#hey i posted the fic before april ended

[astralnymphh]

The Sweeter the Wheat

# pair: post-seattle!jackson!ellie x reader

## summary: There is no better birthday gift than loving her.

### reader discretion is advised: romance angst, fluff, bit suggestive towards the end, alcohol consumption, jesse is alive (he thought ahead this time), loser!ellie, sometimes!awkward!ellie, sometimes!cheekyandflirty!ellie, reader is sickenly envious and a bit nosy, but aware, ravenous and tipsy makeouts, sappy shit. #### a/n; listened to "to all of you" by syd matters + "cardigan" by taylor swift while writing parts of it.. got a love/hate relationship with this fic but it slaps i guess

WC: 7.7k+ | DON'T BUY TLOU | PALESTINE MASTERPOST | MASTERLIST | ART BY @trackinglessons | DISCORD SERVER

SPRING SUN

 

 “At least we got back before her birthday. Psh—‘magine that sweet tooth havin’ to commemorate her twentieth with nuts and jerky.”

Jackson tholes the bright spring against countless heavy hearts, numb from the death groans of winter. Under the melted snow, came old meadows, but nobody returned to comb through them. Only to pluck them bare of flora for a sole reason—a sole person—and not in the name of beauty. 

Some meadows were stabbed through. Pierced into, made into a final home for the dearly departed he.

Time slipped slowly.

“Huh?”

Jesse sits at the tail of the bar, mumbling somethings that fly right past your ears. The diner is packed and the jukebox softly plays, but that of joy and conversation rules, so all nearby speech that is spat has become hodgepodge, herding your brain to run where the world is quiet. Given that, and the subtle significance in the day around you, you feel less than yourself. Immaterial.

There's a rightful wager that you didn't hear Jesse at all. Something about birthdays, maybe.

You pull yourself from the stars with a head-shake, having to retire the tiny notepad in your clutch. “Sorry, I completely tripped out just then. Why are we talking about birthdays—whose birthday are we.. talking about?”

Jesse appeared to be in doubt that your star-scaping moments were over; his features contorting more and more into disbelief as you gave him that barely curious squint. Poor him for having to be offended for somebody else.

A special somebody else at that!

His drawl comes in handy, “Come on, man. Four years strong and now you wanna forget that girl's birthday?” a voice so versed in pettiness, you could smack it right from his clever, grinning lips.

At whim, you almost do. But then his words fall into perfect place; that subtle signifigance makes all the more sense.

Spring: dappled in sunlight and vigorous in the trees, seems lovelier than it would in March or May. Seas of crimson and clovers thrive in the middle of April, and so does the red in her hair—soft, auburn tines—and the meadows in her earnest and shiny eyes. Recently dim, bruised and disheartened. But there, and unplucked at least, above the freckles you least regret missing when vengeance and a clue drove her out of this large, timber sanctuary. Home.

Every year on this day, the sun is relentlessly beautiful. No wonder, you think, now that you remember.

It's Ellie's birthday.

“Shit,” you curse, chewing at your guilty lip. “Is Ellie hiding out today as well? Haven't noticed her walking the thoroughfare at all.” Through the idle-talk, your hands find stray porcelain to retrieve and pile in the sink, scoffing at the liters of coffee that inevitably go cold in forgotten mugs.

“Do you notice anything working behind that counter?”

“Duh, dipshit,” you spout, back-talking him shamelessly, “I noticed you ambling towards the window earlier and knew my ears were in for a grating punishment.” Minding your eyes on nothing but the various plates you grab, the clutter clears fast. Like a damn robot.

He raises his hands in defense. “Hey, not my fault patrol’s been on cruise control this week.” With a part of the counter graciously tidied by your speedy work, he reclines in the barstool and claims that space with his lower legs, off to the side. Blissfully permission-less. “Can't say the same for here, though.” 

You draw in a prefacing breath, tilting a cup at him. “You could if you hel—”

“No chance.”

“Fuck you, Jess,” you reply wielding a nickname given for occasions of defeat, little knives glaring from your eyes. “Thought this friendship had a no-questions-asked sort of thing. You've disgraced me.” Cueing that age-old love for drama, you gild the lily; mock a drama-queen. Hand to your heart and a pout to your mouth.

Hating Jesse is out of the picture, and hate is an easy pill to swallow. Sure, you two bark blank insults from time to time, but it's all in good humor. You just get each other too well. A hitch fated to click. A shoulder to violently sob into.

Jesse tuts at you, rolling a smug pair of eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Diners just aren't my thing, as infected aren't yours.” He reaches and grasps his mug of coffee that'd been basking there ever since you whipped up his usual, content in keeping his gob flat for the ‘noon.

And you're content in the casual peace and company. Always are. It coerces you to fulfill orders quicker, you would say. Here you stand, in perfect function, machine of the cogs.

That's how all days streak by here. A warm sun arises, and the hustle and bustle of human nature crowds every faded red booth in here, as your kin would have you sustain, and you sustain it fine enough. Even with the latching, mostly silent presence of your best bud Jesse to keep boredom a stranger and insanity a myth. Peckish lips, thirsty throats; everybody. All famished faces of Jackson, satisfied in the wake of your work. All, save one. 

Ding!

At the entrance, you hear the jingle of the tiny, golden bell topping the door, and it doesn't intrigue you to investigate. Everyone is a frequenter, and you're basically omnipresent; sensing who it is and where they're routed to before they even sit. Call that perfect function.

Abruptly, the vintage magazine Jesse blankly browsed through is smacked back in place, and his throat clears. “First customer to break the hour-long streak. Let's see who—” he trails, and a dramatic pause thickens the air. Surprise loudly ensues. “Oh, ain't that funny. Look what fate dragged in.”

“Is it not a regular?” you ask, and at last perk your chin up. Intrigue clasps you now, as Jesse thought it atypical enough to point out. 

Turns out, it isn't a regular at all.

Fate was a scary portrayal, as fate—and unfinished threads—would have you snuck into a corner and stranded for her to find. Plaid and blue, stood Ellie, lost as a doe in tangled woods, yet tall with purpose in front of that swinging glass door. From here, you notice her right arm supported in a white sling and twisted into her chest, right off the bat, as you did the night of return. Changes were made, obviously, sprigs of marker detailing the canvas-color of it, no doubt produced by those pesky kids in-town. Her tattoo is sorely invisible behind the bandages too; you've always liked that thing. 

She's a bona-fide crush. A red-headed angel.

There and then, you recall why your heart reawoke into a prance that night she returned head to toe in dry, aged blood. You felt the revival of an inner-warmth, tracing fingers over the stitches in her back as she hunched in repressive quietude. Felt the moon evaporate off your skin, felt her wrist tensen in your palm as you dressed the wounds in hers. Felt the elusive moment staying became going, as it wasn't right.

You went straight home and threw right up, that very night. Her cold, marred skin was as deathly-like as the skin of a corpse. And you trailed your fingertips, all over it. 

Strange. In a week, her flesh has been suppled of life. Hale, blushing and glowing as in younger days.

In your heart: a tremor. It reaches up every time you swallow, and blooms its beat, pounding at the pit of your throat. You don't feel real, you feel light, you feel fright. You feel the past, waking from a slumber in you, emerging breathless beyond the surface. So many things.

You feel fourteen again.

“Guess her ears were burning,” mumbled Jesse, polite enough to not transform your shared scrutiny into a scene, only so he could leave it in your hands. His head carefully turns, speaking softly, “You spoke to her at all, recently?” 

“No,” a weighted breath departs you, and your shoulders repose. “Only the night she returned, while I tended to some of her travel wounds. Conversation wasn't easy to digest.” Shunning her very blatant presence, you pick your wash rag and begin again, foraging distraction.

“Bet not. Shit got hectic on the route Tommy picked,” he hums, and his eyes pursue once more to secretly follow her walking the opposite direction. Eyes you expectantly the second she slips into a booth. “Gonna take her order?”

You glower at his smug stare, knowing full well he intends to badger you into jumping the gun. Well, you're employed to do that, but, fuck fate! “Uh, duh? Di—”

“—Ipshit. Stop stalling.” He aims his hand, escorting you. “Birthday girl awaits.” 

“Yeah, hold that smile. See what happens later.”

“Mhm.”

EXTRA SYRUP

 Spectral hands suffocate your heart, and now your chest is tightened. Gut nervously sickened. There, she sits, seemingly absorbed by the air, and the sun that ripens with it. Thumbing at her nails, but not anxiously. Blowing at her lip, but not boredly. Hair dark ochre as the earth, yet fiery as the flaxen ray that pours into it. Tucked into a neat bun, as it was in December, January, and every paving year before. You like her hair that way.

She halved it up when Joel passed, and Seattle howled her name. 

A lot about Ellie changed, really, but that is the perennial nature of water. Ellie is Neptune; a late-teenage girl experiencing a crucial shift into a new, individual season. Ones so seldom—they're cataclysmic, but temporary. 

So much of her is eclipsed to the naked eye. Buried to make burrowing space for others. Just not you, it seems.

Every now and then, she glances as you intricately work your way over, a fist cupped to itself as if it alone safekeeps her deep and untold intentions; the warrant for sitting there. And you too, glance when her eyes smoothly retreat, dedicating pockets of this single, cherished minute to drink in little glimpses of her face. Trying to read her, read the shapes on her face if they indicate trouble, or truce. Last time you talked, you declared your resentment for being left worried and sleepless in Jackson.

Was it out of love?

Through the fair-haired light, that scar-heavy look on her features has noticeably abated, recapturing the tender warmth that gave her face the kind, puppy-browed ambiance you hesitated the world for. Gently laid brows, scarred the same as ever.

Those fucking freckles, too; a constellated map. Hidden miles and miles away for one sun and moon too many. 

Not a mile bridges you both apart now, not anymore.

“Hey, Ellie,” you chime in, frail in respect of the one-mind conversation her idle stare partakes. Just her, and the spring sun. Sweet wheat skin is taken from its aerial shine as her head heeds your voice, a loose twine of auburn falling from place.

Your somber greeting fine-tuned the focus in her eyes, softening into a shape less spacious, more devoted.

And though away from underneath the boughs of sunlight, her eyes found a disembodied source. Dried moss, gleams into a violent sea glass, pupils taking in how you hold that notepad firm in thumbs and pointers.

For the first time in an age, you too, have changed.

The corners of her lips crease into her cheek. “Hey,” her reply mirrors the breathiness of yours, and her left arm low-arcs up to rest on the booth seat, body facing you head-on. Totally relaxed. “How come you didn't mention the job switch? Was lookin’ for you,” she asks curiously, a tinge of that sweet-talk peeking through her wide grin. 

Now that you've stepped closer and garnered her attention, you can see and feel every notched nicety of her face on yours. You can only imagine how a swollen, sliced lip feels, and the continual migraines a fractured nose brings. Weeks of healing have swept by, but her afflictions in particular weren't petty.

“Guess it felt irrelevant to bring up when you got back. But you're here now, and you found me. So?” your tone edges on.

“Well, yeah,” she chuckles. “Did you not miss me?” She feigns offense; brows quirking and her tone pitching slightly.

You did. 

A sigh starts in you, “Hard to not miss and worry for somebody when you picked up their slack in every patrol dating way back.” Barely nipping what you really felt with a snarky tease. “Oh shit, that rhymes,” you glance off and whisper to yourself, still loud enough to inspire mirth.

And it does; her forehead pinches and her voice rises in mirth, laughing casually and shifting in her seat to lean one elbow upon the table. “Ha— yeah,” she admits defeat. Ellie is undeniably cute when she does, always shrinks into herself and sinks into thoughtful conference, thinking of something—anything smart to knock you back into that corner. “Guess you're right. Hm, always were on my ass about that, huh?” 

You tut, “Mhm. Missed my scolding in Seattle?” crossing a leg and bearing weight upon it.

“Nah,” she confesses briefly, and you barely believe it. Wringing in doubt at that sly smile she tries to conceal from you. “I learned my lesson this time.” Ellie glances up, a prayer written on her face asking you to hold your scolds. “Trust me.”

“Hurt enough this time?”

“Fuck you!” She punts you playfully in the ankle and begins a laugh again. “You’re not allowed to point that out!”

That was the way of things; Ellie would charge into a fight wearing her life on her chest, slackening the rules, and you had to reel her in. Tug the leash. It had you suspecting her to have a foolproof reason as her backbone, like she was daring the devil with eyes fearlessly open. Steadfast intent. She would lure runners to her, grapple them from you, or push you away beyond safety. Leave you to watch an animalistic vigor fill every bind in her body until you're convinced she’s either coming out bitten or scathingly torn.

You wish she saw how worrying she truly looked; a sweet face splattered hair to chin in the blood of infected, catching her breath and shaking the arm of the croaking infected she just slaughtered off her ankle. Being way too blithe-hearted for the sacred sake of everyone involved.

“Don't worry about me.”

One day, when she asked you with her solemn eyes to be afraid, you thought she finally trusted you to handle yourself past her overprotective nature. Then, one clicker got too close for comfort, and she retracted the pact of fighting equally. Losing more than what her blade owes the earth would prove her fears to be a product of her unsacrifice.

Ellie figured it was half the reason you quit patrol duty, but not that it was fully the reason you anguished over her leaving for Seattle later on; her appetite for violence.

She accepts it so easily. But even when you had sworn she had place in something as simple as retiring from patrol and nothing else, she smelt the sugary scent of a white lie. Joel did it before. She never accepted it under a gentle radar. Instead, it had her wondering if she had upset you, if you would forgive the crimson melodrama and still take her up on breakfasts at ten when she returned. Regardless if you painted the full picture in the end, apologies spilled alike to winded waters out of this girl; sorry that she still could not stomach you tagging along for vengeance. Never-ending sorries, and you lapped each one up. Brought gaping arms around her and absorbed all the ugly and hopeless sounds. You wanted to prove her fears wrong, but perhaps it was time fear let you be the lamb. Live and let live.

Then, Dina would step in, and Ellie would be wrapped around her finger in sudden laughter. Happy and unhurt. Couldn't even remember what occurred before her sun entered the room, and dried those tears.

Crimson melodrama is all you preserved when abandoned, and is all you could look at her with when in longing.

The winter dance had your guts up to your throat.

Seattle, inexplainable.

You don’t hate Dina; your envy lies with the disconnection of it all.

“What do you recommend?” she questions, and her eyes anticipate you to be the ultimate apocalyptic-dining expert. Locked and attentive. She then begins to shake her head in gesture, planting the menu down. "I don't— I don't usually go to these kinds of places, so.. What do you think?" she awkwardly giggles, tapping the menu's plastic sleeve.

Tension presses a smile onto your lips at her inelegance. "Nobody does, not even people who went to these places before the outbreak," you opine, swapping the notepad to one hand and sliding into the booth. "It's okay. I mean.. hmm, what do you prefer? Sweet or salty?"

Her eyelids flick down, fingers coming to lace together as her eyes traverse the options. "Uh, I guess I— wait, wait," she interrupts herself. A swift finger draws you to look down at the menu, "You guys make pancakes here?" green eyes gaping at you with pupils more voracious than her stomach—or her sweet tooth.

"Yeah."

"I'll have that then."

It was a steadfast verdict. The sweet honey pancakes, she shall have, at the cost of a couple minutes and a couple ingredients. But it isn't traditional for birthdays, so you weigh in. “Just pancakes? I mean.. Faye is back there if you want something a little more celebrator—”

“—I'm not really a blow-the-candles-out and make-a-wish type of person,” she corrects you, brows cinched in as she rambles. Then, her free hand scoots the menu forward. “But you already knew that, you just insist otherwise,” she chuckles, unable to meet eye and eye.

True. Your soft insistence dawns from wanting nothing less than heaven inside everything for her, and maybe a dash of that sweet-sweet crush on her. But, Ellie is so staunch in being the humble girl that doesn't glorify every recorded happening with string lights and a wish hurled into the uncaring universe bent upon nurturing demised, late lights young girls reach for. She kept everything low-key: a small garage get-together on her last birthday, the one before that, and the one predating those two. Alcohol in your palms and movies playing back to back. Budding distorted laughs and tumbles into each other. Birthday things.

The remnants of her fifteen-year-old mind hangs aimlessly inside that museum. Dangled and stretched into archaic bones. On the day of return, she arrived happier than a sunflower drunk on the sun. Broad smiles and whatever else.

Wasn't for long.

“Forget you're so down-to-earth and reserved about all the fun things,” you snarkily deliver, retiring that still empty notepad behind your back. Memory shall serve. “Will that be it then?”

“Are you saying I'm not fun?” 

“I'm saying you need more of it.” You emphasize with a tiny bounce-up on your calves, tilting your head north. Though, nothing she uttered was wrong and so your voice silkily drones on, “And that.” You act the lack of a ruder way to insinuate. “But yeah, okay. One order of pancakes coming up.”

“Cool, I'll uh—have a 'celebratory' drink in the meantime?” She nudges the menu towards you once again, irises pulled thin on themselves. Thoroughly staring; your reflection in a bead of black.

You have to laugh, kindly laugh. “No alcohol here, dumbass.”

“Oh. Right.” Her doe-stare only crescendoed from there, shying away at the result of her asking. Something reluctant is lodged in her pale throat, stumbling out only when it feels imminent as you turn away. “D-Do you wanna chat, afterwards? There's so much bullshit surrounding Seattle I have to catch you up on and I-I didn't before, so.."

Swinging your head back, you gauge that mercurial girl there. Tripping up her request like it couldn't escape hibernation from her head any quicker than insult does.

Faye shouldn't mind. “'Course, I was left to wonder about everything since that night anyway.” Your boss might even encourage it; knowing that your long-standing crush for her—heartbreaking to fathom, beautiful to feel—never swept you from rambling Ellie into some fairytale, so she would use it to psych you into asking her out. Jesse, too. Damn the nosy ones!

But it's the one thing that keeps you worried now.

“Cool, cool. Oh, hey, add extra syrup will you?”

What does Ellie think of you?

“Mhm,” syrup is nowhere as sweet as your hum. “Got it.”

Does she think of you at all?

MOUTHS ALL-CONSUMING AND DEPRIVING

  Minutes in, minutes out, wallowing at that ruby-red booth fed the realization to Ellie that the nerves feeding off her anxious chest could not combat conversation alone. She needed an aid. Liquid courage. Velvety smooth and robust.

Fortunately for betting gods and heaven-watching anyones, leftover whiskey from the last bonfire made stock in her cloistered, chaotic cabinets. So it founded no surprise that it whirled to mind after the celebratory-drink fact; leading you here, in her bedroom, on her bed. She pours whiskey into stubby glasses, One for her, one for you, and a lucky extra two for further along this unexplored line. Nothing overflowing limits.

But, oh boy, did it make you all lovey-dovey.

Her lips move and they dance over words, but all you hear is your own enamoration of how heart-shaped they are. You see, but fail to hear and comprehend. Floating aimlessly into those freckles, again. Something a fourteen-aged, sanguine mind would do.

Ellie was relaying Seattle to you, she prefaced. Prefacing didn’t aid you in paying attention, though. Today is not your sharpest, it dates to be your most absentminded. Not your usual, at all.

Nods are swayed to every shock-value word that you manage to understand, but the star-crossed rest, you miss, and replace with whatever story her pupils trace. They flit to read your face after each end of her sentences, so it has you thinking too much of her time has slipped without the company of a listener, and now that her time slips into you, she can use it to stretch your expression with whatever witty remark she makes. 

She did one day blurt that your laugh compliments your smile—or however that fucking flirt threw it over the crackle of that bonfire.

In fact, when you begin to let parts of her body neck-down from her face distract you, only then do you decipher how much she has grown in a month.

She pitches her drink to sip, and your eyes are hot on that glassy trail, artistically concerned with the way she swills down whiskey: fluently gulped, throat bobbing, the scar on her lip licked clean. Her brows too, have thickened, much so as her leathered skin, her callouses. She traces her thigh in circles repeatedly—a fidgety habit—and her lips purse and tug and wrinkles hug and press said lips when they are prettily wide. 

Every high noon or low point of her body was different, and you have missed a great many things you care too much about to not appreciate every brink and midst. You don't want her to be lost to otherworld winds without studying her presence harshly. She is in your scrutiny, now more than ever.

