#gio shut up

[smoothiecas]

.

[virgothozul]

I don’t talk nearly enough about part5 and Mista. He’s my comfy dummy, bless this lil silly man. (wdym we’re talking about a mafia dude who does t0rtur3 and mur43r for a living)

[slightly-gay-pogohammer]

adult pokemon fans when there's a cutscene

[bikananjarrus]

the high republic authors need to be STOPPED

[thedevilsrain]

EROICA REFERENCE SPOTTED

[faglaios]

I need to ban my sisters boyfriend from the house he “made” rice by eyeballing the amount of water (NOT NEARLY ENOUGH), dubiously washing it (up for debate), and not salting it. yeah buddy youre done

[enwoso]

hey i absolutely love the lovie fics and i had a request for a fic about lovie getting into alessias make up or one about her as a newborn and meeting alessias family at her parents house

dab to far | alessia russo x child!reader

grumpy masterlist

the faint hum of the hairdryer had been the background noise for most of the afternoon for alessia's as she was preparing for the fifa awards in london.

the award show being a significant event, her and a few of her other teammate's nominated for the fifa best XI and alessia wanted everything to be perfect.

she tasked her brothers, luca and gio the job of baby sitting you for the night. admittedly they were not the blondes first choice — that would have definitely gone to her mum and dad. but they were out of town choosing to extend their winter holiday in the sun.

so her brothers would have to do. but while alessia was getting her hair and makeup done. it had been surprisingly quiet in her home, too quiet.

her hair stylist, louise finishing up her curled bun as she quickly excused herself telling the girl she should probably check up on you in which she just laughed waving the blonde off to do whatever she needed to do.

alessia's gut twinged as she walked up the stairs, her hair styled perfectly with each hair having a place. but something wasn’t right.

you weren't exactly known for being silent, especially when you were at home. alessia had a hard time getting you to be quiet in the comfort of your own home. you were more of a constant giggler, singer or babbler.

alessia slipped the salon cape on the banister at the top of the stairs, "guys?" she called out.

walking into the room where she could hear gio screaming at what she discovered to be the tv, as he was glued to the gaming console, headset on, controlled in hand as he sat on the edge of the bottom of the bed.

luca was sprawled out on the spare bedroom bed, sound asleep over the noise of gio, his mouth slightly open. typical.

gio was too immersed to even notice her approach. "gio," alessia said, hands on her hips.

he jumped, scrambling to pull one side of the headset off as he noticed his sister with a not too impressed look on her face.

"oh, hey less. your hair looks nice, louise's has done a grand job!" gio smiled as he tried to waver the unimpressed look of his sisters face.

"where's lovie?"

gio face went blank, then turned to mild panic before he stuttered out a response, "uh- i..i thought she was with you?"

alessia's sharp inhale could have rivaled a gale-force wind, "you thought she was with me?"

"well, yeah, she was here a second ago-"

"giorgio!" she groaned, cutting him off as she spun on her heel to try and find you, she didn't have time to lecture him right now. her mind raced as she checked the kitchen and the backyard calling out for you.

"lovie, baby where are you?"

but i wasn't until she was doing the second check of the the upstairs when she passed her room that she noticed something odd. the door was slightly open, and alessia could distinctly remember shutting it earlier.

she gently pushed it open and froze as she poked her head into the room.

you perched on the vanity chair, one leg swinging back and forth as you were surrounded by an explosion of makeup.

eyeshadow palettes were wide open, power dusted across the table and floor like a multicoloured snowstorm. lipstick tubes uncapped and their contents smeared across your tiny face in bold streaks of red and pink.

alessia's blush brush clutched in your tiny hand, its bristles now dipped in an alarming mix of colours.

noticing your mummy in the mirror stood behind you a small wince on her face as you turned and look to her with wide innocent eyes.

your lips - mostly your chin - coated in a sticky uneven layer of alessia's favourite lip gloss.

"mummy! i pretty like you" you declared proudly holding up the brush as if it was a magic wand.

alessia bit back a laugh, she wanted to cry over her ruined makeup but the sight of you so proud of your work melted away any frustration that was building.

"lovie," alessia said crouching down to your level as you sat on the vanity chair, "what have you done?"

you big smile faltered slightly, "i getting ready for the awards.. like you!"

alessia let out a small sigh, softening her tone, "lovie, you know you can't play with mummy's makeup like this. it's special to me and not for little girls"

your bottom lip trembled and alessia quickly reached out to wipe a bit of lipstick off your cheek. "it's okay but we're gonna have to clean this up together alright?"

you nodded solemnly your hands still clutching the brush and a half melted lipstick tube.

after cleaning up majority of the mess - and giving your face a thorough wipe, alessia was matching back into the guest room as you sat downstairs in the living room watching a programme in a fresh pair of pyjamas.

walking into the room, alessia flicked off the tv in the middle of the game gio was playing as she stood blocking the view of the tv.

"hey! alessia!" gio protested, glaring up at her as the gaming controller fell from his hands to his lap.

"don't you 'hey' me. you and him are supposed to be watching her" alessia gestures to downstairs. "you know where i found her? covered in my makeup! luca's asleep and your here playing a game i know you spent more than 12 hours a day playing!"

gio winced, sensing the slight frustration in his younger sisters tone, "she was quiet so i thought.."

"exactly! she was quiet that should have been your first clue!"

alessia didn't spare him any more words as she moved over to were luca lay sprawled out asleep on the bed. jabbing him slightly hard in the shoulder causing the boy to jolt up.

luca rubbed a hand over his face as he blinked groggily, "what's going on?"

"you're supposed to be helping watch lovie, not napping!"

"she's fine" luca mumbled defensively as his eyes fluttered closed again.

"erm she's wasn't actually, she was busy picasso-ing herself with my makeup in my room!"

luca groaned but alessia was already on her way back downstairs knowing her the makeup artist here to do her makeup would be waiting as she muttered under her breath about her useless brothers

as the makeup artist did the finishing touches as you sat comfortably in your mummy's arms getting your hugs in before alessia left as alessia couldn't help but chuckle at the memory of your colourful face.

you may have made a mess and ruined a bit of her makeup that she would no doubly have to replace but there wasn't anything she would trade it for then to have those memories with you.

she would however think twice about trusting her brothers with babysitting duties again...

[slightly-gay-pogohammer]

"lara croft looks like a MAN" "the netflix show is WOKE TRASH" "flop for LGBT lara cr-" SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT THE FUCK UP I HOPE YOUR CAR EXPLODES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!THATS NOT THE ISSUE STOP BEING A LOSER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[archangeldyke-all]

@sumilane made this gorgeous art and i wrote a little something for it! i posted it already last night as a reblog but i'm going to make it it's own post so gio can add more art to it!! eeek!!!

men and minors dni

sevika is feeling strangely vulnerable.

it could be the bottle of whiskey the two of you have been sharing this evening. it could be that silco, the one person she knew best in the world, is gone now. it could even be the brat he left behind for her to take care of who's been slowly worming her way into sevika's heart throughout the time spent fixing up her new arm and changing their looks together.

it could just be you, though. the sorta-sad, mostly resigned look in your eye as you lament your relationship woes to sevika.

"i dunno... every time i think i could have something with someone-- not even like, marriage, but y'know-- just someone to share some intimacy with-- something happens and it doesn't work. after a while i just start to think maybe it's not the circumstances that are fucked up 'n maybe it's just me."

"bullshit." sevika spits, shaking her head and quickly refilling her glass with more whiskey. she has to do something with her hands to keep from reaching across the table and shaking your shoulders as she speaks. "y-you're fine. perfect--" she cuts herself off, a furrow in her brow as she glares at her whiskey.

you snort. sevika's adorable when she's tipsy, stumbling over her words and staring into space. fuck. you need to stop rambling about your heartache to the woman you're hopelessly in love with. "i-i'm sorry for dumping this shit on you sev. 's boring and stupid and--"

"no, shut up, it's just--" sevika blinks up at you then curls in on herself in a manner that's almost... shy. she clears her throat and looks away for a moment, almost whispering. "i-i'd marry you."

you blink.

"what?"

"i'm saying you're fuckin' stupid if you think you don't have options." sevika mutters, hunching her shoulders so much she looks small.

you're heart's beating a mile a fucking minute, and you squeak when you bite your tongue to make sure you aren't dreaming. "you said you'd marry me?"

"fuckin'-- obviously only in some hypothetical world where you were into me." sevika shrugs. "but...yeah." she grunts, before reaching out and drowning the whiskey in her glass, muttering a "fuck." under her breath.

you blink a few times, tears spontaneously bubbling up in your vision and a lump forming in your throat. "i was under the impression that i didn't have a shot with you." you whisper.

sevika's eyes fly to yours, wide and shocked. "what the fuck would make you think that?!"

"j-just..." you trail off, gulping again. "you're the most interesting, attractive woman i've ever met, and i am one of about a thousand other fuckin' people in zaun who think so. a-and we've been friends for years and you never said anything..." you trail off as sevika stumbles out of her booth and over to yours, shoving in beside you and cornering you against the wall, clutching your jaw with both of her hands as she stares down at you-- bewildered.

"is this a dream?" she asks.

"i bit my tongue to check-- it's real."

"i-i was serious y'know. i'll take you down to the courthouse tomorrow morning." she says, her voice shaky and sincere.

suddenly, the full reality of the situation hits you, and you burst into laughter. "i-i've been in love with you for years." you admit through giggles. "years!"

sevika starts to giggle too. "m-me too."

"and your fucking haircut is so hot all i've wanted to do for the past two weeks is kiss yo--"

sevika cuts you off with her lips to yours, and you sigh, wrapping your arms around her shoulders.

it's a drunk, sloppy kiss-- years of tension and yearning finally bubbling to the surface as sevika attempts to pin you to the booth.

you have every intention of letting her do just that when she pulls away, grinning down at you.

"you really bit your tongue, didn't you? i can taste the blood in your mouth." she asks.

you nod, clawing at her desprately as you try to get her to kiss you again. sevika grins, swooping in to do just that-- but when she pulls away the second thime with her leps stained with your blood, you gasp. "oh, shit!"

"i tried to tell you." sevika giggles.

"do i need stitches? can you give stitches to a tongue?" you ask.

"this really puts a dent in all my plans." sevika cackles. you snort, and she passes you the bottle. "drink. it'll wash the blood away."

"w-what plans?" you ask as you take a swig.

"the plans i had for your tongue."

you choke, whiskey spraying everywhere as you cackle.

sevika--covered in your spit, blood, and whiskey-- smiles so wide you think her face might crack.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@lavandasz

[aheathen-conceivably]

Sometime before noon a record began to spin in Jo and Gio’s bedroom. Jo had slept most of the morning, rising only for a coffee and with the knowledge that there was a suitcase that needed to be packed.

