your medicine,” Hisashi said awkwardly, depositing the crinkly prescription bag at the foot of the bed.

      Tomura was unimpressed, “Where’d you get the money?”

      His brother blinked, “I had some stashed away in case of an emergency, with how ill you’ve been I figured now would be the best time to use it,” he scratched the back of his neck in a pale imitation of nervousness, “it took a while to get your prescription filled, sorry.”

      A bitter taste flooded Tomura’s mouth. Contrary to popular belief, he wasn’t stupid, he knew his brother was probably lying to him. Before the incident with Bruce, he would have overlooked it, overjoyed that he’d get some relief from his own body. But after seeing the preeteen’s whimpering, curled form, he knew it had to stop before someone else got hurt. Hisashi looked like a mess, far more than he should have for a simple trip to CVS. His curly white hair stuck up in odd places, soot clung to his left cheek, and a nasty looking cut was crusting on his forehead. Even worse, one of his jacket sleeves was completely missing.

      “What happened?” Tomura asked, yawn drawn out of him, chronic illness wearing him thin. It was a lucky thing that most of the kids and staff were preoccupied with class, otherwise he wouldn’t have been the sole witness to his older brother crawling through the church window like a home invader.

      “I got mugged,” Hisashi said smoothly, “With how hard it is to get medicine these days, someone probably saw me leaving the pharmacy. I fended them off of course, but they got a few lucky hits in.”

      Tomura had seen his sibling fight before. No one ever got in lucky hits. “Why do you keep lying to me?”

      The teen had the audacity to look puzzled, tilting his head to the side like a kicked puppy - a strange look on someone so tall and gangly, “I’m not lying to you ‘mura, do you really not trust me? After all I’ve done for you?”

      He was too tired and sick for this shit. Tomura laid on his side and pulled the thin, cotton blanket over his head. Footsteps echoed through the room as Hisashi migrated to his own bed and rummaged through his things. He knew he should be grateful, but not knowing what his brother was up to, the terrible things that could be happening under the teen’s veneer of protectiveness, made him ill. At these thoughts, Tomura felt a pang of guilt in his chest. He pulled the blanket tighter around his body.

      Hisashi sighed, “At least take the medicine I got for you. I hate seeing you like this.”

      “Fine,” Tomura grumbled, poking his head out from under the covers.

      “So you can be reasonable!” Hisashi tried to tease as he measured out his brother’s dose. Tomura scowled, feeling his nose scrunch up as if he smelled something rotten.

      “Oh don’t be like that,” Hisashi huffed, “I even got you your favorite drink, see?” The teen held out a strawberry Ramune soda. Tomura perked up at that, but quickly reigned himself in. He was still angry at his brother. 

      The bed creaked as Hisashi sat down at Tomura’s side and passed him the medicine and soda bottle. The preteen stared at the beverage for a moment, before trying, and failing, to open it. Damn EDS, this wasn’t worth another dislocation. Hisashi must have noticed his struggling, because he quickly snatched the bottle from his hands and easily popped the marble inwards. The teen handed him back the drink and ruffled his hair. 

      Tomura popped the pill in his mouth and swallowed it with one gulp of his soda, wincing at the carbonation but still savoring the sweet taste. “I didn’t know they had these at CVS,” he said.

      “I was surprised to see them too, I guess the pharmacy has gotten a lot more cultured,” Hisashi replied with a quirk of his lips.

      They fell into an uneasy silence, Tomura gazed into his bubbly pink drink, not wanting to look at his older brother. His left hand wandered to one of the many raw patches that had bloomed on his skin over the past week. What on Earth had his brother gotten himself involved in?

      “Are you mad at me?” Hisashi asked, Tomura didn’t need to look up to see the frown coloring his voice. Yes. He was angry, angry that his brother couldn’t trust him enough to tell him what was going on, angry that he was always kept in the dark, sheltered from what was going happening until it leaped up and punched him in the face. The anger was a simmering, burbling thing, caged in the space between his ribs and diaphragm. His grip on the Ramune tightened, knuckles white.

      Tomura swallowed, “Go get changed, you look homeless.”

                                                -@~*^*~@-

      The rest of the day was spent with Tomura staring up at the ceiling, and reading the few comics he owned for the dozenth time. He was bored. Hearing Hisashi get berated by the matron for sneaking out didn’t really count for entertainment. Even though he was irritated at his older brother’s deceit, he still didn’t want him to suffer. Belatedly, he realized that because Hisashi had been given intensive cleaning duty for the next week, his brother would spend his own birthday cleaning out the kitchen’s drip pans.

      Tomura turned onto his side. The medication helped. A lot. He was still in pain, obviously, and whenever he sat up too quickly he was overwhelmed with dizziness, but it was better than hurting so much he couldn’t think. Or a violent cacophony of color sparking under his eyelids when he was hit with another wave of anguish. Yay chronic pain. The church bells rang, signalling the end of the school day and causing Tomura to wince at the loud noise. It didn’t take long for his peers to flood into the room. His bed creaked as two people sat at his side. He fluttered open his eyelids.

      “Hey,” he croaked, greeting two of his friends. He noticed the tense look on their faces and felt his eyebrows knit together. Something was wrong, “Where’s Emrik?”

      Finn and Jonah exchanged glances. Finn turned a dull gray-blue, “We don’t know, he’s been missing all day. We tried to ask Mr. Stewart where he was but couldn’t get any answers.”

      Jonah harshly gripped Tomura’s bunched up bed sheets, “The matron said he got adopted, but that’s crap. No one wants to adopt us.”

      Tomura swallowed, he could see why. Mutants weren’t exactly popular right now. He was surprised that they were even able to talk to Mr. Stewart, he usually avoided the defective like a plague. “I could try to help look for him,” he suggested.

      Finn raised an eyebrow, turning yellow with surprise, “Absolutely not, especially with how sick you’ve been the past several days.”

      “I’m feeling better today!” Tomura protested, “Hisashi got me some medicine and I can probably at least walk. I have my braces.”

      His friends looked at eachother again, having a silent conversation. He really wished they’d stop doing that. “Fine,” Jonah conceded, “But we’re staying with you. If you get hurt your brother is going to kill us.”

      Finn shuddered, “Definitely would kill us.”

      “When’s the last time you guys saw him?” Tomura asked.

      The duo seemed to mull it over for a second, “When we were playing Sorry! last night,” Jonah answered, “I remember whooping his ass at the game.” Tomura felt a pang of jealousy at being excluded but shoved it down, now was not the time.

      “I think I saw him when we were heading to bed, he seemed to fall asleep with the rest of us,” Finn said, hand on his chin, eyes pointed upwards.

      “So he must have disappeared this morning or last night,” Tomura finished for them, “Hisashi was out late last night, I’ll have to ask him if he saw anything.”

      “What was he doing, by the way?” Finn asked, “The matron was ripping him a new one at lunch, I think the people all the way down in Mexico could hear her.”

      Tomura rolled his eyes, “Apparently he was out getting me my medicine and got mugged.” Jonah shot him a disbelieving look. In a silent reply he shrugged, making a ‘what can you do?’ gesture. Tomura sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, biting the inside of his cheek as his body screamed in protest, “Just let me get dressed and get my joint braces on and we can head out.”

      “Sounds good to me,” Jonah replied, “just try not to die on your way to the bathroom. I’ll pin the blame on Finn of course, but-”

      “Hey!” Finn yelped, indignant, before lightly smacking his friend on the shoulder. This escalated into playful roughhousing as Tomura got up.

                                                -@~*^*~@-

      The trio spent the rest of the afternoon combing the once-church grounds, only resting when they had dinner, and immediately setting out to search again. The sun was setting when Tomura was looking up into the bell tower’s scaffolding, which was cast into a beautiful orange glow.

      “This is a terrible idea,” Finn said, nervously hugging his arms to his chest.They were on the second floor, which housed the staff. It was normally barred to the orphans, and almost every room was locked. Tomura was surprised they were able to get up the stairs in the first place.

      “Shut up Finn,” snarked Jonah.

      “What if the matron catches us? Or worse-”

      Tomura scanned the scaffolding, he felt a smile on his face, “I think I know how to get up there.”

      “You mean how I’ll get there,” Jonah replied.

      Tomura ignored him and moved a potted plant off of a table that had been pushed against the wall. He reached up for the first part of the scaffolding, testing to see if it would hold his weight. It probably would. Probably.

      “We don’t even know if he’s up there!” Finn protested, face pinched with worry.

      “Well,” Tomura started, “I don’t think he’s up there either, but maybe going up somewhere high will help us see something we wouldn’t from the ground. I saw it in a comic book once.”

      Jonah rolled his eyes, “Just try not to hit the bells, we don’t need all of LA coming down on our heads,” he paused, “Besides, I want to go up after you.”

      “You’re both being stupid,” Finn hissed, reddening as he did so, “What if you fall?”

      Tomura shrugged, “It’s not that high up.” Finn looked like he wanted to scream. 

      He began to climb up the bleach-white scaffolding, pausing whenever it gave a dangerous creak. A grunt slipped out of his mouth when he leaned on his arm wrong, sending pain shooting through his body. It nearly caused him to slip, but luckily he was able to regain his balance. Finally, after what felt like ages, he reached the top and propped himself up on the opening, legs dangling out over the slanted roof.

      “Wow,” Tomura breathed. It was beautiful. The rolling, golden hills of Los Angeles gleamed with the light of dusk. Distant car lights filled the main roads, making them look like gleaming candy canes. The various graffitied factories that filled their little industrial district bellowed black fog from their smokestacks that wrapped and joined together in the sky. The golden hour cast everything in shades of pinks, yellow, and red, and he found himself unable to take it all in, even though their neighborhood was far from photogenic.

      So absorbed was he in the view that he nearly fell off of the ledge when Jonah called up to him, “Do you see anything up there ‘mura?”

      Oh, right. He was supposed to be looking for clues. His dark eyes scanned the area around the orphanage grounds. Tomura frowned. “I don’t see anything weird!” he called.

      “Well then let me-”

      “Actually,” He said, cutting Jonah off, “I think I see a cleaning company van parked on the side of the road, you think Matron Abra is finally cleaning this place up? I’ve started naming the cockroaches that live in our room.”

      “Ew,” Finn blanched.

      “That doesn’t help us find Emrik,” Jonah huffed, “Now climb down from there, I want to see.”

      Tomura made his way down, feeling his stomach drop when he saw just how far up he climbed. Oops. No wonder Finn was so worried. His feet landed on the carpeted floor with a soft thud. Wordlessly, Jonah began to climb up the scaffolding, taking a slightly different route than he did.

      “What was it like up there?” Finn asked, his voice a low whisper.

      “It was nice,” Tomura replied, “Are you sure you don’t want to go up there next?”

      Finn shook his head, “I’ll leave the climbing to you guys, I’ve never liked heights.”

      “Yeah, I don’t see anything,” Jonah called down to them, “I thought you were just blind but I guess this is a dead end.”

      “Where do you think Emrik could have gone?” Tomura whispered to Finn.

      “I don’t know,” the boy replied, “Maybe he really did get adopted.”

      Jonah climbed down to the floor besides them, “No idea, but if he did get adopted I doubt they were doing it for good reasons. Maybe it was the man the Matron has us see sometimes?”

      Tomura tilted his head, giving the reptilian a quizzical look, “What man?”

      Finn blinked with surprise, “You guys don’t see him too? Must be a mutant thing.”

      Jonah gave him the side eye, “Anyways, whenever we’ve been acting up too much the matron has us see some man in a lab coat for a check up and to run some weird tests. It’s nothing really crazy, just uncomfortable.-”

      The boys froze as the stairs creaked behind them. Jonah quietly swore.

      “Run?” Finn whispered.

      “Run.” Jonah agreed.

      The trio fled down the hall and shoved themselves into a dark janitor’s closet. It smelled terrible, like excrement mingled with barely used cleaner. Jonah and Finn quietly bickered and Tomura shushed them as footsteps tapped down the hallway towards the preteens. Panic seized his throat as he remembered the potted plant abandoned on the hall floor. A click of porcelain on wood. 

      “Well that’s odd,” he heard the matron murmur. “Is anyone there?” she called.

      Tomura tightly gripped one of his friends’ hands. They were clammy with sweat. The floorboards creaked as she paced up and down the hall, doors clicking and groaning as she looked in various rooms. Silently, he prayed that she wouldn’t check the closet, that she would just pass them by. She stopped in front of the door, heeled shoes casting shadows through the sliver of light underneath it. His heart dropped in his stomach as the doorbell slowly turned. This is it, he thought, this is the moment we’re completely screwed.

      The church bells rang, signalling curfew. The matron walked away from the janitor’s closet and went down the stairs, probably to corral the other orphans. Tomura let out a sigh of relief.

      “I told you so,” Finn muttered, though it came out as more of a whimper. Jonah thwacked him upside the head, causing him to squeak with surprise.

A/N:

Unfortunately, it looks like Tumblr’s new post editor (that’s currently in Beta) might have a character limit added to text posts. Hopefully that’s not carried over onto the final release, but if it is chapters posted on here will just be AO3 links. Until then, I’ll just do what I’ve been doing! I almost didn't put a chapter out today, but I managed to get everything finished in the knick of time, thankfully. I might (?) take a week long break because school is burning me out, but it depends on how I'm feeling. Zoom University is exhausting, lmao. As always, feedback is appreciated! 

