#and his relationship w/ april is the best of it

[unexpectedbrickattack]

heehee (pepstavo under the cut)

[imababblekat]

Scars That Bind

**WARNINGS**: implied ptsd, scarring, angst (but w/ happy ending)

~~~~~~~~

@httpvomitello ,"Hi Hi, how are you? So I was wondering if you could do a one shot with Donnie x f! reader who is his girlfriend. It would be after the event of the second film, where she helps with the fight and everything. However, she ends up with a big scar on her back, but she never got around to revealing it to the others because she was ashamed to show it, and because of that, in those weeks she almost didn't let Donnie touch her, whether it was a hug or a kiss. Until one day, he accidentally sees the scar, and after her explanation, he comforts her and things get better.

A/N: oh boy this is much longer than i had planned it to be! hope y'all still enjoy though! im just gonna go cry in a corner after having written this ╮(T▽T)╭

~xXx~

It had been weeks, and yet the events of the Kraang attacks still effected you. Effected your life. It hadn't been as often as early on, but you still had nightmares. Still awoke sweaty and fearful from a nightmare that played out way differently and more devastating than how the real battle had ended victoriously. Well, mostly victoriously. Yes, the four ninja brothers you had helped and fought alongside went home with some new scars that they would no doubt proudly brandish, but the one you took home made you feel anything but proud. Anything but strong like how the turtles felt about theirs.

The large, healed but still freshly ugly wound across your middle back would be a forever reminder of how things could have gone terribly wrong for you that day. You were lucky to make it out alive in the end, but you had not only been physically scarred, but mentally as well.

What if you hadn't made it out of that slippery situation? What if it had happened and then Donnie, your everything, wouldn't have even known, to busy off fighting the big bad boss? How could you leave him, leave everyone, so suddenly in your foolishness to be more than what you were? A fragile human, trying to be a hero like her mutated boyfriend who had been training to fight his entire life?

The near death experience left you thinking and imaging the worst nearly every waking moment, and it seemed to effect more than just your lonesome. It had started to effect your relationship with Donnie. You can't remember the first moment it happened, but you remember every other time you had rejected his touches. The poor man couldn't get a kiss from you, much less a hug, and he had no idea why. The hurt in his eyes always tugged at your heart strings, but not as much as if he were to find out about the permanent alteration to your body.

If he found out, he would surely blame himself for not being there to protect you. Something you wanted him to not do. He along with his super brothers had more pressing things to be worried about, not a single human when they had the whole of New York on their shoulders. Your horrific dreams of death had also instilled in you that very great possibility of just how much danger you truly were in being with them. Yes, it was something that you had all known. April, Casey, and even Vern were just as in likely danger simply by being friends with the turtles, but no one really realizes the weight of something till it comes crashing down on them. Like it had to you.

If one day something happened to you, you didn't want to leave behind a deeply heartbroken and changed Donnie. Making distance would surely make such a casualty easier to deal with if there was nothing no longer there right?

Right?

You chocked on a sob, eyes screwed shut with clasped hands against your reddened face. The staggered cry quietly echoed off your bathroom walls, the only other sound being the slight slush of water in the tub you had planned to get into before you had caught a glance of the cursed marking on your back in the mirror. Now, you sat on the edge, trying your best to reason with your recent actions, but your heart and subconscious knew the truth and would not let you get away so easily.

Images of Donnie's hurt face only a couple hours ago still projected freshly in your mind. The pain in his eyes when you stepped back from his open embrace and rejected his goodbye kiss before you departed for home. You've seen the genius sad before, but never had you seen him so dejected. Knowing that you were the cause, hurt even more.

"But it's for his own good.", you sobbed aloud.

Than why did it feel so wrong?

Suddenly, something had fumbled and hit the tiled floor loudly, causing you to nearly jump out of your skin as you swiftly turned on the edge of the tub to see the last person you wanted to in this exact moment.

There, standing in the entrance straight as a pillar and eyes so wide they might pop out of his head, was Donatello. He had come to return back your phone, that of which he had called deciding it was finally time to talk about your standoff behavior towards him when it rang from the lair lounge. Now though, a call to work out the reason was no longer warranted, the off color patch of new skin and flesh on your back still crystal clear in his mind.

"I. . .", Donnie faltered, one usually a dictionary of speech, now speechless.

You on the other hand, were much more reactive. Your heart picking up pace, as you were quick to grab your towel and wrap it around, stepping out of your forgotten bath and racing to get out of this situation.

"I-I wondered if I had forgotten that, thanks Don, you can go-"

You had tried and failed to push your way past Donnie after swiftly grabbing your phone off the bathroom floor, but the turtle in purple was much faster and had grabbed hold of your arm just as you entered the hallway.

"How. . .how long have you. . .", Donnie swallowed, still struggling to find the words.

You felt your heart drop in your chest seeing the agony in Donnie's knowledgeable gaze.

"Donnie, please. . .", you mutter barely above a whisper, lip beginning to quiver.

"When you said you went to the hospital to check on a friend, did you really go for yourself?", he questioned, brows furrowed as he looked down at you, but you were careful to avoid his gaze.

You tried to pull your arm from his grasp, but Donnie held firm. He wasn't letting you go this time.

"(Y,n), please, I'm just trying to understand."

"There is nothing to understand.", you gritted out, angry with yourself for the tears that threatened to spill once again.

"How could you say that? You have a-"

"I know!", you finally snapped, glare flashing up towards Donatello.

Said turtle was stunned, but soon relaxed his expression, slowly letting go of your arm to take a step back. You cursed yourself internally, looking back to your hallway's carpet and holding yourself tight. A moment of tense silence befell the both of you, neither speaking and both refusing to look at the other. Your heart ached, and so did his, but it was not you who apologized first.

With a tight throat, Donnie was first to speak quietly.

"I'm sorry. . ."

"Don't say that.", you thought to yourself, another stinging pang shooting straight through your chest. Fighting back the urge to cry, you shook your head, chancing a glance at your slumped boyfriend.

"No. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled. It's just. . ."

Donnie looked up just as you looked down the hall, but your gaze was else where. It was a look he was all to familiar with, one he'd seen after terrifying incidents he and his brothers had experienced.

"Is that why you've been so distant?"

By that, you knew Donatello meant your scar.

The reference broke you, nodding as you started to sob and weep, new tears making new streaks down your face. Donnie muttered a quiet 'oh', opening his arms as you quickly crossed the short distance to fall against his plastron. The moment his strong arms wrapped around you, your heart had exploded, cries racking your body as you sobbed loudly, not caring if the neighbors heard. It had been so long since you had embraced each other, since you had been this close to the person you fell so deeply in love with, that the sensation of Donnie holding you felt as though you had finally returned home after an arduous journey across rough seas.

The entire time you cried Donnie stood cradling you, rubbing your arms softly and murmuring quiet whispers of "its okay" and "let it out" against the top of your messy hair. Neither of you knew how much time had passed, Donnie undoubtedly willing to hold you up if your legs no longer could, but soon you had calmed, only letting out shaking breaths and a few soft sobs here and there. Once you felt you had regained enough strength you gingerly used Donnie's strong plastron as leverage to push your self back, just enough to still remain close but also peer up into his worried gaze.

"I'm sorry Donnie. I never wanted to hurt you. I was so scared about how something happening to me would effect you, when I've been causing you that pain this entire time. I'm so, so sorry Donnie.", you choked out, feeling as though you were ripping off a band-aid and at the same time having heavy weights lifted from your shoulders.

"Oh, (y,n).," Donnie muttered, reaching up to move a strand of hair from your sticky, tear stained face. "I only wish I had realized sooner what you were going through. You shouldn't have faced this alone. I should have been there to help."

You bit your bottom lip, shaking your head slowly.

"No Donnie, that's exactly part of why I acted the way I did. I don't want you to blame yourself for what happened."

Donnie's grip on you tightened, a pit forming in his chest. That scar. It grabbed him by the throat and had him in a choke hold the second he stepped into your bathroom. When had you gotten it during the Kraang attack? Were you alone the whole time? How did you get such a wound?

Donatello had to be quick to stop his thoughts before they spiraled into picturing unsavory images of just how exactly you had been hurt. He hated it, this revelation that something seriously bad had happened to the person he loved and he wasn't there to do anything about it. If he'd lost you, he'd surely would have lost himself.

Leaning forward with tightly shut eyes, holding back his own tears for your sake, Donnie's lips pressed firmly to your forehead before slowly pulling back. His beautiful gold eyes found yours, a comforting smile gracing his features as you tiredly peered back at him inquisitively.

"Sorry, dove. I can't say that I won't, but I promise I'll try to as long as you promise me something."

"Anything, Donnie."

"Promise me that you'll always remember I'm here for you. That you can come to me about anything, and to please let me help fight your battles with you, just as you so bravely have done for me."

Your lips formed into a smile, the first genuine one in who knows how long. Your head fell against Donnie's strong chest once more, your arms squeezing him this time and feeling your soul being filled with a warm, positive feeling for once as the tallest ninja turtle returned your embrace with just as much love.

"I promise.", you spoke just above where Donnie's heart lay protected by plastron, the feeling of another gentle, loving kiss being placed against the top of your hair.

~xXx~

[mytheoristavenue]

TMNT 2012 Raphael Hamato x Reader 🍋 - Rough and Tumble

🥀 Commissioned by: @psypeachi

🥀 For questions about commissions, or to view full or partial commissions like this one, visit my Commission Diary for more info!

🥀 Part one here!

🥀 Divider belongs to @benkeibear

🥀 Summary: After dating Rap for almost a year, he begins to ache for you...

🥀 Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, smut, porn w/ plot, unprotected sex, creampie, face sitting, oral (m receiving), p in v sex, dirty talk, teasing, dom!Raph, sub!reader, fem!reader, first time, virgin!Raph, virgin!Reader

🥀 Word Count: 4,175

Your relationship with Raph had been an utter whirlwind up until this point, starting on that faithful night, lying in your bed eating pizza and dripping grease on your cocktail dress. Nearly a year had passed since then, and not a day went by that the two of you weren’t absolutely enamored with one another. Raph hardly ever spoke of anything but you, gushing to his brothers behind your back, even more excruciatingly often than Donnie had over April. He held you in the highest regard- you hung the moon in his eyes, but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been disappointed with the pace of things.

Though he’d never gathered the courage to profess it, Raph had an ache for you that no amount of kisses or cuddles could cure. He hungered- no, starved for you in a way that destroyed his sense of morality when he looked at you, blinking at his advances without a clue in the world. He felt endless guilt for the way he pictured your body and the unspeakable things he wanted to do to it, coupled with that innocent face you had. But the corruption was part of the fun. 

-----

“Honey!” you beamed cheerfully, strolling into the lair. “I’m home, and I brought you something!”

“Well, hello to you too,” Leo grumbled, playfully rolling his eyes as he sat in a beanbag, flipping through TV channels. 

“Sorry, Leo!” you rubbed the back of your neck sheepishly. “I didn’t even see you, I was just excited to see-”

“Raph, I know.” He chuckled. “So, what’d you  get him?” He asked, eyes never leaving the television. 

Excitedly, you hurried over to him, crouching down at his side and pulling the contents of the bag you had out. “Our anniversary is coming up, and Raph mentioned wanting to learn how to kickbox, so I got us matching gloves and kneepads! See?” You explained, showing off one of each pair of gloves. Both were ruby red, with gold stitching and embroidery. “I even got them monogrammed! Do you think he’ll like them?”

The eldest turtle gave a kind smile as he handed you back the gift. “I know it,” he confirmed with a nod, beginning to turn his attention back to the TV. “He’s actually in the dojo now, you should go give them to him.” Without another word or thanks for the encouragement, you were gone, throwing the door to the dojo open. Leo rolled his eyes at your antics, continuing to channel surf. “You’re welcome.”

“Hi, honey!” you chirped again, your eyes falling on your boyfriend, who, upon seeing you, gleefully dropped what he was doing to run over and scoop you up. 

“What’s up, baby?” He asked, pecking your lips as he set you down. “What’cha got there?”

“A present for you,” you teased, rocking from heel to toe. “Early anniversary gift.”

“Doll, you didn’t have to get me anything,” he sighed, taking the bag as you enthusiastically shoved it into his arms. 

“I wanted to, besides, it’s for both of us.” you snickered while he began to dig through the bag. 

“Oh my God,” he paused, shoulders slumping. “Baby, you didn’t-”

“I did.” You giggled, preparing for a hug of gratitude, which you immediately received. 

“Babe, you’re the best. I love you so much, thank you.” Raph praised into your hair, his head resting atop yours. Moments later, he broke apart from you, slipping the gloves over his hands, admiring the fit and look of them. 

“I got me a pair too, I thought we could learn to kickbox together!” you sang, dipping into the bag to fetch your own pair. 

“Baby, I don’t know what to say, this is awesome.” He gushed, watching you with a dopey, lovesick smile. 

“You don’t need to say anything, babe. But you can put up your dukes because I’m gonna kick your butt!”

-----

You did, in fact, not kick his butt. In fact, you hadn’t been able to land a single hit on him since you began sparring. Every punch you threw was redirected in a way that almost always landed you flat on your back, your lover looming over you with a cocky grin. Laid out on the mat for what you decided would be the last time, you huffed, growling as you shot up at him. 

“What’s the matter, dollface?” Raph taunted, peridot eyes playful but full of an emotion you couldn’t place. “Gettin’ mad?”

“No!” you shouted bitterly. “I was just going easy on you!” 

“Sure…” he laughed, turning his back on you, cracking his knuckles as he gloated. This was your opening. Gritting your teeth, you swept your leg out, kicking his feet out from under him before wrestling him to the floor. Before he could catch his bearings, Raph found himself in a headlock, your thighs squeezing the life from his throat as you twisted his arm and pulled it away from him.

“How’s that, huh?!” you hollered, pulling your meanest face. “You like that?!” Oh, did he. He never in his wildest dreams would’ve imagined you’d get him like this, and still be so oblivious to the effect you had on him at that. You took his silence as surrender, cheering for yourself as you rolled him into a new position, laying him out flat and sitting on his chest, arms pinned under your knees so he couldn’t escape. “Ha! I told you I was gonna kick your butt!”

Unbeknownst to you, Raph was coming undone beneath your weight, mind running free with all the most lewd ways he could take advantage of this. Ultimately, though struggling, he contained himself- that is, until you opened your mouth again, ruining his hardly-kept zen. “Not all big and bad now, are you?”

“Oh, baby, I’ll show your ass ‘big and bad’! C’mere!” With that and minimal effort on his part, you both were switched. You now laid beneath him as he straddled your waist, both of your wrists in a single hand as his other was planted firmly on your face, squishing your cheeks together. 

There was a pause as dead silence hung in the air, neither of you moving a muscle, only gazing into each other’s eyes. Within seconds, your lips crashed against his, giving him all the consent he needed for now. A few soft moans tumbled over your lips in the few instances that they were unoccupied, stirring his stomach further into oblivion. His hand left your face, trailing down, lingering at your throat a moment before continuing, caressing your curves. To you, he was feeling you up, but in reality, Raph was mapping you out, meticulously learning and memorizing every dip, ridge, and curve. 

A stir in the adjoined room made you both freeze, knowing that Master Splinter would punish you both to the fullest extent possible if he caught you making out in the dojo. Once all seemed clear, your beaux pulled you up from the floor before lugging you over his shoulder, much to your humiliation. “R-Raphael Hamato! You put me down this instant!” you scolded deaf ears as he continued to the door. “You are not carrying me like this in front of your brothers!” That was precisely what he was going to do.

-----

After what could only be described as a walk of shame, you were escorted to his bedroom, where you were immediately tossed on his bed. “W-Wait-” you halfheartedly protested. 

“I’m sorry, babe,” he huffed, backing up a bit. “Guess I got kinda carried away.” he laughed sheepishly, crawling closer again. “I just…I get so riled up when I’m with you, especially when you’re on top of me like that- Fuck, you just look so pretty.”

Though it wasn’t uncommon for him to compliment your looks, the way he said it made you feel like it was the first time hearing it. It felt just like how he showered you with praise that first night. 

“Y-You think I’m pretty when I sit on top of you..?” you repeated, more to hear it from your own lips than to have the statement clarified. He simply nodded in response, eyes glued to your lips, leaning in as if he wasn’t actually in tune with the world around him.

“The prettiest, baby,” he muttered, capturing your kiss again, crawling between your bent knees to loom over you like before. “So so fuckin’ pretty…”

“Raph, you’re making me nervous…” you confessed between kisses. “You’re not usually this forward…”

For a moment, he backed away again, the image of you rejecting his advances flashing through his mind. Mossy eyes peered up into yours, searching for anything to indicate emotion, but fell short- you were so conflicted. On one hand, you’d never had much sexual experience, and the thought of potentially being a bad lay terrified you. You’d heard stories of boys dumping girls due to lack of experience, and no matter how close you two were, that fear was nearly impossible to shake. Though, on the other hand, it was hard to ignore the way his praise made you melt like you were digesting magma- so was the way your legs shook at the prospect. 

“Sorry…” he finally sighed, out of breath while his fingers absent-mindedly gripped at any bit of you they could reach. “I’m not tryna’ make you uncomfortable but,” he paused, breath hitching in his throat as he pictured you. “Baby I want you, so so so bad.”

The revelation left you reeling, fuzzy-headed with tummy churning. Suddenly, everything was so clear. It all made sense, the positions you find yourselves in, the way he’d shower you with compliments so close to your ear you could hardly hear them. “Y-You…” you trailed, breathing labored, and stuck in your windpipe. “Want me...?”

Raph sighed, finally you understood how he burned for you. “Yes, baby. I want you real bad. You have no idea the shit I wanna do to you.” Seeing you ease into the idea, he took the liberty of lifting your hand, planting kisses up your arm. He thought it’d be a romantic way to gently push forward, but all that went out the window when he heard you softly whimper:

“Show me how bad…?”

In an instant, he was on you, kissing your lips roughly, guiding your arms around his neck while he slowly began to trail down your jaw. This wasn’t the first time you’d made out to the point of fondling and drooling all over each other’s throats but this time was special- you could feel it. You whined under his touch as his cold fingers inched up under the hem of your shirt. Writhing at the sensation, you instinctively arched your back in a vain effort to be closer to him. Chuckling at you, he slipped an arm under your back, holding you against him as he gnawed at your flesh, leaving mild bruises peppered along your neck and should as he went. “Oh, Raph…” you cried, overwhelmed by the lust bubbling inside you.

“Love it when you say my name like that,” he purred into your collarbone. “Fuck, I wanna do everything to you…”

“Tell me…” you whispered, barely audibly. “Tell me all the dirty things you think about…” 

Raph shuddered, hearing those words in your voice as he buried his face into your shoulder. “Wanna taste that sweet pussy of yours, fuck this throat,” he groaned, fingers ghosting over your flesh, threatening to choke you. “Want you to ride me ‘til the sun comes up.”

“Is that all?” you muttered, struggling to keep a confident face as his words hit straight to your womb. 

“Not even close, baby.” He smirked against your skin. “Want you every way.”

Sitting up against him, you began to shift positions. You were tired of laying there, letting him do all the work- you needed to show that you wanted him equally so. “In that case,” you said airily, popping up on top. “I'm all yours, baby.”

-----

Raph was beginning to feel a sting in his bottom lip, having now definitely broken skin. Biting it was the only thing he could do to keep himself together. His fingers had tangled themselves in your hair as one arm rested behind his head for support. You’d never thought he’d be so vocal when experiencing pleasure, but there he was, lounging in bed, moaning, whining, cussing, and praising all at the same time. It made you sticky knowing you were doing this to him, reducing him to putty in your hands- or rather in your mouth. 

It had taken you a minute to get the hang of this, and a few directions from him, such as “A-Ah, no teeth baby- fuck yeah, that's it!” but you felt like you were a pro at this point. Diligently, your head bobbed you and down nearly his full length, only stopping when your nose smooshed against his shell or his tip tickled the back of your throat. 

“Oh my God, you’re so fuckin’ good at this, baby.” he groaned guiding your head gently. “Taking this dick like a fuckin’ champ.” You hummed in response, loving his praise and how you made him feel. “Can’t wait to eat up that little pussy, gonna make you feel so good, baby.”

Jaw tired, you decided to take his talkativeness as an opportunity for rest, pulling off him with a pop. Instead, you nuzzled your face against his crotch, languidly pumping him in your fist. “Tell me how you want me baby.” you cooed, peppering kisses along his shaft.

“Fuck, you're gonna make me cum if you keep talkin’ like that…” he groaned, bucking his hips up, missing the warmth of your mouth. 

“I better stop then…” you teased lustily, halting your motion altogether and releasing your grip just enough so all he could feel was your fingertips and palm ghosting against him. 

“Baby, don’t do this to me,” Raph whined, eyes screwed shut and breathing heavily. “Damnit, I was so close.” You peered down at him, a mischievous smile playing on your lips as you stifled a giggle. It felt amazing to be in control of him after all this time. The power was intoxicating, that was until he grew tired of your taunts and ripped it away from you.

-----

All you could do was scream, hoping nobody else could hear your hysterics as your hips bucked, begging for amazing friction. You were now reduced to ankle socks and a bra, pushed up to reveal your bouncing breasts. Completely naked from the waist down, you now sat, knees on either side of his head, riding his face. The way his tongue worked you was overwhelming, bringing tears to your eyes, as you sobbed for him. “O-Oh my God, Raph-! I-It feels so-!” You were hardly able to form coherent thoughts, let alone sentences. “Good!”

Beneath you, Raph burring himself between your thighs, tongue parting your labia and suckling on your swollen clit like it could have been his last meal, moaning the entire time. You were delicious, sweeter tasting than he could’ve possibly imagined. He was addicted to the lack of air, suffocated with your needy heat. It was enough to make him absent-mindedly rock his hips with the rhythm of yours. He might have touched himself had it not been for the grip his hands had on your hips that he was unwilling to part with.

The feeling came upon you so suddenly that you almost didn't recognize it. It wasn’t like when you’d done things by yourself, there was no build-up, no knot snapping taught. It was as if he’d pushed a button that instantly sent you over the edge. “B-Baby!” you shrieked, almost frightened of the spontaneous intense wave of pleasure washing over you. “I-I think I’m-!” Before you could finish your decree, a long, cracking, needy croon was fished from your throat as you rode out the sudden orgasm. 

“Yeah, that’s it, baby girl, let it all out,” your lover encouraged, voice muffled as he continued to work you through your high. “Cum all over my face, pretty-pretty.” You did as he commanded, doing nothing to stop your sweet cream from glazing his mouth and cheeks. Exhausted and emotional, you slid down him and your shoulders slumped as you put your weight in your palms, resting them on his chest. “God, you’re so fuckin’ pretty when you cum.” He smirked, rubbing your thigh comfortingly. 

“You need a minute, baby?” He asked, smiling gently up at your flushed face. To his surprise, you urgently shook your head in protest. 

“N-No! I’m not done.” you decided, sliding down his plastron. “I wanna go all the way with you…” Your answer stunned him a bit and his smile faded. 

“Are you sure, doll? You look pretty tired.” he rationalized. “If we stop here, I won’t be mad, I’ll just finish myself off later.”