Her weeks at home had been unnotable, and wonderful precisely because of that. She hadn’t thought of Val or the road or the aching sensation in her soul that screamed at her to run away and never look back. It had worked - shutting Val out of her mind through sheer will alone, seeing Gio and only Gio. She packed her bag with the knowledge that she was going back on the road with him on her mind. Then she would return home just as successful and happy as she felt now.

Round and round like a record, back and forth from the farmhouse to a tour and back again; until little by little she would succeed in taming her restlessness. This could be the rhythm of her life. Both steady and free - maybe even happy, despite being here in this place she had hated for so long. With every note that played the years stretched out in front of her with the promise of the best of both worlds.

Until the moment she saw his face.

In a single heartbeat, the placid peace between them began to crack like ice over a dark lake. He was seemingly angry over Jo's makeup and shoes strewn about the room, eyeing them one by one until the look of vitriol on his face spilled into words. Was this how she planned to spend her days here? Sleeping until noon without a care in the world while he worked outside in the sweltering heat? Leaving a trail of magazines and dirty cups in her wake so that when she left it all fell on him? 

She didn't even allow herself a moment of confusion over his sudden outburst. He was attacking her, and there was only one answer to that. Fight back. Did he think she was his live in maid? Or that she didn’t work her ass off every second she was out on the road? Like words perfectly tailored to cut deeper, his unexplained anger only grew wilder, honing in on the suitcases at their feet. Then, with one quick, deft moment, all of the ice around them cracked and they fell into the darkness together.

Somewhere in the distance, a record continued to spin, but neither of them could hear it. How could they when they were locked on each other like hawks circling their prey? After ten years, neither had to try very hard to find what to yell, or how to say it in the way that they knew would hurt the most.

Why didn't she just leave? It was what she wanted to do anyway. She was ruining their lives little by little every time she packed up her suitcase and went back on the road. All because she didn't have the courage to leave on her own without a backup plan. Meanwhile she just expected him to wait - to put his life and his feelings on hold while she built a life without him. Well he wouldn't be there when she got back. Because she didn’t love him. Not like he loved her.

But just as quickly it was his fault. His lie that had gotten them all into this mess. How dare he blame her when she had made these choices to get him out of debt? He should have left her alone in New Orleans. Her life would be better then. What idiocy had compelled this farm anyway? Of course it wasn’t her home. She hated it here. She couldn’t wait to leave. 

And Jesus Christ, he could drop the pitiful, benevolent caregiver act. He had lied to her and to Antoine and to Zelda all because he knew it was the only way to get her here. He was just as bad as she was, no matter what optimistic bullshit he tried to pull or how chivalrously he cloaked his intentions. He had manipulated her into a life he knew she would never have willingly agreed to all because he was lonely. What kind of love was that?

Only sometime in the afternoon, they realized that the record wasn’t playing anymore. The needle was hitting the end over and over and over again, and their voices had gone hoarse as the kindling of their rage ran dry. It seemed desperate all of a sudden, to try and hold onto the wisps of anger clinging to them like beaten battle flags; or maybe it was just the knowledge that if they let any more of it go there would be nothing left to fight over anymore.

So when Gio walked away from her again, she didn't follow him. Instead she just watched helplessly as he collapsed onto the couch, his head in his hands and an unspoken heaviness weighing down his shoulders. When he spoke it was to say what he realized he should have led with all along. “Zelda got a job with the town. At a library. And the crops are dying. One by one every morning I wake up, and there’s another one gone. I just - I don’t know if I can do it alone. I -“

It was harder for Jo to know how to answer that than it had been for her to refute even his harshest attacks, but she couldn’t let him sit there alone. Not like this. As her weight sank into the couch next to him he didn't even look up; instead he seemed to curl even deeper into himself. She tried to push down her last tendrils of anger and keep her voice as soft as she knew how. “Why didn’t you just tell me? Tell me when you walked in rather than all of this? I mean Gio, I can help, I can try to do what I can for you…”

“Because I saw your suitcase! And your goddamn money and I - I can’t pay the loan, alright? I just thought that if I gave it one more year I could make it work. And God, you saw what Antoine went through. Lord fucking knows where I’ll get work even if I tried. But there’s crops left alive and they grew, damnit. They grew! If I could just try - just give it one more season…”

“I’ll pay it. I’ll pay the loan for you.”

For the briefest moment she second guessed herself, sensing the excitement that she feared had spawned her words and the plan that was already forming in her mind. But before she could even conceive of taking any of it back, his shoulder hardened under her hand. “What did you just say?”

“I said I’ll pay it. I’ll pay the loan for you. A full year.”

The very air seemed to grow cold, like a chasm of icy water had opened at their backs. He opened and closed his mouth like he was going to tell her no, but she spoke before he could. “Listen. It’s only a loan. If you just need time I have money. In a year the corn might be reaching for the sky and this is nothing but a memory. But in return I want half of your share. Twenty-five percent.”

He jumped to his feet, the disbelief that had been in his voice seconds before now crescendoing back to rage. “You can’t be fucking serious.”

She stayed sitting, looking up at him calmly. It only made him angrier. “And you can’t expect me to just give you my money.”

“You’re not giving me shit! You’re extorting me!”

“You and Antoine own the majority of the house and Zelda’s legally entitled to some of his portion. At the end of the day if you decide to put me out on the street I have no legal right to fight you. What do you expect me to do? Hand over my own money with no reassurance?”

“I expect you to trust me.”

Her arms went across her body, like she already knew the card she was going to play and exactly when to play it. “Well then you shouldn’t have lied to me.”

Over and over again they went round in a circle, like a needle scratching the end of a record that they knew they needed to flip to the other side. Only the yells were too loud for them to care, or maybe the familiar drone was too comforting to lose. At least this way they knew how the record ended, or maybe no matter how many times they had heard it, really, part of them still liked it.

Because as the cracks form beneath your feet and the ice begins to shatter, the logical thing to do would be to run to safety, wouldn’t it?

Only what if you wanted to hear the ice shatter all at once? Watch it fall down into the icy lake in thick shards that look like glass in the stark sunlight. Or even better, you tumbled in along with it, not worrying about your life or your safety or anything else other than how alive you felt when the water hits your naked skin.

Everything else would seem paltry then, wouldn’t it? All those moments when your back was sore from the mundanity of life, or you wondered why it all felt so pointless. Because there’s nothing and no one else alive when your heart is beating like you’ve been fighting for your life and your hands come alive just before they go numb.

Because somewhere between rage and desperation was a wordless feeling you’ve been chasing. No matter how hard you’ve been trying to fight it, or how much you’ve been lying to yourself that you don’t need it, it’s still there, waiting for you at the bottom of the pitch black abyss you tumbled into together.

Previous / Next

[bikananjarrus]

“you couldn’t do your duty. you failed me, avar ... like you failed stellan.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Death Wish 17

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, violence/abuse and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Bucky Barnes

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you’re desperate for a way out of your life and you ask a powerful man for help (plus!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Photo Inspo

You sit beside Bucky. He’s stoic. Patient in an ominous way. You don’t try to mimic him. You know you can’t. You just keep still and listen. He does too. 

“Something in the boats, boss. Someone undercutting us down in the southeast.” Gio explains. “That fisherman, he drove off when I tried to talk to him.” 

“Hm,” Bucky nods. “And you’ve been watching? How do you know there’s something coming in?” 

“Just the way he’s actin’.” 

“The way he’s acting,” Bucky clucks and taps his fingers on his jaw. “Not much of a reason to pull the alarm. Put some eyes on the dock. Come back next week.” 

“Yes, boss. I’ll put my boys down there.” 

“Good,” Bucky sits back, hanging his arm over the side of his chair.  

He reaches for you, taking your hand and bringing it onto the high armrest. He squeezes. You focus on your posture. You resist the urge to look around at all those eyes staring back. You know they’re watching you. They have since the moment you got here. 

“The flower shop on third,” another man steps up. You recognise him. He used to come see your dad; Alfie. He meets your gaze with a squint. “They didn’t pay me in full. Said they can’t make cut.” 

“How much is cut?” Bucky asks. 

“1500” 

“Fifteen?” Bucky scoffs. “That’s as much they’d pay the government for their license. Take half.” 

“Half?” 

“Jumped up little man,” Bucky sniffs. “I got capos not taking that much from business in north side. Half. You’re lucky I don’t ask for it all myself.” 

He snaps his fingers and dismisses Alfie with a flutter of fingers. The older man gives you a long look as he backs up. His lip twitches. 

“One more thing,” Bucky drawls and shifts. “When you look at my woman, you don’t do it like that.” 

Alfie flinches. “I ain’t--” 

“Don’t fucking lie to me. Now walk away.” 

Alfie grits his teeth and lowers his head. He retreats. The air in the room turns stagnant. You focus on not fidgeting. You don’t want to draw any more attention. 

And the dress. It cinches to tight in the middle, it shows too much of your chest, it hugs your figure a little too snugly. You are dressed up like something you aren't.

“I got a wedding to plan. I need you all to start carrying your weight. You got a problem, go to the underboss. I’m not taking council over florists and fishermen.” He tuts. “Oh and make sure you RSVP.” 

He stands and tugs you up with him. You rise and adjust the high arch of the heels. He draws you to him and kisses your forehead. 

“Come on, doll. Now that it’s top of mind, we need to figure out flowers.” He lets go of your hand and puts his hand on your lower back, ushering you out of the room without a glance sideways. 

As the door shuts behind you, you exhale slowly, quietly. He takes you down the hall and up the stairs, pointing you up first. As you climb, he hums. “Perfect view.” 

You stiffen but keep going. You walk past a door and he chuckles. You turn back as he opens it. 

“You forgot?” He wonders. “It doesn’t remind you of that first night?” 

You blanch as you near him. You look him in the eye. “I remember.” 

His eyes flick up and down. He waves you inside. You enter ahead of him. The door clicks shut behind him and he brushes his palm along your rear as he dips in behind you. 

He goes around the desk to the cabinet in the corner. He pops open the glass door and takes out a dark bottle. He pushes his fingers into two glasses and pinches them together. He spins and carries it all to the desk. He sets them down with a clink. 

Quietly, he pours. He peeks up at you. A lock of dark hair falls forward. His dark tie is knotted high and firm, his collar starched and perfect. He puts the bottle down. 

“You asked me to do it.” 

“You didn’t.” You blurt out and look away. You shake your head and blink. Your finger twitches. You feel the trigger, you smell the gun powder. 

“I gave you the power you wanted.” 

You bite your lip. This isn’t what you asked for. You asked for safety. For peace. For your sisters. 

He comes around the desk. You sense him. You smell the alcohol before he holds out the glass. You glance at it and hesitate. 

“I don’t drink.” You say. 

“You need it.” 

You take it and turn away. You put it back on his desk. You keep your back to him. 

“You did good,” he says. You can hear him slurp. “You sat and listened. You didn’t let that man intimidate you.” 

“Why would he? He’s not you.” 

Silence. He drinks again. He comes up next to you. 