AO3

[beetlegoose01]

Frostbite Chapter 4- Broken Promises

AN: Happy Friday everyone! I hope you all enjoy Chapter 4. :D

Previous Chapter: https://pepperimps01.tumblr.com/post/646112113682710528/frostbite-recovery-chapter-3

Summary: Casey and Donnie struggle with their feelings. Leo reunites with the new mutant, and finds more info about them.

~~~

Casey grunted and grumbled as he wandered downstairs, still in his pajamas. Predictably dad wasn't in the kitchen, so he fixed himself and Riley a bowl of cornflakes. Dad was rarely ever at home, usually cruising through different bars to stay occupied, so Casey had to step up.  He wasn't really a cook, not that he would have time to make a meal.

"Riley, breakfast!" He hollered, running his hand through his messy curls.

The chipper girl skipped down the steps two at a time. She plopped down, inhaling her cornflakes like she hadn't eaten in days. She was already dressed in a blouse and skirt, the uniform required at her middle school.

Casey joined her, eating his cereal a bit slower as he fixed his hair. Not that he cared too much about his appearance.

"You know a comb would be more effective." Riley teased, mouthful of milk and cereal. "Something really weird happened last night. I almost thought it was a dream but it couldn't be."

Casey raised an eyebrow.

"I ordered food from Murakami's. I was so hungry, you know."  She continued. "And I walked home with my noodles and these assholes started attacking me."

Casey dropped his spoon so loudly it made a clanging noise. "What? Did they hurt you?"

She scoffed. "No, that's the best part. Sure, I was holding my own, but this guy with his sick karate moves saved me! And Sparky too! My pet racoon."

He wanted to tell her that a raccoon didn't qualify as a pet, and heck, he didn't even see the little rodent, but he was too concerned about his sister's wellbeing. "You're lying. You just did your homework last night."

"Except you know I never do my homework." Riley said snarkily. "No...he was really nice. Actually he was a bit strange. Donatello was his name." She perked up. "You wouldn't believe what he-"

"Shut up Ri, stop talking nonsense." Casey rolled his eyes. "Get ready for school. April's walkin' with us today."

"But he-"

"Riley!"

Riley frowned, slumping over, but complying as she grabbed her backpack moodily.

He chewed at his lip. He knew he was being a total jerk, but he also wanted his sister to just be lying. She was known to tell tales but he hated being so dismissive. He'd have to ask later.

After getting dressed and actually combing through his hair, he heard a knock at the door.

"I'll get it!" Riley shouted, clumsily leaping over a bookbag, nearly crashing into the wall as she ran towards the front door. "Hi April!"

"Hiya Riley," The redhead said. "You guys ready to go?"

"I am. Yo Casey, are you?"

"Yep." He grabbed his bag.

"Let's go then."

The trio headed out the door, Riley chattering mindlessly about something.

"I'm gonna stay late today." She said. "Baseball practice."

"Baseball?" April looked at her quizzically. "I thought you played hockey."

"I play both. Duh." Riley rolled her eyes, avoiding a crack in the sidewalk. "I'm the best player on the team, even though I'm the only girl. Hockey..." She cringed. "I prefer to watch, I think." She stopped, crouching down to watch a raccoon scurry through some trash.

"Come on Riley, we're gonna be late." Casey said.

"But he's so cute." Riley cooed. "I missed you Sparky!"

"How do you even know that's the same possum?"

"Racoon. And I just know." She scratched his furry head. The creature's big black eyes widened, accepting the pets happily.

"Ugh, no, he could have diseases or rabies or something-" Casey grabbed her by the backpack straps and pulled her away. Ignoring his sister's struggles, he looked at April: "Did you do Ms. Thompson's homework?"

"Yes, last night." She hummed, glancing back at him. "No, you can't copy it."

"Damn. Can you help me with it?"

April chuckled. "Sure thing."

"You're the best, Red."

She smiled, taking his hand in hers. "I've missed you, Casey."

"I've missed you too."

"Guys!" Riley interrupted. "Stop ogling and take me to school already!"

They blushed, April easily slipping her hand back in her pocket as if nothing had happened between them.

Thankfully, her school was just around the corner, giving him and April plenty of time to talk on their way to the high school.

"So...Red," Casey said, fixing his hair self consciously. "There's a new Beetlewoman movie comin' out on Friday."

April nodded. "There is."

"I heard it's even better than the last one."

She hummed. "I heard that too."

"Do you wanna go with me?"

"Are you asking me on a date?" She asked bluntly.

"That depends, are you gonna say yes?"

April stared at him for a moment, contemplating her answer carefully.

"It's a no, isn't it?" He sighed, defeated. "I could have sworn this would be the day."

"Jones," She said firmly. "Casey, you know I like you a lot."

"I have an annoying feeling that there's gonna be a 'but' somewhere..."

"But, I need to focus on myself right now. Dating is just another thing to worry about. My life is crazy enough." She laughed weakly. "You do know I like you and Donnie, right?"

Casey made a face. "What does this have to do with Donnie?"

"Everything." She looked away wistfully. "You'll figure it out eventually."

"Whatever you say, Red. Come on, the bell's about to ring."

~•~

Peace and quiet was all Donatello craved. The brief moments of silence he received when working on a project were always savored. Even as a curious little tot, he loved blissful quiet. Which was difficult when living in the same sewers as three other rambunctious turtles- but he made do.

Hunched over his desk, he carefully followed the instructions written down. Deja vu was a common occurrence now, and it certainly didn't help with the gelatinous blob form of Timothy watching him work.

"Don't worry Tim," He said through a yawn. "I won't rest until you're cured, buddy."

The floating eyeballs blinked back at him. Looking at him too long was sure to make anyone squeamish, but Donnie could only feel guilt and pity.

"Nothing will stop me from-"

"Yo D!"

Donnie massaged his temples, recognizing the voice immediately. For once, he wished it was Mikey who had interrupted his work.

"Don't you have school?"

"What are you, my mom?" Casey scoffed. "Nah, school's out." He flopped onto the lab table, sitting directly on Donnie's notes.

"What do you want now, Jones?"  He still couldn't forget his brother's teasing, and he wasn't looking forward to dealing with his own feelings. If they caught him talking with Jones, there was no doubt they would make fun of him.

"Oh, nothing." Casey took a seat on the table. "Check it." He slid a disc towards Donnie, who examined it. He couldn't believe what he was looking at- and that it was real.

"No. Way." He breathed. "The Electric Skullz's Dynamite album?"  He had to bite his tongue in order to prevent himself from squealing.

Casey grinned. "You know it." He placed his hands in his lap, thinking. "I figured we could...listen to it sometime. Together! Since we both like it." He paused, scrunching his face. "Stupid idea, probably."

Donnie's features softened. This kid...he did something nice for him. He didn't have to, but he did. And Donnie was touched. But also midly infuriated. How dare Jones make it so difficult to hate him?

"It's not stupid.. That's what friends do, don't they? Listen to music together?"

Friends...it sounded weird out loud. Not that either teen disliked it.

Casey raised an eyebrow. "Wait...we're friends?"

Donnie shrugged. "I don't know. But arguing is exhausting. And you had a point. We both love this band, so why not?"

"Sounds good to me."

Donnie eagerly popped the disc into his homemade music player, turning the volume up. Timothy pitifully stared through the glass container, as if he wanted to jam too.

"Listen Don, I meant to, well," He rubbed the back of his neck. "Talk to you as well."

Donnie stopped the music abruptly. He glanced at Casey, who looked uncomfortable. "Yeah?"

"Oh- er- uh." This was proving to be more difficult as he stared at the tall turtle's mahogany brown eyes. "I don't hate you."

"Thank...you?"

"No, wait. I feel like we got off on the wrong foot. Ever since we've met. But I don't want to fight anymore. I like talking to you about music. You're kinda cool."

Donnie didn't say anything.

"Red doesn't want us to fight. And if you do care about her like I know you do, then you'd respect what she wants. Right?"

"Yes, I agree. The trouble is..." Donnie looked down guiltily. "I don't know what I feel. About us." He gestured at himself, then at Casey.

"You don't have any answers?"

"No. For once, I don't."

Casey exhaled. "I don't either."

Donnie hummed, waiting for anything to ease the awkwardness. Before he had a chance to return to his work, Casey spoke up again. 

"My sister said something weird." He rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably.

"Oh?"

"She said some guy named Donatello saved her from some creeps. Is that true? Or was she just makin' stuff up?"

Donnie paused, a small smile revealing. He looked as if he was debating if he should tell Casey or not. "She wasn't. I did, though I didn't know she was your sister at the time." Donnie replied honestly. "Riley, right?"

"She didn't mention you were a turtle though." He joked.

"She didn't seem to mind."

"Guess those things don't really matter, huh? It's all about...what's in there." He patted Donnie's scratched up plasteron. Brown eyes met darker brown, and he backed up slowly, unsure if he should move closer. "Sorry. But thanks for helping her. She means everything to me. I'm sure you know how that feels."

Donnie's breath was caught in his throat. He gulped.  "I...of course."

"Oh shoot." Casey checked his phone as if nothing had happened. "Sorry dude, I promised Raph I'd ride bikes with him. Catch ya later?"

"Yeah!" His voice cracked. "I'd love that."

As Casey left with a cheeky grin and wave, Donnie felt a sinking feeling in his stomach.

He glanced at the jar of guts that once resembled another teenaged boy. "Tim, I think I'm in trouble."

~•~

That sinking feeling in his stomach didn't leave even hours later. Donnie had tried to push it off, move forward and continue like normal. It wasn't even a big deal. He saved Casey's sister, and that was that. He would have saved any other human just the same. Then why did he feel so weird? He wouldn't lie, he wondered how Casey would react if he knew. Would he be proud of him? Maybe their friendship could expand and their infamous rivalry could finally end.

They had more in common than either boy had realized. They enjoyed the same music and food at least, and according to 'bro code' that's all one needed in a friendship. They did have fun bonding over the Electric Skullz...

But then there was April. She clearly didn't seem enthusiastic in dating either of them. Donnie's pursuit of the beautiful redhead seemed to lose interest as time went on. Each look she gave him was not one of admiration, but of pity. He still liked her a lot though.

'I don't have a chance with her.'

Did Casey? Casey had the added benefit of being human. But he was also charming, handsome, had curious chocolate brown eyes and...and...

A really cute smile with little dimples on each cheek. And confidence to boot, something Donnie had always secretly admired.

Donnie rolled over in back, staring at the wall. What was he even saying? Casey wasn't...he didn't.

'Don't think that. You're not gay. You like April. You like April. You like April.'

He heard Raphael's voice in his mind. 'Who are you even trying to convince? Me, or yourself?'

Who was he trying to convince?

He slid out of bed as quietly as possible. He wasn't going to get any sleep at this rate.  Might as well work on the retromutagen and get his mind off Casey for once.  And it would be less of a time waster than staring at the ceiling and tossing and turning.

'Casey's still human, you know.' The little voice reminded him as he stepped out of his room, blinking blearily. 'You've got the same chance of impressing him as you do April.'

"I know." He muttered under his breath, this time aloud. "I don't like him like that. He's just a friend. I think?"

If he was human, he wouldn't have this problem. Maybe he could have dated them both. Though even for humans that was considered taboo.

He shook his head, glancing at the lab clock. 3:32am. No point in going back to sleep. His laptop had been left open too from a few hours ago. He sighed, typing into his old friend Google what exactly his feelings were.

Article after article, the only sound being the ticking clock, he found his answer. But not in the way he expected.

What is...bisexuality?

Hamato Donatello knew a lot of things. But one thing he was always going to struggle with- was romance. The best course of action was to simply avoid these emotions and put them off until he couldn't take it anymore.. Little did he know, he wasn't the only turtle struggling. His hand stopped moving the mouse, hearing shuffling noises from outside. He came to recognize each individual footsteps his brothers and father made. Mikey usually had a bounce in his step, Raph dragged his feet or stomped about. Splinter's paws were very quiet and had his tail dragging behind him. But these steps were nearly silent, as if he was standing on his tip toes, eager to not wake the remaining members of his family.

"Leo?" He uttered, careful to keep his voice low. He didn't need to turn around, he knew exactly who it was.

But when he saw the distraught, bloodshot eyes of his oldest brother, he moved closer. Leo flinched.

"Leo?" He repeated. "Why are you awake?"

"I couldn't sleep." His voice sounded hoarse. "And you?"

"Same as you, I guess." Donnie quickly slammed his laptop shut. "You look exhausted."

"I can't stop thinking about her." Leo murmured, nearly inaudible.

"Her?" Donnie stared blankly, wondering if Leo was sleepwalking and somehow stumbled inside the lab. "Karai?"

He shook his head. "Sorry, I'm talking nonsense aren't I?"

"A little bit, yeah."

Leo chuckled softly, then turned somber. "I was thinking about the mutant. I'm worried. I mean, she could cause some serious destruction."

Donnie's eyes widened in realization. "You were going to try to find it...her, weren't you? That's why you're wandering around at 4am."

Leo didn't answer. He didn't have to. His eyes told Donnie everything.

"You're dead on your feet. You definitely shouldn't go searching for a deranged mutant when you can barely stand. And alone, of all the crazy things. Come on, Leo, let's go back to sleep."

Surprisingly, Leonardo agreed, as if Donnie was the older sibling and not the other way around. "You're right. I don't know what I was thinking. But you should sleep too."

Donnie relaxed, grateful that there wasn't an argument involved. "I think I will."

"I'll walk with you to your room."

"And you promise you'll go to bed?"

"I promise." Leo vowed, leading the way back to their individual rooms.

Donnie slipped inside his room, practically melting into his bed, exhausted. His eyes fluttered close.

"Oyasumi." His brother whispered.

"Hai, oyasumi." He mumbled under the blankets, instantly comforted.

"See you in the morning, brother." Leo tucked him in gently. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

And for the first time in his life, Leo had broken a promise to his brother.

~•~

The moonlight glowed over the cityscape. Leo tumbled to the ground of the rooftops, checking the area, knowingly being followed. He wasn't afraid, but he knew he had to keep alert. This enemy was unknown, and if he made one false error, he couldn't rely on his brothers for help. Each sense perked up anxiously, waiting for any sign of attack.

Another movement came from behind. He stopped abruptly, skidding to a halt.

"Show yourself." He commanded, one katana raised high, its brother still in its holder.

"Oh, but that would make things less fun..."

Leonardo turned around fiercely. "Every moment you hide in the shadows you only prove your cowardice."

"Cowardice? We'll see about that. You're the one who's afraid."

"I'm not afraid." He said defiantly.

"You soon will be..."

And then it crawled forward. Slowly, claws stepped towards him, revealing the hidden mutant reptile that resembled a crocodile. Her voice, though menacing, still had a feminine tone that made his heart race. Her body was a beautiful emerald green, with piercing gold eyes and cream undertones. She flicked her long, thick tail back, fangs curling into a sinister smirk. Though she was bigger than he was, he wasn't about to show any sign of fear. She then circled him like a predator with her prey. Though he had dealt with much deadlier villains, he still felt uneasy. 

"Miss me?" She snarled. "It's been a while."

Leo narrowed his eyes. He recognized her of course, though they had never spoken. Their last fight had ended less than pleasant. Both he and Mikey had to make a hasty retreat. Leo had regretted it ever since.

"I don't think I ever caught your name." He growled. "If you have one."

"I didn't throw it." She said, then relented. "Nova."

"What are you?"

She licked her lips. "The last thing you see before you die. The banter was cute, sugar, but I'm hungry. That's all I need."

Beyond her wild eyes was a look of fear, and true hunger. She wasn't lying, she looked as though she hadn't eaten in days.

"Nova please. I'm- I'm Leonardo."

She pounced forward, pinning the turtle to the ground. "So long, Leonardo."