Your heart melted at his concern for your comfort, but you still refused. “No,” you huffed, mounting his lap. “I wanna feel you inside me,” You could feel his cock stiffen against your overly sensitive clit, making your hips twitch on contact. Suddenly, a tear slipped from your pleading eye and you looked into him needily. “Please, Raphael…” He tensed, you only used his full name when it was urgent. “I need you to make love to me…”

-----

Initially, the anguish was nearly unbearable, forcing him to pull out several times, but eventually, you got used to the full feeling, only needing now to overcome the sting. Raph was a perfect gentleman throughout, staying perfectly still unless instructed otherwise, and letting you take the lead. “T-Touch me, please…” you begged, needing some sort of distraction from the pain. His palm quickly found your breast, groping and admiring it with one hand while the other stayed on you, keeping you firmly planted against him. 

“You have the nicest body, (Y/N)...” he soothed, brushing a thumb over your perked nipple. “Perfect tits, smooth skin, pretty face,” he rambled on, showering you with compliments, waiting for your face to unwrinkle. When it didn’t he thought of something else. “Here, doll,” he cooed, taking both hands off you to guide yours up to your chest. “Play with these for me, ‘kay?” You nodded, obediently fondling yourself with little shame. One hand found its back home on the hump of your hip, while the other came up to your lips, prompting you to wet the fingers. You did so, parting your lips and sucking both thick digits before watching them sink between your thighs. 

Soothed by the aid, you hardly even notice when you’d begun to rock your hips, seeking more stimulation against your clit. At first, the movement was minuscule, but soon, you bounced enough to feel his tip bottom out, making you shriek. Beneath you, Raph groaned gutturally at deep penetration and the way you clenched around him when surprised. As if everything fell into place at once, you nodded, ready to officially begin. Wasting no time, he began pumping into you at a painfully slow pace with deep, meaningful strokes. 

You hated this, though you couldn’t place why. It was like he was teasing you going so slowly. “R-Raph…faster…” you whimpered, hands roaming your own body. That was all the consent he needed to kick it up a gear, clamping both hands on your hips and picking up pace to a steady rhythm. Before you knew it, you were on cloud nine, bouncing yourself in time with his thrusts, gaining momentum and speed as time drug on. 

“Ahhh,” he sighed, brows knitting together. “Yeah, baby just bounce on my cock, you know just what to do, don’t you?”

“Uh-huh,” you mumbled, lost in never before felt pleasure.

“You love riding my dick, don’t you princess?” He asked, breathing heavily, trying to distract himself from cumming too early from the excellent squeeze you offered. 

“Yes, sir.” you replied with a breathy moan, head thrown back in pleasure. 

“How much?” he pressed, the pace picking up to breakneck speed as he brutalized your cervix. 

“So fucking much!” you gasped, nearly screaming at the tension building inside as he pounded into you.

“Tell me how much you love riding this dick, baby,” he demanded. “C’mon and be a good girl and tell me,” 

Humiliation bubbled inside of your stomach in a way that fueled your fire. Face beet red you shyly muttered: “I-I love…r-riding your dick…” Suddenly, all stimulation ceased and Raph fell as still as the eye of a storm. Looking down, you panicked, slightly annoyed. “W-What? Why’d you stop?” He ignored you, a cocky grin playing on his lips. “G-Go, please!” you begged, even trying to lift yourself off of him to bounce on him again, but his grip on your waist held you cemented to him, but still starving. “W-What gives, babe? Please go!”

“Louder.” 

“W-Wha-?” you blushed impossibly deeper, confused and frustrated to bits. 

“Say it louder,” he repeated unrelenting. 

“Raph-!” you squealed, clicking the pieces together. “Enough games, please!” You continued to struggle against his grip to fuck yourself on his cock, to no avail. 

“I’m not gonna finish fucking you until you scream for me.” he flirted darkly. “I want everyone to know who makes you feel this good.” You resisted further, before finally giving in. 

“I-I love riding your dick…” you said, nearly in a normal speaking voice. Still, he refused to move. 

“What’s that? I couldn’t hear you?” He teased, leaning closer as if to hear you better. 

“I said I love riding your dick!” barely shouted, relieved to feel the very slightest friction. 

“One more time, with feeling and I’ll give it to you so good,” he promised, shallowly rocking his hips. “One more time, baby, loud and proud for me.” 

“Please fuck me baby, I love riding your fucking dick!” you finally cried out, gritting your teeth and screaming lewdly into the air when he started again, pounding into you harshly.

“Atta girl!” he purred, locking in on finishing you for good.  “You’re so good for me, aren’t you, princess?”

“Y-Yes!,” you gasped, both to the question and just as a general statement. “Yes, yes, yes yes, oh, right there!”

“Fuck baby,” Raph crooned, his toes curling as tension built in his stomach. “You feel so damn good.” As if on cue, he shuddered, coming undone even more quickly upon feeling your messy hole clench around him.

“G-God, Raph, I’m so close!” you wept, slopping rutting your hips against his. “I-I’m gonna-!” Words tumbled over your lips, but the capacity for thought had long since dissolved, only being replaced with a lust that would permanently alter your brain chemistry. 

Laid out under you, Raph was in a similar state, mind fogged by your visage and feel and the fact that he had you all to himself. “C-Can’t believe you’re all mine,” He mumbled through gritting teeth and furrowed brows. “Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine-” He began to chant in tune with his brutal thrusts until finally, he tipped over the edge with a string of obscenities.

Likewise, you’d also been reduced to less than coherent speech, simply moaning and whimpering, having entirely given up talking dirty. You could feel it when he came- the bruising grip his fingers had on your thighs, the ache in your tummy from how he’d rearranged your guts, even the warm spurt that filled any gaps his cock hadn’t been able to occupy. Not that you could put two and two together, too focused on your own orgasm as it just began to breach.

The sensation rocked you, filling you with a buzzy warmth you’d never been able to achieve before. It felt so special to feel this for the first time with someone you loved, you thought as you came down from your high, still seeing white. Absent-mindedly, your hands blindly searched for his, unsure for a moment if it had been a dream. You were relieved to feel his large hand envelope yours, softly caressing your fingers with his thumb.

“I’m right here, baby,” he soothed, almost as if he’d read your mind. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere.” You smiled at this, tiredly pushing against him to give just enough space for his softening member to flop out of you. You shuddered at the empty feeling and the way his seed leaked out of you in what felt like gallons. Not caring enough to clean up right away, you simply laid ontop of him, head resting just under his chin. 

“I love you…” you said, as less of a reminder than a need for validation in your fragile state.

“I love you too, dollface.” he sighed, petting your hair. “Thanks for trusting me.”

“Mhmm…” you hummed in response, threatening to nod off. 

“Think this’ll happen again?” he wondered aloud, propping his head up with a bent arm. 

“Maybe…” you replied softly, secretly wishing he’d shut up and let you sleep already. 

“Well, if it does, we should probably use a condom next time.”

🥀 Thank you so much for reading, please like, reblog, comment, and follow for more content! If you enjoy my TMNT content, consider checking out my other works here!

Taglist:

@sunshinesdaydream @helpyaw @thelaundrybitch @momii @camillahorne26 @turtle-babe83 @fyreball66 @sharpwindow @roseygardenfarm-blog @witchofthenorthstar @pheradream-15 @post-apocalyptic-daydream

[jgracie]

APRIL SHOWERS BRING MAY FLOWERS

masterlist | rules

❝ Hiii how are you?I love your blog,can i please request Leo x fem!reader where she is a daughter of Demeter(no one writes for my mother😭)and she gives him flowers?Like it’s the first time that someone gives him flowers and he so in love with reader?Thank you so much and have a great day🌸🌸🌸 ❞ — anon

in which honeysuckles, orange blossoms and white carnations barely scratch the surface of your love for leo

pairing leo valdez x demeter!reader

warnings none:)

an the demeter cabin has their own personal garden in this. they have one in any of my fics mentioning actually just because i said so LOL also i lowkey hate this idk why sorry in advance

Ever since you were young, you’ve loved the transition between April and May. Days spent indoors as you yearned for a moment in your mother’s domain, the heavy rain reflecting your mood and dampening your spirits, turned into ones where you’d devote your time to harvesting crops and admiring the beautiful flowers, carefully snipping them as different combinations for bouquets flooded your mind

You should be happy right now, since it’s the first week of May. Flowers have begun to bloom and blossom all around you, and your siblings organised a spring festival in celebration. You love everything about spring. However, there was someone you loved more

You and Leo only started dating a few months ago, after about a year of pining, and at first your relationship couldn’t be better. Leo’s so, very sweet and incredibly doting, always checking on you and making gadgets to help with your gardening before you even thought about needing them. However, recently, you couldn’t help but notice how you saw him less and less

In the beginning, he just wouldn’t show up for breakfast, or show up late on the days he did grace you with his presence, and you didn’t think much of it, knowing how busy he tended to get with his machinery. As time progressed, he started skipping dinner too, and capture the flag, and then you stopped seeing him altogether

You thought leaving him alone would fix it - not wanting to come off as overbearing - but now you began to wonder about what this meant for your relationship. Was he doing it on purpose so he could see you less? Had you done something wrong to make him feel this way? Sure, you teased him from time to time, but that was very minimal, and you always made sure he was aware you didn’t mean any harm

Whatever you did, you wanted to set things right. So, in the first week of May, instead of preparing for the spring festival with your brothers and sisters, you made Leo a gift. You weren’t going to force him to forgive you, of course, but the idea of hurting him was really weighing on your heart so you decided to show him you loved him in the best way you knew: flowers. You walked around the gardens outside your cabin, delicately picking out the flowers you were going to put in your bouquet for Leo. Once you’d done that, you picked some fresh fruits for him, hoping he was sustaining himself well

You waded through the forest with a basket of fruits in one hand and a bouquet wrapped with the best tulle and ribbons your cabin could offer in the other. Your heart was just about ready to beat out of your chest, partially due to excitement, partially due to worry

Once you got to Leo’s humble abode (because we all know this boy probs sleeps there more than he sleeps in his cabin don’t play w me rn), you took a deep breath, then knocked on the door

“Come in!” Leo yelled. Carefully, you opened the door and made your way inside, your nose scrunching at the smell of gasoline and Gods know what else. Leo’s back was facing you, but just seeing the mop of curls on his head made your heart flutter. You really missed your boyfriend

“Hey Leo,” you greeted him, absentmindedly playing with the vines that were beginning to grow out of your head - a sign of your nervousness. At the sound of your voice, Leo smiled and decided to finally take a break from all the tinkering he was doing. The vines that tangled with your hair slowly began to disappear as you took in his expression

He patted his lap, and you went to sit there without any hesitation, your body desperately craving his touch. Leo nuzzled into the crook of your neck, taking in the smell of fresh flowers that clung to you, “missed you, amor,” he mumbled, suddenly feeling awfully sleepy. You ran your fingers through his curls, detangling them as you wallowed in the silence that hung between you

“I missed you too,” you said after a little bit, unable to stay quiet anymore, “I’m glad you’re not mad at me.”

At the last bit, Leo looked up, his brows knitted together in clear confusion, “why would I be mad at you? You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

The vines started growing again, “well… I rarely ever see you anymore, you’re always here. I thought maybe you did that on purpose because you didn’t wanna see me,” instantly, Leo knew he messed up. He was so busy spending time with his machines that he forgot about you - his lovely, sweet forest fairy

Tenderly rubbing your arm, Leo said, “I’m sorry I made you feel that way, baby. I could never be mad at you, really! You could blow up this whole place and I still wouldn’t be mad,” he got quiet around the end, distractedly fiddling with your fingers

You pulled your hands away from his and cradled his face, taking his appearance in. He was still your Leo, but you could tell he was exhausted. Bags hung under his sleepy eyes, making you want nothing more than to take him to bed, to tell him that it’s okay to take a break and that no one was going to get upset at him if he took a second to think about himself

At that moment, with your palms on his face and your soul in his heart, you remembered the gift you’d prepared for him, which you’d left on a nearby table earlier. Hopping off of Leo’s lap (and startling him in the process), you picked up the bouquet and basket and presented them to him

“I got you these! Fresh from our gardens,” maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t seen you in a while, or the fact that your shy smile seemed to be blinding him, or the fact that no one had ever thought of getting him a bouquet of flowers before, but as Leo took your presents in, he felt tears prick his eyes 

You, being the observant, kind-hearted girl you are, noticed this, “hey, what’s wrong?” You asked, making your way over to him and handing him his gift, which he gratefully accepted and took a second to admire as he blinked his tears away. Leo has always been in love with you, but at that moment, his heart was about to burst with it all. He couldn’t believe he willingly cooped himself up in bunker nine, knowing full well who awaited him outside of it - his daylight

“Nothing’s wrong, amor, I just really really missed you, and I don’t think anyone’s ever even thought of getting me a pretty bouquet of flowers, let alone gone through with it,” at this, you felt your heart break. You knew of the struggles Leo went through, having been a shoulder for him to lean on when he thought he was stuck being an extra wheel forever: always the best man, never the groom, but hearing him voice these thoughts made it even worse

“Well… you deserve them. You're the best boyfriend a girl could ever ask for, Leo, don’t doubt that for a single second,” you said, an unwavering confidence in your voice

After that day, Leo always kept a flower in bunker nine, right in front of where he worked, so you’d always be with him. He also invested in a clock so he’d actually be able to tell when one day ended and the other began, never wanting to leave you by your lonesome again

[nolita-fairytale]

comfort & chaos | carmy berzatto x fem!reader | chapter five: called you again

summary: you and carmy try your best to repair the relationship... but it only leads to distance. you both make the mistake thinkin' the other is better of without you. (the five times carmen berzatto fell in love with you a little and the one time he finally told you)

warnings: angst, death, grief, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns, drinking & smoking, suggestive language

word count: 3.5k

listen to: supercut - lorde | speechless - lady gaga | call me back - young the giant | called you again - lizzy mcalpine

a/n: while i felt like i was dropping an emotional bomb on you with the last chapter, i didn't know it would have such an emotional impact. i just wanted to share that i write so much from my own experiences -- perhaps why some of the chapters feel so realistic. anyways, thank you for all of your kind words in regards to the last chapter. i didn't want to write the phone call, since after this part, 'make my heart surrender' begins / i write a bit of it in that story / it really made for a spicy dramatic ending.

on another note: it's me, hi! i broke my own heart writing this. high key like... i feel like i'm going through a breakup right now (i'm not). the next part will be a big time jump: it takes place after right after 'make my heart surrender' ends, where reader has just moved to chicago for carmy so you'll be glad to hear that i'm done hurting you and myself.

read: chapter four

April 2022 

“Seriously, Carmy. I can’t thank you enough. You really saved the day,” Maya harps, reminding Carmy for the 100th time today that he single-handedly saved Passover. 

“It’s nothin’ really,'' Carmy mumbles with a shrug. “I’m uh… gonna finish cleaning up in the kitchen. Shouldn’t take long.”

“Sure I can’t help?” Maya asks, giving him one last chance to say ‘yes.’

“No, it’s all good. I got a whole system,” he explains, a reassuring look in his eyes. 

“Of course,” Maya replies, bowing out of the conversation. 

She walks through her home towards the open double terrace doors that lead out onto the patio. You’re outside, shifted to one side of the large outdoor dining table, your focus unbroken as you stack empty plates, one on top of the other.

“Hey,” you say to her, a warm nostalgia about the way the spring air kisses your bare shoulders. 

“So… Carmy really came through,” she starts, watching you for your reaction. 

“Yeah, he did,” you reply simply, as if it’s just fact.

Maya half expects for you to say more, but she knows it’s been weird between the two of you since you slept together. She’s not sure why, but she’s always rooted for Carmy. Perhaps because you light up every time he’s around – every time you talk about him. Perhaps because she sees the way he looks at you, especially when he thinks you’re not looking. Because, even though he’s deeply imperfect, you’re good for him – and he, you. 

“It’s all for you, you know,” she says, growing bolder in her reminder. 

Her words stop you in your tracks. You stop working on the pile of dishes you’re creating, taking a moment to look up at your friend. 

“Why do you think that?” you ask quietly. 

“Because he took the night off to be here,” she answers, checking to make sure Carmy isn’t listening. “I mean, when have any of us seen him take any time off? He’s not doing it for me. I just think… it seems like he’s really making an effort to mend things.”

You nod slowly, processing what she’s just said. Carmy, in an effort to try to mend things, had joined you for a drink with some of your mutual friends from the restaurant. As Maya had lamented about the caterer falling through for her Passover dinner, he’d more than eagerly offered to step in, surprising all of you. 

“Maybe,” you shrug, trying not to get your hopes up. “I don’t know. It’s still not the way it used to be.”

“Well of course it’s not!” Maya exclaims with a laugh. She sighs out your name, shaking her head as she continues. “You guys are… of course that would change things.”

“I think it’s just going to take a while…” you explain, your voice soft. “I uh. I should take these in.”

You collect your pile of dishes, heading back inside into the kitchen. You know you’re avoiding having the conversation with Maya, but the distance between you and Carmy has been so tough on you. It wasn’t until you took some space from him that you realized just how big of a part he’d been playing in your life. And now, he was grieving, and you’d both crossed the line that had complicated things. 

It all just felt… messy. 

As you enter the kitchen, you see Carmy standing there. He’s staged the kitchen for the most efficient dishwashing: one half of the sink is filled with to sanitize, the other to rinse, before loading up the dishwasher. You place the first stack of plates down on the kitchen island, making a sound that doesn’t even seem to grab Carmy’s attention. He doesn’t turn to you, doesn’t acknowledge the sound, so you decide to keep moving things in from outside instead. 

You’ve managed to get all of the dirty dishes from the terrace into the kitchen, Carmy giving you a nod as he’d instructed you to place them down on the counter for him. 

You put your focus on packing up leftovers in deli containers and making sure all the food that needed to be has been put away. Carmy’s loaded up the dishwasher but he’s got at least a dozen wine glasses that he knows need to be hand washed. You notice that he’s taking a break, pushing yourself to ask him, as if it’s going to be your only chance to.

“How are you?” you say, instantly regretting it as the words come out of your mouth. 

He shrugs, unsure of how to answer the question, leaning up against the kitchen counter. You think it’s the only answer you’re going to get as he crosses his arms across his chest. You continue packing up the equipment that you and Carmy have brought over, while he manages to steal a few glances when he thinks you’re not looking. 

He’s not sure what to say. 

Hell, he doesn’t even know how he feels about it. 

But something inside him is begging him to tell you – as if telling you will give him some kind of resolution. Like he’ll know what to do. Like telling you will bring him the comfort he’s so desperately been craving. 

He opens his mouth to say something, noticing that you’ve kept yourself busy – almost as if you’re trying to stay out of his way. 

He hates this. 

He hates that you feel you have to tiptoe around him. 

“Mikey left me the restaurant,” he confesses, the words tumbling out of his mouth like five hundred pounds of bricks. 

“Oh wow,” you gasp, taking in what he’s said. 

He nods, pausing before he speaks again. And it’s the first time he’s said it out loud to anyone:

“I think it’s time for me to go home.”

You don’t say anything back, because you’re not sure what to say back. You know he hadn’t gone home for the funeral, despite your insistence.

Why now? What did this mean? What would this mean? And when did he find out about the restaurant? You can’t help but feel like everything's falling apart, like this is the end. While you know he has to go home – you’re honestly surprised it’s taken him so long to come to this conclusion – it’s impossible not to feel your heart shattering into pieces. 

Carmy was going to leave. You were going to stay. And you didn’t know where that left the two of you. 

“Can I help – with the wine glasses?” you ask, focusing on the task at hand. 

Focusing on the glasses may be the only thing that keeps you from crying. 

“Yeah,” he nods, and you know it’s his way of trying to connect. 

You work quietly, the only sounds in the background are the dinner party playlist that’s playing on a loop through the home’s speakers. You wash and Carmy dries, knocking out the remaining dishes that need to be hand washed, before packing up to go. Maya, of course, thanks Carmy again and again, while her partner, Patrick, compliments the meal, letting Carmy know he’s got to get some cooking tips from him. 

As the two of you walk out of the door, brown paper bags loaded up with empty delis and equipment that you brought over to the house, Carmy stops before either of you can go your separate ways. 

“Can I walk you home?” Carmy asks you, a hopeful look in his eyes. 

You nod, “Yeah.”

May 

Hope you’re doing okay. How’s home?

It’s about the third text you’ve sent to Carmy since he left New York. After letting you know he’d made it safely, you hadn’t heard from him at all. Sure it’s only been a couple of weeks, but it’s like as soon as he let you know he’d made it safe, he’d cut you off cold. To say that you’re angry would be an understatement. 

You’re really fucking pissed off. 

And you also know that underneath all that anger, is a fuck ton of hurt that you’d really rather not acknowledge – that you’re not ready to feel yet.

You don’t know how he’s able to turn it off – just pretend that the last two and half years haven’t been significant. That you haven’t practically been attached at the hip since the lockdown. That you’re not best friends who also just so happen to maybe be in love with each other. 

Somehow, Liz has coaxed you out after a long night at the restaurant for a round of drinks with your coworkers. Something about a need to blow off some steam. Only a round has turned into many, and you just might have had one too many to forget about the searing pain you feel when you think about the fact that you may never hear from Carmy again. You’re waiting for your next drink at the bar, making a mental note that this has to be your last. 

“How’s Berzatto these days?” you hear a voice ask, turning your head as you realize someone’s joined you at the bar. 

“Uh.. yeah, I think he’s been really busy. You know… with the family restaurant. Getting adjusted, you know?” you lie to Nate, pretending that you’ve been in contact with him. 

Nothing would sting more than to admit to Nate fucking Walker that Carmy’s ghosted you. 

Nate laughs cooly, with a shake of his head. 

“He hasn’t called you, has he?” he asks. 

You don’t answer. But your silence is the only answer Nate needs to confirm his suspicions. 

“Listen, can we just talk about something else?” you dismiss him, watching as the bartender returns with your drink. 

The rest of your friends have started a game of pool, but you’re not in the mood for it tonight. Nate asks you to sit, so you do. You hate to admit it, but the attention feels nice, especially with how much you miss Carmy. It burns in your chest tonight, leaving you breathless. You’d rather be numb than feel this much pain. 

You’re not sure how the conversation turns back to Carmy after an hour or so of conversation with Nate. Even though you said you didn’t want to talk about him. Even though you can see that Nate’s tired of hearing about him. You can’t help yourself when it comes to Carmy. Every little thing reminds you of him, and he just keeps coming up like word vomit. 

“I thought you said you didn’t want to talk about him,” Nate reminds you. 

You shake your head, “I don’t!” 

Nate shoots you a look, before shaking his head, making sure to polish off the last of his drink. 

“He’s an idiot,” Nate scoffs with an eye roll. 

“Don’t say that,” you relent. 

“I mean it. He’s a fuckin’ idiot!” he exclaims again, turning much more serious. 

“Nate!” you protest lightly. 

“I mean it,” he repeats himself, holding piercing eye contact with you. 

Nate waits a beat, his eyes flickering from your lips back to your eyes as he leans in, lowering his voice. 

“He couldn’t even see a good thing when had it,” he croons, leaning in towards you. You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or the fact that you just want to feel wanted, but you feel woozy – hazy, you’re head spinning with lust as you contemplate kissing him. 

“Not even when it was right in front of him,” he adds, his lips so very close to yours. 

Nate’s always been good looking. Your eyes flicker to his full lips and deep brown eyes as he towers over you from where he sits, knowing that he wants to kiss you. He’s just the kind of guy that knows he’s good looking – something you find terribly annoying. 

“You’re so beautiful. I’m sorry that he can’t see it,” he practically whispers against your lips, so close that all the blood rushes to your head. 