“So, do I get to see my pancakes yet, or?”

“Oh, oops.” You snap out of your woolgathering, wagging your head left to right. Then briskly as you assented her invitation, you slide your knees under you, reorganizing your seating. “Can't blame me for being so invested in your epic tales. Could totally be a comic narrator for the school in town.”

Ellie had already been sat skyward. Sprawled at one leg and tucked at the other, arm in her lap, where her whiskey is nestled. “Oh, sure,” she says with a sarcastic edge. “Those kids are a bunch of little shits. They would probably interrupt me with fart jokes or make actual fart sounds than sit still and pay attention for thirty minutes.”

“Hmm,” you hum, short and atonal, peeling the corner of the plastic lid back. “And who do you think taught them those terrible jokes, huh?”

Soft lids narrow together to sharpen her gaze; glaring at your clever comment, lips propped slightly open. “Terrible?” An offended, toothy smile pulls on her lips. All sentences she could possibly muster up come crashing into each other; an agglomeration, “I—They aren't bad jokes—and they're puns, really, so they're actually pretty fuckin' smart,” she boasts with brows raised. “And It isn't my fault that every annoying kid picked them up and started repeating them.”

It most certainly is her fault. Hell, even you catch yourself reciting them at the crest of nightfall, giggling into your palm. Although, why she's trying so rigorously to plead her pun-enjoying case to you, might just be funnier. “Are you seriously trying to explain puns to me?”

“God,” she surrenders in a chuckle, and bows her head to introduce another quick sip to her parched lips. Ellie then eyes you for a blank second thereafter, tugging the plump of her lower lip through her teeth. Like contemplation has her hindered.

Around you, the lungs of the garage’s foundation inhale, and exhale; creaking and settling.

She dashes a huff. “You basically asked,” Ellie reminds you, her tone and eye-roll implying obviousness. “Can I eat my pancakes now? M'hungry.” Her face sutures into a pseudo-frown and encloses herself to a crisscross, impatiently behaving.

Now, as for the pancakes. Fluffy, biscuit brown, star-shaped, bountifully rivered in unrestricted syrup, topped off by a definitely-melted, humbled ingot of butter. Needless to say, you're pleased by what boredom and intact cooking-books taught you, and she hasn't even seen them yet.

The ask for a carryout-container was already in order the moment you set pace for her table, because you wound up in a near-catastrophe as she sought you out around the kitchens like a lost pup and maundered right into you. Thank patrol for instincts; it's the one thing you held an undying clutch to. And the sweet pancakes you proudly plated, making refuge on the counters as you cross-examined Ellie in case you injured her arm more.

Lucky girl was all fine and peachy, of course.

She only knocked you two right into that near-injury mess to invite you here. Persuasion sat readily in her throat incase you questioned her motives—most of her ideas turning out to be a little friend-group antic, never anything serious or singular—but you agreed to it in double-time. 

“Think you might just be one of those kids at this point.” You gingerly tweak the rim of the plate you kept the pancakes on and lift it outside the container, planting it between all four knees.

“Eh, you're not so innocent yourself,” Ellie contends before she even casts her first peek at the hillock of starry sweetness, totally taken aback when she does. “Holy shit,” she awes, just as if she were a young teen again, “Are you kidding me?”

Labor-intended nights never slip soft through the gaps of your fastened fingers, not even days where your work period is abridged, but hey, strange, space-brain girls are far beyond ordinary exception. Hell, Ellie is vital! Commemorating the red angel you worship in the patterned and soapy act of cooping up on her bed, toasting to the moonlight and letting her talk your ear off for old times' sake is your approach to telling her you love her.

“Know I'm not a pancake-connoisseur, but I gave it a unique whirl. Just for you.” You held a fork out, gracing her with first honors. “Don't blame me if it gives you a stomachache,” your forewarn is a doubtful one; in your mind, morningtime will arise with an extra punch to her gut.

Ellie, however, stares right into the baying eyes of a challenge, snatching the fork from you. "Hey, if it's good enough for my tongue, then it's good enough for ma' gut!" and promptly after exclaim, gashes and tears her fork into the sweet, airy texture of the pancake, popping it past her sweet, berried lips. “Mhh—and I will blame you. So you end up feeling sorry n'take care of me.”

God, whatever souls you would sell to spend paradisal afterlife with this fool. Talking with a gob flush of the birthday project you're humiliated to be proud of. You scoff, “Asshole,” lightheartedly scornful as can be, and it snaps something to mind. Head tilting eye-to-eye, “Dina wouldn't be the one to?” you ask, right after she swallows.

That particular question seemingly struck a chord as her brows cinched together, eyes dropping with allusion. “No,” she says meekly, soft in the sound, but you can tell it came up heavy. Shadowed by a sigh, and an untimely chuckle. “Do you want to know?” She throws on a shrug that ripples through her head, sending it to hang lopsidedly. As the stout willow grows.

“Guess so,” you agree temperately, not wanting to seem too eager—even though with this topic, you just might be. Camouflage those old, foul feelings of envy. “Did Seattle have you kicking more ass than just Wolves and infected? Couldn't have been a very romantic tr—”

“Dina's pregnant.”

Silence carves it's way after that. Thick, tense and unyielding. You had words lined up but like a shot in stark night they've just—vanished, sunk back into the chamber. Nothing prepared you to hear that, “Pregnant?” lowering a hand to your belly where you swear your heart has pummeled to.

Ellie glances up, once at your widened face and once at your hand. A bite of humor works it's way above her chin; smugly smirking. “God, don't tell me you're pregnant now too.”

“What? No!”

Damn idiot. Should punch her right in the—nevermind.

Ellie is way too quick to make serious things unserious. “You're a damn menace,” you unapprovingly giggle.

“Am I?” Amusement raises her brows, tearing into the pancake with her fork for another bite. “Cause you seem to like menace.”

You adjust onto propped elbows, “Do I?” playing all nonchalant. “I mean, what do you mean by that?” your voice dims, expending for the small space that separates you and her.

“Mhh,” she contemplates with a purring sound, and shrugs. “Dunno.” Ellie retreats those eyes downward where you won't compel her to smile. You can tell she battles the letch to look up again, which—as proven in her case—doesn't fucking work. She shoots up carefully, and it's a conflicted gaze this time. “Not with Dina anymore, though. That’s the other thing.”

And we're back.

Having reconciled the chance, you retrace. Look at her with somber concern. “Did something between the two of you happen?” It's a gentle question, reinforced by the bulletproof stare you offer her to unwind in.

The air in her voice softens, “Sort of,” and the meridians of your body then become easier to look at as she continues, wrinkles in her brows. “Said some things I shouldn't have, and we.. figured it best to leave it at that. For now.” her explanation sounds desolate and attemptless, like she has sat in shadow and vigil accepting this fact and has given up on hope. Crestfallen and quieter; this isn't like her. Bent at her wrist, dangling that glass above her crisscrossed lap like a sad child pokes at the food on their plate.

“For now?” You hate that you pry, but that sick greed in your gut from times before haunts with a hunger for knowledge. Your envy that is enlightenment. Still, you hesitate to seem nosy, wanting nothing than to possibly just console your friend in need. “What's holding you back from.. calling it quits? The pregnancy?” You crane your body upright slowly.

“Just still feelin' bad.” Her fingers begin a tap-dance at the glass' rim. “I'm an asshole.”

You duck at the neck, searching for her downcast eyes. “Come on, El. I've only ever seen you rant and rave at middle-aged grumpy men and infected, no way it was that bad.”

“You weren’t there,” she insists otherwise with an earnest voice, inciting a refreshed sigh as she swigs her whiskey.

“Well, what did you say?” You are relentless. No, normally you would not condone it, but tonight, tongues are loose and boundaries are blurry. You miss your happy girl. “I could talk to Dina, if it helps.”

“Wouldn’t change shit.”

“If you love her, you would try.” Even if it sickens you.

Ellie slots her drink in her lap, and grouches. “Dude.” She pinches the bridge of her nose and stifles a groan, frustrated. It draws out in words without proper footing, “It's weird. We just don't know what to say to each other—I don't know what to say to her, it.. it's just how it is—it was a mutual agreement. None of your business, really.” 

Her own tongue is a very obvious byproduct of nerves, whiskey, stress, by and large a lot of things. Being goaded, definitely.

How it is, is how it will be.

“She broke up with me.”

You didn't mean to goad her, but curiosity—and a kiss of alcohol and envy—ate your refrain. The lack of any eye contact or movements to stray from you thereafter her word is telling enough. That it aches her head, and a cold, guilty sweat crosses over your skin. It was a stupid thing to blurt. You feel fucking stupid for even saying that.

Fuck. 

Her dry sniffle is noisy on your shortcoming, and has you scrambling to think. “Sorry, just been worried for weeks.” But you shrink into a ball of abraded arms and legs, conserving yourself into a shy, spotted egg of curiosity that clads no hatching cracks to be convicted of. “Thought you two finally getting together would be the dream to end all dreams.” What the fuck do you know anyway?

Her eyes watch through you, into you like water; she notices, and the pancakes are slid to the side. Shuffles of fabric clamber closer as she eats the inches between you two, her breath brushing your forehead. “Hey, hey. I didn't mean anything by it. It's fuckin' great that I got somebody I can drink with and mope to. Really. Just been shitty all around—Tommy? Fuck, he's been the worst lately.” 

Everything ascends in temperature once her hand plants on the side of your neck, every nerve petrifies; unheard-of touch. She can feel the gasped tension in your throat, thumbing the muscles down. 

“Don't worry about it,” she says, and her saying that amuses you.

A moth-eaten phrase in particular is what was said. You scoff at it, plopping your legs back out. “Dude.” You bite a smile into your lips. Sucks that such a hackneyed thread of words does so; you're really chewing back the urge to call her any byname of dumbass, per usual. But damn that sincere face on her face that sweetens the teasing deal for you. You settle for low-hanging fruit. “You always say that, Ellie.”

“Ugh,” she seconded a scoff back at you, grimacing coyly. “Don't you start.” Ellie drags her hand off, not intending for it to land smack-dab on your thigh. It takes her a second to register the sound, the texture, slinking her hand behind her when you say nothing.

“Start what?” you stutter a laugh, bringing your thighs together.

“Nothin,”

“Don’t bullshit me, WIlliams.” To educe her, you dig your foot into her side, poking her. “Does it have anything to do with only me being here and not anybody else?” You lean into her.

Ellie does too, an exact mirror of you. “No..” The only thing that contrasted you, was her hand again, seeking what was left behind on your thigh. “Just wanted to see you first,” her lips barely move besides a slick smirk. Voice tiptoeing through the air, the noise-level two clandestine lovers live at, in secret song.

“You fuckin liar. No hang-outs for weeks before you left and suddenly you want to see me?” You call bull when she relucts to raise her hung head, witnessing the corners of her lip curl. Her head twists away more, and you spearhead the first, little move: tuck that irkful strand of auburn with a single finger. “C'mon.. what is it?”

“Stupid,” she blatantly spits, and at last confronts your face with her puckish one—glimpsing down, and up, and down. Watching her grip flex into your leg intermittently, chewing her lip. “Mhh, maybe 'm starting it.”

Ellie is heart-poundingly close; her breath is now yours to breathe. You whisper, “Maybe you are,” perking yourself right up to her cheek, unnoticing of the ardor her eyes spin over your face. Unsure where to stare. You pretend the pressure on your thigh flies under the radar, too, and that your heart isn't in the middle of a love-logged swell, and your cheeks aren't tender from smirking at the feeling of it perched there. Love-struck death befalls, if else confessed, so you tease, tease, and tease to stomach your excitement. “Maybe, you're stalling on those pancakes because they actually gave you a stomachache. You feeling good?”

Her bitten lips part, and the next sensations you feel—are transcendental.

Wisping whispers so hot, and intoxicating on your skin, you fail to catch her hand coming up from your thigh to clasp your face, or that hers has shifted in front of yours. She breathes out, “Won't you shut up already?” through lips pulled into a smirk, and rushes to press it fondly against your mouth.

You wince—somewhere between an electrified gasp and a reaction of delight—into the kiss she stole, and it only beckons her to starve more for you. The heat of her whiskey breath pours into your mouth, and you drape your eyes closed. Scoring these seconds by, she spends them concentratedly rolling the skin together, others pushing and shying from the kiss, until she stills and bleeds out the pressure in a slow, wet smack. Hazily eyeing you for a response.

Once you feel her no more, your eyes blurrily creak open, and the corners of her lips at soft upturn greet you. Single creases at either side, the few freckles above them outspread.

Judgement renounces you, leaving you with pathetic pickings for reply. You aren't sure what she wants—or needs you to say. “Ellie?” daintily, a mumble flows onto her lips, and is far from a frail sound of concern. Intrigue encapsulates you.

What does this mean?

You think you know, but self-reason has always proven itself to be naive and too eager to trust.

By cruel emotion, she misunderstands you. “Sorry,” she pants out breathlessly, blowing the shape of it into your cleft lips and hovering right upon. Her fingers gouge the fabric clothing your chest, mangling it into her fist—an attempting grasp. This proximity is all she could ever dream of. “Is this okay?” Yet, dreams always sever at the apotheosis. So when she comes in for the second kiss, she wants no more for dreaming; the reality she yawns with hunger into, is insurmountable.

A dewdrop of something cold dribbles between you. Tears.

In turn, you misunderstand her. Using your own stubbornness to create an enigma. To think, that out of the blue, all of this would transpire? After endless wishes unanswered? You doubt it.

You love her, but you refuse the reality of it happening upon you.

Separating from the plush, licked skin of her lips fleetingly, you speak. “Is this you being drunk?” Only to be drawn back in without her processing your words right away, and then drawn back out. Intricate intimacy.

“Please,” Ellie begs, “Answer me, before I feel like an asshole again,” and chuckles sobbingly before her teeth feel rapaciously empty, and cannot tolerate it any longer. Instinct, and teeth nip your bottom, vulnerable lip.

Neither of you could be totally drunk, having only drank a modest portion.

So this is raw.

Thinly pulled, she slowly stretches it across the air between, and watches it spring back beneath eyelids sunken low. The action entails nothing else for her to feed satisfaction from, already panting right in your mouth in search of more as soon as your tongue descries the answer. “More than okay,” you heave in a passioned breath along that all-consuming, deprived mouth. Your hand squeezes her fist confirmingly.

It quenches her lust to know, a hot-blooded, moaned and voiceless curse snapping into your mouth. “I fuckin' love you.” Her rage softens in meeker kisses, peppering them up to the corners of your lips until she pauses, and pulls herself away. Her eyes turn troubled and adrenaline-rushed. Stains of tears shimmer beneath, along new ones that begin to plunge, and for the first time ever, you know they're yours. But then the flesh between frowns, the mood shifting, and she croaks, “Am I.. an asshole?”

It breaks you to hear that.

You glare, and stammer, “W-What? You aren't.” Hooking dearly onto her wrist when her hand glides up to rest against your cheek. “Why?”

“Cause I sprung this on you, 'nd I don't wanna force you to..” Ellie cranks to a halt, mouth screwing shut like her thoughts were too much to bear hearing aloud. “Fuck,” she quietly spews, cowering her face near your neck.

“Said it was okay,” you coo, clarifyingly coo, raking your fingertips up and through the tied loops of her hair. “The only asshole thing you'd ever done was not let me come with you.”

“I know.” Her eyes search for uncomplicated plains. The sheets, her lap, your neck. A kiss is planted as she tips her head, the gust thereafter a warm reminder of her sorries.

“Thought you were going to die.” You awoken in violent patterns, cold nights restless in bed, tossing and turning. Waking and falling into daydreams of how Jackson would feel missing a cardinal component. A girl to rave against dying lights. Thorns scale your throat at the thought. “You're reckless, y'know?” you mean it as a gentle insult, chuckling as it leaves your lips, and sealing it into her scarred palm. Kissing reckless consequences.

Her lips loiter on the pulse of your throat. They drag, and they drag.. sloppily limping over your jaw as she makes her way to observe you in her palm, mumbling low, and gravelly, “How many times am I gonna have to say it?” Ellie deems it redundant to tell you that she knows again, resorting to her own little gentle insult, “Such a fuckin' sap.”

“Says you.”

Her hand is comfortingly warm; you aren't fain to break away. But her fingers are curious, thumb nearly making it into your mouth before she second-guesses herself, easing it at the verge of your lips instead.

A longing moment of Ellie staring at the way her thumb looks—a decoration to your mouth—passes, and she responds, “Still alive, aren't I?” to that loose thread of a plea you forgot you even said. It calls you right over, bidding you to look into her eyes again as space finds itself thinning again, her scratchy, band-aided nose caressing yours. “Dumbass.”

She chuckles into your mouth as you chuckle into hers, cutting yourself off with a kiss that ebbs, and flows. Suckles, and smacks, snaking her tongue in for a change. That sweet, sweet wheat. Saccharinity you can't explore anywhere else other than the outline of her mouth. And you—of grunted volitions in her chest—take exploration further, replacing the grasp of her shoulder with the coursing of fabric, sliding under the hem of her shirt and palming the skin there.

You feel her skin breathe, her belly breathe into your hand, and a content wrinkle pinch between her brows. Her skin, is as soft as nothingness.

“You're a dumbass.”

Air clings to your cheek as her hand reaches around you, pressing fingerprints into the base of your head as to prop you for her delightments. Ellie is no amateur, enjoying you as if she knew you were hers without explicit pledge.

“Sure, babe,” she scoffingly counters, and pulls her tongue out of you, lips messiy shining. She scouts you out; lays eyes on your expression with undertones of satisfaction and presses an appetent bite right back into your damp skin, grunting into the filthy kiss.

Your mind is one-pathed right now; in the most maddened form, you crave the story further down her throat. In that warm space, is air thinned and balmy with the scent of alcohol and syrup. In those whimpers, is the sincere confession she held tight in throatly gloaming, all those intimate times before. In all of your yearnings, your lips never parted for more.  

Two holes that want to consume each other.

Weeping, wailing, tormenting in an empty forever.

“Fuck you, Ellie,” you cathartically sob into the humid cavern of her, a hint of wanton—and other repressed things, taking form. That hand under her shirt wanders from her navel and tweaks the button of her jeans, pressing your body against all of her like it hurt to be inside your own, singular body. Overcame by a need you could not chew out.

Ellie cuts the kiss, quick to soothe the movement with her hand pressing down and collecting yours. “Hey, hey, too fast,” she laughs, distancing herself and giving you those eyes that could see you were overstrung, hectic to go somewhere you aren't prepared for.

She loves you, but that means appreciating you enough to wait until time is perfect.

Her head cocks, “Let's take shit slow, huh?” fingers weaving into the pliant gaps of yours and pulling your fist dear to her chin, kissing it.

You speak over the repeated sounds of her smooches, “Yeah, sorry,” cringing slightly at how fucking cheesy the scene became. But, when is Ellie not? Wonder clasps you now; intent to know what this makes out of the two of you, having held your feelings for forever. “Well, what does all this mean, then?”

“It means..” Ellie slants her body even more, stealing your wrist along with her. Planning something, no doubt. “You and me, breakfast tomorrow at ten, Tipsy Bison?” Her mouth stuck to the side of your hand like syrup, so firm in not letting you go.

It makes your ears simmer hearing her shamelessly set up a date, of all things she could have said. God. You errantly laugh, totally not giddy when her mouth starts sprinkling up your arm at an alarming pace. “Sounds more than good—hey! You slow down!” 

Happy birthday, asshole.

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[shy-taylorsversion]

Want You Back | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Inspired by Want You Back by Maisie Peters

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Summary: Over a year ago, Y/n started hunting with the boys. Her and Dean's friendship became more than anything she ever had before. Then he hurt her like never before. The worst part was she didn't really care.

Takes place somewhere in season 6 after Sam got his soul back. Flashbacks are during season five.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Cursing (minimal), canon-level violence, few innuendos, and mentions of things. Reader is kinda sad and desperate. Angst. no happy ending :(

A/N: Hi!! After a year of trying to write a complete fic to post, I finally did it. Please excuse any grammar or spelling errors, I relied on Grammarly lol Also I had no idea how to write the action scenes but tried my best. I really don't know if this is worth much but I had so much fun writing sooo I hope you enjoy it!! (gif not mine)

March 2010

  Y/n’s phone buzzed, drawing her attention from the hunter drunkenly blabbering in her ear. They’d just wrapped up a quick hunt, a werewolf somewhere in northern Montana. She didn’t even really know the guy but Bobby had given him her number to ask for help. She agreed, not really having anything more to do. He was fine for a hunter, other than he never shut up and was getting too handsy for her liking, and him being on his fifth drink wasn’t helping. 

