#but all of a sudden its like. skyrocketed

[audioexorcisms]

like literally something happened to me

[ohnoitstbskyen]

The overwhelming misery of going viral on YouTube

In April of 2021, I posted a short to YouTube - a 60 second video in the format of their TikTok competitor. In the nature of shorts, it was a one-minute, necessarily un-nuanced hot take about a subject I like to talk about: character design. Specifically I made the mistake of lamenting that the character design of female heroes in major games tend to prioritize attractiveness rather than using their body shape to do storytelling about their lives or capabilities.

It did okay, garnering about 38k views in its first month. Didn't set the world on fire, but I got my point out there, and while there were some crappy comments, for the most part people seemed to understand what I was driving at.

The short had eventually climbed to about 100.000 views after a full year of being online, which is respectable, but in the world of YouTube Shorts a fairly middle-of-the-road level of success (these are extremely short videos being served extremely quickly to a huge base of users). Fast forward to November 8th of this year, and... something happens. More than a year after it was originally published, it starts gaining traction.

Slowly at first, a few thousand views, but by the 14th it's gained 80.000 views in a day. On the 16th, 400.000, on the 17th, 680.000. I have no idea why this is happening, there's no influx of viewers from any outside source, there's no topical news event that would make the video suddenly relevant.

I tweet about it, bemused by the sudden jump, but also hinting a bit at the other side of this story.

"There Is No Such Thing As Negative Press"

On YouTube, there is on the systemic level very little difference between positive attention and negative attention. If you create excellent work that brings joy into people's lives, they engage with your video and the algorithm reads that as success. And if you create miserable, hateful content that makes people angry and stokes them to responses of outrage, disgust or jeering, the algorithm reads that as a kind of success, too.

Hate-bait and rage-bait YouTubers operate in that latter space, churning out inflammatory or distressing content, hoping to elicit either reactions of horror, or gleeful cheering from people who like it when their favourite online personality trolls the Other.

But there's another way to garner negative attention, and that is to create content which is not at all designed to bait or elicit a negative response, but whose subject matter nonetheless produces a negative response from a certain kind of person.

That is the unfortunate slip-and-slide I have found myself on.

At the time of writing, the short sits at 6.8 million views, has been gaining on average 2 million views per day, and it still seems to be accelerating. Despite those skyrocketing numbers, however, it only ("only") has around 1300 published comments underneath it.

That is because, after the first couple of million views, I told YouTube to automatically hold all comments for review. That is, YouTube allows users to comment on the video, but those comments are not published until I manually approve them.

The reason I did this is... well, it's easier to show you with some pictures. Content warning, these are unfiltered YouTube comments, so expect casual bigotries.

These are screenshots from the "held for review" tab of my YouTube Studio backend. YouTube in recent years has gotten good at filtering out content like overt racial slurs and the worst of the worst insults, which is nice, but the filtered comments tab is still not a particularly pleasant place to read through right now.

Most of the comments are like what you see above: casually rude, fatphobic, homophobic, transphobic or otherwise unpleasant. Some of the comments are more intense, threatening me with violence, insulting me personally, "I hope your mom gets raped by a [racial slur]," and worse. The worst comments are a small percentage, but as you can imagine, they do stand out in the mind, and a small percentage of a huge number can still be a lot of comments.

And that's the thing. There are hundreds, and hundreds, and hundreds, and hundreds of comments. I scrolled for fifteen minutes and did not see the end of it. YouTube doesn't keep a visible count on how many comments are held for review, but I'd not be surprised if the 1300 comments count would have been doubled if I hadn't stopped it when I did. And since the video is still accelerating, that number is likely to skyrocket as well.

This provides me with the best theory I have as to why the video took off: the YouTube algorithm started showing it not to people who it thought would like it, but to people it thought would dislike it enough to react, to comment. And the more people did comment, the more the algorithm showed it to other people just like those who commented, who were also likely to dislike it.

This causes a feedback loop of negative attention, which the YouTube algorithm (horrifyingly) interprets as a success and an incentive to keep pushing the video.

Moderating this comments section is now physically impossible - I would need a staff of a dozen to handle it, which I can't afford and who I wouldn't want to expose to it, and while this deluge is going on, moderating the comments of other videos becomes next to impossible as well, since the "held for review" tab is utterly monopolized.

One fix for this problem, of course, is to simply disable the comments. But in my experience, doing that only encourages the worst of the commenters to seek out your other content and leave even worse comments there instead. In fact, a couple of dozen particularly irate people have already sought out my other channels to post insults there, adding to the stress and workload of dealing with all this viral "success."

How YouTube Makes YouTubers Worse

This situation is stressful, because humans are monkey creatures with monkey brains that do not like being exposed to a constant stream of rudeness, cruelty and casual bigotry. However rational you try to be about it, however detached and cold, it wears on you. It chips away at your mental defenses and becomes a constant source of low-level stress and misery.

But as far as YouTube is concerned, it's a huge success.

YouTube's systems are all set up this way. They celebrate increases in numbers with cheerful messages and positive green arrows and "helpful" statistics showing just how much things are growing - meanwhile, if you post otherwise positively received work that doesn't attract as much attention, it will give you dour "your content received fewer views due to lower interest this month" messages and greyed-out downward arrows. If you have a video that does really well on the numbers, YouTube will even play a little fireworks animation on its statistics to celebrate.

It's a form of not-so-subtle psychological manipulation. As a YouTuber you are dependent on your statistics to inform your work - if your rent depends on making those numbers go up, you essentially have no choice but to pay attention to them and let them guide your decision making. And so YouTube designs its systems to push its creators towards the behaviour that the platform finds most beneficial: numbers optimizing.

And the thing is, if I went only by the numbers, I would look at the success of this short and go "oh, there's a viable content strategy here!"

I could try and replicate its "success" by creating more content around the same topic, by targeting the same kind of outrage-baiting, by identifying the contentious subjects and trigger points brought up by the angry people in the comments and hitting them repeatedly, hoping to make engagement fall out.

YouTube would reward me for that, quite handsomely, in fact, even as mental health and professional happiness would absolutely crater. I don't have the personality for that kind of content creation, it's not what I want to do with my work, it's not the kind of person I want to be.

But I am not immune to propaganda. I have already changed as a person from doing this job, I know this for a fact. My priorities have shifted, my wants and needs have changed. Not for the worse, I believe, not yet, but the platform is constantly, constantly pushing on me.

It's unpleasant and it's stressful. It's hostile design, coupled with primitive and insufficient moderation tools, coupled with an aggressive algorithm which will go out of its way to ensure your relationship with your audience is toxic, if that toxicity produces better numbers for the platform.

Viral success is often thought of as a desirable thing, something which can launch a career or skyrocket an unknown to success. The reality is, it is mostly just overwhelming. I'm a grown man and I have done online content creation for a long time, and I have learned strategies to manage toxic comments sections over years of experience.

But imagine if something like this happened to a sixteen year old. Imagine if it happened to a teenage girl just starting out making videos. Or a trans person. Or, hell, any person from a marginalized community. I am sheltered by my privileges, but I have seen how dark it gets and how fast it gets dark for people who don't have those extra protections.

Well, it does happen to them, and no matter how rancid, bigoted and horrible the abuse they receive, they will log in to YouTube Studio to see happy fireworks and "Nice! Your video got 20 million views!" with a little green upwards pointing arrow right next to it.

You might have seen articles and thinkpieces around "creator burnout," and I want you to know that a huge part of what burns creators out is the primitive, profit-optimizing, hostile systems that power these platforms and monetize our worst experiences on them as "engagement."

In case you're wondering how much money I've earned from those 6.8 million views, by the way, it's about $20.

YouTube says they're rolling out full Shorts monetization next year, so I guess I just picked the wrong month to go viral.

---

If this story resonated with you at all, do me a favor and leave a nice comment under the work of an online creator you enjoy. It helps more than you might think.

You can tip me on Patreon or Ko-fi if you want to.

[vctrvn-ls]

hi i love your writing it makes my heart feel so funny and warm so thank you🫶🏾🫶🏾. i was wondering if you could write for sharky. maybe something about sharky meeting y/n at kenny's birthday party and then y/n gets really drunk so sharky offers to bring them home and in the end its just all really cute and fluffy and all the boys are teasing him afterwards.

love this, it’s so cute 🤭

That One Room | Sharky |

warnings: language

wordcount: 5.5k

"Oh god this fucking dress." You huff as you pull the bottom down, annoyed at your choice of clothing.

"What? It's so cute!" Your friend Nella looked you up and down through the bathroom mirror. You gave her a "seriously?" look and walked out of the bathroom into your hotel room.

You glanced at the time on your phone "It's almost 11:00." You say as Nella plops down on the couch next to you with a big tired groan. You sit down beside her and close your eyes, enjoying the quiet for a bit.

Today was the 20th of March. Kenny's birthday.

Yes the Kenny from YouTube's Beta Squad. You personally knew him from FootAsylum, and because of your weekly shootings, you had become good friends. Maybe not too good, but good enough for him to invite you to his massive celebration right in the middle of London.

He rented out a whole floor at one of London's fancy hotels (which you didn't even know the name of) and invited a shit ton of people.

Crazy guy is what you thought.

The floor was mostly a club or some sort of disco area and the rest of it was an indoor pool.

Weird.

And knowing that you'd probably get drunk out of your mind, and because you didn't want to drive back and forth through London, you and Nella did what basically everyone else did: get a hotel room a couple of floors below (couple of floors because no one wants to hear booming music in their drunken sleep).

And as you and Nella laid around on the couch, you couldn't stop complaining about your dress and the fact that it kept riding up and almost revealing your butt, little did you know that that was something you will have forgotten about almost instantly.

"Girl I got you. I won't be leaving your side. I'll cover your precious ass." She joked.

"Nells I'm serious!" You gave her a shove "I'm not going to survive the embarrassment if tomorrow a drunk video of me in my underwear will be surfing the net!"

"Oh god y/n, these aren't Hollywood superstars. I know like more than half of these people and they aren't as vile as you think they are!" Nella had a point. You had only just began your whole YouTube career after one of your FootAsylum videos skyrocketed and you became (not a well-known) but a known influencer.

As worried as you were, you might've been overreacting a little. You knew a good amount of people (or more like heard of them) that were coming and really nothing could go wrong.

"Hey, Kenny." You say as he waved from inside the party room that was practically empty.

"Where is everyone?" You quiz as you lean in for a greeting hug.

"You guys actually came early." A tint of enthusiasm was heard in his voice which made you feel welcomed and wanted.

"You guys can do whatever you want. Toilet's down the hallway and out the door, it's both men and women so don't get scared, bar is right there," Kenny pointed to a fancy setup which was mostly made up of glass "If you need to get away you can go down the other hallway, there's like couches or something...but honestly I doubt anyone will use that room. Pool, smoke room I think they have hookas there-"

"Shiiit," Nella grins excitedly.

"Yeah and uh if you need anything come to me." Kenny claps his hands and looks at both of you.

There's nothing you can do except nod, all of a sudden all the previous worry washed away. This place was too good and too worth it to be hiding in a little corner.

Five minutes later you and Nella ended up splitting. You went to the bar and she was too intrigued by the hookas that she couldn't wait until you got your hands on at least one drink.

You hop on the stool in-front of the counter and smile at the bartender "One Negroni please."

"Yes ma'am," he says extra formally, in a joking way, and starts throwing bottles around and doing...bartender-y things.

While he was working his magic, you were busy looking around the room. A few more faces showed up and some of them looked familiar. You recognized Chunkz, Niko and there were two more guys, names of which you struggled to recall.

One thing you knew for sure is that they were part of the Beta Squad and you thought you even saw one on the set of FootAsylum's Liar Liar. Your thoughts were quickly cleared and forgotten as the satisfying clinging of the glass caught your attention. You turned around and saw your drink, instantly grinning and picking it up "Thank you." You nodded and turned to face the spacious room, determined to find Nella as fast as possible.

You didn't really need to "search" for her. You knew exactly where she was at.

"I'm scared for your lungs." You stood over Nella, who was spread out on the couch, blowing puffs of smoke in your face.

"Ironic. Well I'm worried for your kidneys." She points at the drink in your hand and sends another cloud at you, making you break out into a series of coughs.

"Right-" you wheeze "I'll be at the bar if you need me." You cover your mouth and hurry out of the room, sighing as you felt the fresh cold and airconed air hit your skin.

During everything that was mentioned earlier, somewhere in the middle of the room all of Beta Squad, along with Harry and Filly, were exchanging thoughts on the upcoming party.

"This place looks fire." AJ said, looking around in awe.

"Yeah, crazy how many people he invited." Niko chuckled pointing at Kenny.

"What? How many?" Chunkz raised his eyebrows, sure that it couldn't be that much.

"Not that much," Kenny tried looking away.

"Oh yeah, yeah," Niko said sarcastically "I saw the list. It's mad, I'm telling you he's gone up to every single person in London and asked if they wanna come."

Everyone laughed at Niko's comment.

"Nah it'll be fun." Kenny nodded "It's a chance for everyone to meet new people." He shrugged.

"Yeah or clart them." Harry blurted out, all his jokes being more out of pocket than the previous ones.

"Woooaahhh!" Chunkz exclaimed while everyone laughed, probably more from how awkwardly Harry had said it rather than the actual "joke".

"On the topic of new people." Sharky spoke up, coming over to Kenny and placing a hand on his shoulder "Who's that with Nella."

Kenny followed Sharky's gaze, seeing you talking to Nella next to the bar.

Of course everyone else looked.

"Guys don't stare!" Sharky whispered aggressively, nudging Chunkz and Niko that were closest to him.

"Yeah see he gets what I mean." Harry said, referring to his previous joke.

"Tsk, Harry what the hell." Sharky furrowed his eyebrows while everyone tried to hide their giggles and smiles.

"That's y/n." Kenny turned back to his friend "Haven't you met before?"

Sharky shook his head "I think I would've remembered."

Kenny shrugged "I can introduce you."

A few woo’s and ooh’s emitted from the guys, which Sharky quickly had to shush down.

"No I don't want it to be awkward." He glanced at you one more time, this time seeing you by yourself while Nella went to the smoke room.

"Go talk to her," Niko poked Sharky's shoulder "While she's alone."

"Nooooo," Sharky hissed at Niko, flicking away his finger "It's gonna be awkward as fuck."

"Pussy." AJ stated.

"Aje shut the fuck up." Sharky fired back "I said I don't wanna scare her."

"Or maybe you're just scared yourself." Kenny grinned.

"You too? Seriously?"

"Ok, ok, sorry." Kenny put his arms on Sharkys shoulders and hurried to apologize.

"How about Kenny just introduces all of us to her and then like...you know," Chunkz moved his eyebrows up and down.

"Yeah that could work." Kenny nodded.

"Can't believe Sharky's scared of gyal." AJ snickered from behind Filly, who was also trying not to laugh.

It really came as a shock to everyone that one of the most good looking guys of the group was scared to approach a lady, despite Sharky saying that "he didn't want to scare you off". Yes, maybe he didn't, but he was also scared himself, just like Kenny had said.

Fast forward back to the present where you were walking out of the hookah room. You took a sip of your Negroni before opening the door and as you did, you were caught off guard by the group of people that were right in front of you. Your breathe hitched but instead of breathing air you inhaled a bit of your drink and began coughing.

"Oh shit we did scare her." AJ commented from behind everyone. Luckily it wasn't too bad to get everyone worried.

"y/n, remember how you asked me about the Beta Squad?" Kenny gleamed at you.

You cleared your throat "Yeah."

"Well I'd like to introduce you to Chunkz," you shook his hand, of course you knew Chunkz, "And this is Niko-"

"Nice to meet you." He was very tall in person.

"AJ," that's who looked familiar off of FootAsylum's set "Then you've seen these two around often on shooting, Filly and Harry."

"Hi," you tried to put on a friendly smile, but really you were terrified by the amount of people you were in front of right now.

"And Sharky."

You extended your arm out before looking up. As you did, your fake smile quickly turned into a real one as you acknowledged the man before you. You shook hands too and as you did his friends spoke up.

"He likes football." Someone stated.

"He can drive-"

"Also he started cooking-"

You furrowed your eyebrows and chuckled in confusion as the comments kept coming.

"Yeah he makes the best soups-"

"Guys what the hell." Sharky tried to get everyone to calm down, but no one was planning on stopping. They didn't do it out of jokes, they genuinely wanted to present their friend.

"He has a podcast."

Now that caught your attention.

"Really?" You quizzed, interest drawn all over your face and Sharky caught onto it straight away.

"Yeah." He nodded proudly.

"I've been wanting to start one for ageeess," you explain, now forgetting about everyone and focusing on Sharky and what he had to say "Could you maybe like," you shrug "Give me any tips? Or maybe like tell me how you started everything?"

"Yeah sure." He said as calmly as he possibly could, but inside he was bursting! Not only did he successfully approach you (well kind of) he ended up gaining your interest which hinted at a future conversation.

"Alright, then we'll leave you to it." Kenny smiled, he was probably more excited than Sharky himself in the moment.

"Oh- Like right now?" You ask "Are you sure? I don't wanna like-" you motion to the guys "Separate you from everyone. It's a party after all."

"It hasn't even started yet." AJ said bluntly, earning a smack on the head from Harry with a whisper of "Shut up."

"No I don't mind." Sharky shook his head "Besides it's one of the things I can talk about for a loooong time." He grinned.

Your face was glowing with enthusiasm and you couldn't wait to hear Sharky's story...and possibly spend time with him, but you were still working out that part. After getting yourself a Martini, you and Sharky headed to the couch areas, yes that exact room that you were sure no one was going to use. But hey, this doesn't count, like AJ said the party hasn't even begun yet.

"Soooo," you said as the two of you sat down next to each other, maybe a little awkwardly "What's the best advice you can give me?"

Sharky chuckled "Well it's all about the desire of actually doing it. Just like with anything you have to be passionate and patient to get the results you want."

You nod in agreement, surprised at how wise he sounded.

"You need to choose a topic and it would be best if it's a range of things that are connected to one other thing so you don't feel like you're going off topic when you talk."

You nod, genuinely interested and fully submerged into the ongoing conversation.

For half an hour the two of you talked just about podcasting, but the other half hour was when things started to get a little more interesting.

The conversation steered in a totally different direction after you asked Sharky "Wait why didn't you get yourself a drink?" And then you discovered that he apparently doesn't drink at all.

"WHAT!?" You exclaimed "No fucking way."

"Yes fucking way." Sharky laughed.

"You're telling me you've never had alcohol? Ever?"

He shook his head.

It was like your world had exploded.

Then after religion you started talking about life in general. Sharky told you all about The Beta Squad and how it all started, whilst you shared your story about how you became friends with Nella Rose and ended up on FootAsylum.

You were currently talking about sports and who supported which football team, when suddenly you heard a loud bang vibrate through the glass walls. You turned to the door seeing Nella with a shocked expression and two drinks in her hands. You looked back at Sharky "Shit, we should probably go back."

He scratched the back of his head, nodding.

"Well, I'll see you around." You flash a smile at him before getting up and joining Nella.

Sharky watched you leave the room, saying something to your friend, making her laugh.

He didn't take his eyes off of you, watching you take a sip and wince at what he probably guessed was a strong cocktail. He kept his gaze stuck onto you until you turned the corner and disappeared back into the main party room.

He sighed taking a second to process his thoughts and feelings. He didn't know what exactly it was that he was feeling. Ironically everyone always said that he was the "ladies man" but as soon as it actually comes to the real life interaction, he was just as confused as everyone else and that did not help his confidence whatsoever.

Meanwhile you were back in the familiar room which was now full of people, strobing with colorful lights and boosting with music. The base was so strong that you felt the sound waves through the floor.

"LETS FUCKING DANCE!" Nella screeched into your ear, snatching your empty glass and placing it onto a table, before grabbing your wrist and pulling you after her right into the crowd of dancing people.

You felt like you were at the club, or a disco.

It was full of unfamiliar people that had only one thing in common with you: they were drunk to shit. At least you felt carefree and happy, even though it was drunk-happy. You and Nella jumped, danced, sang into each others faces and even had a mini dance battle. 10 songs later you were stumbling back to the bar, thirsty and exhausted.

"Can I have a-a," you furrowed your eyebrows, drunkly running a hand through your hair "Margarita?" You raised your eyebrows, saying the first thing that came to your mind.

A minute later you were washing down the alcohol in just a few gulps.

"SHIT YOU CAN DRINK!" You heard a voice yell somewhere from beside you as the bottom of your glass clacked against the counter. You turned around and saw Sharky, face instantly lighting up.

"Hhheeeyyy!" You smiled, tilting your head. Luckily Sharky could tell you were stoned out of your mind, so he didn't deem your unusually long "hey" as embarrassing and just chuckled.

"Wha-I didn't see you on the dance floor." You said, leaning forward in a clumsy motion.

"Uh, yeah," he raised an eyebrow, amused by your tone and enhanced drunk facial expressions.

"Why not?" You tilted your head again, maybe a little too much.

"I was-"

Sharky didn't even get to finish.

You hopped off the bar stool and yanked him after you, heading to the crowd of people. Despite feeling tired after the rave with Nella, you still wanted to go with him.

"Oh." He watched you struggle to walk in a straight line, entertained but also worried.

On the way there you bumped into Nella, Filly and Chunkz, who stopped you with a big "Hey!"

There was a slight pause as everyone focused on Sharky and you holding onto his hand.

"What are you guys up to?" Nella quizzed with a grin as she glanced at Sharky who had the most forced "I'm okay" smile known to humanity.

"Apparently he hasn't been on the dance floor yet!" You say it like it's the most outrageous fact they could've heard.

"Wow," Chunkz says nodding his head dramatically.

"I know!" You were too drunk to notice how playful that "wow" actually was, and took it in as his genuine surprise.

Sharky rolled his eyes to Chunkz's statement.

"You know, it's funny cause he's actually a dancer." He pointed at Sharky with a mysterious snicker.

"What!?" You exclaimed into Sharky's ear "You didn't tell me!"

"Yeah, I just...forgot? I’m not really-"

You widened your eyes "You need to teach me some moves!"

"Yep, he loves teaching!" Chunkz gave the situation a little nudge.

"For real?" Your mouth opened in excitement as Chunkz continued "Yeah! He teaches us all the time!"

Without anymore words you continued dragging Sharky towards the dance floor and as you did, he flipped off Chunkz in the process, knowing damn well that AJ and Niko were so going to make fun of him tomorrow.

"Teach me!" You yelled over the music, excited to see what type of moves you'd learn.

"Uh, well..." Sharky's eyes darted around the room "Maybe," he did the macarena and you instantly cracked up.

He watched in awe as you laughed away, trying to hide your face with your hand but failing drunkly.

"Cmon, be for real now!" You moved your hair behind your ears, ready to actually learn something.

He shrugged, then proceeded to move his hips while his hand did smooth motions around him, one in front and one behind, before then switching and repeating the same thing.

Your mouth dropped open as you watched.

"That was actually so good!" You yelled.

"Thank you!"

"Okay, okay, my turn." You got into position and after a small pause tried to copy him. The hands were fine, you actually managed to mimic him perfectly in that area, but the hip movements were absolutely hilarious. Sharky didn't want to laugh, but you were doing it so weirdly that he really struggled to keep it together.

"Whaaat?!" You whined, stopping.

"Nothing, nothing." He bit his lip and shook his head, but that wasn't enough to contain his laughter.

"Whaaat!?" You giggled, giving him a playful shove on the shoulder to which he again shook his head.

You roll your eyes, realizing that dance was evidently not your strongest talent.

You were about to say something to Sharky, but your mind quickly switched to the song that began playing in the background.

"Oh my god!" You shrieked "I love this song!"

You instantly recognized the familiar nostalgic tune: On the Floor - Jenifer Lopez.

And so did Sharky, this song reminded everyone of the good old days. In the rush of exhilaration you grabbed Sharky's hand and swerved past everyone in the crowd of people in efforts of getting closer to the DJ booth. While Pitbull rapped his verse, Sharky was trying his absolute best to hold onto you, afraid that he'd lose you in the wave.

"Sharky!" He heard someone call out. He turned around seeing AJ waving while beside him Niko did questionable dance moves.

All Sharky could do was mouth a "sorry" before disappearing behind two dancing girls.

"Hey, was he with y/n?" AJ faced Niko, who was now trying to do the robot.

"What?" He stopped.

"Was Sharky with y/n just now?"

"I don't know." Niko shrugged.

"Can't you see them over everyone with your long ass neck?" AJ snickered.

"Aye you be quiet," Niko whacked him on the back of the head before the two continued with what they were doing...or more like dancing.

While that happened, you and Sharky found a little space next to the stand between a group of people that were all preparing for the adrenaline-filled beat drop.