It just feels good to be wanted, to be seen. So you surge forward, closing the gap between you. As you press your lips against his, you can feel Nate smiling into the kiss. He’s a smug bastard, but tonight, you don’t care. You entertain the kiss for a little longer. At this point, you could care less that you’ve garnered the attention of some of your coworkers, that you’re just making out with Nate fucking Walker out in the open for everyone to see. 

“You wanna go somewhere else? My place is around the corner,” he murmurs into the kiss.

“Sure,” you agree, you breath catching in your throat. 

“C’mon,” he encourages you, with a nod towards the door. 

Revenge, or the last of your gin cocktail, burns in your throat as you make a deal with the devil, following Nate out of the bar. 

June

Carmy’s phone buzzes again, catching his attention as he takes another drag from his cigarette. He’s got one missed call from Sugar, a voicemail, and a text with a link to that meeting she won’t stop nagging him to go to. He’s just about to put his phone back in his pocket as it buzzes again. 

He looks down. 

Shit. 

Fuck.

It’s a text from you. 

His heart stops beating for a moment, just for a second, and he freezes. 

Came across this article in the New Yorker about denim & rock n roll. Made me think of you. 

Carmy’s eyes scan over the title: From the Working Class to a Fashion Statement: John Lennon, Elvis Presley, & Other Icons That Brought Denim to the Mainstream. There’s a lump in his throat. He’s been so focused on the restaurant, so focused on fixing it, that it’s been easy to compartmentalize, push any thought of you out of his mind. But as his thumb hovers over the article, daring to open it, he can picture it all so vividly. His head is filled with the image of you walking down Bowery, a few paces in front of him, clad in your favorite denim jacket of his as you tell him to ‘hurry up.’ 

And just for a moment, it feels so real. He can practically smell the New York City air. He can hear your laugh as you bump into him in the small walkways of each mom-and-pop dumpling shop. He can almost feel your skin brush against his as you scoot by him on the way to your table.

It becomes harder to push the thoughts of you out of his mind, the sobering reality that it’s been at least a month and a half since he’s talked to you. 

She’s better off without me. Without this. Without all of this chaos, he thinks to himself. 

He hadn’t called, hadn’t texted, hadn’t been in touch on purpose, and he had to admit, it was killing him. There were days where all he wanted to do was call you, ask how you were doing – days where the only thing that would bring him comfort was imagining you running your fingers through his hair while he bitched about the restaurant. Days where he wanted nothing more than to curl up on the couch with you while you forced him to watch some violent action movie, and he’d watch you in awe. He’d call you a psychopath, when in reality, he was just in shock that someone like you could want to be around someone like him. 

Carmy wonders if you miss him – if it’s killing you too. 

But he doubts it. 

You’re a fucking mess, he thinks to himself, coming to conclusion that you’re better off without him. Without all of this… mess… grief… chaos. 

What would he even say?

Sorry I'm such a prick.

I don't know what the fuck I'm doing here.

I love you.

It becomes progressively easier to push his thoughts of you out of his mind, as he hyper-fixates on what needs to be done today: outsource bread, read over Sydney’s report because she’s probably right about the budget…. And what the fuck is KBL electric anyways? 

Now that the impulse is gone to text you back, Carmy shoves his phone into his pocket, shaking his head as he finishes his cigarette and reminds himself again:

You’re better off without him.

August 

“I don’t understand,” the exec chef says to you, his voice monotone. Something wild stirring behind his eyes in response to the notice that you’ve just given him. 

“My heart’s not in it,” you explain, hesitantly. “And I know you accept nothing less than perfection. I just… need some time to figure things out.”

“You’re not going to find another job like this,” he reminds you, coldly. 

You nod your head in response. You thought he’d say that. 

“I understand, chef,” you reply, using your tone of professionalism in your voice as a barrier. 

“I told her we could reevaluate in a month. I’m open to a rehire, should after your sabbatical, you come to the conclusion that here is where you need to be,” the head pastry chef adds. 

Sabbatical. 

Your head pastry chef is the only one using that word, as if they expect that you’ll come back. As if this is just a break. 

But it’s not a break to you. It’s a much needed change. 

Your exec chef thinks it over, his lips pressed together in a thin line. 

“You’re an exceptional pastry chef, but your lack of commitment worries me,” he states plainly. “You’ll have to interview again.”

“I understand, chef,” you repeat yourself. 

The conversation goes like this: you keep your cool, wanting nothing more than to get the conversation over it. It’s a daunting thing – quitting your dream job – enough as it is. Your head pastry chef fights for you, while the exec chef continues on his ego trip, as if you’re not sitting right in front of him. It’s not hard to tune him out. There’s a feeling inside of you, something telling you that you won’t be back, so the hoops he’s creating for you to jump through don’t seem to matter. 

Your feet hit the pavement as soon as the conversation is over, and you can’t get out of the restaurant fast enough. Dinner service prep had already begun, and as you’d left, you understood there would be questions, rumors, strange looks from your coworkers. But you knew this was right. 

Your heart hadn’t been in it for a while. 

Not since it left and moved to Chicago and decided not to call you back. 

You feel lost. 

It’s not just Carmy. It’s not just the big changes and shifts you’re experiencing. It’s everything. You don’t know what the hell it is you want. And you’re brave enough to go searching for it. 

You want nothing more than to call Carmy, to send him a text, for him to yell at you for quitting the job you both held in such high regard and tell you that you’re making a mistake. But the sting of the last time he ignored your call a few weeks ago stops you from picking up the phone.

Maybe he was only meant to be in your life for that chapter. 

Maybe, as you leave the restaurant behind, you’ll be able to let go of him too. 

Soon-To-Be Fall 

It had only been a few weeks since you’d quit the restaurant, in those few weeks, for the first time in a long time, you were at peace. You’d gotten loads of calls and texts: a ‘just want to check in’ from your head pastry chef, a ‘you doin’ okay?’ from Tim, and a series of ‘can’t take no for an answer’ texts from Nate that you have no plans to answer. 

The past few weeks have been filled with quiet. You’re enjoying your time, and you’re doing a whole lot of thinking about what it is you really want. You spend your Tuesday afternoon deep cleaning your apartment and listening to some of your comfort albums. It feels good to get to live slowly for once. It’s soon-to-be-Fall, even if the heat seems to be sticking around in New York City as of late. 

You hear a ping coming from your phone as you close up the container filled with sanitizing wipes that you’ve been using. Making your way over to your small studio kitchen, you see a text from Liz. 

Liz: I have the day off. Drinks & catching up?

You: Yeah. 7 pm?

Liz: Perf. I have restaurant goss. 👀

You chuckle in response to her text. Just as you’re preparing to type out a response, your phone buzzes again as a call comes through. 

‘Carmy.’ 

Carmy is calling you. 

Holy fuck.

It’s as if all the blood in your body rushes to your head and you have to try not to drop your phone. As it continues to ring, for a split second, you think about not answering. What if you didn’t? Send him to voicemail just like he’s done to you? But your curiosity gets the best of you as your thumb hovers over the ‘answer’ button. Had he heard? Was that what this was about? 

You answer the call before you can talk yourself out of it, immediately putting it on speaker. 

“Hi,” you say, your voice shaking a little. 

And it’s as if all your troubles melt away as you hear his voice.

“Hi,” he replies.

a/n: hello! yes, by popular demand i'll be writing the phone call as a drabble. however, my first series i wrote about carmy, 'make my heart surrender' picks up right where this chapter leaves off. chapter six will take places after that story, so for those of you that have not, feel free to read it while we wait (w baited breath of course) for the final chapter of this one.

read: chapter six

taglist: @allthefandomstogether @gaysludge @sobshoney @harrysmatcha @starbritestarlite @tpwkkmila @cool-girl-is-hot @nunya7394 @galaxyprincess51-blog @carmensberzattos @blue-weekends @rexorangecouny @ridingthehotmessexpress @the-nursery @strawberryalicia @astronautelilanded @veryplatoniccircunstances @fonteyn

[hopefuloverfury]

hello! ^_^ can i ask for the bachelors/ettes love languages both giving and receiving thank you! <3

(Gary Chapman, the man who came up with this theory, is a Not Great™ person, and his theory is filled with justification for misogyny and other general weirdness. The podcast If Books Could Kill did a fantastic episode on it in April of 2023, you can find it on Spotify or Apple Podcasts under The 5 Love Languages.)

I had a lot of fun with this! I will admit I kinda ditched the OG categories, but I did stick with the theme and overall you can probably figure out where everyone would land anyway. But MORE IMPORTANTLY, thank you for your request, anon. I appreciate you and I hope you enjoy this! Also this is really fucking long!! Almost 5k words!!! Holy fuck!!!!

🍀 Everyone say thank you to my best friend and editor in chief @lendelleaves for helping me with this. (I love you! <3) 🍀

Sam is a very tactile person, and I’ve said this before, but like a giant puppy who does not know he is giant, Sam likes sprawling himself all over you, no matter where you are. If you’re lounging anywhere together, his head is in your lap and his thumb is rubbing back and forth over your thigh. There have been many times when he nearly knocked out on top of you on the couches at the saloon, but his favorite place to sprawl all over you is at home.

He often traps you on the couch, and it’ll take a lot of bargaining and bribing to get him up—make no mistake though, he knows when not to push it. Sam is so observant when it comes to family, and he learns to read you quickly. He knows when you’re lying, or when you might be pretending to be okay, and is quickly able to discern whether you need support, or some space. 

When you don’t need space, Sam talks. And talks. And talks. He’ll fill up a silence like nobody’s business, or drag you out to exist in the world when you’re feeling like abandoning everything. When things are really bad though, Sam takes the reins and runs things for you. In the early stages of your relationship, he wasn’t very confident helping around the household, but he’s stepped up, and he’s gotten quite good at it.

Growing up with Jodi as a mother allowed him the space to dick around and act like a slob, and he’s a little ashamed of the way he took advantage of her. You try to remind him he was a teenage boy for a lot of that time, but he’s determined not to continue that cycle, and so his favorite part is cleaning—yes, you heard me right. He loves cleaning, because it makes him feel responsible, and it also lightens your load. When the dishes are cleared after meals, or when he’s taken care to sweep and steam the floors, he adores the feeling of productivity and accomplishment afterward. While he doesn’t expect any praise or compensation for it, he does cherish the moment when you realize you have time to relax (in a clean home, no less). He doesn’t ever want to sense the same regret from you that he did from his mother.

Sebastian struggles with verbal shows of affection, and tends to express his love with actions rather than words, but he’s kind of subtle about it. It took you a while to figure out what he was trying to say when he did these kinds of things. Sebastian is the type to cut up a plate of fruit for you after a long day working on the farm, and hand it to you wordlessly. He’ll help you unlace your work boots, rub any aches or cramps out of your feet, and make you a cup of tea—anything that could help you unwind. 

He loves taking you on dates! He’s taken you quite a few places on his bike, and while he’s not a huge fan of overcrowded places, he can handle them a little more easily with you by his side. You’ve gone bowling, to the arcade, mini-golfing (which he was surprised to find he absolutely sucked at), and to a few theme parks as well. He feels braver with you around, and his confidence has definitely improved since you met. He’s not concerned with the people that stare at you while you’re in public, because he knows without a shred of doubt that you’re not interested. Especially when you buy a funnel cake to share and wipe chocolate from the corner of his lips, or win him cheap plushies at a festival. He’s got a little collection of those going, by the way (and he’s named them all after fantasy characters, obviously).

When you’re not around, Sebastian likes to play some of the voicemails you’ve left him. He never clears them from his inbox, just so he has something to remind him of you when he’s lonely, and it may or may not have resulted in his inbox being completely full more than a few times. In a similar vein, his favorite messages from you are videos and voice notes, and whether you’re telling him about your day, showing off a successful harvest, or just popping in to say hello, he replays every message at least four times before melting into a puddle. 

Sebastian worried you might think it’s creepy, but he has a folder on his computer just dedicated to you, full of photos, videos, and voice recordings. He also has a candid photo of you in his wallet and refuses to talk about it, but one time you showed up at his place and found him sitting on his bed staring at it. You still don’t know how long he was like that for, and he adamantly refutes your claims of seeing him doing it at all. The walls of Seb’s office are covered top to bottom in pictures of you, and you’re pretty sure that all of his devices have you as the homescreen. It’s terribly endearing.

Alex likes spending time with you. Whether it be brushing your teeth together, doing the laundry, or loading up the shipping bin with your products and produce for the day, he’s calm as long as you’re nearby. He likes the physical reminders of your presence as well—stained coffee mugs sitting in the sink after you leave to work in the fields, the residual smell of you clinging to his clothing after you steal it, your personal items scattered around the living room, and anything else you leave in your wake. He wants to spend time with you constantly, but when that isn’t realistic, he walks into the bedroom and flops onto your side of the bed, just to shove his face into your pillow and inhale the smell of you.

When you are together, he’s always holding you. Whether it’s excitedly swinging you around in a circle in the entryway after you get back from work, gluing himself to your back while you waddle around the kitchen making dinner, or even walking through town together, he’s got to have his arms around you in some way. Granted, he’s not huge on PDA, unless someone stares at you too long and he wants to make a point, but he loves hugs, and especially playing with your hands! Rubbing his thumbs over the backs of your hands, threading and rethreading your fingers together, swinging your hands back and forth while walking through town, and making sure to remind you about the existence of hand cream when it’s the thick of winter.

Granny Evelyn was always very pointedly teaching him how to take care of his personal hygiene, so you can trust that he learned from the best of the best. When he is messing with your hands, you often find him admiring your calluses. He loves how strong your hands are; he says it’s a testament to your hard work and dedication. 

His life is so much better with you in it, and he’s finally comfortable just existing. Of course he still cares about gridball, but the guilt he felt about never going pro has dissipated, and he’s perfectly content in his life with you. He does wish he could’ve properly introduced you to his mom, but when you smile down at him in the morning, he likes to think the sunlight kissing the top of your head through the window is his mother’s way of showing her approval.

Elliott has a wonderful way with words, but if you want my professional opinion, this man gets tongue tied whenever you’re too forward with him. The more blunt you are, the more red in the face he gets. He’s always up in the clouds, and having someone like you there to ground him so solidly in reality switches his entire perception of love and attraction. It’s such a strong juxtaposition, against what he thought he liked, that many tropes within the romance genre have actually started to irritate him—love at first sight is probably the worst offender—and it affects the way he writes his own characters as well. 

Make no mistake, he’s still very much head-over-heels for you, but he doesn’t idolize you the way he did when you first met. There’s something so overwhelmingly human about you, to him, and he loves every part of it. 

So, he compliments you constantly—but almost always about something mundane or silly. The way your eyes look all droopy and clouded with sleep in the mornings, the way toothpaste surrounds your mouth while you’re brushing your teeth, or when you occasionally get your jacket pocket caught on a door handle and get jerked back with the force of hurricane level winds—and once, when you were struggling to put on your boots before a full day of work, and you tripped and toppled over in the entryway. You made the silliest sound as you went down, and even though he was quick to help you up and check you over for any potential bumps or bruises, he was laughing fondly to himself for the rest of the day. 

Even the way you look rumpled and filthy after a long trip in the mines makes him soft, and he always makes sure to tell you how wonderful you are. With your influence, he’s allowed himself to abandon his forced persona of perfection, and he’s never felt so authentic and comfortable in himself. He’s free to just be, and he’s eternally grateful to you, because you’ve shown him what love is supposed to be.

Shane always checks on the animals with you in the mornings, and he likes the physical labor that comes with repairing things or clearing debris from the farm on the first day of a new season. He’ll happily repair a fence or pathing, and he’s becoming more of a DIY expert himself the longer he lives on the farm with you. Shane is aware of how overworked you were when it was just you running the farm, and taking half of the shit off your plate makes him feel productive and useful—it gives him a little more purpose. He feels guilty about some of the habits he’s still holding on to, sometimes, but waking up next to you every day reminds him just how much makes life worth living. 

He gets a little down when there’s nothing to do on the farm, so if you want him to have a little more pep in his step, you know to ask him to do the usual chores while you dive down into the mines for the day. You do this the most often in winter, when the crops in the greenhouse aren’t ready for harvesting. He’s grateful for the work, and the knowledge that you trust him to take care of things while you’re fighting monsters makes him feel fulfilled. 

After a long day in the fields and with the animals, he likes lounging around before bed with you. His cheeks get so pink when you rub his back and give him massages, and when you shove a hand under his shirt while cuddling to rub his belly. He enjoys talking to you about anything and everything, and there have been a few late mornings because the two of you stayed up past midnight talking. 

He’s gotten pretty good at cooking, too! With all the extra time and a lot more of a sense of purpose in his life, he’s allowed himself to build interest in things he didn’t used to have the energy or time for, and that includes cooking. Make no mistake, he’s still comfortable with popping a frozen dinner in the microwave when neither of you have the time or energy to make a meal from scratch, but he’s become quite the chef! He tries to cook dinner for the two of you at least a few times a week, and he melts a little inside when you do the food dance after trying any of his recipes. He’ll smile so wide, and the tips of his ears will turn peachy-pink if you dare compliment his cooking, so you make sure to do it as often as possible. 

Harvey is always feeding you and making sure you’re dressed appropriately for the weather. He will absolutely run out the door after you in his robe and slippers if you forget a scarf, and a portion of your backpack space is reserved for the lunchboxes he makes you in the mornings. When you come back from the mines, regardless of how well it went or not, you have to let him give you a mini-checkup. He will not be able to sleep soundly if you don’t let him look you over, and he will nag you the entire time. He’s never mean about it, and he doesn’t treat you like a child, but it typically lasts fifteen to twenty minutes, and he might get weepy if he finds out you’ve been hurt. 

He’s just afraid for your safety, and he doesn’t want his life to go back to the dull and lonely repetitiveness it was before. Despite all of that, though, he’s calmed down quite a bit. He still has anxiety, but he’s no longer choked by it, and he’s relieved to have someone in his corner who can help ground him when his brain gets a little too ramped up.

He’s still totally socially awkward, though. He loves to hold your hand, but can’t do much more than that in public, because all of his blood rushes to his face and it makes him dizzy. He loves taking walks on the beach with you, and is the type to draw a heart in the sand with a stick and put your initials in it, but he’ll immediately scribble it out if you make a big deal out of it. 

In private, Harvey is a huge fan of parallel play activities; if you’re at the dining table reading a book, he’s probably going over medical papers or reading about fighter planes beside you. He doesn’t usually speak during these quiet moments, but occasionally he’ll reach over to grab your free hand and pull it up to his lips for a quick kiss. If you whine about needing your hand back, he purposely tickles your hand with his mustache and won’t let you pull away until he gets a real, full smile out of you. Since being with you, his life has become more rich and lively, and he gets more excited about things that would’ve gotten nothing more than a mild smile out of him in the past. You really have changed his whole life.

Maru pays really close attention to anything you express the slightest interest in. If you mention a particular candy that you’ve become obsessed with, she buys a full box the next day. If you mention liking a particular recipe, she’ll make it as often as possible until you get sick of it, and then she’ll move onto the next interest. The few times you took her to the city to visit your family, she made sure to take note of anything you looked at twice in any shop so she could buy it for you later. She’s surprised you with plenty of gifts this way, but there have also been a few times where she made the thing herself, and was very proud to say that her version was both better and worked smoother. 

Your farm has become a lot more automated, due to the sheer amount of tech and machines she’s built. She wants to make the harvesting process as smooth and as light in labor as possible, so that you have more time for yourself and your interests. She watched her mother’s physical state deteriorate over the years due to how often she’s lugging giant logs around, and doesn’t want the same thing to happen to you, so she’s constantly looking for new ways to lighten your load. 

She loves info dumping about her newest inventions or discoveries, and her favorite shared activity is stargazing. You commissioned Robin for a rooftop deck shortly after moving in together, and there have been many nights spent up there, with you pointing out different stars to Maru and allowing her to go on and on about nebulae, star systems, and giant interstellar clouds. She loves answering all of your questions, and never belittles you for not knowing something, or for asking an “obvious” question. It helps her brush up on her own knowledge as well! 

Beyond that, she likes roping you into shitty movie marathons. She’ll pop a few bags of popcorn and get out several bowls of snacks, and maybe if you’re feeling frisky she may just bust out a bottle of wine to enjoy between the two of you. She doesn’t think the movies are fantastic, but that’s the point! Her favorite parts are when she looks over at you after a particularly ridiculous scene, and she gets to watch you go through the five stages of grief in as many seconds. You’ve created a fair amount of inside jokes through this little ritual of yours, and it always makes her laugh, no matter how ridiculous the references are.

Penny takes immense care of the farmhouse, and loves decorating and redecorating your spaces. She’s always looking for the coziest pillows, or the prettiest wallpaper, and she includes you in every step of the process. If there’s anything you don’t jive with, or something you want to get done on the house but can never get to with all the other work you’re constantly doing, have no fear, because Penny will either find a contractor (Robin) to complete the project, or she’ll pick up a hammer and do it herself. 

She likes being a homemaker, and she’s good at it, and seeing you enjoy or react positively to any renovations and additions will make her whole month. You especially enjoy the home library she’s curated, because it’s by far the coziest room in the house, and because that’s where she loves to read to you—it’s something of a nightly routine for you both. After you’re finished getting ready for bed, she’ll sit on the thrifted chaise she restored, wait for you to get comfortable against her shoulder, and she’ll read until you’re sleepy enough to go to bed. (Sometimes you do pass out in there though.)

Your library is full of annotated books she’s given you, though she uses sticky notes to avoid writing directly on the pages, she will write an inscription inside the front cover with a short address to you about why she thought you’d like it. It’s pretty sweet, especially when she gives you romance books and explains with bright red cheeks that the main love interest reminded her of you. That’s always a cute moment, even though you’re a little shit sometimes and will quote the love interest in private moments, just to fluster her.

Penny secretly likes it, though—especially when you try to woo her. Whether it be with roses, dates, gifts, or flowery words, she loves every bit of it. Even though you’re together and she isn’t going anywhere, you don’t abandon those habits later on, and it reassures her. She initially figured the effort would be too much for someone as busy as you, but you always make time and plan romantic things for her, and she’s happy to know that her romance novels aren’t wholly fictional. You’re living proof of that.

Abigail has softened up quite a bit during her relationship with you. Don’t get me wrong, she’s still pretty passionate and bullheaded, but overall, she’s much calmer. She’s comfortable being herself and doesn’t feel the need to get defensive about who she is or what her interests are anymore, and it’s opened up a lot of avenues of self expression for her. She tries new things all the time, and she’s never shy about sharing her experiences or the results of them, because she knows you’re not going to judge her for it.

But because she feels so secure with you, she’s much more comfortable showing affection without fear of rejection or humiliation. That said, she stares at you a lot. Before you may have gotten a pillow launched at your face for bringing it up, but now she’s perfectly okay with being caught. She actually uses it to her advantage most of the time, and will take the opportunity to compliment you, like, “What, I can’t stare at the love of my life?” 

She loves flustering you. It’s mostly genuine, but she does do it just to be a little shit sometimes. When you play video games together (especially ones where you’re competing), she’ll grab your face and pull you into a kiss just to get ahead. It works 90% of the time, even when you know what she’s trying to do. She thinks it’s really cute, and loves seeing you get all worked up when she messes with you like that, but sometimes she does get lost in it and will abandon the game entirely.