She opened the message, not recognizing the number. Bobby had to stop handing it out to whoever.  

           “Hey, Sweetheart. Whatcha up to?”  

The phone fell into her lap. There was only one person she ever let get away with calling her that, or anything really, and he didn’t come around often. 

           “Depends, who is this?”  

    The response was almost immediate. 

          “Don’t do me like that, Y/n”

 She could almost see his stupid grin on the screen and had to look away to control the heat rising in her face. Within five seconds and two texts, Dean Winchester had turned her into a giggling schoolgirl with a crush. 

          “I’m at a bar, what do you want?” 

         “Ah, a girl after my own heart. Which one? I wanna see you.” 

In any other universe, she would have assumed he had ulterior motives. She had the first few times she’d received that text but ended up spending the night hiding her disappointment. He only wanted to see her. He’d meet with her wherever she was. A bar, a motel, a diner.   

They’d spend hours talking about everything. She’d tell him stories of her recent hunts and the hunters she was stuck helping. He’d tell her of whatever they’d been facing. On rare occasions, when it was super late and they were sprawled on her bed, in a half-drunken stupor, he’d tell her about Sam or their dad. He’d mention their childhood and what he was put through. One night, he even mentioned a girl named Cassie, he skirted around details but Y/n understood. 

   They’d fall asleep like that, on top of the covers of a dirty motel bed. The next morning, he’d take her to breakfast, hug her goodbye, and then he was gone. 

     Her phone buzzed in her hand again. 

       “I miss you.” 

Her blood ran cold as she stared at the screen. He’d definitely never said that before. They just never went there and maybe this wasn’t him going there but it was different. Without another thought, she sent him the address. 

Present, April 2011

  “What Dean did wasn’t ok, you know that right?” Sam said through the phone. “He never should’ve left like that. We just really could use your and Bobby’s help on this case.” 

  Y/n sighed in response. What could she even say? That she knew, that she understood. That it still didn’t matter because even through all of the anger and hurt, she’d take him back tomorrow. 

  Not that he’d ever actually been hers. It was only half a spring, barely two months. 

It didn’t matter either way. There was a job to be done and she had to do it. She could put her feelings aside for a few days. 

 “He always left like that, not like I’m surprised.”  

   “Look, I’ve gotta go but please, Y/n, call us if you need anything. We’ll be there soon.“ 

 “Bye, Sam.” 

  The call ended, leaving Y/n leaning against the railing of Bobby’s porch. The early spring wind whipped around her and she hugged her flannel closer, looking out onto the empty road. 

   It had been over a year since she’d seen either of them. She knew of everything that happened to them. Sam going to hell and coming back without a soul. Dean, living a normal life for over a year with a woman and her kid. 

 Y/n didn’t know her, only hearing about the situation from Sam and Bobby in passing. She knew her name was Lisa and that Dean cared for her. Maybe more. She knew that Dean had promised Sam to live a normal life after he jumped into the cage. And she was happy that he got a year of peace. She was. 

   She could picture him helping in the kitchen, wearing an apron with flour smeared across his face. He’d probably set up family movie nights and weekend outings and birthday dinners. He’d been happy and okay. Against all odds, he had gotten out. 

    That didn’t stop the wave of hurt that washed over at the thought of him, all domestic and soft.  

 The click of the door opening pulled her out of her thoughts. Bobby stood there, a knowing look on his face.  

     “C’mon kid, let’s see if we can figure out something before those boys get here.” 

A few hours later, Y/n stared at the book in her lap. She’d been rereading the same paragraph for thirty minutes. Every time she’d get drawn into the book, the house would creak or the wind would blow and she’d be snapped out of it. 

   She kept waiting for the door to open, for footsteps to trail down the foyer and into the living room. She couldn’t even begin to prepare for what the next few days were going to be like. Her only plan was to act as normal as possible, which was already proving to be difficult. 

  A pit formed in her stomach, there was a lump in her throat and her head was clouded. The whole room was hazy and it felt like she was watching herself exist.

    She didn’t even realize she was crying until something wet hit her hands and slid onto her jeans. She quickly wiped her eyes and tried to focus on the book again. The lines blurred together as more tears filled her eyes.  

    God, she was sitting here crying over some guy. She was a grown woman, she had to get over this. It was pathetic at this point. 

   “You know, what Dean did was wrong. Leaving like that, not telling you what happening.” Bobby said, walking into the room, a stack of books in his hands. “I love the kid but he’s a real dick sometimes.”

       He meant well but she swore if one more person said that Dean had done bad, she was going to go crazy. 

    She knew that. More than anyone, she knew. She was the one who spent months hunting with him, helping him and Sam figure out how to save the damn world. They’d spent nights wrapped up in each other, more than ever before. Farther than before.  

  She was the one who woke up to an empty bed with no trace of him anywhere. He never responded to a call or a text. Never even let her know he was alive. 

  He’d left like an assassin. 

   Part of her couldn’t even blame him. It probably had been for the best because if he’d told her what the plan had been, she’d have begged. 

     In the end, he’d got to be a coward and she salvaged some amount of self-respect. 

 “I know, Bobby.” She said, giving him a small smile, “I know.” 

The door creaked causing Y/n to jump, earning her a concerned look from Bobby. 

  She smiled at him again, trying to reassure him. She could tell he’d been worried about her lately. He was justified in it. She’d been on edge and closed off for the last year and a half. 

   She took a deep breath and steadied herself. She’d known these boys for the better part of her life, it wasn’t a big deal. 

     Sam rounded the corner first, entering with a slight grin. His eyes immediately found hers and without warning he pulled her off the couch and into his arms. 

   Y/n let out a surprised laugh as her feet dangled off the ground and the life was squeezed out of her.  

   “I missed you too, Sam.” She said, unable to hold back more laughter, “Put me down now.” 

   Her feet hit the floor and Sam stepped back. She looked him over, still smiling. 

     “I’m so glad you’re back.” 

   “Yeah, me too.” 

A set of footsteps grew louder causing Y/n to look up, only for her to meet two green eyes. 

  The breath was knocked out of her and she was all too aware of the pit in her stomach again. 

Ignoring the pairs of eyes on her, She spun on her heel to face Bobby.   

    “Let’s get started?” 

March 2010 

“I call shotgun!” Y/n yelled as they walked out of the diner and took off towards the Impala.

   She was probably being unfair. She’d barely shared the passenger side in the few weeks she’d been with the boys. Sam was getting huffy about it, she could tell but she enjoyed the view more from the front.  Sitting in the back she’d miss the way Dean’s hands looked gripping the steering wheel, the way his lips moved as he mouthed the lyrics to whatever was on the radio, or the way his eyes would flicker to hers for just a split second. 

 Dean had also finally let her DJ and she didn’t plan on giving that rare privilege away anytime soon.

   “C'mon, dude. It's my turn.” Sam whined, “My legs are starting to cramp.” 

Sam beat her to the car which wasn’t surprising since he was literally the size of one. She was close to giving in when an arm landed on her shoulder. Dean nudged Sam out of the way, ignoring his protests, and opened the door. 

     “Sorry, Sammy.”  Dean’s eyes never left hers as she slid into the seat, “Need my Darlin’ by my side.” 

Present, April 2011

   Cracked wooden planks creaked under Y/n’s feet as she followed the boys and Bobby into the abandoned house. It was pitch black. She blinked her eyes, trying to adapt to the lack of lighting.  

According to Sam, a nest of vamps had been holed up there for weeks. They’d started leaving a trail of bodies, teens who’d come through as a dare or curiosity. She didn’t know the exact numbers racked up in that time but it was enough for Sam and Dean to ask for help. 

   Dean motioned for them to split up, two taking the downstairs and two going up. She went to follow behind Sam who had taken off into the next room but Bobby beat her to it. She would’ve fought back but it wasn’t exactly like she could cause a scene right then. 

   She followed Dean up the stairs, cringing every time the stairs groaned underneath their feet. 

Dean slowed as he hit the final step before a long, dark hallway. Y/n was a step behind him. His body nearly covered her. She shifted to the side to peer around him. 

  Both raised their machetes, trying to keep their breathing quiet as they waited for any sign of movement.

    A crash came from down the hall. Dean started towards the sound, Y/n following close behind. The complete darkness put them on edge. Being minus one sense in a house of at least ten fanged bastards, not fun. 

      The floorboard creaked behind her causing her to flip around, just in time to dodge the first vampire of the night. 

       She swung her machete, hitting its arm. Distracted, she brought down the weapon. Its head hit the floor. 

        Dean yelled out from behind her. She flung herself around to hear him fighting off, what she guessed was three on his own. Her presence seemed to catch the attention of one of them because it charged at her. 

   She dodged, the vamp lunged again grabbing her by the arm. She twisted out of its grasp. Using the angle to her advantage, she swiped her leg around, knocking it off balance. Its head rolled away as its body hit the ground. 

     She wiped the sweat from her forehead and turned to try to find Dean. She still couldn’t see him but she could hear him panting a few feet away.

She was yanked forward. Hands gripped her forearms tight enough to leave bruises and slammed into the wall. Her head buzzed on impact and she forced herself to stay upright. Its fangs grazed her neck and then its head dropped to the floor. 

   Dean stood in front of her, so close she could feel him breathing, rather than hearing it. Without thinking, she reached out to him and landed on his arm. She went to pull away but his other hand grasped her wrist, holding her in place. 

“Thanks.” She breathed, “You good?” 

“Yeah, You?” 

She wished she could see him, make sure he was being truthful. He didn’t exactly have the best track record with honesty. But in the dark, she had no choice but to trust him. 

    “I’m fine.” There were definitely bruises forming in her arms and her head was still spinning but she’d had worse.  

   Dean’s hand dropped her wrist. She ignored the deflated feeling in her chest and dropped her arm back to her side. 

  Without warning, he ran his hands over her arms and up her shoulders. She tried to pull away but he didn’t stop. 

    “What are you doing?” She whisper-yelled. 

“I literally heard you hit the wall, Y/n,” He said, running his hands over her head, checking for any bumps. 

“I am fine.”  She tried to swat him away but he grabbed her wrists mid-air and pulled them to his chest.  

    The air was humid around them. She heard him panting. Leather and sweat invaded her senses. Any focus she had before vanished. 

He was here, touching her, after so long. 

  Silence enveloped them. The only noise was their panting. 

 This was wrong. Sam and Bobby were probably fighting for their life downstairs and here they were, doing whatever this was.

  She was about to pull away when a loud yell came from downstairs. 

   The moment was broken. They took off down the hallway and stairs. Staying close to not get lost in the dark. 

  They hit the last few steps as a vampire, charged at them. 

 Dean swung his machete and it fell to the floor.  

 They moved further into the first floor of the home, finding Sam and Bobby fighting off at least four vamps each.  

   They split up, him going to Bobby and her going to Sam.  

     None of the vampires were aware of her yet. She grabbed the syringe of deadman’s blood out of her pocket and plunged the needle into the closet to her. 

  Now they knew she was there.

 Two turned towards her giving Sam time to take down his remaining one. 

   Both charged at her, hissing. She ran in between them.She flipped around, slicing the blade in an arc. The one on her left doubled over at the impact. 

    She swung. 

The right one lunged at her. She pivoted and cut the blade up. 

Its head hit the floor. 

She looked around the room, a slight beam of moonlight flooded the house now. She made out Sam helping Bobby up from the floor, right as Dean took down the last vampire. 

   The room was silent other than everyone trying to catch their breath.  

Dean’s eyes found hers. She forced herself to look away. Sam interrupted the non-moment. 

“Time for drinks?” 

Y/n and the boys decided to go out. They were leaving soon but everyone needed time to wash off and get ready. 

   She dragged the black liner across her eyelid, double-checking to see if it smeared the shimmery brown eyeshadow she’d already put on. The cracks in the old mirror made it kind of hard to perfect the make-up but it would have to do.  She already changed from her bloodied hunting clothes into a clean pair of jeans with a simple tank top. She didn’t own much and traveled with less. 

“Broke mirrors are bad luck, ya know?”  

  Dean leaned against the doorframe, flannel pulled taut around his crossed arms. 

She ignored the pit that had reappeared in her stomach and continued applying her lipstick. She flipped through ideas for a response. She could yell at him to get out or cry about how much he hurt her. Instead, she opted to act like nothing was wrong. 

   “I’m pretty sure you’re the one who broke it.”  She said, shoveling her makeup back into the bag, still never meeting his eye. She stood and gathered the rest of her stuff into a neat pile on her bed. Her back was completely towards him. 

    She heard him walk into the room and the door clicked shut. 

“Y/n, look at me.”  

She turned around and looked up at him. Her eyebrows raised like he was boring her. In reality, she was struggling to breathe. Her hands shook and a lump was stuck in her throat.  

 Her eyes glanced over his face. His jaw was set but eyes were soft.  She knew where this was going. 

  Dean took a deep breath before starting.  

“Look, what I did-” 

“Do not finish that sentence, Dean Winchester.” She spat. 

“I just-”

“No. You don’t get to say anything. You don’t get to say that what you did was wrong or how sorry you are. You don’t think I don’t know that what you did was wrong? Everyone keeps telling me that. Bobby, Sam and now you. They kept telling me how horrible of you that was like it wasn’t me. Like I wasn’t the one who spent months with you, like I didn't help you figure out how to stop the fucking apocalypse. Like I didn’t stitch you up after every hunt or spend every car ride next to you. Like I wasn’t the one who would hold you after you woke up screaming or it wasn’t me who spent every single night in your fucking sheets.” 

 Every ounce of refrain she’d worked to keep was gone. Hot tears were streaming down her face as her eyes bored into his. He didn’t try to interrupt her but his jaw twitched and body tensed. 

  “Like it wasn’t me who woke up two months later to an empty bed. You were gone, Dean. You left without a word. No text, no note. Nothing. You fucking left me. And then I found out you were with some other girl for a year? So yeah, I know that what you did was bad.” 

Somewhere in her speech, she’d moved close enough for their chest to touch. Her finger was stabbing into his chest.  He didn’t move, was barely breathing but she wasn’t finished. 

   “Maybe it was cheap to you, or maybe it was some fling to pass the time but it was real to me. It was all I had. You were all I had.” Her voice broke at the last word and she dropped her hand. Her head fell as she cried. Over a year of built-up heartbreak exploding in one moment was too much. 

     His hand found hers and placed it back on his chest. She looked back up at him, his other hand reaching out to cup her cheek. She closed her eyes as his thumb wiped away the remaining tears. 

    “Do you want to know what the worst part is?” She whispered, eyes still shut. “I’d be yours again if you wanted. If you asked. How pathetic is that?” 

      “Y/n.” 

She opened her eyes to look at him despite her embarrassment.  

  “You are anything but cheap or pathetic.” His voice was thick and his eyes were glassy. She’d seen him in so many different states but she’d never seen so much emotion written across his face. 

   “Ask me then. Ask me to come with you.” 

His expression darkened and he dropped his hand from her face. He took a step back and looked away. 

   “It’s not that easy.” He said, shaking his head. “It's never that easy.” 

She let out a bitter laugh. 

 She wasn’t even surprised. She should’ve been disappointed or furious but she was just over it. She was tired and desperate. And if she couldn’t have him, he needed to go. 

  She wiped a hand down her face and glanced back into the mirror assessing the damage her outburst caused. She started wiping off the messed-up liner before starting to reapply. Dean stood behind her, brows furrowed in confusion. 

    “Get out.” She said without hesitation, her voice as steady as possible.  

He opened his mouth as if to speak but shut it. He walked towards the door but stopped with his hand on the doorknob. 

   “For what it's worth, I am sorry.” 

The buzz of conversation filled the packed-out bar. Sam found them a small booth in the corner and was now talking about a new piece of lore he’d found about some Egyptian god. Most of the time, she loved hearing what he had to say but right now all she could focus on was Dean's hand trailing up and down the woman’s hip. He never even sat down with them, finding himself a spot at the bar, next to a pretty blonde. She’d watched for half an hour now as he grinned at the girl, whispered in her ear, and bought her a drink. 

  She wanted to puke or cry or both. She decided to get drunk instead. 

She went to take a sip of her beer only to realize it was empty. Motioning to Sam she was going to get another, she slid out of the booth and made her way to the opposite side of the bar from Dean. 

   She planned to order a shot of some vodka and another beer but she couldn’t catch the attention of either bartender.

  A body bumped up against hers causing her to stumble. A hand wrapped around her waist to catch her. She almost jerked away but she looked up to find a familiarly unfamiliar pair of dark green eyes and dark blonde hair.  

   The man was by far the prettiest she’d seen all night. 

 “I am so sorry, It's packed in here. Isn’t it?  Nowhere to stand.” He had a slight southern drawl and a boyish charm about him. 

 “It is. Can’t seem to even order a drink.”  She smiled at him.

 “You see, now that had to be fate or something because I was just wantin’ to buy you one.” He grinned and waited, almost seeing if she’d allow it. His hand was still on her but she found she didn’t really mind. 

 The room was fuzzy and she could only make out the man in front of her. Even then, he was a little hazy and she had no idea what he was saying, only that his mouth looked pretty as he said it.    

  Y/n didn’t know how long it’d been since the handsome stranger volunteered to feed into her night of drunkenness or even how many she’d had so far. She vaguely remembered him buying her the first shot and then the second and maybe a third. They made small talk, she gave some bullshit story about what she did for work and where she was from. Somewhere in between she had a fourth, fifth, and sixth one. 

 And somewhere between the seventh and now, she’d lost track of Dean. She didn’t even know if he was still there. She did know that the new guy made her feel ok, at least for now. His hands never left her and the drinks never seemed to end.

  She could barely remember the events of the day. Maybe by tomorrow, she wouldn’t remember any of it, or at least a girl could hope.

But right now, she didn’t feel like crying or throwing up as long as she didn’t think of it. 

   She decided in her drunken haze that maybe this was what she needed. So when the stranger asked her if she wanted to leave, she agreed. And when he leaned down to kiss her, she let him.

[fishsticksloser]

Hi! So, I've been thinking about this request... We know how skilled the turtles are when it comes to battle, and it's even shown that April is really skilled in a lot of things, even when it comes to combat. So I thought of a request that's, I guess, would look better in a short fic form, or maybe something like what you did in the "First Kiss", and it's about how the reader(gn) is anxious about how they might be a burden, "a third wheel" since they aren't that skilled or helpful, and this feeling could be multiplied after the events of the end of the second season when April is said to be a part of the family and even played her part in the final battle against Shredder.

Feeling Useless

RotTMNT x gn!reader

Warnings: angst, insecurity, fluff, comfort, not written as hcs, post movie (like... right after, they're still injured) :))

A/N: I can't believe how much I got done before my break... I'm actually really proud. :))

Donnie

Donnie was laid on his stomach, his arms around your waist, head in your lap. He was grumbling again.

Everyone, including you, had banned him from his lab. Sitting his shell needed to heal so he needed to rest, not be in his lab working for days on end.

"I'm useless if I'm not building something." Donnie huffs, flopping his head in your lap, exasperated.

"You can't be serious." You roll your eyes, the caressing of his head pausing. Donnie chuffs in frustration that you've stopped petting him.

"I'm the most serious I could possibly be, darling." He answers, nuzzling your hand, a silent plea for more pets. He looks at you, that signature deadpan look on his face. "What use am I right now?"

"I dunno, you make a pretty good weighted blanket." You shrug, your tone playful and teasing, seeing a hint of amusement reflected in his eyes. Donnie rolls his eyes, a small smile on his lips. "But seriously, just because you're not making anything doesn't mean you're useless. Mikey isn't cooking or painting, Raph isn't training, Leo isn't skateboarding. Are they useless too?"

"That's not—"

"It's the same." You cover his mouth, seeing his eyebrows draw down. "If they're not useless, neither are you. If anyone here is useless, it's me."