"I don't want to hurt you." He wheezed.

"What a shame, because I so want to hurt you. Your pathetic attempt at kindness only shows how weak you truly are."

"Nova..."

With his free leg, Leo kicked his shin upwards to hit her underbelly. She yelped, falling backwards. Her malnourishment was proof she needed help. But clearly she didn't want any.

"So much for not hurting me." She spat, acid leaving her lips and barely avoiding Leo's toes as he lept away. When she moved closer towards him, he softened slightly. He avoided staring at her shark like teeth.

He held out a hand. "I meant what I said. I can help you. Food, shelter, a chance to be with other mutants. I don't want to fight you."

For a brief moment, she looked as if she was going to comply, even eagerly with his convincing tone. Her muzzle grazed his cheek, vulnerability clear in her gold eyes. Then she turned away viciously, reconsidering.

"I don't want anything to do with you, Leonardo. Any hope of happiness is finished., My humanity is gone. I'm a freak, like you." She spat. "I had everything. Fame, fortune, my beauty..." Her claws extended. "All of it is gone."

He shook his head. "No it isn't. There is still hope. I promise, I'll help you."

She rolled her eye slits. "How very noble of you." Her tongue slid out, resembling two separated spiky parts.

"It's not just about being noble. It's about doing what's right." Leo held out his hand once more, echoing the wisdom of Captain Ryan. "Are you willing, Nova?"

"I..."

Snapping her jaws back, she raised a claw to swipe at him. He flinched, waiting for a swift but agonizing feeling. But nothing happened. She had moved away. He didn't even need to draw his swords.

"That's your answer. See you soon...sugar." She hissed, disappearing into the shadows once more.

"Wait!" He cried. But she was gone.

[just-another-wasteland-merc]

Can’t Sleep?

My last submission for @fluffyfebruary is here. I do plan on doing the rest of them, or maybe even expanding/editing on a couple before I post them on AO3, but I will announce when I add them! 

Anyway, here you are! I was pretty excited to write this, and I hope you love it too. Does it hint to the future? Yep! Enjoy! :D

Cold. Mac knew this feeling well, but he wasn’t as used to it anymore in bed. His hand touched the corners of his eyes, almost pinching the bridge of his nose, then felt around on the other side of the bed. He expected Em, his tiny space heater, to be there. Even if she rolled away from him in her sleep, knowing she was there would be enough for him, and he could sneak himself over to her side and spoon her to get warmer, then head back to sleep. But he blinked a few times as he figured out that she wasn’t in bed at all, feeling around the covered mattress and only getting blankets in an answer instead.

He slowly propped himself onto his elbow, checking down the hall. Maybe his body just timed it, and he woke up when she was getting water, or heading to the bathroom. He waited for a minute, listening. Once his eyes focused more, he saw a soft and steady glow from down the hall. He sighed, pulling back the covers and got out of bed, shuffling through stiff joints and whacking his shin on the corner of the bed frame because he cut the corner too short for what felt like the millionth time. Whispering a curse, he gave a half step to the right as he very briefly considered setting the frame on fire in the morning in retaliation for another new bruise. Mac glanced down at the Pip-Boy steadily glowing light blue as he passed by Em’s side of the bed before heading out into the hall.

2:07. Christ, he thought. At least it’s not four-thirty in the friggin’ morning. 

Mac made sure to poke his head into his kids’ room, making sure both Duncan and Katherine were asleep before he went to find his wife. He heard a soft, lower-pitched whine from the same direction as the light. Mac sighed. Dogmeat was with her, and Mac was grateful that she wasn't technically alone. He watched the small scene before him, waiting to enter the room as he observed them. 

Em was seated on the couch next to the lit lamp, idly petting Dogmeat's head as he rested it on her thighs, staring at her and making the low-pitched whine once more, as if communicating to her through the small noise. She stroked the fur, sometimes using her nails gently to give him a new pattern. Dogmeat spotted Mac, and his tail wagged a couple of times. The motion alerted Em as she looked over her shoulder. 

"Hey," she murmured. "Thought you were asleep."

"Bed got cold," he said tiredly. "Wondered where you were." He came around and sat down next to her. Dogmeat's tail wagged harder and more enthusiastically as Mac joined them. "You alright?"

"Mhm. Couldn't sleep."

"Something eating at you?"

She met his eyes slowly, almost nervous to look at him. Em leaned into his touch when he moved some of her hair away from her face, but she remained quiet for a moment. The only answer he received for his question was a small nod, so small he almost missed it. He took her hand in his, gently interlacing their fingers.

"Tell me how to help," he murmured. "Tell me what's bothering you." 

"This isn't bothering me, but it's something I've wondered." She fell quiet for a moment. "It's not what's actually keeping me up, so please don't worry about that."

He nodded, listening as his thumb softly stroked her finger, back and forth. 

"Before you continue," he interrupted, "what is keeping you up?"

"I don't know, I just can't sleep."

"Okay. Sorry, please go on."

She took a slightly shaky breath, and squeezed his hand. She smiled slightly when she got a squeeze in return almost immediately. 

"At some point… I'd like to go home. To… to the Midwest."

He certainly hadn't considered this. He was expecting the suggestion of another kid, or to step down as the Minutemen General, but leaving the Commonwealth? It was a curveball to him. He knew she wasn't originally from Boston, and he was glad because neither was he. He thought for a moment. How long had it taken him to get from DC to Boston? At least a week, one-way, and that was taking weather, super mutants, raiders, and every nasty, hostile animal he had encountered into consideration. He wondered how long it would take them to get to the Midwest, with two kids and a dog. He wasn't worried about Dogmeat in the slightest the longer he thought about it- he was a good dog and was an added protection factor for Duncan and Katherine. Hell, he watches over them as he sleeps. Mac was definitely not worried anymore.

He blinked, and saw her eyes were wide as she watched for his reaction. How long had he thought about it? Say something, he thought. You're scaring her. 

"I wasn't expecting you to say that, " he finally said. "Honestly, I thought you were gonna say something else, but.. hm." 

She nodded, letting him continue. 

"I don't know about… when." He shook his head, still tired and not able to form a coherent thought enough to string the right words together. "When do you want to go?"

"Not for a while. At least until Katherine is older and can handle the journey without us carrying her."

He nodded, yawning. "You have this planned out, I see." He smiled when she nodded again. "Alright. I'm open to the idea, but let's talk about this another time, okay? It's two in the morning, and we need to go back to bed."

"You promise we can talk about this?"

He kissed the back of her hand as he still held it, smiling a little wider at her. "Absolutely. But come on. Back to bed."

Mac waited until Em turned out the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. Dogmeat flicked his tongue out, catching Em and Mac's intertwined fingers in a lick before he led the pair down the hall. He received pats from both of them as a gift, then they watched in the moonlight as the dog went into the kids' room, walked in a small circle a couple of times on the rug, and settled himself down, facing the door. He set his head down on the floor, watching Em and Mac, then the hallway.

Smirking at how protective Dogmeat is with their children, Mac gently pulled Em into their bedroom by the hand, then pulled back the covers on her side of the bed. A second, small kiss to the hand he still lovingly held in his, he knew he had to let her go so he could get himself into bed. 

"Wait," she whispered. 

"It's only for a moment." He smiled at her. "Then I'm all yours."

Em's shoulders seemed to slump a little, but she smiled softly at him and crawled into bed. She heard him make his way to the other side, then a thump, followed by a curse. 

"What did you hit this time?" she asked.

"My knee," he grunted.

She sighed, but smiled anyway as the mattress dipped when Mac added his weight to the bed. His voice fell to a whisper as he let out a sigh of relaxation. 

"Okay, I'm ready. Come here."

Em chuckled, scooting towards the middle of the bed to him, orienting herself in relation to both him and the bed as she felt for him. She felt his hands touch her, guiding her head to his chest, and Mac quietly chuckled as once she had something familiar, the rest of her curled up to him, and he felt the weight of her arm across his waist and the pleasant warmth of her next to him. She sighed, comfortable. 

"You okay?" he asked. 

"Mhm."

"Comfy?" His thumb touched her cheek, and swept it across her cheekbone and down her jaw. He felt her stir in his arms, and his hand on her back soothingly rubbed small circles into the fabric of her tank. 

"Very…" Her voice sounded distant, as if already almost asleep. She moved, reaching up to softly kiss him. She shifted up further, resting her head more on his shoulder and letting her forehead touch his cheek. 

He lazily smiled, knowing she couldn't see. Mac adjusted his hold to better accommodate her, and gave a few-second-long kiss on her forehead. 

"Love you, angel," he whispered. 

"Love you too," she replied. 

The circles on her back continued as he laid there. He was so used to falling asleep after her, and tonight was no different. He listened for her breath to slow, and for her arm to slacken. When he gave one more kiss to her forehead, he knew she was asleep when he didn't feel her cheeks move in a smile. 

He closed his eyes, his head sinking further into the pillow, resting his cheek against the top of her head. Soft snores soon filled the room, and Mac's hand finally came to rest for the night.

[moonbelt]

»the moon, the sun

↳ ex-best-friends to lovers au | college athletes au

pairing » jeon jungkook | reader

genre » big angst + fluff + sexual themes

word count » 11.770

» there’s not a single thing you like about jungkook. no. not his jokes or his thinly veiled overwatch obsession or his supreme swimmers body. absolutely nothing. there is, however, a multitude of things you hate. wait, sorry that was rude, vehemently despise is better. 

 » mutual pining that could've been resolved if either of them exercised some basic communication skills lol, mild coarse language, lots of angst, cocky jjk but also crack jjk??, gamer memes, poufy haired jjk, also supposed hate-love relationship. 

YOU ARRIVE AT THE SWIM CENTER WITH A THROB in your knee and a resounding ache in your head. It felt like your brain was about to explode into a thousand gory pieces as you pushed open the wide frost-tinted glass double doors that led to the locker rooms.

Now that would have been a great start to a low-budget horror flick. You could just picture it, a lonesome girl? No… Woman? At twenty, you weren’t sure if you still qualified as a girl but the term woman felt too formal, too stifling, too mature to be attributed to you. But whatever, that was semantics you could spare for another day.

So, there you’d be; creeping into a university swim center at the ass-crack of dawn and then bam! Your brain impedes on itself. Maybe it’s because of some mutant phenomenal viral disease, maybe it’s repercussions from tempering with a portal to the paranormal realm that only exists in semi-open pool arenas. Whatever it was, it would have to be epic and a far cry from the truth. Which was, you were used to indescribable, continuous pain. It came with the territory of being an athlete. If you didn’t wake up in the morning with some part of your body feeling uncomfortably off then that just meant you didn’t try as hard the day before. Or at the very least, that’s what you told yourself to keep going.

Yawning, you punched in your locker code and began the mental and physical process of getting ready for the next three hours of practice before break. You usually where the first one in the building and the last one to leave if you didn’t have classes or work.

Swimming made you feel good, made you feel like there was something special about yourself. It didn’t help that the more you practiced, the more you were able to outpace everyone else. Practice birthed results and your stubbornness, wait no, competitiveness was off the charts. So, of course, you wanted to dominate every single athlete in your division.

Still though, waking up at four in the morning had to be the singular dumbest thought you’d ever conceived.

Once you were suited up, you padded back into the arena that held the huge industrial sized swim pool. The overpowering smell of chlorine and humid air made you feel more at home than the dormitory you’d just left less than thirty minutes ago. You honestly might’ve started crying right then and there at the sight of the crystal clear water and the humongous life-sized painting of an unknown swimmer in the midst of a beautiful breaststroke at the center of it all.

Today was after all the first day of the semester. Your collegiate swimming career was finally back on. Your lips twinged at the sight of the polished, tiled floor and how it felt cool under the soles of your feet.

You’d gone back home for winter break and although you’d kept up with the training regime your coach had persistently emailed out, there was just something fundamentally different about being back on your own turf. In fact, you were fairly sure a few tears slipped past your barriers and hooked at the corners of your eyes at the thought. Only to be blasted into near oblivion by the sound of a phone camera going snap snap.

You whipped your head to the direction of the camera like a person possessed. “What the fuck?”

“Oh, My Zelda. This is glorious.” The goddamn stalker, wait he wasn’t a stalker if he was a member of the swim team. Right, the goddamn fiend had the guts and audacity to say with an open-mouthed grin marring his face. “You’re actually crying. There are literally tears in your eyes. I can see ‘em.”

“Screw off, Jeon.”

Him. The only other person dumb enough to be at the swimming center at five am. A full hour before the scheduled practice time. God, how long had he been watching you? And to think he even had time to whip out his phone and document this moment. You were never gonna live it down, that was for sure. You? Crying? Over – you took a grand look around your surroundings – water?

“It was only three weeks, you know. You wouldn’t die if you didn’t swim for a month or two.” He still found the whole scenario funny, if the laughter in his voice was any indication.

“Coming from someone that I doubt showers even once every three days? Yeah, I’ll pass on that lecture.”

“Ooh, a solid burn from the Ice Queen,” he clutched a hand to his chest like he’d been shot with a bazooka or something. Dramatic. “That one hurts my ego immensely.”

You snorted. It was debatable if anything could seriously damage Jeon Jungkook’s ego. That shit was built with solid uranium. No matter how you tried to smash it. He was his own number one supporter and he’d built himself up in his head that he was the greatest at whatever he laid his hands on. At that moment, however, you wanted to snatch the iPhone out of those deft hands of his and dig a well through his head with it. Couldn’t he go be great somewhere else?

Instead of replying and subsequently dragging out this conversation longer than necessary, you busied yourself with adjusting your swim cap and bringing your goggles to rest on the bridge of your nose.

It didn’t matter that Jungkook was here. It didn’t bother you one bit. It’s not like it was abnormal. You’d known him longer than you’d known anybody so of course you were used to his presence. Although you didn’t particularly like the fact that you’d known him almost your whole life. Or the fact that your body prickled with awareness every time he stepped into the nearest vicinity. You couldn’t control that. What you could control though, was how you felt about it.

And right now, you hated him. Wait, no hate was too strong a word, perhaps vehemently despise was more fitting.

You make your way to lane five, take a deep breath to calm your nerves and then dunk yourself into the ice cold water. Better to get it over with than squirm around the edges with him around. For Zelda’s sake, he has his phone camera on standby!

Yeah okay, you didn’t hate Jeon Jungkook; the son of a family friend that lived on the other side of the cul de sac. Instead, you vehemently despised the boy that was a walking, talking human critic. You bite your lip ferociously in a bid to punish the thought of Jungkook out of your mind. After a second or maybe three, you push into the water.

“Your shoulders look tense from up here... you’re so not gonna perform well if you don’t stretch that baby out.”

That’s the first thing you hear other than the rushing of water leaving your ears as your face breaks out against the surface of the pool. You jerk your goggles off your eyes, look up and scowl at him. Mr. I-Should-Basically-Be-A-Coach-With-All-These-Pointers-I-Give.