"You know we're running shit tonight on the floor! Brazil," you pointed to Sharky.

"Morocco!"

"London to Ibiza!"

"Straight to LA!"

"New York!"

"Vegas to Africa!"

"Daaance the night away live your life and stay young on the floooor," you and Sharky both hummed while doing slowmo movements, that actually looked really funny from the side, but really so did everyone.

You both leaned in, continuing to sing the lyrics as your eyes locked and breathing unified "Daaance the night away grab somebody, drink a little moreeee."

On the "grab somebody" Sharky scooped both of your hands into his and raised them up.

"Are you ready?" He yelled over the booming music. You giggle and nod your head.

With the beat drop came the electrifying surge of adrenaline and thrill. The lights flashed and everything looked like a stop motion movie. Without letting go of Sharky's hands you jumped up and down, eyes closed and soul open as you sang along "Laaaa la la la-la la la la la la la la la laaaa, tonight we gon' be it on the floor!"

As the two of you jumped, spun, sang and yelled, everything else around you seemed like a blur and it wasn't just because you were drunk. It was like the two of you were in your own little bubble, your own little world.

Lots of people were looming everywhere, but all Sharky could see was your bright smile, adorable squinting eyes and funny dance moves that he found very cute.

You were going all out, already sweating, panting and trying your best to breathe through your laughter.

In the moment everything felt so surreal and you didn't want to lose that feeling.

You didn't want to lose that serotonin that engulfed you with every melody.

You didn't want to lose this special happiness.

You didn't want to lose Sharky.

The music was pumping, and the rhythm was addictive. The two of you let yourselves go, lost in the magic of the moment. Your bodies moved in sync, eyes locked onto each others. You danced like you had all the time in the world, like nothing else mattered in the moment. Time stood still, and for a few fleeting seconds, you forgot about all your troubles and worries, lost in the moment, with each other, dancing like no one was watching.

As the song came to an end you felt like you were going to throw up, exhausted, from previous dancing with Nella, and drunk, but glowing out of pure joy.

"Are you okay?" Sharky gleamed at you.

You nodded "I think I need to like-"

"What!?" Sharky couldn't hear you from how loud it was. He placed his hands on your shoulders and leaned down, pulling you in closer so he could hear you speak.

"I need a breather!" You shout.

Sharky was quick to get you out of the packed crowd and back to the bar, where you ran into Harry Pinero and an unfamiliar girl.

"Hey, Sharky," Harry said in a playful voice, noticing you next to him.

"Hi." He replied unenthusiastically.

"Can I have a water please?" You leaned over the bar table, ignoring the conversation that was going on behind you.

"I see your nights going...well." Harry smirks, taking a sip of his drink.

"Yeah, it is actually." Sharky admits, glancing at you who was now finishing the glass of water like you haven't had any in days.

"Good for you." Harry nods, raising his glass and finishing it in one gulp before then turning around to his companion and heading to the hookah room. Sharky watched them, dreading tomorrows morning encounter with all his existence.

"You alright?" You snap him out of his thoughts.

He looks down at you and nods with a smile "Are you?"

"Yeah I feel a bit...sick."

"Oh shit, wanna go to that room we were in? I doubt anyone will be there."

"Yeah," you breathe.

Sharky puts his arm around your back, making sure you didn't trip over, as the pair of you made your way to the next door room.

You let out a sigh of relief as you felt the soft couch dent under you, resting your head on the back of it. Sharky glances at you, a little concerned by how unusually tired you look.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

You nod with your eyes closed "I just feel a little nauseous."

"That can't be good." Sharky thought to himself, realizing that it was best if you were to lay down or maybe even go to bed.

He's seen how much you had to drink and the more worrying thing was how much he hasn’t seen you drink.

"Hey, listen maybe it's best if you were to lay down, I can drive you home or you can have a rest in my room." He paused and hurried to add "Not in like that way you know just if you're feeling unwell- uh- like maybe if you feel sick- like the bathroom, you know-"

Even drunk you could tell how uneasy and flustered Sharky felt.

"I have a room here with Nella." You chuckle as you sit up and catch his gaze with your half open eyes.

"I can walk you there." He almost whispered as you moved your face closer to his, the distance between your lips gradually decreasing.

Sharky's eyes widen as realization slowly creeps in on what's about to happen. His breathe hitched as he felt your warm lips ghost over his, but before you could lean in and kiss him, he jolted back.

You felt your stomach knot and mouth go dry.

Why did he pull away? Did he not want to kiss you? Did you do something wrong? Did you go too far?

You felt your throat tighten and eyes begin to prickle with tears as you moved away from Sharky, trying your best to hold yourself together.

"I- Uh- Sorry I didn't meant to-" your voice was thick and raspy as your words came out choked and messy.

"What? No no no no no," Sharky placed his hand on your arm "No, y/n, that's not- Oh my god no!" He saw your eyes glisten and a thin line of tears form over them.

You sniff shaking your head "Sorry, I just thought-"

"No please don't cry," Sharky moves over, wrapping his arms around you. Despite the fact that he had just somewhat rejected you, you can't help but hug him in return, hiding your face in his chest whilst trying your best not to cry too loudly.

"y/n please don't be upset," Sharky says in a hushed tone as he rubs your back.

You sniff before looking up at him "Why don't you wanna kiss me?" By now your mascara had a mind of its own, running from the corners and smudging under your eyes.

"I do. Trust me I really do," he smiled softly "But you're drunk and you aren't feeling well. I just- " he sighs "It just wouldn't feel right considering the vulnerable state you're in."

"Oh." You snivel. Sharky let's out a small laugh and wipes your cheeks with the sleeve of his sweater.

"I feel so dumb." You groan, hanging your head down to hide away from him in embarrassment.

"Hey it's ok," you can hear the warm smile in Sharky's voice "Honestly it took all of my self control to do that."

You let out a small chuckle before looking back up at him.

That night Sharky walked you to your room and made sure you were alright with going to bed yourself.

You fell asleep with a grin on your face and with the feeling of excitement to wake up in the morning.

"Yep girl, that's it. Let it all out." Nella patted you on the back as you crouched over the toilet seat, throwing up everything your stomach had.

"Oh my god." You panted, looking up to take a whiff of air "Im never drinking again." You whined.

"Uhuh, like the last time you were never gonna drink again?"

"You know what I-" aaand you were back at it.

In the meantime everyone else you knew was having breakfast on the top floor of the hotel, enjoying the buffet and the open fresh air.

"So Sharky," AJ snickered "How'd yesterday go? You disappeared for quite some time."

"Really?" Kenny's eyebrows jumped up in surprise.

"Yeah, with we-all-know-who."

Sharky shook his head without any amusement, continuing to eat his breakfast.

"Oh cmon you have to tell us about it!" Chunkz threw his arms up.

"Nothing. Happened." Sharky stated.

"Ain't no way nothing happened." Harry joined in "I've seen you go into that couch-room."

"Oh, good to know someone actually used it." Kenny chuckled.

"Used?" Sharky raised a brow "I'm telling you, nothing happened. She felt sick so I," he shrugged "You know walked her to her room and then she went to bed." Sharky couldn't keep in his smile, remembering last night like it was something from a fairy tail, even that almost-kiss had his heart fluttering.

Chunkz caught onto that and gave a cheeky giggle "Aayyeee look at him smiling and everything." He pointed at his friend "Sharky likeesss her."

"Yeah so much that he apparently abandoned his friends on the dance floor." Niko furrowed his eyebrows and raised his hands up.

"Wha- I didn't abandon you. No need to be so dramatic."

Niko scoffed jokingly "Bros before girls!"

Everyone broke into a series of giggles and laughs.

"y/n is nice tho," Kenny said while chewing, evidently being the most innocent one out of everyone.

"She really is." Sharky agreed while everyone else continued to laugh, this time at Kenny's random statement.

"What?" He quizzed in confusion.

"So what you gonna go on a little date?" Niko asked.

As much as everyone was teasing Sharky about it, they were also invested in what was to come.

Was he going to ask you out?

Would you agree?

"Yeah I guess. I mean I do like her."

"Sick." Kenny commented "Look at me bringing people together."

"Yes, let's toast to that...With water because almost everyone is insanely hung over!" Harry raised his glass.

Unfortunately you didn't end up going to breakfast at all because you spent the entire morning throwing up.

As you rolled around in bed, holding onto your stomach, you and Nella heard a knock on the door.

"Ill check, you stay down." She says, getting up and heading to the hallway. Five seconds later you heard her call out your name, and without any thought you got up and lazily dragged your feet to the door.

"Who is-Oh my god hi." You almost fainted seeing Sharky there, considering your messed up state. He, on the other hand, looked amazing.

"Wha-You look insanely fresh for a person who's been partying all night." You speak your mind as you look him up and down.

"Thank you, perks of not drinking." He grins.

"Oh right, you don't drink." You nod, remembering yesterdays conversation "Well I did and now I look like shit." You scratch the back of your head.

"Nah, nah. You look..."

You raised your eyebrows, waiting for him to continue.

"Maybe just a little tired."

You chuckled rolling your eyes.

"Anyway I uh, didn't see you at breakfast."

"Yeah, sorry couldn't make it, I was throwing up all morning."

"Ooohhh...right okay makes sense." He nods. You can't help but grin at how awkward and shy he was acting, standing there in front of you, swaying from side to side whilst fiddling with the sleeves of his sweater.

"I uh wanted to ask, if you would want to go to the-I mean on a date? Maybe?"

"Are you kidding? Obviously."

"Obviously?" Sharky let's out a confused chuckle.

"Oh please, just because I'm sober now doesn't mean that I don't like you. I remember yesterday quite well."

"Ah," he nods "Okay that's good."

You grin "It is good. And I can't wait for the date."

"Text you?"

"Do you have my number?" You raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah," his tone was unsure.

"Wait how'd you-"

"Kenny."

You nodded "Alright. I'll be uh, waiting."

"Yep." Sharky looks around "Bye?"

You step forward, embracing him in a tight hug "See you."

[formulaforza]

miss americana & the heartbreak prince

—03. i think i fell in love today —word count: 7.5k —warnings: despicable tooth rotting clawing my eyes out eating the stuffing in my pillows fluff. truly its horrendous. lets talk about it. —love, mackie... i'm sleeping hopefully. right now I am hammocking. the ice cream truck just drove past. I love June.

After Paris, Chris was a bit apprehensive when it came to her ability to navigate the airport in Abu Dhabi with any sort of efficiency. Especially not now, where she needs to go through customs and register for a visitor’s visa and find her luggage and get her money exchanged. Pleasantly, though, she’s surprised at the ease she works through her notes app checklist. It’s within the hour that she’s climbing into the backseat of a taxi and heading to the hotel. 

She spends the entirety of the twenty-something minute drive doing a deep dive on Joris’ Instagram. He’s going to be waiting for you, Charles had told her the night they’d worked it all out. How he knew his friend would be free is beyond Chris, but that's not even the bigger issue at hand. The issue is, of course, that she’s had no more than a momentary interaction with Joris in the background of a FaceTime call two weeks ago. The thought of breezing past him in the hotel lobby is a mortifying one. 

It’s quarter after seven by the time she gets there, and when she catches a glance of herself in a mirror on the wall and almost bursts into laughter. Someone could tell her that she fell down the stairs in Austin and hit her head and is in a coma and it would feel more believable than her life right now. This just… this doesn’t happen to her; five star hotels in foreign countries and heavy accents and guys who call her beautiful from the other side of the globe. 

She spots Joris in an armchair on his phone at the other end of the lobby. She approaches nervously, and he stirs from his phone at her sudden proximity. “Hi,” Chris greets, sounds almost apologetic for interrupting him. “Joris, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” he nods, dragging out the vowel sounds when he glances back down at his screen. Chris wonders if he knows he’s waiting for her. 

She smiles. “I’m Chris.”

“Right!” He snaps his fingers, shoves his phone into his pocket. “Chris.” He stands and opens his arms to hug her like they’re old friends. It’s a move straight from her book, one that she’s pulled on dozens of people before. It’s not one that she’s met with often. Chris thinks they’ll get on well, her and Joris. That’s a good thing, right? Friendly friends. 

Chris’ mom had told her more than once that the quickest way to know someone’s character is through their friends. Only a maniac is rude to animals and elderly and children, she’d said a million times over, it’s the character of the people they choose to spend time with that matters. Joris has no idea Chris is silently observing his every action, picking them apart on a human level.

On the elevator ride up, Joris fills Chris in on everything that’s happened during the free practices that day, tells her that it’s been a relatively clean couple of sessions. You do know of the risk this weekend, yes? P2 or P3, he asks and answers his own question. Chris nods. If she didn’t know, she does now. The room is on the fifth floor, she notes, staring at the glowing five button as she picks at her cuticles. It hits her like a ton of bricks, her anxiety skyrocketing as the elevator ascends, her stomach left behind on the ground level. 

This whole thing is crazy, and not the quirky, silly story you tell your friends about over a vodka cran crazy. Just plain crazy. Insane. Off the wall absurd. Why, why are they sharing a room? Why is she even here? What is it about her that can’t be found somewhere, anywhere, else? And the most prudent question, the one ringing in her ears louder with each passing moment; what is it about him? 

Chris has never considered herself to be logical, not in the slightest, but she does like to maintain the idea that she’s well grounded. She might not always act in a way that makes the most sense, but she always makes those choices within the bounds of her reality. 

And, because her nerves permeate off her like a thirteen-year-old’s B.O, Joris takes a stab at cooling her down. “How was your planes?”

“Good. Smooth.” she nods, forces a smile. Her weight shifts from heel to heel, thumbs looped through her backpack straps. The floor is a shiny black marble with white and gold veins, one that commands your attention. Chris pulls her eyes from it to look at him anyway. Nervous and insane or not, she wants to make a good impression. “I could do without navigating the airport in Paris ever again, though.”

“Oh,” he laughs. “It never gets easier.”

“Does any of it?” She offers up a laugh, but it’s as genuine as the smile her face held before. 

He opens his mouth to speak but is cut off with the ding of the doors opening. There, in the hallway with more marble floors and a wallpaper that walks the line between elegant and gaudy, a couple stands on a white carpet runner. The man has on a Mercedes cap. Chris wonders if they know a Formula One driver is staying on their floor. 

The four of them sidestep awkwardly around each other with polite smiles to the floor, and before she knows it Joris is holding a keycard over the lock on a heavy door and handing the piece of plastic to her. 

It’s not a room. It’s a suite. There’s a living room and a kitchenette and a whole separate bedroom to this place. It’s expensive, wildly so, she’s sure. 

She wheels her suitcase into the bedroom, leaves it in the corner by an armchair with her backpack. At the bottom of the bag is her purse, which she digs out while Joris is using the bathroom, moving things around from one bag to the other. 

The drive to the circuit is twenty minutes, at least, and Joris talks the whole time, mostly about how nervous he is and how hard he’s trying to make sure Charles doesn’t notice. Chris doesn’t tell him that Charles is also beyond nervous about the whole thing–or that he knows good and well everyone around him is losing their minds. It doesn’t seem like the type of thing that would make Joris feel any better. 

“Pascale and Enzo, you know them, yes? Charles’ Mum and brother?” Joris questions.

“Nope,” Chris shakes her head. “Not yet.”

Oh, he doesn’t say. “You’ll like them if you like Charles,” he laughs. “You do like Charles?”

Chris bites down on a smile, a laugh leaving her nose in an exhale. “I do.”

“Good, good.” He nods. “Anyway, they are not here tonight, they already have gone back to the hotel. Arthur is there, still. Do you know him?”

“I think it’s going to be easier for both of us if you just assume I don’t know anyone.”

“Ah, okay. Will do.”

Chris wonders what Charles has said about her to Joris, to Arthur, to anyone. All of the stories he has or hasn’t told them about. She has almost exclusively not talked about him back home. Not because she doesn’t want to, she just can’t figure out how to say anything without sounding like a reality television star. Maybe he’s the same way. There’s a real chance that nobody in his family even knows that she’s coming, and maybe that’s the way she’d like it to be. 

Her reunion with Charles couldn’t be more different than their first meeting. The paddock is empty with exception of team crews and straggling media members. There isn’t a Bud Light in sight and the pass hanging around her neck has a picture of her on the back. He must’ve pulled it from her Instagram, the one that he keeps talking about wanting to follow back. A picture of her and CHRISTYN ELLIOTT - FULL WEEKEND written in bold letters. 

“He’s probably at the briefing,” Joris explains, checking his watch and walking one stride for every two of Chris’. She tries her hardest to keep up with him as he expertly navigates the paddock, all while trying to memorize his moves so she doesn’t end up stranded sometime this weekend. 

A whistle gets their attention, cutting sharply through the hot desert air. Her and Joris both snap their heads around to find the perpetrator of the summons. Charles pats Pierre’s shoulder and jogs ahead of the group of drivers, all already engaged in their own conversations and heading off into different directions. 

He has such a carefree smile on his face, jogging over with happy eyes and wiggling brows and a stupid little wink that puts a smile on her face. “Hello, Christyn,” he quips, greets her with open arms. And then, once his arms are pulling her to him so tight she can’t take a full breath, when he has so much energy to give her he can’t help but rock on the sides of his feet, he whispers just for her, “Hi,” a soft kiss on the crown of her head, “I’m so glad you’re here.”

All she can think about is how warm he is. Warm, and smells so nice. She doesn’t know how she’s going to ever go home. Not when he’s so warm. 

“How was the planes?” He asks, an arm comfortable slotting around her as they resume their walk to wherever it is she’s being led. 

“Uh, I’m tired, but.” She smiles. At him. Right there where she can touch him. Where he is touching her. “I’m here, so. I’m happy.”

On the walk back to hospitality, she asks him how his day’s gone. He’s sure she already knows, that Joris talked her ear off the entire drive over or that she’d checked the media reports of the practice sessions, but it’s nice to pretend she doesn’t know. He tries to summarize everything as concise as he can, because even though he loves talking to her, he’d much rather listen. He can listen to her talk until the sun burns out.

He’s not surprised to notice that Joris has peeled off from them, especially not because he didn’t even realize he wasn’t trailing behind him and Chris until he held open the door to his driver’s room and Joris was nowhere to be found.

He can’t count the amount of texts he’s had to have sent Chris from his driver’s room. How badly he wanted to just be talking with her, and now she’s here. She’s here, she’s here, she’s here with him. 

He moves around the room, cleaning and reorganizing his things for a fresh start in the morning. Casually, he mentions that he has a sponsorship obligation tonight, last race and all, and that Arthur and Joris are coming along. He doesn’t speak it so offhandedly because he’d forgotten, but because he didn’t want her to get freaked out by the idea of it. He explains that she’s welcome to tag along, or, if she’d feel more comfortable, she can stay here while Andrea packs up his things. 

She’s leaning against the wall just next to the doorway, watching him. Without hesitation, she replies, “I’ll come with you.”

“Are you sure?” He asks, looking to her. “You don’t have to.”

She nods, looks at the ground or the couch or something that isn’t him, folds her hand to look at her nails and lets out an almost silent laugh. His stomach drops. “You sound like you don’t want me to go.”

“No, no.” He corrects, and she still doesn’t look at him. He waves for her attention, cocks his head to the side when he gets it, “No. That’s not. I just want you to do what you want to do.”

“I want to go.”

“Okay,” he smiles.

She crosses her arms over her chest, looks like she’s trying so hard not to smile at him. “You’re being weird, you know?”

He shrugs, because she’s right. “I told you I would be.”

“Well,” Chris sighs, moves across the room to the small couch in the corner, “why are you being weird?”

“Because.” I want to kiss you, he stops himself from saying. I’ve wanted to kiss you since I saw you twenty minutes ago, since you decided to come, since I met you, maybe. 

“Because, why?” She laughs, and he’s suddenly struck with the thought of what her laughter might taste like. Sweet, surely, just like it sounds. Like a popsicle on a summer day. 

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he tries his absolute hardest to wipe that thought from his brain before texting his brother back. “Je veux t'embrasser tout le temps,” I want to kiss you all the time, he mumbles, isn’t even sure it actually leaves his lips or if he keeps it locked in the vault. He continues to send his reply to Arthur. 

“You know I don’t understand what you just said,” Chris reminds him. That’s why it came out in French, he thinks. Not everything is meant to be said. 

“I said,” he pauses, sends the text, looks back at her. God. “I said I want to kiss you.”

She crosses one leg over the other, looks down at her pants like there is something in her lap to fix. He can see the blush on the tips of her ears, even though she’s trying to hide her cheeks. When she does look up, face still flushed, she tucks her bangs behind her ears and replies softly, “you’re allowed to kiss me, Charles.”

He can’t believe he hasn’t yet. That he’d hugged the life out of her, kissed her hair and told her how happy he is she’s there, that he’d thought about kissing her for weeks, that he didn’t fucking kiss the girl yet. They’re sharing a bedroom tonight, and he still hasn’t kissed her. He thought about it, he did. But they’d promised to keep things as quiet as they could. Now, he’s pretty sure she wouldn’t have stopped him from throwing all those conversations out the window. 

If there wasn’t something weird in the air before, there certainly is now. A new weird. A good weird. An implication of something in the air, weird. It’s out there now, ust hanging above them. I want to kiss you. You can kiss me. Now all that’s left is for one of them to make the move. 

It’s the least he can do–make the first move. She flew across the globe, he can fucking kiss her. He wants to fucking kiss her. He feels like a little kid, the giddy smile that pulls on the corners of his lips when he walks over to her. He does little to conceal his intent.

“What?” She asks with a smile on her face. A tease, she has to know. 

He holds out his hands, palms forward to her and she follows his lead, reaches up to lace their fingers together. “I like you, you know?” He asks, leans his weight against her hands. Some hands are just meant to be held. 

She giggles like a child, pure and innocent and like nothing bad has ever happened to her. Like the childhood dog and all four grandparents are still kicking. “I can’t hold you up.”

“What?” He quirks a brow, leans more weight onto her hands and she laughs harder, her arms shaking below him. 

“Charles!”

“I said I like you, Chris!”

Through weak arms and uncontrollable belly laughs, she manages to choke out in gulps for air, “I like you, too.” In a swift movement, he recenters his weight on his own feet, pulling Chris up from the couch. The force of his pull almost knocks her from her feet, both of them still laughing, fingers dancing with the others on either side of their frames. The laughter is light and airy and barely there, but it’s laughter nonetheless. When their hands do fall apart, their pinkies stay looped together without force, without any pull at all, just comfortably slotted against the other. “I really like you,” she adds, and her voice sounds like smiles look. 

She blushes under her own words, over the entirety of their private moment, eyes darting from eyes to lips and back to eyes. “Yeah?” He asks quietly, like he’s scared asking might change her answer. She nods, biting down on the smile that paints her bottom lip, and it’s more than enough for him. She’s so good. She’s too good not to kiss. 

He moves a hand to her jaw, thumbs her cheek with fingers slotted behind her ear, dancing along her hairline like a whisper of what’s to come. Like a promise. In the absence of his hand, hers finds his chest, just his thin Ferrari shirt separating her palm from the butterflies stirring wildly in his chest. “Me, too,” he says softly. Softer than she did, more to her lips—soft and pretty and his favorite shade of pink—than to her eyes. And then, either so softly only the atoms hear it, or maybe in his head entirely, “very much.”

And then he kisses her. 

She tastes like mint chapstick and biscoff cookies and coffee. Her lips are soft, softer than they looked, softer than her voice. It’s like a boost of energy, kissing her. Like an immediate and complete charge. 

She tightens her grip on his other pinky. Tightens it, loosens it, re-intertwines the whole hand somewhere off in the distance, far, far away from where he wishes to stay forever. This alone is worth a flight anywhere. Altitude sickness and limbs falling asleep and jet lag and headaches from screaming babies are all poor inhibitors when this would be waiting for him on the other side. 

He pulls his hand from hers because it's just not close enough. Nothing is going to be close enough, but he’ll try his damndest to cup her jaw and pull her deeper into the kiss. Their noses bump awkwardly and they pull apart in a breathless laugh. Nothing more than a quick, shared smile and he’s kissing it off her face, tugging on her bottom lip with his teeth and letting her hum mumbles into his mouth. Teeth clacking and more laughing, so breathless it’s practically silent. 

“Chris Elliott,” he says all sing-songy, just because he knows it’ll make her laugh. A quick peck, because he can. “You are something.”

“Charles Leclerc,” she mimics, wide eyes and raised brows and a beaming smile. A quick peck, because he’s never going to stop her. “Something good?”

He hums. “Something great.”

“You’re silly,” she says, and he laughs. 

“Silly?” She nods. “You’re cute.” Chris rolls her eyes, but still has that child’s smile on her face and a pink flush to her cheeks. He kisses her again, quick, because he has a month to make up for. 