That caught Donnie's attention, frowning at you. "How could you say that? You're the one who fixed me up... You're the one keeping me sane when I'm not allowed me in my lab." Donnie sits up, now sitting in front of you, holding your hands. "How could you say that about yourself? You're not... You're not useless. Not to me."

Leo

"Hey, babe, what's up?" Leo greets, seeing you sit in his room. He crawls into his bed with you, kissing your cheek. Leo tosses some pillows to the foot of the bed, propping his cast up.

"Oh... Um, nothing. Just came to hang with my crippled boyfriend." You answer, trying to hide your insecurity. Leo laughs, nudging you.

"Good, your crippled boyfriend was told to come back to bed." Leo chuckles, kissing your temple. He wraps his arm around your shoulder, pressing a harder kiss to your hair. "But, I can tell something's up. Hit me with it, sweetheart."

"You guys are so... Strong and skilled. I mean, it took seven of you to stop an alien invasion..." I began with a heavy sigh. Leo was always good at detecting emotions.

"All of us almost died in the process, but go on." He nods, his hand rubbing your shoulder and arm comfortingly.

"Even April and Casey..." You continued, shooting him a look which made him clam up instantly. Leo listened intently, his free hand finding yours. "You all are just amazing... And I'm worried that I'm not... Useful."

It's quiet for a moment, Leo's comforting rubs stop as well. You turn to look at him, seeing his brow furrowed.

"Useless?" Leo mumbles, he turns to face you, his hand cradling your face, squishing your cheeks a little. "Absolutely not. You may not be a fighter... But you're always here, ready to help. You learned how to make a cast!" Leo motions down to his leg, his voice slightly playful. He sighs, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours. "I couldn't ask for anyone better. You're so amazing."

"You may not be a fighter, but you're always there for me. Always here to stitch me up, to comfort me."

Mikey

Mikey hated not being able to do things as normal, Leo got mad anytime Mikey did anything with his hands. So he laid with you next to him. You were rewrapping his hands and arms, seeing him pout.

"I know, Mikey... I wish I could be more useful." You sigh, tying the wrap to keep it secure. You move to his other side, unwrapping the old bandages.

"What do you mean?" Mikey asks, frowning at you. The hand you weren't working on cups your cheek, wanting you to look at him.

"I just... I mean, if I was able to fight, maybe things could've been different. Maybe you wouldn't be hurt." You answer simply, like it was the most obvious thing.

"I can tell you right now that it would've had the same outcome. Not because you're useless, but because this is what it took to win..." Mikey tells you softly, his unbandaged hand moving to cup your other cheek. "You're far from useless cause I need you..."

Raph

Raph was isolating himself. From Leo mostly, scared of trying him and scared that he'll try to hurt Leo again. You were the only one allowed to visit because you never saw him when he was infected. So here you were, laid on top of him like a weighted blanket, his claws lightly trailing up and down your spine.

"Raphie, I promise you won't hurt them. All that alien junk is out of your system." You mumble, feeling the smooth rumble of his churrs. "They miss you..."

"Raph knows..." He sighs, his churrs fading out. He rolls, making you fall next to him, both of you facing each other. "Raph's just... Scared. Havin' nightmares about it."

"You're gonna have to face them at some point, can't stay stuck in here forever, big guy." You tell him, watching as he nods in acknowledgement. His eyes sad and scared, but filled with understanding. He kisses your palm, giving you a deep churr of gratitude.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ⋆｡❤️ ｡⋆꒱ ˎˊ˗

"I just... Don't know what to do. I feel useless..." Raph hears you talking to Mikey, his heart breaking at your words. "I just want to help him..."

He can't hear what Mikey says, but he retreats to his room, sitting to collect his thoughts.

You felt useless? How? Did he do something wrong?

When you come in, Raph's head snaps up to look at you. His eyes full of guilt and sadness. But he didn't want you to know he'd heard. Instead he pulls you to him, biting his face in your chest.

"I... I think I'm ready..." He mumbles, keeping you pressed against him. "But I need you... Will you stay and help me?"

[covetyou]

a dress up!Joel interlude

tomorrow (29th May) I'll be posting the next part of dress up!Joel, lovingly titled ghosted.

in the meantime, have this interlude of sorts that I've been sitting on for weeks (and honestly thought I posted back in April, whoops.)

main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

rating: Explicit (18+ only!) word count: 969 warnings: more brotherly shenanigans, sex toy talk, mild relationship angst, alcohol consumption summary: Joel's egg hunt couldn't have gone worse, and so he confides in the one person who has his back no matter what - his baby brother.

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Shooting the shit with his little brother wasn't something Joel Miller ever thought he'd enjoy. But, with age and maturity, there wasn't anything quite like sipping cold beers in his backyard, his brother yapping away about work, or girls, or the playoffs, or just about anything else, as they relaxed at the end of a long week. Tommy could talk, and Joel could listen, and that's how it'd always worked.

"Hey, you still got that thing I gave you," Tommy suddenly asks, after giving Joel a blow by blow of his latest conquest - some blonde he met at a bar and didn't even know the name of.

"What, this pain in my ass? Yeah."

"Very funny. Nah, I mean that ballpedo thing. Turns your balls into a torpedo."

"Balldo."

"Yeah! You still got it? If you ain't usin' it, ain't no use in it goin' to waste."

Joel lifts his beer, the condesation leaving a dark ring on his jeans, and takes a sip, averting his eyes from Tommy.

"Still got it."

It was stuffed at the bottom of his sock drawer upstairs. After Christmas, and his uncomfortable walk back home with the thing still strapped to his balls, it took him a little while to pry the thing off. The lube he'd spread over himself was turning tacky combined with your juices, and wetting it just made everything too slippery. But, eventually, he was free, and he cleaned the thing up and left it to dry, as if there would be any opportunity to use it again.

It was a happy coincidence that Sarah was with her mom again on Valentine's day, and your calendar for that day was empty - he noticed when he was fixing a drip in your kitchen sink. Given you enjoyed Christmas, he thought you might like something else too, and he was happy to be right. On Easter, he was going to leave a note for you for his little egg hunt, hoping you'd wake up Saturday morning and make your way over to his place to find the final prize.

He hadn't expected to get caught, and he hadn't expected things to be left as they were afterwards. Now the memory of all of it left a sour taste in his mouth.

"Can I go grab it? I'll take it off you."

"Nah... nah it's okay," Joel says, with a non-commital wave, as Tommy stands, taking a few steps to head inside.

"C'mon, if you ain't usin' it, I can take it. Mom never teach you to share your shit?"

"I'm always sharin' my shit with you, I said no," Joel shoots back with finality, unable to stop himself from mumbling into the rim of his beer. "You wouldn't want it now anyway."

Tommy was never one for being quick to catch on, and for that Joel was grateful. Though, maybe this time he underestimated his little brother. Tommy still makes a move to head inside, likely to rifle through his shit to find the toy he'd given Joel so long ago, but he stops in his tracks before pulling the patio door open.

"Holy shit," is all Tommy says. "Holy shit."

"You remember you're an asshole again?"

"You used the fuckin' ball thing?!"

Joel's silence says all Tommy needs to know.

"You gave yourself a dick for balls and you didn't tell me? Fuck I've been wonderin' about that thing ever since I gave it to you. It good?"

Joel doesn't really know what to say. He doesn't want to say anything - he wants to keep his fuck up with you his own tragic little secret, but now the balldo's out of the bag, he can't exactly dodge the question. Tommy was a persistent bastard when he wanted to be, and Joel knew that he was going to be extra persistent with this.

"It... yeah. Yeah, it was good."

"Wait... fuckin' wait a minute. This mean you got a girl?!" Tommy's face lights up as he asks, and Joel can feel the color drain from his. "You got a girl and you didn't bother tellin' me? You wound me, brother."

Shaking his head, Joel takes another swig of beer, hoping it'll wash the memory of the taste of you from his mouth. It doesn't.

"Nah. Didn't get the girl."

"You fuck it up that bad?"

As much as they could piss each other off, they always had each other to fall back on. Usually, of course, it was Joel picking up the pieces for Tommy, but there was an unspoken agreement between them that meant no one was keeping score. No one owed anyone anything, they'd always be there for each other, whether it was one time or a thousand times. So, against his better judgement, Joel tells Tommy everything and, for once, Tommy listens.

"Only one thing I don't get," Tommy muses when Joel finally finishes with a sigh. "If it was a misunderstanin', what the fuck are you doin' here with me, and not over there with her, explainin' yourself?"

"She told me to leave. I don't wanna intrude any m-"

"You broke into her fuckin' house, brother, think you're long past that."

Tommy slides the patio door open, half inside, half outside, and looks back at his big brother.

"Take it from an asshole who knows - doin' nothin' ain't gonna do shit. You don't get the girl, you don't get your shit rocked. Talk to her. You got nothin' to lose. If she don't want anything to do with you, nothin' changes, and if she does, well... you get the girl, and you get your shit rocked."

He hated to admit it, but Tommy was right, and Joel had never felt so fucking stupid that he didn't come to the same conclusion sooner.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow he'd make this right.

[btsmosphere]

Supercharged | JJK (Teaser)

Get hyped!!!!!! Posting date chapter 1: 14th April

Chapter 1 is now here!

🗲summary:

It starts with a blow to the chest that changes your life. When your city’s most celebrated hero pays a visit, it turns out the noble Bolt has no trouble tossing lives aside. Lives that won't be missed. Lives like yours. Seven mysterious and powerful men give you another chance – one that starts to feel more like a curse the moment you meet golden boy Jungkook. The boy who wants you as far from his brothers as he can get you. Is it you he hates, or the blue lightning that now runs through your veins? And could it be his golden light that illuminates your heart when darkness threatens?

🗲pairing: jungkook x f!reader 🗲teaser word count: 365 🗲full fic wc: you do nOt want to know (79k...) 🗲genre: angst, action, eventual fluff, slow burn, enemies to lovers, superheroes/villains au, found family (imagine a mafia au with superpowers) 🗲rating: pg15 🗲warnings: in the teaser: none, just some tension. general fic warnings: violence with superpowers, weapons, swearing, arguing, injury, past trauma, mentions of death

>Updates every week!!

Supercharged Masterlist

a/n: guys. it's TIIIIIME!!! how many years have you heard me talk about how I was working on a superpowered jungkook story?? I started this thing four years ago so I can't believe the moment's finally come! it's been a long ride, and most of those four years was spent not writing this, but I just couldn't stay away either! I really wanted to tell this story, and now here it is and I am so happy to be able to share it💜 Let me know in a reblog, comment or ask if you want to join my taglist for this series! Over the next week before chapter 1 is released, check back as I introduce our characters👀I'm so excited for you to meet them!

As a smile was just blooming on your face, it was halted by Namjoon's next words.

“But. You aren’t ready just yet. I want you out there with us, so I’m willing to send you out sooner than I have with others before. These are unusual times, and you have to understand this will be more dangerous than I normally send rookies to. There’s work to do, with your powers, but also…

“As much as I appreciate your trust in us, I know it doesn’t extend fully. I need my team to be able to trust each other. Every single one.”

Fixing you with a hard stare to accompany his last words, he was effective in making you shrink in your seat. You knew exactly who he was talking about.

And that person was waiting for you right outside.

On leaving the office, you found Jungkook leaning up against the wall. Jin and Namjoon had hung back, leaving you alone as you emerged, and you instantly rolled your eyes. Determined not to be deterred, you kept walking down the corridor, trying to fix your eyes ahead – firmly away from the infuriating man that watched your approach.

“Scared yet?” his smirk bled through his words. You were almost upon him at this point, and he pushed away from the wall, blocking the way with his black-clad body.

Eyes flicking up to him, unimpressed, you tapped your foot.

“Why would I be scared?”

One corner of his mouth curved up, looking you in the eye as he leaned a little closer.

“We aren’t heroes, honey.”

“Thanks for spelling that out, Jungkook,” you drawled, making to step past him.

His laughter followed you while you started walking away.

“Need help packing?” he called.

“Hey, Jungkook,” Jin’s stern voice joined him, “no need. She’s not going anywhere.”

Jungkook’s silence spoke volumes.

Glancing back as you reached the end of the corridor, you were met with the livid expression that seemed so familiar. Jungkook’s eyes bulged with shock. You were sure that Jin’s hand on his shoulder was all that was holding him back.

Making the most of his eyes on you, you flashed a serene smile and walked away.

Thank you for reading!! Part 1 is coming on April 14th, and I will update every week (that's a promise, since it's already written in full!)💜

Contact me to get yourself on the tag list!

Taglist: @aianloveseven @preciouschimine @written-in-flowers @taegularities

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

341 days of foreplay

A/N: this used to be my most popular fic on here before I accidentally deleted everything. originally posted back in march/april, was some of the first smut I ever wrote, so keep that in mind, there's probably so many mistakes in this, I haven't edited it. also I changed the title, it used to be called i should've worshipped you sooner (gif in the moodboard is by my love @fightingdragonswithwho )

summary: Spencer overhears his roommate, Y/n, confess her true feelings for him.

warnings: Spencer Reid x reader, smut, roommates, drinking, chess, love confessions, kissing, orgasm denial, alcohol consumption, oral (male and female receiving), impact play, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, fingering, creampie, cumplay, dirty talk, praise, degradation, choking, spit kink, overstimulation, dom Spencer vibes 

word count: 3911

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

You had been Spencer’s roommate for almost a year now, and for all of that time, you’d been hopelessly in love with him.

You often think that if his work didn’t take him out of state so often, you’d probably come clean about your feelings much sooner.

It was Friday night, and Spencer still hadn’t come home yet, from California you think you remember him texting you a few days ago? So here you were, in the kitchen, trying to open a bottle of wine. 

“You really shouldn’t mix wine and beer”, your friend’s voice boomed from your phone.

“Well, what do you want me to do, Eleanor? Just stop drinking after 2 beers?” you mocked, struggling with the cork. “This is not a 2 beers kind of day, so yeah, I’m switching to wine since it’s the only option that I have here. It’s that or stop, which is just, no.”

Even through the screen, Eleanor gave you her best disappointed parent expression and it stung. How had she perfected that? Shaking her head, she sighed, “you really need to move out.”

Popping the wine bottle open, you pointed the corkscrew at her, “don’t,” you warned, “I don’t wanna hear about it!”

“You can’t keep living with someone that you are head over heals for! Either tell him or move out and move on.”

“Or I could just keep drinking alone on a Friday night, and then go snooping through his things.” You raised the bottle up to cheers the screen, then took a large swig of it.

“What, your gonna become an alcoholic?”

“Hey, don’t judge my coping mechanisms little miss ‘I spent 3 months' wages in 1 minute after getting dumped by Sandra’. And who was so kind as to support you and lend you some money in order to get by, oh yeah that’s right, me, your oldest friend.”

She took a deep sigh, “fine. What are we drinking?”, then you saw her pick up her phone and move to her kitchen. 

“Yes!” you squealed, “I promise, I won’t even mention him the entire evening.”

“It's just like, when he talks with his hands, which is always, which is also always because he always rambles, they are just so, urgghhh” you slurred, and bent over the kitchen counter in order to get closer to the screen, because your vision wasn’t the best at the moment. “pretty. But also like, I want to feel them everywhere on, and inside me. And the veins, oh fuck…”

Eleanor was totally spacing out on her end of the line, so you just continued. “like the other day, he got home and was soooo mad, like only once in a blue moon mad. And I know that it’s kinda wrong of me to just be lusting after him in such a tough moment for him, but damn!”, taking another gulp of your now much lighter bottle. “He just looked, god, so good.” You almost moaned. “His delicious forehead vein was popping out, fuck I just wanna lick it. Like, he gets so petty, but in the hottest way! Fucking, just bend me over right then and there, and go at it for hours!” you carelessly set the bottle down on the counter, “I’d let him do anything he’d want! and I’m talking like some Erika Lust shit. Choke me, slap me, say open up and I’ll happily let him spit in my mouth”

“God, you need to get laid,” Eleanor complained. 

“I know, but I only want him. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to even think about anyone else in that way,” you admitted. 

“Aw, babes, you will”, she said with a sad smile, then looked up to the side “oh, it’s 1:05, I’m sorry, I really need to go to bed, but we’ll talk more tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sleep well” you sighed.

“And hey, don’t go fall asleep in his bed!” she quickly added before ending the call.

“That was one time!” you said to now no one.

Feeling slightly dizzy from the alcohol in your system, you leaned your head against the cool countertop. 

Hearing the sink turn on behind you, you whipped around, startled to find the aforementioned Spencer standing there, filling the kettle with water. 

“Jesus Christ! Spencer, what are you doing here?” you screeched. 

Breathing out a small chuckle, “as far as I’m aware, Y/n, I live here.”

“Yeah, I know that, I mean what are you doing home?”

Setting down the now filled kettle in its holder to boil, he turned to you, “the case ended, ergo I’m home now. That’s how it works, Y/n.” 

He kept on saying your name, making you shutter at the way it sounded. “You just usually give a heads-up first”.

He sighed, clearly not in the mood for this conversation, “yeah, well I didn’t.” 

Maybe it had been a tough case? God, if he kept up this mood for any longer, your ovaries were going to explode. 

Suddenly remembering the topic of the convocation you just had with Eleanor, your eyes widened, “ho-how long have you been home?”

“Why?” he said with a tiny smirk.

“Oh, no, I just, I didn’t hear the door or anything” you trailed off.

“Well, you were pretty loud, so it makes sense.”

“I-“ fuck, your heartbeat was raising, “um, did you hear?”

Narrowing his eyes, looking you up and down, taking in your nervousness, “would you really let me do anything I’d want?” 

You let out a shaky breath.

“Because, Y/n,” he moved closer to you, ”there are so many things I wanna do to you.”

Not truly believing his words, you asked, “you do?”

Choosing not to answer with words, he grabbed your face and kissed you fiercely, letting his tongue dance across yours. Humming into it, the combo of the feeling of the kiss mixed with the alcohol made the world spin, so you clutched onto his forearms for support. 

Abruptly pulling away, he studied your eyes, “you’re drunk.”

“Guilty as charged!” you beamed, moving your hands down his body.

Catching them before they could touch what they desired, “no.”

“What? If you don’t want to, then why did you just kiss me?” the words rushed out of you.

Chuckling lightly, he held your hands in his, “trust me, I do.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I really like you. I’ve known it for a while.”

“You do?” you smiled as you moved to kiss him again, but he turned his head before your lips could meet.

“But your drunk.”

“So what?”

“Y/n, I can’t with good conscience just bend you over and fuck you in the kitchen when you are drunk.”

Letting go of him, you leaned back against the cold slab and spread your legs a bit, “you could though, I want you to”, grabbing ahold of his hand, you moved it between your legs, “I’m yours if you want me.”

Growling, he closed his eyes. 

“Please” you whispered, grinding into his hand, trying to find some form of relief. 

Snapping his eyes open, his hand started to move, just a bit, moving up and down over your covered pussy. “Is this what you want?”

Shuttering, you replied, “yes.”

With a smirk, his hand moved inside of your pants, cursing under his breath when he felt just how wet you were, “is this all for me?”

Lips now slightly parted, you nodded hard.

Using two fingers, he pressed hard down on your clit, drawing tight circles. Bending down to kiss along your jaw and down your neck he asked amidst the kisses, “do you really want me to choke you,-“ kiss, “slap you-“ kiss, “and spit in your pretty little mouth?”

All you could do was hum in affirmation. 

“I had no idea that you were such a dirty little whore.”

“I just- really really like you,” you choked out, hips moving of their own accord, trying to aid in the goal.

Coming up to look at your face, “good, because I really really like you too”.

A combination of his sweet words, how good he was a finding the exact right place and pressure on you, as well as just the anticipation of it all making everything heightened and so much more intense, you felt yourself getting dangerously close to cuming.

“Oh fuck, Spencer, I’m-” you moaned, clutching onto his shirt.

But then, he removed his hand.

“No, no, no, no, no-“ you breathed, trying to catch it and guide it back to your center, but he wouldn’t let you. “I was so close.”

“I know.”

“Then why did you stop?”

“Because like I said, I’m not going to fuck you when you’re drunk.” His sentence was emphasized by the click of the kettle being done boiling.

“But-“ you tried to argue, but he cut you off.