“You scared of me?” 

“I know I’m not in charge.” You shrug. “I know how it goes. I’ll do what needs to be done. Whatever it is you need me to do.” 

He sighs. “I’m not like him, don’t treat me like I am.” 

Maybe not, but the situation isn’t so different... 

“I know,” you lie. “Last week, I was just his daughter. I only had to worry about my sisters. It’s... a lot.” 

“And I know you can handle it, doll,” he rubs your hip and sets his glass down. “Come here.” 

He turns you to him, cradling your cheek as he steps closer. He squeezes the soft curve of your hip and smirks. His nose brushes yours. 

“I chose you because I know you can. You know when it’s time to take out the trash.” He caresses your cheek. “And you got a hell of a poker face.” He leans in and kisses you. You can taste the smoky scotch on him. He draws back and gazes at you, purring. “I’m gonna call your bluff, one day.” 

[emakataken]

Part 5.B

Idea: After a chance meeting at a firefighter bar, Tommy Kinard a guarded Air Ops pilot and Buck a restless academy recruit, fall into something neither of them saw coming.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5.A

~*~*~

They lean against the hood of Tommy’s truck while they eat, watching the line shuffle forward, letting the city hum around them. There’s something peaceful in it. The kind of quiet that Buck never takes for granted.

“You’ve got, what, a month left?” Tommy asks, casually licking a streak of salsa from his thumb.

Buck nods. “Three and a half weeks. Then two weeks off before I report to my probationary house.”

Tommy doesn’t look at him right away. Just finishes his taco and tosses the wrapper into the trash can near the curb. When he turns back, he lets out a sigh and their a flicker of nerves in his gaze that finds his. “So,” he says, “how about we take a trip?”

 “A trip?”

“Yeah. I was thinking Moab,” Tommy says, casual like it’s already decided. “Mickey’s letting me borrow his plane for the week. Sal’s brother Gio owns a bunch of vacation rentals across the U.S. said he’d rent us one cheap.”

Buck blinks at him, taco halfway to his mouth. “Wait, you’re serious?”

Tommy grins. “Hell yeah. Hiking. Rafting. Maybe some ATV trails. Skydiving, if you still feel like showing off.”

There’s something in his voice, light and deliberate. Like he’s offering more than just a trip. Like he’s asking for something neither of them has said out loud.

“I was also thinking,” Tommy says slowly, “quiet desert skies. A cold beer. Just us.”

He doesn’t push, watches as the words take root. The streetlight above them flickers on, bathing Buck in flickering, golden light. It halos him, makes the bruise on his jaw look like warpaint.

Buck swallows, a little too hard. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “Yeah, okay.”

They drive back with the windows down, music low, the kind that crackles like it’s playing off an old tape deck. Buck’s laughter catches in the wind. He looks loose. Unburdened. Like someone who hasn’t had to fight for this moment.

Tommy pulls up to the curb, headlights casting a long glow across the cracked driveway. The house looks even worse at night. Paint peeling. A broken porch light flickering weakly. A busted screen door rattles in the breeze.

Buck reaches for the handle. “Thanks for today.”

Tommy doesn’t answer right away. He just watches the front porch, brows slowly drawing together. There’s a shape in the shadows.

A man sits in a lawn chair just left of the steps, one boot propped up on the railing, arms folded across his chest. He’s got a cop’s haircut and a jawline sharp enough to cut someone. His gaze is locked on the truck.

Buck freezes halfway out. His face goes pale. “Fuck.”

Tommy glances at him. “Friend of yours?”

Buck’s jaw tightens. “Stay here.”

He shuts the door before Tommy can argue.

Zen stands as Buck reaches the bottom step, voice low and pissed. “What the fuck, Buckley?”

“Jesus, Zen,” Buck mutters. “You stalking me now?”

“Didn’t have to. You weren’t answering your texts. Your phone was going straight to voicemail. So I used the last address you had on file. Figured I’d find you dead or drunk. But this?” He gestures to the house, disgust curling his mouth. “This is worse.”

“Don’t start,” Buck snaps, already moving past him toward the porch.

Zen follows. “You living in a rent-share frat den with mold on the siding and a mattress on the floor. Are you fucking using?”

Buck spins. “What?”

“You heard me.” Zen’s voice sharpens, slicing through the air. “You drop off the map, stop responding to the team, cut off Ghost’s goddamn mother after she tried to send you a care package. So yeah. I have to ask.”

“I’m not using,” Buck growls.

“Then what the hell is this?” Zen gestures toward the sagging porch. “You’re a Medal of Honor recipient, Buck. And you’re sleeping ten feet from where someone OD’d last week? I talked to your landlord. Told him you were prior military. Flagged a wellness check. He said you haven’t missed rent, but you come and go at odd hours and don’t talk to anyone.”

Buck shoves a hand through his hair. “This is temporary.”

“You’ve been out here for fifteen months.”

Buck’s voice drops. “I didn’t ask for a rescue.”

Zen steps forward, eyes narrowing. “You didn’t ask for anything. You disappeared. You ghosted the only people who ever had your six.”

“Bullshit,” Buck spits. “I called Trigger. You were in D.C. A coma. I was here. Alone. And you know what he said? He told me to lose his number.”

Zen doesn’t move, but his jaw ticks like Buck just confirmed his worst suspicion.

Buck lets out a bitter laugh. “So don’t stand there pretending I’m the one who walked away. Your golden boy made it real clear I wasn’t welcome anymore. I tried to save Ghost. I did.”

The porch door creaks behind him. One of his roommates stumbles out, stinking of weed as he disappears down the street.

Zen watches him go, nose wrinkled. “You call this living?”

“I call it starting over,” Buck snaps. “I blew through my entire savings just surviving. The surgeries. The rehab. The meds. The shit I had to outsource because the VA denied me at every other turn. You know why? Because my file is so redacted I can’t even verify half of what happened.”

He takes a step forward. “I joined the academy because I had to. Because I didn’t know how to be a civilian. But I sure as hell couldn’t be a ghost.”

Zen exhales like he’s been hit. “We didn’t drop you.”

“You could’ve fooled me.”

“I was in the hospital,” Zen says, sharp. “Six months. Then another six in rehab. I only found out what happened in Ghazni from Jace, months after the fact. By then, Ghost was gone. Trigger was a mess. Everyone else was still deployed or scattered, and no one knew how to reach you. We thought…” He hesitates. “I thought you needed space.”

Buck’s expression flickers. Not enough to crumble, but it cracks something under the surface.

“I needed someone,” he says quietly. “And no one showed.”

Zen doesn’t have an answer for that. He just stands there, jaw clenched, guilt flickering in his eyes.

The truck door opens behind them, slow and deliberate. Buck tenses. Zen turns.

Tommy approaches calm, quiet. His posture reads military, steady in a way that sets off every instinct Zen has.

“You good?” Tommy asks Buck, voice low and even.

Buck nods once.

Zen’s eyes flick between them. “Who the hell are you?”

“Tommy Kinard,” he says simply. “Friend.”

Zen clocks the pause. The way Buck doesn’t correct it. The way Tommy doesn’t flinch.

“Right,” Zen says. Too sharp. “Friend.”

Buck steps in before Tommy can speak. “It’s late. You’ve said your piece. Go home, Zen.”

Zen doesn’t move. “We’re not done.”

Buck’s voice drops. “I know. We’re brothers.”

Tommy stays quiet as Zen stalks off down the sidewalk, boots crunching against broken glass.

Buck watches him go. Tommy reaches out. Just enough to rest a hand lightly between Buck’s shoulder blades. “You okay?”

Buck’s nod is more breath than motion. “Can we go?”

“Yeah,” Tommy says. “Yeah. Come on.”

They drive in silence for a while.

The city slides by strip malls with blinking neon. Empty bus stops. Busy restaurants, bars and gas stations.  As they hit their fourth red light in a row, Buck exhales. “I didn’t want you to see it like that,” he says finally. “The place. Me.”

Tommy’s hands stay steady on the wheel, but his voice is quiet when he answers. “That’s why you usually meet me.”

Buck doesn’t deny it.

The next turn comes up fast. Tommy takes it smooth and the truck hums as he speeds up. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks after a beat.

Buck lets out a breath as the truth spills out. “Because the second you knew, you’d want to fix it.”

Tommy doesn’t argue.

“And I’m not a rescue mission,” Buck adds, voice low.

Tommy doesn’t reply, not with words. Just flicks his blinker and pulls over into the nearest parking lot. He reaches out, fingers brushing lightly against the back of Buck’s neck. “I’ve seen your fight,” Tommy says quietly.

Buck finally looks at him. The tiredness is back in his eyes. Something frayed and old behind the brightness. “I’m not ashamed,” Buck says. “But I didn’t want you to look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I need saving.”

Tommy holds his gaze. “That’s not what this is.”

Tommy shifts back into drive.

Buck leans his head against the window, watching streetlights flicker past in soft intervals. There’s no tension in his shoulders now, just that quiet kind of exhaustion.

Tommy doesn’t take him back to the frat house. He doesn't take him to his own place either.

Instead, he turns onto a familiar residential street lined with citrus trees and kids’ bikes abandoned in yards.

The truck slows in front of Sal and Gina’s. The porch light is still on.

Buck frowns. “What are we doing here?”

“Gina’s making coffee,” Tommy says simply. “Sal’s been pretending not to spy on your living situation for months now.” He looks over at Buck. “You’ve got people,” he says. “Let them show up.”

The house smells like garlic bread and baby shampoo. Somewhere inside, a toddler shrieks with laughter. Gina’s in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, pouring coffee like she’s been expecting them.

“Sit,” she says, not looking up. “Sal’s putting the girls to bed.”

Buck perches on the edge of a stool. Tommy stands behind him, his hand resting against Buck’s back. Warm. Steady. Solid.

“You’re not staying in that shithole anymore,” Gina says.

Buck opens his mouth, but she cuts him off.

“Before you argue, we’ve got a garage apartment out back. It’s ugly, but it’s functional. You help us fix it up, it’s yours.”

Buck looks to Tommy then back to Gina. “You’re serious?”

Gina snorts, grabbing a stack of crayon-covered drawings from the fridge. “You think I’m letting a war hero live next to a bunch of barely-legal who throw keggers on weeknights?”

She shakes her head, thumb brushing over a child’s scribbled picture of a stick-figure firefighter looking up at a helicopter. “Please, Buckley. Between four daughters under twelve and Sal’s ‘home improvements,’ you don’t even crack my top five disasters. “Her voice softens. “We love you, kid. The girls adore you. Family helps family.”

Buck shifts, throat working. “You don’t have to do this. I don’t want to… take advantage. Or complicate things.”

Tommy sets his mug down, slower than usual. He leans forward, elbows braced on his knees. His voice is steady at first, but there’s a pause before he speaks, like he’s weighing each word. “If it were just me?” he says. “I’d ask you to move in.”

