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auteurdelabre · 2 months

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SO MUCH TO LOSE - CHAPTER 9 - dark!Joel x f!Reader

Rating: 18+

Words: 7.4k

Chapter Tags: sexual tension, mentions of suggested abuse, girl-bonding, Joel being Joel, reader being oblivious.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER HERE

A/N: Y’ALL really came through with the comments! It made me stay up far too late typin’ away. But I’m glad to deliver this to my sweet audience and I hope you continue to bless me with your thoughts, reblogs and funny tags. Also lemme know if you have money and wanna give me some because your girl is BROKE y'all. BROKE.

Wednesday - my bb, my light, my sweet please never stop commenting on A03 because I read those like others read stories. I laugh, I cry, I emote. Never stop.

Also, two people should NEVER ride a horse when one’s in a saddle. It’s horrible for the horse! But this is fiction so y’all gotta forgive me for it, all right?

Lastly - Chapter 10 is.... gonna be memorable. That's all I'm sayin'.

SO MUCH TO LOSE: CHAPTER 9

You toss in bed a short while later, your mind going a mile a minute. You can't get the memory of Joel's furious face out of your mind. You can’t get Ellie’s sad eyes and her tensed shoulders to leave you. You can’t stop imagining what happened the second you left their home.

Part of you wanted to run right back to that house on Rancher Street and to beg Joel’s forgiveness for intruding. It was never your information to gather, not your place to pry. It was information never given willingly and for that you understand his fury. You understand it better than most.

But the other part of you, perhaps the part that had brought you to tears as you left had been the sight of Ellie's horror at your question. Of would Joel hurt her? Because in Ellie’s eyes you saw her own lingering question reflected.

Who hurt you?

It's too complicated to get into, too personal and that's why you think you feel this overwhelming sense of guilt. Because if you'd come home to the space you shared with someone else and heard them divulging your biggest secrets, your deepest wounds, you can't say you would have acted any different.

In fact, you might have been worse.

You turn your head, noting that it's only now starting to grow dark. You hadn't even bothered with dinner. Just pulled on your sleeping clothes and robe and thrown yourself into bed. You wanted to forget the hours before, wanted sleep to claim you and help you erase the day.

But you can’t. You just lay there twisted in your sheets, feeling like a stranger in your own body. You consider trying a warm shower when you hear a sudden thudding on your front door. This isn't Ellie or Jennifer. This is someone else and you have a pretty good idea who.

You think that you should just stay in bed, try to ignore the insistent pounding. But you need to pay for your mistake. This is your penance. You move down the stairs and to the front door opening it slowly.

Joel is standing on your porch, his broad frame looming over your door. His hands are on either side of the frame, braced as if he has to physically hold himself back.

When you pull the door open he juts his chin forward aggressively. He hasn't even bothered putting a jacket on, despite the weather. He's wearing just his green flannel and a scowl that makes you take a physical step back.

"Joel-"

"You think I'd hurt Ellie?" Joel says, teeth clenched. "Hurt my own fuckin' kid?"

You glance quickly over his shoulder noting that the street is deserted. Your street is one of the newer ones, less populated. It makes you nervous to see him looking so furious with no witnesses. But you answer him anyway.

"I don't know you at all," you tell him with a wince. "For all I knew you could have and I felt responsible."

His jaw is clenched tightly, ticking as he glares at you. You can see the fury building there in his frame and it makes you tremble. But you swallow, raising your spine and fixing him with what you hope is confidence.

"You yanked me around on patrols before," you remind him, swallowing your fear the best you can. "You're known for being ruthless with raiders. Most everyone is terrified of you. Is it really that much of a stretch?"

For the first time this evening you think that what you're saying registers with Joel because he blinks and some of that inky black in his gaze grows a soft brown.

"I've never hit you. Never come close." His voice is soft, almost admonished.

"No," you concede, "but you haven't exactly been gentle either."

Joel takes in the way you're cowering, the way you flinch when he shifts. He sobers, lowering his hands from your doorframe, pushing himself back from you.

"I'd never hurt a kid," he murmurs. “I’d never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it.”

He takes a moment to look at you, really look at you. You wonder if he sees the blotchy pink of your tear-stained face or the dark circles under your eyes from barely sleeping this week.

Joel's eyes narrow and without stepping closer to you it feels like he gets nearer when he speaks low and even.

"Your dad hurt you or somethin'?"

You're momentarily thrown by this question from Joel. He's never really asked you anything this personal before. You toy with the idea of closing the door on his face because he doesn’t deserve to know you this way. But you think of how vulnerable he must feel with you having all this information about his past, about his Sarah, and you answer.

"No," you tell him honestly. “My dad was amazing.”

"Your mom then?"

"No."

You cross your arms over your chest, indicating that the conversation is now at an end. You've shared as much as you are willing to at this point in time.

Joel looks equally stoic despite the nature of his questioning. His eyes drift over your body for the first time since he arrived at your doorstep, fixing on your sleep clothes and open robe before shooting back to your gaze. You pull your robe around your body, shivering at the cold draft coming in from the outside. Joel clears his throat.

"Ellie never should have told you all that about me," he says. "Wasn't her information to share."

"It was my fault. I never should have pressed her for details," you admit, talking to his shoulder. "It wasn't my place."

Joel exhales through his nose by way of reply. The two of you stand in quiet thought before you feel compelled to ask.

"Did Ellie get in a lot of trouble?"

When he doesn't answer you finally move your eyes from his shoulder to his face, surprised to see he's staring at you. He's not going to answer you, you realize. You barely know him and it's between him and his daughter.

You worry that you've messed everything up with Ellie. You feel like it's your fault that the fight happened at all. You think of how pleasant the afternoon had been with flower making and hair brushing. You hate to think of that going away. You swallow, gathering your nerves.

"Am I still allowed to teach her to bake?"

After a moment Joel sucks his teeth and nods shallowly.

You shift where you stand, one hand still on the doorknob. It's warm under your palm. If Joel was anyone else you'd invite him in for a hot drink given the weather. But as it's him you simply stand awkwardly across from him.

Joel peers into your face, gaze darting from each of your eyes to the next and back again. There's something about his stare that feels warm and heavy, something endless.

"Get some sleep."

He says it softly, a husky command with none of its usual bite. Then he's gone, giving you one last look before he's taking off down the stairs of your porch. You watch his tall frame head down your street, scissoring through the night air until he's nothing but mist.

And strangely the second you close the door you feel your feet taking you to your bed. You hear his voice quietly rumbling in your mind as you crawl under the covers.

Get some sleep.

Permission. A command. A hushed order that gives you the freedom to just sink into the warmth of your bed, to close your eyes and feel your breath even out.

And in seconds you're fast asleep.

///

Jennifer greets you when you open your door to leave for patrols the next day, crowding your doorframe.

"I thought we could walk to patrols together."

"Okay." You pull your jacket around you, bracing yourself.

You've known popular girls like Jennifer. The kind that roll their eyes and call you sensitive if you don't like how they treat you. You assume that this is what awaits you now.

"I'm so sorry for how I acted at the Bison."

You can’t say you were expecting that.

"I was trying to impress Joel," she continues. “Make it seem like we were all in on the joke together.”

When you see her standing there with her gloved hands clasped, looking apologetic you feel your animosity dropping from you like an unnecessary jacket.

"And I just... I never should have put you on the spot,” she continues. “I was just trying to go along with things, but that's not how friends act. My mama raised me better than that."

You know that what she's saying is important, but all you can focus on is that she just confirmed you two are friends. You have a real friend.

"S'okay," you offer quietly.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Did you get my cookies?"

"Yep, they were good."

You don't make it a habit to lie to friends but she looks so proud of herself that you can't help it. She beams, clearly proud of herself. She doesn’t need to know that they’re at the bottom of your waste bin.

"I'm so glad you liked them."

You want to say something kind to Jennifer, something that lets her know that you’ve forgiven her. Maybe its guilt from the fact that the cookies were barely touched. Whatever it is you scan her body, landing on her beautifully tailored jacket.

“I like your jacket,” you tell her, observing the dark green and black of the pattern and hood. “It’s really pretty.”

“Thanks, I made it myself,” she tells you proudly. “Barely any time at all.”

“Tell me you didn’t just make it just for this patrol,” you say fixing her with a look. Jennifer goes pink and starts giggling. “Jennifer!”

"Oh hush,” she says elbowing your side gently.

You can’t help but laugh at your friend as the two of you head off to patrols, chatting pleasantly as you make your way down the path to town. Jennifer is animated as always, her voice lilting and cheerful.

“Luke was really disappointed when you took off," she mentions with a sly smile and side eye. "I just know he's excited about today."

You flush, eyes on the ground, not saying anything. The truth is you're very excited to see Luke today. You want to learn more about him, see his likes and dislikes.

"Joel left soon after you did," Jennifer tells you with a frown after a few moments. "But I mean he came and had a drink with us so that has to count for something."

"Totally."

You've reached the fence and see three of the horses lined up, tied and waiting. Luke is patting Glimmer but he waves to you both as you approach. Your stomach flips pleasantly at the sight of his light hair falling into his eyes.

Chestnut whinnies gently as you approach, his long neck arching towards you. You smile as he ambles over to greet you the best he can.

"Hi boy," you whisper, gently patting down his long muzzle. "You having a good day? Huh?"

"Hiya Glimmer," Jennifer coos. You think that this must be her usual ride on her patrols.

"Morning Luke," you offer, trying to appear nonchalant.

"Mornin'." Luke’s smile is shy but earnest. "We missed ya this week."

"Yeah?"

He nods and you feel your face grow hot because you are sure Jennifer is staring at you both with a smirk. "Yeah, missed shootin’ with ya."

You busy yourself with running your hand over chestnuts flank, all the while trying not to read into things. Maybe Luke just likes having a fellow peer there?

Or maybe he likes me.

You have to admit to yourself that you have a crush even if crushes feel so adolescent in your mind after everything that happened to the world. But there’s something that makes you want to laugh at the way some things never change. Humans will continue to lust, even after the earth is swallowed by disease.

"Looks like a simple enough job," Jennifer observes looking at the few pieces of lumber strapped to the horses. Enough that it's good for building but not too heavy for them to carry. You go to reply when you hear a booming voice sounding out behind you.

"S'a fucking joke. Gettin' them all the way over here just to be one short."

Joel is arguing with Hank, one of the crew. Hank is an older with an under bite and bushy eyebrows. He fixes Joel with a formidable stare. He’s one of the few in Jackson City not intimidated by the elder Miller.

"I don't know what to tell ya Joel," Hank shrugs. "It's all we got."

"What's going on?" Jennifer asks, swanning over to the men. She stands close to Joel, her shoulder brushing against his. You notice as his dark eyes sweep over her face as he notices her.

"Only three horses available today," Hank explains to her. "Others were taken out."

"Why?"

"Heard about an intercepted shipment of medicine nearby. Sent a bunch of folks after it. Anyway, one of you'll have to double up."

Joel makes a huffing noise before shouldering past Hank and hauling himself up onto Midnight. He's made it very clear he won't be riding with anyone. That leaves you, Jennifer and Luke. In habit you go to grab Chestnut’s bridle. Jennifer is determined not to go down without a fight.

"I'm small," Jennifer says in a breathy voice you don't really recognize as hers. "I'll double."

She looks directly at Joel who is going to great lengths to look anywhere else. If it weren’t so awkward you might have laughed, but instead you try to hide your smile behind your glove.

Oblivious to the dynamic, Luke pats the side of his horse.

"You can ride on the back of mine if you want Jenny," Luke offers with a friendly tip of his head.

Your smile immediately dies. Why didn’t you volunteer? Jennifer pauses, waiting for Joel to inject.

Get the fucking hint, Joel.

He doesn’t. He just shifts the two guns he’s carrying on his back, clearing his throat.

You see how crestfallen Jennifer looks, but it’s for only a moment before she shines a bright smile Luke's way as she hauls herself up behind him, lacing her hands around his middle.

"Thanks, Luke."

With that settled you yourself mount Chestnut, stroking his mane gently. Hank comes over to hand you a backpack. It’s heavy and you make a soft huffing noise when you hoist it onto your shoulders.

“Nails and hammers,” Hank explains. “You got it?”

“Yep,” you nod, trying to look in command of yourself with Luke’s eyes on you. “No problem.”

You feel the coarse hair of Chestnut under your gloved fingertips and squeeze your thighs to prompt him forward. You follow after Joel in habit with Glimmer carrying Luke and Jennifer close behind. The ride to Teton is quiet, but not in a tense way, more distracted.

The backpack as it stands is a problem though because you’re wincing with every jostling step Chestnut takes. The bag is impossibly heavy and it digs into your shoulders like a too-tight bra.

You hear Luke and Jennifer quietly talking with one another on Glimmer. There are quiet giggles and you hear Luke chuckle softly. You feel irritated at Joel not taking Jennifer on his horse with him. Of course he wouldn't - Joel gets his way every time. So you've lost your chance to bond with Luke.

You could be on the back of Glimmer with him. Your arms could be around Luke's waist right now, your thighs bracketing his. You could be feeling the warmth of his body seeping into your front.

But you're not.

You're stuck in the middle listening to Luke's gentle chuckle behind you and watching Joel's broad frame in front of you. As you stare at Joel with the guns on his back your mind drifts to last night.

Have you and Joel moved past your mutual disdain for one another? You’re not quite sure. Right now you’re irritated with him, but there’s less bite to it today. You think maybe you’re both at a polite acceptance of one another. Joel looks back every now and again, his eyes sailing to you and the group behind you. You roll your shoulders, gritting your teeth when the bag digs into the flesh there.

“’Bout halfway there,” he tells the group even though you’re well aware.

Joel is a natural leader checking in on his troops. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was in the forces before all of this. You know that he worked in construction and that he must have been around horses considering he’s such a capable rider. But that’s it.

Perhaps he and Sarah rode horses together. This thought comes to you despite knowing nothing about the girl. Nevertheless you wonder what she looked like. Was she dour and broad like Joel? You imagine her as bubbly and quick with his dark hair.

You watch as Joel slows Midnight and Chestnut quickly overtakes him, their hooves trotting along the earth until the two of you ride side by side. You’re confused and you feel Joel’s eyes on your profile and after a moment you turn to see him staring at the bag and then back to your face.

“Gimme the bag,” he orders gently.

“I’m fine,” you lie. You wonder if he can see the strain in your neck as you say this. He rolls his eyes, huffing out his nostrils.

“You need to be carrying a weapon,” Joel informs you. “Won’t do much damage to a Raider with a heavy backpack.”

He’s right. He’s not doing it to be nice; he’s doing it to be efficient. How Joel of him.

You want to fight him on it but the thought of having the heavy thing off your shoulders is too appealing. You relent as the horses come to stop beside one another. You tug off your bag, handing it to Joel who straps one of the guns to the side of it and slings it over his muscled shoulders. The bag doesn’t even look oversized on him and he carries it with no strain whatsoever.

He hands you off the large shotgun and you throw it over your shoulder, thankful for the padding in the leather sling. Without another word Joel makes a clicking noise with his tongue against his teeth and he and Midnight quickly head up the group once more.

When you get to Teton Village and the four of you do the usual perimeter check you’re feeling bolder and a little bit restless. You feel like you want to impress Luke but can’t think of any meaningful way to do so. He’ll be upstairs hammering and nailing while you stand watch at the window like a senior citizen waiting for the postman. It’s almost embarrassing that you were brought along at all.

When you approach the outpost though you have an idea on how to appear more capable. You urge Chestnut on ahead of Joel and tie the sweet creature quickly to the tree before jogging up the large old library steps.

“I’ve got the lock,” you call over your shoulder casually. Joel is already off his horse and striding towards you with several pieces of lumber slung over his shoulder; Luke is helping Jennifer off of Glimmer. You turn back, fiddling with the code confidently.

It doesn’t work.

“Fuck.”

You try it again, the same one you were taught and then you tug. It’s still not working.

“C’mon,” you whisper angrily to yourself, “c’mon you piece of shit.”

Again the silver tabs are moved to the correct code and again you jerk it only to find it sticking fast. Is it the encroaching cool weather? Your confidence is hanging by a thread when a large ungloved hand comes out of nowhere, coming to gently bat your fingers away.

“Code changed last week,” Joel says lowly behind you.

You feel the warmth of his taller body behind you, his words stirring the hair at the back of your head. You say nothing as you watch his fingers fiddle with the new numbers, sliding them into place. You want to memorize them for next time. His arm rests beside your shoulder as he works his thick thumbs slide the silver tabs. Finally it unlocks and Joel removes the lock, placing it in his pocket.

“Sorry you couldn’t impress your little boyfriend.”

You feel your cheeks burn with humiliation despite the fact that only he and you could hear the murmured remark. He moves past you, Luke and Jennifer carry the remaining lumber. The four of you make your way into the house and wordlessly Joel heads upstairs to begin.

“That was so sweet of Joel to take the bag,” Jennifer whispers to you with hearts in her eyes. “Chivalrous.”

You don’t reply. Why shatter her illusion of who she thinks Joel is? Maybe with her affection and softness he could become that. Maybe with the right woman Joel Miller is chivalrous and romantic.

Maybe it’s just with you that he’s an antagonistic asshole.

The three of them pad up the stairs with the supplies as you stand by the door. You know you're not much use upstairs so you busy yourself writing in the log notes about the repairs. You hear the banging and the conversations upstairs as you move from the small room towards the window of the fireplace room; your eyes surveying the grey of old snow.

You yawn after a short while, bored. There’s nothing out there. There never is in town. That’s why you like Teton village so much. It’s quiet and sleepy and there’s no real danger. Perhaps it’s the large buildings or the lack of footprints. Whatever it is, you find yourself relaxing.

Joel and Jennifer jog down the stairs with Joel not passing you a glance. Jennifer gives you a thumbs up and mouths “getting more wood”. You hear the sound of Luke hammering upstairs and take a moment to consider your next moves.

This may be your only chance.

You scurry up the steps towards the far room, following the sound of Luke’s hammering. You stop when you see him, mid hammer. His back muscles ripple under his t-shirt, a line of sweat down the middle. It’s warm in this room, and judging by the repairs done they have been working quickly and efficiently.

“Hey,” you offer as you approach him, heartened when he turns and flashes you a friendly smile, wiping the sweat from his brow with the bottom of his t-shirt. You turn away at the sliver of taut abdomen that shows itself when he does. Your whole body is going tingly.

“Hey, you come to help us?”

“Oh I would just slow you down,” you say with a shy laugh, your eyes landing anywhere but his handsome face. “Every time I try to hammer the nail goes crooked.”

“You just haven’t been taught correctly then,” Luke ventures, “come here and I’ll give you a lesson.”

You try to keep yourself from jogging over, attempting to appear casual. He holds his hammer out to you as you approach.

"Here.”

You take it from him, facing the sill of the window that he’s been working on. You nearly jolt when you feel his hands land on your shoulders. He notices your flinch, his hands flying off of you at the first contact.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry just distracted,” you insist, feeling your cheeks heat. “Keep going. I’m fine.”

Luke’s hands go to your wrists now, placing the nail in your left fingers and positioning it on the sill.

“You just need to start with it straight. Lotta people angle it without thinking and…”

You know that Luke’s talking more but you’re having trouble focusing because you feel him pressing up behind you, his hand sliding over yours and helping you to hold the nail in place.

“A lot of people make the mistake of hitting the nail shallowly a bunch of times instead of once or twice with harsh blows,” he explains. You feel a warmth go through your body as Luke's curls over yours. He’s so tall, so gentle, so earnest. You feel his voice rumbling through his chest into your back.

He places the hammer in your right hand before he covers your hand with his effectively holding each of your hands like you're a puppet. He positions the nail in the wood once more, bringing your hand and the hammer back. You’re completely boneless, letting yourself melt into his arms.

"So if you hold it-"

Whatever thought Luke had dies at the sound of Joel's rasping voice behind you.

"What're you doin'?"

You and Luke glance over your shoulders to see Joel scowling. He's got a stack of the remaining lumber over his shoulder. Jennifer is beside him, looking between Luke and Joel in confusion, a box of nails in her grip.

Luke still has his arms around yours, guiding you. Both sets of arms are raised midway. It looks like you’re in some strange dance routine involving hammers and nails. Joel drops the lumber to the floor with a thud, his gaze icily on Luke.