On a more serious note, Abigail never lets you go down into the mines without her. She hates having to hear from Harvey, and she’d rather be there with you to prevent any accidents or injuries. It’s easier to get through the shafts with a second pair of eyes and another sword handy, so you’re alright with it—and another upside is that you’re never short on ore and coal anymore. When you get out of the mines afterward, she always suggests a dip in the spa. It helps you both relax and recuperate after a lengthy trip, and she gets to see you in a swimsuit. She may like the second part more, but hey, can you blame her? She thinks you’re hot, let her stare a bit more.

Haley is extremely tactile with her affection—she was pretty embarrassed about it at first, and tried to keep it at bay initially, but it caused some problems early on and that talk was not fun, so she doesn’t repress it anymore. If she wants to kiss you, she’ll ask for it, and the same can be said for any other physical affection. She wants you as close as possible a lot of the time, and when you do meet her need for touch, she all but turns into a cat.

She’ll push her face as far into your chest as it’ll go, latch herself onto your torso with all her strength, and if she’s feeling particularly goofy, she’ll jump into your arms like a koala. It’s very silly (and incredibly endearing), and she always giggles uncontrollably when you drop everything you’re doing to support her weight. She always warns you beforehand, and she does know when it isn’t safe or appropriate, so rest assured nothing goes wrong when she does decide to launch herself at you. Her favorite part about those moments is when you finally get a good grip on her. Again, she’s a tactile lover first and foremost, so your touch is going to make her happy no matter what. 

Besides touch, she likes how little you care about her appearance—make no mistake, she does appreciate when you take notice of all the effort she puts into her appearance—but she loves it when you wake her up in the mornings with a kiss, uncaring of her morning breath and eye crust. Like, sure, she grew up attractive and wealthy, and that meant she was popular, but it also meant she was highly criticized for everything she did. She could never have a blemish, a single hair out of place, or an embarrassing moment, and if she did, she’d be verbally torn to shreds. Always the topic of gossip, she learned to close herself off and pretend, pretend, pretend; but with you, she doesn’t need to.

She doesn’t feel the need to go to sleep with a full-face of makeup on, the way she did when she spent the night at her previous boyfriends’ places, and she’s perfectly content lounging around the house with a bare face and a tangled bun piled on top of her head. She can make all the hideous faces she needs to when applying her makeup and not agonize over whether you’ll still love her afterward. You’ve allowed her the space to let loose and let herself be imperfect, and it’s comfortable. She’s happier than she’s ever been, and a lot of it is thanks to you.

Leah is an artist, and it permeates her entire life—including the ways she loves you. She wants to make art out of you in a million ways, especially tactile ones, like braiding your hair or helping you dress yourself. She frequently stops you at the door before you head out for work, and she’ll fix your shirt collar or put your hat on for you, and adjust your hair until it lays perfectly.

She has paintings of you scattered around the house, but they aren’t always portraits. If you look hard enough, you can find hints of her love for you in all the art she creates; a canvas covered in your favorite flowers, a picture painted only with your favorite color, or subtle snapshots of your life together. She does have a portrait of you above her work desk, though, and it is by far her favorite piece. (She has rejected multiple offers for it, and she always will.)

She loves working on her art projects while you watch, and it’s become something of an inconsistent routine for the both of you. It started after dinner one night, when she was cracking down on a deadline for a commission, but you still wanted to keep her company. Not wanting to leave you hanging, she grabbed two glasses of wine, and you sat comfortably on her studio couch while she painted the piece for her client. She never demands silence from you in these moments, but when you are quiet, it’s easier for her to fall into the cozy atmosphere. Her work often feels less stressful with you watching, because if she gets overwhelmed or irritated with stubborn mediums, she can just flop next to you and take her mind off of the problem.

When you’re not home and she has no immediate commissions, she paints tiny hidden meadows on your furniture: on the bottom leg of your dining table, the inside door of a dish cabinet, the underside of your desk, the top of your front door, and even around the farm as well. She’s always so excited when you find another mini-meadow, and it’s like a special treasure hunt for the two of you. She’s gotten pretty good at hiding them, and she’s quite sneaky about it—except for the one time she fell into the pig pen trying to paint on the rafters in the barn—but that’s neither here nor there. (Don’t let her find the picture on your phone!)

Emily is like a crow. You’ve developed a mini collection of random trinkets, rocks, sea glass, shells, and feathers over the course of your relationship, all found and gifted to you by Emily. She sees a pretty shiny thing and immediately thinks of you. Sometimes she follows you around during your daily errands, just to keep you company. She absolutely steps in to lighten your load when you need it (or rather, when you let her), but usually she’s fine just listening to you talk, and vice versa.

She also likes taking care of you. Emily makes her own homemade soap and body oils, and if you’re ever worn out after a particularly long day, she’ll set up a mini-spa for you, and pamper you for however long it takes to wring out any lingering aches and pains. She’ll bust out dried flower petals and draw a bath for you, making sure to light candles and turn on a diffuser filled with calming oils to help you relax while you bathe. She doesn't want you to lift a single finger, and she may go so far as to dress and feed you after a bath; she likes to use warming oils and massage your entire body before bed. It’s both very vulnerable and incredibly relaxing—but that is her goal, after all—and she always finishes off her pampering with a healthy dose of kisses pressed all over your face.

While not everyone has as strong a connection to the spiritual side of the world, Emily does—and she likes sharing that with the people she cares about. Regardless of whether or not someone believes in the same things she does, she likes to look over your birth chart and horoscopes together, and sometimes she’ll do a tarot card reading for you, just for fun. She’s aware that people think she’s weird for being into these things, but you’ve never shut her down or made fun of her for her interests, and she’s both grateful and overwhelmed by how it makes her feel. No one else has taken such care to understand her, and she feels safe enough to be her most authentic self when you’re around each other. 

It’s also why she likes to dance with you! Whether it be a little dance-off in the kitchen while you’re preparing dinner together, or a slow dance in the living room, or even acting like nutcases at the saloon after a few too many drinks, she’ll have fun as long as it’s with you. She always has fun when it’s with you.

[roguehongsami]

Cult Leader.

—★ pairing/s: professor!hongjoong x fem!student

—★ genre/s: slow burn, fluff, smut, au

—★ synopsis: the struggle between freedom & autonomy, and routine in a relationship leaves you at crossroads. hongjoong waits at the end of one road w. his heart on his sleeve, hoping you eventually make the turn.

—★ content: teacher-student (late & early 20s, consensual), toys, dacryphilia, unprotected sex (condomize), mirror sex, creampie, cockwarming, breast play, overstimulation, spanking, degradation, praise.

—★ word count: 7.8k

—★ author's note: read cs to avoid confusion. story is focused on aaliyah from cs. her name is now Y/N, and Y/N from cs is now solana. have fun w. both perspectives. also, thank you for interacting w. my last story. it got 10x the traffic i was expecting. your support doesn't go unnoticed. xoxo.

* DISCLAIMER: THIS IS FICTIONAL. IT IS NOT A REPRESENTATION OF KIM HONGJOONG'S CHARACTER, PERSONALITY OR BEHAVIOUR. THIS IS SOLELY FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES. *

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ lana del rey // cult leader

Solana had not been answering Y/N's calls. All of her attempts would go to voicemail after a few rings. The show was about to start and Solana was nowhere in sight. Not knowing what to do next, she started making her way through the crowd. Her best option was to go home at that point. The show was Solana's idea yet she was late for it. Frustrating doesn't even begin to cover it. She felt a hand grab her wrist. Startled, she whipped her head around and came face-to-face with the culprit.

Her eyes wide, she said, "Professor Kim?"

"What are you doing here?" he wore a beautiful smile.

"I came here for the show." Y/N said, matter-of-factly. "And maybe to get drunk." she admitted shamefully.

Hongjoong released her hand and pocketed his hands in his jeans. He smirked. "Aren't you supposed to be prepping for Yunho's test tomorrow?"

"Yes and no." she shrugged nonchalantly. "I already understand time signatures. And the test isn't until three o'clock."

"Did you come alone?"

"Well, I was supposed to be here with Solana but she's not answering my calls. I think she got held up at her drum lessons." she sighed, unable to hide her disappointment.

Hongjoong pondered on his thoughts before he let out, "Instead of ditching the show, why not keep each other company?"

Y/N chewed on her lower lip, uncertain if that would be a wise move. As much as she would've loved to spend time with Hongjoong, the last thing she wanted was to incur the wrath of the school committee. She only had one semester left but let's be honest, it was never in her nature to play by the book. Challenging authority and taking risks had always been her hallmark.

She accepted Hongjoong's offer, weaving their way through the crowd that was growing by the minute. He led them to a pub table with two chairs. A waitress took their drink orders and came back with a mai-tai for Y/N, and a beer for Hongjoong.

"I never pegged you for a Molchat Doma fan." Hongjoong took a swig of his beer.

She took a sip of drink. "Somebody said something similar when I went to a Selofan show in April." she chuckled lightly. "I don't look the part."

"To be fair, you wear a lot of yellow." he pulled his face jokingly. "Doesn't really scream 'goth', now does it?"

She fake gasped with her hand over her chest. "I just don't wanna box myself. Is that a crime?"

"No, it is not. And frankly, I admire your refusal to be bound by rules."

"So what's the story behind the split dye?"

He ran his fingers through his hair and gave the most charming smile. She could feel her heart skip a beat. If there was anybody who could capture Y/N's undivided attention, it was Hongjoong. Although it never seemed so, Y/N thought a lot about her professor. Hongjoong had the entire student body wrapped around his finger; girls wanted him and boys wanted to be him. The man's charisma was incomprehensible and his word was rule. He knew how far his influence could stretch but Y/N, she never gave him that satisfaction.

For every swoon, she snickered. Every compliment was met with a scoff.

Hongjoong reminded Y/N of everything she was. Even with the very little interaction they shared, he could read her like a book. The way he spoke, the way he carried himself, his lack of consideration for rules... He was her. Her nonchalance was merely a method of deflection. She was smitten. Hongjoong was well aware and he enjoyed indirectly pushing her buttons. This game of cat-and-mouse was just a subtle way to communicate with one another.

"I wanted to try something new. Something that could get everyone's attention." he smirked.

"Was the red not enough?" she rolled her eyes.

"The red never got your attention." he coaxed her.

Not expecting that response, Y/N's drink went down the wrong pipe and she choked. She regained her composure and mumbled, "Well played, Joong."

Hongjoong boasted. He had finally managed to crack her armour. His efforts were getting recognised but if Y/N was truly anything like him, she was going to make him sweat. And he was in it for the long run. It was the first chase he was fully going to commit himself to. He wanted her, and he was willing to work for her. "Desperation" was not the word, no. With a legion of girls who were dying to be bedded by the Kim Hongjoong, it was the girl with a stone in the place of her heart whom he desired. He was motivated.

As the night progressed, the pair exchanged more words than they ever had in during the year. Bartender was placing drinks on their table every hour. The background music fell away, both forgetting that they came for the very thing they were ignoring. The number of people began dwindling as soon as Molchat Doma finished their set. A few local bands came on but nobody was really attentive. It was 23:30 and the club was closing. Hongjoong paid for their drinks. They made their way outside, still chatting about. He drove her back home and watched as she entered her apartment complex, before taking himself back home.

"Y/N, can I borrow you for a sec?" Professor Jeong Yunho called out to Y/N as she was stepping out the door.

She backtracked and went to Yunho's desk. "Yes?"

"Do you have any idea why Solana's isn't attending my class?" his eyebrows creased.

"She won't tell me either. And I won't force her to." Y/N sucked her teeth and crossed her arms over her chest. "If you want an answer, just get her in a very public space. She hates getting cornered."

Yunho laid back in his chair and put his arms on the armrest. "Like after class?"

"No. 'Cause then she'll make up an excuse about needing to get to another class. The mixer next week, she'll be there."

"Thank you, Y/N. I'm starting a new chapter and she's going to fall behind." Yunho grabbed a paper on his desk and handed it to Y/N. "Monday's test results. Get it to her, please?"

As she walked down the hallway about to journey back to her complex, Lecture Hall 1117 — Guitar. Her hand hovered over the handle, unsure of her own actions. She pulled it down and slowly opened the door. As her eyes scanned the empty hall, different types of guitars stacked at the very back, Hongjoong's eyes landed on her frame with his eyebrows arched. An unexpected surprise. He had not spoken to Y/N since the show, and they had barely exchanged any words in class either.

Slowly entering the classroom, holding Hongjoong's gaze, she locked the door behind her. He turned around in his chair and set his pen on the table, seizing with grading papers. She stood awkwardly at the door, toying with her fingers like a little child. As terrified as she was, she was ready to start making an effort with Hongjoong.

That'll be freedom and a half.

"Thought you'd be gone by now." she spelled, her voice meek.

"Wanted to get some work done first." a shit-eating grin materialised across his face.

He sensed how uneasy she was, as if she had just admitted defeat. As much as he would have loved to revel in the situation, he was not about rub it in her face and ruin whatever chances he had with her.

He opened his arms and motioned for her to come to him. "Come here."

She remained planted in her place at the door.

"No funny business, I promise. Just come here." She moved into his embrace. He positioned her on his lap and begun rubbing circles on her back. Her head laid in the crook of his shoulder. She couldn't help but purr under his touch.

"Are we finally making progress?" he asked as he picked up his pen and continued grading papers.

"A little bit." her head still buried in his shoulder.

"A little bit." he parrotted. "You wouldn't even look at me in the first semester, so I'll take what I can get." he chuckled lightly, which prompted Y/N to reciprocate the gesture.

On the outskirts of the city, Hongjoong had his car parked on the side of a road near a field. The skies were gloomy, clouds a deep grey and a light breeze that made the grass sway. Y/N sat between Hongjoong's legs, with him leaning against the door, as they watched outside. He had his arms wrapped over her shoulders, chin rested on the top of her head.

"You really love the seventies, don't you?" she spoke softly.

"The clothes, the cars, the music. There's a flair to that decade that's just... special."

"'The freedom land of the seventies'." she slipped out of his hold and sat up, turning around to face him. "I'd always hear stories from my grandma from then."

His eyebrows creased in the middle. "Like what?"

"She was a free-loving hippie then, flowers in the hair and everything. Before she left the States, she got to see Jimi and Janis at Woodstock."

"You're lying, right?" he gave her a suspecting look.

"On the day Janis performed, she met a man named Graham. They were glued at the hip the whole weekend. Eventually they started dating."

"That doesn't sound so bad." Hongjoong chuckled.

Y/N gave him a blank stare, biting on the inside of her cheek. "Graham... was a cult leader. When they dated, grandma joined his cult. She never left his side. He could convince her to do anything."

Hongjoong sat upright and watched Y/N intensely, waiting for her to say she was lying.

"But Graham died in seventy-eight."

"What happened to the cult after he died?"

"It just dissipated, grandma was devastated. She loved him, no man has ever measured up to Graham in her eyes. Everyone thinks she's just a senile old woman with raging dementia but I don't." she leaned back on the seat, laying her head on the headrest. "She said it was the best time of her life. Always encouraging me to find my own freedom. She wants me to live." she turned her head to face Hongjoong. "'Lay down, my child'. Something Graham used to say to her."

"How does your grandpa feel about her loving Graham that much?"

"Probably tooting his own horn." A mischievous smile spread across her face, unable to mask her amusement. "Graham is my granddad."

Hongjoong was too dumbfounded to gather the words to speak. He stared at her blankly and all she could do was keep smiling. They sat in silence for a few moments, holding each other's gaze. Hongjoong fixed his posture and planted his feet on the floor. He cupped her face. She held his wrists, looking at him through her lashes. She gulped to ease the anxiety creeping in. The atmosphere suddenly became heavy, all that could be heard was their breathing.

"Everyone either wants to be you or be with you. Your personal 'yes-men'. They're so desperate for your approval, for you. It's very..." she broke the silence, their lips grazing.

"Cult-like?" he let go of her face and held her hands. A smirk breaking out. "Do I make you feel free?"

She nodded in agreement. "I think our little back and forth is freeing. You don't rush me." her voice was faint. She dropped her head, feeling slightly embarrassed.

"It took an entire semester to get you to talk to me, acknowledge me. I can wait a while longer."

"I just need you to hold my hand until I'm ready. I don't think you'd ever stifle my freewill but I need to be sure."

He pressed his lips to hers. She happily obliged. He snaked his arms around her waist, hoisting her up to his lap. Her hand was pressed against the window, the other slinked over his shoulder. Their breathing picked up, body temperature slowly rising. He slid his hands under her shirt, sending shivers down her spine. His lips moved down to her neck, nipping at the skin.

A downpour struck down on Hongjoong's car, jolting them out of their little bubble. As he kept tracing kisses and bites on her neck and shoulders, she was distracted by the droplets on the window. Her fingers following the drops sliding down. She broke away from Hongjoong. His eyebrows creased, confused. She opened the door and stepped out. The rain smacking against her skin.

"Y/N, what are you doing?" Hongjoong asked as he slid to the door.

He grabbed her wrist and she looked down on him while he sat in the car. "I don't know."

She ran off into the field until she reached the very center. Her head cocked up to the sky, eyes closed. Rain washed down her face. Her shirt became translucent, sticking to her skin. Her entire body was drenched. She spread her arms out.

"I did everything I wanted. I lived. I loved. And now it's your turn."

"But I don't know how..."

"Yes, you do. You're just scared, that's it." she handed her a bowl of snacks. "As for love, you'll know when you've found the one. He'll be there no matter what."

Spin. Spin. Spin.

She recalled a conversation she had with her grandmother. Her words rang true. There was fluttering in her stomach. But sometimes those butterflies could be warning signs. Unsure which it was. Harbingers of a beautiful something or an awful auspice.

Hongjoong snuck up on her as she was so engrossed with what was in her head. He grabbed her waist and held her hand in his. He spun her around once more, with one knee bent, he dipped her. They held their position a few seconds before he reeled her back in and held her. She rested her hands around his neck and leaned in to kiss him. She rested her head on his shoulder.

"Soon you'll realise that you can have me without sacrifice. And I'll be right here when you do."

Most students had already taken their place in the hall. Some were in the back getting their guitars of the rack. Y/N was tuning her guitar, readying herself for the day's lesson. She was feeling a bit under the weather that day; her face was flushed and nose congested, an occasional sneeze into her sweater sleeve. Her little liberty expedition into the rain had left her with a parting gift; a cold.

Once all the students were seated, Hongjoong began his lesson. He paced up and down in front of the students, asking questions about various scales. The class was engaged in the lesson but Y/N, not so much. Her cold medication had put her in her a state of delirium. She could barely keep her eyes open.

"I put you into groups of three last time and assigned you solos to analyse. Get to it." Hongjoong spoke authoritatively as he sat in his chair, feet propped up on his desk.

Y/N rummaged in her tote bag, the little device hiding from her, then pulled forth a small device the size of her hand. She plugged the amPlug into her guitar. The headphones that hung around her neck were pulled over her head and covered her ears. She plugged the wired headphones into the amPlug.

Kathy brought her hand up over her head, waving, which got Hongjoong's attention. Diverting his attention from his phone screen to an eager Kathy, he sighed.

"Kathy?" his tone low and uninterested.

She twirled her hair in her fingers, giggling with her friends upfront the class. "So... mister Kim, do you like... have a girlfriend?"

Kathy had never shied away from making passes at Hongjoong. She had always been shamelessly vocal about her desire to get with him. Half the student body knew and even the faculty caught wind. It played off more as a joke to everyone, but not Kathy. Not Kathy.

Hongjoong never held any animosity towards anyone. He got along with everyone, always as respectful as he could be. Thing is, he also had one hell of a reputation for flirtatious behaviour. Albeit with no intention to follow through with something more, he'd either wink at students or mindfully caress the female staff just to get a reaction out of them. He loved the influence he had over everyone. It was all a game to him.

Half the class was taken aback by the question, feeling as if it was a bit intrusive. The other half were more engrossed by the assessment that was due. Y/N held her head up, curious to what his answer might be. Hongjoong smirked, standing up from his chair. He strolled to Kathy and stood in front of her, arm slinked over the music stand.

"Why Kathy, do you want a date?" Hongjoong smiled with a wave of confidence washing over him.

Kathy playfully rolled her eyes and giggled some more. "I mean-"

Hongjoong briefly glanced at Y/N. "I flirt a lot but I don't do students. And I'm not on the market." he said arrogantly, shooting her a wink.

Embarrassment washed over Kathy as she sunk into her seat. Hongjoong pat her on the shoulder, then pocketed his hands into his slacks. He took a few laps around the hall, as his students spoke amongst themselves. Y/N put her headphones over her ears and began strumming. She felt a sense of relief hearing Hongjoong's response, but couldn't help think a part of what he said may have been a silent jab at her. Setting aside her thoughts, she focused on her playing.

Solana tapped Y/N on her shoulder, bringing her out her bubble of notes and chords, and pushed the headphones behind her ears.

"I need a pick, I think I lost mine."

Y/N took out a small metal container from her tote bag. "What kind do you use?"

Solana pondered as her index finger was pressed on her chin. "Standard three-five-one, point-eight gauge."

She opened up the metal container. Her finger swiping through the various collection of picks. Bringing forth a lime green pick, she inspected it then held it out to Solana. She took it between her fingers, pouting, she looked up at Y/N.

"Don't you have it in celluloid?"

"You know I only use nylon."

Solana shrugged. "Thanks anyway." her fingers flipped through the music sheet on the stand in front of her. "Can't believe Professor Kim gave us Free Bird. I don't get the physics behind sliding. I like the glissando though."

Y/N passed a breathy chuckle, amused by Solana's complaint. "I did it with a bottle neck once, I'll show when we get home."

Solana puts on her headphones, strumming away on her guitar. Y/N pages through the music sheet, making notes on the sheet with her pencil and jotting down in her notebook. Engrossed with her work, she didn't realise Hongjoong was nearing her as he took laps around the hall. A tingling sensation played around in her nasal cavities, eliciting a sneeze that was directed into her sleeve. She took out a handkerchief a swiped it across her nose.

Hongjoong shook his head in discontent, tsking as he halted right beside her. "Told you not to fool around in the rain." he whispered.

She glanced up at Hongjoong with a death stare, a shiver meandering in his nerves.

He sunk to her eye level, eyes studying the notes on the sheet. "I'll drop off some food and medicine later tonight." he whispered as his fingers paged through the sheet. His finger landed on a highlighted line. "That's dee-over-eff sharp."

"Thanks." she muttered, fingers adjusting the distortion level on her amPlug.

It was the night of the Waldorf Music Academy mixer. From nerves of steel to absolute anxietude, Y/N was trying to regain her composure. She had spent months preparing for this night. Hair and makeup to shoes and dress. Counting in her head to calm herself, fingers tapping incessantly on her thigh.

"I'll see you later, okay?" Solana rubbed Y/N on the back and gave her a small smile.

Y/N nodded as she watched Solana walk down the steps into the hall, her red gown in hand to keep from tripping. She stood at the entrance, inspecting the venue. She wore a blush pink tulle dress that halted above her knees, a bejeweled belt hugging her waist. Her beige stilettos with gemstone straps decorated her feet. A white and yellow diamond négligée hung befittingly around her neck, sure to draw attention to her chest. The necklace was paired with yellow diamond studs and bracelet. Her getup was completed with a beige clutch. She was magnificent. breathtaking really.

Hongjoong sat in his car that was parked across the street, watching her stand frozen at the door. He wore a midnight blue regular fit suit with a notch lapel, the top three buttons of his dress shirt undone. A white pocket square adorned his chest, and dark brown oxfords to complete the look. His split dye hair was slicked back, a black strand dancing on his forehead and his undercut fresh as it could be.