“I know,” she retorts, deadpan. He laughs louder than any sane man should. 

Joris, Arthur, and Andrea file into the room a few minutes later. Chris is leaning against the wall again, scrolling through her phone. She clicks it off when they walk in, shoves it deep into her purse pocket. 

Andrea’s eyes bounce from Chris to Charles, and then back to Chris, holding out a hand for her to shake. “Andrea,” he greets, formal and cool. 

“Chris,” she smiles, shakes the outstretched hand. 

“Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah,” she nods. “You too.”

First bad impression. She doesn’t know what it is she did, but with the simple half-minute observation of his interactions with her versus the rest of the people in the room, it’s obvious he’s already soured on her. 

Arthur, though, Arthur is almost off putting in his resemblance to Charles. Same voice, same face, certainly same bloodline. She thinks she could recognize him anywhere, probably. He, however, on his phone, doesn’t even notice Chris’ presence in the room until Joris elbows him on the sofa. 

“Quoi?!” He exclaims in a defensive tone that transcends language barriers. The kind that only brothers know how to use. 

“Hi,” Chris says, and Arthur’s head shoots from Joris to her in the doorway. He almost laughs, he’s so surprised by her presence. “I’m Chris,” she adds, holding out a hand only because he's sitting and she’s standing and a hug doesn’t feel logistically sound. 

“Ah, Chris,” Arthur nods, shakes her hand. “Charles does not answer my phone calls because of you.”

“Oh,” she offers a weak smile. “I’m sorry about that.”

“No, no. I do not want to hear from him.”

Chris laughs. From the other side of the room, Charles chimes in, “then why are you calling me?”

Arthur rolls his eyes. “Maman say, ‘do you call Charles’ and I say ‘yes he does not answer me.’”

- - -

They run into Carlos and co. on the way to the sponsorship event. Chris tries to hang back towards the end of the group, back with Joris and Arthur and away from Charles, purely out of self preservation. They’d agreed in passing that everything would be much easier, hundreds of times simpler, if nobody knew Chris was there this weekend, if everything was kept under the radar. Charles, however, seems to have forgotten that agreement because, no matter how engaged he gets into a conversation, he is constantly looking for her in the group, reaching his hand out to her if she’s within distance to do so, keeping her as close to him as he can. 

She keeps falling back though, falling into ranks. She doesn’t want to look like a girlfriend, because she isn’t. 

Chris has no idea how to be a public… girl? A fling or a girlfriend or anything in between. She’s at home at a race track, yes, and during Chase’s championship winning season, she got stopped three times to take pictures with fans, but, really. Nobody has ever cared about what she’s doing or who she’s doing it with. 

Walking in behind Carlos and Charles is like walking in behind celebrities. Everyone wants to shake their hands, to pat them on the shoulders and tell them this thing or another. There’s lots of languages being thrown around that she doesn’t recognize, accents she struggles to understand. 

“This is crazy,” she says quietly, just to herself. 

Arthur nudges her with his elbow to steal her attention, furrows his brows for a moment and holds up a quizzical thumbs up. Chris nods, smiles gratefully. 

Charles promised that it was going to be nothing more than a quick stop at the event, and he meant it. They aren’t even there long enough to sit down. Instead they hang out in the back of the tent near the bar, watching Charles and Carlos talk on stage with several different people about how important this brand is for us.  

They decide to go out to dinner after, despite Chris’ burning desire to go to sleep for a couple years. They get sat at a booth that’s probably made to hold no more than four people; Andrea and Joris on one side, Charles sandwiched between Chris and Arthur on either side. He finds her hand under the table, his thumb tracing along the lines of her fingers. Chris, against all urges to rest her head on his shoulder, rests it instead on the wooden divider between their booth and the neighboring one. 

Arthur is the only one who struggles to speak English rather than his mother tongue, and while Charles corrects him each time, Chris doesn’t dare. She’d rather die than imply someone speaking in a second language needs to improve the way they speak it. 

“Are you going to be with us all weekend?” Arthur asks around Charles’ frame. 

“I’m actually going to be in the grandstands,” she smiles. Charles rolls his eyes. 

“Oh?” Arthur asks, looks to his brother, but Joris beats him to the punch. 

“You couldn’t get her a pass for the whole weekend?” Joris chirps. Andrea laughs and Charles reaches for the pass hung around her neck. She didn’t even realize she was the only person still wearing it until now. Charles flips the pass over, points out the FULL WEEKEND on the back. 

“Her choice, not mine.”

She reaches to take the pass out of his hand, to pull it off over her head and put it into her purse. “I’m hoping for a drama-free weekend,” she says, and the boys laugh. Charles’ hand finds her thigh, gives it a little pat and a comfortable squeeze. 

Her hands are meant to be held, they really are. He could hold her hand until the moment she leaves, fingers locked together as they walk through the hotel corridor, empty and echoey with their voices and the sound of their feet on the carpet runner. 

Once in the room, face to face together with the single bed, they both burst into laughter. He’s glad he cleaned things up before she got here, because the room was starting to look a little like his driver’s room–clothes strewn about messily, plastic water bottles on the end table, a television remote he lost the night he got here and hadn’t found until this morning. In the corner, Chris’ luggage sits beside the armchair, backpack neatly stacked with a single suitcase. 

“Did you bring your whole wardrobe?” He jokes, and maybe it’s because he’s never been great at conveying jokes in English, or maybe it’s that they’re both absolutely exhausted, but the joke doesn't land. She’s immediately apologizing, spewing out a jumbled apology about I didn’t know what I was supposed to wear, and then– “I’m messing with you,” he says, and hates that she thinks he’d be that worked up over a suitcase, especially when he’d brought at least double what she had. She could have shown up with twenty suitcases and he still wouldn’t have thought it was too much because, well, she’s here. Right in front of him. 

“Oh,” she pouts, and he kisses the look off her face. He’s wanted to do that since he saw it for the first time. “Oh. I like when you do that.” Good, he thinks. Get used to it. 

They both make plans to shower; her before him. He’s on the couch in the living area of the suite when she re-emerges from the bathroom, the TV rolling and absentmindedly scrolling through his phone. When the sliding door to the bathroom opens, he looks up to watch her. 

Her hair long down her back, carefully combed out so that the soaking ends turn the fabric of her sun-worn blue t-shirt a darker shade. It’s big on her–the shirt–hangs almost long enough that you wouldn’t be able to spot the flannel shorts underneath. He can still hear the sink running in the bathroom and she’s got a toothbrush in her mouth. 

He whistles when she walks back from the bedroom towards the bathroom again, and she stops in the doorway, laughs around the toothbrush and does a sweet spin. “Bellissimo,” he says, gestures a chef’s kiss and she bows dramatically. 

After his shower, he finds her in the bedroom, comfortably perched against the headboard, tucked under the crisp white duvet. The only light in the place is coming from her end table lamp, casting a soft shadow on her face, her knees pulled up close while she turns the pages of a book. He hovers around his suitcase watching her, completely in her own world, the only hint of her presence on this plane being the subtle lean into the light to better illuminate the pages she turns. 

It’s not the first time he’s found himself looking at her like this. She’s easy to get lost in and almost never notices him staring. She just gets so focused on the task at hand–grading papers, cooking a meal, painting her nails, watching a television show, or like tonight, reading her current library rental. 

“Do you want a water?” He asks. Her eyes don’t leave the page, a subtle shake of the head before she finally mumbles a no, thank you. He navigates the dark suite to the kitchenette, finds himself a plastic water bottle in the mini-fridge, and then he’s pulling back the comforter to climb into bed with her. “So, I was thinking tomorrow–” he starts, but she cuts him off with a singular finger held in the air. He can’t help but laugh, stupid smile on his face while he watches her eyes hurriedly finish the page, dog ear the tiniest fold onto the corner. 

“Sorry,” she unapologetically offers, setting the book down on the end table. “What were you saying?”

“Uh, I don’t remember,” he says, because he lost it while he tried to guess what she was reading based on the little microexpressions that crossed her face. His eyes fall to the gold chain around her neck, to the small cross that lays over the blue fabric of her shirt. He’s noticed it dozens of times, it’s constant presence in every picture, every video, every call and outfit and event. He doesn’t even think when he reaches for it, examines it with gentle fingers. “Is this a, uh…” he struggles to find the word, “how do you say, family tradition?”

“Heirloom?”

He nods, drops the piece of jewelry back to its rightful spot. “Heirloom.”

“No, it was a birthday gift,” she explains, fingers the chain of it, “from my brother when I turned eighteen.”

He nods, points out the other necklace she’s wearing, a flower with a pearl in the center. “And this?”

She laughs, “it’s silly,” she says. “It goes with these earrings I have, they’re from my parents when I graduated college.” He learns the flower is a chrysanthemum, that her dad has always called her Mum, that her mom has a particular affinity for pearls that she’s passed onto Chris, that all of these things have combined into this piece of jewelry hanging around her neck and that she cried and cried when they gifted it to her. 

Because the sun is still burning, he doesn’t stop asking about the different pieces she wears until he’s run out of ones to point to. He learns the story of a ruby ring–her birthstone–that she found in a thrift store for seventy-five cents when she was fifteen, how it used to fit on her pointer finger but now it fits her ring finger, how sometimes she makes up elaborate stories of how it ended up in the bargain bin of a Goodwill in North Georgia. 

She tells him about three friendship bracelets. The first and second are made by students, her favorite gifts. The third, blue and yellow–NAPA colors, her brother’s racing colors–made by her nephew. “He’s four, and he is everything annoying about my brother and everything good about my best friend, and I think I would kill someone for him.” Charles is sure that tomorrow he’ll be telling someone they wouldn’t believe the way she lights up when she talks about this kid. 

When he’s run out of things to question, she’s examining the red string tied around his wrist. “What about you?” She asks, “what’s up with this guy?”

“My mate, Pierre. He learns about it from our other friend Yuki,” He explains. “They always know the strangest things, Pierre and Yuki,” he chuckles, continues to explain the traditional symbol of good luck. “I don’t know how well it works, though,” he laughs, and she kisses him. It surprises him, but he’s in no place to complain. Perhaps the bracelet works quite well, he thinks when she moves closer, snuggles under his arm while he continues. 

Three metal bracelets. One red, one silver, one stainless steel. Morse code: Amour, Bonheur, Smile. A ring that matches the bracelet. Two hex rings that track his heart rate and his sleep and a million other things.

He spins the rings while he talks, pulls them off and hands one to her without missing a beat in his sentence. She toys with it while she listens, hands it back to him with a quiet yawn. When he kisses her hair, it’s still damp and smells like the shampoo she used, something he can’t place, something he hopes eventually to memorize. “You’re cute when you’re sleepy.”

“You told me that last week.”

“I know,” another kiss against the unfamiliar scent. “I meant it.”

Charles wants to order room service for breakfast. Chris shuts that idea down the minute it comes out of his mouth, furrowing her brows and making him attempt to rationalize waiting half an hour for food that’s five minutes away. He can’t, so they head to the lobby. 

Chris is wearing the same shirt, pulls a pair of sweatpants over her flannel shorts and ties her hair into a messy, tangled ponytail. She’d keep it down, but her hair dried while she slept and it’s pointing in directions that defy gravity. A ponytail was the only option. Charles doesn’t change, keeps the t-shirt and shorts he slept in on. 

They find Andrea in the lobby, eating at a table for two by himself. Charles pulls a chair over from a nearby table and they sit down with him. By the time Joris appears, the table is officially too full of food to comfortably function. 

She hears his phone vibrate against the hard plastic of his chair, and he casually mentions that the rest of his family is on their way down. 

Chris doesn’t react, not externally, anyways. She finishes what’s left in her mug, bee-lines it over to the coffee bar to make another. Absent-mindedly, she tears the foil from the creamer cups, rips open the sugar packets and stirs it all together. His mom. His mom. His mom. It’s all she can think about. His mother. The woman who gave him life. Chris knew she’d be meeting his mom this weekend, but she figured she’d have more preparation than a couple minutes warning, assumed she’d be dressed, hair styled, makeup done. That she’d be presenting herself as someone you’d be happy to have your son spend time with, not like a  7/11 customer in Dahlonega at one in the morning. Maybe Charles was right and room service was a good idea. 

Even once she’s back at the table, every elevator ding makes her jump, shoots her head in the direction of the opening doors just terrified the people walking out are going to be his family. 

“Are you good?” Charles asks after she flinches at the third elevator bell. 

“Yup,” she lies, slaps a big, phony smile on her face and takes a sip of her coffee. His hand finds her leg, gives it a little you’ll be fine squeeze. 

The next elevator is carrying his family. She instinctively straightens in her seat, moves things around the crowded table so her food looks neat and managed. Joris looks at her with concern, Charles laughs when she refolds a napkin. “Don’t laugh at me,” she whispers. 

Out of earshot, Arthur says something through a stretch and a yawn. His mom rolls her eyes, pushes him in the direction of the coffee bar, mutters something to his other brother that makes him chuckle. When his mom spots Chris, she makes a bee-line for her with open arms. Chris practically trips over the leg of her chair trying to stand up before the hug reaches her. 

“Come here, chérie,” she smiles. It’s warm, just like her boy’s. “I have heard so much about you.” Oh? Chris smiles, suddenly aware that she’s apparently horribly unprepared for this entire introduction. He’s telling his mother about her? 

She hugs Pascale back and looks over her shoulder to Charles with wide eyes. She’s met with a matching expression, Charles shrugging and shaking his head as if to adamantly tell her he has no idea what his mom is talking about. “And what have you heard, Maman?” He asks with a laugh. 

“Don’t start with me,” she says, wagging a finger at her boy, and then to Chris, “Ignore him.” She holds her at arm's length, hands on either shoulder and looks her up and down. Chris laughs, nervous but still noticeably genuine. “You are just beautiful, aren’t you?”

Well. Beautiful isn’t a word Chris would use to describe herself at this moment. Ratty, perhaps. Disheveled. Off-putting. But sure, beautiful is a word she might sometimes describe herself as. “Me?” She shakes her head, “ma’am, look at yourself.”

“Oh, please,” his mom scoffs. “Pascale.”

“Pascale.” Chris smiles, goes in for another hug.

Whether it’s because he’s a brother and not a mother, or because meeting said mother is done and over with, Chris is significantly less anxious when it comes to her introduction with Lorenzo. 

Chris attempts to insist Pascale take her seat, but is out-insisted to finish her breakfast. Charles finds her hand under the table, winks at her when she interlocks her fingers with his. 

– – – 

Outside of their shared breakfast, Saturday is a long day apart for Chris and Charles. A quick kiss goodbye in their hotel room when Charles finishes getting ready, a quicker “good luck,” from Chris called after him on his way out the door, and a thumbs up over his head as a response summarizes their interactions for the rest of the day. 

Chris works on next week’s lesson plans for a few hours, nothing better to do while she waits to leave for the track. 

She watches the third practice session and quali from the grandstand across from the pitlane, and while neither are his greatest showing, Chris can feel it in her bones that everything is going to fall into place for him tomorrow. A third place start is more than good enough to beat out Perez at Red Bull. She knows it like she knows her own name, and nobody is going to tell her otherwise. 

She goes back to the hotel after quali, doesn’t bother to attempt sneaking into the paddock to try and find him. It just doesn’t feel worth it–navigating a place she doesn’t know, avoiding the cameras and the reporters and the chaos–not when he’ll be coming back to the hotel, back to her. 

She falls asleep moments after sitting down on the couch, and isn’t woken up until she doesn’t even know when. It’s the middle of the night, Charles tells her, guides her to bed and tucks her in like a child, complete with a kiss on the forehead. 

- - -

The first words out of her mouth on Sunday morning are an apology. 

When Charles tries to cut her off with a laugh and a kiss, she stops him just short of her lips, claiming morning breath. “Wow,” he feigns shock. “First you fall asleep on me, now you will not kiss me?”

She rolls her eyes, grabs the back of his neck and pulls him down to kiss her. “Happy?”

He nods and kisses her again. He keeps waiting for it to not feel so exciting, so much like a stupid movie, so young, and it’s yet to reach that point. It’s not even coming close. “Yes, thank you.”

From the other side of the bathroom wall she dares to ask him if he’s nervous, if the pressure is finally manifesting itself into stress. He’s quiet for a while. 

“No,” he eventually calls back.

“No?”

He peels around the doorway, messing with the collar on his team shirt. “Yes,” he admits with a scale-breaking sigh. She wishes he was as sure as himself as she is, that he could feel in his bones it is all going to work out perfectly. 

“Well, I’ll be here when you’re done, and we can either celebrate Charles Leclerc, Vice World Champion,” he turns away at the title, the side profile of a smile turning the corner back into the bathroom. “Or, we can celebrate the end of an exhausting season. Either way, we’re celebrating.” He stays quiet. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” he finally speaks, tone lackluster, unconfident. It’s hard to hear him like this, to hear the distinct shards of doubt that rattle in his chest. “We’re celebrating.”

We’re celebrating. Tonight is a celebration. The positives with the negatives, the good always outweighs the bad. She reminds herself like it’s a mantra. Tonight is a celebration. 

- - -

Alone in the grandstands with an air of certainty about her, Chris’ bar for friendship has never been lower. She finds a group of girlfriends who appear to be sort-of, almost, kind-of, maybe in the same age demographic as she is. They speak English and don’t ignore her when she talks, and that’s enough for her to latch onto for the evening. 

We like McLaren, they tell her, But those Ferrari boys–they’re cute. You can’t help but feel for them. Chris just smiles and nods, offers up a laugh and pretends she won’t be falling asleep next to one of those cute boys later tonight. 

The girls–flew in from London on Friday just for this-fill her in on everything she already knows. They tell her about Charles and his fight for P2, about the strategic pitfalls of Ferrari and the fact that on paper, it was Charles’ year to win it all. 

They’re more nervous during the race than Chris is, not to say that her leg isn’t bouncing watching the times constantly changing, that she isn’t whispering mumbles prayers into the air between here and there, just that she knows. She knows. 

If it was possible to stare through a helmet, Chris would’ve done it during his pitstop, burning the confidence right into his frontal lobe. Her eyes are glued to his car, his helmet, distant and small and buzzing with energy. He’s got it under control, like a perfectly wrapped gift sat in his lap, like a row of monkey bars and hands hardened by months of blisters, like a first kiss and a second kiss and a third kiss. He’s got it under control.

He does, because after what feels simultaneously like the longest and shortest fifty-eight laps of her life, Chris practically has a front row seat to Charles doing donuts. She’s so happy that she thinks she might cry, not that it takes much of anything to pull a tear from her when she’s this exhausted. The girls she’d befriended jump and celebrate and cheer louder than the fireworks. 

Chris tries to live the moment. To feel it all, the energy and the roar and the joy, which only makes it that much harder not to cry. 

Suddenly, momentarily, irrationally emotionally, while she watches him celebrate with his family and his team in front of the whole world she wishes she was down there with him. Screw the world watching, she wants to hug him until her arms are numb and kiss him until she passes out.

There’s no telling when–or even if–she’s going to ever live through a moment like this again. It’s not one she wants to forget. In the chaos of it all, her hand finds her chest, the hard metal of her cross necklace through the fabric of her top, the pulsing of her heartbeat, loud and racing. 

It’s hours before he’s back to the hotel, but it doesn’t feel late at all. He’s still running on adrenaline, just as ready to celebrate as he was when he jumped into his team’s arms. Over the mechanical shifting of the door lock, he can hear Chris’ feet echoing on the floor just on the other side and before he can even make it through the doorway she’s crashing into him. The pure energy that she is knocks him back a few steps, but then he’s hugging her back just as hard, maybe harder. 

He can feel her tears soak through his shirt, and with a laugh asks if she’s crying. 

“Shut up,” she says, and it only makes him laugh harder, hug tighter. God, the show he would have put on if he could’ve found her right after the race. The trouble he would make. “Oh, my god!” She sniffles, pulls her head off his chest and wipes away her tears. “Kiss me, already!”

And so he does. He kisses the shit out of her. 

She pulls away with a smile, arms slinked around his neck like it belongs to her. “So, how does it feel?” She asks, “Vice World Champion, Charles Leclerc.”

He gives her a quick kiss, nothing more than a peck, shrugs, and repeats the action. “Too busy kissing the girl.”

“You’re such an idiot,” she laughs, drops her head so it’s against his chest and vibrates his entire being. It’s a laugh that lights stars, dances around the room like a windchime in the warm August air. The kind so distinct you could hear it across a room ten years later and still know it was her. “A walking cheeseball.”

“A cheeseball?” He humors. 

“I said what I said.”

His satisfied hum says more than words ever could, fingers comfortable dancing along the bone of her hip. “We gotta get ready,” he says. 

“For what?”

“The celebration.”

last chapter masterlist next chapter

[be-my-ally]

His Harley Girl

I suspect, theres a tense change in here somewhere, something I will fix at some point (probably) + I also would like NO comments about my excessive comma usage - in the meantime - apologies for any errors but uh, enjoy! Can you tell I got distracted and this was not my original plan for ironically, a prompt I came up with…?

Written for the prompt: "What are we going to do with [all of them], [this], [these ___ ]?" As always: @thatbanditqueen @whositmcwhatsit @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @from-memphis-with-love @missmaywemeetagain

summary: 1972-4 Elvis takes you on a motorcycle for the first time. 

wc: 3.9k

warnings: 18+, penetrative sex (p in v), slightly unrealistic positions, teeny bit of fingering with a driving glove on. honestly no plot just smut.

yes, I have used this pic before for Let Yourself Go but uh god its so perfect.

He’d convinced you on with a little coaxing, and you’d hesitantly agreed only when he swore up down and sideways that he wouldn’t go too fast and would stick to the city, where you could easily change your mind rather than heading out onto some sort of lonely highway. Still, you’d been nervous stood waiting as Elvis had pulled on his leather gloves, finger by each long finger before straddling the bike, smiling over at you and leaning back to pat the seat behind him. He reassured you, “It’s the latest model, best damn bike Harley’s ever made. Just hold on and you’ll be fine.” You nod, steeling your nerves again - you’re not a total wimp, you’d been up for in concept - when you were hundreds of miles away from any of the motorcycles. Now you were stood in front of it though, no helmets in sight, you couldn’t help but be a little nervous. He patted the seat pointedly again nodding his head impatiently, although with a smile on his face and you swallow anxiously before clambering on behind him. 

“That’s it honey, nice and snug, hold on tight now.” You wrap your arms around his thick stomach, feeling the sturdy expanse of his sides and chest, you’re trying to be a little respectful what with so many of the boys watching on but you can’t help but run your fingers over his soft shirt, tweaking it the tiniest bit when you feel his little nub of a nipple. He shies away with a little huff of a giggle, shaking his head before he places his hand over yours, tugging them even closer and you’re forced to shimmy forward, resting close to his back. 

“Is this - am I too close to you?” You whisper in his ear, 

“Uh-uh baby, you just hang on as tight as you like - you just go with me, ok?” You mumble the affirmative, nerves skyrocketing as you sit there idling. He hums back at you, shifting slightly in your hold. You hadn’t considered how comfortable, how intimate it would feel with your arms around him, leaning against his back, your inner thighs and exposed legs rubbing against his trousers. The engine roars underneath you, a noticeable humming vibration travelling up your body and you jolt a little out of surprise at the the engine coming to life - you’d been too busy considering the situation to notice his hands coming around to the handlebars or turning the key, and simultaneously out of shock at how quickly you can feel the tremors travelling up your legs, how quickly it’s making you feel a little turned on, a little needy. If Elvis feels the way your thighs immediately clench and release he doesn’t mention it, instead revving the engine, causing you to rut the tiniest bit against him at the sudden increase in vibrations and pulling out and away.

He practically zooms out of the gates, and you know it was mostly for the benefit of any onlookers but it still mildly terrifies you, your hair whipping against your cheeks at the speed. You involuntarily close your eyes, resting against him. It’s not long before you feel him pulling over, coming to a stop, engine reduced down to a gentle hum. You blink, pulling back and looking around wondering why he’d stopped only to feel his gloved hand patting your thigh. He’d turned to look at you as best he could while still staying sat, peering at you from the corner of his eye, trying to see past the frame of his glasses before giving up and using the wing mirror. He makes eye contact with you, smiling, 

“Honey, ain’t much point takin’ you for a ride if you’re just gonna hide in me the whole time.” He’s laughing at you, and although you feel yourself blush you’re still leaning a little bit further back, shoving your hair into a ponytail, giggling as you do, 

“Sorry El - it was just - my hair, it was getting in the way. I swear I’ll keep my eyes open.” He shakes his head at you, his laugh a deep rumble in his chest, 

“Go on then baby, wrap them little hands ‘round me again.” You obediently do so, “I’ll slow down a bit for ya - keep them eyes open for me.” You nod against his back, resting your cheek on him, determined to keep a close hold but also keep your eyes open. 