“I want the first time you cum with me to be on my cock. I wanna feel it.” He explained, then turned to grab two mugs out of a cupboard.

Standing there, slightly stunned, you tried to decipher what the next move could be. The alcohol made it virtually impossible to think of anything other than getting railed by him, so you just sat up on the counter, catching your breath and watching him brew the coffee.

After a minute, you asked quietly, “so, we just go to sleep now?”

Filling the last mug, “no”, he turned and lifted you off from where you were sitting and back to a standing position, “we are going to wait.”

“Wait?” you questioned.

Grabbing one of the mugs, he handed it to you and confirmed, “yeah. How many drinks did you have?”

Scrunching your face up, you tried to remember, “um, 3, no 4, maybe?”

Licking his lips he said, “okay. Come with me.”

Hopping after his long strides, he stopped at his chess table and sat down, motioning with his hand for you to follow suit.

“We are going to sit here until you sober up.”

“Playing chess? Of course, that would be your definition of foreplay.” You teased, but ungracefully sat down as well.

Moving your rook forward four spaces, you asked, “is this even entertaining for you? You keep on beating me in like 5 moves.” 

One step ahead of you, he quickly moved his bishop and snatched up your last surviving knight. Then turning his big brown eyes to look at you, “oh trust me, this is very entertaining for me. Might be some of the best games I’ve ever played.”

Cocking your head to the side you almost laughed, “um, no. I know I’m not a very good chess player, I know the rules and there forth can somewhat follow along, but I am nowhere near skilled enough to be an entertaining chess partner to you, dr. Reid.”

“Who said that your chess skills had anything to do with it?”

Giggling lightly, you moved a pawn and muttered, “oh.”

It was his turn again, but this time he didn’t move a piece, but simply asked you, “are you still drunk?”

Your body tensed at what the question really meant. 

“I don’t think so,” you said honestly, then deciding to joke a bit, “why, do you want me to walk in a straight line? Touch my finger to my nose?” already doing the last movement in front of him.

Smiling, he asked, “do you still want to?”

Stopping your movements, you replied completely serious, “I don’t know how that’s even a question.”

He raised his eyebrows at you, waiting for the right words.

“Yes Spencer, I still want to.” Rubbing your thighs together at the building sensation that never quite disappeared from earlier. 

His eyes were glued on you as you lowered your body to the floor, kneeling in front of him, slowly running your hands up his legs.

Reaching a hand down to your cheek, he slipped his thump inside your mouth, completely entranced, it came out as almost a whisper “show me.”

The way he looked down at you made your pussy throb. Hollowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue around his finger, you watched him work at his belt.

“Be a good girl and show me.” Taking his finger back with a pop, then used both of his hands to free his cock.

The sight made you smile. Of course, even his dick was pretty.

“Open your mouth, Y/n,” and without another thought, you opened up and stuck your tongue out. Your eyes were big and doe-like, in awe of how he looked, sitting in front of you, working himself a couple of times.

Tapping the weight against your wet tongue, he groaned, “lick it”, and so you did, slowly a few times, just on the tip, then moving your head slightly to the side so you could trace his veins all the way down to the bottom, all the while keeping your eyes locked on his.

Moving your hand up to grasp the base, stroking it lightly as you came back to the tip, swirling your tongue around it a few times before pushing it past your lips. Slowly taking him further and further in, his hands were tangled in your hair, pulling at the roots whenever you would move your tongue just right. 

Letting him move your head for you, picking the pace, how far down you would go down and how long he would hold you there, enjoying the sound of you gagging. 

After a bit, moaning, he pulled you off his now glistening cock, “I’m not gonna last if you keep that up”.

Proud of yourself, you beamed up at him, whipping your mouth and chin with the back of your hand.

Pulling you up to him, he kissed you. Moaning into it, his hands went straight to your tits, palming them softly and then whispered against your lips, “take it off, slowly”.

Pushing yourself off him, you backed up a few steps, giving him a good view. Gradually, layer by layer you striped for him, turning when you got to your pants, in order to give him the best angle. Unconsciously, he mirrored your actions, taking his own off.

When you were both completely naked, his dark eyes drank you in, “get on the couch, ass up, now.”

Your body did as he wished by its own accord. Leaning over the back of his brown leather couch, you waited eagerly for him to get closer to you, and when he did, you grinded into the feeling of his body pressed up against yours. 

Running his fingers lightly through your folds, “mhm, you’re fucking soaked.”

“Please don’t tease me anymore,” you wiggled against him, “I want you inside of me, now.”

“Oh really?” he cooed, then landed a small slap on your pussy, surprising and hard enough to make you jump a bit, “you want it that bad? Do you just wanna be my pretty little whore?”

“Please, ruin me” you whined, as you felt the head of his cock brush against your entrance.

“Wait,” he said, panic suddenly filling his voice, “I don’t have a condom.”

As he began to pull away, you wouldn’t let him, “I don’t care, please just give it to me, please Spencer.”

“You serious?”

“I’m clean, please do it. I’ll just get plan b tomorrow”, you begged.

And without any more warning, he slammed the entirety of his dick inside of you, making you lose your breath and almost turn into putty in his arms.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned into your ear, then distanced himself from you by pushing you further into the couch and straightening up himself. Gripping onto your hips, he didn’t give you a moment to get use to the feeling of how much he stretched you out, but opting for a brutal pace. The snapping of his hips made your body jump in the best way. 

As he slapped your ass, you only got that much closer to cuming. His arms went around your waist and pulled you up against him. One firmly staying there, holding you close to his warm body, the other snaked its way up your body, staying at your boobs just long enough to pinch one nipple, then finding a home softly wrapped around your neck.

His face was right beside yours, occasionally placing a sloppy kiss on your cheek, neck or shoulder. Feeling you clench around him, he asked amidst his grunts and moans, “you gonna be a good girl and cum for me, Y/n?”

When you didn’t reply, too wrapped up in the feeling of it all, he taped your cheek lightly, “huh? Are you gonna cum on my dick?” 

Seeing stars now, you had no way of getting out actual words, and when his hand came down on your cheek again, this time a little harder, you gathered just enough strength to nod lightly.

“atta girl, let me feel you,” he cooed in your ear and returned his hand to his resting place around your neck. Your eyes struggled to stay open as the orgasm rocked through you. 

Legs shaking and trying to catch your breath, his trusts slowed down. Your head lolled back against his shoulder, and he kissed your cheek. “fuck, just when I thought you couldn’t get more beautiful.”

Smiling you reached your hand up to the side of his face, “let’s move this to your bed, I think I need to lay down”, you breathed out.

“Done already?” he asked in a joking tone.

Laughing lightly, you winched at the feeling it gave, making your sensitive walls clench around him, “no, I just don’t wanna fall.”

And with another peck on your cheek, he pulled out of you, but still held you close as you moved the short distance to his bed.

When you hit the mattress, you pulled him with you, letting him fall on top of you. Gasping as he slipped inside of you again, the feeling already starting to feel like home. 

“Oh, you’re taking my cock so well” he moaned, finding a good rhythm, picking the one that made your boobs jiggle the most. “God, I love your tits,�� he thought out loud, playing with them, making you giggle a bit at the compliment. 

Craving the same sensation from before, you requested, “choke me.” He didn’t hesitate, wrapping his long fingers around your throat again, squeezing lightly at the points where your rapid heartbeat was easiest to feel. 

Your eyes were locked on each other’s, giving you a great chance to study just how blown his pupils were. Moving his big hand up, so that his thumb could rest on your bottom lip, “open” he breathed out. When you did as you were told, sticking your tongue out just enough for it to brush against his finger, his lips curled up into a proud smirk. The sensation of his spit landing on your tongue first surprised you, then did something you were not expecting it to do. You came again. Right then and there, the intimacy of the act being enough for you.

His smile only grew at the obvious signs of the power he had over you.

Then you blinked and he wasn’t above you anymore. But what he did next was enough for you to know exactly where he was. Your head shot down with a wince, to see him place sloppy kisses on your very sensitive clit. Reaching a hand down, you pulled him away, the sensation being too much. 

Head between your legs, he looked up at you, eyes sparkling, kissing your inner thigh, and muttering, “sorry, I just had to kiss you there”.

Placing your hand on his cheek, you stroked your thump up and down, then up to trace the angry vein on the side of his forehead, “just give me a second”.

Smiling, he leaned his head against your soft thigh, then turned his face to place a peck on the palm of your hand.

“mhm, okay”, you hummed after a few minutes. Spencer then sat up, pulling your tired body with him. You slumped down in his lap, like a koala, hugging your arms around him, nuzzling as close as you could. 

“You ready, Y/n?”

You hummed in reply, reaching one of your hands down to slip his dick inside of you again.

This time, you both just found a lazy and intimate rocking motion, not needing it to be hard and fast, but slow in order to make it last as long as possible. 

“fuck, I’m so close” he practically whined, “where so you want it?”

Through a string of breathy moans, you uttered one syllable, “-in- “, pulling back just enough for him to see the seriousness on your face.

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he smirked, “We already live together, you want us to start a family?” his teasing only made your walls tighten their grip around him.

His movements became more ragged and desperate, “you’re just a little cumslut, aren’t you? You want me to fill you up?” whimpering in response, you buried your face in the crook of his neck and held on tight as he pushed you over another euphoric high. 

Grunting in your ear at the feeling of you milking him, you heard, “take it, all of it”, as he throbbed deep inside of you, filling you with his cum.

Staying like that, all tangled up and breathing heavy, for who knows how long. At some point, clutching onto you, he lowered you both down to lie on the soft mattress. 

Expecting him to stay and cuddle you, he instead sat back up and leaned back to admire the mess he had made. Stroking your thigh, he breathed out, “be a good girl and spread your legs for me.”

Slowly, you pushed your knees up and spread your legs apart, hearing him curse underneath his breath. Your body jumped when you felt his fingers trace your slit, gathering up the cum that had begun to drip out of you. Crying out suddenly as he plunged in two of his fingers, hips buckling, the sensation being too much for your overstimulated cunt.

“Uh, don’t get so whiny on me right now,” he cooed, looking down at you with dark eyes. He hooked his fingers and moved them furiously, “you said you wanted to cum? Now take it!”

Even when your hips tried to move away, his fingers followed. Soon the feeling of everything being too much got another thing added onto it. How could you possibly cum again? But somehow, you did just that. Spencer always had a way of making impossible things be possible.

Your whole body was shaking and quivering as Spencer laid down next to you and wrapped his arms around you. “Holy shit,” you said among your shaky breaths.

“Well, we did have 341 days of foreplay”, he joked.

“Yeah”, you laughed, brushing your hand up and down his arm. “Hey, Spence?”

“Mhm?” he hummed into your hair.

Taking a deep breath, gathering the courage, you confessed quietly, “I love you.”

His hand came to lift your face up to meet his, touching his forehead against yours, “Y/n, I love you too, so much.”

Tilting your head up a bit, you kissed his forehead, then curled back down under his chin and fell asleep in that warm cocoon of love that was your roommate Spencer Reid.

© 2022 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[nakedtoasterr]

Male reader month | April edition

This one is late so I apologize but life happens, hopefully I can get into a rhythm of getting these done before the end of the month.

I added 3 experimental fics this time around. Two of them are character x GN reader and the other is a Fem character x Male reader. I’m hoping you all will enjoy these and please tell me if you don’t! I won’t add any in the future if that is that case

Ps: if anyone wants to help with these hmu im so slow 😰

Sfw male reader

Kittens; scoups | @seventeenficsformalereader

Scoups(?) x male reader

None listed

—

A Tease | @moonbyulsstuff

Kaidou x male reader

None listed

—

Tea at 9pm | @anystalker707

Vinsmoke Sanji x GN!Reader

babygirl sanji / wholesome relationship / reader is a writer who keeps a journal with the crew's adventures / extremely fluffy ending

—

Izuku midoryia x male reader | @odue-sp

Izuku x male reader

m/n has a problem with personal space and people touching him. m/n's quirk is tendrils, he is able to form them anywhere on his body they're usually invisible (warped areas). They're supposed to be visible but he's able to make them disappear.

Top male reader

Soft yandere Aether x MR | @dvlboy

Aether x male reader

Soft yandere aether

—

Sub/bottom Dottore and pantalone hc

@bazthefirstborn

Dottore/ pantalone x male reader

crying, (A LOT) spit, sensory deprevation, rp, bj's, (m reader recieving) just general gay men activities

—

who loves to be marked? | @chaepink

Izuku/Bakugo/kirishima x GN!reader

dom!gn!reader, suggestive, marking, biting, spanking

—

Tony Stark x Younger Poolboy Male Reader hc

@justice-maul

Tony stark x male reader

Sub Tony, age gap (not specific), porn with plot, reader is muscular and tall, manhandling kink, cum, degrading praise, humiliation, mentions of rough sex, and making out (tell me if I messed any, I didn’t double check this)

—

Bottom male reader

Daddy’s home | @dabisbratz

Gojo x male reader

light angst, daddy kink, bottom male reader, finger sucking, fingering, apology sex, dubcon (gojo’s a lil pushy but everything is consensual), dacryphilia, dirty talk, praise, biting, reader’s kinda bratty, possessiveness, established relationship, secret relationship, reader’s a regular civilian, anal sex, spit, mating press, sexualizing gojo’s thermographic xray vision, amab body terminology

—

Momo x male reader | @trafalgarya

Nsfw head canons

mommy kink, penetration, strap-on, oral (giving and receiving), soft dom!momo yaoyorozu, sub!male reader, praising kink, sex-toys, teasing, orgasm control, begging, nipple sucking, masturbation, use of "slut", a bit of ooc ig, analingus (receiving, mention of giving too)

—

The Devil comes to steal, kill, and destroy

@adoniss-tales

Gabriel x male reader

corruption kink, guided masturbation, praise kink, voyeurism, pet names (reader receiving), p.w.o.p, no actual penetration : reader is a follower of gabriel, but not an alternate. . Gabriel is referred to as "Mister Gabriel" once.

—

Ayato Petplay | @vikeii

Ayato x Male reader

pet play, established relationship, everything is consensual!!!, puppy play, mild praise kink, cockwarming, dumbification, male reader, belly bulge, mild overstim, mild nipple play, collars and leashes !! he/him pronouns for reader, amab reader, marking, biting

Hey y’all!!! I know I’m super extra late but I really did try… I’ll do my best to start earlier in the month so this doesn’t happen again I’m so sorry guys. Tysm for all the support on my last post!!! Seeing all the reposts and hearts really motivated me to finish this one. ❤️❤️

Extra apologies to the ppl I messaged when it was 3 am over here. I’m not my best when I’m bout ready to pass out

[turtlecleric]

I'm in Hell

SPOILERS FOR SYMPHONY CHAPTER 22 - THIS POST IS LONG YOU'VE BEEN WARNED

I'm so Unwell. I have never had any misunderstandings like the thing with Donnie, but I have been betrayed by someone who was my best friend for years, so this chapter... it's hitting me really, really hard.

---

When Leo first met Vi, he was studying her a lot. Remember the near-physical weight his scrutiny had felt like? You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. ... like a pinned rabbit ... you see an obsidian edge beneath his smile that feels a little sharp as you lean into it.

And then later in her apartment:

[Leo talking] “…You know what really got me interested in talking to you?”

“What?” you ask, tilting your head. 

“Donnie came back from talking with April and he was talking about you."

This is literally Vi and Leo's first time meeting - I don't think Leo started to really hate her until after she started coming to the Lair and he saw how Donnie reacted to her presence, but he mentions that Donnie talked about her already. It's framed within Vi's mind as him being careful with his family. He's the leader, he's careful around new people, he wants to make sure she isn't a threat, etc. But even though this is before the touch thing started, there could've been the seed of hatred already there depending on how Donnie spoke about Vi to Leo.

---

He [Leo] peers at you like he can read your life story where it’s written on your soul. ... “…You don’t have a lot of friends, do you?” he asks, his voice soft and yet cutting you all the same.

and this:

[Vi talking] “I had a lot of fun tonight. I’d… like to have more nights like this one. To. To have a family. If I can.” “You can,” he [Leo] says

He knew from the first fucking time he met her that she was lonely. That she wanted friends, wanted a family, wanted to belong. He knew that better than anyone else in the family, not only because of her saying this to him but also because of how well he reads people and how much time he spent with her. He's the only one who has seen her in her apartment, too, caught her in those few vulnerable moments in her home. I'm so fucking angry.

There are so many times in the fic that... I can't even articulate... here's some quotes early on -> "you hate how much you like this guy [Leo]" and "you smile when you see [the text notification is from] Leo" and when Vi is sick in the store she says "I miss Leo" and on and on. And that whole fucking time! He was!! UGH!!!

---

When Vi agrees to make Leo some bread so that maybe he can get some of Donnie's apology cookies he texts her "ttyl i gotta go rub this in donnie’s face" and yeah that's him being a little shit as always, but it's ALSO proof of him using EVEN THEIR PRIVATE TEXT CONVERSATIONS as ammunition rile up Donnie.

---

Hey look! Bits that hit different/hint at more going on/might be Leo's mask slipping!

“How long do we hafta wait before she ain’t a guest anymore?” Raph asks, causing you to snort a laugh. 

“That’s up to Donnie,” Leo says, voice heavy with an undercurrent of meaning you’re not picking up on, causing you to look at him with a raised eyebrow. He smirks, reaching over to poke your cheek with his finger. “Y’know. He’s the one who met you first, and all that.” 

…Something tells you it’s more than that, but he’s good enough at hiding it that you don’t feel comfortable calling him on it in front of the others.

...

you have no idea how you fit in [to the family], and Leo had all but told you that the space is here, ready and emblazoned with your name on it. You don’t quite see it yet, even if he apparently does.

...

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. It’s complicated,” Leo says easily, and it’s only just, but you pick out the thread of iron bars in his tone, ready to come crashing down if you push even a little too hard. So, you don’t.

“Okay,” you say easily, causing him to get that piercing look he gets sometimes, the one when he feels more like a ninja than a funny turtle man who tries to see how many cookies he can shove into his mouth at once and sends you pizza rat memes at four in the morning. “…Dude, we’ve been friends for like, a week. It’s cool that you aren’t ready to spill your guts yet, you know that, right?” 

His eyes go sharp, but then he hums and smiles. You feel like you did the night you first met him, like there’s a test here and it’s in a language you don’t understand. It’s a bit uncomfortable, prompting you to grab your own drink and swallow a healthy bit of it just to have something to do.

...

[Vi talking] “…He [Donnie] seems lonely.”

Leo hums under his breath, cutting a portal that feels a little like home. “Well, lucky he has you, then.”

...

“Uh, I met her first,” Donnie says, scowling, while Leo just gives him a smug look. 

...

You do, however, lean in while the others are occupied, whispering to Donnie, “So, ten dollars, which one of them tops?” and laughing when he chokes. You catch Leo’s eyes and give him a devious grin, spying him look to Donnie with a curiously blank look before shifting to a catty smile of his own when he looks back to you

...

“One portal home for a lovely lady,” Leo says as he steps through, his face going a little flat when he looks over your shoulder to Donnie behind you.

...

Leo is… astonishingly quiet for a moment, his face blank of anything for you to read as he stares at the piece hard. Then he looks up at you, and you see an unusually capable person that doesn’t feel like your best friend, even as much as it feels like the real Leonardo, here for the first time for you to see.

...

[Vi talking] “I don’t… I don’t like keeping secrets. Or lying. Not from people I care about.” 

The weight of Leo’s eyes is almost physical. It makes you remember that he’s asked you to keep secrets, and your eyes snap to his, wondering if that’s the reason why he’s gone still like this. “I—I haven’t told anyone. About the ninja thing, or the Krang thing. I’d never—”

“I know,” Leo interrupts, threading his hand through your hair so he can cup your nape and press your forehead to his own. “I trust you.” You release a sigh of relief, nodding. “I’m just… thinking it might be time for us to repay that back.” 

You blink, gaze darting between his eyes. “I don’t… what do you mean?”

“We’re a pretty close-knit family. There’s a lot of… baggage. A lot of history. A lot of stuff we haven’t told you. And it’s… it’s starting to feel a little disrespectful,” he says, looking a bit displeased. “You’re one of us. It’s only fair.”