Buck’s head snaps up.

Tommy meets his gaze, but he doesn’t look at Gina. “I would. In a heartbeat.” He pauses and lets out a shaky breath. “But I don’t want to screw this up by skipping steps. What we’re building… it matters. And it’s working.”

Buck doesn’t answer right away, just watches him. His eyes are wide, uncertain and soft, and Tommy feels every inch of Gina’s presence at his back like a spotlight.

“I want you close,” Tommy says, quieter now. His voice frays at the edges, a bit shaky. “But I also want you to have space that’s yours. Somewhere safe. No strings. Somewhere you can land on your own feet.”

Buck nods slowly, understanding coiling around him. “I’m not used to people thinking that far ahead.”

Tommy huffs, the sound small. He rubs his palms against his knees, glances once quick toward the living room, then back to Buck.

“Well,” he says with a crooked, wry smile that doesn’t quite hide how much he means it, “get used to it.”

Buck lets out a quiet breath.

Tommy nudges his shoulder, just enough to bring them back to earth. “C’mon,” he says. “Let’s go see what you’re working with.”

[goodlucktai]

raised on little light (2/3)

rise of the tmnt word count: 4k pairing: mikey & oc big thank you to  @soldrawss for the art included in this chapter and to  @mykimouser for making me insane about neutral!michelangelo at all hours of the day title borrowed from northern attitude by noah kahan read on ao3

x

2031

Mikey is looking for his little brother. It seems like he spends half his life doing that these days. 

The TV is on in Splinter’s room, door ajar but equally as unapproachable as the door to Donnie’s lab, which is shut tight, as usual. Raph’s door is standing open, but his room is empty, because he leaves early for work on the weekdays. 

Mikey maneuvers past the closed doors and empty rooms like a professional. He doesn’t even have to think too hard about it anymore. 

Rounding the corner to the dining room, Mikey’s stride slows and relief punches an exhale out of him. He doesn’t realize how tense he is until he deflates like a balloon. 

Gio is asleep at the table, face half-buried in his folded arms, crossbow and maintenance supplies spread out in front of him. It’s disappointing, but not surprising. He rarely stays in his own room, as if he’s afraid of taking up space that isn’t really his. As if they’re going to change their mind and tell him they do still need it for storage, actually, and he wants to be ready when they do. Mikey’s pretty sure he never fully unpacked his bag. 

Sometimes he leaves the lair entirely, and since he’s the most unreliable texter Mikey knows, and has never met a phone call he would answer without a gun held to his head, he might as well fall completely off the grid each time he’s gone. Mikey stays up on those nights, keeping busy in the kitchen, worrying worrying worrying. 

He feels too much like Raph when he doesn’t know where the kid is. He understands intimately how overbearing big brothers could be, remembers how a tiny rift had formed between him and Raph when they were young because of it—childish and inconsequential in the grand scheme of things to come, but devastating at the time. 

So he tries to channel Leo instead, who had always trusted Mikey to know when to ask for help if he needed it. Tries to make sure Gio never feels like he can’t come home again, with a smile ready for him as soon as he slips silently back through the door. 

But last night Gio must have stayed in. There’s a blanket draped over him that Mikey didn’t put there, and Splinter almost certainly hadn’t left his room to put there, which leaves two possible culprits. Raph and Donnie don’t know how to make gestures that Gio can see for what they are, hardly know how to be in the same room as the kid without seeing a ghost superimposed where he’s standing. It leaves a lot of the emotional heavy-lifting on Mikey’s shoulders, but it’s fine. A brother could never be a burden to him. 

Mikey can’t give Gio everything he deserves to have, everything that should have been his from the very beginning, but he can give him some things. 

And we’ll start, Mikey thinks with the kind of absurd resilience that wouldn’t have been out of place at the actual end of the world, with breakfast. 

Gio wasn’t trained in ninja like the rest of them were but his senses are as sharp as any other turtle genetically modified for war. Mikey woke him up with a touch once and the fear response only lasted a handful of seconds but it was enough that Mikey made the executive decision that no one would ever do that again, or else. 

Mikey pulls a chair out beside the smaller turtle and sinks into it soundlessly. He traces the newly-familiar white spots on that smoky gray-green face with his eyes, counting and recounting them, even though he knows how many there are. Everything about Gio is at once brand-new and well-loved to him. 

After a moment, the only other sound the ancient Snoopy clock counting seconds in the kitchen, Mikey starts to hum. Three little birds sat on my window…

He can’t help remembering another morning just like this one, what feels like a lifetime ago. Mikey, all of thirteen, had insisted on being woken up to make breakfast so he could try a new crumble muffin recipe, but he’d stayed up too late the night before and sleep clung stubbornly to him despite the row of alarms he’d set. Their resident insomniac had been the only one awake, by virtue of not having gone to bed in the first place, and he’d parked himself in the beanbag under Mikey’s hammock and hummed the same song over and over until Mikey woke up. He had it stuck in his head for the rest of the day. They sang “GIRL PUT YOUR RECORDS ON” in the kitchen at the top of their lungs until Donnie sent the group chat a PDF of a noise complaint form, completely filled out. 

Mikey hadn’t realized he was taking any of it for granted back then. He would do anything— anything—to wake up that way again. Just one more time. 

Beside him, Gio stirs. Once he’s awake he’s alert fast, those big dark eyes sliding open and staying that way, head coming up off the pillow of his arms. He has that look on his face that Mikey would be tempted to call earnest on anyone else. 

“Rise and shine, Clementine,” Mikey says brightly, reaching over to rub the back of his fingers against a spotted cheek affectionately. “I was craving breakfast empanadas today and was hoping my best sous chef would be willing to help me out.” Then, deliberately light-hearted, he adds, “Little turtles who skip dinner have to eat extra breakfast, you know. That’s house rule number one.”

Gio blinks at him, his face giving nothing away to the casual observer. 

“I thought house rule number one was ‘always get it in writing’.” 

Mikey’s smile widens, surprised and pleased every time he plays along. 

“That’s number three, actually. Right behind ‘don’t do anything you wouldn’t want recorded and replayed at family functions.’ If you want, I can tell you exactly why that one’s a rule, and why it’s entirely Donnie’s fault.”

Gio does that thing where he assesses Mikey’s expression and tone as though he’s looking for the trap. Mikey weathers it, makes sure his smile doesn’t slip an inch. 

Donatello is more of an urban legend to Gio than his actual living brother. After a few hesitant attempts to approach the older turtle that had been shut down completely each time, Gio made the informed decision that that road was closed permanently. 

Sometimes Mikey will tell a story, or April, on one of her increasingly sporadic visits to the lair, will lean over and show him a video on her phone, and Gio will listen or watch like he has no idea who the guy they’re talking about could possibly be. 

They do their best, but there’s no way to really introduce the Donnie that they know to Gio, because that Donnie only still exists in their stories and videos. The Donatello who was silly, who loved music and theater, who burst into the living room with some new invention or gadget to boast about, had been replaced by one who rarely spoke, who didn’t even have Spotify on his phone anymore since it took up too much space, who kept the lair running only because it was where his family lived but not because he had any lasting attachment to the place, and he certainly didn’t make any unnecessary tech just for fun. 

I know you’re still in there, Mikey thinks sometimes. 

He’ll bring Donnie lunch and leave it on the table in the lab, and then hold out his arms. Sometimes, Donnie won’t look at him. Sometimes, Donnie will put his tools down and let his little brother crowd in for a hug. He’ll tuck Mikey under his chin and hold him tight, like they were children again and nothing was wrong that couldn’t be made right. 

Thank you for staying, Mikey will think, clinging for every second he’s allowed to. I know it’s hard. It’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do. 

The grief is always encroaching, like floodwaters. Rising slow and steady, swallowing up cars and street signs and single level houses, changing the landscape of his hometown until it’s an unfamiliar place. No end in sight. No sign of land. 

Someone send us a boat, Mikey wants to cry hysterically. But he knows how stupid that is.

He is the boat. 

—

When he met Giorgio for the first time, Mikey was twenty-five and Leo had been dead for ten years.

“Sorry,” Mikey said. His fingers felt numb around the phone. “Could you say that again?”

“A turtle,” Hueso had replied shortly. “I would not have called, but he has familiar eyes. He is not aware of any family in the area. Would you like me to ask him to wait for you?”

Mikey hadn’t tried his portals again since the last disastrous time—since Raph had made him promise to stop—so he knew it couldn’t be Leo. He knew it. Hueso would be able to pick his sobrino out of a million turtles and would have led the call with that. And Leo wouldn’t have stopped for pizza before running back to them, he wouldn’t have stopped for anything. Leo would have been the one to let them know Leo was home. 

Still, there was a tiny warbling hope in the bottom of his heart that wailed “maybe, maybe, maybe.” Still, it hurt to feel that hope shrivel up and die when Mikey slammed into the private dining room and found Hueso talking to an unfamiliar mutant with white spots and a black shell and—it was undeniable—Hamato Yoshi’s eyes. 

The turtle was small, dressed in dark grays and greens, a strap across his chest that made it clear he was armed by something resting out of sight on his back. He stood with his arms crossed, in a manner that was probably supposed to read as stubborn or defiant, but Mikey clocked instantly as nervous. 

This kid didn’t know what he was doing here or who the hell Mikey was and he looked about as comfortable with all the attention as Donnie would have been at that age. 

Mikey felt himself soften, some distant part of his heart sitting in disuse and disrepair lurching to life again. Ancestral magic that he had largely turned his back on suddenly stirred, ninpo reaching out fragile feelers toward the person in the room that it recognized as immediately as if it was looking at its own self in a mirror. 

“This is one of my creations,” Draxum announced, confirming what Mikey’s heart had already decided. “It must have survived after all.”

“Elaborate,” Mikey said, in a tone that didn’t match the gentle smile he had for the spotted turtle. 

“How old are you?” the alchemist had asked instead, which seemed an odd first question to have and didn’t explain literally anything. 

“Eighteen,” the spotted turtle replied. Mikey’s brow made a bid for his hairline. He would have been less surprised if the kid had said fifteen. Was he that scrawny as an eighteen year old?

“You hatched at about the same time as the red one,” Draxum said dispassionately, “so you should have been about his age, and he is twenty-seven. And how did you come to be here?”

Gio’s eyes slid away from him, over to Mikey. Mikey didn’t know what his face was doing. He hoped it was encouraging. 

“I went through a yellow door,” Gio said. “And I ended up here.” 

“By yellow door, I’m assuming you mean a rift in space-time,” Draxum said. “What possessed you to walk into it?”

“Felt safe,” Gio said, and that was the last thing he said about it, expression closing up in a way Mikey was intimately familiar with as I’m done talking and liable to bite if provoked. But Draxum was a lot of things, genius among them, and seemed to already have an idea of what had happened. 