"I was just teaching her how to put up the frame," Luke explains with a soft tone. You recognize that he's a gentle man, not one for confrontation. Joel intimidates him; he likely has since he met him. For whatever reason Joel is especially cold to Luke.

"This ain't a teachin' moment," Joel all but growls, his larger frame barreling towards the two of you. "We're here to do a job and get it done fast so we don’t draw attention."

You feel Luke shrinking back, arms lowering, but his frame still rests behind you as if he's worried about leaving you entirely.

"I wanted to learn how to do the repairs," you explain trying to be diplomatic.

"S'not why you were brought," Joel bites back.

He shocks you when he reaches out to take your wrist, tugging you away from Luke. You stagger towards Joel, eyes wide almost barreling into his chest. He holds you tightly, looking down into your face.

"You're here to keep watch while we do this. That’s your job."

His voice is harsh but his eyes are gentle. It's a confusing dichotomy that has you careening from one emotion to the next. You settle on anger when you feel Jennifer and Luke watching you. Your cheeks burn with humiliation at being talked to like this in front of them and you shoot a glare at Joel before you wrench your wrist his grip.

“Let’s break for lunch,” Jennifer suggests, noting the tension.

“Good idea,” Luke says with a smile.

Everyone waits for Joel’s eventual nod before the four of you head downstairs to the log room.

There are thankfully enough chairs because you can’t imagine the awkwardness of standing around eating after everything that happened. Right now you want to sink into your chair and disappear for a few hours.

What the fuck is Joel’s problem?

Jennifer thankfully starts chatting to fill the silence and pulls out the meals from her bag. Two sandwiches each, a thermos of coffee and what appears to be fresh brownies along with the usual water and apples.

Joel goes off for a moment, muttering about feeding the horses. The three of you take a seat around the table, focused on the sweet-smelling brownies.

“Those look so good,” Luke says when Jennifer pulls them out. “I love baked goods.”

“You should try her stuff,” Jennifer says motioning to you with a wink. “Everyone in town says how good her baking is.”

You could kiss Jennifer for the way she’s trying to make you look good in front of Luke. You make a mental note to do the same for her and Joel. Jennifer has many good redeeming qualities and Joel just simply doesn’t see them.

“S’not that good,” you say with a shy little giggle as you bite into your sandwich.

“It is so!” Jennifer insists, unwrapping her own.

“Guess I’ll have to see for myself,” Luke says grinning and taking a sip of his coffee. You don’t say anything but you shift slightly when Joel comes to take the empty seat next to you. He reaches across you to grab one of the sandwiches, peeling back the waxy cloth that holds it.

The room goes quiet again, a side effect of Joel-Miller-iti; because whenever he enters a room it goes deadly quiet. You wonder if he was like this before – was he always so gruff? So grumpy? How could Tommy be so opposite to him?

You wish it was Tommy with the rest of you today. Tommy with his easy laugh and warm countenance. You expect the rest of lunch to go in silence when all of a sudden it’s Joel who breaks it.

"You're good at window repair, Jenny. You must’ve done a lot.”

Jennifer flushes prettily and thanks him in a voice that feels a lot more breathy than necessary.

For some reason this innocuous comment from Joel has your fingers curling into the wood table. Your leg starts to twitch as you rock your leg up and down restlessly on the ball of your foot.

You spent weeks trying to earn Joel’s praise as a patrol partner. You were dutiful and listened and tried your best and he gave you nothing back unless his cock was in your mouth. Jennifer has been working for thirty minutes and he gives her his praise so freely?

If he wasn't sitting beside you, you would be fixing him with your most glowering stare. You wish you weren’t so shy, so quiet. You’d give him a piece of your mind next week on patrols if you had the guts.

“I grew up doing repairs on our house with my brothers,” Jennifer answers and you know she’s beside herself with all this attention from Joel. He’s got his eyes fixed on her and his normally scowling face is brighter, his mouth in a polite smile.

“You had good teachers.”

“I taught them, actually,” she smiles brightly.

“Impressive.”

You continue to bop your leg, the feeling distracting you from your frustration. You hasten a glance at Luke who hasn’t so much as glanced up from his lunch since the meal started. He’s shy like you, quiet and introspective especially when Joel is around. You think that’s why you enjoy his company so much. You feel like you want him to feel included.

“You did construction too, right Luke?”

“Yep,” he nods, swallowing before taking one of the brownies and breaking it apart in his hands. “Cabinetry especially.

“Cool,” you offer awkwardly. You wish you knew more about the topic but your interest and acumen in that field is limited. Your knee continues to bop anxiously as you try to think of ways to get the conversation to continue.

“I was just learning flooring and trim carpentry when the outbreak started,” he continues as you nod along as if it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Oh, wow.”

Jennifer keeps sneaking looks across the table at Joel and if your hunch is correct he’s probably doing the same to her. Despite your previous annoyance with him the thought warms you, that perhaps there is a mutual attraction for your friend and Joel. You wonder if you should warn her about Joel’s temper but decide that Joel may not show that side of himself to her if he can help it.

After what you’ve learned about Joel and Sarah, there is a softness inside you that maybe thinks Jennifer could be good for Joel. You resolve to do whatever you can to make it work for them. Joel isn’t your friend, but Jennifer is. And if she wants Joel you’ll do all you can to make it happen.

You almost yelp when Joel's hand grips your knee, holding your restless leg in place. He leans towards you, voice dropping a register and sliding into a soft rasp.

"Stop shakin' your damn leg. You’re knockin’ over the coffees."

You’re doing no such thing, but part of you thinks he misses ordering you around. He must like the sense of control it gives him. He misses being a big shot and you’re the closest thing he has to a professional underling. All your kind sentiments about him go flying out the window. You were naïve to think there could be a possible friendship there. Hell, not even a friendship – just a respectful mutual tolerance.

You feel an embarrassed flush cross your features, pulling back from Joel’s touch. His fingers slowly unlatch from your knee and his palm lingers a moment before being removed entirely.

“You do a lot of repairs before all this?” Jennifer asks Joel. You surprise yourself by listening, intrigued for more information on pre-outbreak Joel.

“Yep.”

He takes a long swig of his coffee before wiping at his mouth and speaking before Jennifer has the chance to ask more follow up personal questions.

“Alright, let’s finish it up. I’ll see you two up there.”

He doesn’t spare anyone a glance before he’s on his feet, heading up the stairs. Luke joins him moments later, leaving you and Jennifer sitting across from one another.

When she’s certain the men are upstairs she looks beside herself with delight and leans forward conspiratorially.

“Do you think Joel was flirting?” she whispers, her light eyes dancing. “I mean, Luke is way better at repairs but he didn’t say anything nice to him.”

“Definitely,” you reason, looking thoughtful. “He doesn’t really talk much normally, so I think that’s a good sign.”

“I’m gonna ride back with him,” Jennifer says hiding a giggle behind her hand.

“Go for it,” you say, unable to stop from smiling. You can’t help but enjoy her excitement.

“I wonder what he kisses like,” she muses, her eyes dreamy. You shrug your shoulders and she fixes you with that same sisterly look. “When’s the last time you had a really good make out?”

“Uh…” you trail off, your cheeks heating. “We can talk about it later. He’ll be pissed off if you don’t get up there soon. Don’t wanna blow your chances now.”

Jennifer gives you a grateful squeeze on the shoulder as she passes, calling up to Joel and Luke that she’s just grabbing some extra nails. You don’t hear their reply because you’ve dragged yourself to the window, your eyes scanning.

You hear them nailing upstairs, the muffled sound of their talking. As always you're on the edge, forever on the outside. You chew at the inside of your cheek in irritation, your eyes scanning the outside.

It's not long after that the three come back downstairs dressed for travel. Jennifer is pulling on her gloves and chatting with Luke about the rumors of heavy snow and Joel is carrying his bag with the tools over one shoulder. He fixes you with an expectant stare, brows raised.

"See anythin’?"

"Nope. Would've said something if I did."

Joel stares at you, unblinking and you're confused when you see a small curl of his lip in amusement.

"S'go."

The four of you trudge towards the waiting horses. Chestnut looks excited to see you and you grin as you approach. You press your forehead to his cheek, stroking down his flank as the rest of the group begins to pick a horse.

"I can ride with someone again," Jennifer offers and you watch with a touch of amusement as she subtly steps towards Joel who has just climbed atop Midnight.

"Nah, let's switch it up," Joel says gruffly. "That way s’fair for everyone."

Luke looks your way and you hold in a nervous grin. He’s going to make the same offer to you that he did to Jennifer because he’s a gentleman that way.

The thought has your stomach fluttering excitedly. You think of how your arms will wrap around his middle, how you’ll find an excuse to press your cheek to his shoulder blade. How your thighs will-

"Get on."

Your brows knit together in confusion as you gaze up to your right to see Joel on his horse, holding out a gloved hand in front of your face. His curls fall into his forehead as he tilts towards you, mouth in a firm line.

What the fuck is he doing? Why is he trying to fuck this up for you?

“S’go,” Joel tells you, shaking an impatient outstretched hand from atop of his horse. He looks like he’s irritated out of his mind as you make your decision.

"Oh, uh," you glance at the disappointment in Luke's face before turning back to Joel, trying to hide your irritation.

It makes sense after all; Luke already had to ride with Jennifer. But a part of you had been hoping to spend a bit of time with him on the horse. It's been a long while since a man intrigued you like Luke.

"We don't have all day," Joel snipes at your hesitation. "Let's go."

Jennifer strides forward, taking Chestnut’s bridle from you. You hand it over before looking back up at Joel who waits with one hand on his saddle horn, the other still at your eye level.

You clench your jaw and take his hand, hooking your foot into the footing of Midnight’s saddle and feeling the muscle of Joel’s arm as you grip his bicep and he pulls you astride the horses back behind him.

He shifts, giving you room to slide behind the saddle. You do so, holding in a sigh as you position yourself atop the strong animal. You feel Midnight's ribs under your legs, wider than Chestnut's. He's a pitch black mare with a coat that currently glistens. He's always been a rather imposing horse, hesitant around new people. Riding him is like being in a room alone with Joel – intimidating.

"Hold on," Joel instructs before clicking his tongue, encouraging Midnight to start walking. The horse jerks to a start, causing you to dig your legs into Midnight’s side. You’re lucky the horse doesn’t kick you off for it.

You look over your shoulder to see Jennifer on Chestnut a few paces back. You give her a look that shows how displeased you are to be with Joel, replete with an eye roll. She returns it with a weak smile before her focus is back on the trail. Luke is looking off into the surrounding area, his eyes scanning for threats as he sits straight-backed on Glimmer.

You turn back to face ahead of you, displeased.

At first you barely touch Joel, hands resting on your thighs as the four of you bob along the trail. No one is talking now. The air is filled with an unexpected tension that you can’t for the life of you understand.

Your front is pressed against Joel's back, squeezing gently to make sure you don't slide off. Midnight makes a jostling step off the path before righting himself. It sends you slipping back, your thighs digging into the horse’s side and your hands going to grab Joel lightly by his jacket.

"Unless you wanna fall off I suggest you hold tighter n'that." Joel bites off.

You know he’s correct. Sitting this awkwardly is only a burden on Midnight. Your arms snake around Joel’s waist and hold there below his sternum. His chest is broad, his arms muscled, his thighs strong. Everything about him is masculine and tough. All but the soft look of his dark brown curls threaded with grey which curl under his ears just slightly.

Despite everything you've experienced with Joel, actually physically touching him is surreal. You know the feel of his cock in your palm and on your tongue, the taste of his come. But now you can explore the rest of his body first with your eyes and then your hands.

Up this close to Joel you see the freckles on his golden skin and the way he holds himself stiffly straight in front of you. He’s so broad, his entire disposition that of protector. You can understand why Ellie feels safe with him.

You marvel at the smooth sensation of his jacket under your fingertips, the warmth of his body. This close to Joel you inhale the scent of leather and homemade lavender soap from Hannah's. You could almost laugh that you both use the same scent mostly because Joel Miller smelling like flowers is an amusing thought.

You pass through a different path on your way back as you always do and are irritated with the sight of the overturned trees. The roots are ugly, twisted things that poke out from the light dusting of snow.

“Shit,” Joel mutters to himself.

Midnight rears back sharply and in a panic your arms wrap more tightly around Joel’s waist, suddenly anxious. You're surprised when Joel's left hand goes to cover your grip knotted against his middle, holding you in place.

Joel grunts out a grumbled whoa boy before tugging Midnight’s reigns with his right hand to get him to obey. His hand is big, warming you despite the gloves you both wear.

"Careful," Joel calls over his shoulder to Jennifer and Luke. "Some big roots here."

The two of them call out that they've heard him. You twist to look over your shoulder and watch them navigate Chestnut and Glimmer over the uprooted tree. Luckily it doesn’t take long before the four of you are back on the path heading home with no more obstacles in the foreseeable future.

You glance behind you to see Jennifer looking miserable on Glimmer. She looks so disappointed and you want to slap Joel upside the head for missing how obviously into him she is. You think of earlier, when Joel observed her skills and an idea comes to you.

“Hey Jennifer?”

“Yeah?”

“I really like your jacket,” you fumble for a way to make this sound natural.

Jennifer shoots you a confused look, curious as to where you’re going with this. “Uh, thanks.”

“Did you get it from town?”

“I made it,” she tells you, the silent you already know that, reflected in her gaze.

“Wow, you’re so gifted. You made those amazing curtains in your place too, right?”

“I did.”

“You’re so good at making stuff,” you gush. “Especially clothes. You make men's clothes too, right Jennifer? Like jackets?"

"Uh yeah," she says slowly before her confusion fades, realizing what you're getting at. She smiles cheekily at you. "Yeah, I can make jackets, jeans, t-shirts, all that stuff."

“You’re so talented at it,” you gush. Luke is looking over your way and you feel the need to really drive it home. “I mean, with the holidays coming up I might just want to get a dress from you.”

You have never worn a dress in your life. Not unless your mother forced you into them as a child. But you need to sell this idea that Jennifer is a domestic goddess. You’ll leave out the part about her baking.

“I could make us matching ones,” she says with a wink. You hold in a giggle at the thought.

“I’d like to see that,” Luke offers shyly from behind Jennifer who shoots a delighted look in your direction complete with dramatically mouthed ‘he likes you!’. You flush at the attention, your lips pursing into a pleased grin.

You feel Joel's trunk stiffen in your arms and his hand drops from over yours. He replaces it on the reigns.

"Keep it down," Joel hisses over his shoulder at you and the others. "Unless you were hopin’ to guide Raiders our way?"

The two of them go quiet and you cringe internally. You don't know why but you suppose it's because Joel is your patrol partner. A reflection on you in some ways and he's coming off like a major asshole right now. Your arms loosen around his middle finding that the horse is now on smoother terrain.

You glance over at Jennifer about to give her a sympathetic look but she shoots you an exaggerated eyebrow waggle and mouths the words "still sexy" with a head tilt at Joel. You barely suppress a surprised giggle, irritating Joel further.

"What's so fuckin’ funny?"

"Nothing."

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

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nolita-fairytale · 1 year

Text

make my heart surrender | carmy berzatto x fem!reader | chapter four: friday

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

warnings: lots of swearing, angst, use of she/her pronouns, friends to lovers, smutty smut-smut, this is an 18+ chapter so minors dni, no use of y/n, second person pov

word count: 6.7k

summary: buckle up people, because this is a long one! tonight is the night: the night you and marcus' dessert menu goes live, the night you meet natalie berzatto, and the night that truths are revealed.

a/n: is it hot in here or is it just me? who's ready for some smut? this will be the last chapter i post till sunday/monday, so we can all sit with this. hear me out: it's not that i think carmy is really good at sex. but there's so much tension between these two, i think reader is good at sex, and there's something to be said for being so turned on by the other person that it just hits different.

and here is that song -- the jazz standard turned acoustic cover.

read: part three | masterlist

Friday

“Just remember that we don’t have to reinvent the wheel here. You just have to deliver a really damn good dessert time after time,” you instruct, setting Marcus up, pre-dinner shift.

“I think we should focus on the burnt basque cheesecake in lieu of the classic. You already have a heavier lift on the bake for the chocolate cake. That way, whatever happens with the mixer, or the ovens… this version of cheesecake is pretty forgiving. And you don’t have to fuck around with a water bath just yet.”

“The tiramisu is perfect because it’s a no-bake option, and you can mix it up with different kinds of flavors – call it a special.”

“Like what we’re doing Sunday?” Marcus suggests, in reference to the strawberry, lemon, and mascarpone version you be doing at the end of the week.

“Exactly,” you reply.

“Hell yeah.”

“It all fits into the menu so nicely too: elevated classics.”

“A play on tradition.”

“Exactly."

“Ah, I see you, chef,” Marcus nods along, excited about tonight’s R&D night.

The game plan is to serve smaller portions of each dessert for the price of one, then get feedback by the end of the weekend.

“Hey, family’s up in a minute. You guys ready to roll tonight?” Carmy asks, stopping by you and Marcus’ little pastry corner.

“Yes, chef,” you both answer, in staggered timing.

“She got me workin’ on a strawberry compote. Here, try it, chef,” Marcus encourages, grabbing a clean spoon and scooping out a spoonful from the deli container it’s been stored in. Carmy takes it, putting the spoon in his mouth and he tries the compote.

“That’s gonna be really good with the tang and slightly bitter outside of the burnt cheesecake. Good work, chef,” he congratulates, inspiring a grin across Marcus face.

“I’m learning so much from you. Seriously. Thank you, chef,” he says, turning to you.

“Hey, you’re the one that made the compote,” you reply, redirecting the praise back to him. “Just sayin’.”

“Family’s up!” Sydney calls out to the whole kitchen.

You lock eyes with Carmy, and he nods towards the front of house as if to say, ‘follow me.’ You and Marcus file in through the limited space that leads from the kitchen to the front counter, then finally, into the dining area of the restaurant. Carmy had told you all about the hellish remodel of this place – that the two tops, booths, and bar remodel had taken for-fuckin-ever. That it looked like nothing more than a diner with a few arcade games before the reopen.

“Hey, thanks for jumping in so that Angel could cover me the other night,” Ebrahim says to you, as you find a seat next to Carmy, and across from Marcus.

“Oh, it’s no problem. You feelin’ better?” you ask back.

“Very much so. A little rest and a little maraq digaag and I’m good as new,” he answers.

“What’s good, Jeff? Surprised you’ve stuck around this long. Glad we haven’t scared you away yet,” Tina greets.

Carmy’s shocked, considering Tina rarely warms up to anyone.

You chuckle in response.

“It takes a lot more to scare me away, chef,” you reply, confident that you can keep up with everyone’s witty banter. Even though you’ve been welcomed in over the last few days, you know that they were a family before you came.

And will still be one after you.

Right. Because this is temporary. You’re only here for a week, you remind yourself.

“Yeah, thought she’d be long gone after workin’ the line the other night,” Richie chimes in. “Especially considering she’s way out of your league, cousin.”

“Yeah, yeah, fuck you,” Carmy shoots back, almost instantly.

“I’m just glad you’re here now. Man, it’s been three days and you’ve leveled my shit up already,” Marcus compliments.

“Besides, it’s nice to have some solidarity amongst the little boys club we work in every damn day,” Sydney points out, eliciting a scoff from Richie.

The two of you share a look, like a psychic high five or some shit. It begins to dawn on you that you could get used to this: this kitchen, these people….

“What? You got something against women supporting women, Richie?”

“Oh, so what? You’re the voice of feminism now, Syd?” Richie spits back. “Holy shit! Did you guys know that we were here in the presence of the new voice of-.”

You watch as Tina and Gary slump in their chairs, as if to say, ‘here they go again.’

“Don’t be such a prick, Richie. Oh wait.” Sydney challenges.

“You know what-?” Richie starts up, before being swiftly interrupted.

“Damn, Syd. This is fantastic,” you interject, your voice louder than normal, in reference to her family meal. “These tostadas are fuckin’ perfect and I’m gonna need the recipe.”

Richie continues to go on about god knows what, distracting himself, as Sydney mouths a, ‘thank you’ across the table towards you. You nod towards her as if to say,

I got you.

“Hey, I’m a little behind on plating. Sorry, chef,” Marcus apologizes, and you can tell he’s stressed. He gestures towards the plates that are ready to go out to the bar.