He exited his car and made his way across the street, into the building. His heart was thumping faster the closer he approached. Of all the beauty he had come across in his lifetime, nothing and no one ever measured up to Y/N. He stood beside her, pulling her out of her thoughts.

"You are beyond... mesmerizing." he smiled. "You're very beautiful, Y/N."

She returned the gesture. "Thank you, Hong." she playfully nudged at his shoulder. "You clean up really well. I see why Kathy's always making passes."

They both chuckled lightheartedly, easing the atmosphere. Most of the anxiety that held her mind hostage had slowly begun to fall away with every second Hongjoong stood beside her.

"Too bad for her, she's not you."

He held her gaze. She looked away, heat rushing to her cheeks. Time felt as if it had slowed down.

"Just breathe, okay? You'll blow them away, that I'm certain of." he gave her a wink before descending down the staircase. "Come find me if you need a pep talk."

[ . . . ]

It had been about two hours since the mixer started. Chatting up a myriad of industry officials. She wrapped up her conversation with Joe Satriani after discussing his thought process while composing, and his experience mentoring Kirk Hammett and Steve Vai. He gave her some much needed pointers, also offering his number so he could tutor her in the future. She humbly accepted the offer, as she walked away.

She spotted Hongjoong sitting at the bar, alone. He was downing a glass of whiskey, uninterested in the event. Chaperoning was his least favourite part of the job. He called on the bartender, shaking the glass a few inches above the counter, signalling for a refill. Y/N sat on the stool beside him and ordered a long island iced tea. The bartender positioned the beverage in front of her and disappeared to tend to other guests.

"Enjoying the evening?" Hongjoong downed his whiskey in one go. "Saw you chatting up Satriani."

Y/N twirled the straw in her drink. "He said he'd tutor me after I graduate."

He looked down at his glass and smiled halfheartedly. "Guess you're outgrowing me. I've taught you all that I could."

There was an uncomfortable silence for a minute or so.

"All this talk of graduation..." she released a shaky breath. "I realised how much I love having you around, even though it doesn't seem so. I'm ready to take the next step, if you feel like you've waited long enough."

He glanced up and saw her looking down at her drink. He knew it took a great deal of courage for her to bear her heart out. The step he'd been waiting for. She finally opened up her heart to him. All he could think of were the ways he wanted to show her new experiences and above it all, how love could be liberating and safe. He was determined to create an environment where their mutual admiration for each other could be cultivated.

Hongjoong looked back down at his drink. "You have no idea how badly I've been wanting to hear that. Are you serious?"

"As a heart attack."

He reached into his pant pocket. Presenting to her, he discreetly put a pink rubber device in her hand. She looked at her hand, her eyebrows creasing with confusion. In no less than a second, it dawned on her as her eyes were bewildered and her mouth grew into an 'O'. She swiftly dumped the device into her clutch, eye laser-focused on Hongjoong.

He looked her straight on, expressionless. "What are you still doing here?" his voice hushed.

[ . . . ]

She jerked up in her seat, the people around her the table casting confused glances. A simple "Shiver down the spine" was enough for them to brush her off, giving her reassuring nods. Her legs were shaking and she could barely hold the fork in her hand. When the tables were cleared, she took it as an opportunity to bury her face in her arms. Her heart was beating irregularly. Her breathing was all over the place.

Solana came back to their table and sat beside Y/N. She heard her sniffling and grew concerned. Her hand rubbed her back as she leaned in.

"Babe, what's wrong?" Solana asked innocently.

"It's nothing. Don't worry." she said with a tremble laced in her tone.

"Are you sure? You're literally shaking."

Why wouldn't she shake? Any time she felt as though it was all over, Hongjoong would crank up the setting of the remote-controlled vibrator. She was pooling at her core and her clitoris was throbbing to the point of detonation. One wrong move, she would probably collapse. She avoided being on her feet for the time being, worried her legs may give out. All she wanted was for the evening to end.

And it was far from.

Hongjoong was seated two tables away, smirking cunningly to himself. Everytime she lurched in her seat, he stifled a laugh. Having his way with her was what he considered his "single greatest achievement". He had her in his grasp and he wasn't loosening his grip for as long as he lived.

Y/N sat up, wiping the tears off her face. She put her finger on Solana's mouth, confusing her, Solana looking down at her finger.

"I'm f-fine, just... shush. I need quiet." Y/N hissed. Her eye caught the ebon stone on her finger. She squinted as she focused on it. "Er- where'd you get the rock?"

Solana pursed her lips, eyes wandering. "I, uh... a gift."

Her clutch was buzzing on the table, catching her attention. She took out her phone, her eyes greeted by a text message notification.

Hongjoong: i'm turning it off. gather yourself and meet me in room 1205 in 30 min.

Hongjoong: and DON'T take it out unless i say so.

She slipped her phone back into her clutch. As she was about let out a sigh of relief, the device went off one last time, prompting her jerk up again. Hongjoong listened to her quietly whimper as he walked past her table, not giving her a second look.

"I'll probe you later." she tilted her head to the side. "You don't mind going home alone, do you?"

Solana shook her head. "I'm meeting somebody in the hotel in..." she looked at the time on her phone. "Right now, actually. I'll see you tomorrow."

Solana stood up and swiped her purse off the table, flattening whatever creases she could find on her gown. She took out a tube of lip gloss, glistening her lips before making her exit. "Kiss kiss."

She was greeted with a 'floor 12' silver lettering when she stepped out of the elevator. Taking small strides to the room, she stood in front of the door. 1205. The grip on her clutch tightening. Deep breath in, shaky breath out. Hand balled into a fist, her knuckles met the door. Two knocks. The device still buried inside her buzzed to life, forcing an involuntarily half-loud whimper out of her. Her knees buckled and she held herself up using the door frame.

The door opened, her eyes landing on a grinning Hongjoong. He clutched her waist, pulling her into the room. She threw her arm over his shoulder, legs trembling with every step. Her clutch thrown on the coffee table. He sat on the edge of the bed, his hands squeezing her hips and face buried in her stomach. She held herself up with his shoulders, staring at the top his head. He was inhaling every bit of her Issey Miyake perfume.

"Stand back a bit for me, will you?"

Y/N took a few steps back, making space between her and Hongjoong. She stood with her arms crossed over her chest, a scowl evident on her face. He looked her up and down, a lustful yet dark gaze focused on her being. Their eyes competing with one another. Tension thick in the atmosphere.

Bzzzz.

She whimpered painfully, doubling over and supporting herself with her hands on her knees. "You said you'd stop."

"Long enough for you to be able to get here." he shrugged. "There's five settings on this thing and I've only taken it to four. How long is it gonna take for you to cave under five?"

"I came, like, twice in the hall. What more do you want?" she growled. She bent down to undo the straps of her heels and set them aside.

The vibrator went up to the fifth setting immediately after Hongjoong brought it back to life. "That's one hell of an attitude for someone who's under my mercy."

"I'm sorry." she cried.

It seemed the longer the buzzing went on, the more her legs would tremble. She stood by the coffee table, holding herself up. The tears mixed with sweat beads came down her face endlessly. Counting to a hundred and back in her head, trying to keep her mind off her situation. The feeling of her heart thumping violently against her chest was making her panic. Her entire body was shaking.

"Call it. I'll stop." Hongjoong deigned.

It had only been three minutes at this point. Two orgasms had washed over her. A third one was quickly materializing. An tight sensation taking up residence in her stomach. She managed stand upright. Pacing up and down in front of Hongjoong. Fisting two handfuls of her hair, she was breathing erratically, tears never seizing. As her third orgasm crept in, she bowed with her hands on her knees. Her cries more audible this time.

Down her leg came some of her nectar, underwear beyond drenched. Catching Hongjoong's attention, head cocked to the side and eyebrow arched. A smile mixed with satisfaction and bewilderment appeared. He leaned forward to get a closer look. Her knees buckled as she brought down her entire body weight. Hands pressed to the floor, her crying grew stronger.

Trying to string together a coherent sentence, unable to find her words. She managed, "Please..."

The device died. Hongjoong slipped the remote into his pocket. He went down on his knees, cupping her face and wiping away her tears. He planted his lips on hers, burying her head in his shoulder. As he took his hand into her underwear, he accidentally grazed her overly sensitive bud. Whimpering and jerking up. His fingers journeyed up inside her, retrieving the vibrator. Smeared with her juices, he brought it to his mouth and licked off the residue.

She casted him a disgusted look, eyeing him through her wet lashes and glossy eyes. Unsure if she was aroused or found it off-putting to watch her boyfriend slurp her discharge, her core released a bit more of her juices in response. Talk about cognitive dissonance. Hongjoong chuckled, as he put the toy into his pocket. He grabbed the back of her neck and kissed her. His tongue requesting entry into her mouth. She tasted herself on him.

He draped his arms around her waist, undoing her belt. His fingers unzipped her dress. He stood up, bringing her up along with. The dress pooled around her legs as she stepped out of. He sat down on the bed, straddling her around his waist. She began undoing his dress shirt, then traveled down his pants. Her fingers fumbling the zip. He smacked her ass, making her moan into their kiss.

"Five-seven with the confidence of six-foot tall man." she spoke against his lips, her hand caressing his throbbing cock. "I admire that. I think it's hot."

He flicked his finger over her throbbing bud, a yelp filling his ears. "Gutsy, when I quite literally have you in the palm of my hand."

He grabbed her waist and pushed her off, taking off his pants. He sat back down on the bed. Her eyes stuck on his member. Smooth with a vein running along the base, head pink and leaking with precum. Girthy and lengthy. Her mind was racing through all the possibilities of how he'd make her fall apart. She licked her lower lip.

"Come on, take a seat." he coaxed her, pulling her hand. His other hand pumping to get him harder. "I'm gonna stuff you so good, baby."

He spun her around, her back turned to him. His hands planted firmly on her waist, he slowly descended her on his cock. Both of their bodies erupting from the slight contact. As Hongjoong was taking deep breaths, Y/N whimpered at the feel of his stretch. Her walls clamped so tight, barely allowing him entrance. Hongjoong was careful to not force her down hastily.

Patience wears thin for everyone, it's ruled by circumstance. As appreciated as it was, she was peeved. He was taking his sweet time, enjoying her feel. She balanced herself using his thighs and forced herself all the way down, until he bottomed her out.

"Will you relax? I can feel your heart beating on my dick." Hongjoong groaned when she fit him in, his arms wrapped around her stomach.

She gave a light chuckle, through shallow breaths. "Sorry Hong, you were taking too long."

After a few breathers, she began bouncing on his cock. His hands playing with her breasts, fondling away at her nipples. Her moans filled the silence in the room. The constant squelching replaying in both their heads. His grunting had her spiraling. She wanted to hear more. Kegeling on his cock. His grip on her breasts growing tighter. He traced wet kisses on her back, inevitably sinking his teeth into her skin. Marks plastered all over her back.

The warmth and slick that encapsulated his cock, paired with forceful clamping, it was coming. It wasn't long until he was painting her walls. He stilled her on his cock while he spasmed inside her. Grunting her name, over and over, in her ear.

He took her face by the jaw and cocked it to the mirror in front of them. "Don't worry, baby. You'll get yours."

He spread her legs open, rubbing the inside of her thigh. Trailing kisses on her back and shoulder. Her jaw still in his hand, his other ventured to her core. As he played with her bud, she squirmed in his hold. Any time she tried looking away, he'd force her to look at the mirror.

As she closed her eyes, tears running, he said, "Open your eyes, and don't make me ask again." he whispered into her ear, shivers traveling down her spine.

Her chest heaving up and down as she watched herself in the mirror, falling apart in his hold. Her cunt squeezing his cock in intervals. The decibels of her moans escalating. Materialising her nth orgasm of the night. He felt her clamping down, reporting on her nearing release. She mumbled incoherent strings of nothing, Hongjoong's name caught in the mix. Her head slumping down, he forced her gaze into the mirror.

Hand still toying with her, he spoke softly into her ear as she wept, "I want you to have this image of yourself engraved so deeply into your subconscious, not even a lobotomy could make you forget."

Her moaning grew and her clenching got tighter.

Planting a kiss on her neck, he said, "Cum on daddy's cock, baby. I know you can."

She held Hongjoong's gaze in the mirror as she unraveled at his words. Shallow breaths were all she could manage. Her body quaking as she creamed on his cock. He stood up, his cock slipping out of her cunt. Arousal dripping on the floor and going down her leg.

On all fours on the bed, facing the mirror, he slotted himself between her legs. His hand pumping to get himself hard again. His tip running over her folds, gathering their combined juices. Spanking her ass just to behold the recoil. His tip was sliding in and out of her cunt, teasing her. She was anxious for what was to come.

Easing into her wet hole, he buried his cock deep inside. This position was sure to have him grazing her cervix and hitting her erogenous zone at a pristine angle. She moaned into the sheets. He leaned forward, taking her hands and pinning them down on her lower back with one hand. The other hand smacking her ass before squeezing her hip for balance.

His thrusts started off slow and steady. Every pounding had her ass jiggling. His balls grazing her clit. As he picked up speed, the sound of skin clapping, Y/N moaning Hongjoong's name and Hongjoong grunting profanities occupied the room's atmosphere. Sure enough to disturb the neighbours but who cares? The bed wanted in on the action as it was vocal too, bed frame squeaking with every powerful pound.

"My pretty little slut." he panted, breathlessly. "You love daddy's cock, my perfect little whore?"

She moaned. "Yes baby, I do."

He spanked her ass once more. "You're more beautiful as my fucktoy, princess. I'm gonna fill you up with all my seed."

He slowed down a bit and released her hands. His hand wrapped around her neck, careful not to bother her négligée. She brought him up to his chest, his other hand on her stomach. Pumping in and out of her. She clenched around, this new angle had his cock brushing her sweet spot. He knew he had her in the right position when her tears started welling.

His lips pressed to her ear and grip getting tight, he grunted, "I may have everyone wrapped around my finger but I need you to be obsessed. I want to be the center of your universe. I want you to get sick at the idea of a man who's not me."

"You don't have to ask twice." she moaned, her hands grappling at his hips.

The last few brushes past her sensitive zone played around with her eyes, she was seeing stars before her eyes. Her nails sinking into his skin. Incoherent mumbles leaving her lips. The visual of her tits bouncing as he pounded her into oblivion, aroused her. As his hips were bucking, short thrusting into her, he delivered his final load for the night. She soon came undone on his cock, her cunt squeezing every bit of him out.

Once the high started subsiding, still inside her, he laid her on her back. Her legs laced around his waist, he massaged the inside of her thighs. They looked at each other lovingly through smiles, though hers was dopey and his smug.

"Thank you for giving our relationship a real shot. I know it wasn't easy for you." he cooed. "I promise I won't waste your time. And I definitely won't cage you."

Her hand ran over her stomach, rubbing circles. "I trust you, Hong. I'm not sure of a lot of things in my life but not you. You stayed when most men would've left. You waited for me and held my hand while I prepared to take that leap."

He leaned in for a kiss, her hands caressing his back. He hovered over her, bucking her hips up. "And I would do it all over again."

Afternoon had come and at around 12:30, they found themselves standing at opposite sides in the elevator. The clicking from Hongjoong's phone filling the silence. Y/N was picking and prodding at the pimple forming on her cheek. As the elevator continued descending down the building, it stopped at another floor. The doors opened and an awkward silence fell.

Everyone's eyes dancing between one another, exchanging shocked glances. Yunho and Solana stepped into the elevator, Solana standing beside Y/N and Yunho beside Hongjoong.

A sardonic smile spread across Y/N's face. "So that's why you were bunking classes..."

Solana bowed her head shamefully, heat racing to her cheeks. "I didn't know how to tell you." she spoke with a hoarse voice.

Y/N and Hongjoong exchanged bemused glances. Hongjoong cleared his throat, smirking as he looked at Yunho. "Eventful night, I see..."

Yunho's ears turned red, face turned towards the floor. Hongjoong and Yunho spoke amongst themselves, as did Y/N and Solana. The rest of the ride down was fairly normal, the awkwardness no longer felt. As the elevator stopped at the ground floor, Y/N and Solana walked a few feet ahead of their professors.

As they stood on the other side of the street, about to head their separate ways, Hongjoong stepped away as a call came in. He spoke on the phone for a minute or so then returned.

"Yunho, you mind taking Y/N home for me? There's something I need to get to." Hongjoong spoke with urgency in his tone. He pecked Y/N on the cheek before leaving. "I'll call you tonight."

Yunho opened the door to the driver's side, halfway inside. "No problem. Girls, in the car."

On the ride back to the complex, Solana asked Yunho to get them takeaways. He went into a drive-thru and journeyed back to their home. The car was parked at the gate. As they were about to exit, Yunho stopped them.

"You cannot, under any circumstance, tell anyone about last night. All of us could get in trouble." he spoke authoritatively, face stern to emphasise the urgency of his words.

The girls nodded in unison. Y/N took the bag of food and exited the vehicle. Solana remaining behind to share a few more moments with Yunho. Ascending the stairs, her eyes land on a brown box at their doorstep. As she approached, Solana came trailing behind. Both wearing confused looks.

"Were we expecting a delivery?" Solana said.

Y/N shook her head, handing over the takeaways to Solana as she inched closer to the box. She scooped it up off the floor and inspected it. Box nestled under her arm as she searched for the keys, she unlocked the door. They stepped into their apartment, Solana setting down the food on the counter. Y/N grabbed a pair of scissors from the kitchen drawer. As she opened the box filled with packing peanuts, there was a card inside with her name on it.

"Guess it's for you." Solana shrugged. "What's it say?"

"'Thought you might love this. I have a feeling that it's right up there on your list of interests. -Hongjoong'." she read the card out loud.

Solana screamed, her arms wrapped around Y/N's shoulders as she jumped up and down. "Oh-em-gee, open it! Open it!"

She set the card aside and lifted the package inside the box. As she removed the yellow packing paper and bubble wrap, she felt the air leave her lungs. She held up the vinyl record a few inches away, inspecting the black cover with red detailing. Her eyes focused on the two women on the cover, finger running over their name at the very top. In awe and all, she could find words to speak.

"No. Fucking. Way." Solana exasperated. "I couldn't even get you that for your birthday."

Y/N was brought out of her trance. "I never told him about Strawberry Switchblade."

They looked at each other, eyebrows creased down the middle. "Then how'd he know?"

She shrugged, eyes still inspecting the vinyl.

[ . . . ]

The rest of the day went on as normal. The girls spent their afternoon on the couch, watching 'Our Blues'. Food spread out on the coffee table. As the final episode concluded, Solana cleared the living room. Y/N went into her bedroom, moonlight illuminating the space. She pushed the covers aside and laid in bed, staring at the ceiling. Her phone vibrated on the nightstand as it rang.

Hongjoong.

She answered.

"So you remember that call I had earlier?"

"Yeah? Who was it?"

"I got scouted by an executive, said a doe sent them my raw recordings. They want me to produce Rihanna's next album... in Amsterdam City, but I told them I'd think about it. Said I'd run it by you."

"Hong, that's great! What do you need my opinion for?" she sat up on the bed. "Plus, Rihanna's been on hiatus for almost a decade. If this album blows up, everyone's gonna come looking for your expertise."

"We just started dating, I don't think distance would be a great idea." he sighed. "Y/N, you're the only person who knows about those recordings."

There was silence for a few moments. "I just thought you're too good for WMA, so I sent your work to as many labels as I could." she frowned a bit as she laid back down. "As for distance, I called Satriani and his people said he'll take me on after graduation... in Ivory Canyon, it's fifteen minutes away from Amsterdam. If you leave now to get settled, I'll join you in a few months."

"And you'd be okay with it?"

"We've waited this long, what's four more months?"

"How'd you like the gift?"

"Beyond love it. I've been looking at it all day, can't believe it's in my hands." she smiled as the fluttering in her stomach got stronger. "But how'd you know?"

There was rustling on his end as he laid himself down in his bed. "I noticed that you always wear polka-dot ribbons in your hair that match your outfits, sometimes with mesh flowers. Never got that."

"They're pretty." she whined.

"They are. But when I saw you at the Molchat Doma show and you mentioned Selofan... it clicked." he chuckled. "I looked up eighties goth bands that wore polka-dots and lo and behold-"

"Strawberry Switchblade. No one I've met has ever got that reference, not even Solana." she said softly. "Thank you, Joong."

"You're welcome, princess. And thank you for sending out my work, I'm usually big on risks but this..." he smirked to himself.

"You deserve somebody who'll give you a push whenever you're not sure of yourself. You're good at what you do and the world needs to hear it."

He released a deep breath. "I've got tickets to a Sextile show next Saturday."

"It's a date."

[punkeccentricenigma]

"He should (not) allow it." FUTURE!LEONARDO X FUTURE!HUMAN!READER

Relationship status: Romantic

Reader prounouns: She/Her

Words: 1566

TW: Some grammatical errors because english is not my first language, angst, toxic thinking, future setting

A/N: The idea for this story I had for a couple of months, and only now managed to bring it to life. It didn't turn out exactly as I wanted, but it's pretty close. Also, today is my birthday. Yay...

Enjoy

"What do you think, huh?!"

[Y.N] expelled a breath as she was pushed with rough gentleness into the center of a small private bedroom. Her brows remained unmoved, teeth clenched in anger.

"What's your problem, Leo?!" she responded with a question, straightening up to face the mutated turtle who forcefully closed the door, seemingly hurting it more than her.

Not sure what was going on, but not an idiot, she had her suspicions.

"Another base got attacked," Draxum said in a tone of indifference, but his old face betrayed considerable pain. "They're all gone."

The group gathered in the main room of the base under New York, or rather its rubble, expressed a collective murmur of additional words of disbelief or mourning; even if they didn't know these people, they were in the same position, knowing what they felt.

"What do we do now, Leonardo?" April asked, only showing furrowed brows. "It's only a matter of time before the Kraang and others attack us." Her words were logical, especially knowing how cruel and ruthless the aliens were, even to their own. Her chocolate eyes often noticed exhausted brains, dying from exhaustion, in their torturous work.

The turtle's eyes twitched slightly, probably not having slept all night, contemplating all of this since Donatello left. He had not only the planning on his mind but also the entire base's technology. He felt he was slowly losing control, but he couldn't show weakness, not now, not ever. "We'll have to boost the security and fuses; we can't afford them burning out during a potential attack," he said, adjusting his blue scarf. When was the last time he washed it? With a low water supply, laundry had become the worst option.

"Forgive me, leader," the dark eyes of the redearslicer rested on the slightly taller figure who raised his hand to stand out from the crowd. Ah, one of those geniuses who worked with his twin brother. You could see red eyes on the mutant—was it from fatigue or tears shed for a lost person? "But we'll need to conduct further reconnaissance to gather new materials for such an upgrade. Currently, we're lacking many things."

"Right..." Leonardo mumbled quietly, uncomfortably shifting his gaze. "So, we'll do it tonight."

"Yeah! Another round of taking down those damn meatbags!" Cassandra exclaimed joyfully, raising her hands with her wild gaze. Numerous deep scars adorned her bare shoulders, complementing simple childish drawings made by her son.

"However, many of ours were severely beaten last time; they're still in the infirmary wing," the African American woman pointed out sharply, crossing her arms. "We need to wait at least a week to carry out such an action safely!"

Leo had a strong urge to respond sarcastically to these objections but bit his tongue, not wanting to get into another argument.

"Well, then...!"