Portals could be capricious. The night of Splinter’s mutation and escape from the Hidden City, a machine in Draxum’s original lab had gone haywire as the structure collapsed. Draxum watched as it snatched up various tools and equipment and finally one of the experiment enclosures that Splinter had not been able to reach in time to save its occupant with the four he already carried. 

With the machine destroyed, it was impossible to even begin tracking the experiment down to wherever it had ended up. And there were unfortunately small odds that the creature would have survived long on its own wherever the portal deposited it. Draxum had written it off as dead. 

But there he was. Ten years displaced, but living and healthy and whole. Apparently he’d been in another dimension all this time, and only came back again because a portal he encountered had looked inviting. 

—

And now he’s in Mikey’s kitchen, listening studiously to his brother’s chatter and following instructions with exacting precision, still wearing the ridiculously oversized red sweater Mikey bundled him into the day before. It made Raph’s face do something funny when he saw Gio in it at lunch, but he hadn’t said anything when he saw Mikey hauling it out of the dryer earlier that morning, and he didn’t say anything at the table either.  

Over the years and countless wash cycles it’s been worn to unbelievable softness. It used to be that Raph couldn’t keep it in his closet if he tried, caught as it was in a constant rotation between little siblings who loved to wear it, floppy sleeves and sagging hem and all. It’s almost strange to see it again, here under the kitchen lights in this new country they all live in. 

Stealing clothes was a baby brother right of passage. And it was just collecting dust in storage anyway. 

Gio sees Mikey looking and glances down self-consciously. Then he jolts, and drops the ball of dough in his hands, lifting and twisting his left arm to put it more in the light. Near the elbow of the sleeve is a smudge of flour. 

He thumbs at the spot, preoccupied by it. His body language is shrinking because he always makes himself a smaller target when he starts to get anxious. 

One day, Mikey is going to find whoever taught him to do that and have words. For now, he rounds the island to Gio’s side and leans against it so he can duck down and peer into that little spotted face. He makes sure to plant his own elbow in the flour dusted across the butcher block counter, sending up a little poof of it as he does. 

“Hey, sweet kid, don’t worry about this old thing. It’s already been through everything you can possibly think of,” Mikey reassures, tweaking the hood playfully. “It survived the Paintball War of 2017, it’ll hold up to a little baking accident.”

Gio’s dark eyes lift to meet his, attentive and absorbing everything he sees and so, so careful. 

“Raphael won’t get mad?” 

Mikey keeps smiling, even though he’d like to start crying. 

Of course he won’t, he wants to say. He’s your big brother and he loves you. He’d move heaven and earth for you. He doesn’t know how to say it these days—he doesn’t trust himself to hold people the way he used to, doesn’t know who he is anymore since the shield he used to be was broken—but he’s still Raph. Our Raphie. I promise, it’s still him. 

Gio had never been lifted up into strong arms and tossed in the air until he laughed, caught safely and held tight like those arms would never get tired of holding him. He had never crawled under the blankets in a room humming and blinking with electronics after a nightmare, resting his head on a broad shoulder and falling asleep to a low voice rattling off his favorite explanation of gravity—a force that held everything down, pulled everything together, that could always be counted upon to keep you. He had never snuck out for brunch, just him and someone who saw him more clearly than he could ever see himself, who knew when a stack of French toast and a string of Snapchat selfies and a little mischief was exactly what he needed. 

Gio had never had any of that. He had been alone since he was freshly mutated and abandoned by pure chance, and now he was barely nineteen and he didn’t know how else to be. He didn’t have the first clue, but he was so willing to learn. He soaked up attention like a plant starved for sunlight, petals reaching endlessly for an end to the dark.  

I wish you had been there, Mikey thinks sometimes when he looks at him, heart breaking with the truth of it. We would have held you. You wouldn’t even know how to be alone. You wouldn’t be worried about a stain on a sweater. 

“He won’t get mad,” Mikey says instead. He channels his most charming brother, the one who could sell water to a fish, who could talk his way out of anything, who convinced his family to keep hoping even when all hope seemed lost. “And hey, if he brings it up, we’ll just blame the cat.” 

The corner of Gio’s mouth twitches, and then he smiles despite himself, as buoyed along as Mikey always was when Leo was silly with him, and says, “We don’t have a cat.” 

“Maybe I’ve just been waiting for an excuse to get one!” 

At that point, a burst of white noise from the living room cuts over whatever Gio might have been about to say. It sounds like the roar of wind from an open window of a car going seventy down the highway. It cuts off, and then something clatters noisily, and Gio’s reluctantly amused expression vanishes into alarm. 

They don’t exactly get a lot of surprise visitors down here. He wouldn’t recognize the familiar sound of transportation-by-time-scepter, followed by the even more familiar sound of its clumsy wielder tripping and knocking something over immediately upon arrival. 

“Oops—helloooo?” 

“In here, Renet,” Mikey calls back, nudging his shoulder into Gio’s so he knows not to worry. 

The timestress bumbles in, scepter tucked into the crook of her arm so she has both hands free to fix her braids. She’s smiling all big and crooked and sweet, mouth open to greet Mikey the same enthusiastic way she always greets him, but she stops dead in the doorway when she catches sight of the second turtle in the room. 

Renet takes one look at Gio and says, “Oh! Well, you don’t belong here at all, do you?”

It’s been a long time since Mikey has felt like screaming at her, but the way his little brother absorbs that blow without flinching is enough to get him on his feet. 

“Hey, Nettie, can we talk in the hall?” he says with a brightness he doesn’t feel. “Georgie, I’ll be right back, okay?”

Gio dips his head in a nod, slowly rolling dough in his hands again, and Renet follows Mikey out of the room like someone who knows they’re about to face the firing squad. 

“I did not mean it like that,” is the first thing she says when it’s just the two of them. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

Mikey does know that somewhere in the back of his mind. Renet is his friend and she’s never been anything but kind to him. If they had met when they were children, they probably would have gotten along like a house on fire. 

There was a time when he only saw the best in people, but the idealism had been carved out of Mikey when his portal to the prison dimension failed to open.

Some days, Mikey looks at Renet and can only see the person with time itself at her disposal, the past and future spread out like a choose-your-own-adventure book—the person with the power to help, to change things, who took Mikey’s countless, desperate pleas to be allowed to save his brother and held them tenderly like they were important to her and still told him no. 

Some days, that “no” is the most significant thing she ever said to him. 

“He’s my brother,” Mikey says. “He belongs wherever we are.” 

“Of course he does,” Renet says, brown eyes soft. “Mike, of course he does. That’s not what I meant.”

When they move back into the kitchen, introductions are made properly, and Renet makes it a point to clarify that she’s glad to finally meet him. 

Giorgio is watching them with those eyes that take in everything. Deep and trusting when he looks at Mikey, sharpening into something calculative when he shifts his gaze toward Renet. 

Looking back, Mikey will recognize it as the moment he lost him. 

“Smells pretty good in here, boys!” Renet says, swanning over to the stovetop. “Oh, is that chorizo? Mike, tell me you’re not making empanadas! I already ate on my way over!” 

“Then you won’t need to stay for breakfast,” Mikey sing-songs, feathers still ruffled. Then, because he feels bad for the way she deflates at the blatant dismissal, adds, “If you want to stick around, you can take some back with you to Null Time. Just don’t let that jerk Savanti have any, I don’t like his vibe.” “I swear,” Renet says, hand to her heart. 

“You talk about time travel like it’s something you can do,” Gio says suddenly. “Is it?”

The air in the room suddenly feels much thinner than before. Renet looks at Mikey quickly before answering.

“Sure, Gio. I’m a timestress—or, you know, I’m a student now. Basically an unpaid intern. But one of these days I’ll be the real deal.” She winks at him, and Gio gazes back at her placidly. 

“So you could send someone back in time? To stop something bad from happening?”

Oh, no, Mikey thinks. 

“I could,” Renet says. To her credit, she doesn’t sound as bone-tired of this conversation as she must be. “But I can’t. There are so many rules, and for good reason! One little slip-up could be an absolute disaster. It won’t do you any good trying to change the past if you end up destroying the present and the future while you’re at it, right? I’m barely allowed to look at this thing, much less use it,” Renet goes on, wagging the priceless time scepter around like it’s a rubber spatula. 

“But you could,” Gio says. “If we followed all the rules. If we figured out a way—”

“Georgie,” Mikey interjects. 

“I’ll tell you what I told Mike, baby,” Renet says gently. “It can’t be done. He belongs here.” 

Gio says, “But I don’t. You said that.”

“Stop,” Mikey says, not recognizing his own voice. 

But it’s too late. It was too late when he tried to open a door inside the prison dimension, because Leo was already dead inside. 

He was already dead inside, Draxum had said, clinical in a way that helped to distance himself from the hurt, but also distanced himself from the ones hurting, clinical in a way that made Mikey bare his teeth and say things he couldn’t take back. That’s why you couldn’t reach him. It wasn’t your fault. There wasn’t a point for you to anchor off of, there was no other end for your line to reach. He was already dead inside. He was already gone. 

Mikey stares at Gio, the tuck of his chin as he looks back down at the dough on the counter. He’s unwilling to argue with Mikey, but that stubbornness is an innate family trait. There’s no way he’ll give it up now that he’s got his teeth sunk into the idea. Mikey knows what it looks like when a brother is about to leave. Mikey knows what it feels like when they’re already gone.   

When he was younger, he was so angry. He was bursting with potential, with possibilities, his magic a wounded, snarling creature in his heart. It’s not fair that he failed. It’s not fair that he didn’t save his brother, that his love wasn’t enough to punch through the prison dimension and wrap Leo in warmth and light and bring him home. It’s not fair that no one was willing to help him. 

Fine, he had thought, fine! I’ll do it myself! 

Renet had explained to him over and over that his power had more to do with space than time. Casey Jr. said that he’d been sent back in time by his Uncle Michelangelo, but that wasn’t necessarily true. Casey’s arrival in the past had created another universe, parallel to the former. That was Mikey’s power—he could affect and even create other timelines, which was powerful and amazing, but not true time travel. Nothing he did could change his own reality, the one he was living in, because he had already lived it. He couldn’t get back what he had lost. 

Mikey plunged ahead anyway, desperate. He could make it work. He could make a change. Even if it didn’t change anything here, he could find another world and save its Leo and—and maybe that could be a start. Maybe he would finally get his head up above water, and stop drowning for just one second of the day, maybe he’d be able to take a full breath for the first time since his brother disappeared on the other side of a closed door.  

He didn’t wait for permission or approval. He slunk off into a tunnel a mile away from home and drew the circles himself. Lifted his hands and filled them with power, until it felt like he was holding the sun. And it hurt, of course it did. It burned all the way through. But he was hurting anyway. 

A portal opened, a pale yellow window. Mikey looked through it, and saw himself on Staten Island, ripping open a hole in the universe and saving his brother. 

What?