He hesitates before asking, “Oh and uh… these ones are ready to go out. Can you-?”

“‘Course, chef,” you answer, a mini-pep talk coming his way. “But uh… before you keep going, Marcus, take a breath. I know you struggle a little with pacing – you want everything to perfect – but, it’s gonna come with practice and repetition.”

You can see that he’s flustered – a little frustrated even.

“Expediting during dinner is a whole other animal, and it’s just night one. You got this,” you reassure.

You and Carmy had such different leadership styles. While you both had come up in the same kind of kitchens, you didn’t like to yell unless you had to. You were here to teach, and you can’t remember the last time someone screaming at you had ever helped you learn something.

You’re more than happy to support him by taking these plates out. You spent the first half of dinner service plating so that he could get some face time with customers – since you’d be asking for feedback. Then you’d switch halfway through service. You also thought it might be good practice for him to lead, considering they’d need to hire more help with the new menus.

You take a look at the ticket, one dessert tasting - two people - bar top, before taking the dessert plates out to the designated seats at the bar. There’s a gorgeous blonde woman sitting next to a guy in a sweater vest, as you make to approach the bar top.

“Hi, you guys,” you greet, a cheerful smile on your face. “Sorry to keep you waiting. We’re testing out a few new desserts for our dinner menu, so I’d love to hear what you think.”

“Oh this looks great,” the woman says, looking at both perfectly plated desserts.

“Here we have a burnt basque cheesecake with a strawberry compote, The Bear’s signature chocolate layer cake, and then a classic Italian tiramisu,” you explain, walking through each piece.

“Wow,” the man marvels, almost as if he’s surprised.

You share your name with them, and let them know that, if they have any feedback, that they can ask for you. As you turn to go, the woman calls after you, stopping you.

“Wait,” she says, her eyes lighting up. “You’re Carmy’s friend.”

“Yes.”

“Pete, it’s Carmy’s friend!” she exclaims, nudging the man next to her with her elbow to try to jog his memory. “You know! The one that’s staying in our airbnb.”

“Oh!” he says, as the light bulb goes on in his brain. “Yeah, we’ve heard all about you.”

“I’m sorry,” the woman apologizes. “I’m Natalie, his sister, but you can call me Sugar. This is my husband, Pete.”

“Oh my god! Natalie! Yes, I’ve heard so much about you too,” you reply, finally registering that this was the same woman in family photos that Carmy had shown you years ago. “It’s so nice to put a face to the name. And great to meet you too, Pete. Seriously, thanks for letting me stay at the place. I mean, you really didn’t have to.”

“Likewise,” she says back. She scoffs before rolling her eyes and continuing. “Leave it to Carmy to ask us for a favor and not even introduce you to us, that soft shitty bitch!”

“Babe,” Pete starts. “Maybe we shouldn’t be so hard on Carmy, you know, in front of his-.” He gestures towards you and you’re not sure what he thinks you are to Carmy.

Sugar brushes him off with a, ‘whatever,’ before you notice that they’re both in need of clean forks.

“You guys need clean forks. I’m gonna-,” you start.

“Oh no! I uh-, let me get it,” Pete interrupts, practically jumping out of his seat.

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, leaving the two of you alone.

You lean against the bar top towards Sugar.

“Well, he couldn’t get out of here fast enough,” you say with a laugh, stating the obvious. She laughs with a nod towards her husband.

“Yeah he’s… special,” she replies. “I think he uh, I think he just wanted to give us some time to talk.”

You’re not sure what to say next, because you’re not sure what you and Carmy’s sister, one you’ve never met before, would have to talk about.

“So how’s the place? Do you have everything you need or-?” Sugar begins, in reference to the airbnb.

“Oh! Yeah, no it’s great. I’ve got everything I need. Again, thank you. You really didn’t have to do that.”

“No, we wanted to!”

“Thanks…” you trail off, suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable – nervous, maybe? Yep, definitely nervous, you realize, as you begin to ramble. “It’s a really great apartment. Beautifully styled.”

What the fuck are you even talking about, you think to yourself.

“Oh, I did that! Styled it, I mean,” Sugar’s quick to respond.

“Oh, wow!” you say. Were all the Berzattos creative? “Yeah, I just-, I really appreciate it. Made getting out here a little easier.”

“No, yeah, it’s-, it’s no problem,” Sugar continues. “Really… anything for a friend of Carmy’s.”

You’re not sure why it’s so awkward, and it feels like you’re somehow both dancing around something you’re not even sure you should be dancing around.

“I hope you don’t think I’m a total bitch for saying this but,” Sugar starts, cautiously. While she doesn’t want to make her brother look like a total loser in front of you, she’s also unsure of how else to say what she says next.

“Bear's never really had any friends… not a lot of them, at least. So I-. Thank you. I mean. For being his friend, I guess… is what I’m trying to say.”

Bear.

You figure it's a family nickname. You wonder why you’ve never heard it before, and yet, it’s no surprise that he kept it from you. He’d been so evasive about his family when you’d first met. For a bit, it just felt like a topic that was off limits.

You take a beat, processing what she’s just said. In some ways, you always knew that Carmy was a bit of a loner, but you could feel the weight of what she’s saying – how much it meant to her.

“I know he’s not always easy to love but. I don’t know. He acts like he doesn’t need people, and I know he does. I mean, people outside of this fucked up shit hole anyways,” she continues, gesturing to her surroundings.

You agree with a small laugh, “Yeah, he can be a real dick sometimes. That’s for sure.”

“Seriously. Thank you,” she says, genuinely.

“Of course,” you reply, making sure she knows that her words mean a lot to you. You take a more playful tone as you continue. “To be fair, we did meet in another fucked up spot. Not so much a shit hole though.”

“Yeah, and there’s that,” she sighs, lightheartedly.

“I’m just glad he has someone. He needs someone. Even when he doesn’t want to.”

The rest of dinner service is a blur, as your mind continues to incubate on what Sugar had said to you. You let your interaction with her sit there, but try your best to focus on supporting the rest of service.

You all work together to wrap up the evening – a chaotic dinner service with a lot of lessons learned. You and Carmy are the last to leave as you notice he’s wrapping up a few things in his office. With your jacket on, backpack slung over one shoulder, you stop by to say goodnight before heading out.

He’s sitting in the chair, furiously scribbling a few notes down on a few pages of graphing paper. Your eyes flicker over all of the silly doodles on the whiteboard behind him.

“Hey,” you say, causing him to look up from his notebook.

“Good service tonight,” he says back.

“Yeah,” you nod in agreement. “Desserts were a hit.”

“I heard,” he replies.

You wait for him to say more, only he doesn’t.

“So, I’m gonna get out of here. Marcus is gonna fly solo tomorrow morning, so I won’t be in till the dinner shift,” you start, shooting him a polite smile.

You take a few steps away from the office before he calls out to you.

“Hey!”

You stop, taking a few steps backwards so that you’re standing in the office doorway once again.

“You hungry?” he asks, tentatively.

There’s a look in his eyes that you can’t quite identify: a little nervousness, and something else you haven’t had a chance to name yet. It’s like he’s not ready to part ways with you yet. You smile back at him, hoping to quell whatever nerves he has about the question he just asked you.

“Always, Carm.”

You’re tired and your feet ache from a particularly busy service, but you’re not ready to part ways with him either.

“Watcha thinkin?” you ask curiously, sliding your other arm through the loose strap of your backpack.

“Can I cook you something?” he proposes, hopefully.

You laugh.

“Is that even a real question?”

You wait for him as he wraps up his notes and gather his things. Carmy slips on his jacket and ballcap, ready to head home with you. On the way, he lights up a cigarette, offering one to you, but you tell him that you’re trying to quit – or at least trying to cut back. It’s not a long walk back to his place, and you anticipate it being something along the same lines as what he had in New York: facebook marketplace couch, minimal food in the fridge, a TV and a bed.

Nothing else – just a place to sleep, before he spends most of his day at the restaurant.

When you arrive, you’re not surprised to see that your assumptions were correct. Carmy flips on a few lights as you follow behind him. You drop your book bag onto his couch, slipping your shoes off and removing your jacket, as Carmy bee lines for the kitchen. You hear the faucet turn on as you tentatively explore his small apartment, before meeting him in the small kitchen area.

He takes his time, washing his hands, before drying them on a dish towel and throwing it over his shoulder.

“So what are we makin’, chef?” you inquire.

“We aren’t making anything. You’re gonna sit right over here,” he begins, gesturing towards the area across from his gas stovetop. “Oh shit. Hold on. Let me grab you a-.”

“I’m good here, chef,” you interrupt, making a sound as you hop onto the kitchen counter. You immediately reach for the bag of chips he’s thrown onto it. It’s not even closed properly with a clip or anything so expect them to be stale as you pop one of the chips into your mouth.

“Sour cream and onion? Change up from your regular doritos, huh?”

A small smile spreads across his face as he moves around his kitchen, locating a quarter sheet pan. He opens his practically desolate fridge, pulling out a fresh brick of pecorino romano, guanciale, and a few eggs he throws right into the pint-sized deli container that lays on the sheet pan. The rest follow: an unopened pound of dried spaghetti and black pepper, before he gently places the sheet pan on the counter, beginning to preheat two pans on the stovetop.

“Are you-?”

“Uh huh.”

You smile to yourself. He’s making one of your favorites: carbonara.

The first time he’d made it for you, you had just started spending some of your days off together – had just agreed to be a part of each others' quarantine pods. You knew he had Italian-American heritage but it was blatantly obvious when you took your first bite.

“Holy fuck,” you had practically moaned at your first bite. “This-, please don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m pretty sure your talents are being wasted on fine dining, my friend. This is… this is fucking unreal, dude.”

You had tried to convince him that this is the food you both should be cooking, but he vehemently denied the idea, insisting the fine dining was the highest on the food chain and the only way he could make a name for himself.

He’d been drinking the kool-aid. You both had.

You sit quietly, as Carmy works. You watch as he cuts perfect lardons, then renders the fat from the cured pork bits. The smell of the guanciale begins to fill the apartment, and Carmy opens a window, just to let the smoke dissipate.

“You can uh, put some music on if you want,” Carmy says, motioning towards the small bluetooth speaker he has on the coffee table. You agree to, hopping off of the kitchen counter and making your way towards his living area to set up the speaker.

You flip through your phone, looking for a good playlist to put on, settling on one of your dinner party playlists. The speaker booms with the sounds of an old jazz standard, redone as an acoustic cover, and you turn the volume up a little as the water for the spaghetti comes to a boil.

You spend time looking through Carmy’s bookshelf. It’s filled with thick-spined cookbooks from James Beard winning best restaurants and chefs. You drag your fingertips over the spine of a few classics, but settle on a fairly new book, written by someone at the New York Times.

“Do you have any other books besides cookbooks?” you call out to him.

He lets out a dry laugh and you take it as a no.

You make your way back to your spot on the counter, sliding the open chip bag over, before hopping back up to your seat. You flip through the cookbook as Carmy stays busy with the pasta.

It’s quiet moments like these that you’ve missed so much. Some days the two of you could talk for hours about sous vide vs reverse searing, and the right way to make a fucking bearnaisse sauce. Other days, Carmy wasn’t much for conversation, and you loved those ones equally. Sometimes, you just wanted company, so he’d come over and work on a recipe and you’d read while he worked in your kitchen.

You could just be together, and it was nice to feel that again.

No awkward tension of things left unsaid.

But there was a different kind of tension that seemed to linger between the two of you and you wondered if it had always been there. Had you just never noticed? Between the little comments from Richie about being out of his league, and Pete’s open-ended ‘not in front of his’ you wondered if everyone knew something you didn’t.

“Which one’d you go with?” he asks, continuing his graceful dance around the kitchen.

“Korean American. Eric Kim. I hadn’t had a chance to pick up a copy for myself yet, actually,” you answer, flipping through the first few pages.

Your met with quiet as you continue your story.

“You know we’re kind of friends. We went out for drinks a few times. Before I quit my job. Went dancing in the east village and stayed out till two in the morning bar hopping and gossiping about our mutual celebrity crush, Timothee Chalamet,” you add, your attention still fixed on the vibrant, colorful food photographs.

“Timothee Chalamet, huh?” Carmy asks, amused.

Your attention isn’t on Carmy, or what he’s doing, save for the sounds of him moving around the kitchen. That is, until you look up to find him unceremoniously close to you, peering over onto the page you seem so fascinated with.

“Jesus Christ, Car!” you gasp, surprised by his close proximity. Your heart was beating faster as he took a step back. “You scared the shit out of me!”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, his head hanging as he takes a few steps back. “Didn’t mean to.”

“No, it’s okay!” you assure. But it’s too late, so you change the subject, deciding to finish your story. “Anyways uh… I had to hang out with someone after you left New York. Make some new friends.”

“We both know you’ve never struggled with that,” Carmy points out, eliciting a playful eye roll from you.

He returns with the most aesthetically pleasing twirl of spaghetti carbonara. It’s so perfect you almost can’t fathom eating it. He hands it to you, then returns to his kitchen counter, plating a second bowl for himself.

After finishing the second twirl, he carelessly tosses his carving fork into the sink, opening another drawer to grab two forks for eating.

“Come on. You don’t want it to get cold,” he encourages, handing you one of the forks.

He waits patiently for you to try it first, so you dig your fork in, creating a spaghetti twirl that hugs the fork, before raising it up to your lips. You open your mouth, taking a bite, before closing your eyes in absolute bliss.

“I can’t fucking stand you.”

He smiles, and it’s the biggest smile you’ve seen on his face this whole week.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean. Fuck you. Like… absolutely fuck you.”

He laughs, finally picking up his own fork and digging into the second bowl he’s plate for himself.

Holy fuck, is it out of this world.

“Like, do you think they’re such a thing as a talent aggression? Like a cute aggression, only I want to squeeze your head off because you’re so damn talented-kind of aggression?” you pitch your idea to him, playfully.

He laughs, a blush spreading across his cheeks, “Uh… no. I don’t think so.”

Carmy rests his back against the counter, as you eat together, side by side. You eat quietly, exchange looks and quiet giggles as the two of you finish your pasta, slurping up the cheesy, egg-yolk coated noodles. When you finish your bowl, you put it down on the counter next to you, throwing your head back with a sigh.

“Thank you,” you say, fully satisfied as you feel the dopamine rush of eating carbs.

“That good, huh?” he asks, a cocky smirk on his face.

“So good,” you exhale happily, as you rest your head on his shoulder. “And you know it, you asshole.”

He chuckles, turning his head towards you just as you lift your head off of his shoulder, your faces mere inches away from each other. You watch as his face turns a few shades darker, the blush across his cheeks running through his whole face.

Are you two fucking idiots to pretend that you were just friends?

Yeah. Yes, you are.

“Sorry, I’m, I didn’t mean to um,” he stutters, beginning to pull away from you.

“Wait,” you call out, reaching out to stop him. You grab his arm.

And there it is again… the tension. That thing that, even when you had talked it out, has remained between you two. He stops moving, his eyes fixated on your hand – the one that’s reached for him. The one that feels hot against his skin.

“Carm, I-. Um, I’ve really missed…” you stammer through, trying not to sound as breathless as you feel.

I’ve really missed you.

“... your carbonara.” He looks up at you with those beautifully sad, cerulean blue eyes, and if you weren’t breathless before, you certainly are now.

“You should make this more often,” is all you manage to get out, and you know you sound helpless.

He doesn’t know what to say back. That he can hear the ache in your voice – a yearning for him that he never imagined anyone could ever have for him. That it’d be world war three, trying to get a carbonara on the dinner menu. That screaming would ensue over a goddamn emulsion. That there’d be no way to pull this off authentically, and that he’d have to use heavy cream, and no fucking way would he compromise on that.

On your favorite fucking dish.

That he only has these ingredients on hand because he went out and bought them in preparation for your visit.

That he only got them for you.

Because he maybe only wants to make carbonara for you, and only you, for forever and ever.

That he’s missed you too, and that wanting you is one of the scariest things he’s ever felt.

His eyes flicker from your hand, the one still holding onto him, and then back to your face. He’s not sure what possesses him to do it, but he can hear his brother’s voice in his head, let it rip, pushing him to lean in – even closer towards you. You wrap your fingers around his arm, encouraging him closer to you – if it’s even possible. Your foreheads meet and it’s as if all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. It’s like your vision narrows and the dimly lit apartment has faded away behind you.

It’s just you and him.

You feel dizzy – in the most delicious way possible.

You’re not sure who moves in first, but the tip of his nose is ever so gently bumping against yours. You brush the side of your nose against his, neither of you daring to take a breath.

“Carm?”

He doesn’t answer, so you gently begin to leave a kiss against the corner of his mouth.

“This okay?”

Then the side of his top lip.

“Mhm,” he nods, eager to continue where this is going.

Then you pull back, pulling him towards you so that, as you remain perched on top of his kitchen countertop, he fits perfectly between your knees. You lean in to kiss him, and this time, it’s not as hesitant… not as cautious as you’ve both been.

No, these kisses are different, each one opening up the door to more and more – more want, more need, more lust – and as it blooms, as it blossoms, you feel Carmy’s hand move gingerly to cradle your face as you fall down the rabbit hole. Your fingers tangle into his blonde curls allowing your sheer want for him to consume you. It’s lips, and tangled tongues, and tentative, soft moans as you continue to pull each other closer and closer.

And you slowly begin to understand: the lingering tension, the avoidance of labeling you from his brother-in-law, why he’s been terrified to say a damn thing to you this entire week.

As much as you tried, and as much as he’s tried, neither of you had put that night behind you.

Sure, it was shitty timing, and sure he wasn’t in the right headspace then. But now?

Now, could be different, if you’d let it.

Carmy pulls away from you, reluctantly, his face hot before asking, “You uh, you wanna take this somewhere else?”

His tone is hopeful, as if he’s the teenage dirtbag asking the prom queen out – like if you heard him, and you laughed in his face, he simply wouldn’t survive it.

But your response is quite the opposite, and he feels silly for worrying, as you manage a breathy ‘yes’ going back in for one more kiss. He gives you some space to hop off the counter and you grab his hand, leading him towards his bedroom. It’s not a huge place, so you put two and two together about where that is. Carmy leaves the lights off in his bedroom, the only glimmer of light either of you can see comes from the living room lamps, and the kitchen overhead.

With his hand in yours, you pull him towards you again, and he’s more than happy to let you lead. You begin to kiss him, taking note of how perfectly his top lip feels nestled in between yours. He follows you down to his bed, hesitant to put his full body weight on top of you. You giggle into the kiss, pulling him down to you.

“I’m not a porcelain doll, Carm,” you tease, gently.

You feel his lips twist into a smile against yours, as he begins to leave sloppier, wetter kisses down your neck. You allow him to explore as his hesitation lessens, his hands beginning to bunch up the hemline of your shirt. Higher and higher. And before you know it, you’re taking it off, impatiently throwing it somewhere you’ll barely remember in the light of day. You pull Carmy back down for another kiss, this time with a little more intensity, as he covers his body with yours, his hands and mouth exploring every inch of newly revealed skin that he possibly can.

You’re not sure when his shirt joined yours on the floor but before it registers, you’re running your fingers across the muscles of his back, exploring each peak and valley. You hiss in pure pleasure as he pulls down one of the cups of your bra, his tongue running across one of your nipples. You can feel him smile against your skin, a well-won reaction from the pleasure he’s giving you. His other hand reaches up to give equal attention to your other breast, and moments later, you’re both impatiently pulling your bra off.

“Wanna try something,” Carmy murmurs, his eyes meeting yours.

You can feel the wet heat pooling between your legs as you breathe out, “Okay.”

The anticipation is building in your body and you feel like your head might explode. Carmy busies his mouth once again, leaving kisses down your torso as his hands begin to fiddle with the button on your jeans. You giggle, more than willing to help him out as he gets them undone, lifting your hips so that he can slide them off.

He’s hesitant, and you’re trying your damnedest to be patient as he takes his sweet time to marvel at your almost-naked body.

“So fucking perfect,” Carmy whispers, in between leaving wet, open mouthed kisses across your hip bones. You can hardly breathe, panting out loud as he continues his exploration. You make space for him between your legs as he slips his hands into your panties, dragging a finger up and down your dripping sex.

He checks in with you, gauging your reaction, and you nod as he continues what he’s doing.