He shifts back before starting the engine again, bumping against your lap. You exhale with a slight start against his shoulder, tightening your hold around his stomach. The heft of him providing a solid weight, offering security even against your fears being on the motorcycle. Your hands grasp at his jacket, helping to tie your balance with his when you go around the corners - your legs are short enough not to be much help there either dangling freely or just about long enough to rest your toes on the bar down the bottom. Despite the way you’re constantly bumping against him with the movement in the road you can tell he’s driving pretty moderately, and you’re brave enough to look around. It was exhilarating in the best way to watch the scenery fly past, without any barrier between you and it. You quickly realise that you’re thoroughly enjoying every aspect of the drive and that you may have been being a tad overdramatic in your fear of what now feels like a remarkably safe ride. 

Now that you’re relaxed into the ride, you feel safe to lean back a little, resting your hands on his hips at stoplights and relaxing your hold from tight around his stomach to a light grip on his shirt. You’re enjoying yourself, but you can’t help but wonder how much longer he intends to ride around for. Then, he hits a little bump, bouncing you both - your hands clench down on his sleeves and shirt. You dread to think what your face must have just looked like as you force yourself to close your mouth from the feeling of the bounce, you’d been distracted from your low level arousal but it was suddenly back full force and you’d ended up even closer to Elvis than before. You try to ignore it, and you’re somewhat succeeding but suddenly it feels as if all your senses have been heightened. You find yourself staring at Elvis’ back, the way his shoulder muscles move as he steers the motorcycle, the way that even despite his heavy masculinity he has a little dip where his waist sits before on either side there was a small, perfectly formed handle of hip. The woodsy, manly smell of him, both the synthetic musk of his cologne and his natural scent mixing in the soft spring air, filling your nose and lungs. It was all a bit much as you find yourself tracking a bead of sweat down the little patch of neck you can see under his slightly longer hair, completely distracted from the journey or scenery, entirely focused on that tiny attractive little bead of sweat. 

You can’t help but shift around a little, feeling the pooling arousal of butterflies in your pelvis. The seat is comfortable, even with the two of you on there but it’s a comfort bike, designed for long roads down empty highways and powerful the insistent roar of the engine a continually tickling sensation. It’s not slimline, not designed for nipping through traffic, and truthfully it’s clearly modelled for a man, meaning that by this point in the ride you’re starting to feel a slight strain in your thighs at the width it forced your legs to accommodate. Elvis grunts a little with the effort of a tight corner and you can’t help but respond with your thighs squeezing on either side of him, muffling a groan into his back as you lean with him. You don’t have to do much though, it really is a very comfortable ride and you’re safe instead to simply relax, not having to worry about moving your body too much. You don’t think Elvis’ noticed the way that every time the engine revs for longer than a few seconds that you can’t help but rock against him, but then it does suddenly seem to be happening more frequently. You feel like your thighs are getting a work out with the way that you’re squeezing them every thirty seconds, feeling the pressure of the vibrations increase. Somewhat embarrassingly you realise that you’ve made yourself feel pretty close to orgasm just from the ride itself and you’re slightly nervous how to make it clear to Elvis that you want him now as soon as you’re parked up. 

Finally though he’s skidding around the corner and back in through the gates of Graceland. He pulls up around the back, driving straight into the carport, tucking the bike into the side before killing the engine. Elvis looks around, seeing there was less of a gaggle than before but still a fair few members of the mafia/family milling about and waves someone over, whispering to them briefly. It’s only a moment later when they all disappear. 

You get off shakily and he turns to you grinning as he too clambers off; 

“Sure felt like you enjoyed that hon-ey?” He’s got a playful lilt to his voice and a twinkle in his eye under his glasses, you feel like you’re missing something, pausing for a second to consider your reply. 

“Oh, of course I did! We should go again! It really wasn’t that scary in the end.”  He stared at you, crooked smile extending into a teasing grin. 

“No you’re misunnerstanding me - I could feel,” He steps forward crowding you so you’re forced to lean back against the hot metal of the bike, “your lil thighs clenchin’ and squeezin’ “ He pats your leg and you obediently spread them, letting his still gloved fingers toy with the hem of your shorts. 

“Oh,…” You don’t know what to say, “Well, uh, it was just, you know, I mean sittin’ so close to you was - well I liked that a lot, and then it was just so,” you pause trying to think of the right word, “- so rumbly.” He lifts you back onto the bike, but this time sideways, your hands coming to grasp at the back bar and front of the seat to keep your balance as he stepped in between your spread thighs. 

“Rumbly?” His eyes are alight with good humour at the turn of events that have led to you being held here, and you can tell he’s finding it amusing to make you squirm as you shyly struggle to explain your current state of arousal to him. His hand come down to clutch at your hips, thumb automatically gently stroking in little circles, while the other comes up to grasp at your neck, tilting your head up to where he was lowering his.

“Uh-huh, rumbly, could feel it all through m’body.” He smiles, clearly pleased you’d been so affected, before kissing you - soundly, your hands coming off the bike to clutch at him as he expertly used his tongue to his advantage, leaving you breathless when you finally pulled apart. 

“Would you,” He looks around almost tentatively, licking his now rosy lips, and running a hand over his hair, “I’ve sent ‘em all away, we won’t - won’t be disturbed.” You still, eyes wide as you comprehend what he’s suggesting. 

“Out - out here?” You can hear how high pitched your voice is and you internally grimace at it before you continue, not wanting to cause him to lose his playful mood, “If- if you’re sure we won’t - no-one will see?” He grins, evidently thrilled at this outcome, 

“Swear it babydoll, I swear.” He mimes a scout’s salute and you laugh back at him, before your focus is suddenly drawn back to his hand where it’s still raised, still encased in that black leather. You can feel your legs falling open a little further and you would be embarrassed if you weren’t so immediately turned on. 

“Can you - I wanna, I want to feel your, unhh, keep your gloves on?” He looks down at his hand and then back up at you from under his lashes, shit-eating smirk on his face, 

“Oh baby - you like these?” He trails a finger down your face, the smoothness, the warmth of the leather, it’s feel so similar yet different to his soft bare hands making you shift back a little, subconsciously searching for the seam on your denim shorts for a little bit of friction. This is almost immediately proven unnecessary when Elvis is demanding you unbutton them, pushing your shirt up your chest to trail a hand around your torso and down your stomach. You stand up abruptly, and tug your shorts off, throwing them down and off somewhere, you couldn’t care less where they ended up so long as they were off right now. Once again he laughs, “God, you eager honey?” He pushes you back onto the bike and you compliantly go, immediately spreading your legs again, “That’s right baby,” He hooks a finger into your panties, pulling them to one side, stroking down your mound and labia you jerk your hips at the feel of that soft, quickly slicked, leather, the fabric making his solitary index finger feel three times the size it was normally. He teases you, leaning down to kiss you again while his other hand explored what it could in this position but you’re forced to pull back, gasping, when he begins to circle your clit with it, the seam running along the fingertip catching it just so. 

“Just lemme,” He pulls the panties further away, crouching down to look directly at your pussy, “Oh, oh yeah honey, that is eager,” he pauses to chuckle to himself in anticipation of his next comment, “That’s one eager beaver right there hon.” You can’t see from the angle he’s crouched at, but you can hear in his voice the grin at his joke. He strokes a second finger with the first, padding at your entrance and when he pulls them away he holds them up to show you the slick stains down the black. “See doll, it’s practically drippin’ already.”

“Oh god, Elvis - god,” You moan, trying to lean further back, flop into an easier position, he swears as he catches you before you can fall, 

“Fuck - you gotta watch where you’re going baby,” He pulls you forward again, dragging you off the bike, balancing you half on his thigh that he jutted out, so that you’re stood tucked against him on your tippy toes and half simply holding you up.  He’s not normally quite so…so… fired up, normally gentle and content to spend his night cuddled up, soft and slow missionary - he doesn’t normally kiss you, thrusting his leg between yours, and tugging at your lip before manhandling you with a grip on your waist and side and pushing you to bend over. You end up resting against the seat, the still warm metal and leather digging into your stomach where you’re almost completely bent over. You squirm, feeling the breeze of the outside air tickle over your exposed pussy and legs. He runs his hand up and down your leg unabashedly feeling you up before pausing, 

“No. Sorry honey that ain’t gonna work. Gotta -“ He’s momentarily distracted by rubbing over you again, at finding exact way to twist his meaty gloved finger to make you moan the prettiest. “Gotta - ‘s not, wanna look at you doll.” You nod frantically agreeing with him, 

“Yeah - Yes Elvis, wanna see you too, wanna see your face.” He grunts with the effort of pulling you back up, holding you on your tip toes for a second hugging you against his side again. 

“Hmm, let’s get these offa you.” He pulls the panties down and you wriggle your knees to send them to the floor. He lifts you, with strength that you hadn’t realised he had, directing you where to place your feet. “C’mon darlin’ that’s it, just like we were before, just, just the other way - get your yittle foot over.” You end up straddling the bike and you can feel hot metal digging into your back. You can lean back a little and your head rolls to the side, tucked into your shoulder as you watch him first remove the gloves, finger by finger, before undoing his pants, shoving them low enough down that you can see the way his cock springs up, ready for action. Clearly the ride hadn’t only been arousing for you. Next thing you know he’s clambering up behind you, hands on your thighs, pulling your legs over his where he’s also straddling the bike, hiking them up, and pulling you up with it.

The engine is still hot and your hands are sweaty as they go behind your head in an attempt to find purchase to grip, your sweaty fingertips sliding over the metal. The feel echoes the slipperiness of your, “Jesus, drippin’ lil yittle cunt” and the way his cockhead bumps and slides around your folds, in  all the slickness that’s gathered there. You quickly, when he grabs your hips and tugs you closer, one hand going to your shoulder, realise its no good trying to find a grip on the bike, instead reaching for Elvis’ arms, his shoulders, anywhere that you could get a decent grip on. You don’t realise that you’re begging as you do, pleading with him to stop playing and do something, anything - but please now. 

A moment later and he’s pushing into you, there’s a gentle but slightly burning stretch for a second, but then you’re wrapping your legs around him, trying to tug him deeper, and he’s leaning forward, thrusting into you with deep slow ruts. You find a little part of your brain suddenly worried about how loud you were being - you trusted that he wouldn’t let anyone see you like this, but he hadn’t made it clear if anyone was still about to hear you but its quickly overridden by your mind going blank to all but the sensations, garbled shouts and moans falling from your lips. Elvis is talking, praising you, almost the whole time, muttering that,

“You’re too fuckin’ perfect, couldn’t even get ya into my own damn house, just had to have ya right here.” He suddenly loses his grip a little bit, and he falls forward, his glasses slipping off his nose and falling god-knows where. You can’t help but reach up to stroke his cheek, even as he leans against you. Feeling the weight of him, supported barely by one arm clutching at the seat, encasing you. He presses down on you, even as he rolls his hips into you, his tummy - his thick body, still muscular from his recent tour, his shirt from where he was still essentially fully dressed, pressed against you. A lesser woman, one who was less enamoured, less in love, less turned on, might have complained - told him he was crushing her, to get off. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to complain - in fact, noises to the opposite effect were escaping your mouth. He wheezes, apologising,

“Sorry doll I’m not, not gonna last long baby, I’m, god, feelin’ you ruttin’ gainst my back I was almost there back on the ride.” You squirm, hips moving of their own accord as you feel, with each of his impossibly deep thrusts, that you’re getting closer to your own orgasm - ironically something that you had similarly been close to since rutting against his back. You regret as he pounds into you with some skill, not just mindlessly pumping but searching out the best spot - the spot to send you over the edge, that you can’t get there without more. You’re about to say so when he blinks at you, sweat travelling from his brow, pink flush on his cheeks, pushing himself up a little further “I’m close mama, I’m close - want you to go with me,” He shoves his hand between the two of you, stroking up your folds and circling your clit, you grind down on him, feeling your walls clench down, and his resulting groan, as he brushes a fingertip over it - the uncertainty of the pressure, combined with his internal stimulation finally send you teetering towards the edge. And though he maintains a steady pace, you can feel when, as your head rolls back and you’re careening into your orgasm,  he moves his hips for the right amount of stimulation for himself, speeding up to fuck you through your own orgasm as he chases his. You’re shaking, quivering as it overcomes you, lost in a sea of your own sensation and oblivious to his orgasm hitting until he’s tragically pulling out, pumping himself once more before shooting across your stomach. 

He sits there for a second leaning on you, catching his breath, his weight a comforting presence as you regain feeling in your toes. Your back is slipping all over the leather in a combination of your own slick and sweat as you squirm and a moment later feel Elvis’ cock twitching against your sticky core. He pulls his scarf off from around his neck, using it to quickly wipe his cum off your tummy, and giving you a gentle wipe, although you’re not convinced silk works the best for that when he pulls it away and it stays connected by a thin web of your slick for a moment. You meet his eyes when he pulls it away to look at it, before tucking it into his pocket and climbing off the back - pulling up his trousers. 

“C’mon darlin’ anyone could see ya out here,” He winks at you, his blue eyes sparkling and a very smug expression on his face, and you let out a shocked, tired, giggle, still shocked that you’d even agreed to this outside. He reaches for the handlebars, handing you your panties where they’d been hanging off of them, like a tassel on a little girl’s bicycle. 

“Oh - thank you.” You giggle, honestly feeling a little keyed up with the adrenaline of the activities of the afternoon, and he looks down at you playfully, helping you up and into the pants, but doesn’t bother with finding your shorts, he simply helps you pull down your shirt to somewhat cover yourself. It’s not like there’s much point being modest out there after having just done that. He kisses your cheek, turning you to face the rest of the carport, unable or unwilling to let go of you and wrapping an arm around your waist, leaning down to whisper in your ear, this time his chest to your back. 

“Look around baby, which one shall we go out on next?” It’s like you’re looking around the cars and motorcycles for the first time, suddenly taken aback at the sheer volume of them - at how many there were. “Why don’t you pick a couple - what about that one over there? It’s another Harley baby, or uh, over there’s one of my Hondas?” You try to see where he’s pointing at, uh, totally different bikes - you can totally tell exactly which ones he’s pointing to. 

“Bu-ut, what are you - what are we gonna do with all of them?”

He laughs, his head thrown back with the force of it, “Guess we’ll just have to go for a ride…on ‘em all.” 

[afreakingdork]

Crush Too Much - Part 6

RotTMNT Donatello x GN!Reader

Warnings: Light Angst, Fluff, Embarrassment, Overbearing Siblings, Aged-up Turtles

Synopsis:  So you met a customer three times at work and that made a pretty big impression on you? That’s nothing to necessarily get worked up over, but when you’re all prepared to ask for his number the next time you see him and his brother gets involved instead, you might be in for something more than you bargained for.

FIRST 💜 PREVIOUS

“You said you had roof access, didn’t you?!” The usual base volume for indoor voices was forced into shouts due to the music thumping from speakers you couldn’t quite locate.

“Ohmigosh! Take the party up to the roof?!” Your friend squealed. That isn’t exactly why you’d asked. She swayed side to side just as her mood switched from overjoyed to serious in nature. “Wait! No, we can’t do that! I’ll get in trouble and I only just got a key to put my plants up there!”

“No, no, no!” You shook your head to help enforce the point in case she couldn’t hear you. “I just want to get some air!”

"Ohhhh.” Your friend nodded as if that was the question you had asked the entire time. “One sec!” With a flourish, she wacked several people crowded around you both and disappeared. Her apartment was full to the brim. A single movement wider than a waddle meant you’d come into contact with at least three other people. A post-finals catharsis, the party had been a great start, but as the night wore on and the temperature skyrocketed, you were reaching your breaking point. With the party having spilled out into both the hall and tiny fire escape, it was sheer luck that you remembered her having raved about her newly granted amenity the week before.

Behind you, a rhythmic tap landed on your shoulder that seemed unlike the usual bustle of a large group. You turned to find your friend now behind you; the opposite direction she had departed. You would have questioned it had she not brought up the dull bronze key like the holy grail.

“Thank you!” You grinned, taking the precious item.

“Treat her right!” Your friend shouted as you wedged yourself between people in a start for the door. “Think of my plants!!!”

You felt like a cartoon character as you popped out of the funnel of people pressure cooked around the front door. In the hallway, you opted for the few flights of stairs that would take you to the roof.  From there a shabby door greeted you. With only a key turn and a jiggle, the night air rushed to greet you. Welcoming it, you closed the door behind you and heaved a deep breath. Spring’s chill was losing its grip as the warmer temperatures during the day meant less severe dips at night. Making sure to tightly palm the key, you surveyed the rooftop. Besides the usual maintenance units, there was indeed a little wooden shelving unit with a few plants dotting it. You smiled at it before heading wayward to a ledge.

The twinkling city unfurled around you. Slumping down with sudden exhaustion, you folded your arms atop the ledge and leaned into it heavily. Down below, cars jockeyed for spots between traffic lights. Sandwiched in the middle, there was a Rear Window’s delight of rooms glowing with activity. Above, lay a landscape of rooftops much like the one you were currently perched. You let the calm of the moment fill you. This was exactly what you needed.

The lull of the moment tugged at your eye lids and you would have closed them had there not been a flash of orange light in your periphery. A small noise of confusion sounded in your throat and you turned to where it had just been. Dark rooftops greeted you. Deciding it must have been a trick of the light, you continued to stare out at the spot as there was no other pull for your attention. It was there, a pop of blue appeared for less than a second at the height of a parabolic arc between two rooves. Dumbfounded, you pushed away from the ledge and took a few tentative steps in that direction. A flicker of red blinked next, following the same path.

If you had blinked you would have missed it so you rushed as far as your roof would take you. The color pattern was unmistakable, but it was missing one. You’d known the statistics for something like this since your impromptu coffee meet up with Donnie last year. It was completely improbable, but if it was the turtles, they were busy with a job tonight. Remembering how you knew such a fact, your hand skirted down to the phone in your pocket. Before you were unable to unearth the device, however, the high pitched buzz of propellers hummed from where you had just been. Your heartbeat thudded loudly in your ears as you spun around.

“Salutations and good evening, citizen!” Donnie exclaimed from where he was hovering. His arms were outstretched in a pose as if he was addressing a large crowd.

“Omigosh!” You played along. “Could it be?!”

“Yes, it is I! Your humble protector!” He swept one hand down in a dignified bow. 

“What a honor.” You laughed and made quick work returning to your original post. It may have been the cocktail of endorphins from the evening’s events or just the high of seeing him out of the blue, but you used the energy to hike a foot up onto the ledge. Then, with the continued momentum, you held a hand as far out to him as you could manage; as one would helping a lady down from a tall carriage. With his goggles down, you couldn’t read Donnie’s expression. A moment of silence passed between you and embarrassment settled in where adrenaline began to trickle out. He’d been flying for years and there was no way he’d have an issue landing. Plus, you had no idea if this was nothing more than a passing hello. Your fingers twitched as you were about to retract the offer when his hand slipped into yours.

The world became so bright as if the sun was making its entrance hours in advance. Your foot pushed off the ledge and he followed the movement dropping down onto it and deactivating his rotors. Taking another step back, you led him down to equal footing and he gave another grand bow. You released his hand and gave him a small round of applause.

“Why, thank you.” He folded his arms and evaluated you. “How’s the party?”

“Hot.” You mimed fanning your collar. “How’s the mission?”

“We tracked the Foot to an ice cream parlor where, you guessed it…” He built up suspense with a raised finger. “They were getting ice cream.” He let his arm collapse and gave a deadpan expression.

“Evil incarnate, indeed.” The two of you shared a look and then laughed. You had known each other a little more than half a year and in that time it felt like your rapport lasted a lifetime. Your affections for him had only grown, but your current bond was so satisfying that it didn’t feel as though it need to be addressed. Taking his hand had been a bold move on your part, but he hadn’t shunned you away. It was enough food, so to speak, to keep you fed for at least a month. “I think I saw the others too.” You pointed to where you had seen the partial rainbow.  

Donnie reached up and raised his goggles to look. “That’s where I spotted you from. Good eye.”

“I didn’t see you though…” You tried to resist the pout, but it settled into your lips anyways.

“Let’s just say I was leading the pack.” He tapped one of the shoulder straps of his battle shell and you nodded knowingly.

“I liked your entrance.” You chuckled.

“I always thought I’d crush a good stage.” He closed his eyes, imagining the scene.

“I can see the marquee now…”

“My name in lights!” He pointed a finger toward the sky.

“You going straight to Broadway or off?”

“I’d have to start small. The world isn’t prepared for me to unleash my full potential.”

“It would just be a side project next to those Nobel prizes.” You rolled your eyes, maybe you were feeding his ego a bit too much.

“Absolutely. There is no way I could forget my one true love!” He swooned. “Science!”

“She is a fickle mistress though.”

“That’s what makes her more alluring.”

“There you are, D!” You jumped as a voice came from behind you.

“Michael, you are interrupting a very important discussion about my theater career.”

You turned to face Mikey and resisted the urge to stare. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t spoken to the youngest sibling. He had intercepted a few video chats with Donnie before, but it was your first time meeting him in person.

“Whoopsie!” Mikey clucked before catching a glimpse of you and gasping. “Y/N!”

“Hi.” You gave a half wave that was intercepted when he plucked your hand out of the air and started shaking it.

“Nice to finally meet you in the flesh!” The orange hero bobbed.

“Same.” The sentence warbled out of you with the force.

“Interrupting!” Donnie raised his voice as an mechanical arm came out of his battle shell and tapped his brother on the forehead.

On contact, your hand was freed and you watched the silver appendage return to its purple casing in awe. It was another thing you had yet to see in person.

“You just disappeared though.” Mikey pointed at Donnie. “Of course we were going to look for you.”

“It was just a short detour, if it was anything more than you would have been notified.” Donnie turned his head away in mild irritation.

“Aw, it’s ok. Say no more, oh bro-there!” Mikey’s outstretched digit turned to you and fired off a snapped into a finger gun. “I see exactly what’s happened!” He punctuated the sentence further by sending you a wink.

It suddenly made a lot more sense why Donnie hadn’t laughed when you’d done something similar before.

“No.” Donnie stared dryly. “I don’t think you do.”

“There you two are!” A hulking figure in a red mask dropped down between Donnie and Mikey. Your jaw dropped as he straightened to his full height. It was the third in person quick time event of the evening and video had not done Raph any justice. He also hadn’t directly interrupted chats like Mikey had, so the distance in a digital frame added to the reveal. “What are you guys doing?! I already stopped some thieves and dropped them off in front of the closest police station!”

“Raphie, look! It’s Y/N!” Mikey pointed to you repeatedly.

“That’s really not necessa-“ You raised your hands to stop the ongoing introductions.

“Oh, nice to final-"

“Nope!” Donnie announced, four mechanical arms sprouting from his back. “Michelangelo. Raphael. Y/N.” An arm pointed to each of you in time. “There, everyone has already spoken and these pleasantries are a waste of time!”

“Donnie!” Raph barked. “Don’t be rude!” The red hero turned to address you. “You’re probably already aware of how my brother can be, but I am de-lighted to make your acquaintance for real.”

“Me too.” You covered the side of your mouth to shield the reveal from Donnie who rolled his eyes. Stifling a laugh, you lowered you hand. “I didn’t mean to keep anyone.”

“You weren’t!” Donnie shouted. “Don’t pander to them!”

“I’m not!” You pursed your lips. “You're the one who ditched!”

“How many crooks were there?” Mikey turned his attention up to Raph.

“Three!” Raph puffed out his chest proudly.

“Alright!” A commanding fifth voice rose above the two conversations. “Are you having a party without yours truly!?” You all turned to find Leo looming in a power pose on the closest ledge.

“Does it look like-”

“No way!”

“As if you’d be invited.”

“Well….”

Leo gave you specifically the stink eye.

“What?!” You looked between him and Donnie who was also side eyeing you, but in a more amused fashion.

“Wait.” Leo dropped the leader-like façade and pointed a blade at you. “Are you serious right now?”

You balked at the tip for only a moment before Raph placed his body between you and the weapon. Fluidly, he threw a hand back and gently nudged you towards Donnie. “Leo!” He scowled and turned to check on you. “You ok? I swear we’re usually not this childish.”

“That’s a blatant lie.” Donnie griped before taking a noticeable step back. He gave you a look when doing so that telegraphed to follow his lead so you did.

“You’re already tall enough so why not get off that high horse?” Leo grumbled, hopping off the ledge. “It’s a simple question.” Leo’s gaze ripped through the gallery and honed in on you.