He looked again, over and over, at least half a dozen times—and every time, he looked into a universe where Leo didn’t die. Where Mikey saved him, or Raph scooped him up before he went diving off the Technodrome to catch Mikey and Donnie, or Donnie flew back up to Leo with a rocket and yanked him back through the door before Casey managed to close it. Over and over and over, Leo didn’t die. 

So it’s just me, Mikey realized. I’m the one who got it wrong. 

Raph followed the detonation of ninpo and hysterical screaming through the maze-like tunnels and found him suspended in midair. Rock and rebar were flying around Mikey, everything not nailed to the earth turned dangerous projectiles, his arms burning and flaking away into pieces that disintegrated when they met open air. 

His big brother’s expression had been terrified as he pulled Mikey down into his arms and held him through the shrieking storm he’d made. One hand on the back of his head to keep his face tucked safely into Raph’s scarred shoulder, the other arm cradling him like he was half his age, like he was still someone’s baby. 

“Angie, it’s okay,” Raph had said, low and aching. His voice was a rumble beneath Mikey’s ear, barely audible but just loud enough. “It’s okay. You can scream, you can bring the whole damn city down if you want. But you gotta let go, sunshine. Let go, Mikey.” 

I don’t want to I don’t want to I don’t want to I don’t want to! Mikey wailed, clutching at Raph’s jacket with hands that felt like two white-hot points of pure agony, clinging, holding on. If he let go, Leo stayed gone. If he let go, he really didn’t love Leo enough to save him. 

But Raph pressed his cheek to the top of Mikey’s head, and his next breath shuddered in his chest, and he whispered, “I know you don’t want to, I know. But this isn’t gonna save him. You’re just hurting yourself and L—Leo would hate that. He’d tell you to stop.” One hand crept over to cover both of Mikey’s, squeezing them tight. “Come on, big man. It’s okay. Let go.” 

He let go. The magic faded, dropping everything it had picked up back to the tunnel floor with dull thuds. His hands spasmed wildly, grip nonexistent, and Raph just kept holding them as he carried Mikey home. 

Mikey sobbed for the rest of the night, what felt like hours and hours. Raph reverted to turtle sounds when nothing he said seemed to get through, and Donnie crept under the blanket and plastered himself to Mikey’s carapace so that they had “A little citrus sandwich!” Leo would cheer, the silliest and sweetest turtle in the world until Mikey finally cracked a smile. 

His family made him promise not to try again. It’s not worth it, they said, a unified front—and as much as the words hurt Mikey to hear, it must have hurt his siblings and father just as much to say them. We can’t lose anyone else, they were ready to beg, because they didn’t know it was his fault Leo was gone. They didn’t understand how badly he’d failed them all. If they did, they wouldn’t have been so grimly determined to protect Mikey’s life from his own hands. 

It felt like a betrayal at the time, but he understands now. 

It’s not worth it, he thinks, staring at Gio. I can’t lose anyone else, he’s ready to beg. 

But Mikey knows what it looks like when a brother is about to leave. Mikey knows what it feels like when they’re already gone. 

What he doesn’t know is how to love someone well enough to keep them. 

[wileys-russo]

childhood sweethearts (12) II a.russo x reader

playlist one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven

childhood sweethearts (12) II a.russo x reader

"took your time!" you stepped aside as the two taller boys pushed inside making you roll your eyes. "please, come in!" you gestured sarcastically, slamming the door shut behind you. "get off russo." you huffed, smacking away gio's hand as he ruffled the hair you'd just finished doing.

"that was not an hour. that was forty minutes you're lucky i'm ready!" you warned them both, kicking harry's feet off your coffee table with a glare. "forty minutes is an hour in guy time, you'll learn." your brother dismissed with a wave.

"nice place shortstack, teachers salaries must be better than i thought." gio whistled as he wandered around your living room. "not really." you chuckled honestly with a shrug. "she's just good at saving money, squirrels it all away like a little mouse." your brother teased pulling a face.

"i had to! you and lil were always stealing it from me." you shot him a filthy glare as he held his hands up. "you have no evidence of that." he grinned with a wink. "hang on. you're not wearing that are you?" gio narrowed his eyes and pointed at you accusingly.

"yeah. why? whats wrong with it?" you frowned, playing with the hem of your jumper. "it's sky blue!" gio groaned without explaining as your frown deepened. "oh he knows the color wheel! good job buddy." you mocked sarcastically with a clap.

"manchester city are sky blue you idiot. we support arsenal, go find something red!" harry chimed in pointing away as you scoffed. "sorry i didn't know there was a dress code for a football game." you rolled your eyes.

"no it's fine we'll just get you a jersey from the armory. go find a hoodie or something, but not blue!" gio dismissed, shooing you off toward your room. "all this over a stupid fucking football match." you mumbled to yourself as you left, both boys yelling at you for the comment.

"can we go now?" you sighed, gesturing to yourself as the boys nodded, dressed in distressed blue jeans, a black hoodie and a black puffer vest on over the top, harry hauling himself to his feet.

"yes we can now you no longer support the enemy. so are you still allergic to football or have you actually grown up?" gio threw his arm over your shoulder guiding you away as you grabbed your keys, leaving the lights on and locking up.

"oh she's still deathly allergic, pretty sure she thinks the ball is a square." harry grinned as you flipped him off and buckled up, gio immediately beginning a rambling recount of all of the rules and history as harry started the car and you sat in the back with a sigh.

you contemplated texting alessia to let her know you were coming but the first moment your fingers touched the device to pull it from your pocket it was snatched from your hand.

"you're a teacher shortstack you should know better than to have a phone out in class, football school is in session and there will be a test." gio grinned wolfishly dropping your phone into the front console and ignoring your protests to have it back.

the three of you split up as you arrived to the emirates and your eyes almost bugged out of your head at the amount of people wandering around. "they're all here for the match?" you asked in disbelief, harry disappearing to get some food as gio dragged you off to get a jersey, again ignoring your protests.

"yeah! you've clearly been living under a rock if you don't know how big womens football is." the boy chuckled with a shake of his head, the two of you waiting in line. "didn't you literally go to the world cup? and you still can't believe how many people are here?" he laughed as you looked around in awe.

"in my defense the last match of alessia's i attended that wasn’t a world cup semi had about fifty people watching!" you frowned, only making him laugh harder, patting you on the back and shaking his head. "well, times have changed kid." he grinned, again ruffling your hair as you shoved him away and you moved closer in line.

"so. you and my little sister, worked things out then?" gio asked, leaning in to practically whisper at you as you frowned, unsure what he was asking. "please. don't play dumb with me i know you far too well to be fooled by that!" the boy warned with an amused smile as your eyes widened.

"she told you that we..." "yeah. i went to visit her at college a couple of months after she moved, she got quite drunk and babbled everything." gio smiled somewhat sympathetically.

"everything?" "yeah, everything. i had your back though she should have told you her plans and i made sure to let her know how stupid she was to mess everything up." gio shrugged.

"christ did both of our families know?" you huffed with a scowl, forever under the impression your relationship with the striker had been a well kept secret, though as time passed it seemed more and more people had been clued in than you thought.

"not the parents. dunno how they didn't catch on given you and less were hardly subtle, luca and i had our suspicions long before less told me i can promise you that." gio chuckled with a wink making your face heat up as you arrived to the front of the line.

"we're just friends though." you quietly answered his previous question as he gave you a look and nodded, turning toward the cashier with a dazzling smile.

"could i please get a red gunners beanie and a russo home jersey in a size..." he glanced to you clearly waiting an answer as you shrugged cluelessly, never having bought a jersey before. "large." he answered for you and rolled his eyes at how you looked like a fish out of water.

"better too big than too small." he shrugged, pushing you away with a firm shake of his head as you tried to pay, tapping his phone and grabbing the bag with an appreciative smile. "gio!" you hissed with a scowl, punching his arm as he whined and rubbed it.

"a thank you would have sufficed!" he mocked, waving at harry who was wandering about with a confused look a hundred or so metres away.

"put it on we haven't got all day." gio waved impatiently as he handed you the bag and you sighed, stripping off your puffer vest and pulling the jersey on over your hoodie, shrugging the vest back on.

"perfect! now you at least look the part even if you're still as clueless about football as a newborn baby." the boy grinned, yanking the beanie down on top of your head and spinning you around. "i have not missed you." you grumbled as he smacked away your hand from pulling off the beanie.

"aw my little sister in law i love you too." he pinched your cheeks as the two of you caught up to harry, your face going almost as red as your beanie as you were squished between both boys. "did you not get me anything?" you poked your brother accusingly as he handed gio some food but not you.

"you didn't ask for any!" he defended as you all squished into an elevator. "you didn't ask me if i wanted any." you rolled your eyes at his thought process, tuned out by the rumble in the elevator.

"they sometimes have food in the box." gio shrugged as your head whipped toward him and the doors opened, the boy gesturing for you to step out. "the box?" you questioned with a suspicious frown.

"friends and family box." harry answered with a grin, the pair of you following after gio. "he comes with me and luca sometimes." gio answered with a chuckle before you could even ask.

"most of the time mum and dad or some of the extended family come too but they've got some swanky lunch they can't get out of." he shrugged, handing you and harry a lanyard as you only nodded, at a loss for words.

having gotten over your initial shock and now settled in your seats waiting for the match to begin you nodded as both harry and gio seated either side of you attempted to debrief you on everything they felt you needed to know for the game.

you of course were still clueless, focused more on trying to spot alessia as they lined up for the team photos, noting her right away as you hummed, gio and harry sharing a look over your head and rolling their eyes.

it wasn't until half time when you felt like you could finally exhale, a familiar but unwelcome sensation settling in your stomach, worry.

this match had been particularly aggressive, yellow cards hardly in short stock as you winced every time alessia's body went tumbling down onto the pitch, just like you used to all those years ago when you watched her you still worried.

you accepted the drink from gio as he returned with a grateful smile, the older boy just chuckling at the blatant worry in your eyes. "she's fine! she's a big girl she can take a tackle or too, and dish them out." he assured you as you nodded, falling into conversation with harry about lily's upcoming baby shower.

your panic came in a different form the second half, the score locked 1-1 with only injury time remaining you bounced your knee anxiously amusing both boys either side of you who hadn't hesitated to tease you all match about it.

you held your breath as again alessia went down, this time not getting back up as a few of her team mates waved for the medics and she slowly sat up, your grip on your cup tightening.

"hey, she's okay." your brother noticed your discomfort and squeezed your knee, draping his free arm over your shoulder.

"this is sort of insane." you breathed out, having been taken aback all match by the chants and passion of the spectators filling out the stadium, all 59,000+ of them which sent your brain spinning. "yeah next match we'll teach you some chants!" gio grinned, nudging you with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

"or at least alessia's. she'll be horribly offended if you don't know her chant at least!" harry chipped in, both boys clearly doing their best to distract you as alessia was looked over by the medics.

you exhaled as finally she got back to her feet rewarded with a thundering cheer from the supporters, a free kick given for the poor tackle as the stadium exploded in support.