“This all for me?” he asks. He means for it to sound confident, but as the words leave him, he sounds more surprised than anything.

Before you can answer, he’s pushing your legs wider, his tongue gently running across your clit, causing you to cry out to the gods. He’s tentative at first, but it doesn’t take long for him to gather up the confidence to keep going, with the noises you’re making. At first it’s all tongue, licking, circling and flattening up against you, but you’re losing your mind as he adds his fingers back into the mix. His fingers are buried deep inside of you while his lips and tongue are bringing you far past your edge.

It’s as if the only words you can remember are his name, and ‘fuck.’

You feel his lips curl into a smile against you as he murmurs, “Just wanna make you feel good.”

You can feel it – your climax – building up, and Carmy groans, rutting his hips into the bed as he can no longer ignore how hard he is.

“Carmy, yes. Don’t stop, please. I’m-,” you beg, your voice shaking.

And he has no intention of stopping till he gets what he wants – till he makes you cum. He works you through your orgasm, groaning against you as you cum on his tongue and around his fingers. You swear for a moment that you can’t hear a single thing as stars fill your vision. As you come to, it starts with only the sounds of the heavy pants that escape your mouth. Carmy sits up, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

“Holy fuck,” you say, breathless.

Carmy lays over you once again, kissing you, and you can taste yourself on his lips.

Your hands fumble with the button on his jeans and you order, no patience left in a single cell of your body, “Off. These need to come off.”

He chuckles, hurrying through the removal of his jeans. You’re so eager to feel the weight of his body on top of yours again that you pull him back down to you before he’s even able to properly take them off.

He’s kissing you again as you reach down, grabbing his hard length through his underwear. He’s thicker than you remember. You slip your hand into the waistband of his briefs, causing him to grunt. He hisses your name as you wrap your soft hand around his dick, bucking his hips into your hand.

“Do you have a condom?” you ask, desperately. “I wanna feel you, Carm.”

“Mhm.”

He doesn’t keep condoms around. It’s not like this happens very often for him. But Richie had thrown a pack of condoms at his head the minute he found out that the friend that was coming to visit was a girl. Richie had teased him with some stupid quip like ‘don’t forget to wrap it up, cousin. No one wants a mini-eleven madison park dickhead running around here.’

He hadn’t expected this to happen. But it’s not like he’d thrown the condoms away either – tucking them into the single drawer of his nightstand.

You wait as he reaches over and pulls out a condom from his nightstand. You want to ask him about why he has them, but as long as you get to feel him, you’re not sure you care.

You’ve been here before with him, but this is different. He sits up on his knees and you follow him, pulling his briefs down properly and giving him time to roll on the condom. He follows you back down onto the bed as you wrap a leg around his waist so that he can fit perfectly between yours.

He waits a beat, and then you feel his thick tip pushing against you, causing your breath to catch in your throat. He rubs the head up and down your slick core, before slowly beginning to push into you.

You both gasp at the feel of each other.

“Fuck. You’re so fuckin’ tight,” he moans, dropping his head into the crevice of your neck. He hopes you can’t tell how utterly helpless he feels.

You hiss at the way he’s stretching you open, the pads of your fingertips digging into his arms. You’re holding onto his arms for dear life as he fills you all the way to the hilt. You let out another moan as you as he stays there for a moment.

“This okay?”

You nod, pulling him down to kiss you again. You start moving your hips against his as Carmy gives you shallow thrusts.

“Hold on,” he breathes out, holding your hips down for a moment. “Just-, just give me a second.”

And you do, allowing him to collect himself, before he’s giving you shallow, gentle thrusts.

But you’re in desperate need for more.

“Carmy?”

“Yeah?”

“Fucking move.”

Finally, finally, he pulls almost all the way out, before driving himself back into you, earning a cry from you as the pleasure is just too much.

“Oh fuck!”

You want more. You want everything and all of him and so much more. And he gives it to you, continuing to check in that what he’s doing is okay. Before you know it, you’re begging him to go faster, harder, convincing him that you’re not fucking breakable and that you want more, grasping at the sheets and his biceps, and his curls – anything you can hang on to as he’s bringing you over your edge again for the second time tonight.

You’re crying out his name as you cum, and Carmy thinks it may be the sweetest, best thing he’s ever heard in his life. He fucks you through your climax, beginning to slow down the pace of this thrusts. He pauses, kisses you long and hard, passionately pausing just to be in this moment with you.

“Carm?” you manage to get out. You wonder if he can hear how much you want him just by the sound of your voice.

“Hm?”

“I wanna ride you,” you say, and you can feel that your words have gone straight to his dick as he twitches inside of you.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The two of you clumsily change positions – him on his back staring up at you in awe, like how the hell does that perfect, beautiful, creature want to be here with me now? You reach down, guiding him back inside of you and you’re both gasping at the contact. You begin grinding your hips against him, watching his eyes roll back as you make your movement a little bigger.

“Jesus Christ,” he sighs out, the pleasure of it all taking over his brain.

You know he won’t last much longer as you begin to ride him, rocking your hips back and forth. Carmy hands are on your hips, then running up and down your torso, grabbing your tits, and then they’re pulling you down to him for another passionate makeout as you continue your movements. You can feel his thrusts becoming more erratic as he starts thrusting up into you. You keep riding him, reaching for his hands and placing them along your hips.

“Show me how you want it,” you whisper in between kisses.

“I think this is nice,” he manages to say.

“Show me how you want it, Carmen,” you demand, emphasizing your need for him with use of his full name. “Let me make you cum.”

You squeeze his hands against your ass, egging him on, and he’s not sure what he’s done to deserve this. He holds onto your hips, before thrusting up into you, setting a bruising pace as your moans become louder and louder. You scream out his name, as he brings you closer and closer to your high, chasing his with him.

He grunts, his thrusts becoming sloppier, messier, more desperate and you let him use your body in the most delicious ways.

“Are you gonna cum?”

Instead of answering, he’s driving into you like a fucking mad man, and you’re riding him through his high till you both collapse.

Carmy lets out a strangled moan as he cums, so you begin to slow your movements. You’re breathless, hunched over him, your foreheads touching as you exchange a laugh.

It's a kind of 'I can't believe we just did that' kind of laugh.

“Holy shit,” he says, shaking his head.

“Yeah,” you agree, a stupid, blissed out smile on both of your faces.

“That was-.”

“Yeah.”

You get off of him, allowing him to get up and dispose of the condom. He’s not gone long before he returns to you, wrapping the both of you up in his sheets and into his arms. It feels unlike anything you’ve ever had.

It feels… magnificent.

“Stay with me tonight?” he asks, leaving a few soft kisses along your shoulder.

“After that?” you giggle, as his lips against your neck begin to tickle. “You’re not getting rid of me, Berzatto. Not a fucking chance.”

read: part five

taglist: @lazypeachsoul @bookwormvoyageuse @allthefandomstogether @gaysludge @sobshoney

#carmy berzatto smut #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #the bear marcus #sydney adamu #the bear tina #richie jerimovich #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto smut

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cultrise · 8 months

Text

MASTURBATION. GETO SUGURU

☽ CONTENTS NSFW, masturbation, he kinda gets caught, frustrated suguru ᵎᵎ wc 1.8k

ᵎᵎ check the mlist for kinktober here !

being your friend was pretty hard for poor suguru.

it wasn’t until shoko brought it up that suguru actually realised that what he felt for you was beyond friendship. and he was denying it heavily at first. like sure, maybe he felt his eyes looking for yours each time you were in the same room, maybe he felt his lip corners turn up whenever you spoke and maybe seeing you smile made his stomach do flips and cartwheels.. but that was just because you two were such close friends… right?…

he carried on with this behaviour for a while, denying any observation shoko made regarding the differences in the way he acted with others and the way he acted with you. it was pretty easy for suguru to just roll his eyes, scoff and walk away from shoko, even though he wouldn’t have heard the end of it. but when satoru gojo, his best friend, started to point out the same things shoko did, suguru knew he was royally fucked.

it was one thing for his other friends to notice his crush on you — which was growing more and more evident as the days went by — and it was completely another for satoru. he was his best friend since high school, the only person who truly understood him. if satoru said “dude, you have the hots for her” then it must’ve been true. and now, it had become almost impossible for suguru to deny his feelings. almost.

because suguru found himself in the worst and, at the same time, the funniest predicaments. the four of you were gathered up at satoru’s place, for your usual movie night. there was nothing different about your behaviour, you always did seem to gravitate around suguru after all… but somehow, for whatever reason, he found himself unable to stop his hormones from going wild.

there was nothing unusual to your look either, hair was just a bit messy, a little eyeliner enhancing your pretty eyes, some lipgloss on those perfect, soft lips and a lowcut shirt that showcased your enticing collarbones. suguru could not, for the life of him, peel his eyes away. especially not when satoru, grinning from ear to ear, would lean into his best friend’s ear and go “you’re pretty red? see anything ya’ like?”

“shut up, satoru. i’ll literally kill you” suguru hissed between his teeth as he got up to get himself another glass of pepsi. a loud chuckle was heard behind him as his best friend followed. if there was anything gojo satoru was good at, it was teasing the hell out of people, especially considering he had never seen suguru attracted to anyone so much before. seeing his calm state being absolutely shattered by you amused satoru to the core.

“come on, suguru. she’s right there. are you really not gonna make a move?” suguru almost spit the drink out of his mouth before giving satoru a glare.

“are you kidding? do you think i came here with the intention to start anything?” suguru asks, completely baffled. he earns a shrug from the white-haired as he pushes the glasses back on the bridge of his nose.

“you could.. or, you can keep jacking off to her when you’re alone at night like a sad loser” suguru hissed, trying his best not to punch satoru in the throat.

“what would you know about it?” and satoru gives another amused chuckle, hands on his hips as he sassily responds “i’ve seen you two. you think i don’t see the way she looks at you? i’m just sayin’, it’s pretty stupid to not take a chance. plus, it’s pretty noticeable you haven’t fucked someone in a long time. it’s time you got laid, buddy” he places a caring hand on suguru’s shoulder before exiting the kitchen.

suguru lands a painful slap to his forehead. he hated how right satoru was. in truth, he had no guts to come up to you and talk about his feelings. he was a pretty reserved guy, to begin with, and even if it was a daily occurrence for suguru to sway girls and boys alike, whenever he truly liked someone he turned into a red, hot mess. he dreaded sitting down with you and confessing his feelings, even if you did reciprocate them. it made him all too anxious.

so he decided to take the usual approach when he hit situations like these, in which he couldn’t stop the thoughts about you from flooding his brain. he glanced back into the living room, watching you laid back on the couch and laughing at some scene in the movie. suguru bit his lip with a sigh as he heard your chuckle flood the place, being followed by some frantic chatting with the other two figures in the room. and god, weren’t you just perfect? suguru had to retreat soon. he knew he couldn’t go back to the movie. not when your laugh made him shiver all over and sent all the blood in his body straight to his dick.

suguru felt dirty. he felt perverted. he felt so disgusting. but there was nothing else he could’ve done. what was he supposed to do, anyway? walk back into the living room and sit down on the couch like he didn’t have the most obvious boner known to man? he tried to find excuses that would help his scenario, that would help him get over the shame he felt.

however, it was pretty hard to think at that point, when his hand was pumping his leaking, hardened cock so aggressively, eyes rolling into the back of his head. if you found out about this behaviour that had been going on for months now, suguru knew he’d let himself be suffocated by shame. even so, suguru couldn’t help but lock himself in the nearest bathroom and jack off to the thoughts of you that clouded his mind.

“haah… shit..” suguru breathed out, pressing his left hand to his lips in an attempt to muffle out the sounds coming out of him. it was impossible to resist, his hand moving even quicker along his length, hips bucking upwards, desperate for contact. each time he closed his eyes he saw you in the most obscene positions, each time they opened he imagined it was your mouth or your pussy that was taking his cock in so well.

suguru’s hair was coming undone, the hair tie falling somewhere on the floor as he desperately gripped the porcelain of the sink. no matter how quick or how precise his hand’s strokes were, he couldn’t seem to get off. it made him desperate, afraid that somebody might knock on the door and start asking questions. and he knew damn well he couldn’t go back out there with his dick ready to burst.

“f..fuck… come on, you fucking.. aahh..!” suguru groaned in frustration as his hips stuttered upwards, precum spilling all over his fingers. his back arched for a bit as he felt himself coming close to climax, neck veins popping out as he tried to suppress his desperate moans. his dark bangs had started to stick to his now sweaty face as his lids threatened to close, mouth slightly agape in pleasure.

unbeknownst to suguru, however, you had gotten pretty worried about him. so, as gojo and shoko decided to argue about a scene from the movie you found a chance to slip away and look for the dark-haired man. you followed along the corridor with unsteady steps, unsure if you were supposed to be roaming around gojo’s mansion just to look for his best friend. because, funny enough, you were in the same situation as suguru, uncertain whether he felt the same way you did when you met his eyes.

your steps halt abruptly as you hear some strange sounds coming from behind the bathroom's closed door. grunts and moans hit your eardrum as you got closer, curious as to suguru's ventures. your breath gets caught in your throat as you glue your ear to the wooden panel, now sure of what was happening. the wet squelches were so audible now, clearly indicating to how desperate suguru was, rubbing his hardened cock like his life depended on it. and, to satiate your curiosity, as if he was aware of the question circling your brain, he lets out a muffled gasp of your name as his cock twitches into his fist.

you find yourself rubbing your thighs together, face hot at what you are hearing. the urge to just open the door and fuck him then and there was huge. you wished he would just open the door and pull you in, teasing you about the wet patch that formed on your underwear. suguru's head was now thrown back as the cum oozed from his flushed tip, leaking all the way down his length and onto his fingers as his dick started to go limp. you could hear him trying to stabilise his breathing, his voice slowly giving out.

"shit... i'm so fucking disgusting" suguru sighs, chest heaving as he glances down at the mess he made. he quickly starts cleaning himself, making sure there's no trace of his little session. after washing his hands he looks at himself in the mirror, shaking his head as his cheeks bear a slight shade of pink. after rinsing his face, tying up his hair and making sure, once again, that there is no evidence of him masturbating to you he exits the bathroom, trying to make his way back to his friends without looking suspicious.

a smile rests on satoru's cheeks as he watches his best friend stumble into the kitchen. you take notice of suguru as well, biting your lip and squeezing your thighs again. you were too scared of facing him in that state, especially after listening to him jerk off. so you just ran back to the couch, trying to stop the most foul thoughts from entering your mind. shoko takes out the lollipop from between her lips, smacking them as her eyes follow "the two menaces", as she loved to call them.

"they're going to talk about you again, you know?" she says with a small smirk, your eyes widening "what?..." shoko simply rolls her eyes, placing her chin in the palm of her right hand "come on... everybody and their mom knows that that idiot, suguru, is in love with you. i don't know why you don’t talk to him.."

back in the kitchen, satoru was ready to tease suguru until he bled "had a good jerking sesh?" suguru sighed, turning around "was it that obvious?" laughter is the only thing coming out of the other man "you kiddin'? you practically bolted. 20 minutes, i'm impressed"

as suguru rolls his eyes, his phone dings, giving him a perfect excuse to ignore satoru. but as soon as he opens it, suguru's eyes widen, his pupils shaking. switching positions quickly, satoru glances over his shoulder, blowing a raspberry as soon as he reads the text "fuck me, finally!" he exclaims, face beaming with joy while suguru's remained horrified.

"next time, ask me to join you <3”

#✦— kinktober.#𐙚 — pages.#𐙚— dreamscape.#geto #geto suguru #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk geto #geto x reader #geto x reader smut #geto suguru x reader #kinktober '23 #kinktober 2023 #kinktober

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johnpriceslamb · 3 months

Note

hihi could u maybe do an arthur morgan x fem!reader??

i was thinkin about the reader being really upset about something and which arthur (being that kinda person) he noticed quickly, they walked to his tent for then the reader to be comforted by arthur morgan (he isnt good at comforting but he tries real hard,, take ur time ofc! we love u-🎀

𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓪𝔀𝓷,

❥ You’re sad. Arthur finds out and comes to comfort you.

𝓑𝓔𝓕𝓞𝓡𝓔 𝓨𝓞𝓤 𝓟𝓡𝓞𝓒𝓔𝓔𝓓 ! ꒰ female ! reader . hyper-feminine ! reader . reader is mentioned 2 be physically shorter than characters mentioned below . crybbie reader sorraiiii . Karen’s a meanie pants but she loves reader . 1.1k wrd count. ꒱

❥ Arthur Morgan x female ! reader

You’re sensitive.

You don’t mean to be, but sometimes you take what people say a bit too seriously.

It’s not a bad thing to be sensitive, but you’re in a gang. A gang filled with murderers, thieves, criminals, whatever. You’re prone to being teased and made fun of- even more likely due to your soft nature and demure figure.

Usually, you spend your time doing chores or assisting Pearson with cooking. What you lacked in strength and courage to be able to hold a gun, you made up with your skills in being able to feed the gang actual food, instead of.. the usual stews Pearson made.

From then on, you gained the honouring title of ‘Pearson’s assistant.’

Then again you’d much prefer being referred to your actual name.

“—‘n I’m just sayin’..” The woman in blonde stirs her spoon in the stew you made, mindlessly blabbering about.

Karen was a sweet girl, she really is. But sometimes, she enjoys talking. A bit too much.

“You ain’t really uh.. fit for all this.” She gestures to camp.

Ouch.

You shrink in the log you sat upon, meekly fiddling with the utensil in your hand. You get where she’s coming from, but nevertheless you still took it to heart.

“Karen!” Mary-Beth softly hits her upper arm, a scolding tone picks on, “C’mon, lay off it.”

She shrugs. “‘M just saying what everyone wants to hear. It’s like seeing a fawn amongst a pack o’ wolves.”

She’s blunt. You’ve known her for a while, considered her as a friend. And you knew well enough that she does not sugar coat things. You’re not sure if you should take what she said as a compliment or not, but regardless you still feel a bit embarrassed at the fact that you didn’t really fit in.

“H—Hey,” You feel yourself crumble at the fact that your tone took on a higher pitch as a defence mechanism and the stuttering which makes her point stand even more bolder, “I’m.. I’m trying, okay?”

Karen looks at you with a demeaning expression. That’s all it takes to shut your pretty little mouth up.

Then, she lets out a soft giggle.

“C’mon girl, y’know I was just jokin’. You just sit there and look pretty for us.”

You take this as an opportunity to leave, going on with your day but with a heavy heart.

You find yourself near the lake which is situated just right beside the camp, staring off at the distance with a long look. You know Karen was just playing around, but you still can’t help that little sharp pang in your heart.

You don’t notice the approaching steps from behind. You hear the sound of fabrics scrunching together as they squat behind you, a warm hand lays gently on your shoulder.

“Hey.”

You tilt your head upwards, eyes landing on the loyal enforcer of the gang.

“Hi,” You whisper back. Unconsciously does your head lay on his chest, and almost immediately do you feel better being in Arthur’s embrace.

His arms wrap around you, a gentle kiss is placed on the side of your head. He lovingly looks at you, cold eyes which softens at the sight of his sweetheart. It falters a bit when they see those pretty eyes glimmer in the light.

“Y’alright?” He asks with a tone of concern. His arms tighten at the sight of your vulnerability.

“Mhm.” You meekly nod, feigning your expression with a soft smile, “I’m fine.”

“Mm.” His upper eyelids cover half of his eyes. His expression was almost lazy, dog-like. “No use lying to me, sweetheart. Yer lips quiver when you do.”

You almost melt at how lovely his voice sounded.

“C’mon,” He gestures for you to stand up. He lends you a hand for you to aid yourself onto your two feet, a hand rests upon the curve of your hip to guide you to his tent.

“Where we goin’?” You ask shyly, leaning into his touch.

“My tent. We’re goin’ to talk.” He replies blankly.

You don’t say anything until you’ve reached his tent. He guided you to the edge of his bed, allowing you to sit. He sizes you up a few times, quietly admiring you for a moment before sitting next to you, knees touching.

“What’s wrong, hm? Why’s gotten my girl so down?” Your hand unconsciously grabs onto his to squeeze, fiddle around with. He wants to chuckle at your puppy-like neediness but forces himself not to.

“..Just some stuff Karen said.” You meekly explain, fiddling with his fingers, “Said ‘m not really fit for.. any of this.”