“Am I technically at a party? Yes. Were you invited? No, but you don’t know the host.” You shrugged. You were never sure how to handle Leo, but this current version of him was something else. He was usually carefree and cocky to a fault, but this was also the first time you’d seen him amongst his brothers. There were small facets of him still the same, but he was a long shot from the Leo you attended events with.

“Right.” There was a venom to the single word that popped out of Leo’s mouth. You could almost see the overlay of him at the last event you’d attended about 3 weeks prior; he had a smile on his face as you were both served a tasting menu for a new upscale restaurant.

You were about to open your mouth to question it when Donnie interceded. “Don’t bother.” The purple hero had his phone out and was scrolling.

“Well, this has all been fun and good, but I got a lead on some mystic shenanigans.” Sheathing his weapon, Leo turned to address Mikey. “Where’d we officially land with the Foot?”

“They were having ice cream as a team building exercise and party for foot soldier number 12.” Mikey saluted and then smiled. “It was his birthday.”

Beside you, Donnie waved his phone covertly to get your attention.

“Raph, how’d it go with the bank?”

You looked at the purple hero curiously and found his front-facing camera was on.

“Three guys were trying to bust open an ATM. I knocked them out in one go and dropped them off for the cops.” Raph nodded triumphantly.

Donnie gave you a questioning look and you bobbed with an excited nod. His need to document was something you delighted in. It meant you had a slew of pictures of the two of you together to peruse at any given moment.

“And no one saw you?” Leo folded his arms.

Donnie leaned in close and brought the camera up. You swallowed any excitement and shot a peace sign while he pursed his lips.

“No way.” Raph waved the sentiment off like it was nothing. “It’s not like they were trying to steal from it with people around.”

The soft click of the shutter went off a few times and Donnie shared his phone to review the photos with you.

“Ah.” You reached up and smoothed your hair. “How does hair get so messed up when you’re just out there existing?”

“I know what you mean.” Mikey was suddenly next to you causing your second jump scare at his hands. “I have a wig for One Love, my wrestling persona, and it’s like I have to style it every hour or so!”

“It doesn’t look like anything’s out of place.” One of Donnie’s mechanical arms popped out and offered you a compact mirror.

“It’s right there in the picture.” You gave him a thankful smile regardless and he held the mirror up while you fixed your hair. “I’ve heard taking care of a wig can be tough.”

“It’s all about care, baby!” Mikey put a confident finger to his chin. “You have to be careful with the fibers in whatever you’re doing from brushing, to washing, to styling…” He trailed off and grinned. “You do all that right and she’ll treat you the same.” He followed it up with a catwalk-type pose and you giggled.

“Ok, I think I got it…” You trailed off looking side to side at your mini reflection.

“Once more then.” Donnie held up his phone and the two of you got a few more photos together before letting Mikey in for his own set.  Bringing his phone back down, you watched Donnie swipe back and forth between the last before and first after hair photo. “I see… When they’re side by side your coiffure was indeed messed.”

“I told you!”

“I'm sorry, are you seriously taking selfies while I’m doing status debriefs?!” Leo forced the words out of a huge faked smile. He pushed past Raph and smacked the mechanical arm still holding the mirror out of the air.

“Touch my tech again, I dare you.” Donnie seethed, baring his own teeth.

It really seemed like a fight was about to break out. You watched Raph wipe an exasperated hand down his face while Mikey weakly tried to interject between the two. You looked around rapidly for an idea to break the tension.

“Mikey!” You shouted, everyone turning to look at you.

“Yes?” The orange hero responded with melodic sweetness.

“Did you say wrestling persona? What’s up with that?!” You all but quacked it out, but the stunned silence that followed seemed to at least buy time.

Stars shined in Mikey’s eyes. “It’s been way to long, but we all have one! Raph’s the biggest wrestlehead amongst us though!”

“Aw, I don’t know about that…” Raph scratched at his chin sheepishly.

“Don’t be like that Red Reign!” Mikey flexed his muscles and then got right between Leo and Donnie. “And here we have the one-time champ Primetime and the backstabbing Dynamite Don!”

“Excuse you?!” Donnie reeled like he’d been slapped. The move put several more steps between him and the blue hero.

“Hey, you are what you do!” Mikey shrugged with his eyes closed like it was a fact, but one lid lifted like he knew what he was doing.

You could take a cue from that. “Primetime?” You tittered, hiding your snarky smile behind a hand.

Donnie had his phone out and was scrolling furiously.

“I had way better names lined up but the announcer, who-" He shot a quick glare at Mikey. “-was the real turncoat-!” His gaze snapped back to you. “-shot them all down!”

“He says even though he got to choose this outfit.” Donnie materialized by your side with his phone screen on display. It held an image of all four brothers in their wrestling outfits.

“What was wrong with my outfit!?” Leo all but screeched.

“Those aren’t shoulder pads, Donnie. Those are shoulder mountains.” You were glad you hand was still up because now you were really stifling laughter.

“Har-har.” Donnie responded dryly. “They contained missiles so jokes on you.”

“The sideways cap was a bit of a dated choice…” Mikey sympathized by putting a hand on Leo’s shoulder.

“Alright, enough of these distractions.” He glared you down before turning, stepping back up onto the ledge, and staring out over the city. His serious tone quieted the group. “Does anyone remember what I said earlier?”

“You want to be invited to a party?” Mikey wondered.

“You got a mystic tip.” Raph shook his head and stated it like it was the most obvious fact in the world.

Donnie leaned in right to your ear and cupped a hand to shield his mouth from view before whispering. “Hey, one final dig at Nardo for the road?” His hot breath against the side of your neck made every microscopic hair stand up.

Leo still had his back to the bunch, but you could tell her was about to turn so you pivoted and mimicked Donnie’s ear move back to him. “As long as you promise not to get into a real fight.”

You traded places once again and Leo began his rotation. “The most I can agree to is not starting the physical altercation myself. The two of us have been fighting like this for years, but one would be remiss not to notice how he was gunning for you. That alone means he deserves it.” The fact that he was doing this for your honor made you want to drop to his feet and confess your misgivings. Guilt crept in because while you’d hadn’t been coy about knowing Leo, it suddenly occurred to you that you hadn’t told Donnie about all the events you attended with his brother.

“Care to share with the class?” Leo whipped both his swords out in annoyance.

With Leo now playing into Donnie’s hands, you had no time to confess. Keeping pace, you leaned in for what you presumed to be the final time. “Why thank you, Mr. Humble Protector.” You couldn’t help but blow out a little extra steam as you pulled away. There was no visual effect on Donnie.

Instead the purple hero faked a snicker and gave Leo his best innocent Mikey impersonation. “Whatever do you mean, brother dear?”

“Oh…” Leo was fuming. “Oh! You’re in for it now, you-!”

The door to the roof suddenly burst open like it had been kicked. “Y/N!”

The boy’s vanished and you gaped now alone on the roof.

You friend from earlier strolled out and looked around. “What are you still doing up here?”

“I-I was about to come back down!” You spoke a little too fast as you glimpsed the reflections off the turtle’s eyes. They were all variously perched around the door in the shadows. “Just cooling off, you know!” You waved a dismissive hand at her.

She leaned into your personal space and examined you a narrowed gaze. “Hmmm, yeah?”

“Yep! Let’s go back inside!” You reached out to lead her.

She snapped upright and slammed one first into the open palm of her other hand. “Oh, I know what’s up!”

“I doubt-“ You tried to intercept.

She was dripping with wicked intent. “I bet you were on the phone! Talking to that boooooyyy you lik-“

“Noooooooooooooooooooo!!” You started the syllable and held it in a monotonous note as you spun her around and pushed her all the way back into the building. You caught Donnie giving you a half wave just before you disappeared out of sight. You didn’t stop the sound until you heard the door click shut behind you.

“Ok! Ok!” She batted you away. “I get it! Sensitive subject!” She brushed herself off. “Just lock the door and let’s get back to it!” She did a little dance and you sighed, wishing you didn’t have to skirt so many crisis at one time.  

-

“So then I says to the guy, ‘what, you mean these apples?!’” Leo held out his hand as if he were palming the poignant fruit and the crowd around him went wild. You had to hand it to him; the schmoozing you’d first recommended when you brokered your deal with him had really taken off. The two of you were currently attending a rooftop soiree held by a prominent art buyer who had taken quite a shine to the blue hero. It wasn’t just her, because the crowd seemed to move and form an impenetrable bubble around Leo wherever he went. If it wasn’t for him making sure you didn’t get squeezed out, you would have surely lost sight of him completely. “Alright, alright!” He chuckled, raising his hands for a timeout. “My next set is in ten so don’t go anywhere!” He spun around and hooked your arm in one smooth motion. Behind you the gaggle of wealthy tittered excitedly.

“Thirsty?” You asked, falling in line as your headed towards one of several servers.

“Parched!” He snatched two flutes and passed you one before taking a long sip of his own. He flourished under the attention. It was a stark contrast to his behavior on the roof just a few weeks ago. The evening was something he seemed to neither care to or have the time to address in favor of rubbing elbows.

You delicately sampled the effervescent liquid. It was far tangier than you’d expected. “That’s some kind of citrus…” You hummed, trying to place it.

“Sure.” Leo shrugged absentminedly. He fidgeted with his glass in a way that seemed antsy. You wondered if it was ever about the drinks at all.

“You ok?” You wondered, swirling your drink.

“Yes.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “No.” He sighed. “I've been dreaming of a night like this-” He threw his hands up and gestured to the decked out event space with a twirl. “-for months, but then something else came up and now I can’t enjoy it like I should!” The resentment steeped in his words was pretty pointed.

“The rooftop, I assume?” You much preferred how Donnie would just pose his questions and not give you the theatrical run around as his brother did.

“I’m just so upset I wasn’t invited to that party.” Leo steeped his sentence in sarcasm.

“Then what else happened that night? You sort of just appeared annoyed!” You pleaded with your eyes.

His brows scrunched and his lips parted when another voice spoke.

“Oh, there you are, Leon!” The elderly host approached with gracious airs.

Leo switched to full schmooze and gave a bow while taking her hand. “You look ravishing as ever. Is that a new tennis bracelet? Don’t tell me your husband forgot the reservation plans again?”

The woman was as fizzy as your drink. “So perceptive! I can tell you all about it, but I’ve been hearing mention of apples and I knew it must be one of your delightful stories.”

“Guilty as charged!” Leo adjusted his tie with a saccharine grin.

“Shall we?” The host looked across from Leo to you.

“Actually…” Leo leaned forward, blocking the sight line before you could respond. “You know I would never think of turning down an invitation to gossip with you, but my date and I needed to work out our plans after this and you know how the reservations are at Per Se!” Leo squabbled up toward the end of his fib with all the grace of a charmless man, but the host seemed none the wiser.

“Of course, they can be so finicky and can you imagine if you were forced to walk-in at the saloon?” She seemed as though she might faint at the thought. “You darlings head down towards the bar and hook around it. That’s where the caterers are working out of the second kitchen. Drop my name if they give you any guff, but straight through there is an intimate private dining room with a look out over the city.”

The opulence of it all was outrageous.

“Thank you and I promise I won’t keep you in suspense too long!” They exchanged cheek kisses without getting anymore than a foot near one another. A server offered to take your empty drink just as Leo turned and grabbed your hand. He rushed to follow the directions and you couldn’t help but compare the feeling to lower Donnie onto the roof. The hands had a similar shape, but not a single familar spark.

No one in the kitchen seemed to mind your intrusion and as you exited another set of double doors, you stepped out into a small, dimly lit room. There was a single white clothed table pressed up against a stunning view. You drifted out of Leo’s grip to stare out in awe.

“This is absurd…” You turned back to commiserate, but instead found Leo one step away from falling over. “Woah, hey!” You stepped forward, but he averted you in favor of lurching toward the table and taking a seat.

“It’s fun and I can do it all day, but it takes its toll.” He shook his head and already seemed to be on the mend.

“I can see that…” You tapered off and took the seat opposite him. He seemed like he needed another minute so you turned and appreciated the view more. A calm settled in as only the distant sounds of the caterers could be heard.

“The prince charming routine was cute, I guess.” Leo suddenly spoke well after you’d forgotten you were waiting for him in the first place.

“Hm?” You turned to him, the words not really making sense.

“Him taking your hand was more surprising though.” He anchored an elbow to the table and dropped his chin against his fist.

“What are you-?” You stopped. There was only one of hand you had held that he could be referring to. “Were… were you watching us?”

“We were all following Donnie and then suddenly he wasn’t in front of us anymore.” Leo responded matter-of-factly. “It didn’t have the usual trademarks of emergency landing so, I broke off from the group to see what was up.”

“But that means you were watching from the very beginning.” Mercury levels were rising in your blood as you felt scandalized.

“How do you think I felt?” Leo stuck his tongue out at the thought.

“And when Mikey came?” Your hands came down to the table with a bit too much force. “Raph!?”

“To which you all immediately got off track and I had to pull rank as leader to wrangle everyone back in!” You couldn’t believe Leo was still painting himself the victim.

“So you’re upset I distracted them?”

“No!” Leo grouched and tipped back in his chair while pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s none of those things. Here, I’ll clear the board for you. It’s not that you went to a party without me, which for the record, is your loss. It’s not that your existence lured Donnie away. It’s not that you distracted the guys. It’s not the stupid little whispering joke you and D shared. It’s not the selfies. It’s not the smiles. It’s none of that!” His chair snapped forward and he banged the table.

His sudden flare of emotional quelled yours. “Then what’s wrong?”

As if deprived oxygen, Leo’s flame shrank before snuffing out. “You haven’t made a move.”

Your brows knit and your head jerked back. “What?” You were already clueless, but that statement had come from a further left field then you'd imagined.

“How do I put this?” He ran a hand over his head like he was combing through locks. “Watching the two of you was sickly in a sweet way.” He huffed and brought his hands down to the table like he was bargaining. “Don Tron yapping and tapping to his screens is one thing, but seeing him split off from a mission, though yeah sure it was a bust, was something else.”

With all the heat rushing to your head you would have thought it was properly summer. “Woah there…” Why hadn’t you grabbed another drink for the road? “I thought you weren’t going to interfere?”

“Ugh, I’m not!” Leo dropped his head down to the table before popping right back up. “Ok, let’s reframe.” He made a square with both his hands and looked through it at you. “Oh, look! What’s that? It’s two dummies sucking up all the good oxygen and making goo-goo eyes at each other! And, oh gosh, you’re going to want to see this?” He turned the hand cam on its side as if he was capturing another angle. “We have the real hero of the story-” He broke character and looked above the frame to whisper. “That’s me.” Then he went right back to his previous action. “-having to choke on their excess fumes because he’s the only one in the whole world that has the perspective to know how one of them really feels about the other.” He dropped the shtick and stared at your expectantly. “Get it now?”

You stared at him for a moment before dropping your gaze down to the tablecloth. “You’re…” You chanced looking at him once more. “…talking about me?”

“Yes! Obviously!” Leo threw his hands out as if his star monologue had finally be acknowledged. “Donnie’s feelings are…” Leo flipped his hand back and forth. “Murky, at best? And annoying at most. I’m invested in his well being. You’ve proven to me that you’ve got that handled. So, with my brother squared away that leaves you.”

You shook your head indignantly. “You’re saying that you’ve been made at me for the last three weeks, because of me?”

“Eh, you lost some the great nuisance I just explained, but it’s hard to capture my exquisite flavor of language.” He flicked his head with his chin held high. “I’m saying my partner in crime of whom I’ve become fond of and am rooting for is starting to tick me off because they are harboring quite the loaded stick of dynamite feelings and just snuffing them out.”

You jerked your head away at the mention of emotion. The blue hero was ever the stickler for forcing you to confront your feelings. “That’s not how I’d put it.”

“Is it still just ‘like?’” He smashed a single digit into the table as if he were interrogating a criminal.

There was no way to hide the guilt that painted your entire body.

Leo held his hands up to stop you from making a move. “You don’t have to say it. In fact, I would prefer you didn’t!”

Instead of wishing for a drink, you now craved an entire bucket of ice water to dunk your head in. It probably wasn’t the strangest thing the caterers had been asked for. “I’m getting some crazy mixed signals.”

“Ex-act-ly!!!!” Leo shouted, pushing off the table so violently that his chair tipped over. You scrambled to your feet and watched as instead of spilling out, the ninja did a backwards somersault out of the motion and rushed back towards the table. “That is why I’ve been just torn to shreds about it.” He clutched a fistful of his jacket in demonstration.

“You were mad at me!” The force of the exclamation would have taken you to your feet if you weren’t already standing.

“There you got getting picky about phrasing again, Y/N.” He took a deep breath and grabbed the table, hunching over. “One last time, I’ll lay it out plainly for you. I just want my cohort to be happy. I thought you were, but then I saw you have a real, authentic interaction with-“ He bit his tongue and whimpered. Shaking off the pain, he continued with a mild wince. “-with the person you care about and I could just see how you were holding back which means you’ve been holding back all this time and I hate that for you.”

You softened and withered back down into your seat.

“And I don’t want to her that blah-blah-I’m-happy-as-long-as-we’re-friends line!” He brought one hand up and pointed it straight until it just barely touched the tip of your nose. “That’s fine and well, but you know what’s better? Actually being just friends!” Leo pushed off the table and took his time setting his chair back up. “Which is where it gets complicated for me…”

You nodded for him to go on, unsure if you could even offer anything to this speech.

“Because I don’t want you to force it and I don’t want you to just ‘ask him out’ or however kids do it these days!” He alternated between touching fingers to his forehead and throwing out his hand with each statement. “I don’t want you to confess to just do it. It should be special! I just…” He trailed off and even though he’d been struggling to put his emotions into words this whole time, he finally looked truly defeated. “I want what’s best for both of you and I want you to both be happy and it feels so close, but there’s nothing I can personally do anymore to help make that happen.” He slumped with such force the chair creaked with protest under his weight.

It had been long winded and a little dicey at times, but that was the very heart of the matter. Your eyes began to water and you closed them to prevent any leakage. “I’m torn between saying I’m sorry and thank you…” You gave a dry chuckle. You didn’t feel like you deserved to be exhausted like he was, but you certainly felt like you could crawl into bed.

“Right back at you!” One of Leo’s hands shot up in a wobbly point towards the ceiling before his arm collapsed back down on the table.

“How are you ever going to get back to retelling that apple story?” The mood had relaxed enough that you felt comfortable resting your head upon your folded arms as a means to drop down to Leo’s current level on the table.

“Ugh, the apples!” He groaned, drawing a lazy circle on tablecloth. “Let’s ditch and say we need ice cream, per se.”

“What even is that?” You chuckled dryly.

Leo didn’t have enough energy for a theatrical gasp so he flicked your arm. “It’s a bougie restaurant that we’re trying to get Mikey into for his birthday.”

The statement brought your head up. “Is that the real reason why you’ve been schmoozing so hard?!” Your voice raised with excitement as the sentence went on.

“No!” Leo barked, but then groaned. “Fiiiiine. Crashing galleries is way more fun, but having these contacts can get that commis chef into places he deserves to eat.”

“Look at this soft, mushy Leon under all that shiny veneer!” You faked gushing and he followed it up with a gag.

“I’m still me! If you out me, I’ll out you!” You could see right through him now, so the tinges of fear were obvious.

“You really wouldn’t.” You remarked fondly. He rolled his eyes. “And you should know, I wouldn’t either.”

“Yeah, yeah, this was fun and all, but let’s promise never to do this again, ok? Bye!” He waved you off, but did not move an inch from his position against the table.

You settled back into your arm pillow and let the silence pour in around you both. “Let’s say…” Your mouth seemed to start of its own accord. “… that I’m not going to take your advice. I’m not going to do what you say, but hypothetically…”

“Hypothetically.” Leo agreed.

“If I were to ask you what you think the next step was, what would you say?” Your lids lifted and looked across the table at an expectant Leo. “Out of only curiosity.”

“Hm! Quite the fake scenario you've come up with.” He hummed and the question seemed to give him just enough energy to sit up. “All of this under the table, nothing leaving the room, with no actual thought put into it, I would say you should ask the smart idiot on a real date, not dating, but just a single solitary, 'let’s actually do what all the couples in the movie’s do,' date date.” He smoothed out the creases that had formed in his jacket from all the dramatics. “Just feel it out for real without holding back for once.”

You hummed in agreement and took to your feet with great care to push your chair in. “I like your very fake and not something I would ever do, probably, scenario.”

“Great, that’s what I hoped you would say. You know I spent exactly 15 seconds coming up with it?” He turned in his chair, but couldn’t quite get his legs underneath him.

“That long?” You played up astonished wonder and held out your arm for him to take.

He hooked his appendage through yours and with only minor trembling, got upright.  “I’m already aiming to beat my record.”

You chuckled and lead the way back to the kitchen. “Now, all that phony stuff aside, let’s make that ice cream a reality?”

“Wooo! Ice cream black tie style?” With his freehand he snapped a lapel. “Now that’s a Leo-approved type of evening!”

NEXT

A/N: I just want the record to state that I know current Donnie has 3 battle shells that all have specific tech, but let’s just say future-Don has figured out how to pack all three into one!

[defining-skyology]

Finding the Light. (Defining Megabird #1)

I've mentioned the term 'loremoth' quite a lot, but haven't really elaborated on my definition of it. Within Sky's in-game social community, being a 'moth', or a new player, is a visually traceable status, showing on their backs and of their clothes, showing by the lack of seasons they've experienced and glitches they've overcome. But the Lore community is a Space held externally from the game, leading to it not being so much of a visual dogma, but rather more of... An Experience.

Hungry new lore theorists are fueled by their own personal preferences of thumbnails, baits, and key words; pulled in by what they find interesting, and after they devour that magical initial subject, they hopefully will look and then find the next thing.

Each of these sudden lore hooks end up being their Drive to have more, to dig for more, and to understand more. They feel it's become special to them; that they're in on 'the secret' now.

And one of the best topics to make loremoths feel like they're in on an absurdly colossal secret... 

Is the topic of the Megabird.

[[[Continue Reading]]]

In the early crazes of Lore, during the first year of Launch, interest in the Megabird skyrocketed, and when curious Sky players asked others who seemed more involved and invested in theorizing about the story, many users of Lorechat in Skycord would casually reply, "Well it's basically the god of Sky". 

Most murals and concept art depict the Megabird as a giant flowing golden angelic thing, with extravagantly long wings or tails. Sometimes it would be made of feathers, sometimes it would seemingly be shown as made of Creatures of Light. 

Early concept art refers to it as "One", some concepts say "Megabird", while others say "The Megabird", and late-stage concepts begin to refrain from calling it Megabird or 'The Megabird' at all, instead detailing a concept of "The Light" that was still unarguably the same 'character' from before. Post-launch content has never described it as The Megabird.

Despite this, Megabird ended up being heavily personified from 2019 to late 2021 by the community, and fans gobbled up anything about Megabird, especially Megabird as a character; as a god who would interact with the Elders and skykids. Megabird's fanbase grew to the point where it'd be given nicknames; it's most famous moniker being "Megan the Megabird". If only for the sake of having a character to use as a foundation for bountiful headcanon and fanfics, people seemed to cling fanatically to the idea of Megan; to the idea of having a deity. Perhaps there are or aren't some further psychological takeaways from the eagerness of the fanbase to have a 'god of Sky', but let's move on to a different notation for a while, and head back into the game.

Picture posted to Tumblr by lowkey-loki245

For the 4 years that players found themselves in the Descendant's era, creatures of Light have always been seen migrating at all times towards the beacon of Ascension in the Eye of Eden, but this isn't an absolute rule. Creatures often will be found frolicking and soaring wherever they want, far from the main path to Eden. Mantas will take elegant laps around wide open areas, and rarer creatures are either hardly or never seen ascending up into Orbit. 

But water doesn't halt its cycle, and Light shouldn't either. Water rushes down mountains, through valleys, flooding plains and reservoirs, yet not all of the water gets to the Ocean like it should. But though it gets stuck in spots, underground rivers and evaporation ensure the water cycle will always occur. It has to be the same for Light.

The lore community has long since determined that all beings in the world of Sky (so far) all are made of Light. {There can be a post explaining that on another day, because not everybody is so willing to believe this.} This includes: creatures of Light, Ancestors, Descendants, and yes, even dark creatures are made from Light; just warped light, to be exact.

If we're to continue with our comparison to the water cycle, then this means all of those living Beings are made out of {metaphorical} water. Water flows from the Source and descends until it reaches the Main Body of the ocean, and all Light cycles throughout the world until it can get to Orbit again. This cycle of the life energy of Light flowing in and out of a main body is exactly what we need to focus on, and lo and behold, quite a few pieces of concept art confirm this.