"I have an idea for a potential solution." All eyes turned again to the older goat when he spoke.

"What is it?" Leonardo's voice resonated lightly. He felt relieved that someone as intelligent as Draxum had an idea, but also uneasy, knowing his past.

"We'll use my mutagen to strengthen our power."

The turtle's pupils narrowed at the sound of his second 'father's' words. It was... unimaginable! "W-what?" he stammered, taking a step forward to stabilize his posture. "Use the mutagen? That damn slime?" He didn't want to use such strong words, but his shock exceeded his manners.

Baron Draxum cleared his throat, ignoring the term for his experiment. "I believe it's the best course of action in this situation. Analyzing past events and the likelihood of future ones, we need a survival factor."

Leonardo took in stale air, waiting for further elaboration on this idea. Why did he still feel uneasy hearing this?

"So, people would have to take the right dose of this green liquid to transform into the appropriate Yokai."

"That sounds absurd," the red-faced one acknowledged, placing a hand on his hip. "It's dangerous, especially in these conditions."

"I don't deny it, but I think it could eliminate most diseases for which we no longer have a cure." "And after failed attacks, people could have a better chance of defense and faster regeneration depending on the mutants they transform into. You know that well, Leonardo." The turtle automatically felt a tingling on his shell in places where previous wounds had faded over time.

"... Still, it sounds wrong." But why? Why do you think that way? Is it your current mindset, or is it from years ago?

"But... Draxum is right," April admitted, walking to stand beside the goat. "Without it, our chance of survival is low."

"Wait...!"

"We can test it today; I need at least one volunteer."

Everyone glanced at the person next to them, waiting for any reaction. Well, no one is deciding; it will be fine...!

"I... I volunteer." Leonardo's eyes widened as he noticed his partner, who, despite holding a box, raised her hand. There was determination on her face.

"You're being unreasonable!" Although Leo's voice usually had a light tone, at this moment, it was deep and aggressive. The fact that he strongly gestured with his only arm didn't help. "Agreeing to something like this? Are you insane?"

"Leon, listen!"

"No 'listen'!" The man snarled, approaching his beloved, causing an odd dominance. "What you've decided is utterly idiotic!"

"No, it's not. I'm just considering the well-being of the rest!" The woman held her ground, taking a step forward and delicately touching her chest to her fiancé's. Her eyes were sharp, causing a slight embarrassment in Leonardo's mind. He didn't usually behave this way, but he let his emotions take over.

"All that will result from this is total chaos and pain!"

"As if there isn't chaos and pain right now!" She emphasized, gesturing as well. She felt the pressure in her head increasing, and the hope for calming down diminishing. "You need to take a breath and think about it rationally, Leo."

"Ohohoho! Sure!" His tone became more mocking, and he started to pace, adding drama. "I've known that lunatic much longer than you. I know the messed-up things he's done! And you want that green crap to flow through your veins? You should have higher standards!"

"Apparently, I don't, since I chose you, someone who has the same thing in their body!"

A sharp intake of air escaped the turtle as he stood still. His face showed wounded pride, not from his fiancée's words but from his logical error. Fool.

After a moment, [Y.N] took a breath, wanting to calm down. "Leonardo, listen." Her smaller hands moved gracefully, as if she were trying to tame a wild animal that no longer existed in these times. "Draxum is right. Thanks to this slime, most of us will have a better chance of survival."

"That doesn't change the fact that it's total nonsense," the man muttered quietly, burying his chin further into the blue fabric. "Something like this is incredibly painful for an ordinary person, especially in circumstances where there's hunger, filth, death..." His voice slowly broke. Before, he didn't care much about humans; their rescue was just an addition to victory when he fought. But now? Especially since his dearest person is one of them?

"Leon, tell me directly what's going on."

"I feel awful," Leonardo began, letting his crystalline tears flow. "My brothers, Raph and Donnie... I couldn't save them...!" Before he realized it, he tightly embraced the woman, who motherly patted his shoulder or shell. "And even earlier, Dad..." pain "You don't even know how much I wish this invasion didn't happen, that everything was normal." "Or not to get used to every current situation; it hurts so much when everything 'falls into place,' and suddenly something crumbles or someone dies!"

"I understand you, that's why this mutation is needed."

"No, you don't understand..." his whisper pierced [Y.N]'s ears. He pulled away slightly from her silhouette to look into her [COLOR] eyes. "I don't want any changes because it's all I have when it comes to a connection with a normal past." His hand gently caressed the cheek of the person in front of him. "The fact that you're human reminds me of good times, of safety. If that disappears..."

A sense of guilt lingered in both of their hearts. For more or less rational reasons.

The woman averted her gaze, placing her hand on a larger counterpart of the turtle. She sighed softly and smiled reassuringly. "A-alright, you're right."

Another embrace, this time stronger than the previous one. "Thank you... I love you, and I don't want to lose you..."

"Same here..."

"But you know, I would look interesting as a mutated turtle!"

"You'd be bald as a knee."

"You say it as if it were a flaw, egghead."

Laughter echoed in Leonardo's mind as he looked in disbelief at the torn body beneath his feet, covered in red ash.

"This... can't be!" He immediately fell to the ground, brushing the sand off the face of the corpse before him. The man wasn't a believer, but with each passing second, he prayed for it to be a simple dream, a regular nightmare in his brain. Unfortunately... "[Y.N]!"

Amidst the distant sounds of battle, his roar and sobbing resonated among the rubble as he cradled the lifeless body of his fiancée in his plastron.

He should allow it.

[trollsedits]

BroZone headcannons please cause I saw your Poppy/Viva one and it was so cool!

Aww, Thank you so much I’m super busy today but This just made my day haha 💕✨ (so I’m writing this on my busy schedule today)

Brozone Headcanons:

Jonh Dory:

-Dude has a Perfectionist problem

-his personality reminds you of Eric Andre

-During his younger boy band days he would mess around with his little brother but he mostly like to mess around with Rosiepuff

-Grandma Rosiepuff mostly yells at John for causing chaos

-dude is obsessed with Rhonda

-His literal senior quote is “Perfect,perfect perfect 100%”

-He likes to mess around with king peppy back in his boy band days

-Has OCD

-He has baby pictures of all of his brothers he once try to make those kpop photo cards of embarrassing pictures of his brothers and sell them to fans his brother were not happy about it

-Will embarrassed the Sh*t out of his brothers no matter how old they are

-branch and Floyd is literally embarrassed to be around John

-Clay just hide whenever John comes to the Putt-Putt trolls village to pay him a visit he would make viva tell John that he was dead

-Bruce once slap the Living Sh*t out of Jonh Dory cuz he keeps calling Bruce —-> Spruce so John thinks twice before calling his name

-since bruce slap John He is deadass scared of saying Bruce name afraid that he’ll mess up again so he just call Bruce Vacay dude with a tall wife and 13 children

——————-

Bruce:

-Had super dad power

-knows when his kids or wife needs something

-he always mentioned “My wife” when ever he hangout with this bros

-he will slap the Living out of you if you dare disrespect his wife and children meaning talking bad about them

-since he’s a dad now he will dad his brother meaning he will cook, feed them put them to bed etc.

-he can surf

-he once taught Floyd how to surf but it failed don’t ask why Floyd rather not talk about it

-he and Floyd has the best brothers relationship beside clay

-He still baby branch around

-when ever John Dory was being a bit to much Bruce would just put a pacifier to shut him up or just put John to bed the other brother thank him for that John can go on for hours on being perfect

Bruce: come on you big baby I think is time for your nappy maybe you’ll stop being cranky

-he definitely listen to Broadway music like Hamilton and others he also listen to smooth jazz

-he is a charmer not even his wife could be angry at him

-back in his band days he would brings a bunch of random girls back to their pod and make out w them he would threatened both clay and Floyd if they ever tell grandma Rosiepuff he would [Beep] their heads off so clay and Floyd just shut up

-He Secretly wants to adopt tiny diamond because he never had a troll size kid of his own before

-He would attempt to kidnap tiny diamond before but got caught by branch

——————————

Clay:

-Definitely a John Dory biggest #1 Hater

-Clay would attempt to murder John but Bruce stopped him

-license CPA put some respect on his name fools

-definitely listen to Kid Cudi he would play it Day N night

-He regret leaving baby branch and Floyd but mostly branch

-He still loves to baby branch around no matter what even in front of Queen poppy

-is in a sad book club

-Clay would often get in trouble w grandma Rosiepuff

-April fools is his favorite holiday his brother and even grandma would get out of the house or won’t go near the house on April fools day

-He once try to sell Floyd and branch for some money but got in trouble

-He try to sell branch again but got in trouble again

-Clay once drew on John Dory and Bruce face during their band days while they were asleep with permanent markers so they couldn’t wash them off so they had to perform like that

-Clay left Floyd behind at a supermarket that one time Floyd was crying so much when a troll brought him back to grandma Rosiepuff

-Clay loves his older brother John Dory despite being his biggest hater he still care about John but he hates it when John push him and his brother past their limits

————————

Floyd:

-Definitely listen to troye sivan & Lana del Rey

-he even dressed like troye sivan

-he stalk troye sivan so badly that troye sivan wants to put a restraining order on Floyd poor dude T-T

-He wants to marry troye sivan so badly cuz he’s troye Sivan biggest fan

-he loves his brother so much

-he once gave troye sivan flowers but then troye sivan threw them in the trash ;-;

-he still stalks troye sivan doe idk y his brothers would stop him and constantly apologize to troye of Floyd behavior he isn’t like this so maybe being locked up in a diamond prison made him go nuts

-Floyd can’t feel his legs after being free from the diamond prison

-Floyd when branch was born he hated branch a lot but he sooner warm up to branch

-Floyd once got his brother to do the Troye sivan “Got me started dance” and it blew up even troye Sivan was impressed that his number one fan/ stalker killed it at his dance

-Floyd always helps his grandma around the house even taking care of baby branch

-he really regrets leaving branch and his grandma behind because she loved them dearly

-he and barb would become best friends

-Floyd always act like a big brother to John,clay and Bruce whenever they are fighting he is so mature for his age

-Floyd is the family therapist

-Floyd along with branch has the best vocalist

-Floyd has gone through phrases (don’t ask him he’ll die from embarrassment but John definitely has pictures of it so don’t ask John unless you want to die )

————————

Branch:

-After saving Floyd from the twins he been following Floyd every movement

-Has major abandonment issues

-he will cling onto his brother legs if they leave

-he will not let Floyd or any of his brothers leave he most likely will keep them hostage cause his abandonment issues are real

-he sounds like Justin Timberlake

-He still hold grudges against his brother for leaving him but mostly at John

-he treats his big brother like he owns this place

-He definitely listen to all kind of genres of music

-he’s a Bts army and a blackpink blink (I feel like he is honestly don’t argue with me plz)

-He also listen to NSYNC his favorite member is Justin

-he hates being called bitty B but he somehow let poppy call him that

-he’s a cat person for sure he’ll even act like once towards his brothers

-he will hiss at them if they dare leave

-Bruce couldn’t leave so he would have to explain to his wife for hours why he can’t leave ;-;

-poppy once came to his bunkers and saw his brother tied up in a chair she started to get worried about branch behavior she knows viva has abandonment issues but is not as bad at branch

-She demand to let his brother go but branch wouldn’t let go of his big brother

-even John Dory was crying scared for his life

-when branch was a baby he would get away with anything even murder

-everyone try’s to kidnap branch when he was a baby back in his bands days but John Dory is protective of branch

-He caught Bruce trying to kidnap tiny diamond that once time he would tell guy diamond but then again he threatened Bruce if he saw Bruce try to attempt to kidnap tiny diamond again he would tell

-he is Creek number #1 hater

-he still doesn’t trust Bergens

-he once saw Floyd chasing troye sivan in the streets so branch would restrain Floyd from going after troye

“That troll is Delulu!” Troye said

“He’s my older brother” branch said

“Well your older brother is crazy!” Troye response backing away and running off

“You’re welcome that I restrain him for ya!” Branch shouted while rolling his eyes

——————————

Anyways, I hope you enjoy that funny and random headcanon of Brozone if you want to request me anything just click on my profile and press on “Ask Me Anything!”

—————

Like + Follow are very much appreciated! ✨

[steviesbicrisis]

@unclewaynemunson Happy birthdaaaaay!! I saw your post about asking for Uncle Wayne related content for your bday and it inspired me to write this little thing! I didn't have a lot of time to work on it, please forgive any mistakes and I hope you like it!!

It's April of 1978 and, for the first time in his life, Wayne has to organize a birthday celebration for a kid.

Or better, "A teenager, I'm not a kid anymore" as Eddie would correct him every time.

It's been two months since he came knocking on his door, accompanied by social services, and things are... awkward at best.

The truth is, Wayne was never meant to be a father. He had come to accept it as he went through life and realized that the best way to not become like his old man was to not repeat the same mistakes he made. One being to have children when you can barely afford to feed them or have any love to give them.

Wayne had plenty of the latter, but lacked a stable relationship and a job that would pay him something bigger than his trailer.

So, being a father was not in his plans, but once he had realized Eddie couldn't have anything better than him, than his trailer park life, he welcomed him with open arms.

But Eddie had some trouble getting used to it.

He would talk to him only if Wayne talked to him first and Wayne, being a quiet old man, didn't do much of the talking himself. He would eat by himself when Wayne wasn't around, go to school by himself, and never left anything of his around (Wayne caught him putting his clean clothes back in the bag he came home with, once).

Sometimes, Wayne would even forget that Eddie was living with him.

So, when Eddie's birthday comes around, Wayne has no clue what he's supposed to do.

He has been giving him food, clothes, a bed, and school supplies, but Eddie doesn't ask for anything else and Wayne doesn't know what he needs.

Does he have friends he would celebrate with? does he expect a birthday party? how much would that cost? is it supposed to be a surprise?

He tries to get some sort of explanation out of Eddie, by staring at him quietly during breakfast, but he only gets a furrowed brow before the kid jumps off of his chair and rushes out of the trailer.

The frustration leads him, a few days later, to Melvald's General Store in the party supplies section.

Melvald’s isn’t a big store by any means but the selections of party hats and cake toppers is enough to confuse him even more and give him an headache.

His salvation comes in the form of none other than Joyce Byers. She must’ve noticed his pained look and decided to save him from his misery.

“I don’t know your boy very well, but I see him when I go get my kids from school” she admits, “he reminds me of my youngest, you know? He has some troubles expressing what he wants but… usually he’s happy with the simplest things. Just ask Eddie what he wants, I’m sure you’ll be fine.

Maybe get a cake, just in case. Kids love cake!”

——

“What is that?” It’s the first thing Eddie says when he gets home, staring at the cake on the table.

Kids love cake my ass Wayne curses Joyce, mentally.

They stare at each other until Wayne grunts a “it’s your birthday”, looking everywhere in the room but Eddie.

It’s a small “oh” that makes him focus on his nephew’s face.

Eddie is staring at the cake, a mix of emotions in his face that Wayne isn’t able to read.

“I haven’t had a birthday cake in a while. Dad never remembered my birthday."

It's not only what he says, but also the way he says it, with no emotions, like it's a thing he shouldn't be upset about, that breaks Wayne's heart.

Eddie approaches the table, in a way that funnily resembles a wary cat, and sits down in front of the cake. He doesn't say anything but stares at Wayne expectantly until he understands he's supposed to light up the candle on top of the cake.

"Do I have to sing you the song?" Wayne wonders, out loud.

"Please don't" Eddie is horrified.

Wayne gives him one mischevulous look before he starts to sing "Happy birthday to youuu" while Eddie covers up his hears and pleads him to stop.

Wayne was never meant to be a father, but he became a great one nonetheless.

[afreakingdork]

You Are My Sunshine, My Only Moonshine - Chapter 2

RotTMNT x Reader

Michelangelo is nothing but art in this chapter art by @kaysdenofchaos

Rated: Teen and Up Audiences

Relationships: Michelangelo (TMNT)/Reader, Michelangelo (TMNT)/You, Donatello (TMNT)/Reader, Donatello (TMNT)/You

Warnings: POV Second Person, Gender Neutral Reader, Anxious Reader, Introverted Reader, Stuttering, Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, Romance, Love, Love Confessions, Falling In Love, Unrequited Love, Rejection, Aromantic Asexual Michelangelo (TMNT), Bisexual Donatello (TMNT), Pansexual Leonardo (TMNT), Lesbian Cassandra Jones | Foot Recruit, Demisexual April O'Neil (TMNT), Implied Cassandra Jones | Foot Recruit/April O'Neil/Sunita, Endgame Donatello (TMNT)/Reader, Romantic Love, Platonic Love, Panic Attacks, Sexuality Crisis, Agoraphobia, Social Anxiety, Happy Ending, Fluff

Synopsis:  You’ve lost most of your life to anxiety and fear. Now, in your late 20s, you are desperate to reclaim it and during one such outing you encounter the sun personified. With his and his similarly celestially inspired family, will you finally reach your goal or will you lose yourself along the way?

Also available on Ao3

First 💛

Done on a whim, it was almost strange how right you’d been when comparing Mikey to the sun. He was a beaming hot star in the sky and he touched the land with his warmth, giving rise to life itself. For whatever reason he extended this beam to you and you were now what you dubbed as his outing friend. A term that was never spoken aloud and therefore not official, you only ever saw Mikey in the context of events. They were meant to thrust you into life and the sun, a gaseous ball that existed with or without you, happened to cast its life giving properties in your direction.

As such, the fear of sunburn, an easy retribution for more time in it, meant that your fraternization wasn’t always the best thing. Overall, the benefits of daily sun intake outweighed such things, but you wished you had been given more time to apply the protective balm necessary. Without aid, you were fast tracking social interactions at a near breakneck pace. Gone were the warm-ups or slow care you required to manage. Instead, Mikey barreled forward as an unrelenting force.

It started with that painting class. Your first invite, you hadn’t really taken into account when ‘next week’ was. Since Pasta Fest had occurred on a Friday, the text saying the class was Tuesday wasn’t technically incorrect, but only four days to prepare seemed absurd. It had taken you over a month to go out for Italian and that mental fortitude was built on an even longer stretch of yearning. Now, not only would you be denied a recovery time, but you also needed to get ready in the blink of an eye. The shortened shift balanced the scales as it was difficult to worry about the logistics of going when you didn’t even know what to wear. Having never painted in a class setting, you weren’t sure what was necessary from clothing to materials.

You had tried to text Mikey what details came with the class, but he was either oddly cagey about it or simply didn’t consider things from your perspective. The latter seemed more apparent as his responses came carefree on how not to worry followed by a sea of memes. It left you raiding your closet. Finding something loose that you wouldn’t mind getting paint on, you took it upon yourself to research the class. The internet told you little more than it was an introduction to oils, so you were left to self-soothe with an endless playlist of painting videos going non-stop until just before the class.

Meeting outside the school, Mikey appeared in casually cut clothes that fit his laid back attitude. Those pieces were then sparked with loud prints or colors that accentuated his bold flare. Tonight’s ensemble illustrated such with lightweight cotton pants that were enveloped by a fuzzy sweater swarmed with giant smiley faces on it. Trying not to think the little dot eyes of them were following you, you were ushered through the door and straight to the correct room without having a fact check once. His confidence knew no bounds as did his reach. He greeted the professor by their first name and you were quick to find that art was yet another field he mastered.

Whisked around the class, Mikey gave you the ins and outs and seemed to know almost every member on a personal level. Those he did not, he introduced you both to and it felt as though you were being shopped around to potential suitors. You were regaled in seemingly outrageous ways he had connected with these people in a way that made you question his career. While he insinuated he was a chef, he was spoken of like some kind of vigilante jack of all trades.

Unsure of what to do with that information, you had little time to dwell as you were set up at an easel. Class began and you were finally given time to breathe. Instruction meant paying attention which quieted other thought. You only now needed to focus on execution. Oil was a slow drying and therefore forgiving medium which meant things could be changed. As long as you didn’t blend too much then you had a chance to repair. As a class for those new to the medium, you were thankfully given a single color palette to avert such a mistake and found comfort in brush strokes blotting little trees.

You’d almost started to enjoy it when a swing of your arm knocked over a jar meant to clean brushes.

A large glass affair, it shattered and spread on to the floor along with your horror. Scrambling so no one would get hurt, you shot forward to pick up one of the largest shards when your foot hooked the easel. In an instant, everything was on the floor, from your painting face down in the muck to your paints which resisted the water but smeared nonetheless on the concrete.

There was also yourself. You’d fallen to your hands and knees where water and paint was rapidly seeping into your outfit. Though it was one you prepared to lose, this wasn’t anywhere near the road you thought would lead to it. A drop was one thing, but you were now as painted as Mikey’s sweater with the entire class staring to boot. Trying not to cry over spilled paints, you used the last of your dignity to at least gather those shards when a canvas shoe stepped right in front of you.

Looking up and feeling the wet sheen on your cheeks, Mikey looked down sympathetically before he dropped. With spread fingers, he swiped through the paints and danced straight through the shards. While he seemed to worry not, you scrambled along the ground to grab the glass amongst the teacher’s worries for both your safeties. You lost sight of Mikey outside of ballet-like spins over your head, but in the process acquired most if not all the glass. 

When you finally rose dripping, he moved fluidly toward you and, in a spin and tip-toes, he brought you away from the mess. You both tracked paint, but after a quick trip to a trash can, Mikey released you. You then turned, now the right distance away to see a gorgeous swirling rainbow painted with your mess on the floor. Mikey had manipulated every bit of the spill into a large piece of artwork. 

“Right! Sorry about that, Diane! I’m done taking over so let me clean this right up. There’s one of those squeegee brooms in the hall closet, I can just-” 

Your head snapped to Mikey with the intent to exclaim on how he’d done this, but nothing came so he watched you with wide eyes until his lips rounded. 

“…or we could see about hydro dipping? Not sure it’ll work with this mix, but I couldn’t help but notice that bunch of white shirts over there!” He pointed to where a box was laying half open with a cloth sticking out of it.

“You apologize, but you take over my class yet again.” The teacher, Diane you supposed, mused with her hands on her hips. “Alright, we’ll try it, but you’re replacing the product before the tie-dye class!”

“Of course!”

Switching gears as if this was always the plan, everyone moved their easels out of the way and the class shifted to a more physical one. Discussing the golden ratio and what made Mikey’s floor masterpiece alluring, the teacher went on while you were stuck staring at the mutant who didn’t seem to notice. You meant to follow along, but there was a mesmerizing intensity to the affection on his face. 

Your next outing came as a Hockey game which you always knew was going to be a problem. When Mikey invited you, images of rowdy crowds and air horns filled your head. The ghosts of which echoed in your ears as you prepared your denial. Fingers flying over your phone’s keyboard, a text appeared in the awaiting window about how this game was hosted by the seemingly ambiguous family member who had stood him up for the painting class. It was intriguing enough to give you pause. 

Another message appeared, this time with Mikey moving to guilt by saying that he alone would have to be her hype man. The other family members were too booked to support this one and your fingers further slowed. With his usual steadfast nature, more texts soon followed noting that the game was on a Wednesday night, meaning it would be slow, and that it was in the children’s league, so there would be barely be a crowd. On your last leg of escape, he’d added that you both could sit anywhere and you were done for as you erased your negating message to pen one that agreed.

In return, he was kind enough to suggest dressing warmly.