“She said that?” He says with a frown, scratching at his strong jaw.

“Mm,” You nod.

“‘Reckon she’s right.”

“Eh?” You almost pout at how immediate he was to agree.

“Hey, c’mon. I ain’t even get to finish. I mean, she’s right. You don’t fit in. You’re too good for any of this.” He explains himself, biting his lip to prevent himself from doing anything to you. Your eyes did a lot to him, unbeknownst to you.

“Way too good.” He mumbles, lovingly rubbing circles on your little palm.

“You really think so?” You ask with a shy smile.

“I know so.” He nods, leaning in to press a little kiss on your forehea. He leans back to peer at your face again.

“C’mon, I know you.” He sighs, “Don’t let Karen’s words get to your mind. Even if you don’t really fit in, yer still one of us now. Y’hear?”

You shyly nod. With just one nod down to his lap do you immediately crawl towards him, cuddling up to him like a bug in a leaf.

#fem! reader #rdr2 x you #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x reader #afab! reader #arthur morgan x fem! you #rdr2 #arthur morgan x fem! reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan rdr2 #red dead redemption fanfic

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simpingforstardew · 4 months

Text

misty [chapter two]

pairing: sdv harvey x reader

synopsis: harvey has always been a man of routine and order— although just as he begins to tire of his life in pelican town, a new farmer moves to the valley and turns his life around. chapter two.

warnings: some angst in this one (tw/ description of familial death). pure fluff and romance; eventual smut, but that'll be tagged when the time comes !! please enjoy my harvey playlist while you read ♡ (this is crossposted from ao3).

word count: 1.6k

<< last chapter | next chapter >>

The Stardrop Saloon, bathed in the soft glow of warm, dim lighting, welcomes its patrons with a comforting ambiance. The air carried the distinct aroma of aged wood and the faint scent of a crackling fireplace, giving the bar a rustic charm. The gentle hum of conversation mixed with the mellow tunes emanating from the vintage jukebox, creating an intimate symphony that echoed throughout the space.

In the games lounge, a haven within the heart of the saloon, the atmosphere took on a relaxed and casual vibe. Two arcade machines stand as silent sentinels; their screens flicker with pixelated adventures. The soft glow of the games cast dancing shadows on the well-worn couches nearby, a testament to the countless conversations and moments that must have been shared over the years. Adjacent stands the pool table adorned with worn-out felt and scarred by countless games. A haphazard arrangement of colourful pool balls wait patiently for their turn, illuminated by the warm glow of an overhead light.

“What the fuck? Fired?” Shane’s disbelief echoed through the saloon, as the cue ball he hits ricochets off the side of the pool table, “Just like that?”

“Yep,” You chuckle— both at the absurdity of your own misfortune, and Shane’s awful shot “HR claimed my ‘extended bereavement’ could lead to ‘performance issues’ and ‘wasting company resources’… Whatever that means”

Shane let out a snort, taking a swig of his beer. “And here I thought working in retail was a special kind of hell. Turns out even the corporate suits have their own issues.”

You accepted the pool cue he passed your way, unable to resist a playful jab, “Thanks, Shane. You’re making me feel so much better.”

The short man scoffs, grabbing his beer from the table behind him to take a long sip. “Just sayin’, you dodged a bullet getting the fuck outta there.”

Chuckling, you circled the pool table, searching for the perfect shot, “Well, it’s not all bad. Getting the boot from Joja pushed me to embrace farm life here. Guess I’m lucky in a weird way.”

“Yeah, lucky you,” he deadpanned, though a glimmer of curiosity flickered in his eyes. His attempt at sarcasm faltered as your shot proved victorious, sinking the 8-ball with a delicate tap.

“Talk shit all you want, but it seems like my luck’s holding up pretty well considering I just wiped the floor with you.” You flashed a triumphant grin, leaning the pool cue against the wall. Shane’s stoic exterior cracked, and for a moment, a genuine smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“Beginner’s luck,” he huffed, yet the twinkle in his eye hinted at a begrudging acceptance of your presence, “That kinda luck doesn’t count.”

“Yeah, yeah— A win is a win, Shane!” You shrug on your coat with a smile, heading towards the front door of the saloon, “You owe me a drink next time I’m here!”

Without turning to see Shane roll his eyes, you step out into the quiet darkness of the night. Your smile quickly fades as the door of the saloon swings shut, leaving behind the warmth of the bar. As you enter the town square, a serene hush settles over Pelican Town, its sett streets bathe in the soft, ambient glow of vintage street lamps scattered along the thoroughfare. The spring breeze carries the distant melody of an insectile symphony, the noise of crickets underscoring the serene ambiance that envelopes the town.

Strolling through unfamiliar streets under the moonlit sky, your steps echo against the rough cobblestones beneath you. Your shoulders are hunched against the night chill and your gaze remains fixed on the ground, a mosaic of uneven stones beneath your feet. Each step whispers a story of the town’s resilience, of seasons changing, and the curious rhythm of life in Pelican Town.

Once inside the farmhouse, however, you realize that you have made a grave misstep. Arranging for your grandfather’s funeral, clearing your new land of trees and shrubbery, drinking with the townsfolk— these had all allowed you to keep your hands busy and your mind blank. Now, alone in your dark farmhouse, you had no distractions from your new reality.

The house itself was bleak. Each attempt to redecorate felt like an intrusion— as if the space itself was resisting your efforts to make it feel like home. The bed stood as a lonely sentinel in the corner of the room, illuminated by the crackling flames of the fireplace on the furthest wall. The room itself was adorned with remnants of your grandfather’s presence; even your sleeping cat— Pixel— was the runt of your grandfather’s cat’s litter.

A small pot of forget-me-nots, once vibrant, now drooped listlessly on the windowsill. You reached out, your fingers gently brushing against the frail petals, a silent acknowledgment of the grief that clung to every corner of the room. You are at least blessed with a working CRT television, although with access to only two channels in the valley, the device feels like a relic of a bygone era.

A cold draft sweeps through the room as you look above the TV: the otherwise barren wall displays a single faded family photograph, featuring your late grandfather, grandmother, and you. The glass of the frame cracked during the move and the photograph itself never seems to hang straight. You move to bring the photograph down from its place on the wall, holding it delicately in your hands— as if it could shatter at any moment. The photograph captures a moment frozen in the sepia hues of nostalgia.

In the centre, your grandfather stands tall, a patriarchal figure with calloused hands cradling a newborn lamb. His eyes, warm and crinkled with a lifetime of stories, radiate a quiet wisdom that guided your childhood. Besides him, your grandmother’s hands gently cup a cluster of wildflowers. The fabric of her apron was slightly swept, caught in the breeze. In the foreground, you: a child with innocent eyes and a smile that mirrored the joy of the moment. Clutched in your small hands was a clumsy, makeshift bouquet. The backdrop was the farmhouse itself, standing proudly amidst a sea of greenery; the sun bathed the scene in a warm glow. Yet, even in this idyllic tableau, there lingered a subtle melancholy, as if the photograph itself harboured the prescience of inevitable goodbyes.

The frame, once resplendent, now bears the scars of time—a crack here, a chip there. The glass that shields the captured memories has grown cloudy, as if the passage of years had draped a delicate veil over the faces of those who once shared laughter under the farmhouse’s sturdy roof. A sob escapes your throat as a tear splashes on the glass of the portrait; hesitantly, you place the photograph on top of your small table. You take a step back. You chuckle solemnly, wiping your eyes using the back of your sleeves as you yawn.

Pixel mews softly, as you climb into the cold sheets of your bed, before falling back to sleep. The silence of the farmhouse envelopes you like a weighted blanket, as moonlight floods through the windows of the farmhouse. It seemed that sleep was becoming increasingly elusive as you tossed and turned in bed.

The gratitude for your budding friendship with Elliot and Shane brings a bittersweet comfort, as you stare up at the ceiling, watching the way the moonlight casts a silver glow above. Elliot was the first person in the valley to approach you. His efforts to get to know you eased your anxiety about the new town. Shane was a tough nut to crack, but you suppose any stranger is your friend after too many beers— at the very least, you had a new drinking buddy.

The doctor you met before entering the saloon flashes through your mind as your eyes flutter shut.

‘Harvey,’ You mentally correct yourself, ‘His name is Harvey… and he doesn’t like decaf.’ You softly exhale, a smile tugging at your lips. He was… cute? A little bashful, sure, but he was more than gorgeous enough to make up for his nerves. Your face heats up thinking about his broad, towering figure; and the way his moustache curls up with his coy grin; and the way his dimpled, freckled cheeks blush so intensely when you look into his forest green eyes…

You turn to cover your face in your firm pillow, attempting to control your wondering thoughts; eventually, your breathing slows and your blush fades as you finally drift off.

#sdv harvey x reader #sdv harvey #stardew valley fanfic #stardew valley x reader #sdv harvey x you #sdv harvey x farmer #stardew harvey #stardew valley harvey #stardew valley #sdv x reader #sdv x farmer #sdv fanfic #sdv shane #sdv harvey x y/n #stardew valley shane

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steelsartcorner · 6 months

Text

Sketchbook: Is there even a ship name for this? I don’t know

Listen. Listen. I know this blog is heavily Astarion/my Durge because I love them so much but I also seriously love all the characters and I’m probably going to sink six months of my life doing every romance route possible

Was talking about this with the bestie and consider: two good-hearted, overstretched men who need a break from all the responsibilities they’ve put on themselves through circumstances outside their control

just sayin

also the game should have let me romance both of them, gods damn it all. Let me kiss them both simultaneously, I have two hands

#halsin #wyll ravengard #halsin silverbough #bg3 wyll #Halsin x Wyll #bg3 #time to go do my playthrough as Wyll and kiss kiss kiss #make those dreams a reality

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hopepetal · 1 year

Text

The Boob Window

@applestruda I SPEEDRAN this. you're welcome.

“I think we should all have boob windows.”

The statement caused Mumbo to spit out his drink, much to the amusement of Pearl and Impulse. Grian was too busy yelling at Scar, his face a bright pink from the man’s very forward words. All Scar did was lean back with a smug smile, crossing his arms in front of him.

“I’m just sayin’! It would be like… an emblem! A uniform, even! Whenever people saw a boob window, their mind would be all like ‘ah, yes, the boatem knights’.”

“Scar,” Pearl began, her laughter silent but causing her whole body to shake, “no one here wants a boob window other than you.”

“She’s right, you know,” Mumbo tacked on, “and besides, we don’t want boob windows to be the first thing people think of when they think of us.”

“Not everyone here is as well-endowed as you anyway,” Pearl continued, wiping away tears. “It would be a waste of time. And money.”

Scar frowned, dramatically pouting. “You guys are no fun. We could even have the team name be changed!”

Impulse scratched the back of his neck. “Do we even want to know?”

“Well, I’m curious.” Grian turned to look up at Scar. “What were you thinking?”

Scar grinned. “Oh, y’know… the B in Boatem could stand for boob window!” The exclamation drew groans from the rest of the knights.

“Yes, that’s all well and good, but what does the rest stand for?” Mumbo pressed, leaning forward and folding his hands together on the table.

Scar took a moment to think, before his eyes lit up. “Boob window, oob window, aoob window, toob window, eoob window, and moob window!”

Grian started cackling. “Scar!”

Pearl shook her head, still grinning. “Yeah… no.”

“Hmph. Well, maybe… ooh! Boob window… optional, although the emblem makes us a team!” Scar seemed particularly proud of that one, but Impulse shot him down.

“Too many words. Anything else you got in that brain of yours?”

“Of course my good man, of course! If that’s too many words, may I suggest… oatem?”

A resounding ‘no’ sounded out from the other knights. Scar slumped down, and for a moment all seemed lost. Then, with a gasp, he shot back up.

“Ooh! How about… Boob window on a tit extremely massive!”

Silence. Then everyone began to laugh again, even Mumbo joining in this time.

“You know,” Pearl said once the laughter had died down, “I don’t hate it.”

Scar cheered. “Does that mean you’ll consider the boob windows?”

“Absolutely not.”

#my writing #fluff #humor #goodtimeswithscar #gtws #pearlescentmoon #pearl #grian #mumbo jumbo #impulse #boatem knights au

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nyanashima · 1 year

Note

Bestie. I am GRABBING YOU BY THE SHOULDERS AND BEGGING FOR SMOOTH AND SWAUVE MC HCS WITH THE BROTHERS!!!

Thinking about how Mammon or Levi could be on their phone and walking, not paying attention to their surroundings and almost ram their head into a sign or something until MC COMES IN AND JUST. ARM AROUND THEIR WAIST PULLING THEM CLOSE WITH A CASUAL "You alright there, sweet boy?"

Sometimes MC is smooth on purpose, but sometimes... It is absolutely not intentional and they get ALLL the boys flustered. (That is including Luci, he is not immune to the MC's charms 💙)

How do react to the smoothness of MC? Do they totally 100% freak out? Or are they more of a subtle flustered with a small blush? 👀

STOP THIS IS SO CUTE!! i had so much fun thinking about this concept, they're all such dorks ❤️ sorry for the wait!! this is a little different from my usual stuff but i hope you enjoy ✨

The Brothers w/ a Smooth MC

Content warnings: none!

Lucifer

You didn’t do anything extravagant. Really, it was unsurprising, considering the nature of your relationship.

You simply texted him to ask if he had plans this evening.

Upon receiving “no” as a reply, you told him to be ready for 8:00— and that you’ll be taking him to dinner at Le Pluvier.

Lucifer stares down at his DDD, gloved hand over his mouth to hide his raging blush. You casually asserted yourself and left no room for argument. He’s done the same many, many times. So why is he so worked up?

Diavolo’s booming laugh snaps Lucifer out of his stupor. Beside him, Barbatos giggles behind his hand.

“This is the first I’ve seen you blush in quite some time, Lucifer. What did they say?”

Mammon

It’s an average day in the House of Lamentation— meaning Asmo’s screeching can be heard from down the hall.

Poking your head out your door, you can see Mammon making a mad dash towards you. Asmo appears from around the corner, slipper in hand. Even from a distance, it’s clear as day that he’s ready to kill.

He throws the slipper, but it narrowly misses Mammon’s head.

You tug Mammon into your room, and swiftly lock the door behind him.

“You alright there, pretty boy?”

He takes a moment to register what you said, then feels his face become engulfed by flame.

Internally, he’s caught between “Who ya callin’ pretty boy?” and “Whaddaya think yer doin’, sayin’ stuff like that?”

Instead, he stammers for a solid ten seconds.

“Ya better not go callin’ anyone else that, y’hear?”

Leviathan

You’re bored. You’re lonely. You’re tired.

The cure to these ailments lies in Levi’s room. More specifically, in watching him play his new puzzle game.

At this point, you don’t even knock; he wouldn’t hear you with his headphones on, so why bother?

You seem to step into the room just as he gets killed in-game, because he throws his head back in exasperation. He hasn’t noticed you yet.

You walk up behind him, and he jumps when your hand meets his back.

“This time for sure, sweetheart. You’ve got this.”

Levi freezes. Baby pink blooms to the tips of his ears. He buries his face in his hands and tries to stutter out something, anything. Congratulations, you’ve killed him.

“You-you can’t just s-say things like that…”

Satan

Your day has been, in a word, hectic. Between student council meetings, class, putting out fires and settling arguments, you haven’t been in one place for more than a few minutes.

You finally settle in the HOL library, hoping to get a few minutes to yourself. Or at the very least, a nice moment with Satan.

You receive the latter.

“MC, I haven’t seen you yet today. How’s the most beautiful person in the three realms doing?”

“I don’t know, how are you?”

Satan thinks he’s slick. He’s not.

He bluescreens.

You watch the gears turn as he mentally fumbles for words. It’s cute, really.

He chokes, and doesn’t even think to hide his blush. Tugging at his collar, he mumbles something resembling “I’m fine, thank you.”

From here on, he takes it upon himself to fluster you just as much.

Asmodeus

You and Asmo are sat on his bed for his weekly spa day. He’s chatting away, recounting gossip from all ends of the Devildom. While it is interesting, his eyes are what really grab your attention.

You find yourself lost in them. They remind you of something, but you can’t quite place what… It’s on the tip of your tongue, when-

“MC, are you even—”

Asmo realizes what’s happening, and can’t suppress a giggle.

“Like what you see, MC?”

Then it hits you.

“Topaz.” At this, Asmo quirks an eyebrow.

“...Hm?”

“That’s what your eyes remind me of. Topaz.”

Asmo’s breath hitches, and he beams. He throws his arms around you, peppering your face with kisses.

“Oh, you scoundrel~! Who taught you to say sweet things like that? You better be careful, or I’ll fall for you all over again~! ❤️”

Beelzebub

It’s been a long night, and you had too much caffeine, much too late. So naturally, you find yourself wandering to the kitchen.

The dim fridge light peeks around the corner, giving away Beel’s presence.

The ginger must have heard your footsteps, because he smiles brightly as soon as you poke your head through the doorway. It’s a gesture you gladly return.

“Hiya, handsome. Can’t sleep?”

His expression falters, mouth forming a small “o” as his cheeks flush. After a moment, he smiles again, albeit more sheepishly than before. His hand moves to scratch at his jaw, and his eyes dart from the floor back up to you. His voice is small when he replies.

“You think I’m handsome?”

Belphegor

The Devildom sky is truly unlike anything you’ve ever seen.

The view from this mountain is breathtaking. After an agonizing hike, you and Belphie settle in the grass at the highest point you can reach.

The stars glitter above you, and for once, all is peaceful. No screeching brothers, or smashing vases, or running down the hall to flee from a punishment. It’s just you, Belphegor, and the sky.

In the quiet tranquility, minutes turn to hours. All talk slows and eventually ceases as the both of you grow drowsy. And, after an impressively long period of time, Belphie inevitably falls asleep.

Checking your phone, you realize it’s time to head back. You shake your companion awake and laugh softly when he glares at you.

“C’mon, sleeping beauty. It’s time to go home.”

Belphegor stands up and wordlessly cracks his joints, pretending he didn’t hear your little nickname.

He’s silently grateful there’s no light to betray his blush.

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em-writes-stuff-sometimes · 2 years

Text

How to Write Medieval Smut - A Guide to Insanity

Well, hello. You’re here for that very important reason, aren’t you? You got a hankerin’ for some dude in a tunic and breeches or a lady in a sexy-ass gown, sayin’ some old-timey stuff in a swag accent. They make you feel things. You wanna do things with them. You wanna write about doing things with them. But how to go about it?

Please keep in mind I was asked if I could share some tips; I’m not a writer by any means, but I AM a fanfiction addict, so I like to think I’ve picked up on some important stuff over my years as a horny reader. Without further ado, let me just - well. Get into the nitty-gritty.

1. THE BASICS

If you are going to write anything, you need to consider some key things. Firstly, are you confident in your punctuation? This is one of the biggest elements to readability, and English is one of those languages that totally sucks when it comes to the rules of properly punctuating sentences. And even then, in narrative writing, you CAN play fast-and-loose with the rules; but the key is to know when to do that.

We can’t cover everything here, of course, but I’ll just share one of the most important things when it comes to writing dialogue. You must always punctuate within the quotation mark. If someone is just saying something, it’ll look like this:

“They’re over there,” he said.

We use the comma (,) to join these two clauses together. This is because ‘he said’ is NOT a complete sentence by itself - it needs the previous clause, ‘They’re over there’, to make sense. If you have someone exclaiming or asking, you do exactly the same thing as above, just switch out the punctuation mark:

“They’re over there?” he asked.

“They’re over there!” he exclaimed.

Even though we traditionally understand that (!) or (?) ENDS a sentence, it functions differently inside a quotation mark. That is why the next phrase ‘he exclaimed’ does not start with a capital ‘H’. I admit I am guilty of forgetting this rule at times!

If you are unsure of your punctuation, see if you can find a beta - someone with a little more confidence in writing who can pick up those little mistakes and correct your grammar. Hell, hit me up here if you want - I’m a demon with the grammar, and I’m always down for it. Just know I’m quite merciless with the edits, haha!