“I am not tense.”

“Yeah, no. You don’t have to lie about that. I could legit see your muscles almost cramping up down there.”

“Are you really going to stand up there and pretend we have some kind of mentor-mentee relationship going on? Seriously? It’s five in the morning, Jeon.”

You could clearly see the wheels in his head turning and then zeroing in on the one word you shouldn’t have said. Relationship. Gah, you need a chastity belt for your lips. His eyes basically sparkle with rays of mischief and a dash of mastered superiority. “Well, I am seven months older, so when you think about it that way it’s only natural that I take you under my wing and —”

“I swear to you, I will physically break your knee caps —”

“Wait,” he looks genuinely confused, perfect lips pouting. “What do you mean by physically? Is there any other way to break a knee?”

Ugh! You stare at him and he stares right back, cocking his head to the side like he can do this all day. You want to scream, hell maybe even shapeshift into a fucking banshee and scream the roof off this building.

And then his mouth curves into a roguish smirk. The type he reveals when he manages to squeak by a better time than you or like that one time (okay maybe five?) that he got randomly stopped by some modeling agency recruiter when your parents had forced the two of you to carpool to swim meets back when you were a tad younger and he was the only one with a car. The smirk that just screams ‘I’m getting under your skin, aren’t I? And dude, it feels fan-fucking-tastic.’

“Get a life, Jeon. Or better yet, get in the water. It’s only been three weeks, no way you suck even worse than usual after that. I mean, by fuck, it hasn’t even been a month!” You twist his words back at him and then feel proud about it. So what, you are competitive and you hold grudges. There could be worse things.

His smirk deepened and okay, you won’t lie to yourself. He is attractive. Critically so. It would be hard not to notice that. It’s a continual and conscious effort to even attempt to un-notice it. But still, moments like these when the fluorescent lights beamed on his face at just the right angle and the shadows cut across his features and illuminated his golden skin to the heavens, boosting his overall aura like he was some sort of reincarnated god of beauty. Or worse, a Final Boss that you had to most certainly defeat. It became increasingly hard not to notice how much he affected you and your breathing.

Yeah, it’s in these moments that your better judgement faults and for a split second you are transported to that one November night in the middle of eleventh grade when fuck no! Absolutely not! You refuse to walk that horrendous trip down memory lane and relive one of the most humiliating, and this is coming from a girl that threw up because of nerves in front of judges at a talent show, experiences of your life. This was not the time.

“Your shoulders are still stiff as a board. Tell me, child, have you gotten laid recently?”

You let out the most frustrated sound of agony you could muster. You’re going to murder him. Forget you being the star in some crazy horror film, you were going to be the director. And you were gonna serve up a mean case of Deck Jungkook’s Ass With Supernatural Intervention as the main course. Maybe you’d win an Oscar for it. Heck, maybe you’d get a home run and even win Best Picture.

He chuckles like he’s cracked the greatest joke since Netflix Original Films. You’re too busy orchestrating a slugfest in your head to really pay attention. “I’ll take that as a negative.”

You barely manage to spit out a dignified response. “One of these days I’m going to seriously maim you.”

“Tsk tsk, you and your threatening bodily harm tendencies. I wonder if that’s like a kink thing?” He asks as he taps his chin with his forefinger and squats down to a level that is closer to you. His dark brown hair that looks almost a shade of black sways like a river to his beat. This is much better, it hurt your neck staring up at him like he was some guardian deity.

But the action happens to highlight the ridiculous tightening of his abs. The abs you’ve painstakingly not ogled at because they are sculpted beauties. Hell, you’ve yet to meet a swimmer's body that isn’t the epitome of fitness but Jungkook’s is different. He is carved. Probably why you don’t like looking at it, stare too much and he might notice and of course, you wouldn’t want that happening.

“Jeon?”

“Hmm?” He sounds so innocent. The liar.

“Shut up before I drown you. I don’t care how long you can hold your breath. I will send you down to hell personally.”

He wiggled his eyebrows like the concept of hell was all he’d ever wanted to discuss in life. “Does that mean you’d be coming with? Fascinating. Let’s make a road trip out of it. Maybe you’ll even find some demons down to fuck all that tension out of your body. You know, DDTF. Get your exophilia on, if that’s your thing.”

Exo-what?

Beat. He’s beaten you at your own game. How the heck are you supposed to reply something snarky when all he ever does is blow the thing to epic proportions and have you running in circles. This is why the best strategy was just to simply ignore him.

You shoot him one last look that you hope is as menacing as it ought to be. You yank your goggles from resting on your forehead and dunk them in the water to get the fog out. Placing it back gingerly across your eyes, you let take in a soothing breath.

“I am serene. I am calm. There is nothing around me in existence that bothers me. I am the pinnacle of collected.” You refrain from adding tense-free.

There’s no way you’re tense after running the three and a half miles between your dorm and the swim center. You repeat the words aloud twice before you actually believe them. And then you tear back into the water. You still have roughly thirty minutes before the rest of the team comes in for practice. You’ll be damned spending all your time talking to the fool with shaggy hair and a crooked smile that made you want to burn something.

The only sound other than the whoosh in your ears and the rapid pumping of your heart as you exert yourself is the uncanny, blistering laughter of Jeon Jungkook. At least someone was enjoying your torment.

You swore at that moment that you were going to deck him someday. Even if it was the last thing you ever did. Maybe not even physically, gah, but you were going to get a time so fast, so unbelievably better that Jungkook would be dumbstruck in awe and lagging to catch up. You grin at the thought.

   By the time practice comes to an end, your knee has migrated from a troublesome ache to a colossal titan. Dragging your body out of the water proves to be much a greater task that you previously took for granted. You try and fail to hold back your groans as you attempt to not limp back to the locker rooms and take a shower. Also, you need a painkiller stat.

The coach is too busy being circled by the hyena pack that is freshmen to really pay any attention to you. However, you know better than to think you’ve slipped past his radar. He’s definitely going to catch you sometime later to rim your ass for going too hard the first day of the semester. You guess that makes him a great coach in the grand scheme of things but you’d rather he let you be.

“Your knee acting up again?” Your lane buddy and a veteran senior in the program, Seokjin asks as he saddles up next to you and rips the navy blue swim cap off his head. You fear a little bit for his hair. “I thought doc cleared it?”

You sigh, not really wanting to remember last year when the university-affiliated doctor told you that you needed to take three months off swimming to heal and you’d barely lasted two weeks without going insane. You shiver at the horror of it all as you wrap your Legend of Zelda limited edition Link towel around your dripping body.

“Yeah, he did.” You send him a smile that comes off like a wince and then you give up on trying to downplay the pain altogether. “Guess it’s just not doing so hot today.”

Seokjin nods solemnly like he understands. “Some days are worse than others. I get that.”

“It be like that. I’ll be fine.”

“Do you think you’d be set for March though? Coach’s probably going to start analyzing his final picks for the comp.”

Ugh, Goddess of the Sea take me now! The National Collegiate Swim Competition is an annual event held every March and even though you’d made the cut as a naïve freshman, a knee injury caused you to be sidelined in your second year. But now though, you have to get on the final lineup. An absolute must.

Your cold heart won’t take it to be on the stands watching your teammates accomplish something you dreamed of. Something you’d worked and sacrificed so much for. You won’t stand to watch Jungkook rub it in your face how he’d come in a mere 0.6 seconds away from the first position. And you definitely won’t stand to have another year put on hold when your dream is literally right in front of you.

You bite out a laugh that sounds foreign even to your own ears. God, your knee is killing you. “You know what they say about pain.”

Seokjin gives you a quizzical look. Like he, in fact, has no idea what you mean. And you’re about to launch into a tirade about exercise mottos when you feel a tall presence step up behind you. You don’t even have to turn around to know it’s him. Of course, it’s him. Who else would encroach in on your personal space without a second thought?

“She means she’s gonna push through her limping and her tense as fuck shoulders and pull a win out of her ass. Don’t you,” the way he says your name is so patronizing, so unbelievably condescending that you whip your head up to glare at him.

“That’s impossible. If anyone knows how to take care of their body and not push their limits to insanity it’s Y/N.” Seokjin appears appalled that Jungkook would even think of such a thing. But Jungkook knows you better than anyone, albeit hatefully.

“Mm-hm. You doubt how crazy obsessed she is with winning.”

“Says you,” you spit out but it lacks your usual snark.

In truth, maybe Jungkook was right about your shoulders not being as stretched out as they should’ve been. They feel sore and they almost gave out on you during a lap. You were basically running on guts and mental fortitude for the last four laps. But you’d rather swallow butcher knives than admit that aloud for his ears to hear.

Seokjin is oblivious to the simmering tension between the two of you. Instead, he turns to you with so much concern sweeping through his posture it makes you uncomfortable and yet happy at the same time. “Take care of yourself, Y/N. There’s no point in winning if your body crashes on you, yeah?”

You know he means well and it’s not like you like lying to your senior but you know he just won’t get where you’re coming from. “Yeah,” you stare down at the suddenly interesting aqua-tiled floor.

He pats your shoulder once before he turns down the other way to the male locker rooms leaving you and Jungkook alone. You’re about to go on your own merry way — agonizingly slow of course, when a hand latches to your upper arm and stops you.

You swear you shouldn’t feel anything but your skin almost scorches at the contact. Your brain is divided: a part of you wants him to never let go, while the other half can’t get away from him fast enough. You don’t breathe, heck you don’t even move.

“Winning isn’t everything.”

You don’t mean to — truly, you don’t — but a scoff slips out of your lips before you even register it. “Coming from the golden boy that basically has a clear shot at making the lineup? Yeah, I won’t drink to that anytime soon.”

Jungkook uses his free hand to run through his hair like a maniac. And you entertain the idea that perhaps you really do get under his skin as much as he does you. The thought elates you and dilutes the throbbing in your knee to a lesser degree. He’s your biggest tormentor and you can only dream to be the same thing for him. Equivalent exchange and all that jazz.

He clicks his tongue at you and somehow that infuriates you even more. “You know what? Do whatever you want. Ruin your body for all I care.” He lets go of your arm like it’d be painful to hold it any longer. He pulls at the towel he has around his shoulders so hard that even you feel the burn and then he drapes it over his head, effectively blocking you out.

A forgotten part of you wonders why he’s so concerned about your body anyway. It’s not like he should care at all.

The two of you aren’t friends. Once upon a time that wasn’t the case but you aren’t one to cry over spilled milk much less bemoan over it. But it still rubs you some kind of way that Jungkook thinks it’s normal to voice his concern to you. The two of you are not close like that. At least, not anymore.

You scowl to yourself as you weave your way back to the locker room. You’re not much of a talker but you wave back at a few of the girls that bother to look your way. And spend a good ten minutes talking to a freshman about how she needs to stop holding her breath for long periods because all that does is make you dizzy and liable to pass out. After all that, it’s no wonder that you’re the last one out of the showers.

Tugging your baby blue beanie tight across your forehead, you curse yourself for forgetting to pack your knee brace when you left your dorm this morning. But whatever, you’ll push through it. You always do.

What you’re not expecting is to see a lithe body resting on the bench right outside the swim center.  And it strikes you as odd that you immediately know in your gut that it’s Jungkook. Even though you’re too chicken now to admit it, there was a time when you’d engraved his whole body into your mind like he was a science project you were desperately in need of completing. Although his body has since gained more muscle mass and reduced way more body fat, it’s still him. No matter how hard you try to burn him out of your memory, he never leaves. You fear your only remedy might be self-induced amnesia.

What you’re not expecting is for that body clad snugly in black sweatpants, a really oversized navy sweatshirt that has ‘I AM NOT GONNA BE MERCY’ branded in fine print across his chest, and a beanie that suspiciously matches the one on your own head, to turn up and catch your gaze like he knows you’ve been staring.

You blink once and then twice and then once more just to be sure. Weird. You have no idea why he’s waiting out here and you’re even more confused as to why he owns a beanie that looks way too much like yours to be a coincidence. You shift your gaze to the sidewalk, debating if it’s worth it to strike a conversation with him. All it will do is leave you irritated, so you decide to continue to your dorm instead. Screw him and whatever he’s out in this cold as shit weather for.

“What? You’re just gonna ignore me now?”

Huffing, you pretend he’s not matching his strides to your sluggish pace.

“This is cold, even for you.”

Maybe if you keep quiet he’ll think you’ve gone magically inept in the span of forty minutes?

“You know I thought I was doing a good thing by waiting for you.”

That gets you to break your mental battle. “I didn’t ask you to do that, Jeon.”

“I know that. But what if you slid across the pavement and went straight to the dimension of hell? I have to be there for that.” He sounds genuinely invested in the matter at hand.

“I can still walk perfectly fine, thank you very much.” You almost smack your head dead against the stoned ground when your foot snags a loose edge of the sidewalk. Fuck.

“Pfft.” He’s barely holding in his laughter but you don’t cower. Har-dee-har-har. You don’t need him breathing down your neck thinking he’s doing you a favor or anything.

You don’t need pity parties hosted by Jeon Jungkook. Not again. Not after that one night that you thought was perfect and monumental when in reality all it really was a blip in his radar. You’re nothing special, or at least Jungkook thought so. It’s been years since then but that’s the funny thing about pain. It doesn’t just die down because you refuse to think about it. It simmers, it boils, it festers. Pain is a living, breathing monster and simply because you don’t devote time to it doesn’t mean it’s not taking up space under your bed.

But you are not going to think about it. Because you are definitely over it. Yep. That was it. You are over your ex-best friend and you are happy... Bah, what-fucking-ever.

Maybe he realizes that you’re not in the mood for the snark he would normally throw your way because the walk back to your dorm is relatively quiet after that. This is the most civil the two of you have been in a long while. Most of times the both of you are too busy making jabs at each other. But you’d noticed that ever since your accident last year that busted your knee, he’s been different.

You’ve yet to decide if that difference is for good or bad but it doesn’t matter because you’re back at your dormitory which means you get to sleep the rest of the day before work. Yes, maybe there is a God.

“Look, take care of yourself, okay?”

You stop on the stone steps to take him in. His hands stuffed deep in his pockets, the January chill making the tip of his nose bright red but his eyes don’t hold the same mischievous fight as before. He’s determined. You know him well enough to know that.

“I’m not going to die climbing up some stupid stairs.”

He shakes his head. Guess he’s not up for jokes then. “I mean it,” he breathes your name out with so much seriousness it stuns you. “You can be cruel to me. You can be angry at me. But don’t take it out on your body. Just... don’t.”