---

We all know about the constant comments Leo makes about being Vi's "favorite turtle" and "best friend" in front of the others/in the group chat. He talks in Chapter 22 about purposefully draping himself across her and pulling her close, hugging her, scenting her, touching her in front of Donnie to piss Donnie off. But there's all these other little things that seemed so innocent at the time and now I'm losing my mind wondering about each of them, wondering - is that something he did with malicious intent? How many nice things were ONLY done to piss off Donnie? There are so many times that he compliments her - for example:

“What? I can’t compliment my bestie and her fine legs?” Leo coos, reaching over and flicking your nose gently.

“Leonardo,” Donnie warns, folding his arms.

And I remember, during my second read through after I finished Chapter 20, being so happy and grateful that Leo was pretty consistently giving her compliments, because she deserves to be complimented and taken care of and loved, because she deserves good friends who hype her up, and this WHOLE TIME-

(Side note - that time that Leo complains she smells like Donnie's lab, he shoves her away and she falls to the floor. First read, it's just Leo being playful. Second read, I wonder... is that a little bit of his frustration getting out of him in a physical way? He shoved her to the fucking floor, and then, once Donnie shows up, Leo pats the cushion next to him for Vi to sit by him. Then he wraps his arm around her and pulls her in close to smell her. But that's only after Donnie shows up.)

When Mikey takes Vi's So-Shell profile picture -> “Wha—?” you start, only to feel Leo leaning in to smoosh his cheek against yours, the distinct feeling of bunny ears brushing the back of your skull. Once again, this is in front of Donnie. Plus it's for her profile picture, so that means every time Donnie sees her So-Shell profile he'll see Leo in the picture, too. Leo was also famously the first like on her first So-Shell post and gets her to always leave nice comments/emojis on his thirst traps.

When she comes to the Lair to practice with her viola, Leo offers up HIS room first, and only once she declines does he -> “Ugh, fine, you are so boring,” he says, and removing his arm, he shoves at your shoulders hard and pushes you through the portal. (Pushing her onto the floor, pushing her through the portal... he's kind of rough with her in the beginning, and I figured it was just because he's haha silly funny turtle man, physical comedy, joking around whatever but... again I wonder. Is he letting himself be a little rough as a way to express his true feelings?)

God, all these little things that... might have an ulterior motive and might not.

It's around the time Vi gets bruised up by that guy at the coffee shop that Leo seems to start actually acting like a real friend, in my opinion. “…You don’t even get how incredible you are, do you?” he asks, causing you to roll your eyes. “You seriously don’t see it.” 

The very next chapter he gets a glimpse of her being anxious over not being able to play, while she notices that he looks tired, invites him to listen to music and lets him sleep on her back, and in that chapter it says: you sit, quiet, letting him use you. My second read through, this line hit me hard because I KEPT noticing that she really does nothing but GIVE and I feel like she's constantly doing things to be useful to others. And now, as I'm skimming through a third time, it turns out that... yeah. Yeah. He was fucking using her. In Chapter 22, Leo says "then you reach out and touch me in a way no one has. You’ve helped me, even though I was just using you" and I'm thinking this is the moment that that really started. When she first let him sleep on her. And that's also the first time he churrs with her. After that, he gets her really nice sushi, and she thinks he's guilty for drooling all over for her, but I think maybe he was guilty because he's starting to realize how nice she is and how shitty it is that he's using her like that, even though he does continue those manipulative behaviors.

---

He sighs, his face going openly affectionate. “…You’re so…” 

What he thinks you are, you don’t know, as he chooses instead to pull you into a hug. You go easily, seeking the comfort of his embrace, hoping he can feel in your arms that you truly do mean what you said. 

“You know, instead of sorry, you should say—” Leo says, though as his face gets close to your throat, his mouth snaps shut and he goes still in a manner that reminds you a little of Donnie. 

“…Leo?” you ask, going to pull back from the hug to look into his face only to feel his hands go tight on your back, holding you close while he dips his beak to your skin and inhales. When he does pull back, he’s got a look of shock on his face that he quickly schools into something more neutral, but barely. 

This is where he smells Donnie on you for the first time, and the guilt he was starting to feel, the actual genuine affection he was developing for her, may have then been interrupted/overshadowed by his anger.

Vi was right to say she isn't gonna go back and examine every detail, because it's so fucking MUDDY! There are glimpses of true softness from him sprinkled throughout with him ALSO still hanging over her and doing shit that pisses Donnie off on purpose. And then of course the scene with Leo in the kitchen when he scares her, where we get the first big glimpse into his true anger about the whole situation, where we see him being sharp and cutting and dismissive and- I'm not going to paste in that whole scene, but he's so, so, SO angry. When she has that visceral, terrified reaction, he feels so bad (I do think he was genuinely, truly horrified that he scared her), but then he finds out that Vi and Donnie are (as far as Vi is aware) dating, followed by her telling him that Donnie misses touching his brothers, misses hugs, followed by Leo deciding to tell Vi about all the family secrets... so he's wrestling with this rage and jealousy, but he's also starting to really accept her as family (I think, since he shared the info about the Krang, about Lou Jitsu, about Casey, since he asked for her help)...

It kills me that, after that, he saw her trying so hard to help, like when she went to the library and got books on PTSD and fell asleep taking notes and she wakes up with a blanket covering her and a little blue heart on a note - he saw her doing that, on top of everything else she CONSTANTLY does for other people, for his family, and HE STILL, EVEN AFTER THAT, DOES SHIT THAT'S MANIPULATIVE. THE 4TH OF JULY PARTY, FOR EXAMPLE. “What she said,” Leo purrs, his fingers fluttering on your stomach as his eyes cut off to the side. He has a sharp look to his features that you’re a bit too drunk to dissect, so you just ignore it. He HAS to be looking at Donnie, here.

(Side note - we still don't know what Leo was doing when Vi was in the shower getting ready for the party... if anything. Maybe he really was eating cookies.)

It's at the end of the party that he smells sex on Vi, I think, for the first time. And the following chapter is when he starts avoiding Vi, and she goes to confront him and he says he's "Thinking about things. About what I want.” And THAT'S when he finally stops his bullshit. Ch 22 - "I stopped. Completely. After we talked in my room.”

---

I'm still working on fully re-reading Chapters 17+ until I make it back up to 22 and putting more thoughts into that post, but. Dear God. Sam is a genius and I'm so angry at myself. I had been so confused and angry with Donnie, when in reality he truly DID NOT KNOW about the misunderstanding between him and Vi. Meanwhile, as I'm fawning over Leo and so happy Vi has him and so grateful he's been such a good friend to her... he was the one using her, this whole time. I cannot believe it. I'm SICK with rage. I can't imagine how Vi could possibly... I can't... FUCK dude

[milkytheholy1]

TMNT Masterlist

2003:

Leo:

Third base - Leo x Female Reader

Hey everyone, I currently have two requests left to do but I really want to get some stories that I personally came up with as well. I really want to try writing for different versions of the turts besides 2012 and Rise even if they are my fav versions. Sorry if the character interactions are a bit iffy in this one, I haven't seen much of the 2003 series I'm only up to season 2.

Donnie:

Drawn to you - Donnie x GN Reader

No, the tech-savvy turtle was drawn to you by your persistence, by the way you poured yourself into your work, how you understood the need to complete something no matter how long it took.

Mikey:

Turtle titan to the rescue! - Mikey x Female Reader

Okay so far warning, I haven’t really watched past season 3 of the 2003 series, I have been working my way through it though. So some characters might not sound or act like how they should from the show and I might end up getting some stuff wrong, so sorry in advance. This story will flip between 1st and 3rd person narrative.

2012:

All Turtles:

Turtle Power part 1

What if you included even more turtles in the hit tmnt movie, TMNT:Turtles Forever? This isn't an X Reader fic and takes places in the 2012 universe...well, for the start at least.

Leo:

Dear diary - Leo x GN Reader

Leo practicing how to ask them out with many many scripts for acting in front of a mirror:") or maybe they find out about his diary! You can pick

A confident strut - Leo x GN Reader

Went with the first one since it's been some time since I wrote for my 2012 boy! This is going to be set before the whole sister reveal, but I wanna make it clear that I do not ship Karai and Leo together cause that shit is gross. Enjoy!

I heard you - Leo x Female Reader

The reader,who has a crush on Leo, waits by Leo's side for him to wake up in the farm house and she is so relieved when he wakes up after months

Not traditional - Leo x Male Reader

The reader is giving Leo a whole sexuality crisis so Leo asks April if it's weird for a guy to like another guy and April reassures him that it's perfectly normal, and later that week Leo accidentally slips that he likes (y/n) and in a flash the have this little moment of understanding that they both like each other and want to be more than friends.

Goodbye Leonardo part 1 - Leo x Female Reader

I know what you're thinking, two stories in one night? This is somewhat based on the season four episode: Broken Foot. Also sorry it's so long but I had to fill in some blanks to get to the build-up of the story and sorry for the rushed ending it's currently past midnight where I'm from and I'm very tired.

Goodbye Leonardo part 2 - Leo x Female Reader

Okay, okay, you'll get your stinking part 2. This is probably one of the most requested fics I've ever done, the original intention was to leave it as a standalone fic. But, because you all seem eager for more I eventually broke and decided to do it. This is set a few years after the original and doesn't follow the episode 'Broken Foot' like the original oneshot. In my opinion, it's also waaay more angsty and it might actually be sadder than the first one. So I hope the wait was worth it, enjoy!

Donnie:

Wrong about me - Donnie x Female Reader

Donnie gets cheated on by April and (y/n) finds out and hurts April's feelings then comforts Donnie?

Hot - Donnie x Female Reader

Donnie was talking about some science stuff the last 20 minutes, but reader can't fully pay attention to what he's saying because they're just thinking about his voice, his gestures and everything. They think "don't you realize how hot you are?", but Donnie stops talking and reader realizes they just said that out loud and now they want to die.

Happy birthday - Donnie x GN Reader

it’s the reader’s birthday and the turtles just find out and they have to quickly set up a surprise birthday for the reader.

Well done science boy - Donnie x GN Reader

Had this idea in my head for a few days so thought I'd post it, I wanted to make it a shorter story than what I normally do but I got too lost in it and it ended up being just as long, oops. Hope you enjoy!

Hello nurse - Donnie x Female Reader

Literally did this so I could pull off one reference, that's all. Enjoy!

Raph:

Hots for you - Raph x Female Reader

Raph finds out that his girlfriend is bisexual?

Heard you from a mile away - Raph x GN Reader

not going to lie I had to search up what it meant, decided to do Raph since i've never written for him before in the 2012 version. So if this comes across as out of character, apologies. Anyway, enjoy!

2014/2016: Leo:

Red lips - Leo x Female Reader

“Don’t give me that face, it’s so cute I might not be able to hold back.”

Donnie:

Five years - Donnie x Female Reader

Donnie creates a portal that transports them to 2021.

Five years alt ending - Donnie x Female Reader

It’s weird how many people have asked me for them to have kids, but I guess if that’s what you guys want to see then here is a short version 2, if you will, of five years. Be sure to read the original or it won’t really make much sense, this is just the ending. Enjoy!

Life is a dream part 1 - Donnie x GN Reader

You felt the small vibrations of your phone in your pocket, pulling it out you saw Donnie was once again calling you crap, "H-hey Donnie, I promise I'm on Allen Street. I'm like less than a minute away." you panted into the device. You could hear his sigh through the speaker, "Don't worry about it, I'm just wasting valuable pop tart time." he joked, your laughter was his reward.

Part 2 - Donnie x GN Reader

Speaking of the brothers, Mikey was sat playing some video games while leaning over to slurp his coke, you could hear panting and the sounds of something being destroyed coming from the dojo Raph. Finally taking lighter steps into the lair, you could smell a sweet fragrance waft through the air Leo.

Part 3 - Donnie x GN Reader

"Do you remember that video where the cat plays chopsticks with the chopsticks?" Mikey asked, pushing aside Donnie and getting closer to your face. You flinched at his close proximity, your mind still trying to adjust to your bright surroundings. "Can we focus here?" Leo argued, pulling Mikey away from you, he securely wrapped his arm around his younger brother in case he felt the need to jump at you again.

Final part - Donnie x GN Reader

"What?" he asked, "Can I ask you something?" You pondered why you were willing to tell Raph some of your deep, dark thoughts and not someone like Donatello "It's a free country," he quipped going back to his knitting. "Right," you said, glancing down to avoid making eye contact "It's just that...do you think- feel like something is off?"

Mikey:

Parading in style - Mikey x Male Reader

So I don’t know much about pride parades in NYC but I can only imagine they’re triple the ones from where I’m from, I’m also not going to give you a description of Mikey’s human form as that can be up to you. I’ve learned from experience that everyone has a different view of these characters and it’s unfair to the reader to force them to take my view of what he could look like, so yeah he looks like whatever you want him to. Hope you enjoy!

Raph:

A cold night in new  - Raph x Female Reader

Reader's apartment building's heat went out during a really chilly spring day, so when raph comes over he's all like "why tf does she have the thermostat on 5 degrees", but then he finds her cuddled up with tons of blankets on the couch, watching tv. after turning down the volume, reader explains the situation with the heat while shivering and clutching the blankets. raph has a brilliant plan for this.

Begging - Raph x Female Reader

Bayverse Raph and his S.O get into a huge fight and he hurts her feelings and Raph found her on the rooftop crying and he asks for forgiveness

Seeing you - Raph x Female Reader

The reader feels invisible and lonely, so she confides in Raph and telling him how her current boyfriend is using and abusing her. Then later on Raph confesses his feelings for the reader but her abusive boyfriend catches the reader and raph together.

I promise - Raph x Female Reader

The reader has scars from her mother and she shows Raph while crying about them and Raph listens and comforts her.tumblr

[sailor-aviator]

Hey, so...

This is going to be a LONG post, so please bare with me.

I've been doing a LOT of thinking the past week about what fics I'm doing and when. I've made some decisions that some people are probably not going to like, and I completely understand that, but at the end of the day, it's my blog and my time. I know there have been some fics that people have been very excited for, but unfortunately, things change.

As of right now, Til the Summer Comes Again is getting shelved until sometime in November. I love the fic, and I want to finish it, but I do think it'll be a lot more fun to do in the winter considering it's a Jack Frost fic. This past winter was really hectic for me considering I started a new job after being unemployed for a couple of months, and with the stress of all that and the pressure for other fics, it definitely fell by the wayside. The fic idea is something so special to me, which is why I'm shelving it instead of scrapping it altogether. We will see Jack Frost!Bob again in November!

I am also scrapping my Hadestown fic (In Spite of the Way). I'm doing this because it's such a specific story, and unfortunately, I just don't see myself being able to add anything new or interesting to the story at hand. It would just be a complete retelling of the story that's already there, and that's not something that I want to do.

I am also tabling my Studio Ghibli fics. I'm not sure if I'll ever come back to them, but they've been pushed to the side for so long that it just doesn't make sense to have them on my masterlist when it's becoming clear that other things are drawing my interests away. I'd love to re-explore them farther down the line, but for now, Our Hill of Stars and The Word of the Crooked are being taken off my masterlist. Whisper in the Wind I believe will be started come early September or so and be a part of the Autumn lineup.

Now that Meet Me at the Sea is done, my focus is going to be on finishing Fool's Fare and updating the Dagger Posse Universe here and there. Fool's Fare is most likely to be done sometime in April if I had to guess, which means...

It's time to talk the Sailor-Aviator Summer Cinematic Release schedule!

As we all know, I've just announced the MMATS stand-alone sequel: Down By the Bay featuring one Bradley Bradshaw. But what else is coming this summer? Let's talk about it!

There have been a few of you waiting for my Indiana Jones!Jake fic aka Fortune & Glory, and I'm so excited to announce that it is on the roster for this summer! Tune in to follow Jake and Bucket as they try to secure the legendary staff of Moses before the Nazis do!

Next up on the roster is the long-awaited Mafia fic! Titled after the age-old idiom, Two Birds follows the reader as they unwittingly catch the eye of not one, but two mafia bosses, both standing as the dual heads of the Dagger Syndicate. Two Birds is a M x F x M featuring Jake "Hangman" Seresin and Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw (No Hangster).

I'm hoping to start these fics anywhere from Mid-May to early June, so stay tuned!!

Meanwhile, I will be dedicating some time to the DPU as well, trying to wrap up some fics within that to hopefully have it finished (or down to the last one) by the summer's end.

If you've stuck around this long, I just want to say thank you. Not only for reading this monster of a post, but for continuing to read my work and for following and supporting me through everything! You guys are the best! Until next time~

[epicstuckyficrecs]

Epic Stucky Fic Rec | February, March & April 2023

I'm alive! 😅 I started making a fic rec for February and March in the beginning of April and then I completely forgot about it... and then by the time I remembered, April was almost done so I figured I'd wait 😆

Should I make a new banner? yes. Will I? Maybe ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Complete

💙 Additional Information series by notlucy/ @notlucy (Modern AU, Coworkers, Sugard Daddy/Daddy Kink, BDSM | Explicit)

Proprietary Information (85K): Okay, so Bucky Barnes has a crush on Steve Rogers. The guy's gorgeous, talented and, oh yeah, the Chief Design Officer of the biggest tech company in the world. In other words: he's so far out of Bucky's league that he might as well be in a different stratosphere.

Preoccupations (6K): Steve doesn't usually pay much attention to the new hires. But there's something about this kid.

Brooklyn's on Fire (4K): Steve's turning thirty-seven and he really only wants one thing for his birthday.

Gimme Danger (6K): Bucky doesn't have time to explore his exhibitionist kink. He's very busy. He asks Steve about it anyway.

Remember You Well (in the Chelsea Hotel) (5K): Steve can't quite believe he has Bucky back. It seems too good to be true after the hell he endured while missing him. The universe, however, is full of surprises.

Close Call (6K): Bucky and Steve make it through two weeks of living together before the inevitable "first fight" of cohabitation. They (mostly) handle it like adults. And the makeup sex is killer, in Bucky's not-so-humble opinion.

To Sir, With Love (10K): Steve recognizes that his jealousy over Bucky's infatuation with one of his professors isn't rational, but that doesn't make it any less real. And, hey, if you can't beat them, join them, right? Besides, he's always wanted a tweed jacket.

Mergers and Acquisitions (41K): Steve and Bucky are going to the chapel, and they’re going to get married. Meanwhile, Peggy and Natasha…

💙 a day in the life by powerfulowl (StuckyFlangst) / @stuckyflangst (Post-Endgame Fix-It, Time Travel, Groundhog Day | 20K | Explicit): Steve Rogers wakes up on Tuesday October 30 1956, and doesn't seem to remember his life that well. Why does every day feel so familiar? And why does he keep getting visited by tall, dark, handsome men who remind him of Bucky?

The Day After, the Aftermath, or Whatever It Is That Feels Like a Hangover, Christmas, and His Birthday All at the Same Time by buckybarnesdeservestobehappy (hutchabelle)/ @buckybarnesdeservestobehappy (Modern AU | 1K | Mature): Bucky wakes the day after his thirtieth birthday with a hangover, a hardon, and a beautiful man sharing his bed.

Tell Me I Can Have It All by HaniTrash/ @hanitrash (Stucky in Wakanda | 1K | Explicit): Steve is tired of Bucky trying to push him away after he comes out of cryo in Wakanda. Rehashing the same argument brings up some new information that Bucky can't ignore, and makes him second-guess his decision to keep Steve at arm's length.

I'd Fuck Me by fandomfluffandfuck/ @fandomfluffandfuck (Evanstan, PWP | 6K | Explicit): When unexpectedly given a unique hotel room while on a Marvel press tour, Chris Evans ends up spending his evening alone, yet still making the most of his room... (Part 1 of Fuck This)

I'd Fuck You by fandomfluffandfuck/ @fandomfluffandfuck (Evanstan RPF | 8K | Explicit): Armed with nudes that contain enough raw sexual energy to cause nuclear explosions, Chris decides it's time to fucking blow Sebastian's mind... (Part 2 of Fuck This)

Captain Orgy 69 @ gmail.com by Gfawkes/ @gfawkesphoenixchokingonashes (Evanstan RPF, Friends to Lovers | 12K | Explicit): Or, Chris and Sebastian finally star in that rom-com they've been talking about.