2. WORDS TO AVOID IN MEDIEVAL SMUT

If you’re writing medieval smut, you have to think about the types of words that might not be used in old-fashioned time periods. One of the quickest ways to jolt someone out of the immersion in your story is to start using commonly-accepted euphemisms for acts or parts from today’s world. SOME words are from the approximate time period, e.g. clitoris, but aren’t traditionally used in medieval entertainment. Here’s some of the words I can think of that you shouldn’t use (bold), as well as some suggestions for what you can replace it with (= italics):

Clit, clitoris = pearl, bud

Dick, penis = cock, length, member

Balls, testicles, sac/k (only use this one in conjunction with one of the latter list) = stones, jewels, pouch

Boobs, titties, boobies, badonkadonks = bosom, breasts (polite), tits (vulgar)

Vagina, vag, pussy, vulva = cunt (vulgar), cunny (a little less vulgar), entrance, core, womanhood, mound (for vulva)

Asshole, anus = arsehole (English sp.), hole (personally hate it but appropriate)

Butt, buttcheeks, bum = arse, rear, backside, bottom

I’ve actually researched the above and these are all era-appropriate! When in doubt, consult a thesaurus or dictionary to determine time period of origin! Also, might be worth adding this little addendum below - appropriate names for ‘slutty’ or ‘skanky’ characters.

Ho, skank, slag = slut (only as ‘slut’, if you want ‘slutty’, use ‘sluttish’ instead), tart, trollop, hussy, whore

Hope this helps!

3. DESCRIPTION

Don’t be afraid to describe beyond actions - so much smut has the bare minimum ‘he sticks his peen in, in-out-in-out, nut, goodnight’. Describe the experience - what does something look like? Feel like? Taste like? Don’t be afraid to get weird with it. For example:

While your husband takes his respite, you look inquisitively down at his softening length – your dealings with this part of him only ever feature him firm and forbidding, a lance with which to impale your depths with raw impunity. Even lying sated against the sac of his stones, its dimensions are considerable, and you do not think even in its current size that it would be effortless to take within you. A fleshy fold of tissue has extended itself over the purpled head, no doubt protecting it from injury in its unused form.

Basically, this is an extended piece about what a soft dick might look like, lol, including some foreskin action. Try where you can to reference body parts like this euphemistically - especially if writing as a highborn individual. They won’t know terms like ‘foreskin’, because it’d be considered impolite and vulgar.

My absolute number one tip is to use a thesaurus - try to find ‘smart’ ways of phrasing what you want to say. When I’m writing conversationally, I sound like a literal child or a moron (or both, honestly); but the bit in bold above is ALSO me, written specifically for the purpose of narrative. People in past eras spoke differently, and they likely would have had a wordier internal dialogue. Don’t be afraid to shy away from that. But please - PLEASE - cross-reference your chosen word to make sure you’re understanding it’s meaning, as I’ve seen all too many times someone using a word that must have had a similar meaning to their original word, but the translation over does NOT work.

This is all I can think of for right now. Anon, I hope this works for you. Thanks to anyone who bothered reading this, haha! My final piece of advice - read the writing of other people. Pick it apart, and figure out how to emulate that style if that’s what you like. Human beings learn best by imitating others; it’s how we learn to speak as babies, and move around, and interact with people. If we can do all that, then by GODS we can write detailed smut, haha!

Good luck!

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gaybananabread · 4 months

Note

Striker from helluva boss secretly super ticklish 😜

⌖🐎Striker Tkl Headcanons🥃

~Ooooh absolutely! I love it when the strong, stoic character is a walking tickle-spot. Totally not using this as an excuse to torment the cowboy whaaaaat (* °ヮ° *). No but I’ve been wanting to write more for HB, so maybe this’ll be my gateway excuse. I promise I’m working on stuff, I’m just slow. Thanks for the request!~

General:

On the surface, seems to hate tickling

Changes the subject, brushes off questions, rattles his tail when people get too pushy with things.

You wear him down enough, though, and you’ll see. Wide smiles, small blushes and a flicking tail.

He’s more of a ler than anything, though there is the off chance he’ll get a lee mood.

Considering this, we’ll say heavy ler-leaning switch.

Lee:

Rarer than anything, but he does occasionally crave a good wrecking.

He’s in massive denial the entire time, refusing to admit it to himself, much less ask someone

If anyone does notice, he’ll blush and start making death threats. Get ready for a chase (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)

MASSIVE thrasher. If you don’t pin/restrain him, he’s probably gonna end up breaking your nose.

His tail will flick around wildly, rattling the entire time. You wanna fluster him, that’s as good a thing to point out as any.

Worst spots are the backs of his ribs and tail, specifically the flat end of it. Hysterical, cackling shrieks if you nail him in either of those spots.

Melt spots are his arms/forearms. He loves gentle traces along them, maybe some compliments on his strength while you’re at it.

He cannot handle teases. You call him cute? Sputtering, blushing mess of curses. He’ll vow to kill your family while laughing and giggling like a toddler.

Just be careful. He recovers pretty quickly, and you know he’ll be out for revenge~ (•̀⩊•́)

Ler:

Run for your life, my friends (ᵕ—ᴗ—)

Rough, ruthless ler. Likes to leave his lee a teary, incoherent puddle when he’s done.

SO SO MEAN and teasy. Will use anything at his disposal to fluster the hell out of you.

“Yer tellin’ me that just a few pokes makes you laugh this hard? That’s adorable, darlin’~”

“What? Oh, that word makes it worse? Sayin’ tickle makes it all tickle even more? That’s adorable~”

“That really tickles, don’t it? My claws diggin’ into your worst spot, and you can’t do a damn thing to stop me~”

He doesn’t like to stop the first time you tell him to.

If you seriously can’t take it anymore, he’ll stop. Other than that, good luck breathing.

Takes any and every opportunity to wreck a bitch. Stiff interrogation? You bet. Someone he’s close to being annoying? They’d better have good lung capacities.

If you’re comfortable with it, he’s absolutely willing to use his rope skills. Only if the lee is 100% okay with it, though. He respects consent, in that case.

Uses his tail to help him out. The tip is awfully pokey and would be great as a tickle tool.

When he does decide to stop, he’s not super good at aftercare. He’ll definitely bring you some water, but doesn’t do much else.

If you ask, though, he gives a wonderful back rub. Maybe even some extra attention if you’re really insistent with it.

#helluva boss tickle #lee!striker #ler!striker #switch!striker #ticklish!striker #sfw tickling community #tickle #sfw tickle headcanons #tickle thoughts #hb tickle #helluva tickle #hb striker

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plothooksinc · 8 months

Note

As promised, I have arrived with a prompt for NRFTW extra-content. I would loooooove to see the Hamato family come over to meet April's parents over dinner. 👀😎

this was less written and more 'the characters stuffed the author in the trunk and drove the plot themselves, but at least they gave the author popcorn'

WARNING: THIS IS A 30 PAGE STORY, IT IS THE UNDERDARK OF FAMILY DINNERS--

“Okay, so remember what I said about Raph.”

“He’s big. Don’t stare.”

“Great. I mean yeah, he’s huge, but he’s a big softie—”

“I get it. Stop being so worried.”

“Oh, and keep the gravy separate—”

“I got it!”

“—for Donnie, he has—”

“April.”

“...sensory issues?”

“So does your dad. Business as usual. You remember we’ve had this conversation three times already, right?”

“Sorry, mom. I’m just, uh…”

“You’re sitting down with friends you’ve known for years, not going to prom with a flock of mean girls. Stop pacing, for Pete’s sake. Look, get the potatoes out of the oven for me.”

“You got it.”

“How is… Leo? Is it Leo?”

“Yeah. He’s coming. AOPBA.”

“I have no clue what that means.”

“He has over-protective brothers.”

“Well, great, two birds with one stone. Go make up the couch so I don’t have to look at your face. Green is a better look on your turtle friends, baby, just sayin’.”

“Thanks so much.”

---------

There was really no good reason to be nervous. Donnie had already met her parents in less than stellar circumstances, and it had put Mom in a good mood for the rest of the evening. The ice had been broken; the guys had wanted to meet her family for ages, and she knew now it would be okay.

It didn’t stop the low level jitters as April padded the couch out generously with pillows and a comforter or two. It was like elation and terror had decided to go clubbing together somewhere in her rib cage. In the end, it came down to this being new. Something life-changing. The status quo forever being overturned. It was a good thing.

(It was damn terrifying, was what it was.)

The living room floor was generously covered in rugs and loose carpeting—both new and borrowed—because they weren’t made of money and the floor was still in the process of being repaired. Her dad had made fretful noises about inviting guests over in such conditions, and it was Carol that had reminded him, dryly, that “Honey, those kids live in a sewer. I don’t think they’re gonna judge us.”

“They live in an old subway station now,” April had said helpfully, and August had perked up with some interest and asked about logistical details, because her dad was a nerd like that and enjoyed his boats and trains, and his nerves about the floor were long forgotten. Nobody mentioned the fact that the guys already knew her apartment had been half destroyed in the little Krang’s attack. It was a fact that, by unspoken agreement, they had all decided to sweep under the rug.

Literally.

Hah.

Anyway, given Carol had slung a whole bunch of rapid-fire questions her way about the boys’ dietary requirements and August was fretting about being judged, April was reasonably sure her parents had come to terms with the fact her four best friends were giant walking turtles with comparative ease. It probably helped they’d been thrown into the deep end of things, even if it had led to super uncomfortable conversations and her parents staring at her as if they were expecting her to don a cape and go fight crime or some dumb stunt. It probably also helped that they knew Donnie and Mikey had come to bail her out, and that they were literally, y’know, responsible for saving the city.

Most of April’s nerves weren’t about the turtle aspect. It was whether her two families would like each other. Which was hilariously one of the most mundane things to worry about, considering literally everything else.

Story of her life, honestly.

She’d just finished squishing a pile of pillows into the corner of the couch when she heard her phone buzz, and fished it out.

Donnie: >> We’re here. Wardrobe check? Puppy eyes face.

Dumbonardo: >> Donnie has no class. 🥺

Donnie: >> Leo has no brain, but you already knew this.

She snorted. Then April glanced toward the kitchen to make sure Carol was busy with the oven and sidled toward the front door, slipping through as quietly as she could.

They were waiting there for her in the hallway. Splinter stood slightly apart from the boys, arms folded and looking sulky, but his fur was neatly washed and combed through and he was wearing a nice shirt which… was more flattering than some things she’d seen on him. April could be that generous. Donnie was wearing his sweater vest combo and standing ramrod straight like someone was about to push him onto a stage—no surprise there—and Mikey was wearing some nice slacks and an orange turtle-neck and beaming widely, carrying a casserole dish.

“Hiii, April,” he whispered. “We clean up good, right?”

“Puttin’ the rest of us to shame, Mikey,” she said with a grin, and gave him a fist bump.

“Speak for yourself,” Leo said lazily, draped over Raph’s shoulder like a blue and green fur stole. He was wearing one of his over-large hoodies; comfort over style, and April was relieved, to be honest. “I think Raph gives him a run for his money.”

April turned to take him in, and-- “Damn, son.” She gave a low whistle at Raph’s white suit and pink shirt, hanging on him pretty stylishly for all that his spikes had already done a number on his elbows. “You go shopping for that? Tell me you didn’t just have that hidden in your room this whole time.”

Raph preened a little before glancing down at the carpeted floor, pushing his fingers together bashfully. “We had to find something nice for Casey to wear anyway, so Raph thought—”

“Raph thought right.” April gave him a double thumbs up. And then frowned. She couldn’t see the last invited guest. “Is he not here?”

“Oh, he’s here,” Leo said quietly, a small helpless smile on his face. “He’s just shy.”

And Raph and Donnie separated so she could peer down the hallway; at Casey, who was literally lurking in the gloomy corner by the entrance to the stairwell, hunched as if trying to make himself small.

April frowned.

“Be nice, April,” Mikey whispered. “He’s, uh…”

“I get it.”

April made her way past them all, coming to a stop in front of Casey. He cleaned up pretty nicely, actually; she wasn’t sure who’d dressed him, but dress jeans and a nice jacket over a dark T-shirt nearly made him look like a different person. His hair was tamed and in a neat braid, and he looked up and gave her the shyest of smiles. “Hi, April. Sorry, uh…”

“Not used to the idea of family dinner?”

“Not really a thing where I come from, no.” He ran a hand through his hair, causing some of the strands to come loose, and she hid a grin. “But it’s not that. Um… are you sure I’m... welcome? I’m not really—”

“You think these guys would take you for a fashion montage if you weren’t?” she said drily. “Mom and Dad know you’re coming, trust me. They’ve made some simpler food just to make sure you can stomach it okay, and they’re looking forward to meeting all of this extended family. Which you are a part of.”

“Tooold youuu,” Leo sing-songed down the hall.

“Shut it, Nardo.”

“You can’t talk to me like that, I’m walking wounded—”

“Who’s walking?”

There was some general cackling. Casey’s next smile was more relaxed, and he let April tug him back down the hallway.

...and then they all jumped as the door to April’s apartment was flung open suddenly and her mother leaned casually in the open frame, tugging her oven mitts off, meeting their deer-in-headlights stares with a wry look of her own.

“Hi—um, that—um--” Donnie pushed forward and saluted her mother, and April clapped a hand over her mouth to stop the laugh. “Hello, Mrs O’Neil! As you can see, I am a sweater vest—I mean—”

Leo made a strangled sound and flopped limply over Raph’s shoulder; he’d have slid down if Raph hadn’t reached out to steady him with a tired move that said he was very used to this happening. “Oh pizza supreme, don’t make me laugh, you know I’m fragile—”

Mikey slapped a hand over Leo’s mouth, smile bright and eyes a little too wide. “Hi, Mrs O’Neil!” he chirped. “It’s nice to meet you, we brought casserole!”

Said casserole was snatched out of his hands a moment later by Splinter, coughing dramatically before he gave a dramatic bow that meant he was mostly addressing Carol’s knees. “I brought casserole, in fact! It’s my traditional green bean casserole, handed down through generations, made for one of my biggest fans!”

Carol raised an eyebrow.

“Dad, we talked about this,” Donnie muttered.

“No, you talked about this,” Splinter huffed. “I was going to come dressed in style, until you rudely tackled me to the ground and took my clothes.”

Carol’s raised eyebrow took on a level of alarm, and April sidled up to her mother with a quick hiss. “It’s not as bad as it sounds.”

“No, we did in fact do that,” Donnie said flatly. “Trust me, it was necessary.”

“...okay, it is as bad as it sounds—”

“My own sons,” Splinter grumbled. Then he straightened, beaming at Carol. “Children, am I right? Full of well-meaning hypocrisy. Sure, my son gets to dress as that hack Don Johnson, but when I try to dress as—”

“Yeah, Raph still doesn’t know who that is.”

Splinter wilted. To April’s delight, Carol seemed to wilt right along with him. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“Well,” her mom said, dry as the desert. “If you’re done making us feel old as dirt, won’t you come in? Unless you want to spend the evening in my hallway doing more fashion checks. I could always bring you a mirror. But if you’ll take my word for it, I think you all look just fine.”

She stepped aside and they filed past, shuffling into the living room more bashfully than April had ever seen them, which was altogether kind of endearing. Carol paused long enough for April to close in with Casey still in hand, and gave him a warm smile that made him relax just a little more.

Then she hissed quietly to April, “Biggest fan?”

Eugh boy. “Yeah, you uh…” April trailed off, wondering if she could just deflect that question with a shrug as if to say she had no clue. But she knew Splinter; he would keep making comments, so better forewarned, right? “You know how you started watching Lou Jitsu movies with me? And, uh, how much you like them? To the point Dad threatened divorce if you mentioned Lou’s tight pants one more time?” Which was an empty threat, given Dad watched those movies almost as closely as her mom did, and April suspected it was for the same reasons. It had been a running joke for a while.

“Yes…?”

“Great! Get ready to be emotionally scarred.”

“...what?”

---------

They introduced themselves properly once they were all inside, and to her credit Carol was still smiling, even if April could see the faintly wild look in her eyes. At least she’d never told Splinter just how much her mom liked him-- enough to say she was a huge fan, nothing more.

“August will be here in a moment,” she said cheerfully. “He’s just finishing up with the roast, and then we’ll serve. You can call us Mr and Mrs O’Neil, or you can call us Carol and August. We don’t mind. It’s lovely to meet you at last. Donatello, your sweater vest looks great.”

Donnie jerked ramrod straight again, voice high-pitched. “Thank you!”

Bless her mom for throwing him a bone. April grinned. “So, this is Splinter, or Hamato Yoshi—”

“You can call me Lou,” Splinter said with a small bow, taking the casserole from his hands with his tail and depositing it onto the table with a flourish. April had never seen him like this. It was hilarious and painful, but the mortified looks on the guys’ faces made it worth it. (Casey just looked clueless. Lucky kid.)

“Nice to meet you, Lou,” Carol said, politely and as if April hadn’t upended her world not thirty seconds ago. Damn, but her mom was good. “And Donnie I’ve already met. Hmm, can I guess the others?”

“Oh, go ahead,” Leo said cheerfully, waving at her from his perch, and her smile softened considerably as she glanced up at him, taking in the curve of bandages just visible through the over-large neck of his hoodie.

“You would be Leo, then. You doing okay, sweetie?”

Leo blinked. “Uh… yes? I mean, of course! I mean—” He darted a look at April, eye ridges raised.

“She knows,” April assured him. “It’s okay.”

Leo grinned in response, letting himself flop loosely in Raph’s grip to finger gun with both hands, and April grinned as Raph obligingly kept hold of him and rolled his eyes. “I may be a little bruised, but I wouldn’t have missed this for the world. It’s nice to meet you, Mrs O! I also rock a mean sweater vest, but my brothers would only let me travel casual.”

“You’re lucky we let you come at all,” Donnie muttered.

“You’re just jealous because I, unlike some brothers I could mention, did not make my first impression in—”

Then he yelped as Splinter smacked him in the side of the head with his tail. A light smack, April noted with amusement, as Donnie flicked him from the other side. Clearly Leo was slowly losing all his coddling rights.

“Well, a little bruised or not, it’s nice to meet you too,” Carol said easily. “April did tell me you’ve been laid up until just recently, so we’ve made up the couch for you, okay? There’s no shame in tapping out early if you get tired.”

Leo blinked at her, looking taken aback. And then his answering smile was a faintly relieved, hesitant thing as he held out a hand for her to shake, voice small.

“Deal. Thanks, mom.”

You could have heard a pin drop.

“Mom?” Mikey said slyly.

Leo promptly went as red as his stripes and planted his face on Raph’s jacket. But he kept his hand out until Carol shook it—gently, holding back a laugh—and then went full limp noodle. “Case,” he whined. “Help me out here?”

Casey helpfully reached out to tug the hood over his head. Leo gave him a thumbs up.

April dissolved into cackling as Carol turned a carefully blank face on Raph. “April’s told me just enough about all of you, really. You must be Raph. And this sweet little man here must be Mikey?”

She was expecting a clap back from Mikey about being little, so April was very surprised when he just dimpled sweetly and gave her his best I-am-an-innocent-child impression. His cheeks were faintly flushed, and for the first time she wondered if she should be recording this for posterity. That was like… three blushes, so far.

“That’s right! Raph’s all gentle giant and I am just the sweetest little package, baby.”

“I’m sure,” Carol said, straight-faced. And then lastly she turned to Casey, and her smile was warm. “And you’re Casey Jones. Are you nervous?”

“A little,” he admitted, tugging at his braid but he smiled back. “But it’s so nice to meet you again. I mean—sorry, the first time, I’ve just heard a lot about you—”

April blinked, mouth open as she considered that particular insinuation. And wasn’t surprised when Leo’s head suddenly shot up, all sign of embarrassment gone and with a blinding smile. “Yeah, I gotta say April has told us so much about you guys that it does kind of feel like we’ve met you already!”

“Well, then,” Carol said lightly. “You’ll have to tell me all about yourselves to make us even. April’s told us a little this week, but it seems we might have years to catch up on.”

“We would be more than happy to regale you with tales of our exploits,” Splinter beamed back. “And in turn perhaps you could tell me your—”

“And we should all sit down because Dad’s probably almost done,” April said loudly. “Save the talking for after dinner! I’m starved.”

“I should help August bring the dishes out anyway.” Carol gave April a pointed look. “Hon? Would you give me a hand? The rest of you, table’s just through here…”

---------

“What do you mean that’s Lou Jitsu?” August hissed, handing April the cauliflower bake. “He’s a rat. Lou Jitsu isn’t a rat.”