The meaning and purpose of some of these concepts have been long forgotten, and don't reflect the lore of the game today in post-launch, but there is one big theme going on here that they still intend to this day; all Beings of Light will eventually journey to rejoin the Megabird.

We talked before about how they slowly transitioned towards using a simple base word to describe the megabird instead of giving it an almost characterizing name, and I believe they had to have done this intentionally. (Well, as intentional as TGC ever gets.)

We can and may still call it 'the Megabird', but from now on we understand that we are referring to 'the Light'. So, why did they depersonalize Megan into a character-less thing? As we ascend through orbit and into the Ocean of Light, the Main Body of our life energy; lore theorists all over the interwebs would still be looking for the character Megabird. "Where is Megabird? Surely it's that constellation above us? Maybe it's the giant gate that sends us towards rebirth? Maybe it just hasn't shown itself?" But as the voice of Aurora calls to us and the warmth of the ultimate Light pulls us in, vaporizing darkness as we come, I just have to ask:

"Isn't that the Megabird that we're entering?"

A pure, deep, limitless orb. We are drawn in by its intensity, and as we get closer to being Absorbed we can see creatures swimming in and out of its surface. In the Sea of Light. All things here in unison, all things belonging to One; each moving speck of Light, a drop of water in an endless pond of pure harmony.

Whenever we enter the Light; when we enter the Megabird, we become dissolved into that sea, and we join One in it's neverending song.

You might notice we're not going to end with any solid Defining going on, and that's because you're supposed to take this in and think about what you make of it. It'll be important for part two.

But we'll have to research further into proving THAT on Thursday, because unfortunately, this post has gotten way too long.

{{{Megabird Part #2 is out! Click here to continue Our journey.}}}

Thank you to the two readers who got this far, and I hope you can all think critically, never perspire, and have a wonderful rest of your week.

[teecupangel]

Ad Altaïr Anon

Curse ye Tumblr! Why must you prevent me from showing the image of t-posing Altair moments before being sucked into The Cube!! (it's absolutely not me being a first-time nooby asker who has never sent a link through ask ever nu-uh it's all tumblr)

maybe this link will work instead, I'm slightly better with imgur links at least :v

https://imgur.com/a/Hl2elSH

And yeah that's it! I never put one on my computer myself simply because i once tried to mod minecraft in the olden days and messed up so badly that I figured i should just leave that sort of stuff alone.

But AH, my heart! The future and doomed Desmond giving them that slight control over the grey so maybe this Desmond wouldn't have to die 😭

but also lol oh boy would Altair get lost in the sauce surfing the web! It worse than when he was alive with the apple because now he doesn't have to eat, drink, or sleep so someone has to pry him out of the web every once in a while.

(The only real modding I’ve done in a long time was for Mugen back in those days. To be honest though, my brother helped me add characters and stuff hahaha)

The “Altaïr interrupts Desmond’s game using an ‘ad’” idea and its sorta prequel sorta sequel for those curious

“We need to talk about Altaïr’s internet addiction.”

Desmond stared at Shaun’s solemn expression for a fraction of a second before he turned his attention back to the instant noodles he was having for lunch.

He didn’t really like soggy noodles.

“Desmond, this is serious.” Shaun placed his hands on the table and towered over Desmond who was hunched to make it easier to eat his noodles.

That was a bad move.

Desmond could just as easily headbutt his nose at this distance.

“I’m listening, Shaun.” Desmond replied half-heartedly before eating once more.

He didn’t understand why Shaun wanted to talk to him about Altaïr’s internet addiction. It wasn’t like Desmond could stop the man from scouring every web page available in Wikipedia in his endless pursuit of knowledge.

… not that he would want to anyway.

“Desmond, Altaïr has been using the computer 24/7. We have to keep the AC on just to make sure the computer doesn’t overheat. Together with the electricity needed for the Animus and our other devices, two of which are now fully being used by Ezio and Connor-”

Desmond slowly raised his head so Shaun would have a warning to pull away. It was still a close call, Desmond’s head almost knocking against Shaun’s nose but Shaun stood and crossed his arms while Desmond took a sip of the soup before asking, “Are you… are you trying to talk to me about our upcoming electric bill?”

“Not ‘ours’ but the building we’re ‘piggy backing’ from.” Shaun clarified, “They’ll definitely think something is up when they see the sudden spike.”

“Then isn’t this too late already?” Desmond countered lightly, “The bill’s gonna come sooner or later. Might just be better for us to book it.”

Shaun grimaced but did not deny it.

Desmond sighed before he said, “How about this. I’ll tell Altaïr to find us a new safehouse and take care of the logistics and stuff. That’ll be his punishment for skyrocketing some random business’ electric bill.”

Shaun opened his mouth, most probably to argue, so Desmond asked, “Unless you already have the next safehouse in mind?”

Shaun sighed as he said, “I’ll tell the others about it. You tell Altaïr about his punishment.”

Desmond waved his hand before lowering his head to continue eating while Shaun stormed out of the dining room, most probably to bother Rebecca.

Or complain to her.

Maybe both.

Probably both.

Desmond waited until he could no longer hear Shaun’s footsteps before turning to look at his phone that was lying next to the cup noodles.

“Congrats, Altaïr. You got what you wanted.” Desmond mumbled.

His phone’s screen lit up and showed Altaïr in front of his homescreen, arms crossed as he said, “Not yet. Not until we’ve finally settled in a more secured location.”

“More secured.” Desmond snorted, “Just say the internet is too slow for you here.”

“Hm.” Altaïr didn’t even bother to give him a proper reply.

Nor deny it.

“Well, at least wait until midnight before sending the plan to everyone.” Desmond reminded him, “Otherwise, Shaun’s going to find out this was your plan from the start.���

“I know. I’m not a fool, Desmond.” Altaïr said calmly before adding, “Eat a fruit or have salad after that.”

“I’ll eat an apple, alright.” Desmond rolled his eyes, “Please don’t repeat to me how bad it is for my body to keep eating instant noodles.”

Altaïr sighed, “Fine. I’ll leave you with your pathetic excuse for a meal then.”

“Thanks.” Desmond sarcastically said, watching as the screen of his phone turned off.

And he can finally eat in peace…

… soggy noodles.

Damn it.

[shyminmin]

༄𝐁𝐓𝐒 𝐗 𝐟.𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | Fantasy, Mermaid AU | ༄𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 7.2k ༄𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Panic/trauma and minor angst

Tiny pin-points of light dotted my vision as I ever so slowly came to. They stood out against the dark, roughened backdrop above, shrouding the surrounding area in hues of brilliant blues and greens.

Marveling at the delicate cosmos that seemed to bathe me in its welcoming glow, I was brought to the attention of my other awakening senses.

A soft surface below me, supporting my laid out form as well as an equally comforting sensation covering me from the top, perhaps a blanket? Was I in some sort of bed? It certainly didn’t feel like a regular mattress but at the same time I dare say was incredibly comfortable. If I were to close my eyes again I was sure it wouldn’t be too hard to fall back to sleep.

How did I end up here? Where even is here?

My eyes blinked, clearing the last remnants of my sleep induced vision.

Was it night time? Those lights above resembled stars but also didn’t. The atmosphere was also eerily quiet and strangely had an odd sense of weightlessness to it, like the effects of gravity were significantly reduced. Huh.. weird.

I subconsciously let out a breath not thinking much of it, however to my astonishment I watched as a trail of bubbles appeared from my exhale and steadily floated upwards before eventually dissolving some few feet above me. What th-

Bubbles? I blinked.

Since when do I breathe bubbles? It was safe to say that I was becoming all the more confused by the minute….and a little cautious.

I racked my brain for an explanation. The only instance where creating such an anomaly was possible was if one was…

Realization came barreling into me and my eyes grew to the size of saucers.

If one was… “Underwater..” I weakly verbalized that last word.

Like a switch being flipped my heart skyrocketed as I abruptly shot up into a seated position. Blood rushed to my head in the sudden change of position as I shivered, clutching my throat in concern. I disregarded the current environment I was placed in as my fingers grazed over three distinct grooves on each side of my neck. I felt them open and close causing me to yelp out in surprise, retracting my hand instantly.

“What, what is this!?”

I gasped, my logical brain causing me to think that I was suffocating due to the fact that I was submerged in water.

That’s when flashes of images invaded my mind. Brief memories of scenery, of phantom sensations.

I remember being carried and tossed into water and then… I was in incredible pain.

I continued to squirm and let in hesitant inhales, still weary of not being able to effectively extract oxygen from the water. I tasted the faint acidity of salt as it entered my mouth along with the water. Where I thought it would overwhelm my sinuses it did the exact opposite, rather it somehow sparked little zaps of energy to circulate through me from the top of my head to the very tips of my toe-

Oh god, I can’t feel my toes!

I immediately tried to move my legs but my brain couldn’t identify or locate the certain limbs or muscles associated with them. It was like they didn’t exist anymore. Or more so, like they had merged..

Gulping down another lot of sea water, that somehow felt ridiculously right, I directed my gaze down to my current dilemma. I had been right as my eyes took in the blanket-like material present as it covered me from the hips down. Dark greenish thatching conveniently hiding the mystery that was my questionable limbs…or lack thereof?

My heart thumped and my breath wavered as I froze, at a loss as to what to do next.

Should I lift it up and see the damage or play it safe and remain blissfully ignorant? Oh the choices.

After a few moments I willed myself to snap out of it, furrowing my brows in determination. No Y/n, be strong, you’ve gotten this far – wherever this is – you can do this. You can’t just sit here and be clueless forever!

My inner banter resolved, I shakily gripped the edge of the soft blanket, scrunching it up slightly like one would do a stress ball, because as sure as hell I needed the outlet. The faint aching that had sprouted from deep within the beds of my nails from this very action all the while going completely unnoticed amidst the mental chaos.

Come on, come on, I continued to pester myself. It’s not that hard! Just chuck the darn thing off!

But really, who could blame me for acting hesitant?

Waking up in an unknown place with no indication on whether you’re safe or in danger, on top of not knowing whether you still had functioning limbs was bound to make anyone feel uneasy. Not to mention the fact that my body had seemingly mutated to breathe underwater of all things. Life’s too boring for stuff like this to normally happen. Books or movies yes but not in regular, non-fictional reality. Dreams were another possibility but this felt way too real for that to be the case. I even did the classic pinch on the arm and low and behold an unpleasant prick of pain made itself known.

Dreams..

Up until this point, my mind had been encompassed in a – lack of better words – bubble of amnesia. That was until the subject of dreams irreverently sidled in to pop that pocket of forgetfulness, causing all my previous memories to flood in like the water around me. Past experiences fell into place now creating a clear and concise path on how I found myself in my current predicament.

Dreaming of agonizing nights on the beach…them practically persuading me to come travel to that lonely seaside town. To go there and find the truth…truth of my past, of myself…

Truth of who I really am.

“Ai child, ye be one of 'em... A mermaid."

Mermaid.

Before I knew it, the strange blanket that was previously covering me was flying upwards away from my trembling form. Its unusual trajectory produced a slight undercurrent that gently flowed up and around my face, lifting small tresses of my hair along with it where they flowed and fanned out behind me like strands in a breeze.

But these things were all good and forgotten as something far greater in uniqueness had come and none too kindly knocked them into oblivion to claim that all important first place.

This can’t be real..

No, no..

This can’t be real!?

My body sat stock still, frozen in place; in time... My blood ran cold as it filled my ears, making them ring.

For there, taking up the bottom half where my legs used to be, was a long and sleek tail.

Stemming from my hip bones and just below my navel area, rows and rows of tough yet delicate looking scales made themselves known. They overlapped one another like a finely woven tapestry where they eventually branched away to make way for a wide and sweeping fluke. When I looked a little closer at the-… my fins, I noticed that they were slightly iridescent, as reflected from the strange lighting above me.

What…h-how?..

All I seemed to be capable of doing was to gape and stare intensely and then gape some more. No, maybe that was just my inner gold-fish finally surfacing, I certainly had the physical attributes to pass for one.

My mind, which was a toss between what I can only pinpoint as a nervous wreck and a cautious trance, didn’t process one of my hands slowly reaching forward to graze over a section of my new fishy limb. To my surprise the tiny, plated bits of armor were incredibly smooth, like flat tiles of polished gemstones. But what was even more awe inspiring was their distinctive shade.

Not blue yet not quite a purple colour either, I sat there and contemplated this conundrum. No.. it was moreso somewhere in between those two prominent hues and a perfect combo of them at the same time.

I felt my eyes gloss over then with a strange form of nostalgia, a significant weight creeping up in my chest.

That colour…

It reminded me of lonely days just before or after my countless shifts at work, of staring out of my tiny bedroom window just after the sun had slumbered behind the horizon. The colour the sky would transition into, like a celestial body of water that purely existed between the cusp of day and night.

The somber yet deceptively beautiful energy I would get enveloped with every time I found myself immersed in that strangely intimate setting. Knowing that there were still sights like this, although rare and fleeting, that were worth living for regardless of the outweighing negativity, dullness and tiring aspects the grim world would constantly dominate me with…

That colour..

Within such a view, I would witness how the first remnants of stars would appear and how on certain days of the month, a delicate crescent would hang near where its sibling would have just descended; chasing him, longing for his company.

Those evenings in particular were always my favourite… In a way, they were like looking at a reflection of myself; a tiny sliver of light quietly drifting through a sea of uncertainty, purely existing but vying for something more.

Though on the flip side, it also in a way served as a desirable state of existence, a dream to strive towards. Instead that moon, rather than wandering aimlessly through a nullifying sea, would be rather at home in her element. The equilibrium of purples and blues would instead be a place where she would wholeheartedly belong basking in the utter contentment her deprived soul no longer craved.

Oh, that colour…

A droplet of warmth trailed down my cheek, almost instantly getting absorbed by the liquid around me like it had never been there to begin with. My lips trembled yet still turned upward to form a minute but genuine smile of admiration.

Of gratitude.

That was when I knew. That was when that lightbulb of revelation shined above me, as it finally granted me a name.

Indigo.

I blinked back more of that warmth that sheened my orbs.

A colour of rarity, of loneliness, but also of the purest serenity in the toughest and silent of times. A pigment of reflection, a beacon of reverence… a lighthouse of hope.

Indigo… that’s what it was called..

The one aspect that got me through the day by day repetitiveness of life where everything and anything seemed utterly worthless; futile in its entirety.

Yes, Indigo..

It was my colour… is my colour…

For if there was one thing that I could claim in this life, this universe, that was and would be solely mine and mine alone.. it would definitely have to be the etheric colour of indigo..

Now physically displayed in the form of shining scales for not just myself but for the world to see, that in itself only further solidified that notion.

For it was that distinct yet fleeting ocean between light and darkness that was and is my very essence…

I allowed one more minuscule droplet of warmth free before I reluctantly guided my gaze back upwards to finally get a full view of where I was.

From what I could gather, I was smack-dab in the center of a circular room of sorts. Its walls were formed of tough rock while its floors were made up of what I could only assume was a type of sandstone by their colour and texture. There were the strange starry lights above of course and the ‘bed’ that I was placed within that was slightly elevated off the ground by a platform of more yellowish sandstone.

My eyes caught on to places on the walls where small sections were carved out to form in-built shelves where nick-nacks of various sizes were securely set upon. Glass jars of different trinkets and coloured liquids, boxes and chests of no-doubt invaluable possessions as well as a few crystals spread amongst all the chaotic order. These tiny details made the place seem more personal and lived in.

Lived in by who?, my mind uttered to me.

Waves of ink shadowing pearly skin glided through my mind. The lingering feeling of strong, pale hands directing me towards billowing salty depths. Those brooding cerulean orbs that constantly put me in a trance.

Yoongi..

This place must be his..

My head snapped to the one remaining feature of this organically structured room that I missed. Directly in front of me was a large archway donned with a piece of curtained fabric, blocking me from seeing where it led. An entryway. The doorway to his bedroom if the thing I was lying on was anything to go by.

It would have had to have been a good solid five or so minutes that whizzed by where I just aimlessly locked eyes on that one lone doorway, not knowing if I should entertain the notion of venturing out of it to see what other anomalies await. How could a room feature be so imposing in that sense, like it was some sort of inanimate dictator of my fate.

To go through or not to go through?

I looked down at my tail then back up towards the doorway, the drapery that hung from it appearing black against the stone walls. But when I proceeded to look closer, I realized it was actually an extreme shade of dark blue; the kind of shadowy depths that a certain someone’s eyes would shift to when faced with various forms of tribulation.

Or a certain level of caution if I were to judge the current orbs staring back at me now after I went to blink once.

Gasping in surprise, I jumped in my seat, not expecting the sudden intrusion. Misjudging the strength of my jolt and forgetting about the lack of gravity that comes with being submerged in water, my body shot up about 3ft, the salty liquid only aiding my ascent.

“Eek!!”

Oh god, oh god, oh god!

Help!

I was like a cartoon character, spastically waving my arms around, trying to grab ahold of something to stop the upwards momentum of my body. Any attempt to maneuver myself in an orderly manner went right out the window. My tail, a dead weight, didn't help in the slightest. My brain was unable to translate the new body part and as a result ran up blank on potential movement altogether.

“Well if this isn’t a sight to behold. Awake and already making a fuss I see.” A calm, mocking voice rang out in contrast to my otherwise chaotic kerfuffle. A slight shiver raked through me at the words.

I craned my neck to the direction of their source but the sudden change in rotation caused me to tumble down in spirals and awkward somersaults, my tail, due to its length and mass causing the majority of my spontaneous water aerobics.

Gosh, I’m gonna be sick, the constant spinning and view change encouraging my stomach to turn sour. Blue and green swirls blurring my vision.

A huff met my ears after several more seconds, the sounds much closer than before, almost like they were right beside me.

That was soon justified when my body collided with warmth, my hands smoothing over something broad and sinewy. A different and much larger pair quickly snagged onto my forearms, evidently stopping my next body roll in its tracks. One powerful tug downwards later and I was back to where I had initially started, the familiar bedding in the center of the room supporting my seated form as my indigo tail flopped limply over its side, swaying in tune to the moving water.

Not knowing I was holding my breath all that while, I let out a much needed sigh of relief, my gills opening to release some tension in the form of excess water and bubbles.

“Not a minute has passed and you’ve already managed to find a way into my arms. He rasped. “What’s your next move, woman? Falling from the sky?”

Frowning at the comment that was dripping with sarcasm, I looked to my right, my snarky savior meeting my gaze, mouth turned up in a slight smirk.

“Yoongi..” his name left my lips before I knew it. I blinked a couple of times to get ahold of my bearings, the last of my queasiness thankfully subsiding. He just stared down at me from where he was sitting next to me, an arm’s length or so between us which I would have appreciated more if not for his ever present haughtiness.

“Hmm, you remember my name, there may be some hope for you yet.”

Before I could come up with a reply to his quip, I was drawn to a particular formation of scales much like my own swaying lazily from side to side. They were so dark that I was sure they were capable of sucking the light out of the very space around them. I noted the slither of skin they faded out from, marking their starting point at the occupant’s waist, and from there roughly connected the dots.

Another tail… His tail…

This was Yoongi’s tail..

I stared agape.

It complimented his inky locks perfectly; a solid amalgamation of corded muscle plated over by jewels of pure night. A powerful looking fluke spanned almost double the width of my own, the innermost membrane of it radiating an all too familiar deep cerulean.

Beautiful…

I immediately diverted my gaze, having just realized what I was doing. Ashamed at my thoughts. Oh gosh, was it rude to stare at a mermaid’s…erm.. mer-man’s tail? Did I just break some unspoken rule in their culture, ogling like a freak?

Gaze now focused back on my own tail, I physically blanched. In comparison, it looked so puny and almost fragile, the superiority of his own weighing me down bit by bit. He could no doubt get up to ridiculous speeds from one measly flick of that huge and sturdy fin, or even knock someone out cold if subjected to the sheer mass of his tail’s scaled base.

I drew my sights upwards, praying that I didn’t weird out the merman that had remained silent all the while.

My worried thoughts were knocked out of the way however by another devastating sight. Well, that’s to say if being at the risk of bumping your nose into someone’s extremely bare chest is reason enough to warrant such a telling.

Heat rose as my throat locked up for a moment where I almost proceeded to choke on the water trying to pass through at the time.

“Y-you have no– w-where’s your shirt?!” I nearly fell over on my side from the speed at which I turned away, the resulting whiplash from all the sudden movements I was doing catching up to me, scrambling my brain. My cheeks were all but aflame and possibly boiling the water around them.

Mortified, the image of an expansive chest was forever burned into the back of my retinas; for better or for worse, I was still very much on the fence about. Wide plains and hardened ridges of moon-bathed skin swam in front of my vision tantalizingly where they joined to flow down into a tapered waist and taut stomach. He was more toned than I had initially thought, his loose fitting clothing having done an exceptional job of deceiving onlookers on just how well rounded his physique actually was; shoulders wider than anticipated and arms gifted with a visible strength that I could vouch for from firsthand experience.

Having never been in the same vicinity of a man for more than a few minutes at a time as my jobs allowed it and from my blatant lack of socializing, a shirtless man for that matter was on a whole nother level of insanity.

“Uh yeah.. We are underwater. Clothing isn’t really a thing – or needed for our kind. Well… for males at least.”

I remained silent and rigid, not daring to look back at the ungodly scene that loomed behind me.

An appalled grunt resounded from the man, a resultant of my body language that screamed discomfort. “Flustered over a little skin of all things?” He probed on. At that, I felt him scoot closer to me, making me in turn shrink in on myself like some petrified turtle.

“I am n-not!” My entire face by this stage felt like the inside of a volcano. I swear I could make out the bubbling of steam floating around my head.

“You’re just a little.. I-I’m just not used to being up so close.. a-and personal like t-this that I’m forced to not look at anything else!”

An amused scoff rang out, he was an inch or so from my back; I could tell by the wave of intensity that errantly washed over me, lifting the hairs on my neck.

“Oh really, I would never have guessed.”

“C-can you put your chest away or s-something?” I shot out, only then noting how weird that sentence actually sounded and cringed. I never thought claustrophobia from the presence of one’s…uh…lack of clothing was a thing.

“No can do, I'm afraid. You’ve just gotta start getting accustomed to the new dress code we’ve got going for us down here.”

You mean a lack of one. I let a low grumble slip past at that inevitability.

“Or perhaps,” his head craned beside my ear, making me flinch, “You’re just afraid you might secretly enjoy that fact?”

If my head was presumably a volcano, then that last remark just caused its long awaited eruption. A mix of flustered irritation all but burst and overflowed out of me as I gritted my teeth, trying to stave off the influx of emotions. From there, I proceeded to clench my hands into fists.

Big mistake.

In the next moment, an uncanny bout of pain rippled from below the beds of my fingers as my palms almost got sliced open.

My nails had all but extended into two inch claws!

As any normal person would do in this situation I let out an ear splitting shriek. Who knew this would spook me out more than finding out that I had a whole ass fish tail instead of legs, or be on par to the more mundane approach of simply viewing a man’s chest. Y/n, you really need to get your priorities straight in terms of the fright department. Pointy nails, really?

Holding my hands out away from the rest of my body, I went to shake them out, hoping that the action would somehow get rid of these needle-like atrocities.

Get ‘em off, these things! Get them away from me!

I could feel the eye roll from behind and not too long after a ripple of water washed over me. Those same large hands that had righted me before were now swallowing my own up in their tight grasp. He had swiftly maneuvered himself in front of me as I jolted at the contact, trying to yank them out of his hold but he was stubborn and held them strong.

“Always so jumpy.” He mumbled. “Relax, they’re just your–”

“Wha- What’s going on? What’s wrong with them!?

“First–” he cut in almost straight after with slight irritation, “You really need to calm down, something you seem to find particularly difficult!”

You try handling something like this for the first time and see if you fare any better. I really wanted to give him a piece of my mind in retaliation to his callousness. Jerk.

If the merman noticed my inner spite, he didn’t let on. Instead, he resorted to holding my hands still and in place, constantly squeezing them to stop their shaking. If I wasn’t already worked up enough with dealing with daggers in place of nails then the sudden hand holding would most certainly reign supreme in turning me into complete hysterics. No actually, let’s be real here, they were definitely working in tandem to get me over the edge.

“Do I really need to tell you to breathe again?” Yoongi uttered a little softer but still maintained that level of firmness. He was referring back to all the times he implored me to do so during that harrowing transformation of human to mermaid, however long ago that was now. “Work with me here, woman,” another squeeze of my hands followed as he waited for me to act on his request.

I shakily huffed as I closed my eyes, ridding my view of my monstrous nails. Working with the slits along my neck, I started a steady pace of one deep breath in and out. Such a process seemed to work, my breathing growing more calm and steady as the minutes ticked by. The awe factor that came about when utilizing my gills worked wonders in transforming my nerves into more bearable spouts of intrigue instead.