My Heart Belongs to Captain Rogers by lavenderbucky (Canon | 3K | General): Steve wakes up late for his run, wears one of Bucky's shirts in public and goes slightly viral on Twitter. You know. Just an average day in his life.

5 Times Bucky Styled His Hair + 1 Time Steve Did It For Him by lavenderbucky (Post-WS | 8K | Teen): Steve is so happy to have Bucky back. His best friend is a little different to how he was in the 40s, but in some ways he's the exact same. But even if Bucky is his favourite person in the world, and even if Steve thinks his hair is really, really pretty, Steve's feelings for him are completely platonic. Right? Or: a love story, told through Bucky's hair.

WIP

💙 This is (not) a Ghost Story [COMIC] by PottersPink/ @potterspink​ (Post-WS | 11/31 | General): Steve moves into a haunted house. Well — everyone else is convinced it’s haunted, anyways.

Countermoves by cable-knit-sweater (cable_knit_sweater) (Evanstan RPF, CATFA | 11K | Explicit): Sebastian knows about Chris Evans, has to take his shot when he sees him. Chris doesn’t have a clue who Sebastian is, aside from being a pretty guy he meets in a club. The attraction is instant, and Sebastian takes Chris home, with a little detour or two. Chris thinks it’s just a one-night stand he’ll be thinking about for a long time, cursing himself for not getting the guy’s number. Until a couple of months later, he has the first table read for Captain America: The First Avenger, and he meets him again.

💙 Whip Crack by Quarra/ @quarra (Canon Divergent, Tentacle Monster Steve | 15/? | 119K | Explicit): Tentacle Monster Steve is captured by Hydra. They send in the Winter Soldier with a bull whip to break him, but as far as Steve’s concerned the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen walked in to his cell and started waving a sexy black tentacle at him. It’s love at first sight.

💙 hey now, you’re an all star (get your game on, go play) by buckyismybicycle/ @buckyismybicycle (NHL Hockey AU | 20/? | 63K | Explicit): Boston Bruins trade notorious party animal/human disaster Bucky Barnes to the Dallas Stars, and captain Steve Rogers is not impressed when Fury puts him on babysitting duties. But, as he gets to know Bucky - really gets to know Bucky - he wonders if maybe the media has got it all wrong - very, very wrong.

Re-Read

💙 Latte Art and Slow Dancing in the Dark by deadonarrival (Modern AU with powers, Daddy kink | 89K | Explicit): Bucky is a somewhat well-adjusted former army sniper that got his shoulder blown out. He took his discharge and went home to finish school. His best friends and roommates (Nat & Clint) are CIA agents and tip him off that their local Sbux is hiring. He gets a job there and meets none other than the hottest guy on earth. So how does one get a date in the most top secret government location in the US? What happens when that guy is more than just a hot dorito and wants to give Bucky everything he wants? 

Now! That’s What I Call 90’s Slow Jams by deadonarrival (Modern AU | 11K | Mature): Steve goes home for the wedding of Becca Barnes and while he’s there he runs into his old crush. Her brother. Except now they are both hot as shit. Oh no whatever will happen.

Brooklyn by togina/ @toli-a​ (Post-WS | 8,7K | Teen): "Captain America, what’s your stance on gay marriage?“ Everyone knows that, by now. Everyone but Bucky.

[crackedpumpkin]

|| ᴏʙʟɪᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴘᴛ. ꜰᴏᴜʀ || 2k12! ᴅᴏɴɴɪᴇ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ||

a/n: Hello hello, and welcome to the final part of Oblivious! :) It's very delayed and a teensy bit rushed, and I apologise for that. I've been so busy with work, studying, and planning for my trip to Korea that I've been neglecting some of my writing lately. I'm currently backlogging chapters for various fics, so my good friend @theblindhag(Hey I know this is super last minute but can you help me out lol)) can help me post them when I'm overseas!

Thank you guys for loving this mini-series I continued from kite-anon's initial request. Kite anon, if you're seeing this, look at the legacy you've left behind lololol :) Enjoy!

[ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

“What do you think?”

You do a quick spin in the knee-length sundress you’ve just tried on, April humming in thought before giving you a thumbs up and a wide smile. You grin in response, giving yourself a glance over in the mirror.

“Do you think he’ll like it?”

“He’d be an idiot.” April snorts, dismissing your concerns with a simple wave of her hand. You giggle at her remark, doing one last twirl before nodding with a satisfied smile. You like the design and might even dare say that you look relatively pretty.

You pay for the dress, leaving the store with a quick thanks to the staff who assisted you both earlier. “I guess this was a successful hangout,” April says, handing you your shopping bag with the dress inside, transferring her own into her left hand so it won’t bump against your legs while the both of you walk.

“So, who’s this guy you’re going on a date with?” April hums with a teasing glint in her eyes. You hit her shoulder lightly with a playful scoff. 

“I see, so this was all so you could get the details outta me.” 

“Can’t help it if I'm curious.” She shrugs nonchalantly in response. “So? Who’s the lucky guy?”

“...Josh…”

“Which one? We have too many in our school. I swear, it’s like a plague.” She mutters.

You hesitate. “Josh Curtis.”

She gasps. “From Chemistry class?”

You nod with a sheepish smile, her wide eyes drawing a chuckle out of you. “I heard that he had a crush on someone in our class. Turns out it was you!” She gives you an impressed nod.

You laugh, pink tinting your cheeks as you shake your head. “I’m probably not them. I barely even speak to him.” You spot a cafe up ahead, relieved by a change in subject. “Didn’t you say you were craving a croissant? I’m starving. Let’s eat!”

April lets it slide with a raised brow and knowing smile, following you inside the quiet cafe. You order a latte and sandwich for yourself, along with a croissant and Diet Coke for April. You insist on paying since April took time out of her schedule to help you shop for your date.

You both sit in a secluded corner of the cafe, your phone vibrating in your pocket. You grab it, confused when you see the black screen. Ah. You reach into your pocket again, pulling out the T-Phone and answering the call without looking.

“What’s crackin’?”

“Not much, just wondering when you were gonna come over and pick up your jacket before your date.” 

You pause, speechless, when you realise it’s Donnie on the other end. You fumble for words, April watching your visibly stressed state with an amused grin. Ever since that day when you had asked to go back to how the both of you were before, he had resumed as if nothing had happened.

Sometimes you catch the little forlorn glances he gives you, brushing it off as guilt for not accepting your feelings. It was a little off-putting, though, how quickly Donnie had adapted to it. Sure, you’re the one who suggested pretending as if the whole heartbreak thing never happened, but he was getting over it quicker than you expected.

You frown slightly. He could’ve at least pretended to be affected.

“My jacket?”

“Yeah, I helped you wash it. Getting the tomato stain out was a little hard, but I figured something out.”

You huff with a thankful smile, running your fingers through your hair. “Thanks, Don. You didn’t have to.” You say gratefully. 

“Don’t worry about it. It’s no problem,” He replies with a chuckle. You feel your heart stutter ever-so-slightly, ignoring the sensation. It’s nothing to think about.

“I’ll swing by in a while, just gotta get ready for tonight’s date.” You glance at the clock, relieved when you realise there’s more than enough time to prepare. The server comes with the food you’ve ordered, and you thank him quickly before taking a sip of your latte.

“Alright, see ya then!” He hangs up promptly after his cheerful goodbye, and you lower the phone once the monotonous dial tone reaches your ears.

“So, how’s it going with you and Donnie?” 

You choke on your coffee, coughing as you process the sudden question. April hands you some tissues, gently patting your back as she waits for your response. Your coughs finally subside, looking back up once you pull yourself together.

“It’s going fine. We’re back to being friends now.” You say calmly. Well, as calm as you can be after choking on your drink.

“Are you happy?”

You flinch. You hesitate, looking down at your cup and nibbling on your lip as you think of how to respond. It’s not that you aren’t happy. You had Donnie back as a friend and recently hung out with the rest of the boys. You even had a date!

So why do you feel like something’s missing?

You shake your head, ridding yourself of such thoughts. 

You’re happy.

You are.

You have to be, right?

“I am,” You reply confidently, though the hint of uncertainty in your words says otherwise.

“Okay then,” She begins to eat her croissant. You smirk, an idea forming in your mind for some payback. You take another casual sip of your latte, setting it down and readying your ammunition.

“So, I heard that Jones asked you out in the hallway.”

You grin as she chokes.

— — — — — — — — —

“What’s crackin’?” You greet Mikey with a fist bump as he skates past you, making your way to Donnie’s lab after Mikey hollers his greetings in response.

You pause for a moment, taking a deep breath before you push the lab doors open. You hate how you still have to do that every single time, nervousness crawling around in your stomach like a worm about to consume its very first apple.

Donnie turns around, about to greet you, before his jaw goes slack, lips parted as he stares at you. You flush, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before subtly checking for any dirt on the dress you had bought. Was your makeup smudged? You’re pretty sure it isn’t. 

You straighten your back, coming to your senses. Why were you even concerned about what Donnie thought? You’re happy with how you look. 

You do a quick spin with a confident smile. “What do you think?” 

As if your voice snaps Donnie out of his daze, he clears his throat, averting his gaze and nodding. “I-it looks good. You look good.” He stutters slightly, shifting to grab your jacket. 

You take it with a grateful smile. You hear him swallow thickly when your eyes meet, taking the jacket from his hands. 

It couldn’t be…could it?

Nah, it’s probably nothing.

“Thanks for all the flashcards, Donnie,” You add, pulling out the stack of conversation starters from your purse and handing them back to him. He takes it from you with a simple nod and grin, seemingly having composed himself.

“I hope you have fun on your date. Make sure you get back safe and stay away from the trouble hotspots that I warned you about. Call me if you need anything, and if it gets chilly, make sure you wear your jacket. If he tries to pull anything, just let me know, and he’ll never see the light of day again. Do you have enough money for the cab fare, just in case-”

“I’ll be fine, Donnie.” You cut him off with a laugh. “If anything happens, you’ll be the first I’ll call,” You promise with a playful wink. 

“No,” He sighs, shaking his head. “I’ll accompany you there from the rooftops, just in case.”

— — — — — — — — —

The walk to the cinema is quiet. 

You cast a glance at Donnie, who’s walking beside you, eyes skimming over the way the skin between his eyes furrows as his lips purse into a slight frown. You lick your dry lips, glancing back down at your hands. 

“So,” You try to break the silence, tilting your head with a smile. “How’s it going?”

“Mmhm.”

“You good?”

“Mmhm.”

“You want some pineapple pizza?”

“Mmhm.”

You stop in your tracks. Donnie doesn’t notice, too engrossed in his thoughts. You prop your hands on your hips, brows furrowed in growing concern for your friend. “I got attacked by a Kraang last night.”

“Mmhm,” He hums again but pauses, rapidly blinking once he processes your words. “You got attacked by the Kraang?” His voice is filled with disbelief, hurrying back over to you and gently taking your wrists. He lifts them with worry, checking your arms for any bruises or scrapes.

You watch him for a moment, slowly placing your hands back down. He looks back at you with an uncertain gaze, breath stuttering when you look up at him with glitter-dusted eyelids, the subtle shimmer making the colour of your eyes pop.

You chuckle. “No, silly. You just looked so distracted. I figured this would be the only way to snap you out of it.” You spot the cinema up ahead and quicken your pace, wanting to avoid whatever awkwardness this entire exchange is.

“Well, I’ll update you on what happens,” You say, hands grazing the cool metal of the fire escape’s railings. You risk a look at him, only to find that he’s already staring. 

Neither of you looks away.

The beep of your phone signals a message, serving as a medium for you to snap out of whatever the hell this staring contest is. You clear your throat, checking your phone to see a message from your date for tonight. 

“Well, looks like I gotta go.” 

You begin to walk down the stairs, but you’re stopped by a hand grasping your elbow. You turn back, looking into conflicted auburn brown eyes. You raise your brows, waiting for Donnie to speak first. 

“I- uh,” He stammers, eyes darting all over the place. His hands are clammy, and you could easily tug your arm away from him.

But you choose not to, waiting patiently in silence. 

He’s scrambling for words to form a coherent sentence, and the corner of your lips tugs up into an amused smirk. If you didn’t know better, you’d have assumed that he’s trying to confess to you or something along those lines.

But there’s no way, obviously. 

 “It’s nothing.” he finally says, meeting your gaze with a newfound resolve. You’re surprised by the sudden change in attitude, your arm falling to your side when he lets go. You’re…oddly disappointed. 

“Okay…” Your steps are unsure, casting another look over your shoulder every few steps, almost as if you’re waiting for him to call you back – to stop you. Once you’re at the bottom, however, you look back up at the shadowed figure on the rooftop, watching him turn and leave the way you came. 

Your heart grows heavier with each step away, glancing back into the empty alleyway before taking a deep breath and standing upright, rolling your shoulders back. You couldn’t have a date like this. It’d be disrespectful. You enter the cinema, looking around for Josh. 

“Hey,” You greet Josh with a warm smile, walking up to the blonde head of hair you spot easily in the crowd. He moves away from the wall he’s leaning against, sliding his phone into his jacket pocket. 

“Hey,” He grins, handing you a small bouquet of flowers. It looked clumsy, the ribbon slightly messy. It looked handmade. His eyes are anxious, seeking yours for some form of validation. 

“Josh…” It’s too sweet of him, really. Your heart melts at the flush on his cheeks, accepting the flowers with a bashful smile. You take a moment to admire them, fingers brushing against the delicate petals. You look back at him, realising he’d dressed up for today.

He coughs, adjusting the collar of his shirt with a nervous smile. “Shall we?” He offers his arm out to you. You glance back at the entrance, your smile faltering when you remember Donnie’s gone. However, those thoughts are banished from your mind with a quick shake of your head.

You take Josh’s arm, and the both of you chat away as you walk to the theatre hall where the movie’s showing. The date is relatively peaceful, and you find yourself enjoying every moment. Josh is sweet, kind, and everything you could ever want.

But he’s not Donnie.

That in itself is enough to bring on a crushing weight on your chest, finding it hard to continue brushing off the wistful glances and goofy smiles Josh sends your way. Finally, the date ends where it began, having made casual conversation in the cafe next to the cinema’s entrance. 

Now’s the hardest part.

“Josh…Listen,” You’re caught off guard when he smiles, eyes hinting at the fact that he knows what’s about to be said. His hand rubs the back of his neck, a soft chuckle falling from his lips. 

Honest and sincere blue eyes meet yours, and the words die in your throat. But he nods, a silent encouragement for you to continue. God, how could you do this to someone so sweet? 

“I’m sorry,” You start, cheeks burning in shame. “I really appreciate everything you’ve done, and I really hope we can continue to be friends still… Would that be okay…?” 

He’s silent for a moment. “Sure. I’d like that.” He replies breathlessly, though his words are resigned. Your heart feels as if it’s torn in two, but he catches your eyes, smiling lightheartedly. “He must really be something, huh.”

“Yeah.” You manage a nod. 

“Well, I hope everything works out for you. You can keep the flowers, by the way.” He gestures at the bouquet you’ve placed on the table. “They made you smile, and I’m happy enough with that.”

If you didn’t already feel horrible for turning down a gentleman like him, you definitely feel awful now. “Thank you. I enjoyed today.”

He stands up, hands in his pockets as he flashes you a grin.

“No problem.”

— — — — — — — — —

He wants to stop you. To tell you never to go near this ‘Josh’ guy ever again. 

He pauses, steps slowing to a halt when he sees you smiling at something the attractive boy beside you quips. 

This is wrong.

You didn’t have a thing for blue eyes. You preferred earthy tones. You preferred him.

Donnie watches you wave goodbye, walking past the alleyway he’s hiding in. You’re a few steps away from passing it. His heart stings in his chest, sucking in a harsh breath through his teeth with a wince. 

You’re about to leave.

He feels nauseous. His stomach lurches slightly, the sensation enough to make him feel horrible. He didn’t understand why he felt this way, only that he was sure he’d lose you forever if he let you go now.

He doesn’t know what overcomes him, vaguely registering hurried steps, his arms reaching out to you. You turn at that exact moment, catching a glimpse of him in the corner of your eyes before he sees his hand wrap around your wrist.

You’re tugged back, falling into Donnie’s arms as your back presses against his plastron. Your breath hitches in your chest at the sudden contact. You don’t dare to look behind you. 

You’re scared of what you’ll see. 

You feel him inhale shakily, his warm breath sending tingles down your spine. His fingers curl around your wrist, holding it firmly. His touch is electrifying, but you dare not break the silence. 

Your cheeks warm when he moves to wrap his arms around you, holding you flush against him. You can’t take it anymore; you’re sure your face is the exact colour of the traffic light only a few feet away. 

You part your lips, afraid to let even a single word slip past them. Maybe your voice will come out shaky. You swallow thickly, willing your heart to stop beating so goddamn loudly in your chest. You hesitate.

“Donnie?”

— — — — — — — — —

tags:

@cowabunga101

@urfavarab

@mellytumbles

@etherealyblue

@shakeyourtrees

@theblindhag

@mikavoltron

@creat0r-cat

@gingerdraw-blog

[writingshushf1]

Lover - chapter 1

Summary: the next 4 minutes have decided your whole life.

Rating: +16

Warnings: unplanned pregnancy, grief, mention of death, drinking during (unknown) pregnancy, mention of abortion.

Word count: 3.7k

Note: some fluffy mick x you baby fic! but it’s not what it seems- so, jdssjdjssjd i hope you guys enjoy! this one is already completed so i’ll post every 2-3 days, also available on AO3.

 masterlist

APRIL, 2024.

“The smell here is very strong, not liking it.”

"You'll get used to it."

You were walking around the paddock with Sebastian Vettel; he was your godfather and the fatherly figure you had after your father died, his wife also played an important part of your life, you even spent some holidays with them. Now, he was guiding you to meet one of his “paddock kids”. First, it was Charles Leclerc, he was nice with you two, loving the idea of being important enough for the german driver. Then, it was Lewis, he wasn’t one of his “kids”, but a real close friend of his; the Mercedes’ driver was also very nice towards you. And the last one, Mick Schumacher. The other blonde was the closest to Vettel, you heard of him a lot, but never had the time to meet him, your dad hated the sport for some reason - it was ironic, because one of his closest friends was a racing driver.

The boy was exceptionally nice, yet very shy towards you. His blonde hair was tidy, his racing fireproofs down to his waist, showing the shirt of his team, your godfather told you that he changed from Haas to a new one this year, so his hopes were up for possible podiums and wins. The older german excused himself for a while and you had the time to properly talk.

“I heard of you, a lot.” You said, adjusting your cap.

“Same.” He smiled. “So… How come we didn't meet before?”

“Well… Seb is indeed my godfather, but my dad hated Formula 1. Or any sport that involves vehicles.” The blonde chuckled and you felt your heart flutter, it was weird, how fast you were feeling tipsy for someone you just met. “It’s ironic! I know!”

“Did you lie to your dad about going out with your godfather and ended up getting here?”

“I wish.” You smiled.

Before you could explain, he was back to you two.

“Let’s go to our seats? Mick here is the nicest person and gave us access to his garage .”

“I still can’t get over that you retired, uncle.” You said. “See you after the race!”

“See you, guys.”

You walked with Vettel and sat down. Media knew you very well, since you were a kid, even though your dad didn���t allow you to go on races, you would often be seen with Sebastian and his family. He liked to spoil you and in some way, you were the older sibling to his kids.

It was actually weird that Mick and you never crossed paths before, as long as you knew, his dad was close to the german. Maybe it wasn’t the right time.

Vettel and you were closely watching everything that was happening, the older would explain to you things that you didn’t understand. You found that the sport was actually interesting, however you were getting nauseous and your head felt like it was spinning. You grabbed your godfather’s arm lightly.

“Hey… Can you get some water for me? I’m feeling a little sick.”

“Yes, stay here. Anything else?”

“Some painkillers? My head is pounding.”

Soon he got back with what you needed and you could at least put up with the rest of the race. That was weird, you usually didn’t feel sick, or at least not that badly in the middle of the day. Sebastian kept looking at you, he was very worried about your state, but still cheered for Mick when he got P4. The retired driver explained that he was keeping a good pace since the beginning of the season and now it was the closest to a podium, they were hoping by the next race he would get into at least 3rd place.