“He is now, babe,” Carol said blandly.

“A rat with four turtle children?”

“And a human child.”

“How does that even—”

“Remember asking about the skeleton, sweet pea?”

“...okay, fine,” he muttered, nose wrinkling. “I’ll be good.”

April eyed them both. “Look at it this way, dad. The longstanding threat to your happy marriage has been removed.”

“April—”

“—O’Neil!”

She burst into giggles and skipped out of the kitchen, balancing the cauliflower and potatoes and the jug of gravy, and wasn’t surprised to find Mikey just outside the kitchen door, making grabby hands for her dishes. April cheerfully palmed them off and returned for more, grinning sunnily at the twin glares of her parents. “Anyway, Casey’s… uh, adopted? That’s the simplest way of explaining him.”

“Gotta admit, I wasn’t expecting the one I find the strangest to be a normal human boy,” Carol mused. She frowned. “Is he the one from the, uh. Future?”

“The future,” her dad repeated back mechanically.

“Shush, dear.”

“Yeah.” And April had both a burning curiosity of how Casey knew her mother in the future and a dread to find out, because she was pretty sure none of them got happy endings where Casey came from. “Best to leave that well alone. Too heavy for a dinner topic.”

“Right. Future discussions are off the table,” August said, with a weary tone that said sure, fine, this might as well happen. “The invasion too, obviously. Anything else we haven’t already covered?”

“No. But just so you know,” April said mildly, “Rats have excellent hearing.”

She nudged aside her suddenly frozen parents, scooped up the roast tray, and sailed back out to the table.

Mikey took that from her, too, apparently intent on setting the table with a certain amount of flare, and April let him, more than happy to watch him handling pans that he might have had difficulty holding a week ago. She knew his arms were still bandaged under the sweater-- and knew also why he was wearing an actual turtleneck, no pun intended. The scarring up to his chin was still fading, but they’d stopped hurting days ago, leaving him with full range of movement.

(“Unless I’m really tired,” he’d said, giving her jazz hands at their last movie night. “So I’m still being careful.”

“Yes,” Draxum had said flatly. “It’s amazing how fast one heals when one actually pays attention to a mystic’s expert advice.” Mikey had thrown a pillow at him, end of discussion.

...which reminded her--)

“Hey, Mikey. Barry knows he’s invited, right?”

That earned her a predictable snort from Leo, who had been settled into a chair by Raph. “I’m not sure Draxum does family dinners.”

“You’d be surprised,” Mikey muttered.

“What was that?”

“I said what a surprise.” He twirled the roast tray once and settled it down on the table with flare. “He’ll be here. Just in time for dessert, he said! He’s looking forward to it.”

“Uh huh.” Donnie eyed him. “You threatened him, didn’t you?”

“I would never.” Mikey waved a finger at them, planting his other hand on his hip. “I merely pointed out it would be sad if he wasn’t included in this family get-together, given he is now family, unless he wants to deny any such attachment, and shunning a family dinner isn’t the proper or the neighbourly thing to do—”

“Oh, my apologies. You emotionally blackmailed him.”

“That’s better.”

“Why dessert?” April wanted to know.

“He’s, uh…” Mikey trailed off. “Well, it. Takes a while to bake brownies.”

Raph squinted. “Draxum is baking. Brownies.”

They all paused to take in that mental image.

“Oh, that’s not going to be edible,” Donnie muttered. “The guy can make a sandwich. Barely.”

“He can make a mean gruel, though,” April said wryly. “I mean. Literally.”

“I left him a recipe!” Mikey defended, though the way his shoulders hunched told April it was more out of loyalty than any actual belief in Barry’s capabilities. She frowned.

“Shoulda just told him store bought was fine, Mikes. Then he’d be here for dinner.”

Mikey gasped theatrically. “First of all, how dare you.” Leo gave a snort at his little brother’s affront and reached out for the gravy boat, flinching back when Mikey slapped his hand away without even looking. “Second! He wanted to try. You don’t want to hurt the nice goat scientist’s feelings, do you?”

“You want an honest answer?” Leo muttered. Mikey yanked his hood violently down over his face.

“Letting him try is just fine,” Splinter said with great generosity, leaning back in his chair. He’d been sporting the same cheesy grin since April walked back in from the kitchen, and that promised to be entertaining. But later. “When he fails, we can point and laugh—”

The way Mikey just teleported right in there to tower over his dad was impressive, and April reached out automatically to grab the back of Splinter’s chair before he could tip it all the way backwards in sheer terror. “We are not doing that.”

“No, we are not,” Raph said comfortingly, hands up as it to forestall a tiny mystic warrior explosion. “I know some will hate to hear it, but Draxum really pulled through for us. We should support him! In his, uh… domestic endeavours.”

“And his mad science endeavours.”

“Donnie.”

“What? I have my interests.”

“I do hate to hear it,” Leo said slowly, and they all turned to look at him as he peered out from his hood like some evil alternate Kermit!Leo. “Buuut you know. There’s petty, and then there’s mean. If he’s trying to be nice, let him try.”

There was silence at the table for a second time.

Then Donnie stood and pointed dramatically. “Who are you and what have you done with our brother?”

“Wow, Leo, that’s very mature of you,” Raph said suspiciously.

“I know, right?” Mikey wiped away a fake tear. “He’s come so far.”

“I am the very model of maturely letting my grudges go,” Leo said, stifling a yawn. “And if he accidentally poisons us all, I can hold it over you for at least a month.”

Oh. That was more like it.

---------

It took her parents longer than strictly necessary to bring out the rest of the food, and April was pretty sure they’d just been schooling their expressions into the most poker-faced they could, mortified by the knowledge that Splinter had probably overheard every word-- and honestly, given that Splinter occasionally gave a small muffled snort into his hand and tried to look innocent every time his sons stared at him, Carol and August were. Probably still talking about him. She was kind of glad she couldn’t hear them. April shoved his chair with a foot as she sat down and levelled him with mock glare over the rim of her glasses.

“Be nice,” she whispered severely.

Splinter leaned towards her to whisper back. “April, such little faith. I am already having the time of my life at this dinner. Why would I do anything to spoil the mood? I know how to act around fans.”

“These aren’t just fans, these are my parents.”

“Well, I know how to act around parents, too,” he said, waggling his eyebrows and outright leering, oh god. “I was a teenager, once, and dating was—”

“Please stop talking,” she hissed.

Splinter gave her a wide and mischievous grin, and that’s when it occurred to her he was being a little shit on purpose. But his smile faded, and he folded his hands delicately on the table in front of him. “Trust me. I know this is important.”

She breathed out. Yeah, okay. She did, after all, trust him, and he had dressed nicely for dinner. If he was truly set on arriving dressed as his eighties-Lou-Jitsu persona, April was pretty sure the guys wouldn’t have been able to stop him.

“What’s important?” Mikey said from the other side of the table, and she glanced up to find the others looking at them with curiosity.

“Good table manners,” Splinter said mildly. “Which means you should all stop leaning on the tablecloth like that. Elbows off!”

They all immediately pulled back and sat primly at the table, looking various shades of guilty—except for Casey, who flinched back from the tablecloth as if it might bite him. Poor guy had no reference for things like this, did he?

“Surprised you know decent table manners,” Donnie muttered.

“If it is such a surprise to you, I have failed as a father and we shall practice them more often at home.”

“Don’t you—”

“Leo,” April interrupted, watching Leo list faintly to the side. “You’re hurt. Nobody’s gonna care if you keep leaning.”

“Thank you,” he said fervently, and promptly flopped forward again, just as the kitchen door swung open.

Oh, good. Her parents had gotten over their crisis and were ready to feed the hungry. Carol hip-checked the door with her arms full of dishes and Mikey immediately jumped to his feet to help, and she shook her head at him, smiling gratefully. “I’m okay. But if you could help August with the glasses—”

“On it!” he said cheerfully and caught the door for her, holding it until she was clear before vanishing inside.

Carol smiled widely at the table and the guys smiled back, some smiles more natural than others—Donnie still looked like he was trying to get A Good Grade In Family Dinner—and she slid her burden of plates easily onto the table around the roast platter.

“Okay, so it’s a bit more buffet style than a usual roast dinner, but I thought that would be better, given I don’t know what you’d prefer. Casey, hon?” She favoured him with a warm look, and Casey straightened even more. “I’ve got both seasoned and steamed vegetables here, and a few alternatives in case the meat is too much for you to handle. The seasoned ones are on the spicy side. April tells me you’re still getting used to richer food?”

“Oh…” Casey blinked, darting a look at April that was both surprised and faintly grateful, and she huffed. She’d told him this already. Did he think she’d lied to him? “That’s—yes, that’s right, ma’am. I appreciate it, I’m sorry you had to go to so much effort—”

“None of that.” She handed him a plate. “This is a dinner for all of us. I’d feel like a lousy host if you couldn’t enjoy it. Pick and choose as you like, take it slowly. No one’s gonna judge. That includes the rest of you, just FYI.”

“No judgement!” Raph saluted, eyes darting to Donnie. “We appreciate it, Mrs O.”

“Thank you,” Donnie muttered quietly, eyes on the tablecloth.

“You’re very welcome.”

Mikey exited the kitchen with a tray of glasses and August trailed behind him with a collection of bottles-- soda and juice, and something that distinctly looked like the wine from the top of the fridge, and April squinted at it before raising an eyebrow at her dad.

“None for minors,” he whispered back. “Liquid courage.”

She snorted. “You’ll be fine.”

“But will your mom?”

“I heard that.” Carol snatched the wine away and deposited it by Splinter, whose eyes lit up. “Anyway. We’re sorry to keep you all waiting. Dig in! Don’t wait on us, there’s plenty for everyone.”

Leo put his hand up. “I admire your optimism, but I still vote Raph goes last. He’ll inhale everything here if he gets the chance—”

“Leo!” Raph sounded scandalised.

“What?” Donnie said, finally looking up with a more natural smirk on his face. “You know he’s right.”

“There’s a lot of me!” The poor guy was going as red as his mask, and April hid a grin. “You know Raph’s still a growing boy!”

“Raph can have as much food as he likes,” Carol said firmly, reaching up to pat him on the shoulder. God, April loved her mom so much. She was just rolling with this table of lunatics. “I honestly wasn’t sure how much to cook, so we’ve got plenty extra even if you do somehow inhale everything here. Just try not to inhale the dishes.”

“I would never,” Raph said, sounding horrified. “Turtle’s honour—”

April burst into giggles. “She’s joking, Raph, chill.”

“Oh.” Raph blinked. He met Carol’s gaze, who stared unflinchingly back and held up a hand.

Raph blinked again. Then he hesitantly gave her a high five, watched Carol’s smile grow, and finally grinned, the tension going right out of his shoulders.

April loved to see it.

“Aight, everyone,” she said, clapping her hands. “No more picking on Raph unless you want me to poke fun at you fussy eaters to make it even. Dig in, and don’t you dare insult my mama’s cooking.”

“We would never!” came the chorus.

Yeah. This should’ve happened years ago.

---------

The meal passed with some minor chatter—mostly complimenting the chef and asking for plates of food to be passed around. Mikey helped Casey pick out some simpler fare for his plate and he ate sparingly, but the expression on his face said he savoured every moment of it. Donnie was similarly picky for Donnie reasons, and looked faintly apologetic about the whole thing until April kicked him gently under the table and sent him a text.

April: >> Dad has sensory issues >> dw abt it

He relaxed a little after that, flashed her a small relieved smile, and even unwound from his stage fright enough to engage in conversation with her dad about the subway station and its abandoned trains. Mikey and Raph ate with their usual flare, though Mikey paused on each individual dish to gleefully exchange cooking tips with her mom. Splinter was surprisingly well-mannered, given April had seen him more than enough times with cake crumbs all throughout his fur.

Leo was being uncharacteristically picky, but he’d only come off a simple diet himself not so long ago, and the painkillers would be doing a number on his appetite. Raph and Donnie were both piling his favourites on his plate and he was clearly enjoying the food, but April had never seen him eating so slowly before, still balancing one arm on the table to support himself. Poor guy.

She wasn’t the only one to notice. Carol watched him waver and frowned. “You doing okay, Leo?”

He promptly flashed a peace sign at her, beaming. “Oh, for sure! I’m just a little low on energy. Kinda want a little bit of everything here, but—“

“Spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak?”

“Hah…” His grin became rueful, and he lowered the fork to his plate. “Not weak enough to stop me eating your delicious food! Tragically, I have no devoted servant to feed me lovingly by hand, so I’ll make do.”

“Um—”

“That was absolutely a joke, Case, don’t you dare.”

April grinned at Casey as he wilted back into his own seat. But okay, yeah, she could read the signs—from Leo’s slouch, growing worse by the minute, and the glances from his brothers that probably weren’t as surreptitious as they hoped. April nudged her mother quietly and made a meaningful gesture toward the living room, and Carol gave her a thumbs up and kept smiling pleasantly as if nothing had happened. “Well, I’m glad my delicious food has such a draw to it. I heard Barry is gracing us with a visit and dessert, is that right?”

Donnie visibly shuddered, but Mikey beamed as if she’d complimented his six year old son’s bronze swimming medal. “Yeah! He’s making brownies! He assures me they’ll be edible.”

“Consider me assured,” Carol said dryly. “I must say I’ve never tried Barry’s cooking before this in any form. We invited him for dinner a few times but he always refused. I guess I know why, now.”

Splinter peered at her. “You do?”

“Well, uh…” She looked sheepish. “I never really saw him out of his robe. He seemed like such a shut-in at the time, but… I guess dressing for dinner might have given away a few things.”

“Ah yes, that sounds like Draxum,” Splinter muttered. “Shut-in, barely bothers dressing—”

“Sounds like someone else we know,” Leo said sweetly, and Splinter choked.

“Leo defended Barry,” Mikey whispered in awe, and Leo pointed his fork at him.

“Leo saw low hanging fruit and went for it,” he corrected. “Besides, something about houses and stones? Isn’t that how it goes? Don’t throw glass at a stone house, it’s pointless and makes a mess?”

“Nardo, that is not how it goes and you know it--”

Carol coughed politely. “If you’re done being mean to your elders…” They all shut up and tried to look innocent—save Splinter, who merely stared back at his sons mournfully as if he could not believe the wrong they’d done him. “It seems there might be a pause between dinner and dessert, so I was going to suggest you kids go pile up in the living room after and go through our movie collection. August and I can continue to pick on your dad in your absence.”

“You can?” Splinter said warily.

“In a manner of speaking.” Her smile was warm, and maybe only April saw the sharpness around its edges this time, and she swallowed. But… again, she knew this was coming, too. “A parent to parent talk, as it were. Nothing too serious, I promise.”

And it gave them a good reason to transfer Leo to the couch without him feeling like he was ruining anything. April grinned to see his eyes light up at the idea.

“Oh, are you roasting our dad, too? That seems so fitting given the spread—”

“I dunno, Leo, a roast followed by a roast seems a bit overkill,” Mikey said thoughtfully.

“There’s no such thing as too much delicious roast.” Leo leaned forward. Which also had the effect that he could support his weight entirely on the table, April noted. “We’d be more than happy to clear out of your amazing hair until the totally safe brownies arrive.”

Carol transferred her smile back to him, the sharpness gone. “You can take your plate with you, if you like. I don’t want you to feel you have to rush through eating. April, could you find him one of our TV trays?”

“I’m sure that’s doable.” Actually, at this point she had no idea if those had survived the home invasion, but there was one way to find out. “Is everyone else done? I could help clear the plates—”

“No, that’s fine, hon. Your dad and I will clear the table.” Carol gave her a peck on the cheek and a small, meaningful squeeze to her shoulder. “You stay with your friends. August?”

August blinked up at her, startled, half a potato still speared on his fork. “Oh, now? But I just-- okay.” And he shoved the potato into his mouth, fork and all, to gather up empty dishes.

Leo watched him do it, and smiled lazily.

Then there was a sudden quiet after both of them vanished into the kitchen, and he slumped forward.

“That was… an attempt at subtlety, right?”

April grinned. “Dad doesn’t do subtle too well, that’s for sure. But they’re parents, Leo. They’re just worried about you.”

“They only just met me,” he grumbled, resting his head on his arm. “They’re really nice, but—”

“My mom probably decided you were adoptable at about the point Donnie made high-pitched noises in her general direction, my guy. Just accept her concern and move on.”

“Oh. So good to know my humiliation had some kind of strategic effect,” Donnie muttered, reaching across the table to snag Leo’s plate. “You want any more while we’re here?”

“...I’m fine.”

“Well, Raph wouldn’t mind a bit more beef,” Raph said comfortably, sharing a glance with Casey over his head. “And some potatoes! We can just use Leo’s plate for that.”

“Blue?” Splinter was quiet and out of his chair, patting his knee, and Leo lifted his head to peer at him. “You are okay, aren’t you?”

“Man, all this fuss.” Leo grinned faintly. “I promise I’m fine--”

Mikey loomed on his other side, not saying a word.

“—okay, maaaybe I wasn’t quite ready for sitting upright at a table for so long.” He made a face. “But I refuse to be banned from the O’Neil family dinner! You know how long we’ve waited for this—”

“Well, congrats, achievement unlocked,” April said, holding out her fist, and he obligingly bumped it with his own. “Now go curl up on our couch and quit your whining.”

“I wasn’t whining!”

Donnie raised an eyebrow. “He whined, whiningly.”

“Raaaph, they’re picking on me!” Leo whined.

Raph raised an eyebrow. “You wanna complain about it some more or do you want the comfy couch?”

“...couch, please.”

---------

Splinter stayed at the table, waving them off dramatically with a napkin, but the smile he gave April as she left was reassuring. It settled her nerves a little—she wasn’t stupid, she knew what was coming—and so she trailed after Raph as he carted Leo into the living room and settled him on the couch, burying him in comforters.

The sigh of relief Leo made as he sank into the cushions was more than enough to convince her that the move was well timed. “Heaven. I think everyone at family dinners should laze on a couch, honestly.”

“We’d need more couches for that.”

“That could be arranged,” Donnie said, passing a bottle to Casey and then… dropping to his hands and knees to investigate the carpet. What. April folded her arms and watched him.

“I think they’d need more room for the couches,” Casey said, opening the bottle—and oh, those were Leo’s painkillers.

“That could also be—”

“Donnie.” She scowled at him. “What are you doing?”

“Checking the damage,” he said absently, finally finding the edge of the carpet section and peeling it back, scowling at the torn up flooring beneath. “Huh. Bishop really refused to help pay for this?”

“Yeah, well. Bishop also didn’t arrest me for, I dunno, cavorting with evil yokai or whatever, so. I’ll take it.”

“This balance doesn’t add up,” Leo said mildly, taking his pills from Casey and his glass of juice. “Mr Edgelord also put you in danger in the first place. And your parents. Who we are adopting, by the way.”

“I don’t think it works that way—”

“It does, I don’t make the rules. Donnie, verdict?”

“Huh?” Donnie peered up at him. “Oh yeah, yeah, I guess we can adopt.”

“I meant the floor. But okay! Duly noted.”

Mikey started cackling as April threw her hands up and went on a hunt for the TV trays. Donnie blinked at Leo for a moment, then turned back to run his hands over the damage, flicking his goggles down. “I’m not much of a handyman type, but it looks like the structural integrity is intact. It’s just cosmetic and not particularly safe to walk on in the dark. Though that… is an understatement. The Krang did this?”

“Barry did, actually.” The TV trays had survived after all. April fished one out from its hiding place and passed it over to Raph. “But if he hadn’t, I’d probably be kind of torn to pieces, so--” She broke off to smile softly at Raph as he full-body flinched, and then stumbled as Mikey latched onto her like a koala. “Sorry. Anyway, I figure I’d give him a pass on that one.”

Leo slow blinked at her, resting his chin on the back of the couch, and his smile was an oddly cold one. “Yeah. Seems fair. Donnie, you still got a back door into Bishop’s stuff and things?”

Donnie hadn’t looked up, and his voice was very flat. “First of all, stuff and things is like literally the lamest way you could explain a black ops infrastructure, and second of all, why is it you just assume I would still be in his systems now that we’re—”

“Dee.”

“He’s upgraded his security in the past week. I’m doing the digital equivalent of eating popcorn and sidestepping his laughable experts.”

“Good to know. I s’pose getting on his nerves wouldn’t be the smart thing to do right now.”