What does he know about cruelty? He knows not jack shit about cruelty. Cruelty was a seventeen-year-old girl waxing poetic love to a boy that she thought hung the moon, the stars and the sun only for him to trample over it just because. Maybe it was the hormones, maybe it was the timing, maybe it was every fucking thing in between but that night had been a changing point. Horror movies weren’t half as scary as being rejected by your best friend since before you were five and not know why. Cruelty was not whatever this limbo you and Jungkook had. You’d experienced cruelty and that was far worse.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do. Not then and certainly not now.”

Pushing your body to its limits is something you have to do. Getting better at swimming is something you would die trying to attain. Not because you particularly love swimming all that much but rather because it’s the one thing, the only thing that you really do believe you can beat Jungkook in. The only thing you can compete with him and with hard work win. You have to win. You can’t stand being second place next to him. It makes you want to gag. It makes you revert back to that seventeen-year-old girl you thought you’d killed off in your origin story.

Pathetic, you think to yourself. But you won’t stop because you’ve already come so far.

You rush up the stairs and into the dorm like lightning. You’re so quick that you don’t even feel any twinge of pain ricocheting from your knee or anywhere else to be honest. You’re a running painkiller. You haul ass all the way to your room and it’s only when you’ve locked the door and released the longest sigh of your whole adult life that it hits you.

And here’s another thing about pain: it always comes rushing back.

If it’s even possible, over the next few weeks your knee becomes even worse of a problem. Waking up in the morning becomes more of a drag than usual, you can barely walk to your classes much less the swim center without your brace on and then perform a Mission Impossible skit so that the rest of the team doesn’t see the brace dangling in your locker. You’re seriously considering ripping the whole joint out. For Zelda’s sake, it has to hurt significantly less, right?

To make matters worse you’re basically lying out of your ass to Seokjin and the rest of the team that your knee is not bothering you one bit. You’re such a liar, someone needs to lock you up for it. But it’s already the end of February and you can already taste the end of it all. All you need to do is hold on by the skin of your teeth for the next couple of days and then you’ll be free. Sure, rationally you know you’re not swimming your best right now but that does nothing to deter you from what you’ve set your mind on.

“Hey, Y/N,” the voice of the Student Assistant, Namjoon stops you in your attempt to blend in with the other swim members exiting the building after a rather rough day. “You came in later than usual today. Something up?”

Namjoon is an amazing guy. Attentive but not too overbearing. A great listener but he doesn’t go overboard with trying to get you to confess your deep, darkest fears to him. But even with knowing all of this, you still don’t want to tell him a thing. You know he’ll understand, that’s not the problem. The problem is, he would seriously blow it out of proportion. All you want to do is head home, nap for a good hour or three and then head to your afternoon class and get back to crashing. Was that too much to ask?

“Yeah, I’m great. Just a little tired.”

He raises an eyebrow at you, flipping through the sheet on his clipboard. “Hmm, your times been dropping since last week. You sure everything’s fine?”

Fuck. You fumble thinking of an answer, your eyes skittering around the tiled floor till you look up and lock on Jungkook staring right back. He’s a few feet away near the front door discussing with one of the assistant coaches but for some reason, his big, brown eyes are glued to your frame. An inane section of your brain wants to beg him to come over and rescue you from lying so horribly to Namjoon. While another insane part of you wants to sneer at him and tell him to stop freaking looking at you when you’re at your worst.

“I... uh,” you stutter and return your attention back to the kind senior in front of you. “I’m fine. I promise.”

Namjoon cocks an eyebrow at you, disbelieving. “Is it your knee? We could get the team doctor — ”

Your eyes widen in alarm and you stumble away from him, your thoughts passing the point of loudness and encroaching into deafness. No way. There’s no way you’re going to let him bring up your injury and then take it up with the other coaches because you know — deep in your bones — that if he does that you won’t make the cut for the lineup talk less of being able to just attend practice. You’d be kept on the side like an invalid.

Hate.

You hate it. Your stupid knee, the stupid way you were running late to practice almost a full year ago and then proceeded to fall down a flight of stairs and dislocate your knee so bad that when the seasons shift from sunny to cloudy, your knee throbs like an ingrained weather alert.

You hate how much the pain makes you want to cry. You hate yourself for pushing yourself, even more, when you know you shouldn’t. You hate how everyone is so damn concerned about you like you somehow deserve it. You hate that you don’t deserve their kindness, not when every other athlete next to you is getting better and better by the second and you don’t want to be left behind.

“Bro, she’ll be fine.” You don’t realize your savior and yet tormentor has weaseled his way into the conversation until you you hear the soft timbre of his voice. He stands so close to you that you smell the sweet scent of vanilla from his clothes. “I mean, look at her. Her technique is still kicking ass, no one can touch her when it comes to form.”

Lips wobbling a little under the pressure of your teeth, you peer up at him. Your mind running a mile a minute trying to place what his endgame is. Why is he here? What does he think he’s doing?

Namjoon laughs, his features becoming even more stunning with the action and you glance away from Jungkook. There’s no way he bought that blatant form of flattery. “That is true. Y/N has the best technique in the program right now. Probably best in the state.”

Lies. You know there’s talk about some super senior at a neighboring powerhouse school being the best in your division. But your mind is clogged up with your loud thoughts that you don’t say anything to refute his claim.

“Anyways, let me know if you need anything, ‘Kay?” Namjoon demands your attention. “Take it easy and rest up this weekend.”

You nod profusely and Namjoon smiles at the action like your adorable. You frown at that. And then he’s gone and you’re stuck with Jungkook and the thoughts clamoring around in your head.

“I didn’t need you to save me. Or lie for me.”

“Sure,” he says but his eyes say something different. That maybe if you really didn’t want his help you shouldn’t have looked at him like a deer in headlights practically begging the floor to swallow you up. “And I wasn’t lying. You do have a better technique.”

You roll your shoulders, ignoring the praise. “Seriously. I was fine.”

“Fine my ass,” he mutters, pushing past your body and heading outside the door.

“I didn’t need your help and I don’t owe you —” The frigid air whips across your cheeks so hard that you have to stop and close your eyes for a beat. When you peel them back open you find Jungkook looking down at you without something akin to disappointment swimming in his eyes. “What?”

He stares at you for what seems like an eternity. You try not to break away from his gaze but your eyes skittle across his outfit. The beanie on his head that outrageously still looks similar to the one you have on, his grey padded jacket and a similar shade of sweatpants. And by the time your eyes reach back to his face, his focus has diverted to glaring needles at your knee.

“What?” You repeat, this time though you’re whispering like you might not like what he will say next.

“I don’t get it. You of all people know how horrible last year was. Why are you doing this to yourself?”

You suck in a deep breath, not wanting to relive your sophomore year. “Why do you care?”

“Why?” Jungkook practically stutters at the question, his already big doe eyes transforming into the size of craters. “Are you trying to prove something? To who? Me?”

“I don’t care about you, Jeon. And I don’t need to prove any single thing to you. You’re dead to me.”

“You think that by carrying this invisible burden and pushing yourself to the point of borderline insanity you’re going to get better? That you won’t burnout? That somehow you’re going to get back at me? After you’ve ruined your knee and not only ruined your chances at swimming competitively ever again but just in general? You think you’d finally feel like you’ve served me a hot plate of revenge?”

There’s no reason for him to be able to see right through you so easily. There’s no reason for him to know how stupid this whole thing is and how really the only one suffering is you. Always you. Only you. Alone.

Jungkook’s face twists into a vision of pain and you’re stunned into silence. It’s like you can tell how much your disregard for your own body is affecting him when it shouldn’t. He’s your self-proclaimed enemy that was once your friend. You shouldn’t feel like you’re hurting him more than yourself.

You don’t even feel the lone tear that slips past your walls and slides down your cheek until he moves closer and uses a smooth thumb to wipe it away. Dammit, you’re better than this.

“Not everything is about you, Jungkook.” But right now it is. For you, it is.

He nods his head once. The pain that was painted on his face morphing into something you can’t discern but his thumb doesn’t lift from your face. Instead, the rest of his fingers cradle the side of your face like they’re protecting you. You inflate at the action. After several seconds, they’re gone.

“I should go,” he states matter-of-factly.

Don’t, you want to say but the words live and die in your throat You know if you start you’d say too much. “Yeah.”

Even though you want him to make up some silly excuse as to why he has to walk you home. Like maybe you’d slip and knock yourself into the netherworld. He does nothing of that sort. He puffs out his cheeks; resembling a bunny, and then he sends you a wary smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

For the first time in ages, you don’t like the sight of his retreating back. For the first time in a long time, you don’t even have the energy to pledge eternal damnation to Jeon Jungkook. All you want to do is ask him why. Why were you not enough? Why did he hand you back your heart when all you wanted was for him to keep it. And why did he suddenly do a one-eighty in college, resorting to snide comments and remarks that make you boil but also instill air into your lungs like you are finally breathing again? Why does it seem like he still cares?

You’re on a mission to drown out everything that has to do with Jeon Jungkook. You don’t like that he has created a rupture in your stratosphere. You don’t like that you’re realizing that you’ve been waging a war but not against Jungkook like you’d originally perceived. Now now that you think about it, when has he really been a rival? You’ve really only been fighting yourself.

The two of you aren’t even in the same category. You don’t even specialize in the same swimming techniques. And now that you’re seriously going through it, has he ever really been conceited about getting better times? All he ever did was point out things you were doing off and even though you hated it, it wasn’t like he was lying.

You’re one step away from your dorm when your phone buzzes with a flurry of text messages. It’s from the swim team group chat for juniors and seniors.

Taehyung: It’s the weekend mi amigos *dancing emoji*

Vivian: whatever you’re thinking... it’s gonna be a no! from me! also i thought u were sick?

Taehyung: aw come on i havent even said anything yet

Taehyung: not! sick! it was just the flu

Seokjin: flu is a sickness, no?

Vivian: im so tired dudes,, im not going out with y’all to get smashed

Nathan: im down

Taehyung: yes!!!!

Taehyung: guys i promise! you’ll love me for it. a friend of a friend is hosting a party on Greek row. Let’s GO!!

Vivian: it’s not like we’re the only friends you have. ask someone else dude

Before you even think about it, you’re typing a response.

You: I’ll come. We don’t have training tmr so...

Taehyung: OMFG

Nathan: i had no idea you were in the chat lol

Vivian: rude. if y/n’s going then maybe she’ll keep Tae’s head on straight

Seokjin: don’t know if JK’s down but I’ll drag him out if I have to.

You: don’t do that.

Taehyung: why? don’t you guys have that whole foreplay thing going on or?????

You: WHAT

Vivian: wait i might come after all

Seokjin: Tae, leave it alone.

Taehyung: okay but it’s not my fault they both barely look at anyone other than themselves during practice. i can’t be the only one that noticed them basically eye-fucking each other all day everyday

Nathan: i second that

Vivian: ... sorry, y/n. but i third that

Seokjin: GUYS. if she leaves the chat because y’all can’t keep your mouth shut istg,,

Nathan: wait is jungkook reading this?

God, how you want the whole universe to open up and swallow you whole. Your phone feels like a hot potato in your hands. You throw the wretched thing into the back of your jeans pocket and blink over and over again as you rush into your dorm and up the elevator.

It takes the rest of the day to calm your cheeks from splitting from humiliation or embarrassment, it’s a close tie. You don’t pay attention in class, you can barely nap without the words blinking at the back of your eyelids like neon target signs.

Foreplay? Foreplay?!

You almost spontaneously combust.

You hear the telltale sound of a key unlocking your dorm room door and you hightail out of the ensuite bathroom before you can even think.

“Foreplay?!” You all but scream at your roommate and fellow swim team member, Vivian.

At the very least she looks sheepish, smiling nervously as she pushes a piece of her coiled hair behind her ear. “I thought you knew. I mean, everyone talks about it.”

“What about me wanting to rip his ass from his hole screams foreplay to anyone?!”

She shrugs, her lilac sweater falling down one brown shoulder. “I don’t know, it’s kinda sexy.” She drops her backpack on the only sofa and turns back to you. “He’s the only one you really talk to in the team so, everyone just kinda assumed y’all were either a has-been or a to-be couple.”

Wheezing, you lock your arms defiantly across your chest. “I don’t like him.”

“Yeah, okay.” Vivian laughs, unconvinced for some reason.

“I’m not kidding. He’s annoying. Always breathing down my neck like he’s my personal trainer or something. Any time I do a thing it’s like he has to say something in response, you know. I don’t hate him but I don’t... I don’t like like him.”

“Do you think he’s attractive?”

“Everyone does.”

She smirks at you like she’s caught you dead in a trap. “And you?”

You bite your lip. It’s not worth the hassle to lie. “A little bit. A teeny-tiny bit.”

“What about him do you think is attractive? And don’t mention his thighs because we all know those are in a different league of their own.”

That gets a laugh out of you. Vivian’s mouth widens at the sound. You realize then that maybe, just maybe, you’ve been hoarding things in for too long. And you appreciate Vivian because she’s always been nice and has tolerated your one-worded answers and four am showers like a champ. You want to give her an award or something.

You lean against the wall and think about her question. “Well, in a way his nagging and pushing my buttons can be seen as being attentive? I mean, he notices things about me that I don’t. And I’ve been… thinking that maybe he’s not really all that bad like I conjured up in my head.” More than that, before everything turned to shit, you thought he was the kindest, funniest person in the galaxy.

“Well, I’m no team Jungkook,” she snickers at her own Twilight reference and your lips tilt up as well. “And I won’t pretend to know what’s gone on between you and him. But whatever it is, maybe y’all just need to, like, talk it out.”

“I—”

Vivian shushes you. “You know I’m right.” She sashays to her room door and then turns back to you. “We’re going to go to Taehyung’s friend of a friend’s frat party and you’re gonna get the liquid courage to talk to him. I think everyone on the team would appreciate the whole sexual tension going on between the two of you finally being exiled into the cosmos.”

Cosmos?

You’re not really sure what happens after that. You let Vivian convince you to trade your comfortable sweatpants for an A-line skirt, tights and a stylish sweater that you’d bought on a whim. At least if you’re going to really say screw all and go for this party, you refuse to be a shivering mess.

Even though Greek Row is truly not that far from your dorm, you let Vivian drive the two of you over. She talks about everything and anything and it feels like it’s been forever since you hung out with anyone that wasn’t during scheduled practice and workout sessions.

Hell, what have you been doing for the last four years? Being obsessed with results that apparently your arch-nemesis doesn’t even care about?

Vivian tells you about the dude she’s dating and how he’s on the university’s volleyball team. You’re more surprised than you should be. You can’t believe you’ve been roommates with her for almost two years and you barely know anything about her other than surface-level shit. Oh, Zelda, this is one big bitch of an awakening.