After the race, you waited longer to meet with Mick and walked together till the parking place, now with only a few fans.

“So… There will be a gathering later, in Ocon’s place… Do you want to join us?” He asked for both of you.

“Nah, I’m too old for this, but you two should go!” Vettel put his arms around both of you. “ Especially you, Olli.”

“Fine! I’ll go, just let me back at my hotel room and change?” You said. “And we agreed to never use that nickname again.”

“But what should I call you then?” Seb loved to tease you with that, Mick looked confused at both of us.

“By my name!”

“Uhm… Can I ask why?”

“Yes!” Of course, he was going to embarrass you. “So, when she was younger, she used to eat trolli gummy bears a lot, but had trouble saying the ‘tr’... And I thought it was the cutest and refused to call her anything except for Olli.”

“I was four.”

“Still the cutest.”

“You want to kill me with embarrassment.”

“I thought it was very cute.” Schumacher intervened into the conversation.

“See? I’m a genius.”

“You’re too old, go to your hotel room to sleep!” You said, the three of you laughing.

…............................

You were nervous, no one actually knew you there except for Mick, so the moment you walked in with him, people got closer to him, talking and pulling him, while you stood there, being recognized as “the girl who Sebastian took to the paddock”. The blonde noticed how you were looking like a deer in headlights, so he got you closer and introduced you to people.

The night was going fine, you, Schumacher, three of his friends - that you learnt they were Ocon, Stroll, Albon and their significant others were sitting on the balcony, drinking different types of alcoholic drinks and talking shit about life.

“So, how could we have never seen you before? I mean, paparazzi pictures outside yes, but… Never around.” Esteban asked, he was drunk and genuinely curious.

“My dad hated Formula One, so he never let me be around it.” You smiled, remembering the memories. “I told Mick that and how funny it was one of his closest friends was a four time world champion.”

“Was? But you still go around with Seb.”

“Well…” That was the hard part. It’s been two years already, however it would still hurt you every time you have to tell someone new. You felt tears prick your eyes. “My dad died, it’s been a while actually.” They all felt silent. “He was sick, very sick and it got to a point that there was no way of him being what he was.” You sighed and felt a hand on your shoulder from Schumacher. “We didn’t know how his state actually was. Decided to turn off the machines, it was better than maybe to wake him up to see if it had any brain activity and see him suffering.”

“Wow, that was deep, sorry.”

“It’s okay! I’m happy that I spent the rest of his time with him. I try to always remember him with smiles.” You took another sip, feeling your stomach reject that, so you put the drink aside. “We should always remember people with happy memories, it’s how they would like to be remembered.”

“That’s beautiful.” Mick smiled at you, squeezing your shoulder.

“Who wants more booze?” Lance broke the sad moment because of his drunk self- and you were grateful for that.

Everyone laughed loudly and he got more alcoholic drinks for everyone, but you refused, taking the sparkling water.

“Are you ok, girl? Not the biggest fan?” Elena asked you.

“Not feeling the best. I’ve been feeling weird all day.”

“Did you check the last time you got your period? Maybe there’s a little Mick coming soon.”

“No!” You said out loud, hiding your face with your hands. “Girl... Just friends, nothing else.” You laughed along. “I hope that was a joke.”

You looked at the blonde, who had bright red cheeks, waiting for him to give you support on the answer.

“Yeah, it would be pretty weird-”

“I was a joke, relax you two.” Elena squeezed your shoulder in reassurance.

“And I’m not pregnant. Impossible. It’s been a while that I don’t have a nice time with anyone.” You cringed right after that, earning a sweet smile from the girls, who giggled.

“It’s ok, we’ve all been through that.” Stroll got on the subject again, being even more drunk than before.

“Someone will need to carry him out of here.” Albon commented.

“He’ll sleep on the sofa, probably.” Ocon spoke.

….....................................

It was around 3am when Mick offered you a ride home, he didn’t drink anything because he knew he was the assigned driver for Albon and Lily - and now you too, not that he hoped all night that you accepted going with him. You were the last one to be dropped off before he went back to his hotel. The movement of the car was making you sick, your eyes were closed, trying to not feel worse than you’ve been after that last drink. Your throat was burning and the sensation was causing the symptoms to be even worse; the car stopping and going back again was driving you mad.

“Mick.” He was too focused on the road and didn’t listen. “Mick.” You called again, which took him out of his trance.

“What?”

“Stop the car.”

“Why? Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” You took a deep breath, however it was a bad idea. “I’m going to throw up and I don’t want to do that in your car.”

He quickly entered an empty street, stopping suddenly. You opened the door and walked a few steps, until you couldn’t hold anymore, putting everything out of your body. The german got out of the car and closed the doors, running towards you, pulling your accessories and some strands of your hair back. His hands were cold against your body.

“God, this feels awful.” You let go of his touch, it felt too much for you, everything was overwhelming in that moment.

“Do you need me to take you to the hospital?”

“I’m fine, Mick. Maybe that drink didn’t sit right with me. Please, just... Take me to my hotel, I’m exhausted.”

“Okay, but I’ll leave my phone number, in case you don’t want to wake Seb up.”

“Fine. Thank you.”

It still had twenty minutes before you arrived at your hotel, so you ended up drifting off and sleeping on the passenger’s seat. Schumacher was looking at you a few times, smiling at the fact you slept so quickly; he took some of the hair that was sticking to your face due to the sweat, but feeling your skin was cold, so he took his coat from the backseat and put it on top of you.

When you arrived, he squeezed your shoulder slightly, calling your name.

“Hey, we’re here. Do you want me to take you to your room?”

You woke up, taking off your seatbelt and his jacket. “No, I’m fine, I swear. I’ll only call you if it’s an emergency.”

“Right. I’ll believe in you.”

You walked out of his car, getting into your hotel room next to Vettel’s. You got naked and entered the shower, letting the warm water run through your body, calming your nerves. After a long time in the shower, you brushed your teeth and laid on the bed, saving Schumacher's number.

i’m alive, lol

going to sleep

see u

mick: thank god

good night

see u

…................................................................

The next morning, you woke up feeling horrible, with morning sickness, terrible headache. It felt like even though you didn't sleep. Normally, you would think this was some bad hangover, however, things were hitting you differently. One thing you could be sure, you weren't pregnant, the last time you did a test, it came back negative.

You got up, feeling the same as last night, running towards the bathroom and throwing up. Probably it was all the junk food you ate in those last days. You took a shower and changed your outfit; when you were brushing your teeth, a soft knock on your door could be heard.

"Hey, Olli, it's Seb. Good morning."

You smiled, finishing and going towards the door and opening to him.

"Good morning. How are you?" He walked in and opened the curtains before sitting on the couch.

"Me? I'm fine. I want to know about you. Mick left a message in the middle of the night saying you weren't feeling good."

"Oh!" He really needed to tell that to him? "I was, maybe it was the drinks that we had, they weren't strong, but I was with an empty stomach."

"You're sure? Yesterday during the race you were not feeling good either."

"That was the headache, you know I have bad ones."

He wasn't buying your excuses, but he let it go. For now.

"So what will you do today?"

"I was waiting to tell you this later, but… I got a new job! And I'll move to another country." Vettel looked at you, very surprised. "Uncle Seb, it's the one. I did it."

"I'm so proud of you, kid." He hugged you.

This moment made you tear up, finally getting your dream job as a manager in an entertainment company was a big accomplishment. You wished your dad was the one hugging you, saying that he believed in you and everything was happening because you were good. Before you could understand, the german was wiping the tears that were running down your face. He kissed your forehead, looking a bit too worried about you.

"Everything ok?"

"Yeah, it's just… I've always wanted this, so badly and I wanted to share it with my dad, but he's not here…"

"Olli, I'm sure he's proud of his little girl."

"Thanks, it means a lot to me, you know?"

"I know. Can I tell Hanna?"

"Of course you can!" You laughed between tears.

"Where are you moving?"

"Well… For now, they want me in Monaco, most of their clients live in the countries around it."

"That's good! Mick just moved there too, Daniel lives there as far as I remember, Charles too. They're good people and will make you feel at home."

"Thanks, Seb. I know they will." You smiled. "I just hope I didn't scare Mick after last night."

"I'm sure you didn't."

Both of you laughed together before you started to pack your things.

"I'm going back home tonight and booking a hotel for next week there, in the meantime, I'll find an apartment. They want me working as soon as I can."

"That's good! It means they really are invested in you."

"If you say anything else, I will cry again, uncle."

"Okay! Okay! I'll stop."

Vettel decided to get back home with you, because you lived in the same city, close neighborhoods. That night, after booking the hotel, you started to pack your things, the most important thing that you would need to have on the first week at the new apartment.

You were feeling your body being more tired than usual, but it was a long flight and an even longer weekend you had, so it was understandable your tiredness. The sickness was becoming an obstacle now and it made you madder than usual, resulting in a broken cup and a quick visit to the hospital to get some stitches in your palm; of course that wouldn't stop your moving and working.

…..........................................................

Monaco, there you were. New life, new things and a beautiful view from your apartment after a week in a hotel. It was smaller than your old one, but it was worth it. One bathroom, two small bedrooms - which one would be turned into an office - an open plan kitchen with living room and the balcony where you could see the ocean. The feeling of being independent was amazing, especially when you thought that everything was happening because of your dream job.

Immediately you texted Mick. This past week you became closer and your friendship was growing, both of you liked that, because a new city could be lonely for both foreigners.

the view is awesome, omg

*attached picture

mick: how is your view better than mine?

are you jealous?

mick: maybe…

really?

you should come here then lol

mick: i don't have anything to do rn

if you let me…

im knocking on your door in 5

if you bring good wine, im in

mick: then give me 10, ok?

sure, ill get the snacks ready

mick: fine see you xoxo

xoxo

You got all the snacks into different bowls, most of them healthy because you knew that Mick was usually on a diet to keep his weight, even though the smell and taste of them were feeling weird for you. In 10 minutes, he was knocking on the door, asking to get in; you thought it was very funny how loud and noisy he was being, almost saying no, but then you thought about the wine and let him in.

"Wow. It's cozy."

"I know, right? I'm loving it here."

"Do you want to drink now?"

"Oh, yes! The first two weeks have been good, but it's too much work! I need to chill."

When he gave you a glass, the smell bothered you, but you ignored, trying to give it a shot. On the first sip, it was bad, but you could handle it; however the second made you gag slightly. The nauseous feeling came back and you put down the wine, sitting back on the sofa.

"Maybe I won't drink today. My body is not feeling it."

"Really? That's sad, more wine to me, then!"

"I'm feeling like I'm about to throw up. Again."

"Are you ok? The last time we saw each other, you threw up in a corner of a sidewalk."

"I'm fine, it's probably stress."

"Are you sure?" He was very worried about your state of being.

"I said, I'm fine! Mick, you don't need to get worried, okay?" You snapped at him, soon regretting when you heard his voice.

"Oh. Okay. Sorry for that."

"It's okay… I was rude to you."

Later that night, you were laying with your head on his shoulder, watching some random TV show, when you needed to get up to go to the bathroom again. For the fifth time in 1 hour.

"I'm going to ask you again. Are you ok? It's not normal to get up around every 15 minutes to pee."

You sat down and started to question what he said. He was right. It was indeed weird.

"Now you've got me. But I don't know what it could be.”

"Let's think about the most common problems and get into a solution?"

"That would be fun."

And then, you two spent one hour trying to figure out what could be wrong in your body so you were acting like that. And nothing would match, from the simplest to the most obnoxious diagnosis. This was getting boring when he looked at his phone and back to you three times.

"There's one possibility that we didn't think of." He said.

"Which is…?"

"Pregnancy. You could be pregnant. "

"What?" You scoffed. "Impossible. I did a test and it came back negative!"

"When?"

"Around six to eight weeks ago?"

"That was a very long time. A lot of times it could be a false negative."

"Mick, you're scaring me." You felt your anxiety crumble up into a pile; your hands were wet with sweat, your breathing was shallow. He held your hands, looking at you.

"You should do a test, just to keep this option out of our mind. Okay?”

"I'm going to buy one. I'll be back in 5. Stay here please. I know it will be negative, but I need a friend around."

"You can count on me."

The nearest pharmacy was walking two blocks down, so in less than 5 minutes you were in the elevator, feeling your nerves running up your sleeve. It was an embarrassing situation asking for the test when your French wasn’t the best. The worry was growing, you couldn’t be pregnant, at least not now.You opened the door, looking at him and walking towards the bathroom.

The next 4 minutes have decided your whole life. From the peeing on the stick, to waiting for the results and the shock when it was positive. You washed your hands and face a couple of times, trying to put yourself back before looking at it again.

You were pregnant.

From there, everything was slow, like your mind was denying what just happened. Before you could understand, your sobbing was so loud that Mick ran to the bathroom door, knocking softly and calling for your name. It took a few minutes before you opened and walked to him, letting the blonde hug you while you cried into his chest for several minutes.

"I can't believe it. Why? Why now?" Your voice was muffled from your face still against his hoodie. "I was having the perfect life and then… Boom! One night of fun turned into this."

"Hey, I'm with you, Seb is with you. We're going to help."

"It's not just that. My career, I just started it. Maybe they won't fire me now, but in a few months? Hell yeah. And I’m in my twenties! I’m too young to have a kid, I don’t know what they will need."

"I'll be ready to sue them and to learn with you about babies, kids, teenagers."

Between your tears you chuckled a little.

"You don't need to do any of that."

"We're friends, right? So I'll do anything for my future godchild."

"You're too good for me." You sniffled and looked at him. "Thank you, for actually wanting to support me. I don't think the father will want anything with it."

"You don't need to thank me, but maybe you'll have to tell Seb about it."

"Yeah, but as soon as he knows, the first thing he'll do is fly over here to talk about the options. "

"Options?"

"I don't know if I want to keep this baby, Mick. Abortion could be an option… But here I can't do it, in Germany either and I don't have that much money left after I got this place."

"Well… We'll work it out with the decision you make. Because you know why?"

"Why?"

"Because friends support each other on anything."

[newsiesficchallenges]

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[fox-quills]

Do have any additional thoughts/ideas you’d be willing to share about Mobius?

OKAY FIRST AN APOLOGY BECAUSE THIS HAS BEEN SITTING SINCE???? NOVEMBER????? I'm so so sorry anon I'm on mobile 99.9% of the time and I don't know where that stupid app hides asks but I'm like the t-rex from Jurassic Park I can only perceive movement 😭

Second thank you so much for taking the time to ask about my mostest favorite topic in the whole wide world! Unfortunately there's not a lot I can say about the fic story-wise without spoilers, although I have SO MANY post-fic thoughts I'm dying to share. Unless someone really wants my thoughts on how gender works in this particular omegaverse variant?? I spent so much time thinking about something that's only tangentially mentioned lol BUT, I can talk a bit about the process of writing Mobius! Because it has been an experience. I started Mobius just over a year ago (april or so), but didn't really knuckle down and and get cracking until June/July. It started as aideku, because I thought it was an interesting ship idea, but the few fics I'd come across hadn't really scratched the itch. I didn't even plan on writing it, but my beta at the time kept nudging me, and before I knew it I had a wholeass plot. And then a first chapter, at which point I was done for. In the original iteration of the fic, Hizashi was only meant to be the supportive BFF, but something in the original idea run (I forget what exactly) made my beta go.... hey how come this isn't a poly ship? And the answer was, I'd never written one before and didn't think of it, BUT IT IS NOW. (If you've read any of my other fic you may have noticed that this has become A Problem, and also led to a stealth love of dekumic, because apparently I wish to languish in rarepair hell) The fic has gone through about four major version changes. Aideku -> aidekumic (which came with some major detail pivots even though the overall plot hadn't changed) -> suffering reduction (it was gonna be so bad) -> suffering reintroduction, but different. It's gonna punch everyone right in the heart but I don't think I'm sorry about it. I'm also going to have to sneak back to the first chapter and retcon a detail once I get the actual logistics sorted. OH WAIT I DO HAVE A DETAIL I CAN SHARE THAT'S NOT A SPOILER ANYMORE. Although maybe skip it if you haven't read the latest chapter. Hizashi was, originally, not going to get together with them this early (not until near the end of the fic, actually). They still had the bond, and Izuku did eventually figure it out, but for [redacted] he decided not to act on it. So they both thought they had a one-sided bond, and just... never did anything about it. For a long while. Which eventually culminated in Shouta being away, Hizashi having an untimely heat, and him and Izuku sleeping together because mash an unfulfilled bond together with overwrought pining in a hormone cocktail and you get bad choices. Which resulted in a lot of immediate guilt in the aftermath, even though Shouta had clocked them ages ago and wasn't all that upset about it. Then something immediately happened to make things worse, but I can't disclose that part because it's still going to happen. ;)

That continued to be the plan until chapter 11 happened, with all the snuggling and purring, and @fondofeveryprickle read it and was like, "...if you wanna keep this I think you need to reevaluate The Suffering because these things do not mesh." Which resulted in a lot of wailing and gnashing of teeth because that was a HUGE upset to the back half of the fic, and not something I was excited to re-jig. But she was right. And the new way was better. And then @scratchxiii said, "Hey what if we added Different Suffering?"

To which I replied, "Ouch my heart, that's absolutely devastating let's do it."

The blorbos uh, tend to get the worst of it when we're left unsupervised. BUT fresh suffering aside, the happy ending tag still applies, I'm just gonna make them earn it. :)

[losersroom]

could u directors cut the conversation of gay90s where it's like "I’ve been thinking about April. You know, before I left." to "“Absolutely,” says Brock, who has never understood anything less in his life"....whatever pieces of that that u want to!! i just love that conversation and would love to hear ur behind the scenes!!!!

GOD so like. alright that whole fic grew out of a conversation me and g were having Forever ago about this post, particularly the second point. and i was like, oh hey, that reminds me of this story i wanted to write about brock going to the gay 90's. and then i sat on it for like two more months.

so the important thing to take away from this is that it was only ever supposed to be that first part, where brock and jonas run into each other and then jonas sucks him off and they kind of subtly agree to not talk about it, the end. but like, i am at heart a gigantic sap and i wrote up to there and realized i couldn't leave it on the final line of. it can never happen again. because i too have been gay and closeted and sad about it, and i didnt want to give all that to brock.

(the other thing, which you didn't ask about but here it is, is like. a lot of these thoughts and attitudes i gave brock in that fic were just... how i felt, about myself and queerness and everything, at age 21/22, born and raised in the midwest. and like obviously i grew up and got over it and i'm extremely queer and trans and married now, and i want to think, hey, in this universe i'm constructing, it can get better for brock, too. we just have to get him there.)

anyway i had to then construct like. a narrative throughline from blowjobs to some sort of mutual understanding. ive said this before but i always think it's fun in these things to like, present brock's opinions and perspective and expectations and just pepper in around the edges hints of what jonas is actually thinking and feeling and doing, which. doesn't always line up. and then make people guess what's going on in his head, same way as brock is guessing. what i HOPE people took from that scene is that, you know, that whole summer brock spent thinking about jonas, jonas was thinking about him, too. trying to work out in his head if brock being there was a one-time thing or if there's an opportunity to have something more. and i DONT want to get into whether or not i think jonas actually has a history in this continuity with any of the people that brock imagines he might, because i think it's more fun to leave people room to draw their own conclusions, but he definitely has more experience with Being Queer In The NHL than brock does, and navigating that world, and being just. careful about it. exercising caution. he might want to mess around with brock again, but he has to approach it with discretion, you know, in case brock... Isn't into that. (but in my heart, because i'm me, i also like to think that jonas is interested because it's brock, not just because he's there and potentially the only one of their teammates available. u know. in my heart everybody's in love, im a romantic, i can't help it.)

so that scene was just intended as like. connective tissue. but it wound up being my favorite part of the entire fic lol. just the... palpable awkwardness of trying to figure out if a guy is interested in you. being on the same page without really being on the same page. and then jonas choosing to just hang out awkwardly and watch a terrible movie at 2 am with brock not just because he cant think of another way to extract himself from the situation now that its clear theyre not going to fuck, but because he sincerely likes spending time with this idiot, lmao. that's Real. that's a move i would have done, when i was dating.