"speaking of!" harry laughed as alessia's name echoed around the pitch. you shook your head with a smile of utter disbelief, you knew she was clearly famous you weren't that naive, but seeing how many people were yelling her name with a clap had your heart bursting with pride.

"so less doesn't have to take the kick right, and they can get their players in front of the ball?" you questioned for clarification as harry nodded, explaining roughly how it would work and what arsenal would try to do to force man city to concede.

you held your breath as two of the arsenal girls lined up for the kick, watching as alessia was shoved and pushed around, repeatedly yanking away hands and arms which jostled and poked at her.

you watched frozen to your seat as the kick was sent in, a mad panic exploding in the box as a flurry and fight of heads, limbs and feet flailed around to try and make contact.

then finally there was a swish as the ball hammered the back of the net, the whistle blew and the stadium exploded.

"oh my god!" your eyes almost bugged at of your head as alessia sprinted away from the goal with her hands in the air, tackled to the ground by her team as you jumped up to your feet alongside nearly every single person in the stadium, cheering loud and proud for the blonde.

"she's still got it." you grinned at gio who laughed and nodded, shoving your head playfully as alessia was announced as the goal scorer and the crowd went mental at a replay of her goal.

"now they just need to park the bus for six minutes." harry whistled, turning and explaining to you right away what he meant before you even had to ask, the three of you settling back into your seats.

you weren't sure quite how but you were near certain you didn't breath for those next six minutes, your eyes widening in shock as with three to go alessia was shown a yellow card and walked off with a roll of her eyes.

"told you she gives as good as she gets sometimes short stack!" gio beamed, full of pride only making you chuckle quietly. "you'd know, she used to beat you up!" you teased the boy who shushed you and pulled the beanie down over your eyes.

you finally let out a deep exhale as the full time whistle sounded, the crowd erupting into cheers of victory as you watched alessia do her laps of the pitch clapping the fans.

"she'll be a fair while, she'll sign some stuff and go shower then come up." gio explained as you all returned inside the box to escape the cold, the weather well and truly taking a turn for the worst as thunder started to rumble in the far off distance.

meanwhile alessia had finally returned to the locker room, unable to wipe the smile off her face as she laughed and sang along to the music leah had blasting all around.

"hey less did your brother get a girlfriend? ben said he was all over some girl he brought with him to the box." beth laughed as alessia pulled a face, grabbing her slides out from her cubby and tying her wet hair up into a bun.

"no? that would be news to me." the blonde frowned with a shrug, shoving her belongings into her bag, now one of the last ones left. though sure enough as she tiredly made her way into the box flanked by vic and kyra her frown returned seeing her brothers arm draped over a girl, both of them with their backs facing her.

but right before she could reach them the girl spoke and shrugged his arm off, making a beeline for the toilet as alessia charged toward her brother. "did you bring a girl to my game and not tell me you were seeing someone!" she accused with an annoyed frown poking at his chest.

"did i what?" he laughed in disbelief, an annoyingly smug grin curling on his lips as he realized where his sisters thoughts were. "yeah actually i brought a little date!" he grinned, knowing the moment you returned everything would fall into place for the striker.

"gio!" alessia huffed punching him in the arm, temporarily distracted as a few of the girls and their family members wandered over and pulled her into conversation. "those bathrooms are so nice!" you marveled, your brother pushing you away as you shoved your hands into his face demanding he smell how good the soap smelled.

gio smirked as at the sound of your voice alessia spun right around, ignoring the questions fired toward her by the small group of people she was with as she finally noticed you, smacking about your brother as he wrapped you into a choke hold.

"i never said who the little date was for." gio smirked as he appeared at alessia's side, the blondes cheeks flushing bright red as she hurried to smooth her jumper out, suddenly wishing she'd made an effort with her hair.

"go on lovergirl, she's even wearing your jersey. you're welcome!" gio whispered, pushing her in your direction as she stumbled slightly and shot him a filthy look over her shoulder.

catching gio's eye harry let go of you and pushed you away, shooting over to the other boys side before you could tell him off, turning around and practically running into a body.

"you're here!" was all alessia managed to get out with wide eyes as you nodded. "i didn't know you were coming." she added on with a nervous smile, shifting her bag on her shoulder.

"not of my own free will. thing one and thing two kidnapped me!" you pointed to your brothers over her shoulder, not missing the strange look which crossed the taller girls face.

"hey, less i'm only joking. you had a great game!" you were quick to make amends, hoping your comment hadn't rubbed her the wrong way. "that volley? class!" you complimented, the blondes lips curling into a surprised grin.

"well well well, look whose been studying her football jargon." alessia teased, nerves melting away as you bumped her with your shoulder and a playful roll of your eyes as the two of you chattered away, everyone else in the room ceasing to exist as you only had eyes for one another.

"i see old habits die hard. will you ever learn?" you sighed dramatically, reaching a hand up to tuck away a loose strand of wet hair out of her eyes. "when have i ever listened to you?" alessia smirked, you having forever warned her against not drying her hair or at least leaving it out.

the two of you so engrossed in conversation alessia failed to notice a few of her friends eyeing the two of you off, laura and leah looking especially pleased as they gave the two of you some space, just sending you a friendly wave from a distance which you returned.

alessia also failed to notice a few of them creeping closer, jolted out of the little bubble with you as an arm slung around her waist with a squeeze. "hello!" vic addressed you as kyra and teyah appeared on alessia's other side and she withheld a groan.

"and who is this?" the dutch girl smirked as alessia shot her daggers briefly. "this is my..." she struggled for a moment giving you a glance. "my y/n." she answered awkwardly, wishing the ground would swallow her up as she shot kyra and teyah a firm glare at their giggles.

"well hello lessi's y/n. pleasure to meet you! i am lessi's vic, this is lessi's kyra and lessi's teyah." vic beamed as you couldn't help but laugh, alessia shoving vics arm away and moving to stand protectively by your side as the three younger girls all began to speak at you.

"oi! lay off she's not a performing monkey." alessia warned, hand settling on the small of your back as you struggled to keep up with the three different accents, lines of conversations and questions. thankfully leah noticed and swooped in, quickly ushering away the three troublemakers as alessia mouthed a thank you.

"they seem fun." you grinned up at the blonde who groaned quietly. "that's one word for them." she sighed. "seem to remind me of a certain outgoing outspoken loud mouthed young striker." you paused to look away contemplatively as alessia cracked a smile, harry and gio joining the two of you, the tall girls hand remaining on the small of your back.

"hey how did you get here?" alessia asked as the boys ducked off to use the toilet, the box clearing out. "i told you, kidnapped!" you teased, alessia's stomach clenching strangely as you smiled up at her and her knees went a bit wobbly.

"would you like to come over for dinner? i'll cook." alessia asked before she could talk herself out of it, nervously playing with the strap of the bag still slung over her shoulder.

"are you asking me on a date?" you asked quietly, smile growing at the slight blush which coated alessia's cheeks. "yeah. is that okay? or we can do something else!" she breathed out, corners of her mouth curling upward as she rocked back and forth on her heels.

"dinner sounds lovely." you agreed, trying to ignore the butterflies swooping and diving around in your stomach as alessia seemed to relax a little. "i'm gonna get a ride back with less." you spoke up as the boys returned, the four of you falling into conversation for a bit before parting ways.

"uhh, stay here for a second. please!" alessia stopped you suddenly after taking you down the back of the stadium, disappearing around a corner as you crossed your arms and waited, eyes roaming the photos of past teams and their victories on the wall.

"okay!" you jumped as alessia suddenly returned, the blonde apologizing with an amused smile nodding for you to follow her again. she lead you out to the back lot, having moved her car away from prying eyes where a few fans were still hanging about.

she wasn't quite ready to have to explain that aspect of her job to you just yet.

"nice jersey, your favorite player?" alessia grinned as the two of you arrived to her place, parking out the front as you rolled your eyes. "don't flatter yourself your brother bought it and forced me into it, and this!" you gestured to the beanie on top of your head which alessia found absolutely adorable.

"ouch, my poor ego!" the blonde sighed dramatically clutching at her chest as you rolled your eyes. "it could use the humbling. we've got, lessi russo! we've got-" you clapped as alessia's cheeks went red and she shoved you mumbling for you to shut up.

"we might need to sprint for it, my umbrella's in the boot." she shifted tones, the rain now hammering down against her car as you hummed in agreement.

"on three?" you nodded as both your hands hovered by the door handles. "three!" alessia announced as you both flung your doors open and made a dash for it, your laughter lost into the mid afternoon air as alessia almost sent herself flying down her stairs.

the two of you collapsed into one another laughing once you were in the safety of her front porch. "whose got wet hair now!" alessia teased tugging your beanie down over your eyes and scrambling for her keys.

"might have to bin this jersey since its all wet, shame." you yanked off the beanie and tousled your hair with your hand, stepping out of your soaking wet shoes as alessia slipped out of her slides both pairs left by the door.

"i can get you another one, even sign it for you if you like." she winked making you roll your eyes as she wasted no time pulling off her sopping wet jumper and gesturing you do the same. "mmm would up the resell value for ebay. have you got a pen handy?" you teased.

"do you want a shower?" the blonde offered kindly, biting her lip to stifle her laughter at both of your soaking wet states. "just some dry clothes if you don't mind." you replied with a somewhat shy smile, alessia nodding and sprinting off before you could say another word.

she returned mere seconds later, a pair of joggers and a hoodie in hand, nodding for you to change and give her your wet clothes so she could put them in the dryer. as the bathroom door closed with a click alessia went into panic mode, racing around her house tidying as well as she could in the small window of time she had to do so.

you couldn't help but inhale once you were changed, now drowned in the familiar smell of your ex girlfriend, though for once it wasn't accompanied with a weird stab of guilt, you allowing yourself to just enjoy the sense of safety and comfort which settled on your shoulders.

what alessia hadn't anticipated was you exiting the bathroom right as she rushed past with a basket piled high of dirty washing she intended to hide, her body slamming into yours and sending the two of you to the ground and her laundry into the air.

"i'm so sorry!" her face paled as she winced and gently peeled off her training shirt from where it had landed on your head, the two of you buried in a mountain of her dirty clothes as alessia wished the ground could swallow her up.

"if this is a way of you telling me to do your washing for you, you could have just asked!" you laughed and rolled off of her, alessia relaxing a little at your reaction, quick to her feet and helping you up to yours.