“I’m sorry,” you say sincerely as she puts the car in park aways from the actual fraternity building. The entire street is blocked up with cars so it was hard to find any space. “For being here and yet not really at the same time.”

Thankfully, Vivian doesn’t make you sweat. “S’cool. Everyone’s got their own shit.”

“I’ve been really shitty lately.”

“Hmm, well, we can get drunk off our asses and feel really shitty together?” You decide then and there that she is amazing and only the devil will be able to pry this budding friendship out of your cold hands.

You find out that Vivian is very skilled at mixing drinks. It takes barely half an hour for you to start feeling a buzz and by your third round of whatever she stirs for you, you’ve straight up arrived at the land of Drunkenville: population; one. You’re busy debating with her and her boyfriend about how sports anime is simply the best branch of cinema to have ever been created and the one sub-genre that truly speaks about the resilience of the human spirit when you feel a heavy arm wrap around your shoulders.

“Y/N,” the voice all but screams in your ear. You hazily look up to see Taehyung’s chiseled face smiling down at you. And even your intoxicated self can tell that he’s pregamed the fuck out of this night already. “I brought lil Jungkookie for you. At first, he was all blah blah not going but when I said you were going to be here. Boi jumped like a fish in water.”

Taehyung laughs and you laugh with him, not really sure if you get the joke but happy nonetheless that he’s happy.

“‘Sup Viv and Viv’s boyfriend,” he salutes them and weirdly enough, Vivian’s boyfriend doesn’t take offense. He salutes back.

Vivian rolls her eyes but then she clasps two strong hands across your shoulders, effectively washing away the tipsy gaze from your eyes for a moment. “Now, listen. You’re going to find Jungkook and let him know how you really feel. Use all this liquid courage and let him have it. And you shouldn’t care that we’re at a party because almost everyone is drunk anyway.

And if that goes to shit and you want out of this place, don’t you dare even think of walking home, okay? You look for me. Don’t think I haven’t seen you limping your way across the dorm like a crazy bitch. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t have the right. But so help me, if you so much as think of walking back I will ... I don’t know what I will do but you won’t like it! So go find Jungkook and do us all a favor and end this eternal foreplay.”

Foreplay... that damned word again. It overrides your brain system and makes you think of things you shouldn’t want. But you’re stupidly confident right now. Hell, your knee hasn’t really been bothering you since you woke up from your nap. The alcohol in your blood is dancing to its own beat and it’s lighting your system on fire.

If not now then when?

You have a gazillion and one questions to ask Jungkook. Questions you’ve kept silenced and bottled down in your heart for years. Questions that keep you up at night. And maybe its because the last month and a half has made you question everything about yourself and your ethic and your predicament, you know you have to do this now.

Fuck it. Who cares if you become the source of this boorish party’s entertainment like a walking cliché? It’s not like you’d remember anything that happens here and you only know a handful of people. Embarrassment? You don’t know her. Not today.

You find him in the basement with a cup of something near his booted feet and his gleaming eyes transfixed on the TV in front of him. His tongue poking a hole in cheek. There’s a small crowd of people around him and you take one glance at the screen and see that he’s playing Super Smash. Of course. He looks beautiful like this. Different than the last time you saw him and better because he doesn’t have that look of agony coloring his eyes.

You could probably spend a whole day just looking at him. Taking in the man that’s grown from the boy you once knew and called your own. His body is a work of art and ought to be chiseled and crafted like the sculptures of the Renaissance era. If you were any good a sculptor, you would’ve done just that. Instead, you commit him to memory. Because even though it is possible that neither of you likes each other anymore, you want to remember this.

He looks perfect like this. Happy. Not distressed and sad like when you’d confessed to him. When you had laid your heart bare before him and he didn’t even react. You wish you could say he had pried your heart out of your hands and ripped it to shreds. But that wasn’t the case. Your heart hadn’t shattered by his blatant rejection. It had melted.  

You watch as his character, Link, of course, K.O’s his opponent and Player 2 Victory flashes on the television screen. He wins. Like always. You don’t feel mad like you usually do. Maybe you’ve finally accepted that there are just some things you can’t win no matter how steadfast and committed you are.

Jungkook looks up from his controller, pumping his fist in the air, his long, dark hair flopping around his face like a curtain. Your veins practically burst with electricity when his smiling eyes notice yours in the corner like you knew they would. The smile dims and you expect that. You’re not asking for a love to cure all epidemics or a lie to burn your body to ash. You just want to move on. To finally escape the purgatory you’ve put yourself in.

“We need to talk,” you try to say as loud as you can but the cheers and conversations of the people around you drown you out.

Somehow in someway, he hears you and nods his head. Maybe he’s a glutton for pain like you. He scoots out of the loveseat, standing to his full height and making pleasant excuses to his newly acquired friends that you don’t know. Maybe it’s the fake courage but you don’t take your gaze away from him. You’re going to do this. You have to — you suck in a huge breath — you must.

Once he steps into your bubble of personal space, the rest of the world fizzles out.

“This is a bundle of firsts, Ice Queen. You? At a party and instigating a conversation with me first? Damn, did you get a taste of hell without me videoing?”

“You always joke about everything,” you decide to bite the bullet. “I used to find that really cute.”

Alcohol o’ alcohol, why hath thou forsaken me? You almost look up to the heavens and question what possessed you to drink so much but then you rehear Vivian’s speech in your head and you find your resolve and strangle it.

Jungkook’s eyebrows fly up like he’s not quite prepared for this. “Wait, what are you... Are you drunk right —”

“I’m not good with words. And I’ve always sucked at speaking my mind and being thoughtful and generally being a good person. Like you,” you smile sadly when you remember the first time you ever made a friend; the boy in front of you that had offered you to come over sometime and play his GameCube with him when his older siblings were too busy to hang with him. “I’m passive at best when it comes to anything that’s not swimming. And even that, you got me into it. You were the reason I started it. You know this, I would’ve rather died than engage in anything that made me exert energy. But you made it fun until I genuinely loved it.”

“That’s not,” Jungkook shakes his head adamantly. “That’s—”

You shoot him a look. “Let me finish okay? I have this whole thing in my head and ... please, just let me say it.”

You hadn’t realized the curious looks the people around had been shooting your way until you see Jungkook scowl at any and every one before he intertwines your hands with his and pulls you out of the basement in a swift motion. You don’t mind the giddy feeling enveloping your chest at the sight of your fingers wrapped around each other. A part of you actually loves how cocooned it makes you feel. You want to bottle this feeling up and bathe in it.

He must be overfamiliar with the frat house because he leads you expertly into a room at the end of the hallway on the first floor. He shuts the door and then locks it. For a minute, he stares at your locked hands and you wonder if he feels the same pull you do. If he’s ever felt the same pull you do.

“When I handed you my heart and my everything, why didn’t you want it? Why did you act like I had committed a grievous crime against you and your glorious self?”

There. You’ve gone and said the thing. The biggest question that has plagued your mind for months and years. If your best friend didn’t even find value in you then really, was there any to begin with?

Jungkook lets out a heavy sigh that careens his shoulders down as if he’s carrying the weight of the world. A sigh so deep that it shakes his body from the vibrations visible through his black tee, and crashes into your soul. He closes his eyes for his barely a second but you wish he’d just spit it out. Pour acid on your wounds so you can feel the fire of a thousand suns and finally, fucking finally move on. Baptism by fire they call it but what you want is a goddamn exorcism.

“You thought I shat gold and that I hung the moon and that I was this perfect person when I’m not. I mean, have you listened to yourself? You think you’re a bad person because all you’ve ever done is compare me to you. But it was you and me. Not either or.

You think I really love swimming when you’re not the one egging me on? Pushing me to be better? You think I would’ve let you confess your magnificent love for me and then accept it when every sentence you said contrasted you from me. Pitted you against me? I’m competitive, you’re competitive but I didn’t think you needed competition when it came to that. You’d already won. And then I had this crazy stupid idea that maybe just being friends with you would work. I mean, love isn’t something you need to fight yourself bloody and dead for. Why would I accept this really amazing love from someone that was going to feel less than me and feel like shit for it?”

“So, what were you gonna do? Just wait till I up and decided that I was insecure and didn’t have a major inferiority complex I had no idea about?” Your sober thoughts vomit out of your mouth with impressive speed.

“I was still your friend,” Jungkook almost yells and out of his aggravation, his hands slip out of yours. The loss is staggering. He jabs his index finger into his chest. “I did everything I could do to still be your friend. But you wouldn’t talk to me. And I get that we were sixteen and there were so many ways we could’ve done better but you shut me out.”

“No, I…” You begin to say but the words die in your mouth.

Truth be told, you did shut him out. It wasn’t like you blocked him on every site. But when he tried to talk to you at school, you pretended he wasn’t there. When he stopped over at your place, you told your parents that you were sick and to keep him out. When he sent party invites on the gaming platforms the two of you shared a love for, you ignored them and turned off your console. But it wasn’t like you did all of this out of spite to begin with. It was just easier.

You were hurt. Seeing him brought on multiple feelings of shame, embarrassment, and pain all wrapped snugly like a demonic burrito. And he was your best friend, it wasn’t like you didn’t have other friends you could’ve asked for advice but the one person you wanted to talk to was the one person you couldn’t reach out to. So you didn’t think about it. Instead, you threw yourself headfirst into freezing ass water and worked your butt off with the one thing you had left.

And contrary to what Jungkook believes, he made you feel good about yourself. Like an anchor. You didn’t have to hide your nerdiness between a cold exterior so as to not get teased about it. With him, you were free. Like he was a sun that burned a path that enabled you to breathe easy. To be yourself so that you wouldn’t drown.

“You think I really go around joking with every bum on the swim team about Down To Fuck Demons for hire or that I walk every person with a rubbish knee home in fucking negative degree weather? Or that I worry about everyone that’s throwing their whole future away over a rivalry that doesn’t even exist? You think I’ve been playing the role of a pest around you because I hate you? —”

“Vehemently despise,” you choke on your words but your sense of seriousness causes Jungkook to burst into a staccato of quick muted laughter.

“Y/N,” he whispers your name like it’s a thing of beauty. And maybe it is. Right now you think so. “Firstly, I was dumb and I thought if I left things as they were maybe you’d realize how fucking awesome you were without me. But then all you ever did was practice and practice like you were training for an aquatics mafia or some shit. And then I realized that maybe you’re not the only one that sucks with words and when to say them. I should’ve told you that I did love you. Platonically. Romantically. And you made me feel great and not because you were less than but rather because being with you meant that I was my best self.”

You feel a cascade of water flooding down your cheeks like a waterfall but you don’t release a sound and you don’t really care about it because this moment feels sacred. Because you’re not crying out of pain or agony or longing. Rather it’s because you finally understand.

“You were like the sun and you were so blinding that I thought I would incinerate if I was still next to you like nothing happened.”

“Ha,” Jungkook scoffs, using a palm to run across his face. Then he squints his eyes at you like he’s seeing you anew for the first time. “If I’m the sun then you are —”

“The sun eater.” The words fly out of your mouth with ease. Quoting your fave anime characters was a thing the two of you had done relentlessly for days, heck, years.

Jungkook nods his head, elated that you remember like there was ever a time you’d forget My Hero Academia. “I’m not gonna apologize for not accepting your confession back then. I can’t. Not when I genuinely think neither of us knew what the fuck we were doing back then. Still don’t.”

“And I’m not going to say sorry for pulling away from you. I mean, I’m not a masochist.”

He lets out a throaty laugh that washes your insides clean. And you give a watery smile back, feeling soberer than you did a couple hours ago. You bet you look worse for wear but you don’t care because you’re done not pretending.

“Why did it take four years for me to...” your voice chokes and you almost break down right then and there. But your stubbornness is a thing of pride. “For us to finally talk about it. It would’ve made so much more sense if we had just talked and now I feel like I’ve wasted four years of my life being angry? Feeling discarded? But it’s not like that at all.”

Jungkook’s smooth yet experienced hands cradle the sides of your face and the overflowing tears pool in the flesh that connects his thumbs to your skin. “Friends fight all the time.”

You snort and he grins. “Most friends aren’t half as dumb as us.”

“You got that right. I think dumbness is attractive.” He says with an overflowing aura of achievement. “This just means we’ll just have to spend more time making up for it.” He dips his head down till his lips brush the tip of your ear. “And by the way, I think I’m done being your friend exclusively,” he says.

“Yeah?” You ask and for an inane reason, you smile even harder because the tears on your face feel like rain. And you’re still breathing easier, albeit a tad bit faster. But there’s no crash and burn after you’ve soared too close to the sun. Unlike before your heart feels like it’s glowing instead of charring.

“I think I want to take you out on a date.”

Your eyes widen with faux-horror. “Just one?”

“Oh my Zelda, can I at least finish my grand speech?” He rolls his eyes. “As I was saying, it won’t be one date but you know that kinda depends on if you’re still god at Fortnite. I mean, partying up is basically the same as marriage, you know?”

“Kook?”

“Yeah?”

“Your inner nerd is showing.”

Jungkook sputters loudly, the action making his hair swish across his forehead and his hands drop from your face. “Oh, forgive me. I thought you loved my nerdiness.”

“Love,” you correct him. “Present tense.”

His mouth practically breaks even with the floor with how wide he’s gaping. You haven’t sprouted a second head, have you?

You clear your throat, attempting to be blasé about the whole thing. “Well, if we’re really going to pursue this whole dating thing then I have to be honest, right? I think it’s quite sexy how knowledgeable you are about gaming and stuff even though we’re like hardcore athletes.”

“So I’m like an onion? Three dimensional? The more you get to know me, the more you love how I’m not like Other Guys trademark sign?”

You guffaw so hard you almost start crying all over again. “Oh my Zelda, we were having a moment. Why did you ruin our moment?”

“Think I can make up for it.” He looks at you with something akin to competition and licks his lips.

Your eyes falter at the action, zeroing in on them. Suddenly the distance between yours and his feels like a crime against humanity. It’s comical really, how the temperature of your body can fly from ice cold to a blazing inferno in less than minutes.

“Fuck,” you whisper.

“As you wish.”

Jungkook bends his lips to connect with yours in a swift motion. You’re surprised but a part of you must have anticipated it because you are pushing deeper into him as quickly as humanly possible. His arms snake across your waist, his hands landing squarely on your ass and his groan eliciting a magnitude of butterflies in the pit of your stomach as his tongue danced an infinite tango with yours. Smoothly, he backs you up until you feel your head tap a wall for support.