Settled in a hoodie and having only minorly debated more layers, Mikey appeared outside the rink looking nonplussed which quelled a few of your nerves. His hands were buried into a particularly brightly tie-dyed hoodie which made you think he had not only been true to his word about replenishing shirt stock, but he had also been in Mrs. Diane’s other class . Wondering just how many hobbies Mikey had, your curiosity vanished when he offered to prepare you for what lay inside. 

Your heart soared. 

With an upheld finger, Mikey warned that Casey would lead a chant at some point and he would signal you when. It would be a whole affair, but the phrase would be something obvious. There was a chance that a guy running the camera would inevitably point it at you because the operator liked to harass shy patrons. You were to stay still if you appeared on the screen and Mikey would take the heat off. Your concerns about air horns were validated, but you were assured they’d be closer to the ice and telegraphed. 

Armed with knowledge, you entered through a pair of double doors and out along rink-side seats. Air cooled, but not enough to breathe smoke, Mikey led you up to a higher section with no one in it. About halfway up the back, you settled into a foldout seat and watched as kids skated around to warm up. Mikey whispered in your ear about which one was Casey and you found her to be a furious looking human woman with an undercut who would continually scream what sounded like battle cries. Trying and failing to ask Mikey exactly how she was related to him, the game started and an announcer came on.

The small crowd was a joyous one and you felt excited as the puck dropped. Sporting events weren’t something you ever attended because everything about them spelled anxiety induced doom, but in this setting it felt bearable. Everyone was shouting, especially the parents who had lined up rinkside, but you almost felt a cozy little barrier from them in your seat choice. In the snow globe, you were looking upon, Mikey was the painted sun in the corner trying to warm a nearly frozen day. Even as jack frost nipped your nose, you would be tempted out, just to soak up the ray where your life had been dreary for weeks.

You were mentally preparing to chance a cheer at the next point when a trumpet sounded to your right.

You jumped straight out of your seat at a height that caused it to fold back up. A drum then joined the horn and as you descended your bottom hit the chair’s lip. It then buckled so you could further drop and sprawl out. Your hands shot forward to grab the armrests in case you slid away and Mikey appeared over you, asking if you were alright. JHeart beating straight out of your chest, you only looked up at him with your lips about to part in a dry sob. 

You thought Mikey might help you up, but you watched determination grow on his brow. 

With a jump different from yours, he landed in a captain’s pose and looked out at the makeshift band. Spying them, he reached into his coat as if getting a telescope, but instead manifested a kazoo. He counted off with his teacher’s projection before playing a tune. Though the sound wasn’t near as loud as the instruments, something about Mikey’s command had caught the group’s attention. They quickly stopped their discordant sounds and picked up what had to be a known song for these events. You watched with warped awe as Mikey marched, without looking, overtop the armrests to lead the band. Only brave enough to sit up, you watched as the group’s spirits soared with their conductor.

Soon the music drifted to the ice where you heard Casey scream something about listening to the mystic warrior’s battle tune and rallied the kids to destroy their adversaries.

This then spurned the parents until everyone in the place was screaming after Mikey’s little chunk of plastic. The cacophony which should have suffocated you, instead made your heart race as it all felt like a grand escalation. Not the sign of the chant you’d been warned, but something else, a goal was scored just as the buzzer went off. The whole building erupted and, within only a single second of your confusion, Mikey lifted you clear off the ground to spin and explain that they won. Shouting back the question because you couldn’t believe it, he only reaffirmed before setting you down.

Quickly turning back to the ice, you found the kids all tackling each other in slips and slides before Mikey exchanged your body for your hand. You were pulled down to the rink where you didn’t have to fight the masses as they parted naturally for Mikey. Casey watched her kid’s dogpile approvingly and greeted Mikey by his color instead of his name. He introduced you and she immediately gave you a noogie. Crying in her arms over what social barrier you had mistakenly overstepped, she released the mess of you saying you were a good luck charm and she expected you at future games. Not sure how you’d handle that, you thankfully didn’t have to as more people appeared and the conversation moved away from your recurring attendance.

Exiting found you gushing to Mikey about everything you had seen. 

He was uncharacteristically quiet as he listened attentively with his hands in his hoodie pockets.

Your event successes were then cosmically balanced as you were forced to then cancel the next two events in a row.

The first being glass blowing, you especially felt terrible as this was their last public event before they had some sort of big project that would require full use of their studio. Every day a week up until the event, you’d tried to first ignore and then fend off your oncoming cold, but it was too late. Whatever bacteria that had taken root in your body triggered a fever the day of and even when you tried to ready yourself with a mask just to power through, you’d nearly collapsed in a coughing fit.

It meant that a phone call cancellation was out of the question and, for once, you were the one to send Mikey walls of texts in the form of at least three dozen separate apologies.

There was the non-refundable ticket price.

Your last minute abandonment.

The way you’d destroyed his only chance to go.

Swimming in a commingling of snot and tears from the exchange, Mikey sent you an audio response. Stopping crying only because you were forced to, you played it to find his lips a little too close to the microphone as he told you it was fine for what you quickly caught on was the exact number of apologies you had sent to him. Dotting the message off confirming that, he told you that money wasn’t really a thing to his family and that there would always be a next time.

Quickly writing back that he should go without you, another message popped up just as you hit send.

The play button on that one had a continuation where he explained the time limit to the spoken messages and that he’d rather wait for you with some cheesy line about it being an excuse to still see you four months from now. Laughing and then immediately choking for it, you thanked him and ordered yourself some soup from a place he recommended.

One had been fine, but two felt like pushing it.

Recovery came slowly for you, but you did eventually get better. The only thing was not all your ailments were of the tangible variety. Though your body had been repaired, your mind wasn’t so lucky and it was with utter dismay that you had to cancel your next event, a pottery class, simply because it was a bad anxiety day. Waking up knowing you were already in for it, you spent the day toiling in and out of attacks until the thought of even texting him was too much. You’d left work early to crawl into your bed to face the sea of brain inducing zaps and could only offer him stunted cancellation without grounds.

It took hours, but the next time you were able to bear looking at your phone it seemed the only thing that had kept Mikey from coming to see if you were still alive was that he didn’t know your address. Sending exhausted reassurances, you resisted promising a reschedule because it currently seemed like an impossibility.

Now standing in the face of a rock climbing wall, you almost wished it had been.

Guilt was the only thing that had gotten you here. You had been clear with Mikey that sporting events themselves were already not your thing and you thought by extension that participating in them yourself fell into the same category. Seemingly not, he’d pressed, not quite about your prior cancellations, but referring to coming here as the perfect way to catch up after not seeing each other for so long. Miserable and forced to confirm your attendance based on your delinquency alone, Mikey tugged on your harness.

“All good! Try for the first few hand holds and I’ll keep watch!”

Looking back at him with obvious horror, he only gave a thumbs up in response.

Returning to the colorful wads of gum that marked where you grab, you dusted your hands with a fine powder for traction before catching the first and trying to hoist yourself up.

After three consecutive falls where you never made it more than a foot off the wall, you were ready to throw in the towel.

Completely unperturbed, Mikey was walking you through his seventh explanation of how to do it when you heard someone scoff right behind you. Flinching into the fake rocks and knowing exactly why, you wished you could cave the whole system in and bury yourself.

“Some people just aren’t made to climb!” The voice spat before you heard an aggressive slap of someone latching onto the wall a little too close to you.

Further shirking away and into Mikey, he didn’t offer the least bit of comfort as he rounded you. “Have you been climbing long?”

Eyes cracking open a little, you couldn’t believe how even Mikey’s voice was.

He almost sounded friendly. 

“Years!” The man retorted proudly where he was somewhere up halfway already. “You have to understand. There should be kiddie hours and adult swim. Lately this place has been swarmed with newbies and they take up so much space!”

“That has to be frustrating, especially when you just want to climb.”

You stole a glimpse to find the offending man blink with a registration that his complaints had not only been noticed, but seemingly hadn’t been judged. “Yeah… I… work all day, ya know? I just want to burn off some steam somewhere where I can get some upper mobility!”

“I do.” Mikey nodded as if he were stuck in some dead end job.

Was that true?

What was happening?

One minute this guy hated your guts and the next he’s spilling his motives.

Mikey had only said a few words at most.

None of them seemed particularly targeted.

It was that way he had spoken.

He had some innate ability to manipulate exchanges to his favor.

If he wanted to make you feel welcome, you’d feel it the moment he spoke those words into reality.

Knowing the same had happened to you, you heard a holler and looked up to find both men now scaling the wall at an alarming degree. Mind spinning as Mikey wasn’t wearing a harness, the pair only gave a few grunts before Mikey leaped up and slapped a bell. You took two large stumbling steps back as Mikey then landed with a squat right next to where you had just been. 

Mikey rose all too easily from where he’d just leapt 18 total feet. 

Eyes blown wide, you stumbled toward him in a frantic check to make sure his bones weren’t out of place.

Mikey didn’t address you and instead threw up a radiant smile to the man still on the wall. “Told ya!”

“You win!” The guy laughed back down.

Scented with a certain amount of fear, you were filled in on the climbing competition that had been struck up and Mikey introduced the man with his first and last name. Unable to believe this was someone Mikey already knew, you quickly found out it wasn’t. Instead, in the short few seconds you were thinking everything over, Mikey had somehow contracted this man into his echelon of friends.

Watching the pair bump fists, you could only wonder how Mikey was real. He had to be some figment your imagination had come up with to cope with your constant fear. There was no way a man this incredible could both exist and want to be near you for any length of time. You were a speck compared to him and must have been a drag upon his very being.

You held him back.

You kept him down.

Why you?

You wondered that all the way out of the gym that day and beyond. The texts still came. Mikey still for all intents and purposes was only doing what he cared to do and that for some inane reason was continuing his friendship with you. When you’d met he’d said something about spoiling you, but you had figured that was some kind of warped joke. 

Now. you wondered.

That intrigue only increased when he said he’d make up for the climbing incident with a low stakes board game night.

He was keeping your ability in mind for once and that had given you strength enough to agree. Apparently some local club had opened up their meet-ups for new contenders. It was exactly your sort of speed outside the new people to meet. They were contentious in your mind, but you had played many a board games in your years. It was a safe activity as long as the right board was chosen and the best low key way to hang out with the few friends you had. Never once having had a table flipped on you, you enjoyed the various rules enough and most known games stood the test of time. Wondering if you should bring one of your own, Mikey texted you to wait to see how it goes though he liked your eager attitude.

Telling him you were going to crush it, you only wished now that you hadn’t allowed yourself to get so cocky. Something you should have known by the way their ad had been worded. These people weren’t playing Monopoly. They were playing intricate games that spanned lifetimes in which you had to manage literal civilizations while also plotting conquest of nations. There were pandemics to avoid and zombie outbreaks to survive. Each game lengthy and with a set of rules the size of a novel, you struggled through the first game before the overwhelmingness of it all caught your throat.

Silence found you trapped as the other players screamed at each other. You had been thrust into a cooperative form of a game that had once been about beating each other out on tokens. Not sure when the switch had occurred, a second lengthy rule book had emerged and you were trying to parse out the totally new set of rules when it was ripped from your hands. You were told to learn as you went and no amount of mumbling your confusion swayed the other players. Not knowing what you were doing, one of your decisions had led to your ultimate demise. Whatever was happening now, it seemed the gist was that in two turns everyone would lose and it had all come to fruition based on a move you had taken what seemed like hours ago.

Though no one had actually attacked you personally for it, they had brought up your move over and over as they desperately tried to strategize a way to still win.

“This was why I said we shouldn’t open the game nights up…”

The remark had been passive.

One meant for the person next to the commenter.

Not for your ears, but you’d heard it.

It had somehow cut through the rabble rousing and you sank so far down in your chair until you nearly folded in half.

Mikey’s silence wasn’t helping.

He’d also written you off. 

You knew you shouldn’t rely on him to save you every time, but he was your guiding light.

Wasn’t it an unspoken agreement that he would take charge?

You’d told him about your troubles first thing.

He had a front row seat to your spirals.

He also never stepped in until damage was done. 

Had that been intentional?

He had so much on his plate, how could you expect him to notice everything?

You didn’t.

This was a board game.

Not the end of the world.

There’d be more games.

Not all were easy to win.

There were no stakes.

You just wouldn’t ever come to this particular group again.

That was fine.

There were millions of people in New York.

Ready to call it an early night, a voice cut through the arguing.

“What if I use my movement to return to Costa Rica?”

All heads at the table swiveled to Mikey, who had a finger curled under his chin as he stared at the board.

“That’s insane!”

“Back to…?”

“Wait…”

“Grab the rules!!”

Staring from the outside in, you watched the table erupt as planning switched gears. Someone announced it was possible and from there they began to bicker over what little chance that gave them. Finding a sliver of hope, they grabbed a paper and drew out the steps just in case. If followed exactly it would be a winning combination and they went through the motions with only a few dice rolls standing in their way. Clearing them as if on fate, the whole table rocketed upwards to congratulate each other.

A single tear slid down your face.

How did he always do that?

You hated yourself for thinking less of Mikey. You should have known better than to imagine him regretting bringing you to make him the fool. He didn’t think like that. The Mikey you had come to know was the sun. He continued to scorch the earth even when she put up her defenses. Just above atmosphere, he burned unperturbed. His sheer desire to be alive and live was indomitable. It was that fight that had taken him to calculated silence. He waged his celestial war in the quiet of his mind. Looking for that one little shred of hope, the ones he somehow always got his fingers on, he yanked the tapestry of life and rewove it to how he saw fit.

You were a joke.

His complete opposite in every possible way.

All you did was give up.

Run away.

Quietly getting up while the others drilled Mikey on how he’d done it, you left. Going straight home, you avoided Mikey’s texts for the next few weeks. Not strong enough to quit him completely, you did read all of them at nearly all hours which held its own culpability. He surely saw all your read receipts and you almost wished it would sour his opinion of you. Maybe then he would finally move on and you could start this process anew. You should have known better than to think you could hitch your wagon to someone else’s. You were supposed to venture out alone. This process had been about you wanting to do more. Mikey was too selfless for his own good. He didn’t realize he was dragging himself down. The space would help.

The only problem was, it didn’t.

Mikey didn’t seem to care that you never responded. He moved forward tenaciously and even invited you out two more times. You’d scorned the messages, but time had done something to you. You reflected on how surreal it all was. You’d warped your image of Mikey without realizing it. You’d given him godlike command over others. You thought him some kind of manipulator that could get anyone to do his bidding. It felt comical. A rewind found him instead ignorant of scorn or even happiness. He simply forged his own path so authentically that others couldn’t help to be drawn in no matter what their side. You swore he must have the ability to turn even the most speciesist person over into a mutant advocate given the chance.

He was your idol.

That skirted more tedious titles, but you refused to put him on a pedestal. It was because of his failings that he now appeared an achievable image. He was the golden standard of what you wished you could be. He was utterly immune to social anxiety and you craved the pride in which he held himself. He still retained his sun moniker, but now it was one of a laissez-faire ruler. Life may have proliferated from him, but not because of him. There were other powers at work, but his status was attainable. You could mimic him like a lowly sunflower that had forced its way through the concrete. You could move with him. You could catch his rays as he passed you by. 

The only thing you couldn’t figure out was what he got out of it. The him that was a person should have written you off as a moot point, but he hadn’t given up. Messages continued to roll in. The negative thoughts said he should have long ago, but another argued that you were yet another thing he chose to fight for. When you had seen him, he hadn’t shied away one bit. He’d thrown himself and, by proxy, you into each foray and fixed the outcome if it wasn’t to his liking.

He never once complained.

He’d told you it was fine hundreds of times.

He hadn’t dismissed your feelings.

He’d tried to reroute them.

Staring at your phone for yet another sleepless night, you saw he asked if you wanted to try something low-key next. His next few messages seemed to indicate that he thought maybe you’d been overwhelmed and had needed to take a step back. He said that he understood and mentioned something about two of his brothers who experienced the same thing. Promising only the utmost comfort by going to see a movie, you could only think he was too bright and that wasn’t just because your phone’s brightness was the only thing illuminating your dark room.

He was still singeing you.

The little burns would pile up.

The warmth was also undeniable.

Whatever it was he saw in you though, you were thankful for it. Whether he was oblivious or his spirit was something ethereally burning, your absence wasn’t one he worried over. In contrast, you felt a dangerous flicker as you pondered how easy it would be to take advantage of him. As you’d seen time and time again, once he decided something, he rolled with it. It didn’t matter how you and others treated him; he wanted to see the best in others.

Heart sinking, you wondered how many people had hurt him. It had to be impossible because he could turn anyone into his fan with only a few choice words, but there was still a chance.

You didn’t want that from him.

You: Aren’t you worried?

Chef: About what?

You waited for the inevitable message asking why you hadn’t responded, but it never came.

You: That I might not be a good person?

You watched the bubbles percolate before dozens of messages started to flood on your screen. Some testimonials and mostly things he felt, he dismissed your claims in his usual motormouth way. In or out of the digital world, you had always loved to listen. It took the conversational burden off of you and Mikey was made for that. Even if it was clear he sometimes missed your responses, you couldn’t be mad because he shared the whole of himself. To you it only felt like the pittance to pay in order to stand in his glory. You were gaining so much from him; there was no way you could question your guide. From how far you’d come and all the things you’d done, the night you met almost seemed like a distant memory.

Going alone had taken months of preparation. 

In that same time frame, you’d done more with Mikey than you’d done in your entire life.

Isn’t that what the movies taught?

People were stronger together. 

How could you return to a world without him there with you?

You: When and where did you want to do the movie?

You: Is there a theater near both of us?

You: Or would that be too much?

You: I realize now that I don’t know where you live…

You: Don’t feel like you have to tell me! 

You: Also

You: Thank you

How could you make it mean more?

Two words didn’t sum up how you felt. 

About him finding you. 

About him continuing to see you. 

About him not giving up on you. 

You could say it. 

You could show it. 

After a light discussion ironing out the specifics, a time slot was booked and plans were set. For all intents and purposes, everything had returned to normal, but this time you were prepared. You were going to be worthy of his time. A student with a gold star, you did your best to keep up with his messages until the day of. Meeting after work, Mikey offered to walk you to the theater as what he phrased as your bodyguard. Laughing at the imagery of him bouncing your bad thoughts away, he mentioned where he’d be arriving from which was an approximation of his address.

When you looked it up it had been a block with what you thought were empty buildings. 

You couldn’t put it past Mikey to have some sort of kitschy bobby like flipping houses. You wondered where and when he picked up carpentry when you emerged from your apartment to find him right on time waiting out front. Greeting you easily, you started down the street and made it a few blocks before he stopped dead. Not as quick as him, you made it a few more feet before you turned to find him patting himself down in a flurry. Arms moving faster than you could track, he went a new shade of pale green under the streetlamp.

“I left my phone at home!”

Going on high alert, you fumbled for yours. “Y-you h-have the t-tickets, b-but I think… um…? D-did you… send me a c-copy?”

“Did I!?” He appeared over your shoulder to look down at your device as he turned his pockets out. 

“O-Oh…” You scrolled through the texts and found he’d only told you the details. “No…”

He clicked his tongue. “Ugh! So dumb!! I left my wallet too!”

“M-maybe you c-could login with m-my-”

“Let’s swing by my place, it’ll only take a second.” He groaned to the sky.

Startling to attention, you stuttered nonsense.

From the area he gave you, it wasn’t far, but it certainly wasn’t close.

If you headed there and backtracking then you’d be cutting it close to the movie time.

“Come on! It’s this way!” He gestured and took few leading steps backward.

Your phone seemed to complain about the time, but the impatient thunk of his shoes moved you to follow him.

You were curious about what he described as a lair.

The oddest choice when it came to nicknaming your house, he went on about how their last place was blown up before they found this one. Unable to place whatever reference he was making, a few turns took you to a less populated area. Nervously sticking close to your light, you descended a dirty old stairwell to where a door was chained up. With what looked like a wave of his hand, Mikey undid the metal and opened the entrance with a sweeping gesture. Staring into a black abyss, you made a nervous sound which caused Mikey to look up.

Seeing what he’d opened to, he laughed at himself. “Kinda horrifying when you haven’t memorized the steps. Let’s use your phone’s flashlight.”

Doing that in a few clicks, he hopped ahead after locking the door back up and, for a moment, you thought the worse. Trapped down where no one would ever find you, Mikey could have been playing some long con and you were about to disappear for good. Not wanting that, you trembled a little as Mikey continued forward. He whistled a jaunty tune and left you without choice. You scrambled after him as he led you down to an old subway station where he jumped down onto the rails. Overlooking the drop yourself, you found him holding his hands up as if to catch you.

“Don’t worry! I’ve got you and this old thing’s out of service. The access door is literally right around the corner from here!”

You decided that if you were going to die at least your final moments had been interesting.

Doing what had to be the worst leap, Mikey caught you with ease and set you down as if he’d done that a hundred times. His lackadaisical show of strength came as an auspicious one. If he wasn’t out to kill you, he could surely protect you. As if reading your thoughts, he filled the empty air with talk security in place. From what had to be jokes about lasers to something about surveillance, you wondered who would ever want to hurt Mikey. 

You were left guessing as, true to his word, it had been a short walk to said entrance. 

Mikey gave another bowing offer by opening the door for you and you were led through a set of contrastingly well lit tunnels. It spoke of life even if the space was barren and you headed toward what appeared to you as a subway depot. A place where cars were stored for later, there were several laid out on various tracks and soft fairy lights strung over nearly every part of the ceiling.

“Welcome to the turtle all-in-one super lair!” Mikey spun away from you with his hands in the air.

Unable to keep your eyes in one spot, you saw gorgeous graffiti layered on the walls and that the place was tidy though clearly lived in. Mikey went on a new tangent about how the cars had been retrofitted into rooms and how one day, when he had more time, he would show you the kitchen. Not anywhere near processing his words, you were left as he politely excused himself to get his missing items.

Hang tight, he said. 

You could spend hours here, as if in a museum, and not see everything. 

You thought you responded, but your mouth hung open at the expanse. You gaped as you traced the architecture to where an atrium opened up and revealed three stories. Stairs moved around like an Escher painting and you could only imagine their limitless possibilities. They breathed life and soft music poured down the steps closest to you. Wandering closer to take a peek, you found faint light was also escaping from what had to be a television. 

You had already chosen to stop when a sharp silhouette interrupted the glow. 

What had Mikey told you?

You couldn’t remember, but you felt like you were snooping. 

It was on that instinct that you ducked behind the brick archway. 

Steps soon matched the shape that moved at a leisurely pace.

Your heart beat a nervous clock when you saw a blue-coded turtle. 

You placed him instantly. 

Mikey loved photographs. 

This was Leonardo. 

He hit the landing with bowed legs as he walked and read a comic at the same time.

You were very much gawking. 

He was slow to stop and, when he did, he took a deep breath. 

His head then snapped to your direction with sharpened focus. “Yeah, maybe you missed the no soliciting sign, but…!”

Comic gone, he was all blue light and swords. 

You flailed frantically. “I’m with Mikey!!”

Cold steel stopped inches from your face and Leonardo’s whole demeanor shifted. “Oh, wait! Y/N? Didn’t you two have a movie tonight?

“H-h-h-h-he f-f-f-forg-got h-h-his w-w-w-allet…!!!” You didn’t think you could manage the another word.