"two minutes." the striker promised still red with embarrassment, hurrying to shove her clothes back into the basket, grabbing your wet ones from the bathroom floor and darting off into the laundry, yelling out for you to help yourself to anything in the kitchen.

alessia took a moment once her washing was safely in the machine and your clothes in the dryer to collect herself, gripping the bench and taking a few deep breaths, nodding firmly and exiting the room.

an affectionate smile curled onto her lips to see you sat up at the island bench of her kitchen, your legs just a little too short to touch the ground you'd tucked one beneath you and were absentmindedly swinging the other to and from.

alessia would be lying if she didn't something settled over her which could have maybe been described as a sense of possessiveness seeing you sat in her house in her clothes once again. though she quickly tried to shake that off, giving herself a firm reminder the two of you were taking things slow and you were far from being hers anymore.

the large black adidas hoodie she'd given you to change into was big on alessia so it hung down to your mid thigh, and the blonde grinned in amusement seeing you'd had to roll and cuff up the ends of the joggers given her legs were a fair bit longer than yours.

"so whats on the menu chef russo?" you smiled sending her stomach into knots again as she joined you in the kitchen. "what do you feel like?" alessia questioned, washing her hands and rolling up the sleeves of her jumper with a raised eyebrow.

"anything. just no pineapple!" you teased, alessia laughing dryly and flicking water at you from her wet hands before wiping them on a tea towel. "pasta?" you nodded happily.

"just no tomatoes." alessia now teased your own eating habits as you mocked her and pulled a face. "wait, from scratch?" your eyebrows shot up in surprise as alessia breezed around the kitchen pulling out ingredients.

"obviously. did you forget i am italian!" she grinned and you smiled softly seeing her tie an apron around her waist, resisting the temptation to tease her for it and instead settling for enjoying how cute it was that she had one handy.

"half italian." you reminded earning yourself a glare and a middle finger in your direction as a cutting board and knife appeared on the bench in front of you. "make yourself useful would you." alessia smirked, placing down some peppers, onions and carrots on the board and tugging playfully on your ear.

"you know typically when you ask someone on a date and offer to cook them dinner, you don't force them to be your sous chef!" you shook your head but rolled up the sleeves of alessia's hoodie.

"aw you think you're at a sous chef level, that's adorable babe." it was a simple slip up, so much to the point alessia didn't even clock what she'd said but you did, your face burning bright red as you focused your energy into prepping the vegetables as she busied herself making dough.

the two of you fell into conversation about your upcoming weeks, alessia filling you in on her training schedule and commitments as you explained your lesson planning, both of you hanging off the others words, fully engaged in making an effort to show your sincere interest in what the other had to say.

"only you would just casually have things laying about to make pasta from scratch on a sunday night!" you grinned, now stood by the stove keeping an eye on the sauce at alessia's request. "if its not better than anything you've made pre-made i'll retire tomorrow." alessia challenged confidently, moving to take her hoodie off leaving her in joggers and a singlet, not wanting to get flour all over herself.

you wrenched your eyes away from her bare arms as she expertly kneaded the dough, muscles flexing as you turned back to the sauce, stirring it occasionally as a comfortable silence fell between the two of you.

"come here." you glanced up to see alessia wipe away a few small beads of sweat on her forehead, nodding for you to join her. she leaned over and flipped the stove top to the lowest heat it could so the sauce wouldn't burn.

"a pasta making lesson with a real life italian? should be charging." you teased as alessia demonstrated how to fold and roll out the dough, shaping it into spirals melting you a little as she made a point to note she knew they'd been your favorite growing up.

"christ you make this look easy." you credited her as you struggled with the dough, tensing up a little as you felt her body settle in behind you, her front pressed to your back as her bare arms wound around you.

"like this, push with your palms." she murmured, maneuvering your hands with hers on top as she helped you to roll out the dough and shape it like she'd shown. you thought once you started to get the hang of it she might move away but she stayed pressed against you.

"is this okay?" she checked quietly as her hands settled on your waist and her chin rested on your shoulder and you nodded, a little lost for words as waves of emotions you refused to overthink crashed into you, alessia starting to very gently sway the two of you.

"perfect!" the blonde beamed proudly as you finished rolling out and shaping your half of the dough. "had a decent teacher i guess." you smiled, craning your head back to gently kiss her cheek as alessia's hairs stood on end and she pushed herself away from you, moving to quickly finish off her half of the dough as you returned to the sauce.

on her orders you had a pot of water waiting to boil, leaving the sauce to thicken on low as you moved to watch her finish off the pasta. "do you want a pro tip?" alessia smiled as you nodded, gesturing for her continue.

"always flour your board." you gasped as her finger reached out and rubbed flour all over your nose, the taller girl grinning clearly quite pleased with herself. not even waiting to speak your hand darted out into the leftover flour, your hand pressing against her cheek leaving a white hand mark on the side of her face.

that seemed to open the floodgates as you chased one another around the island flicking and smacking flour against one another until alessia called for a truce, wincing at the flour which now coated her once clean floors.

however as the two of you retreated back toward the stove in typical alessia fashion, she slipped.

"less!" you cried out as she grabbed out for you to steady herself, instead taking you down with her, your body landing on top of hers as you both groaned.

"i'm beginning to think you do this on purpose now!" you tutted, hint of a smile on your lips. hyper aware of her large hands resting on your back an odd sense of deja vu settled over the pair of you, neither of you paying attention to anything than one another when you suddenly found yourself admiring and studying over ever little feature of her face, alessia doing the exact same.

just like clockwork the longer you maintained eye contact the smaller and smaller the room seemed to become, alessia's eyes flickering down to your lips just for a fleeting second.

"would it be too fast if i kissed you again?" the girl whispered, eyes still locked with yours as you gave a small shake of your head. "please." was all you managed to breathe out.

your hand moved to brush a few strands of her golden blonde hair out of her face, leaning in ever so slowly.

just like last time your hands moved to tangle in her hair now brushed out and dry again, and in turn alessia's own hands came to rest on either side of your face, thumbs tracing soft circles on your jaw, ever so gently guiding your mouth within millimeters of her own.

you both sighed as your lips met, the kiss slow and calculated and tender. alessia kissed you like you were made of glass, terrified that one wrong move and you'd break, her lips soft and inviting as they moved against yours.

you parted your own slightly as her teeth ever so gently tugged at your bottom lip, her tongue slipping into your mouth as the kiss became just a little less sweet.

though you hissed and pulled away at the feeling of something burning your neck, the blonde underneath yours eyes widening as she tightened her hold on your face and sat up taking you with her.

"what's wrong? was that too much? too fast? i'm so sorry." she rambled out, chest heaving with worry as you were quick to shake your head. "i think something bit me!" you gently moved her hands off your face and turned your head, moving your hair out of the way as alessia frowned and glanced at your neck.

but everything suddenly made sense as she heard a strange noise and looked up to the stove, realizing exactly what had happened.

"shit the water's over boiled!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

thirteen

our cute little lovers seemingly all happy but will it last?

what do we think is going to happen? what do you want to see happen?

[bijouxcarys]

Reina de mi Corazón [TEASER] (Damian Priest x fem!reader)

Main Masterlist

Description: She's the light of his life, the itch he can't scratch, and perhaps never will.

Notes: Please be gentle, this is my first time writing Damian and it was just sitting in my notes app on my phone so here you go lol. It's a short one, but I still hope it's okay!

Tagging: @thefairywithboots @eringobragh420 (let me know if you want to be tagged in any future Damian works I may do)

A chest so wide her palm could walk across it a full four times before it covered the expanse. Ink etched into caramel skin so beautiful Mick Rock would need to adopt a whole new method just to capture its essence. Her fingers itched to trace the grooves of his body, the taut planes of his torso—carved from obsidian and bronze. A man whose physique withstood the passage of centuries. Muscles rippling beneath the ink mapping his sinuous path of past lives. Ink so black it swallowed light, swirling like the last whispers of a forgotten prayer.

“Mi vida,” he grumbled as his calloused fingertips grazed beneath the hem of her shirt. “Tan suave…”

An impatient whimper fell from her lips, her hands remained splayed on his biceps. Keeping him at a distance neither of them really wanted. 

“No corras, mi amor.” His lips teased her temple, a singular inhale allowing her scent to overwhelm him. New shampoo.

“Damian,” she managed to whisper, squeezing his sinewy arms in yet another pathetic attempt at separation. It didn’t seem to matter how many times she told him she only understood a fraction of what he spoke in that bewitching native tongue of his, he would always do it. Of course he would, she loved it.

Nevertheless, he lifted his head, gazing down at the woman in his arms with a hooded glance. Even under such subdued lighting and uneven ground, the swaying of the bus prohibiting a stable view, he just looked so… irresistible. A black Killswitch Engage shirt, obviously a tad too small, hair pulled up into a loose bun, those blue jeans he basked in whenever he got the chance. Rings on. Every. Finger.

“You spend so much time tellin’ me why you can’t.”

“Because I can’t.”

Sighing, he angled his head to the side, bringing a hand up to cup the side of her face, the cold metal of his endearing accessories bringing her back from melting completely into his hold. She was so hyper-aware of his proximity, of the others’ proximity.

“Claro, qué sí...”

“Damian–”

He quickly shut her up just by sliding his hand down to the back of her neck, his thumb massaging just behind her ear. There was no way she could resist laying her head back against the wall behind her.

Lips feathered her forehead, the intoxicating aroma of Aqua di Gio forcing her thighs together, down to her nose, her cheek, the corner of her mouth.

“You know I’ll stop if that’s what you really want, cariño.” Their hips met in one motion as his free hand gripped onto her lower back, careening her toward him. Finally, she felt the expanse of his chest, just as tough as she remembered it being, the shirt may as well have not been there. A smirk tugged at his lips, a deep chuckle rumbling from the back of his throat as her smaller hands clung to his shoulders.

“But you don’t want that, ¿verdad?”

Swallowing down the dryness that threatened to encompass her ability to utter a single word, she trembled under his touch, wanting nothing more than this gorgeous, hulking 6’5” leviathan to take her to another realm. Make her forget her name. Her birthday. Where she was. 

“N-No…” she finally admitted, meekly shaking her head.

“Then why don’t you just surrender to it, baby? It can’t harm you unless you let it.” Her lip was gently tugged downward with the pad of his thumb, only to bounce back against her teeth. “Dios mío, extraño esa boca,” he muttered, breathing in sharply through his nose.

“It’s not that easy,” she answered, glancing down at his lips as his tongue traced them like a water-starved lion. “You know it’s not that easy.”

They both knew it wasn’t so easy, and each time they acknowledged that fact, the magic faded. Every. Time. In a perfect world, surrendering to the Archer of Infamy would be the easiest thing one could ever do. But it wasn’t their world, and it wasn’t so perfect.

“I know,” Damian relented, but maintained his grip on her. “But you know it as well as I do.” He sighed her name, leaving one lingering kiss directly on her lips to hold onto until next time. “You’ll always be mine. Reina de mi Corazón.”

TRANSLATIONS Mi vida - My life/term of endearment Tan suave - So soft No corras, mi amor - No running, sweetheart/my love Claro, qué sí - Yes, you can Cariño - Sweetheart/love/term of endearment ¿Verdad? - Right?/No? Dios mío, extraño esa boca - My God, I miss that mouth Reina de mi Corazón - Queen of my Heart