As my panic continued to fizzle out, I was soon guided out of my reverie by another firm squeeze from a set of pale hands. My eyes opened in an automatic reply and the bewitching blue of his own was the final nail that sealed my anxieties away – for now, at least.

He blinked, garnering my change in temperament and cleared his throat.

Guiding my gaze back down to the dilemma at hand (quite literally) he stroked the side of one of my ‘dagger nails’ with his thumb, my heart unknowingly skipping a beat. “These claws you’ve got here are what we call piercers. All merfolk have them, they’re really nothing special.”

I watched on as he allowed his right hand to part from the cocoon he had formed around my own and held it up before us, fingers splayed out in a backwards high five. The veins on the top of his palm pulsed while I barely made out the slightest twitch of his fingertips. Half a second later, five lengthy nails shot up like pointed spears. They were identical to my own, although maybe a little longer if I wanted to be really particular. He turned his hand so I could view them from multiple angles.

“They’re able to extend as you see here and…” A sound similar to a sword getting sheathed met my ears as they all too swiftly shrunk back down like they were never there to begin with, points now blunted at the ends; deceptively human. “…retract.”

I blinked, mind stark with disbelief.

“They’re used in both offensive and defensive measures, like most land predators you’ve no doubt seen somewhere in your time up there. They’re foremost a means of survival. The ocean isn’t like the surface; it can be tough and grueling to even the best of us. In the worst of cases, a mer’s piercers can be the only thing hovering between you and your end.” He stared between my eyes, weighing my reaction and continued when I appeared fine. “Anything from gripping onto surfaces if a current is too strong, tearing through netting to escape or ripping or even piercing into things for sustenance. All these things and more are applicable for an easier time down here in the deep.”

I dumbly nodded along to his explanation, trying to take in as much information as possible because I had a feeling that he wasn’t one who had the patience to repeat himself. Tuning into this ‘Mermaids 101’ lesson was imperative for my hopeful assimilation into this new lifestyle.

“They fully form when a mer reaches maturity. There’s a short transitional period beforehand where you can partially extend them, a sort of time of adjustment to get a grasp on how to work them fully.” He let out a tired sigh then, “That would’ve been a helpful time for you but I guess we can’t have everything come easy to us now can we.”

“T-that’s all fine and well but…uh…h-how do I make them shrink back to normal?” I spoke up, still eyeing my so-called piercers with discomfort. I certainly didn’t want to run the risk of taking somebody's eye out with these literal knives poking out. They looked like something straight out of a horror movie and were ever a safety hazard in my book.

Another strained sigh broke out from Yoongi's lips.

“Adrenaline can set them off; with your total lack of experience, I’d gather that even just tensing your hands can lead to the same conclusion, whether you’re in active danger or not.”

Great. My shoulders slumped at the realization. So even just exercising a joint or muscle wrong could lead to a good old ‘stabby’ surprise. How was I ever going to get a handle on these without accidentally impaling myself in the process?

I looked at Yoongi's one hand still wrapped around both of mine, my piercers poking out of the top like a bunch of upright harpoons. He made it look so easy. So mindless when performing the action of retracting his own.

“Look, for starters, your best bet is to completely relax your hands, detense everything that warrants any level of strain or effort. Think you can do that?”

Clearing my throat, I looked his way but was unable to meet his eyes once more, “I–I’ll try..”

Finally granting my hands freedom from his hold, he allowed them to float in between us as I willed them to go completely limp. Even in this state of forced calmness, I was still very much afraid of putting them any closer to my body where my vital organs were.

“Picture them – or rather – try to feel them getting shorter, like they’re getting sucked back into your fingers, merging with them, if you will.”

Taking his explanation into account and trying to work with what he said, I stared my piercers down like they were some unbecoming menace that needed to be put back in their place.

I stared.

And stared.

And stared..

My eyes scrunched up in concentration to the point where they were starting to strain and cause an oncoming headache. No doubt the scene I was putting up looked rather unflattering to the man who remained in front of me observing my amateur efforts.

At one stage I may have seen one or two of the spear-like nails slip down a few rungs but that may have just been my out-of-whack imagination playing tricks on me.

He must think I’m so pathetic. I mentally versed, after a good millennia of time had passed and my piercers were still very much present, standing upright and tauntingly proud.

My chest tightened. This was ridiculous. I couldn’t even control my own body properly. It was like I was a newborn baby all over again.

I gave them another long, hard stare, trying and failing to bend the menacing blades to my will. Their imaginary tongues would most definitely be sticking out at me right about now, making fun of my loss.

Urk! Nothing’s happening!

“Stop.” Yoongi’s voice cut through the tension as if he could hear my mental battle. “You’re trying too hard.”

“It’s hopeless.” I let out a struggling sigh. “They won’t…I-I can’t–”

“Yes you can.”

I went to deny his claim with another despondent retort but he spoke up again.

“Even I don’t expect you to be a natural at this right at the get go. I may be forward in how I deal with the majority of my shit but even I have to admit, I’m not that much of a hard ass.”

Hmm, that remains to be seen. I wanted to say, but decided to give him the benefit of the doubt; just this once.

“Now tell those defeating thoughts I see gnawing away at you to get a life, relax, and start again. And try to really feel them this time. If you at least do that then your instincts should kick in and the rest more or less should come smoothly.”

A trail of bubbles left my mouth in discouragement as I tried to focus on the piercers themselves; as Yoongi emphasized, on how they felt.

I felt how surprisingly lightweight they were as opposed to their almost stone-like hardness, how they sprouted seamlessly from the very base of my nail beds, them being the solid unbreakable roots that supported the promise and outcome of flowering thorns. The blood that pulsed evenly up through my fingers and underneath each bed, the life giving water that sustained those uncanny roots.

I loosened my shoulders and breathed, welcoming in the water swaddled oxygen and followed the way it sent tingles right down to my bones. My joints and limbs swarmed with a sense of relief and utter vitality, thanking me for rewarding them with the sunlight-like sustenance they needed in order to thrive. I sailed along those feelings and sensations of rightness down to the start of those same roots.

They vibrated.

Relax.

They aren’t bad, they’re not to be feared or anything to be repulsed at; no, they’re an extension of yourself. They are you and you are them. You are innately connected.

More vibrations rippled along my neighboring fingers; a harmony conjoining to form one synchronized note.

You are at their mercy and in turn, they are also equally under your command. You each hold a mutual bond that at its core is unanimous in principle.

Breathe, relax, feel..

They are you and you are them..

My eyes suddenly shot open at a strange feeling of finality. I didn’t dare look down to see if my mental tinkering had worked in my favor or had made things abundantly worse to the point where I would be in desperate need of a manicure.

“Are they..?” I couldn’t get the rest of my question past my lips. Dread and hope fought a deathly battle in my throat, clogging it in the process. Yoongi, still able to grasp the rest of what I was going to ask, voiced his reply.

“See for yourself.”

Not giving me much of a choice, I resigned to my fate and glimpsed down at my piercers. All the while I cursed the merman for not telling me outright if they were back to normal or still in their monstrous state of existence.

No, not monstrous, I quickly corrected myself. No, they were just… different. I won’t lie and say that I was completely in acceptance of them, even after that weird symbiotic experience I just felt and envisioned. Like any new development in someone’s life, they were going to take some extensive warming up to.

So it was at that expense then that I couldn’t help but curl my lips up into a triumphant smile, shaking with joy and relief. Because before me once more was my all too normal and familiar ‘human’ nails, in all their blunt and ordinary simplicity.

My gaze rounded up to Yoongi’s at this, shyness temporarily pushed to the back by a dominant spout of victory.

“I-I did it!” I was practically bouncing in my seat like a little kid.

The faintest telling of satisfaction was delicately painted on the merman’s usually hardened face. He calmly looked at me and grunted a sound of approval. His annoyance seemingly put to the back burner while he allowed me this moment of glory; tolerating it silently. If that was all the complimenting and congratulations I was going to get from him then I’d gladly accept it.

From what I had gathered, this momentary display of positivity he portrayed was something of a rarity for Yoongi. His expressions always seemed to range from one of three visible states: stark emotionlessness, emotionless stoicism, or, if you wanted to get really fancy, a brooding anger or annoyance that was often riddled with blunt sarcasm every necessary chance it got.

Yes, a splendid selection indeed.

Not to say my range of emotions were any better. Far from it. Who would want to be around someone who couldn’t meet you in the eye more than half the time and when they could miraculously get a glimpse of your face was then subjected to an uncomfortable front of nervous awkwardness.

Yeah, I’d take casual stoicness over extreme shyness any day.

I willed my nails out of their bedded sheathes once more, inexperience still getting the best of me as they stiffly shot out, a dull thrum of pain ever present. Getting them back down though was definitely the more taxing part. More often than not they kept shooting back outwards when they had just managed to blunt back down.

“Are they always meant to..erm.. h-hurt.. w-when they extend?” I asked, taking note of yet another wavelet of burning coursing through my nail beds.

“The first few times, yes. They’re like any other muscle really. The more you use them the less effort your body has to expend over time.”

Still scared and awed all at the same time, I was slowly getting lost among the process of my piercers, trying to get as much of a feel as I could to not warrant a later accident. Though I knew that worrying fact was inevitable.

Sheath, unsheathe. In, out.

Just when I was about to release them again for another glimpse that would leave me gobsmacked, I was abruptly stopped.

“Ok, ok, cut it out, you’ll give yourself a cramp if you keep playing with them like that.”

I flinched and guiltily lowered my hands to rest in my scaled lap, a ‘sorry’ taking up residence on the tip of my tongue out of instinct but I managed to swallow it down.

He sighed then, clearly seeing my state of submissiveness like I had just been slapped.

A moment of tense silence floated around us. The merman ever so slightly looming closer to my bent form when I failed to move, his night-clad scales only adding to the growing shadow he cast upon me; a blanket of darkness.

“You can look at me, you know. You don’t have to be so shy and defensive all the time.”

I unconsciously shivered.

I would if I could…

My life beforehand hadn’t exactly been a safe haven for allowing my trust and confidence to run free.

If anything, it has only influenced me to close myself up to the point where my worries and insecurities became my only safeguard against potential disappointment and pain in the long run.

Heh, what good that did when I decided to take a risk for once and hop onto that bus that day, catalyzing all this mess.

Gills opening and closing, I craned my neck upwards, once more catching the speckled display of lighting that decorated the rocky ceiling above us, just like starlight.

“T-Those lights up there…w-what are they?”

My obvious deflection of his accusation surprisingly didn’t seem to anger him, as he let go of inquiring further. He shifted to my side and joined me in gazing up at the glittering amassment, not nearly as enamored as I was at the sight and replied after a few beats.

“Stellaris algae.”

My intrigue appeared to prompt him further in an explanation, however reluctant he was from his almost monotonous words. “It grows in dotted clumps and glows – well as the name suggests – like stars…. What was it that humans like to call it? You know, for how it lights up?” He paused, searching for the term. “Bioluminescent?”

I hummed my understanding and couldn’t help but voice my own simple thoughts. “It’s beautiful…”

I felt his gaze at my side then but remained viewing the speckles of green and blue, pushing down my self-consciousness.

“I suppose it is.” He let out in barely a whisper and I went to tuck a floating strand of hair that breached my line of sight behind my ear.

A steady wave of tingling energy reverberated between us as I hung onto my composure, the bioluminescence of the star-like algae helping me slightly as it gently lulled me into a state of reverence as I basked under its glow.

How can anyone get sick of such a sight? Yoongi must be blind…

Said merman dropped beside me, severing my musings and I ever so slightly inched away.

“While I hate to cut your stargazing short, the real stars will be gracing us not before too long. I think we’ve stalled with things long enough.”

Really, it’s almost night? I blinked.

“Though I can’t really fault you for not knowing I guess. You can’t really tell it, what with being as deep down in my den as we are.”

Talk of time curiously drew me back to the subject of my impromptu nap.

“H-How long was I out?”

He raked his hand through his locks and I tried to not focus on how the motion made my insides…feel things.

“Long enough for Helios to pass over twice.” He answered, taking note of my not so subtle increase of space I made between us and raised a brow.

Stumped, I gave him a look of confusion.

He snarked. “Right, I forgot I have to dumb my words down for you.” Frowning, I just managed to reign in my nails that had accidentally shot out halfway in response.

“Easy,” he griped, when he saw my claws, almost amused. “You’ve been asleep for two days, give or take.”

I actually did cough on the water this time.

“Two… two d-days!?”

He huffed nonchalantly at my shock.

“Relax, you weren’t dying or anything if that’s what you’re so worried about. It’s normal to take that long for your first time. Or I guess in your case, your first time after so many years? Either way, I’ve seen others take longer, so you're fine.”

I remained silent at his rather rocky attempt at reassurance, questioning its validity.

“Now, before you feel tempted to go on another one of your panic sprees, how about we see if you can stomach some food. After such an ordeal, I’m surprised you can still remain upright.”

Now that he mentioned it, I was feeling a bit heavy with fatigue, like I hadn’t bothered to move in centuries.

“That would be good…t-thanks.”

“Good cause, while your piercers are one less thing to worry about, you still have one other important thing to deal with. Seeing as it’s you we’re talking about, you’re gonna need all the strength you can get.”

I gave him yet another look of confusion and he groused at my lack of awareness.

“You still have that to contend with,” he stated, pointing down at my lap where my tail rested.

The tail which remained to feel like an immovable log of petrified wood.

I let out a gulp and ruminated as I often did in times of uncertainty and caution, which was more often than I would’ve liked in my life before and up to this.

Right. How hard can that be? I blanched, trying to let the indigo of my scales soothe me.

Knowing me, not easy enough..

| 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 | ༄⋆

[ff7-has-taken-me-over]

Ghost has a cowboy hat for whatever reason and take it off when he’s about to go do something. He sticks it on Soap’s head saying ‘look after it for me’

Soap goes bright red because he knows the hat rule but he has no idea if Ghost knows the hat rule. Alejandro also knows the hat rule apparently, patting him on the shoulder while laughing, ‘congratulations hermano. When can we expect the wedding?’

Soap shoves at his shoulder, pulling the brim of the hat over his eyes. It’s hard to deny that he absolutely adores the prospect of belonging to Ghost, and for the man to express it like that out in public makes his heart trip on itself.

But there’s also the chance that Ghost has no idea what it means and it was all just an innocent interaction. The giddiness dies down a little with that realisation, hope dwindling as he readjusts the hat so it sits out of his eyes.

‘He probably doesn’t even know about that hat thing, no point in getting the hopes up.’ Alejandro hummed, eyes flickering behind him for a moment before he was setting a hand on the sergeants thigh.

‘Well in that case. Why don’t you come home with me tonight? We can have some fun.’ Soap opened his mouth, whether to accept or deny he wasn’t too sure, a sudden hand around his waist cutting off his response.

‘Didn’t you see the claim cowboy? Surely you know the rules.’ Johnny couldn’t help the way he straightened when that familiar voice spoke so closely to his ear, shivers running down his spine at the baritone of it.

So maybe Ghost did know the hat rule and Johnny wasn’t getting his hopes up for nothing. It was enough to make his hope skyrocket again, heart skipping beats as the hand around his waist slipped under his shirt.

‘Sorry Ghost. I was making sure you actually meant it.’ Said man scoffs, other hand swatting at Alejandro’s and replacing it, squeezing Soap’s thigh before running along its length.

The sergeant had to use every fibre of his being to keep from letting out some embarrassing noises, head falling back on Ghost’s shoulder and knocking the hat back into his eyes.

The low laughs of the two in front and behind him do nothing to deter him from relishing in the touches. He’s been waiting too long to care much about anything really.

[sketchfanda]

Chestnut Stud Across the Multiverse: Feeling Blue

Capsule Corp was nothing if not an ambitious company when it came to radical ideas and innovations. Case in point it’s new residential space station,made in conjunction and collaboration with the galactic patrol to function as a sort of intergalactic hotel resort. Because if people were going to ascent and spread themselves out through the stars, it didn’t hurt to consider a possible tourist industry after all. But if you were to ask Krillin, it was pretty much going to be a glorified love motel, why else would Bulma have “volunteered” him for this gig? And of course 18 was all for it, giving her persomal seal of approval when she saw a picture of the partner he’d have joining him in inspecting and testing the quality control of the rooms. So of course his luck naturally somehow wound up in the room that would function as the honeymoon suite for newly weds. The window displaying a grand view of the cosmos and the earth outside, giving the interior an ethereal glow. Sitting on the edge of the bed, having somehow been convinced to strip down to his boxers as he faced his inspection partner, struggling to look anywhere but at her, which was challenging enough given her current state of nudity! Liara T’Soni, an Asari, who were all female species capable to getting impregnated with men and women of any species capcanle of sexual intercourse and reproduction, and designed galactic patrol rep for her people did som sensual yoga stretches, laying it all bare before him literally and figuratively, suffice to say,she was a sensual work of erotic art.

Krillin:*blushing,a grimaced expression on his face as he held a pillow over his boxers clad crotch for obvious reasons. He wouldn’t put it past Bulma and 18 to be watching this via some hidden cameras like the kinky voyeurs they were.* “Uhm You know if you’re even the slightest bit unsure,we don’t have to do this…”

Liara:*a simple,sensual smile,not a hint of shame on her face or in her body language as she finished her nude warm up. Looking at him with those soft blue eyes as she brought her toned ocean blue self closer to him,sitting beside him on the bed s she gently pried the pillo out of his hands. Throwing it aside as she grasped his erection,stroking it through his boxers,turning his face with her free hand to make h him look at her.*”There is no uncertainty or second thoughts about it. After all,what we are about to do is what this rom was designed and intended for and we need make it fulfill its purpose. Should I wind up coming out of this eith a child from you, I hardly see how that’d be a problem. If anything you’d be an ideal parent….now enough talk…”*The moment she left that sentence unfinished,she pressed her lips to his,running him with a sudden kiss. Her tongue invading his mouth to probe away and explore it, as she pressed her body further against his,causing him to fall and lie back on the bed.*

The sudden liplock caught Krillin off guard, on top of how eager since they met thst Liara had been, if here and now had been the perfect excuse for her to get erotically intimate with him. Finding himself responding to her kiss as they wrapped their arms around each other,hers massaging his shoulders and his face,caressing the back of his smooth shaved head. His own feeling her up all over, feeling the firmness of her blue tilts,giving her bubbly booty a squeeze. Making her shudder as she relished him giving into his impulsive desire and sexual instincts as she used her biotic powers to enhance and establish the sensuality between them. Forming a tantric bond that made the growing passion between them skyrocket as her hands moved and ran down along his compact Herculean body, grasping the waistband of his boxers. With a swift tug,they were gone as she gasped and felt his length and girth sprung forth to breathe the open air. Her ass jiggling as she looked over her shoulder at the immense cock that now sandwiched itself between her boot cheeks and her azure slit, the latter gushing with nectar as she jumped and ground against that shaft. Grasping his face in her hands as they locked eyes,giggling to see his face seem to feel like he was having an out of body experience.

Liara:”my oh my,Mr.Krillin,if this were Thessia,many maidens wouldn’t just want You for their first time,they’d want their babies from you for sure. I for one,am looking forward to embracing eternity with you…”*she spoke sensually and enigmatically, as she resumed her make out,causing Krillin to feel like he had fallen into a state of meditation, as if achieving a state of tantric nirvana, about to be everywhere yet nowhere all at once. Liara’s natural asari biotic traits ensuring she and Krillin wouldn’t just make love in bidy,but in mind and soul as well.*

Krillin couldn’t muster the willpower to resist his urges anymore, as liara’s sensual skill and biotic energies worked their wonders on him. Hands grasping and squeezing her blue booty,making those twin meat buns jiggle as she ground and pumped her azure slit against the length and girth of his cock. Lips pressed snd locked with his in a sloppy,tongue fuelled dance as they explored one another’s mouths before the Asari GP agent widened her eyes with shock and awe as Krillin suddenly penetrated her azure with his shaft. The sudden ambush as she felt her womb pierced causing her to feel an orgasm rock her very being. Krillin shuddering as he found he was feeling it, such was the nature of biotics. Asari being naturally born so and being able to mate and reproduce with women meant thst their biotic powers allowed them to establish a psychic connection,feeling one another’s pleasure and sharing orgasms together. For men of course it was a surreal experience given they didn’t have the same parts biologically speaking but they never complained. For Krillin especially,he couldn’t help but ride the sudden wave of momentum from Liara’s biotic orgasm,as he began to pump and thrust away, the Asari bombshell feeling her world,if not her whole universe get rocked. Riding him cowgirl style as her blue bitty jiggled against those mighty balls of of his,gasping as he reached up to squeeze her jiggling blue tits.

Liara:”aaahn,by the maker! You’re amazing Mr.Krillin!! Don’t stop!, yes,this is it…let us continue! Feel the embrace of eternity with me!”* the blue bombshell howled,her dirty talk restrained and lacking obscenities,yet her tone made it clewr how aroused she was,as she placed her hands atop Krillin’s on her tits,caressing them as she confused to bounce and ride on his shaft. Her azure’s inner muscle walls kissing and massaging his jackhammering length and girth as Krillin sat up to kiss her once more. Gladly returning the passionate liplock as their loins continued their ancient primal dance of man and woman, Krillin experiencing first hand why Asari deemed the act of sexual intimacy as embracing eternity.*

indeed the earth man and the Asari beauty embraced eternity as they made sure the honeymoon suite of Bulma’s space station hotel functioned for its intended purpose. The compact Adonis flexing his muscles he explored and enjoyed the familiar yet alien form of liara’s blue bombshell body. The expressions sexual bliss and ecstasy in ehr lovelt fsce,her eyes glowing with pink hesrts as she erotically sang his praises. The feel and sight of her bouncing blue tits and ass a view to behold as they shifted through positions and formed a bond between them in the name of erotic diplomacy. The Asari hottie unable to keep count of her orgasms but relishing each and every moment he had his. The taste of his seed as it flooded her mouth and dazzled her taste buds to the rush of it flooding her ass and her womb,a thrilling sensation. One she didn’t want to cease in the slightest as she relished each and every single second her nerves flooded with the rush of,pleasure surging to her brain.

Liara:”Aahn don’t stop,don’t stop!!”*currently held up against a wall,arms and legs draped around the short king’s compact powerful shoulders,her blue skin glistening as he pumoed and hammered away into her sloppy wet azure. The length and girth not just hitting her G spot but the entire alphabet. The room illuminated by the celestial lights of the cosmos is outside, the stars and the moon giving their primal mating an ethereal atmosphere.*

Certainly eternity was no doubt how long Liara wanted this to last, as she became erotically,intimately acquainted with Krillin’s virility and stamina. His sexual prowess putting any prior male lovers to shame as they performed a veritable kama sutra of pornography. The honeymoon suite’s walls echoing with their moans as she was bent and pressing up against the window. Her blue tits rubbing against the glass as he held one of her leg up in a 90 degree split,plowing away into her azure as their mixed juices rained down into a growing puddle on the floor. To throwing the bedsheets into disarray as she was taken from behind doggy style, her blue booty jiggling and her her tits swaying as his heavy balls swung with the momentum,smacking her clit as Krillin found his mInd and bidy entering the Non state. Tantric energy filling his being,focusing on bringing Liara to pleasure over over,making love not simply to her body,but her very heart,mind and soul. The two becoming lost in their own little world,as th secret hidden cameras caught each and every last single second.

Back on earth,in th persomal quarters of Bulma Briefs,she and and 18 sat in silky bathrobes,clinking their glasses of champagne as the 70 inch plasma screen tv played the transmission from the honeymoon suite. The Pervy genius and the bombshell cyborg knew arranging for Liara and Krillin to get some quality time would b good,but this was erotic gold,platinum even. They knew the Asari was more than eager and willing but to think she had such skill and experience to be able to handle Krillin like this? As they took a glance to the Manila folder envelope,a few pictures spilling out of numerous exotic alien women visible as the lair of fellow Krillin stud club members (the founder and president,who was which was debatable) knew she wouldn’t be the first or last alien hottie to get the Krillin experience. The universe would see a future filled with chestnut children and it would be glorious.

[thedeal-if]

how do the ros kiss?

🥺(😏)

+ where they like to kiss

Dante kisses like he’s burning and he wants to spread the flame. A mess of teeth and hands and slow drags of lips against lips, a fever of neediness. Like tomorrow won't come and now has a sliver of possibility of lasting forever. Dante has no preference over where's or how's as long as attraction consumes the moment—though, in a very unconscious way, he seems fixated on the curve where shoulder meets neck.