“H-h-h-huh.” Leo remarked back, not quite mocking. “You cold or something? Don’s got the temp set to something good I thought.”

With a shrug, his weapons disappeared in another flash.

Star.

This man was a shooting star.

He burned with flashes of ferocity so bright you had to turn away.

From what you’d been told, he commanded even more.

From what you could see, you bet he could also disappear just as well as his swords.

Unable to get a steady voice, your gaze hit the floor.

You felt Leo continue to evaluate you. “You good?”

You nodded.

He’d think you were insane.

Your actions didn’t sync up with your lack of words at all.

You felt him smile more than you saw it. “Did Mikey ever tell you about the time he got his skateboard stuck in a sewer grate?”

Blinking a few times, you were shy to peer at Leo. “M-mikey.. .skateboards?

Leo’s wicked grin split his face. “We all did.”

You watched on with growing interest. 

“I can’t believe I put my wallet in the microwave again!” Mikey clambered down the stairs.

“-and that’s why Mikey was the last of us to be potty trained!”

You giggled from behind your hand.  

“Nope!!!” Mikey screeched on the last step. “Leo, what are you doing!?!”

“You left your friend here all alone!” Stepping through the large space Leo had given you, the blue turtle moved behind you to gently take each of your upper arms as if to show you off. “I was entertaining our guest! Being a good host! Filling them in on all your most embarrassing memories! Normal stuff!”

You chewed your lip to keep from laughing.

“They’re lies!!! All of them!! Lies!!!” In a fit of anxiety you watched Mikey claw around him. 

Where there was nothing, he caught something and he ripped the air with a tear of orange light.

Life force leaving you, you felt Leo’s grip tighten as Mikey shoved through the hole he’d somehow created.

You didn’t hear the second rip as much as you saw it appear next to you. 

Mikey then walked out of it and into your face. “What did he tell you!?”

You gasped like a fish taking its last breath.

A ominous shadow appeared, casting darkness over Mikey’s overly wound form. 

Only you looked up to find a hulking red turtle that you knew to be Raphael. 

The eldest used the whole of his hand to grab Mikey’s shell. 

He then lifted the turtle straight into the air, away from you, while you leaned so far back into Leo that you thought you’d be on the ground otherwise. 

“You’re making a racket! Both of you cut it out! You’re freaking people out!” Raph huffed and you couldn’t shake  how he was at least ten times the size that he appeared in any photo you’d ever seen of him. “Sorry about that. Y/N, right? I’m Raph, nice to meet’cha!”

This was their ground.

Large and all encompassing, this man had to be their rock.

Not just because he was big enough to support all of them on his carapace, in that sense he was the size of the Earth, but because his very essence oozed compassion.

You imagined he worked twice as hard as Sisyphus.

“That being said…” Raph dropped his scolding for a snicker. “Which story did you go with, Lee? Potty training?” 

Mikey screamed and fought his air jail.

He was also very much a big brother.

“Oh yeah!” Leo cooed triumphantly. “And the bull story and the skateboard-gum incident!”

Flames exploded and Raph flicked his hands as if bacon grease had splattered up at him.

Once again, Leo was your cane as you watched Mikey shake off being on actual fire like it was a few measly water droplets.

“No more!!!” Once doused, Mikey caught you and pulled you straight away from Leo.

Crashing into his hard plastron you heard Leo and Raph chorus for Mikey to be careful.

“We have to go! Movie starting and all!” Mikey screamed to the ceiling.

“We haven’t all introduced ourselves!” Raph added, sounding a bit sad.

“Speak for yourself.” Leo rolled his eyes.

“Did you? Or did you launch straight into humiliatin’ our lil bro?” Raph’s brow ridge rose under his mask.

“Hey look, there’s Donnie!” Leo waved just as Mikey yanked on your arm trying to get you away. 

You looked over to where a fourth, purple clad turtle had just descended the stairs. Caught like a wild animal on film, he was the picture of a gremlin. Hunched forward, goggles down, in a stained hoodie, and holding an ungodly sandwich with a calories count the likes of which you had never seen from a home kitchen, the man only reviewed Mikey with a sort of tepid affection before staring you down with what you could only identify as malice.

Mikey released you and jumped the distance to tackle the new brother.

Donnie dropped his hatred for a smile and twisted around so his sandwich would remain unharmed as he caught his younger brother.

If that wasn’t a reflection of the sun, you didn’t know what was.

With a cold icy exterior that sat in the dark expanse of space, Donatello had to be the moon in your little cosmic parallels.  

Mikey nuzzled his cheek to Donnie’s and, with his free arm, the older brother carried the younger back over.

That gaze, merciless and seemingly ever-present, Donnie glowered at you all the way until he deposited Mikey by your side.

“I knew you had a face only pops could love, but damn Don, if you keep mean muggin’ like that and you’re gonna lose your last fan!” As soon as Mikey was gone, Leo tried to slot himself against the purple man.

Donnie looked like he had a retort, but he bit down on it to sidestep at the last second and caused the blue brother to fall onto his face.

Raph’s large hands dragged down his cheeks so hard that it peeled his lower lids. “Why can we never get through introductions!?”

“Because you don’t take threats seriously.” Donnie turned from an outright glare in your direction to a stewing nature towards the oldest.

“Now hold on!” Raph threw an annoyed finger in Donnie’s face. “Raph is the king worrier! You all know that. Right, Mike?”

“Raph has the worry crevice.” Mikey nodded.

“Right!” Raph started and then spun around, offended. “Wait! No! Not this again!” 

“Told ya!” Leo pumped his fists from where he was still on the ground, now reclined as if he’d always been that way.

Mikey mentioned villains.

It had been a joke, right?

Mikey mentioned calamities.

That was just New York.

Mikey mentioned powers. 

He had the emotional prowess of a psyhcologist. 

Mikey had mentioned so many, many things.

Mikey had said so much.

Too much.

None of it had felt real.

Mikey had a penchant for exaggeration.

It only hit you then. 

These were the heroes who saved New York.

They saved the planet.

They’d been a rumor. 

They’d then been famous. 

Fame tapered off. 

They had returned to whispers. 

Taking a step back from them all, you felt precariously placed.

You weren’t supposed to see this.

Mikey had ripped through space-time and you were now supposed to go see a movie with him.

You couldn’t imagine sitting next to him for two odd hours knowing what he could do.

He’d combusted into flames.

Leo had reached through space as well.

What could the others do?

Had Mikey told you?

They were so strong.

Your earlier thoughts of disappearing reared their head.

They couldn’t just kill you, they could eradicate you.

Stumbling slightly, words trickled off your lips. “I-I’m here because M-Mikey… w-wants me to be...”

Why had you said that?

Were you trying to convince yourself?

Did you believe that?

“Oh-me-gosh!” Mikey gasped and, in two skipping steps, he hugged you. “Y/N! You said it! You actually said it! No pity or anything!” 

You nodded against him, feeling your body wilt as your brain rallied about what he was capable of.

Spinning up off the floor, everything blurred. “You’ve come so far! I’m so proud!! Good job, good job!!”

You saw snippets of the others as if time stopped when you passed them.

Raph smiling in a knowing way.

Leo grinning mischievously.

Donnie’s grimace.

A sound came from Mikey’s phone and he took the time to set you down methodically before grabbing it. “The movie! We’re so late! Oh man!! The credits are gonna start!! I wanted to see what’s coming soon!”

Leo sat up, rolling his shoulders in a stretch. “What’s the address?”

“One million Run of the Mill pizzas to you good sir!!!” Mikey cried happy tears and dropped to a knee that honored the glory of his brother.

“If only your tab wasn’t already worth ten lifetimes!” Leo bemoaned as with a flick, there was a sword back in his hand and he sliced open a large blue disc right into the air.

“Eh, I’ll serve my sentence eventually.” Mikey laughed brightly as he tugged you through and you both appeared right in front of the movie theater.   You had to take a moment not to throw up.

💛NEXT💛

Always shouting out my beats @tmntxthings and @thepinkpanther83

[softfem-dom]

IT OC

HONEY WILSON 🌷

𝒄𝒓𝒚𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒚

𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒚 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒔𝒐𝒏

pronuns : she / her.

birthday : 15th april.

role in school : local sweetheart. a girls' girl.

popularity : not high, not low. average student.

friend group : unpresented in the movies. close friends with connor. best friends with gard jagermeyer.

character trait : is very sensitive (aka where her nickname came from). is very prone to get hurt (hits, cuts, scratches, falls, bumps, etc, etc..).

obsession / hyperfixation : she is completely obsessed over the war (first ww, second ww, and the vietnam war) due to intense trauma. Also completely obsessed over criminals and psychology, probably cuz shes a bit paranoid and wants to know how deranged minds work.

physical illness(es) : not any permament. prone to bruises, cuts, scratches and other minimal injuries.

RELATIONSHIPS W MAIN CHARACTERS

beverly marsh : acquaintances. share class. ben hasscom : they don't know each other. she just knows he's the new kid. richie tozier : acquaintances. she has saved him twice from bower's claws. stan uris : casual friends. they used to play togheter when they were kids. eddie kaspbrak : casual friends. their usual hang out spot is the nurse's office, they're always sick/hurt. mike hanlon : they don't know each other, but visually know each other. ,,

patrick hockstetter : creepy molester. bullies her (in a more light way idk). they just gravitate towards each other. fights with moose over her. henry bowers : friends (through connor n gard). neighbours. he mocks her constantly. prohibited the gang from bullying her hardcore since she is his baby cousin's and minion's friend. belch huggins : bullies her (by honking his car at her and scaring her). has actually been tutored by her. victor criss : coexists with her. they're not friends, not acquaintances, neither he bullies her.

,,

gard jagermeyer : best friends. possible romantic interest. neighbours. peter gordon : neutral friends. they know each other n stand each other. just not that emotionally close. moose sandler : aggressive molester. kinda just stalker-ish behaviour. he displays sexual interest in her. kind of a bully too. ,, connor bowers : very close friends. constantly seen hanging out together. ppl believe them to be a couple (which is obv not true).

@patricks-hockstetters-lighter

[hannyoontify]

m a s t e r l i s t . . .

key : a – angst | f – fluff | h – humor | s – slow burn | h/c – hurt/comfort | ★ - kie's personal fav!

❏ all works are gn!reader unless specified otherwise

ot13

seventeen as your older brothers

seventeen's reaction to you stopping to tie your shoelace

seventeen and their love language – 95 line | 96 line | 97 line | maknae line

how your relationship with seventeen was revealed

new years kiss w seventeen

i n d i v i d u a l m e m b e r s

seungcheol

lessen your burden | [a, hurt no comfort]

april showers bring may flowers | [h/c, f?] ★

your cherry flavored kisses | [f, high school!au]

[16:14]

jeonghan

[23:58]

[20:27] ★

[01:48]

my love language is tteokbokki | [f. comfort]

[21:49]

dream | [f]

my lighthouse | [f. comfort]

[21:23]

joshua

[02:55]

an interview with an angel | [f, meet cute] ★

junhui

[15:47]

ikea shopping w jun

hoshi

hoshi and kissing you

[01:41]

little stars | [f]

wonwoo

professional gamerbf!wonwoo

[01:36]

the best birthday gift | [f, h, high school!au]

woozi

woozi and the comfort of his studio

minghao

[13:39]

[23:47]

mingyu

morning dew be damned | [h, f?, meet cute]

[17:26]

die with a smile | [f, h/c, a, ★]

dokyeom

seungkwan

beautiful stranger | [s, h?]

[07:09]

vernon

[16:46]

[23:01]

dino

loving best friend!chan

© hannyoontify 2024 | all rights reserved | do not copy, repost, or translate without permission

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Five Fics Friday: April 19/24

Happy Friday everyone! Check out today's selection of fics to get you through the weekend! And be sure to give the boosted fic some extra love, as it JUST finished being written! :D Enjoy!!

SIGNAL BOOSTING

The Curious Case of the Casablanca Killer by meet_me_in_samarra (G, 55,886 w., 16 Ch. || Post THoB, Case Fic, Bromance / Friendship, Clever John, John is a Conductor of Light, BAMF John / Sherlock, Sassy John, Cheeky Sherlock) – Deemed a three at best, the case of an invisible burglar in a historic cinema who stole nothing only caught Sherlock’s attention because he was bored. Also, he wanted to do John a favour. In the end, this proved to be a real stroke of luck. Otherwise, Sherlock would have missed an intriguing mystery that quickly ramped up in complexity.

RECENT MFLs

Licence to Kiss by fellshish (T, 13,740 w., 4 Ch. || Post-ASiB, Bond Jokes, Angst and Humour, First Kiss, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining) – John loves James Bond. For his Birthday, Sherlock decides to organise a spy adventure. Sherlock begs Mycroft for a real case with some extra gadgets. And perhaps some actors pretending to be criminals. What could possibly go wrong?

Guess Who's Coming for Christmas Dinner by Raina_at (E, 18,623+ w., 2/4 Ch. || WiP || University AU || Fake / Pretend Relationship, Accidental Fake Dating, , Oblivious John / Sherlock, Mistaken for Being in a Relationship, Christmas, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Alcohol, Past Drug Use, Not-Nice Holmes Family) – Sherlock hates spending Christmas with his snobby parents. John has nowhere to go over the holidays. The heat in 221B is broken and their fridge is empty. Plus, Sherlock's parents will hate John. So of course Sherlock takes John along. It's not his fault that his parents assume John's his boyfriend. Of course John is perfect and all, but Sherlock doesn't do romance. So what harm can there be in pretending, if it makes his parents this mad?

Only Yesterday by Berty (T, 43,378+ w., 17/18 Ch. || Alternate Timelines / 'Yesterday' AU || Post-TRF, POV John, Grief, Mental Instability, Angst, Unrequited Love, Suspense, Scotland, Hurt John, Developing Relationship, Doctor John, John is a Mess) – Sherlock has been gone for two years and John Watson is doing okay. He goes to work. He sleeps (sometimes). He eats. He has colleagues, some of whom are even friends. He has purpose. If it's not a life as others might view it, it's a fair approximation. It's fine. He's fine. One night the lights go out and when they come back on everything is the same except for one important thing. For John it's the most important thing. And suddenly John is not fine at all.

RECENTLY BOOKMARKED LOKIUS FICS

Magic Like You by Anonymous (NR [M], 9,714 w., 5 Ch. || LOKI SERIES || Post-S2, Light Angst, Soft, Friends to Lovers, Jotunn Loki, Pining Loki, Heavy Pining, Bed Sharing, Jealous Loki, POV Loki, Living Together, First Kiss/Time) – Loki and Mobius are trying to carve out a new life for themselves after all the chaos and hurt and destruction that was caused by the TVA. This story explores Loki's new life and his relationship to Mobius through magic. (With lots of stupid fun and soft moments along the way, because with these two, it's inevitable.)

[fishsticksloser]

Eyes Wide Open

Leo + fem!reader & Raph x fem!reader

Warnings: mutual pinning, mentions of marriage, fluff, aged up, no tcest!!!

A/N: Leo looks up to Raph, so I think this makes sense... :)

Leo │ Donnie │ Mikey

Chilling with Leo was always a fun time. He was hilarious and just a joy to be around. You 2 had been skateboarding, practicing your skills and whatnot, laughing every time one of you failed a move.

"I wish you were my sister." Leo confesses as you 2 sit on the edge of the ramp.

"Of course I'm your sister." You lean against the blue turtle.

"Not really... I mean..." Leo sighs. "I want you to actually be my sister like April is. We've had time to build that relationship, 14 years. We haven't really gotten that with you. But..."

"But?" You press.

"If you married Raph, you could be my sister." Leo grins. He knew, of course he did. You told him. He was your best friend, other than Raph anyways.

"W-What!?" You choke on your drink. "I can't marry Raph!"

"Oh come on!" Leo cackles, standing up. "You 2 are all over each other, all the time."

"We are not!" You scoff, standing up as well. "He doesn't even like me like that..."

"Oh?" Leo smirks. "Are you sure?"

Of course, he didn't let you answer, not that you had an answer anyways. Because you weren't sure. You had no idea if Raphael shared the same feelings you did.

"I guess there's one way to find out..." You mumble to yourself. You flew down the ramp and ran to Raph's room. "Hey, Raph?"

"It's open." Raph calls. You walk into his room, he's laying down reading. "Hi. I thought you were hanging out with Leo today?"

"Oh he ditched me, per usual." You joke. Raph scoots over and you sit next to him. "Actually... I had a question."

"Shoot." He smiles, closing the book.

"Do you like me?"

"Of course I like you. You're my best friend."

"Raph... Please don't make me say it like we're 8 years old."

"I don't know what you mean."

You situate yourself to be sitting in front of him, facing him. You wring your hands, nervous. The worst that could happen is he rejects you. Raphael is the sweetest person... uh... mutant you've ever met, he'd never ridicule you.

You took a deep breath.

"Raph, I have feelings for you." You tried not to think about what was coming out of your mouth. If you did, you'd never get through it. "More than a friend feelings."

"Like... Best friend feelings?" He asks.

"More than best friend feelings." You laugh. He really was clueless. "I want to be more than best friends."

"R-Really?" He stumbles, leaning forward. You nod. "Now I feel bad... I was trying to find a way to tell you the same thing."

"Really?" You laugh. The nervousness melted off. Raphael reached out to you, hesitantly. Once his hand touched your face, you leaned into it. Raph leaned forward and kissed you, gently.

"Yes!" You hear Leo cheer outside Raph's bedroom.

[leclerqueensainz]

A Family Of Three (C.L 16) - Prologue

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x OC!Marie Anderson Synopsis: Charles and Marie ended any chance of a relationship years ago. They just didn't expect to have to share custody of a child after the death of their best friend.

*In this story, Jules Bianchi died in 2019, not 2015, which changes some facts in the careers of the drivers.*

English is not my first language and there may be some errors throughout the chapters! I did my best and hope it is easy to understand.

⚠️Warning: Mention of Jules' death and difficulties in dealing with grief. Overall, there's a lot of angst, sorry!

Word Count: 1.099.

🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨

April 19, 2019 - Monte Carlo, Monaco

Inhale.  One, two, three. Exhale.

Inhale.  One, two, three. Exhale.

Inhale.  One, two, three. Exhale.

Inhale.  Don't cry.  One, two, three. Exhale.

Inhale.  Don't cry, dammit! One, two, three. Exhale.

Inhale.  Wake up, Marie. One, two, three. Exhale.

Inhale.  Please wake up, please. One, two, three. Exhale.

"Marie?"  Charles' voice makes me lose my focus. "We need to go in." I'm facing away from him. I don't want to look at him. I don't want my first image of him to be of him in black, in a church. at the funeral of one of our best friends.

Inhale.  Don't cry.  Don't look at my ex-boyfriend. Wake up from this horrible nightmare. Exhale.

"Dear, let's go." "We have to do this for him." He touches my shoulder.

Cold.  Charles' hand is cold on my shoulder. Too cold.  cold like a corpse. cold like Jules.

Don't I have a coat on? Why don't I have a coat on? I don't remember putting one on. Hell, I forgot to put on a coat before leaving the house.

"I forgot to put on a coat." And that's what I say. The first thing I say to my ex-boyfriend after six months without seeing him is, "I miss you." It's what I say to Charles in front of the church where our best friend's body will be mourned.

Charles doesn't say anything. He takes his hand off my shoulder. I can feel and hear his movements behind me, and in a few seconds, the warmth of his jacket warms me up.

"Feeling better now?" he asks. But it's not better. I need my coat.

"I need to go home and get my coat." I say.

"Take mine, Marie." He says.  tense and tired voice.

But I don't want to. I don't want to accept his jacket. I want to go home and get my coat.

"No," I repeat. "I want my coat." I don't want your jacket. "I need to go home and get my coat, Charles." I turn to him.

And there it is: the shadow of a man I once loved and still love. Broken.  Lifeless.  Anyone looking at him now could swear it was him who would be buried today.

lifeless with green eyes, hopeless. Just tired, exhausted. I hate him now. I hated having to look at him like this. Seeing him finished I'm not used to this. I'm not used to forgetting my coat. I'm not used to losing friends or burying them.

"Marie..."  He takes a deep breath. "Don't do this, please." Let's go in. "They need us." Lifeless eyes shine with tears.

My heart tightens. I don't want to feel this now.

Inhale.  One, two, three. Exhale.

"I don't want to go in there without my coat, Charles." It hurts.

"I know. But you need to go in there, Marie." He says.  "You need to go in there with me." His voice is low. "You need to go in there with me, because I can't do this without you." “I need you now, Marie.” "Please, please, please." And he cries.

The shadow of the man I love cries. And I cry too. because it hurts. And it hurts because it's wrong. It's wrong because I shouldn't be wearing my ex-boyfriend's jacket. It's wrong because I shouldn't have forgotten my coat. It's wrong because we shouldn't be here. It's wrong because we shouldn't be burying our best friend. It's wrong because Jules shouldn't have died.

We shouldn't go to Jules' funeral, but we go anyway. Holding hands.  with heavy souls and broken hearts. me and the shadow of the man I love. Both of us Two shadows of what we used to be

Charles' hand remains cold, even intertwined with mine. His body trembles, slowly but enough to be noticeable to those who pay close attention.

Our steps are heavy down the church aisle. There are invisible chains with lead balls at the ends, which do not allow us to walk faster. And there are invisible hands pressing our heads down so we can't lift our gazes forward.

We stop in front of the few steps that separate us from the coffin. I look at Charles; Charles looks at me. Both are in mourning. He nods to me, and I squeeze his hand. We climb one step at a time. slowly, without haste. too afraid that everything is too real. that we have to say goodbye so soon.

"You came."  Christine's voice is present behind us.

We stop climbing and face each other, Charles and I. Charles with his lifeless eyes full of tears and me with a too-tight heart

We turn around, our hands quickly separating and joining again with the movement.

Christine is there. also in mourning. lifeless and without the heart that is probably inside the coffin with her son's lifeless body.

I wish I could say some comforting words to her. But how can you comfort a woman without a heart? My condolences?  My feelings?  All of this seems meaningless now. It feels too empty.

Charles clears his throat. The grip on my hand gets stronger.

"We're so sorry, Christine." His voice sounds even more broken.

I just stare at her. Standing there in front of me, wearing that heavy mourning that warms her flesh but leaves her soul as cold as my ex-boyfriend's hand, She thanks Charles for the greetings and stares at me. eyes so swollen from crying.

I know it hurts her to see us here, so alive, while her son's body is slowly decaying in that coffin. I know it goes through her head how unfair this is. How wrong it is for her son, who always fought to keep us together, to be the only one not here now.

She continues to stare at me, waiting. But I keep my mouth closed and empty, just like everything else in me. Minutes pass, and we both stare at each other in pain. I wanted to say the most beautiful words to her, but now I can only think of the ugliest and cruelest ones, because none of this is beautiful. It's horrible and raw.

She climbs a few steps, stopping just one below where we are. Her tall stature makes us the same height. She reaches out and takes my hand, which is free from Charles' grip. Then, without any more words, she pulls me towards her and hugs me. I hug her back and pull Charles to join us. There were no words. Just pain and mourning.