Holy crap shit. Your mind is a mess. No wait, your mouth is a mess. A warped sense of dizziness floods through your body and it has nothing to do with the alcohol you consumed earlier and everything to do with the sensuous teeth nipping at your bottom lip while his hands deftly squeeze your ass. Fuck, you can’t breathe. You don’t want to breathe. You cling unto his shoulders for stability and revel at how corded they feel under your touch.

He tears his lips away from yours, breathless, resting his forehead against yours. “God, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

“You can’t die until we get to the part where we role-play as demon and a naive spell caster.” You’re out of breath as well because that kiss was something else. Divine, maybe.

“I get to be the demon though, right?”

You grin at that. “Of course. I’m not a heathen.”

This time you kissed him, pushing all thoughts of future escapades further away from your mind and focusing on the beautiful man in front of you. Reaching up, you dig your hands through Jungkook’s abundant hair and moan. You understand then what it must have been like for Icarus to fly off to the sun. It must have scorched his skin to death within seconds, and yet at the same time, it must have been oh so slow. And you doubt he despaired because in the end he was heading home and he was finally not alone. You understand so well because the more the fire in your veins expands, the more you come close to burning up entirely. And you love it. You’re losing all control and you don’t care because he’s losing his alongside you.

Everything turns into a mess of frenzied motions. Him reluctantly removing a hand from your ass to reach up and use his fingers to clasp around your throat and position it just right enough for him to latch his lips there and suck. hard. When he pulls away from you to admire his handiwork, the lopsided grin on his face almost sends you into another need to kiss him.

“I’m not gonna fuck you at a frat party when only Zelda knows how many losers have cummed on a singular bedsheet,” he announces without remorse.

“Fair enough.”

“But I am going to do very wicked things to you that’ll loosen up those shoulders to the point of being supple. And after that, you’re gonna promise me that we’ll go get your knee checked out later.”

A few hours you would’ve kicked and screamed at the idea of anything derailing your plan of getting on the lineup for the competition. You thought that admitting you need help meant that you were quitting. Punishing yourself for something so irrevocably at out of your control. Now though, you nod your head drowsily. You hate the doctors but you hate self-destructing even more. Especially now when you have someone that hurts when you hurt.

He’s unraveling you.

“I’ll go.”

His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, not believing how easily you’ve conceded to him. “Where has my sweet, stubborn Ice Queen gone? Bring her back to me, please. All this ecstasy must have gone to her head.”

God, whoever said you still won’t want to deck Jungkook even after experiencing something so explosive. But his grin threatens to split your heart two. Like he’s happy to just be with you, adoring you, joking with you. Oh, how your body is singing with praises.

“Yours?” You cock an eyebrow at him.

Jungkook beams. He’s the sun and you’re the moon. Now that you’ve tasted this, you’re never going to let go. You are simply submerged.

“Haven’t you realized? You’re my girl.”

a/n: i know very much that i took a lot of liberty when writing about collegiate swimming/sports in generral (i took an advanced swim class at my uni last semester so thats where all my info comes from) i tweaked it a lil bit to fit my purposes but it was fun to try to write about it hehe. 

i hope you all loved this fic as much as i loved writing it!!!! 

⇢ masterlist

©️ 2020 kai, high-on-food. ✉

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Just, don’t wake up

Hi everyone! This is my fic for the @starkerkink exchange, dedicated to @vaguekiwi! I really hope you enjoy it :)

Pairing: Peter Parker x Tony Stark

High school AU, with superpowers.

Tony’s home life has never been amazing, but one night, it’s just too much for him. He flies blindly to the first destination he can think of in his battered suit, holding his breath when he realises exactly who’s house he’s flown to. He doubts this evening will be normal, especially when he realises there’s only one bed.

Warnings: Masturbation, Flogging, Name-calling, Restraints, slightly dub-con, both 17. Check ao3 for further warnings!

Read on ao3!

Tony arrived late to class, as usual. Peter sighed, the usual thought flitting through his head: How does he always manage to arrive late, even with a full body suit that flies?

The teacher for their class, AP Bio, glanced at Tony unimpressed but unsurprised-this was a regular occurrence, and it showed.

Tony waltzed to his seat with the usual I-really-don’t-give-a-shit attitude, plonking down and prompt executing a yawn. Peter rolled his eyes; did he always have that look on his hot face? How did he even get into AP Bio when he didn’t even pay attention? Oh yeah, that’s right-Howard Stark’s son, prodigy at 4, bla bla bla. Peter needed a break from the constant ‘Tony Stark made his own suit’ fawning that half the girls, and guys, constantly exhibited. Like yeah, big deal-was anyone gonna talk about Peter’s amazing skills to do with web fluid? Or crafting his own suits, which, well, didn’t always go particularly well?

“And today, we will be taking a bit of an off-topic turn into some neurobiology! Chemicals and hormones produced by the brain!” The teacher sang, trying to mask her own boredom with the unresponsive class, “who can tell me what the four main hormones to do with happiness contain?”

Peter shot his hand up, excited that he for once knew the answer to the question before smart-ass Tony.

“The four main chemicals are endorphins, dopamine, serotonin, and oxytocin, often abbreviated as D.O.S.E,” Peter stated. Tony slowly turned around in his chair, and glared at him. Peter just smirked. ‘One day,’ he mouthed at the growingly frustrated classmate.

“Very good! Can someone tell me what each of these hormones’ functions are?” Their teacher again asked. Peter’s hand shot up for the second time, his mouth forming a smirk in sync.

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

“Well well well, if it isn’t smart-ass Parker in a sticky situation?” Tony purred, his smooth voice richoeing off of the poorly-designed science lab. Peter sighed, closing his eyes in preparation before facing the problem.

“Does it look like I don’t know what I’m doing? Wouldn’t wanna steal your thunder now, would I?” He snarked back, trying to stir his web fluid in peace. The teacher had allowed his class 15 minutes of time to work on their various powers, any tweaks or fixes being attended to. Tony had apparently finished oiling up his suit, but Peter had no such privilege.

Tony flicked the back of Peter’s head as he strutted away, going over to talk to Steve and Bucky. Goddamned overpowered mutants. Ok, so maybe Peter was a tiny bit jealous of their friendship, but that was his business.

He dispensed the web fluid with a sigh, getting ready to pack up and head back to his apartment, and hopefully blow off some steam with a Star Wars movie night. He smiled softly to himself; maybe the day wouldn’t be so bad after all. He could chill with may, have some hot chocolate, quote every line of Empire Strikes Back because he totally doesn’t know it word for word.

The bell rang, immediately followed by a cacophony of bags zipping, several whirring sounds as various students fired up their ride home. Peter ducked his head down, knowing his power wasn’t as rich or powerful as his classmates’ privileged ones. And they didn’t even know it, how lucky they were. They’d never know what it’s like to be born with stickiness and a general strength upgrade. No super-advanced knowledge of tech, engineering, how to fly, being able to fly...everything that separated him from the rest of his peers.

Peter swung his backpack over his shoulder, cursing as his AP Bio textbook dropped onto the ground, setting off a too-loud thump on the concrete floor. A few heads swivelled in his direction, and Peter flushed as he hurriedly picked the offending book up, and returned it to its rightful place. Face still hot, he all but rushed out of the classroom, eager to change into his suit and get this day over with.

“Hey! Parker! Wait up, for fuck’s sake. You dropped two books, not one, you blind-ass bat,” Tony hollered, his feet slapping against the linoleum. Peter grabbed the exercise book from Tony’s offering hand, not dignifying the teen with a response. Ok, so maybe it was a bit harsh. But he had to stay ice-cold around Tony; if it got out Parker had a crush, it would not go down well. At. All.

“You’re not even gonna say thanks?” Tony spluttered in disbelief, hand still outstretched.

“Nope,” Peter replied, popping the ‘p’.

“Pretty sure I deserve some recognition, I could have just left that book on the floor for some other snotty-nosed kid to find,” Tony said indignantly, hand returned to his side.

“Well then don’t do it next time. I don’t give a shit, Stark,” Peter fired back, attempting to quell his progressingly noticeable butterflies.

Tony opened his mouth in a retort, but instead opted for an eye roll and spun on his heel. Probably to get back to his fancy 5 star penthouse, Peter thought bitterly. He headed to the bathrooms, diligently fighting his instinct to catch a glance of that ass. God, he was so, so gone.

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

Peter entered his apartment silently, not wanting to disturb May. He kicked off his shoes, deflating his suit and carrying the rest of his belongings to his room. Or, his cave, as May liked to call it. The 16 year old dungeon was another favourite of hers.

“May? ‘M home..” He trailed off when the bright Post-it note caught his eye. He frowned, peeling it off the bench and reading the bubbly handwriting. ‘Picked up an extra shift, be home tomorrow at 7! Sorry I couldn’t make it tonight kiddo xx’ Well. He could kiss his plans of venting to may goodbye, it seemed. Hot chocolate and a movie night still lifted his hopes, albeit less enthusiastic with no one to share it with now. The teen hummed the Star Wars theme song as he boiled the water and got his hot chocolate ready. He finished his task from earlier, dumping his stuff in an impossibly messy room that cleaning seemed impossible. There were things he didn’t want to uncover by doing so.

The TV flickered to life, selecting the chosen movie as directed by Peter. He sipped on his hot chocolate, swearing softly when the liquid burnt his tongue. It’d probably need to cool, considering the loss of feeling in his taste buds. The TV screen suddenly paused the movie, indicating the buffering icon as the infuriatingly slow loading bar popped up.

“For fucks’ sake…” Peter muttered, deciding to take a quick shower to pass the time. He didn’t bother getting clothes, seeing as he was the only one home. He padded to the bathroom, turning the shower on and watching as the water slowly began to produce steam. He then stripped, chucking his clothes into the overflowing hamper and stepping into the soothing water. He let it wash over him, adjusting himself to the temperature as he scrubbed himself with vanilla soap, the day’s events flicking hazily through his mind.

The teen looked down, noticing his growing hard-on. Maybe his thoughts about Tony had taken a...darker turn. He palmed himself half-heartedly, almost jolting when the spark of arousal ran through his body. He groaned softly to himself, putting more energy into pumping his hard on. His precum provided lubricant, his hand going up and down faster and faster until he was right on the edge and it felt so good, and-

Peter pulled his hand off, letting his erect cock bob helplessly in the air. He was breathing hard, not having reached his orgasm. It just...it didn’t feel right. He rubbed soap on his body again, his dick slowly returning to it’s normal size.

The shower came to a close after 15 minutes of staring at the wall, he may or may not have been thinking about a certain black head of hair, brown eyes flecked with gold, the body of a Greek god...maybe he lost track of time, but it was time well spent in Peter’s opinion. He towelled himself off with less energy, suddenly losing the motivation to actually dry himself off-probably because all his brain power was used trying to figure out a certain someone’s personality.

He plopped onto his nest of blankets and pillows, smiling when he saw the movie was ready to watch again. He hit play, content with the world at last.

That is, until some fucking idiot banged, not knocked, banged, on Peter’s door. He resolutely ignored it, turning the volume of the TV to max. Until, the banging didn’t stop. It just kept going. And going. And going-

“This better be a real good fucking reason,” Peter snarled, pausing his movie with more force than he probably needed to, and he stomped to the door.

The assault on the door didn’t stop, even when Peter yelled ‘Coming!’ to try and ease the banging. It did not succeed. He swung open the door, fuming, the epitome of annoyance as expressed on his face. He was ready to give this newcomer a piece of his mind, what, interrupting his fucking movie night, the audacity-

The words died in his throat as he looked up to launch a deadly glare, only to be met with chocolate brown eyes, flecked with gold, a soft pink cupid’s bow, the presence of stubble beginning to form a goatee, and oh wait, he’s seen this before, wait a minute-

“Tony?” He spluttered, taking a step back as he took in the scene before him. Tony, in a banged up suit he probably used as his transportation, his hand poised to bang at the door again. Tony’s expression mirrored Peter’s, a mixture of shock and confusion. Unlike Peter’s, Tony’s cleared quickly, and formed a new expression-one of almost desperation.

“Look, Parker, I’m sorry alright? I just...I need somewhere to stay tonight,” he rubbed a hand over his face, “forget it. I knew it was stupid to come, sorry for wasting your time I guess,” he muttered, already pivoting on his heel. Without his conscious consent, Peter grabbed Tony’s arm as he turned away. They both froze, neither knowing what Peter did.

“Wait, I...you can stay, Tony. You can come in, I just was watching Empire Strikes Back,” Peter ranted, gently tugging Tony inside. The latter seemed to be in a state of shock, obviously not expecting the positive response.

“Empire Strikes Back? You would be watching that, of all movies,” Tony snarked, recovering quickly from his bout of shock.

“You’re the guest, at least try to be nice,” Peter countered, blushing at the tips of his ears from embarrassment. He huffed, flopping onto his comfortable collection of pillows. He raised an eyebrow meaningfully at Tony, who looked a little out of place with his scratched suit. Peter was curious, but didn’t pry-there was obviously something that caused Tony to come in so suddenly.

“Being nice? To Parker? Talk to me when you have an achievable goal,” Tony grumbled, walking around to tour Peter’s apartment. Peter hoped it would be up to his standards. Wait, no he didn’t, Tony’s standards didn’t matter to him. At all.

Peter resumed his movie, soon becoming engrossed in the iconic plotline that he’d seen hundreds of times before, yet it never failed to make him excited. Tony watched his classmate from the shadows, the smile on Peter’s face contagious. His auburn curls, sharp jawline...Picture perfect Tony mused, as the lights from the movie danced across Peter’s angelic features. Tony shook his head, afraid of getting caught in the act-someone that beautiful would never return his feelings.

The depressing thought prompted Tony to emerge from the shadows, gliding over to where Peter was laying down and slumped nearby, resigning himself to the fact he’d have to watch this nerd movie. His suit whirred in the corner, fixing its own malfunctions as Tony had programmed it to.

“I don’t even know what the fuck is going on, Parker,” Tony muttered, the movie’s plot confusing him due to the lack of knowledge in previous films.

Peter just smiled, deciding it would take too long to explain the plot. Tony saw this, and a small smile spread across his face, too. It was nice to have a friend that just accepted you into their home, even if you had no explanation. Well, he couldn’t really tell the boy his explanation. Home was...a bit hard to go to at the moment, not that he’d ever tell Parker. He glanced at the serene expression on Peter’s face again, taking in the pure joy as he watched his seemingly favourite movie. Yeah, he was not gonna spoil that expression. Not ever.

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

The movie’s credits rolled, signifying the end of the movie night. Tony softly blew out through his nose, wondering if it would be overstepping to stay the night. Before he could dig a hole of despair within himself, Peter noticed his obvious inner battle. Deciding to put the rivalry behind him for now, he reached out to Tony, gently touching his arm and effectively grabbing his attention.

“We should head to bed...if you’re ok with that,” Peter murmured, gently tugging Tony’s arm as he stood up.