Lilith kisses with glossy lips. It's a deliberate and slow game for her— Lilith kisses with measured expertise, a push and pull between her and her partner, a declaration of passion and desire that transcends the physical barrier of lips and tongues. She especially enjoys pressing kisses against inner wrists, feeling the pulse skyrocket, and goosebumps overtake the flesh due to the temperature change. Lilith is adaptable, she likes to be the one giving pleasure and not the other way around. She loves affection in any way that her partner desires to give it.

Josh kisses like it's a dream he refuses to wake up from, like he wants to remember each moment in perfect detail. It's a dance that's a long time coming, full of romantic ideas of perfect butterflies, sunsets, and butterfly-filled stomachs. Waking up from that dream is just as strangely refreshing. A full-of-warmth wonder. Flawed in its nature— short clicking of teeth and pauses to laugh awkwardly. Josh feels just as awkward when he kisses his partner's forehead just the way he likes to, though that quickly melts to bliss if they return the gesture against his neck.

Villanelle kisses like it's an old, familiar routine, like she's done it a million times and expects to do it a million more. It's a thing she doesn't want to rush—she doesn't want it to end—Villanelle kisses like she's spellbound, savoring the moment, sampling the tastes of your mouth, nibbling your lips playfully. She loves giving and receiving kisses on the cheek, like wrapping a ribbon around an already beautiful gift.

Victor kisses like he's indulging in a forbidden and unexpected fruit, like it's mind-consuming and all-consuming, like he can't ever get enough. Greedy and scorching in nature, Victor kisses like it's a last chance and means to make it worth his time. Turning kissing into normalcy would reveal to Victor's partners that he secretly enjoys turning everything into a routine, that he always kisses their temple— and down— their jaw— down— and the side of their neck.

Aliyah kisses like it's a war. If she doesn't feel too emotionally attracted to that person, at least. It's more an act of domination than one of lust and affection, more a means to establish her power over someone. In the rare situation that Aliyah does manage to survive a breach in her walls, kissing stops being a matter of winning and losing, only to turn into a personal thing. Aliyah's kisses turn lazy, a press of lips, chastely sharing warmth. If she were to be asked, she would deny having a favorite spot to be kissed—only to grin and boldly guide her partner's lips to her earlobe. In return, she enjoys placing absentminded kisses on the top of her partner's head.

Nathan kisses like it's a cataclysm, like it's been building up—edging—for ages. A clock's ticking and ticking gets faster until the bomb blows up and tears everything apart. Nathan likes biting, being scratched, pulling on hair, and leaving hickeys to tease in the aftermath. There's no point to passion without the hints of pain— there's no point to desire if it doesn't hurt. Nathan kisses with arrogance, the knowledge that he's good and that his partner can't get enough. He especially likes kissing his partner's inner thigh— but settles on kissing their hands and cheeks when in public. In return, he wants kisses—being bitten—on the neck and shoulders.

Eden kisses like it's an afterthought, casually and slowly. It's sudden, unexpected most of the time, pupils flickering down and lips meeting. Eden kisses her partners when she's feeling bored, because lips against hers are exactly the excitement she needs, the slight spice to liven up her dull day, all of it melting in her tongue like her melting common reason. She particularly likes the brief moments of tenderness afterward, foreheads pressed together, breathing in the tranquility. When it comes to being kissed, she wants them on the inside of her palm and on her temples.

[ruinouss]

@vendettavalor said:

“You have my attention - now do something with it.

"No...now do somethin'," she sputtered out in complete disbelief. Already her blood pressure began to skyrocket. His audacity to roll into her home like he owned it and devour anything and everything in sight while disregarding her was enough to send her over the edge. And as much as she despised admitting it, his sudden recognition left her at a loss for words. She continued to repeat his statement like a broken record as her mind desperately tried to find any other words before finally giving up. Her fists balled at her sides, nails digging into the soft flesh and threatening to break the skin.

"Fuck you. This is MY home and I don't remember invitin' ya in! What gives ya the right t' just come an' go as ya please? I thought ya had all these big plans now that you're free!?" Her eyes rolled in large dramatic arcs.

Of course, this was all her fault. She had been stupid enough to read from the book and unintentionally summon the demon. The fact she correctly pronounced the incantations correctly was a miracle all its own. Actually, it was her punishment for fucking around despite knowing the dangers.

"The least ya can do is pay me back in some way. I can't afford t' feed your insatiable ass. You ate my liquor cabinet," she reminded him, hands uncurling long enough to grip her hips. What made matters worse was just how much taller he was than her. More times than not she felt like a child, her neck aching from having to crane back to stare up at him but getting something to stand on was far too humiliating.

[liminalpebble]

Eddie's Education, Chapter 28

Masterlist link

Minors DNI

Chapter 28

Eddie, Robin, Steve, and Dustin rose slowly to unsteady feet, already feeling the bruises beginning to form from Vecna's repelling attacks. Their throats were hoarse after screaming for Leia to stop crossing the threshold, but to no avail.

Eddie could barely stumble forward as the earth seemed to spin beneath his unsteady feet, nevertheless, he heaved himself up and strode on with a dark glare of vengeance written across his face. Dustin intercepted him with a firm hand to his chest though Eddie just winced and kept pushing toward the vermilion gate.

“Eddie...Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. Okay...not ideal, but listen...LISTEN. We have a contingency plan. We have to follow it. Alright?”

Eddie heaved and shuddered silently, furious and wild-eyed as a bull. That glowing portal was his red flag and its reflection smoldered in his eyes. After a long moment of Dustin's white-knuckled grip on his shoulders, he relented with a pained and furious scream that made every one of them jump.

Nancy spoke, quiet and measured, “We have to wait, just a little while longer. Mike has to tell us when El makes contact. She can tell us if Vecna is distracted or not. We have to be sure before we go in to drag him out.”

Of course, they all had been over this dozens of times by now, but in the heat of the moment, with threadbare nerves, they all needed Nancy's cool voice of reason to remind them.

-----

Let's go somewhere more comfortable, shall we?

The deep raspy voice rippled through the psychic plane like undulations over black water. Leia's awareness of Vecna's rough physical clutch slithered away as she found herself in a black empty void, alone and suspended in the mental ether.

The darkness began to shiver and take shape, into the grimy, smoky shadows and uneven angles of The Hideout. It was empty. No patrons, no bartenders. Just the dingy floor creaking with her cautious steps, and the stark beams of stage lights making columns of the smoke. On-stage, a single white-clad figure stepped out from the deep shadow, into the spotlight. His blond hair made a halo as he lowered himself off the platform and stalked towards her, penetrating eyes never averting, like a bird of prey; hyperfocused. The glare of him hurt her eyes.

Henry put his hands in his pockets and cocked his head in a suddenly casual gesture as he said, “You know, Leia. I really miss this form in the waking world. I was rather handsome, wasn't I?”

Leia only grimaced in his blinding glare and looked away. She had just been thinking that he glowed like an angel. Of course it's a deliberate image...megalomaniac, she thought, and he heard her.

He smiled. “Hrmm...you know, Lucifer was supposedly the most beautiful of the angels, before he was cast into hell. All for daring to question God...all for wanting free will.”

He bent over, his shadow eclipsing the soft round moon of her face. “Sound familiar?”

Finally, she spoke. “You make it sound so innocent and righteous and poetic, Henry. You murdered people...children...in cold blood. Your own family, other victims just like you...”

“Not like me!” he suddenly bellowed and Leia felt her pulse skyrocket at the sudden fury in his voice. A vein rose beneath his fair skin and his lips twitched around gritted teeth. He was suddenly an animal again; a hungry one. Then he softened abruptly, cradling her cheek in his cold, bony hand, forcing her to meet his eyes. “And soon...not like us. It's only a matter of time.” As if on cue, she heard the warped chiming of a grandfather clock, echoing incongruously through the rundown hall. He paused then added, “Besides, who said I was only talking about me?”

----

Eleven stood back. She had watched the scene unveil itself from the cloak of darkness at the edges. She listened carefully gathering her strength before striding forward and saying in a loud clear voice, “Number 1! We have unfinished business, and you're out of time.”

El brought her hand forward sending an invisible shockwave of force against his skull, forcing him to stumble back. El gestured to Leia to say back, and she obeyed, scuttling behind the psychic prodigy, allowing her to do battle with her greatest adversary.

As Eleven fought, she distantly registered the crackling of a walkie-talkie as Mike hissed out, “Guys, she's in! El's inside.”

------

The ragtag band jerked their heads up in a flurry of renewed energy as the set crackled into life and Mike's message fizzled out to them on the night air.

Nancy ran up to take the lead. She surveyed them as calmly as a battlefield general. She ordered, “Steve, Eddie, we go first.”

As she stepped toward the tear, she placed her shotgun nearby on the grass and handed off molotov cocktails and lighters to Dustin and Robin; blades for Eddie, Steve, and herself.

She nodded and pointed forward and her soldiers obeyed.

------

Between blows from Eleven and his own telekinetic blasts, Vecna felt the pull of the others entering the upside down. The message vibrated through the spiderweb of his physical lair and into his mind. He chuckled, the sound deepening with a menacing bass note as he returned to his monstrous countenance. He flicked his hand, dragging El up and suspending her in the air, splayed like a pinned insect. He held her there, and came close to her face, while his gigantic clawed hand snaked its way around her throat.

“Oh Eleven, I can feel your friends coming to play. You couldn't possibly think I would be surprised? I know what you're planning...and it's no better than the plans you had as children.”

Eleven panted for breath as blood trickled from her nose with the psychic exertion. Mike watched it nervously from his post beside her. Her sleeping eyes twitched and the red stream fanned out into the saline water.

She twitched in Vecna's grip, finally blasting herself free in a great burst of energy.

“Yeah? Well, I've gotten stronger and I have strong friends. You're weak and your alone, Henry.”

She swiped her arm, sending the monster hurtling against the rickety floor. His head hit with a sickening crack, and he roared in a pain. The strike ricocheted through his psychic form to pierce his physical body with agony. Vecna felt his iron grip on the puppet strings falter, and he roared in frustration.

“Eleven...” he growled, eyeing the now wide open double doors and the glaring red exit sign above it. “You've let my pet escape. That was very very rude. It's time for you to learn better manners.”

-----

Leia's head ached as she tumbled, landing with a jolt back into the waking watery world of the upside down. Vecna's dormant wiry form still locked around her, and the stream of fiery air still blasted down her throat from where he had bound their lips together. She writhed and twisted, nearing a panic, wondering if it was too late, if she had already been morphed into a creature of the upside down. The syrupy fluid, though heavy and dense, was surprisingly easy to see through. Twisting her head as far as it could go, she spotted figures, human figures far below, where the portal gaped; her friends.

She doubled her efforts. As she watched her friends taking hurried kicks to swim to the distant surface for air she also kicked and fought to travel with them. Eddie met her eyes for a pained moment, about to swim towards her on his way up, but Steve grabbed his arm to drag him back, towards the surface.

Good. Thanks, Steve. You need air first, scoundrel, or you can't help me. God, he looks so afraid but he's here anyway.

Seeing the desperation in Eddie's eyes gave her a burst of energy to resist the stiff branches tangled tightly against her. For all her work, only a minuscule gap formed between her arm and Vecna's tentacles. Though her arms were pinned to her side, she now found space to wiggle her elbow back and forth and roll her shoulder. With a sinking dread, Leia realized what she would have to do to get out.

She took several deep breaths, though the fire scorched her lungs, and steadied herself to pull. A snapping sensation radiated down her arm before the pain slammed into her, now dislocated, shoulder. Leia tried to muffle her scream, still acutely aware that it would echo directly through Vecna's own mouth, alerting him out of his trance. Her left arm was in agony at the slightest movement, and yet she had to move it; squeeze it closer against her body to become small enough to slip from his grasp. Little by little she wiggled herself free, terrified that any moment those cruel, milky eyes would snap open.

Leia was finally free, all accept for the latch of her mouth against his. There was only one way to do this that she could think of, and only one chance, and of course, without his life support she wouldn't be able to breathe until she surfaced...if she surfaced.

She stole one last deep breath from his lungs and slowly drew a dagger from her bandoleer. In on swift motion she plunged the blade into the side of Vecna's head. Leia knew it wouldn't hurt him much. She just needed him to wake up and flinch away from her mouth.

It worked. He screeched and reeled back, releasing her; shriveled lips and tendrils writhing away from their attacker. The horrible sound reverberated through the liquid as Leia swam up and up and up (as best she could with one useful arm) towards to glimmering sheet of the surface.

@veemoon @sweetsigyn @little-wormwood @elegantkoalapaper

A/N: Thank you all for your patience with the long pause. Life was doing a number on me, but I'm back with what I hope will be a satisfying endgame. Still thinking of making an "Eddie and Leia's Anti-Vecna Playlist". If you're interested in a mixtape of songs from the story, let me know. I love you all! Thanks for reading.

Peb

[viacursecasting]

Sonadow Scenario #71

{ Requested by anonymous }

Just as the sun kissed the distant horizon, the lifeform paced in front of the entrance to Sonic's abode, contemplating deeply. Every so often he muttered to himself, like:

"Greetings, Sonic the Hedgehog. Hm, too formal. Hello, Sonic. A new chili dog stand opened up and you should accompany me. Too demanding? I would like for you to accompany me. Just us. Without the gang. Ugh, that sounds so needy..."

Shadow sighed, shaking his head. "Damn it all." He gathered his resolve by balling his fists, then turned to knock on the—

Suddenly he heard the sound of breaking glass beyond the door. His eyes narrowed. "Sonic?" He tried the knob, finding in horror that the broken lock gave way. When he peered into the room, it was pitch black.

From his quills he drew his 9mm pistol, cocking it. Keeping his aim downward, he cautiously went inside, scanning the darkness.

He called under his breath, "Sonic?" But it was eerily quiet. His foot brushed a lampshade, finding the shattered lightbulb that caused the noise from earlier.

He swiftly made his way through the first floor, calling the hero's name. But he was met with silence every time, his nerves skyrocketing.

All of a sudden he heard a crash upstairs. "Sonic!" he cried, speeding up the staircase.

He skated toward the source, finding the master bedroom door hanging off its hinges. Through the cracks he saw a flash of glowing eyes.

He burst into the room, ready to fire. "Show yourself!"

The darkness had no response. His eyes darted everywhere, finding nobody. He constantly turned at every slight noise. Nobody still. He was starting to think his mind was playing games.

Suddenly something rammed into him from behind, forcing him to drop his handgun, which clacked across the ground. He grunted as he tossed and tumbled, getting tangled with something massive and furry.

Pinned underneath its hulking form, Shadow froze for only a moment as it snarled in his face, baring sharp, drooling fangs.

With his air shoes, the agent boosted out of its grasp toward his pistol. But the beast caught his ankle, throwing him against a wall, shattering picture frames.

Winded, Shadow collapsed, taking a knee. As he panted, his eyes met a photo of himself with crossed arms, the hero's arm around his shoulders as he gave a wink and a thumbs-up.

Shadow's heart ached at the sight.

With impossible speed, the beast scrambled toward him, claws scratching the floorboards. Shadow barely rolled out of harm's way as it rammed into the wall, leaving a crater.

This only aggravated it further, locking its menacing eyes on its target who was painfully dragging his feet to his gun. The monster extended its stretchy arms to knock the weapon out of reach.

The lifeform grit his fangs. Just as he whirled to face his foe, the beast grabbed his ankle once more, yanking him to the ground.

The creature pounced, slashing haphazardly toward Shadow's face, but the agent somersaulted right between its legs, sliding to a halt. The beast clumsily knocked into the bed, shaking off the pain with its back toward the agent.

Now was his chance. Shadow drew his handcuffs and threw them, swiftly locking the creature's wrist to the metal bedframe with a resounding clang. The monster growled as it tugged and tugged, but it was going nowhere.

Shadow retrieved his gun. "Now then..." He strode to the creature, aiming the barrel right between its eyes. He demanded, "What have you done with—?"

For the first time he locked gazes with the beast, which looked at him with pleading eyes. He could hear it whimper like a dog.

Shadow furrowed his brow. That gaze looked... so familiar...

Realization washed over him. He breathed, "...Sonic?"

The beast yelped as a splitting headache assaulted him. Shadow immediately sheathed his handgun, kneeling before the werehog. "Fight it, Sonic," he urged. "I know you're in there, damn it."

Sonic fought off the voices as best as he could, breathing heavily with the effort. Sweat beaded his forehead of matted fur.

The agent took one of Sonic's massive clawed hands, clutching it reassuringly. Sonic peered at the gesture, voice deep and gravelly. "Sh-Shadow..."

"That's right." Shadow spurred him on, "Come back to your senses. Come back to... me."

"I—" Sonic growled, thinking he would go berserk again. But the agent squeezed his fingers as if to hang on to Sonic's sanity.

Finally Sonic took a deep, shuddered breath, slowly regaining enough of his senses. "I'm sorry. Sometimes I can't control it."

Shadow regarded the werehog in the dim moonlight. "What... is it, exactly?"

Sonic averted his gaze. "A curse."

Shadow wore a pained expression. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I thought you would look at me differently."

He huffed. "You mean with a bullet hole between your eyes?"

Sonic chuckled nervously. "I guess I should've told you. I'm sorry."

"It's alright. I..." Shadow sighed. "I understand how it feels to be looked at like a monster."

The agent then motioned to uncuff him from the bed, but Sonic withdrew. "Don't," he pleaded.

Shadow was taken aback. "What? Why?"

Sonic swallowed. "Every time I... lose control," he winced, "my body has a mind of its own, but I can still see what's happening. I see destruction. I see... fear in people's eyes." He regarded the lifeform remorsefully, his voice frail and shaky. "I saw it in yours."

Shadow felt a pang in his chest. "Sonic..."

The werehog closed his eyelids in acceptance. "I deserve to be chained."

His ear twitched at the sound of his handcuffs being unlocked. He opened his eyes in shock. "What're you—?"

"You were always so dramatic," Shadow stated as he holstered the cuffs.

Sonic rubbed his wrist. It did feel nice to be free. "But what if I lose control again?"

"I'll watch over you and make sure that doesn't happen. And we'll find a way to cure you." Shadow viewed him with resolve. "I promise."

He made it sound so simple yet Sonic believed him. He hadn't felt this relieved in a long time, suddenly feeling very drained.

"Why don't you get some rest," Shadow offered, noticing the bags under the werehog's eyes.

"That... sounds nice." Sonic was about to curl up to sleep, but he felt himself being lifted onto the bed with ease. The last thing he remembered was the feeling of a cool pillow caressing his cheek.

After Shadow draped the sheets over the slumbering werehog, he idly stroked his deep azure fur, drawing back with a tint...

He was surprisingly soft.

[zelenxa]

BACKSTORY

The year is 1299 when Marci Lottway proposes the question Esteban Kensington will not, “Will you marry me?”

Initially, Esteban was overcome with hesitance. He, like the rest of his family, was burdened with serfdom — tied to care and tend to a piece of land he is allowed to yield little from for the rest of his life. Marci, however, was not. And it was clear, since the moment they shared their first kiss near the lake, on that starry night, that Marci and her family did not have the funds to buy him out of such a predicament. To make the decision to marry her and drag her into a lifestyle many fight so hard to escape would be cruel. It’s the very reason he’d been hoping to escape such a decision.

Yet, he is selfish. Esteban says yes.

Sweet June arrives before Esteban and Marci can finally manage to hold an audience with Lord Lassiter. While Marci is no wealthy freewoman, she has money left over from her inheritance—to which her generous brother, Kurtis Lottway, had afforded to her after the sudden yet tragic death of their parents. Marci intends to bargain the money with all she has. She does not yet tell her brother of her intention of marrying a serf. She and Esteban are young, both only 15 and 16 respectively. He'd say it was reckless, and he has his own worries courting Casandra Turner, the freewoman who tends her parents’ restaurant or tavern-of-sorts. Marci can see the older woman is lovestruck.

“This won’t work.”

Esteban voices aloud to Marci, the both of them standing in waiting inside the Lord’s estate. They keep their voices hushed. Marci glances away from the decor the Guard's Room is adorned with. Her fiancée is all nerves—Marci can’t blame him. Their idea feels foolish, only the both of them don’t have time to dwell on it when they are suddenly called upstairs.

The both of them have decided Esteban will do the talking. Esteban is a man, and his family has been under Lord Lassiter’s rule for generations. They’re hoping Lord Lassiter will take sympathy on the two of them. It’s the only way it’ll work. That, and that Esteban remembers all he needs to say. Additionally, the plan did stem from Marci first.

When they take the final step into the sitting room, and make eye contact with Lord Lassiter and his wife, Marci nearly feels the room skyrocket in temperature. She hopes to the Watcher her sudden sweatiness is not apparent on her face. It feels as if everything is sinking in, in this moment. Both Marci and Esteban bow and exchange formal greetings to the Lassiter couple, hands entwined with each other’s. Lord Lassiter appears stricken by age in comparison to his younger wife. His light brown has taken a even lighter shade of white and apparent wrinkles are beginning to form around his dark brown eyes. Marci imagines he’ll live a long time as long as peace remains in the Lands. Many are not so fortunate.

“State thy’s purpose.”

Lord Lassiter’s voice rings through the quiet room, finger thumping absently against his lush armrest. Marci looks to her fiancée and Esteban, with all the confidence he can muster, begins to explain their position, his voice tinged with reverence Marci is certain he does not feel. They ask for a bargain of sorts. In exchange for Esteban and Marci’s hard-earned 10,000 simoleons, they ask to be moved to a plot of land they can house by themselves, and that, for whatever land they may care to, they own 5% of its piece. Once Esteban’s speaking ceases, Lord Lassiter is quiet for the briefest moment. Then, he goes to describe the hard work he’s seen Esteban’s father accomplish on the plot of land he works. He tells them he believes Esteban can follow in his father’s footsteps.

It’s the last day Marci spends as a freewoman. She does not regret it.

1301 - The Kensingtons

They spend a year settling into their plot of land (although, really, not theirs). The piece they've resided in is not too far from the city where Kurtis lives with his newly wedded wife, Casandra. Albeit, it's far enough that Esteban must say goodbye to his family. Upon Marci pestering him on the topic, Esteban reassures her it's okay as long as they're together. Guilt-stricken, Marci speaks little on the subject from there on out.

Cultivating a new, unfamiliar set of land, however, is proving to be the biggest problem on Esteban's mind right now. The stock of food they have is a little to none and, for months, they've been relying on forging and the weekly hunting trips they're allowed to get them by. It leaves them eating a poor excuse of porridge; gruel.

A month after Twelfth Night celebrations cease, Marci begins feeling morning sickness, and a few more months after that? She begins showing. Feeling elated doesn't cover it, and the anticipation of the baby's arrival pushes Esteban through whatever struggles the fall harvest brings along.

The little one—they've decided to name him Keegan—arrives just smoothly. Yet, at a time when both Esteban & Marci have stocked just enough food to survive winter, getting Keegan to eat and maintain his weight becomes difficult as months go by. Unbeknownst to the two of them, Keegan is born with a vitamin deficiency. The little one doesn't make it past winter. He doesn't make it to the new year at all.

1302 - The Kensingtons

The death of Keegan hits Marci the hardest as she grows distant toward everybody. Her change of mood is most apparent with Esteban, whom she spends most of her days with. It takes multiple months for her to grieve and process Keegan's death, most months of which she is rather snappy at Esteban. It's unlike her good-hearted nature, though it is much attributed to her hotheadedness.

In the meantime, Esteban comes down with a nasty cold and nearly dies of Influenza. When he miraculously recovers, he's quick to refer it to Marci's prayers to the Watcher. Blowing out a breath of relief, she just laughs at him.

It's when Marci has finally picked herself up from the death of Keegan that she starts showing symptoms of pregnancy again. Immediately after her third morning of throwing up in her chamber pot, Marci understands what’s happening. While this time around, she feels more nervous than happy, when she tells Esteban of the news, his contagious excitement brings a smile to her lips.

'We're prepared this time around,' Marci thinks, sighing with effort against the hot June temperature. Her water broke just moments ago, and Esteban has gently guided her into bed. Normally, men wouldn't be present during childbirth but when the local midwife arrives, Marci is adamant he does not go. This time around they're better stocked and the fall harvest appears fruitful. Marci prays her child does not die.

Hours later, after a very difficult labor, Marci has given birth to two healthy babies, a girl and a boy. She and Esteban name their firstborn, Emiliano, and their second, Haven. As the remaining months of the year go by, and the twins celebrate their first birthday, Marci holds her breath, awaiting the worst. The twins survive anyway.

a/n: cough I didn’t take many pictures of 1300-1318, therefore there’ll sadly be little visuals for some posts. plus, all this played out, like, eleven months ago, so expect us to run through multiple years quickly! promise posts will get more pictures and be longer post-famine. I hope this style of storytelling is enjoyable to read! I’m a bit out of my element. <3

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