Tony sucked in a breath at sparks of pleasure that rippled through him as Peter’s hand lingered. He got to his feet, following Peter through the apartment, taking in the few decorations and pictures. He paused at an old picture of an obviously much younger picture of Peter, sitting on a man’s shoulders. He looked so...well, happy. Tony frowned; what had happened? Not wanting to intrude, he tucked the question away for later, and hurried to catch up with Peter.

“So, this is it. The humble abode, I guess,” Peter chuckled nervously, giving a dramatic wave with his hands. Tony looked around, taking in the worn twin bed, well-read books mounted on shelves that looked as if they could fall at any minute, the stained dresser, obviously the victim of many late-night hot chocolate spills. Tony could feel a slight smile tugging at his lips-this felt like Peter.

“Humble, huh. Didn’t know you were a Potter fan,” Tony smirked, gesturing at the aforementioned books. A red blush tinted the teen’s cheeks as he rushed to defend himself.

“I’ll have you know Harry Potter is a very famous series, thank you very much,” he huffed, crossing his arms. The following silence was comfortable, Peter rifling through his dresser as he looked for his pyjamas. He succeeded, muttering a soft ‘aha’ at the victory, and turned to head to the bathroom.

“Get yourself comfy, you can sleep wherever, couch or bed,” Peter stated, trying not to blush for a third time in an hour. He made quick work of changing, exiting the bathroom once he was satisfied with his appearance. A new toothbrush smacked Tony in the back of the head, credits of Peter.

“The fuck, Parker? Why couldn’t you just ask me to turn around,” Tony muttered, grabbing the toothbrush and making his way to the meager bathroom. He cleaned his teeth, checked his face for any signs of, well, outstanding blemishes, and once satisfied, returned to the bedroom. Peter was already in the bed, having turned off the lights and receiving a wave of sleepiness that he couldn’t refuse.

Tony hesitated before quietly sliding in beside Peter, careful not to touch him in hopes of keeping him comfortable. After all, this was Peter’s bed. He shifted, finding the proximity a little too...exciting.

Peter stirred, muttering something incomprohensive that sounded suspiciously like ‘Stop fucking moving,’ which Tony grudgingly obeyed. He found himself drifting sooner than he usually did; maybe it was the company that finally got his eyes to close, who knows. It just felt good to be cared about.

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

“Fuck, harder Tony,” Peter cried out, relishing the feeling of the flogger on his burnt ass, “please. Please Tony, ah!”

Tony whipped mercilessly, painting the teen’s ass and lower back a pretty scarlet colour. He knew Peter loved it, despite the whimpers of pain as he relentlessly assaulted his body, again and again.

“Little slut, begging for me to stop like a good little bitch. Ask me nicely, I might consider,” Tony snarled, drinking in the moans that came tumbling out of Peter’s mouth at the sentence.

“P-please, I promise I’ll be your good little cockslut, please just let me go,” Peter repeated, rolling his eyes back from pleasure. His cock twitched at the constant stimulation, begging for touch, but Peter couldn’t move, the restraints preventing him from relief.

Tony growled, pausing the flogging at 15 hits. “You better live up to that, whore,” he snarled, taking in the sight before him. Peter, bound to the bed face-down, bent over the back, ass on display. His petite frame quivered in anticipation, preparing for more of the flogging.

“Yes, Tony, I promise I’ll be good, no more,” Peter begged, too aroused to care how desperate he might sound. He jerked his hips forward, trying and failing miserably to acquire friction for his painfully hard dick.

Tony untied the restraints slowly, careful not to hurt his lover any more, now that the scene was over. Peter sobbed, reaching down almost immediately to try and relieve his aching cock. Tony slapped Peter’s hand away, taking the matters into his own hands.

“Such a naughty boy, trying to touch yourself without permission. What do we say?” Tony crooned, teasing Peter’s tip. The latter cried out, grinding against Tony’s hand in hopes of release.

“‘M sorry, so sorry, please, please let me-ah!” Peter abruptly cut off his rambling as Tony took him in hand, stroking along his length tantalisingly. Peter sobbed, crying out as the feeling grew. He centered in on the sensation Tony was giving him, pumping his dick with such earnest it was almost too much, the heat building in his lower abdomen, ready to burst-

Peter woke up with a start, acutely aware of his burning arousal. Oh. Oh shit. He just had one of those dreams...about Tony. Who was right next to him. Peter sucked in a breath, his eyes going wide. He calculated his options, quickly realising he couldn’t move without waking him up.

He cursed the lack of space in the bed, horror taking over as his arousal became too prominent to ignore. He whined softly into his pillow, at loss with how to deal with the predicament. How did things go so badly wrong so soon?

As if things couldn’t get any worse, Tony elicited a groan in the silence of the room and shifted to that his hip was pressed against Peter’s...problem. He unconsciously bucked into the stimulation, immediately regretting the action as Tony groaned again and moved, if possible, closer to his dick. Well, wasn’t this just amazing.

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

Tony awoke from his sweet abyss of darkness, groaning in annoyance. What had woken him up? He thought he’d heard a whimper, but that couldn’t be right. He shuffled closer to his warm pillow, which promptly moved back against him. Tony froze; pillows weren’t supposed to move. Pillows...also didn’t have a bulge. He recovered quickly, a smirk slowly growing when he realised what had happened here. Parker was hard. So, so hard.

Tony groaned again, this time intentionally shifting against Peter’s bulge to try and gauge how exactly this was going to play out. He was met almost immediately with a response as Peter grinded against him. Tony stifled a moan; it was insanely hot, how responsive Peter was. He was obviously trying to hold back, covering his mouth as he desperately sought relief against Tony. The latter helpfully shifted again, receiving a small squeak in response. Peter’s hand snaked down to his cock, unable to hold back anymore. Tony closed his eyes, savouring this moment-possibly the only time he’d get to be this intimate with his crush, even if he was ‘asleep’.

Peter palmed against his sweats, the pleasure making his breathing uneven as he neared his climax. He felt so bad for doing this with Tony in the same bed, but he was past the point of being able to control his movements. The pressure built up inside him like a spring coiled at it’s base, as he desperately rutted against his hand, when it all became too much-and Peter went rigid. The white-hot pleasure consumed his body, racking through him in wave after wave as he tried to silently ride out his orgasm. The spurts of come soaked his boxers, but Peter was too out of his mind to care as the high slowly came down. His breathing was hard and his sweats were cold and sticky, but the aftershocks of the orgasm jerked his softening cock.

The world slowly came back to him as Peter blinked a couple times, trying to orient himself. The first thing he thought was oh shit, now I’ll have to lie in this mess until Tony wakes up.

That is, until he realised a tiny detail. Tony’s back and hip was completely covered. In. Peter’s. Cum.

Peter looked up slowly, the horror beginning to consume him. His entire body froze when Tony looked right back at him.

[strawberrytheduck]

Belle Quacks-Chapter 13

(TW: Mental breakdown/self-esteem issues)

Quackerjack and Bushroot walked the girls home, Quackerjack still feeling protective and Bushroot just wanting to get to know Camellia better. “Thank you guys, for helping us.” The fox said, squeezing Bushroot’s leafy hand. Quacky gave a simple ‘no problem’ where as Bushroot stumbled over his words, saying how he was happy to help and that he was glad they were safe. “You certainly talk a lot, it’s cute. You’re sweet too.” She hummed, looking at the plant mutant. He blushed, his face turning a dark green. A smirk was present on the demented jester’s cheerful face, telling them to ignore him. Camellia asked him what plant he was and to tell her more about it, spurring a lecture that caused Belle to zone out and fall asleep. Quacky happily carried her, tuning out the plant nerds. Camellia seemed happy to talk to him, smiling warmly and running a hand through his petals once in a while. Bushroot never really got to talk like this for so long, not even with Rhoda. Camellia was a lot like her in some ways, smart, pretty and kind. She was also so different, being pagan, a mammal, multiple piercings, confident and strong. The florist was honestly the most beautiful person he’d ever seen and she didn’t mind him, she liked his company. “I really love your passion Reggie, it’s something I admire. This whole thing has been fast paced and chaotic but you’re definitely a highlight.” The mutant unlocked the door and opened it for her, opting to help with Belle. Camellia was fascinated to say the least, who could blame her? Bushroot was the closest being she ever met to a pagan deity, he was incredibly sweet and he was smart, she wanted more time with him.

Belle barely stirred when she was placed on to the bed, letting out a tiny yawn. Jack had to hold his beak shut to avoid squealing at his sister. Bushroot simply ‘awww’ed as he put the covers over her. She had a long day, she was entitled to some sleep. Quackerjack then pulled something out of his pocket, a plush version of himself and a note. He placed the note on the bedside table and the plushie in her arms. “I’m giving her a little me, that way she’ll always have a piece of me or something to cuddle during a breakdown or panic attack.” He stated, kissing her on the forehead. The small, sleeping duck pulled the plush closer to her, nuzzling it slightly. The taller woman chuckled fondly, smiling at the guys. Belle seemed happy and sleeping peacefully. Quackerjack then asked where she’d sleep, instantly pushing her closer to the bed when she said the couch. “I’m sure you’ve shared the bed before, just go to bed.” He insisted. She rolled her eyes, giggling. Bidding them goodnight, she kissed Bushroot on his forehead before joining Belle. The plant had to be dragged out by the other duck, who put the keys on the side, and shook him by the shoulders. “Earth to Reggie, I know you’ve been kissed by a woman you likely think is a goddess but get yourself together.” He said, tapping his friend. The botanist mumbled something, little flowers growing from his petals and around the base of them in a flower crown like formation. ‘Goodness, he’s helpless.’ The toymaker thought, giggling at his friend. Once Bushroot snapped out of it, he looked like a full on floral arrangement. “Well, you fell for her quick. So did Morgana when it comes to Belle. Come on, let’s go.” And with that, they left.

Camellia was already awake and gone when Belle woke up, not that she minded. She was admiring the Jacky plush in her hands, giggling to herself. It looked just like him, complete with a hat secured with Velcro and a very small Mr. BananaBrain in one of his hands. Naturally, she loved it, hugging it close and kicking her legs in the air. “My own little Jacky! Now I can ask you for advice! Cammy’s great but sometimes I think I overwork her.” She said to the cuddly jester. Her eyes caught sight of an envelope on the bedside table. She grabbed it, carefully opening it to retrieve the note. ‘Belle, I thought you’d like a cuddly version of me! A special, one of a kind toy from Quackerjack Toys, just for you! This way, I’ll be there when you need me, even if I’m not there in person. Little Jacky and his tiny friend are guaranteed to light up any dark times. Love Jackson.’ It read. The message was short but sweet, making her happier and love the little doll more. She never had toys growing up, then again, neither did Jack, making this one her first one. Belle swore she’d never part with it, it was her brother after all, just small and available. “So, I’m hanging out with Morgana later, does she actually like me?” The plush fell foward, which she took as a yes. The duck giggled happily, rocking side-to-side. She got up, flapping her hands a little before rushing over to her clothes in order to pick something nice to wear. Belle felt she had to impress Morgana and she didn’t understand why or why she always felt warm or that she had butterflies in her stomach when she was around the sorceress. Maybe she was coming down with something. But how could she from just standing in front of someone and be fine until she thought about them? “Is something wrong with me?” She whispered to herself, picking out a red dress with a black belt that she forgot she had. Morgana would love her in that outfit.

It was a little out of her comfort zone but she didn’t mind, it would impress the sorceress and that was what she wanted. She looked her new doll, a little confused. “Should I wear this? Would Morgana like it?” Jack fell forward again, cementing her choice. Maybe some red makeup? A little eye shadow would draw attention to her eyes Camellia would say. Once she had the dress on, she walked up to Camellia’s mirror and just stared. What is she thinking? This dress doesn’t look good on her at all, her hair is to childish and vibrant to make it look good. The dress was also more low cut and fitted than she was used to, drawing attention to her thin frame and collar bones. She looked sick. ‘This is a mistake, I can’t wear this. But nothing would be better, it’s too hot for my usual outfit. Morgana would want me to wear something like this, surely.’ Belle held back a sob, staring at herself still. ‘My arms look like sticks. Ugly sticks, not the cool ones. My ribs are visible, that won’t do.’ She was a little thinner than average, but not as thin as she thought. Her ribs didn’t stick out a lot, only slightly. But she couldn’t help but notice them and almost every detail of her body. Soon, Camellia came running in, asking what was wrong. The fox saw her friend, fists clenched, palm and fingers down on the desk. Tears spilled from her eyes as she bit her beak, her gaze on the mirror. “Oh Belle, come on, you look great.” Belle heard as she was pulled into a hug. “E-Easy for y-y-you to say, y-you always l-look beautiful.” She sobbed out. Camellia walked with her to the bed, sitting them down. She stroked her friend’s hair, whispering to her. Belle struggled to calm down, reaching for the plush of her brother.

Camellia handed it to her, kissing her forehead. “Hey now, you’re beautiful, wipe those gorgeous eyes, Sweet.” She cooed, tilting Belle’s head upward. The look on the duck’s face broke her heart, it was pure and utter despair. “M-Morgana would w-w-want me t-to wear this, r-r-r-right?” The poor, sweet little thing, she tried so hard. Camellia wiped Belle’s eyes for her, shushing her softly. “Oh Sweetheart, she’d want you to wear what you want, you shouldn’t wear something you don’t like.” She stood them both back up, holding Belle’s hand and bringing her to the mirror. The duck looked at her reflection, still slightly hazy due to left over tears. Camellia was out of the mirror’s frame, leaving her in it. She didn’t know what Camellia wanted her to see. “Tell me what you don’t like here.” Came the soft voice from next to her. “M-My arms, t-they’re twig-like. A-A-And my r-ribs are visible.” Camellia smiled sadly at her, explaining that it was on the inside that counts. That she, Morgana and the Fearsome Four absolutely adored her. That anyone staring was just jealous of her. She was gorgeous, inside and out in their eyes. “It is important, however, that you think you’re beautiful. Tell me, what do you think?” Belle took a deep breath before focusing on her reflection. ‘I shouldn’t wear form fitting clothes.’ A voice at the back of her mind said. “It’s different, that’s good.” She said, trying to ignore that voice. ‘You’re arms are sickly, you could snap them in half. And goodness, you look like a corpse.’ That was sort of true, she didn’t look all that healthy. Still, she didn’t look as bad as she thought. “I look kinda pretty.” She whispered. “I look pretty and confident in this dress. Does it go with my hair? No, but hey, I look good.” Belle said, steeling her resolve.

“See? You always look great, remember that.” Camellia said, hugging her. Belle hugged her back, giggling. She opted to skip the eye shadow, feeling it would spur another crying session and that she didn’t need it. She did put her hair in a ponytail though, putting on some obsidian and ruby earrings to match the dress. Morgana would love her regardless, she told herself. She walked into the main room and pouring herself some cereal, Plush-Jack sitting in her tote bag comfortably. Belle listened to the music from the TV as she ate, watching Camellia set up a spell of some kind. Apparently one that’s meant to bring happiness and overall good vibes if she remembered correctly. She picked up one of Camellia’s various romance books in order to not distract her friend from her daily meditation and also to stimulate herself as she ate. It was surprisingly easy to get into and the book was well loved, clearly one of Camellia’s favourites. A calming aura came over her, making her feel that despite the rocky start, today would be a good day.