“It is the opposite of smart. But the EPF is already footing the bill for the O’Neil hotel stay, I don’t see why they can’t shell out for the floor as well.” Donnie finally sat up, flicking his goggles back, and frowned at the scratched walls. “New paint job all round, actually.”

Leo nodded in satisfaction and settled into his nest of comforters, taking the tray from Raph who was surprisingly… not seeming even slightly upset about the whole idea of stealing money from a bunch of amoral secret agents.

April opened her mouth and shut it. “Uh—”

Donnie finally smiled at her. “Don’t worry about it.”

“But—”

“Seriously, he deserves it.”

“That’s not the part I’m worried about!” she snapped, and she waved an arm at Donnie as aggressively as she could with Mikey still limpet-clinging to her from behind. “You guys are on thin ice with him as it is—”

“So?” Leo said, eyes drifting shut. “He’s also on thin ice with us.”

“April.” Donnie finally got to his feet to regard her intently, leaning on the edge of the couch and deftly avoiding Leo’s attempt to nudge him with a foot. “I see you’re worried, but please give me some credit for basic money laundering tactics. The man’s never going to notice where the money actually went, if he even notices it’s gone at all. He’s got bigger fish to fry and it’s not as if we took millions.”

“You know, it says a lot when you say ‘basic money laundering tactics’ and everyone just rolls with it,” she said wryly, but her hackles settled a little. Bishop did deserve a little payback. She just didn’t want them painting even more of a target on their backs. “Raph? You sure you’re okay with this?” He was quiet and looked a little troubled, so--

“Well, see, the thing you gotta remember is…” Raph paused, clasping his hands together in front of him for a moment, and then exhaled gustily.

“...Raph only got to hit him once.”

There was a brief pause.

Leo burst into laughter, then hissed an ow and sank out of sight onto the couch, which caused Raph to dive for him with a panicked look. April wasn’t particularly concerned, given she could see Donnie rolling his eyes. She huffed a faint laugh herself, finally relaxing, and was rewarded with a squeeze of her shoulders and a full hug from behind.

“He messes with family, we mess with him!” Mikey said cheerfully in her ear. “Just go with it, April. You know Donnie covers his tracks.”

“Hmm.” But she smiled anyway, reaching up to pat his head. “Okay. Not gonna complain, as long as I can find a way to explain to my parents. But seriously—don’t go getting arrested or dissected or whatever on my account.”

“Depends on if we get a sequel or not,” Leo wheezed from the couch, resurfacing as Raph helped him sit back up.

“You sure you’re okay?” Raph said, still fretting.

“Oh, peachy. I can’t believe you punched a government agent and I didn’t get to see it.”

“Skill issue,” Donnie said, sounding bored. “Don’t get kidnapped next time, idiot.”

“Wow, rude. Raph, throw a pillow at him for me.”

“Yeah, Raph’s not doing that. Eat your dinner.”

“Aw, c’mon--”

A cushion sailed across the room and clipped Donnie in the face, sending him reeling backward, and Mikey caught it on the rebound, hollering. “For Leo’s honour!”

“You got kidnapped too, you know—”

“For my honour! For everyone’s honour except yours!”

“GASP!”

And the room promptly descended into chaos, which honestly she’d been expecting sooner than this. April just grinned, clicking her phone camera on to record Mikey’s subsequent attempted pillow beat-down of a hissing Donatello. Raph alternated between snorted laughter, half-hearted attempts at lectures, and trying to keep Leo’s tray of food balanced while Leo picked roast potato daintily off the plate with his fingers like popcorn, observing the proceedings with glee. He caught April’s filming and nearly choked, before sinking back out of sight on the couch again with a wave of his greasy fingers as April giggled.

It took her a few moments to realise that Casey had vanished from the room.

---------

“They sound like they’re having fun,” Carol noted.

“They’re probably destroying your living room,” Splinter replied glumly, taking the glass of wine August offered him. “Boys.”

“I’m sorry. Have you seen our child?”

“...teenagers.”

“Better.” Carol grinned and offered her own glass for a toast. “Here’s to new friendships?”

“Very traditional!” But he beamed anyway, clinking against her glass and then August’s. “To new friends and old fans. Aaand awkward conversations.”

Ah. “Kind of obvious, isn’t it?”

“A little.” His smile faded, showing a seriousness that seemed somehow out of place. “But you are good parents and April thinks the world of you. If we did not have this conversation, I would be a little concerned.”

August took his seat again, sitting far more relaxed now that the kids had gone, and tapped the rim of his own glass. “Your boy, Leo. How did he get so hurt?”

Something flickered through Splinter’s eyes that she couldn’t quite catch, and he stared down at his wine, mouth twisting. “A very long story. All of my boys were hurt during the invasion, but Blue unfortunately took the brunt of it. I am as proud of them as I was terrified for them.” His voice was far too mild for that statement and all the depth it contained, and Carol bit her lip as he tossed half the glass back.

Then he beamed at them. “But that is not the question you really want to ask.”

No. No, it wasn’t.

Carol needed to know, but she wasn’t sure how to phrase it and found herself hesitating for other reasons besides—so she glanced to August, who had a knack for being terribly blunt at times. He gave her a brief nod, and put his glass down.

“How safe is our daughter?”

Straight to the point. Splinter took a smaller drink, and met his gaze.

“All things being equal, far safer than the average teenager.”

August frowned unhappily, and his voice was flat. “She was involved in an alien invasion. They came to our house. Her nose was broken—”

“Lou,” Carol said softly. “We’re just worried about her. Your boys weren’t just here for the invasion, they fought on the front line. And so did she. Didn’t she?”

“Your daughter,” Splinter said steadily, “Took out one of those aliens with a wrecking ball. She blinded it, one eye at a time.”

“Is that meant to make us feelbetter?” August demanded, and Splinter turned a sober gaze on him. “We know April can look after herself. She shouldn’t have to. How much danger is she in just by associating with your family?”

“August.” Her voice was sharper that time.

“I’m sorry,” her husband said more quietly. “I don’t mean it quite like that—they’re obviously good kids. You should know, the turtle and rat thing is… confusing, but in the end that isn’t what this is about.”

Splinter smiled a little. “What this is about is that you think my boys dragged April into their fight and made her a target. Has April ever told you how long she has known them for?”

August paused, but it was only to calculate the passage of time. They both knew when it was that April had come home talking about the boys she’d met on the roof. Six… seven years ago? Maybe eight? And...ah.

“This is the first time she’s been in trouble,” Carol said, feeling relieved. She understood. After all, holding an alien invasion against Splinter’s family would be extremely rude. April could have been hurt worse if she didn’t know such powerful people--

“Oh no,” Splinter said bluntly. “She’s definitely been in trouble before this.”

“...what?”

“Let’s see…” He sipped his wine. “She’s been captured by your upstairs neighbour at least twice by my count—”

“What.”

“Don’t make those faces, he was nice enough to let her go again. Then there was the fiasco with Big Mama and Shredder, the yokai train, tangling with the Foot clan and fighting at the stadium—”

August stood up. “I’m sorry, she was at the stadium? When that maniac was threatening to wipe out the human race!?”

Splinter raised an eyebrow. “You do know who that maniac was, don’t you?”

---------

April found Casey in her bedroom—or half in, half out, leaning out the window and breathing in the night air. She could hear sharp voices carry over from the kitchen window, and distorted with only a word here or there making it through, but she recognised her mother’s voice all right, shrill with stress, and winced. Splinter had said to trusthim. She was wondering if that had been a bad call.

She sat on the window ledge next to Casey, and he jumped, smacking his head on the window frame before ducking back inside. “Commander—I mean. April. Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“To get some space?” she asked dryly.

“Well…”

Casey rubbed his head for a moment with a wince, then pulled himself inside, and April listened briefly to the yelling before she decided to resist all temptation and closed the window. She didn’t want to hear it, really. It would just make her feel awful and she’d be hearing the fallout soon enough.

“I did come out for space, and to see where the rats, uh. Came in. Or tried to? I felt—felt like it should be looked at,” Casey said awkwardly. “The eavesdropping was unintentional.”

“I believe you,” April said easily. She did. He wasn’t the type—or at least, she didn’t think so. None of them knew him too well, yet. “All quiet on the rat front?”

“Oh, yeah. I mean… evil alien rats, anyway.” He smiled a little. “I think there’s some normal ones further down.”

“Guess we’ll have to live with that.”

They sat in silence for a moment, listening to the laughter coming from the living room. Her light was off, but there was enough coming in from outside that she could just catch Casey’s wistful look at the door, and April nudged him gently with a shoulder.

“You wanna go back out?”

“...in a minute. Just… getting my head in order.”

“Too busy? Too loud?” She hesitated. “Weird seeing more people you used to know?”

He jumped a little at that, turning to look at her in the gloom. “How did you—”

“Kind of obvious, Future Boy,” she said dryly. “’Nice to meet you again’?”

“Aheh.” He ducked his head. “Yeah, I guess I’m not so good on the spot. I was… trying to prepare myself for seeing them again, but it was so different once I did.”

“More of a shock than meeting those idiots again?” She gestured toward the living room.

“A little. The turtles—when they grow up, they’re a lot bigger. Sensei is so much taller! And Uncle Raph was huge.” He smiled, looking down at his hands. “And like-- you were an adult. Commander O’Neil. I knew what you would all look like from the photo, and it was kind of like… meeting you all for the first time, even though-- well. It’s complicated.”

He really wasn’t good at it, was he? Not giving things away. Sensei is taller. Raph was huge. It told her so much. It was painful, and a small part of her turned over in grief-- an empathetic grief for the kid next to her, a pang of knowing it could have been so much worse. She was so relieved she could hear Raph through the door. (...yelling “Not the gravy!” which, eugh boy, okay, she would pretend she didn’t hear that.)

Then it occurred to her what Casey was trying to say, and April froze. It didn’t mean anything. They’d avoided the whole apocalypse thing. But--

“My parents… they look the same to you?”

Casey shrugged. “Well, they’re already grown adults. They’re not gonna get another five feet taller or something weird.”

Oh. Oh, that was… she was an idiot. “Hah,” she said after a moment with a small laugh. “For a sec, I thought you meant they like... died young. Or—”

And she felt the silence change, in that dark room.

An idiot twice over—looking at the crystal stillness of Casey’s reaction to her opening her dumbass mouth, April curled up on the seat next to him and knew she’d basically tripped into a minefield. A personal one, because this wasn’t just people Casey had known and grieved.

They’re not dead. They were yelling at Splinter two rooms over, words echoing off the fire escape outside, and she tried to focus on the more rational dread that they were gonna try and stop her from seeing the guys. But…

...she couldn’t stop her stupid brain from picking over the what ifs.

Casey saved her the struggle, touching her arm gently in the dark. “Do you…” He swallowed and tried again. “You wanna hear about them? I’ve probably given you the wrong impression. Well… half of one.”

She found her voice, rough, and forced a smile. “Not if it’s gonna stress you out. Besides—” And this time she stopped herself in time, because saying it’s never gonna happen now, right? to someone who had lived those events was so cheap and awful. It had sure happened for Casey.

“I don’t mind,” he said. “Uh, if you want to know… it might. Actually help.”

Share the grief, huh. Let him not be alone with some of this.

April breathed out. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

---------

“Oh! And there was that one time when she accidentally got a job with an evil ninja organisation, but now that I think about it that was sheer bad luck...”

Carol was getting a headache. She refilled her glass, trying to sort out whether she wanted to laugh or scream or just throw a wine bottle at Lou, which definitely hadn’t featured on her list of Ways To Impress Him before she realised he was now a mutated father of four turtle boys. August had left the room, but the door to the kitchen was open and so she knew he was still listening; he was going through the bottles on the fridge perhaps a touch more violently than he needed to.

“Lou,” she said wearily, pinching the bridge of her nose, “I don’t get you. I would have thought you’d be trying to show us how safe she was with you, not—”

“Not be honest?”

She startled, glancing up to find him watching her shrewdly, and the smile that tucked into the corner of his mouth was an amused one, which made her bristle. Splinter put down his empty glass—his second glass, and he was still very sober in a way she wished she was not—and leaned forward. “Sure! I could have said, ‘Mr and Mrs O’Neil! My boys lead very boring lives! The worst scrape they’ve ever been in was an unfortunate one involving a skateboard and a cat and one too many magnets, and this alien invasion was a complete anomaly! Of course it will never happen again!’ That certainly is one way to lie to your face. I can think of more subtle attempts, but—”

“So you’re making fun of us?” August’s voice wafted from the kitchen, curt, and there was the snap-fizz sound of a fresh can of something being opened. Lord, Carol hoped it was strong and her husband was about to share. “You’re treating this whole situation with such irreverence that—”

“August.” Her voice was too sharp, and she softened it before she continued. “He’s not making fun. Maybe he’s being a bit of an ass, but—”

“I’m being a whole ass, thank you very much,” Splinter said mildly, and she pointed at him, baring her teeth.

“You are not helping. Tell me why.”

He raised his eyebrows at her in genuine curiosity. “Why be honest? Seriously?”

Carol paused, retort dying on the tip of her tongue.

Because. Because while he was telling them in the most irreverent way, it was the truth. Their lives were crazy and chaotic, and he was saying to expect nothing less. That the insanity of their lives had reached out and snagged their daughter at an early age, that—that she’d already been a target before these aliens came along. That Barry wasn’t who he said he was, had been a danger well before this and she’d been trying to introduce him to a daughter he’d apparently already kidnapped twice by that point--

Wait. That didn’t make sense.

“Barry saved April from the zombies,” she said slowly. “And reunited us. Are you saying that’s an act?”

“Good grief, no.” He tapped his empty glass and made a mournful sound, and one ear twitched back. “Much as I hate to give him any credit, Draxum is a changed goat. There is much behind his early motivations that I enthusiastically suggest you ask him about, if for no other reason than that it would be funny! But he just needed to see the bigger picture—that not all humans seek the destruction of anything they don’t understand.” He raised his eyebrows. “I am not sure if he would have come to that conclusion so quickly if it were not for your daughter. She is absolutely his favourite human, you know.”

There was a soft click as August exited the kitchen, shutting the door softly behind him. He came bearing another two bottles of wine and an opened can of Twisted Tea. Carol smiled at him, and he smiled back tiredly, a smile that faded into seriousness as he looked at Splinter. “Do you trust him?”

“With everything but money and my dignity,” Splinter said at once. “He’s a jerk, but he’s our jerk, I suppose.”

“You could have led with that.”

“I could have,” he said agreeably. They waited for him to explain further.

He didn’t.

“Okay,” Carol said finally, accepting the can from her husband and nodding as he refilled glasses all round. “So, what? You gave us a litany of horrific danger that our daughter has been involved with because…”

“Because to lie would have been extremely disrespectful, and you both seem strong enough to take the truth—oh thank you—” To August as his glass was refilled, and he snatched it up. “Of course I do not want you to separate the children. But you are both her parents, and good people, and you deserve to know all the facts so you can make a decision without any of us pretending that anything about this is normal.”

“As if it were as easy as that,” August muttered. “She’s already eighteen.”

“Well, that’s a you problem, I’m afraid.” Splinter sipped his wine. “But I’ve told you all about the disaster situations our children like to land themselves in. That’s only the ones I know of, mind you.”

“That’s so much better, thank you.”

“You’re welcome!” He cackled, offering his glass up for a toast. Carol gave him one, half-heartedly, and he favoured her with a softer smile.

“Now, I have a question for you,” he said. “How often has she come home hurt? Upset? Scared?”

August went to retort and then paused, looking thoughtful. Carol glanced between them both and frowned, thinking back. April had been hurt before… there was a sprained ankle she knew had come from an accident at school. A few minor bruises from early scraps with that girl with the purple hair. Nothing she wouldn’t expect from an outspoken teenage girl who picked fights with bullies.

Nothing that had raised alarms, until now. Until April’s poor face, bruising turning her skin even darker, coated in dust with blood in her hair, because aliens had attacked them directly. Because Agent Bishop had set them up as bait, which was a fault that could be laid at his doorstep, not the Hamatos’.

It took an alien invasion.

“I cannot make promises about how safe she will be. How safe any of them will be.” Splinter spoke gently now, drawing circles around the rim of his glass with a claw. He glanced up to meet their gaze. “Chaos magnet teenagers, the lot of them. But I will tell you that she is their big sister, and they would never let anything happen to her. And I will protect my family with everything I have. All of them.” He paused, then flashed a small smile. “It turns out I don’t do too bad a job!”

“All things being equal, you said,” Carol murmured.

“Yes, well. One would hope we don’t have to deal with anything as ridiculous as alien invasions again.” Splinter made a face. “They’re so exhausting! Barring city-destroying events, I truly think your daughter is safer than the average teenage girl. And I swear, large amounts of time go past in which the most exciting thing to happen is we’re late returning a DVD to the store, or the pizza order is wrong.” He paused. “...actually, that second one is generally a cause for alarm—”

Carol snorted in amusement, and she was relieved to see a faint smile on August’s face as well. “So. Family, huh?”

“Er, well. I know she already has a father and all,” Splinter muttered. “Just think of me as, I don’t know, cool wine uncle Randall.”

“Randall?”

“Oh, and while you are considering what to do—” Splinter put his hands together. “Please take into account that we would miss her a great deal. But also, she is the intelligent one. I would appreciate it if you did not remove the brain cell from my boys…?”

Carol grinned outright. “I’m sorry, are you sure you know my daughter that well? Because—”

---------

Carol O’Neil died when Casey was seven.

“There weren’t a lot of kids on base,” he said. “I mean-- there were bunkers, and civilians and their families mostly hid there, all through the cave systems below us… but for kids whose parents were active soldiers and had no one else-- I think there was maybe four of us all up. My mom and yours knew each other pretty well. Mrs O’Neil gave her a lot of advice about kids. I mean, my mom was your age, so…” He paused, staring into the darkness for a long moment with a mild frown. “You guys were friends, too. A long time ago.”

“Your mom and me?” April asked tentatively.

“Yeah. So I got to see you guys a lot as a kid. You worked out in the field more with my mom, and you’d both come back after days on end and mom would demand reports from the playroom and you’d laugh at her.” He grinned at her in the gloom. “But I’d see Mrs O’Neil a lot more because she stayed at base. I think she did a lot of behind the scenes stuff—I was too young to really get it. But I know she looked after us, too, and made sure we ate and got clean and slept safely. Ran drills for us on what to do if we were attacked. Where to run, where to hide. That kinda thing.”

Wonderful way for a kid to grow up. She gave him a small smile. “Mom does like to boss people around. She’s real nice about it, though.”

“Yeah, she is. And she’s, uh. Fierce when threatened.”

And a mama bear through and through. The Krang tried to take out the base while diverting most of the resistance fighters to another location, and they had to run. And Carol had made them go first and put herself between a bunch of scared kids and a pack of Krang war dogs. Casey didn’t see it happen. But he heard it, on the other side of the heavy trap door, too small to really understand what was going on, huddling with three other kids in the corner of the tiny secret basement.

He spared April the details. Her imagination had no problem filling them in for him, and April curled her knees up to her chest, wishing she couldn’t see it so clearly. A sick feeling curled in her gut, and she tried to remind herself her parents were still two rooms over with Splinter, but--

“It was a bad day for… everyone,” he said slowly. “The Krang hit us hard on two fronts, and we lost a lot of people that day. Including—” He broke off, and winced. “Well. Sensei and Master Donatello were the ones that pulled the survivors out, and I don’t remember much following. But I know the base was trashed and we had to move. That… happened, sometimes. Less as time went on.”

So her mom was a casualty among… dozens? Hundreds? More? She had trouble wrapping her head around the numbers and, if she were being honest, April didn’t want to think too hard about it. It was awful enough as it was. There was an odd, terrible relief that her mom hadn’t been singled out somehow. Because she’d seen what the Krang liked to do when they hated someone personally.

It was still a horrible way to die.

(There were no good ways to die in an apocalypse, huh?)

“You okay?”

She blinked, and found Casey much closer than he’d been a moment ago, hovering in concern, and April unclenched her fingers from each other and gave him a wan smile. “Hey, I knew going in it wouldn’t be pretty. I’m more worried about you.”

“You don’t need to be,” he said softly. “This was a long time ago.”

“Time doesn’t magically make things better.”

“I guess not,” he murmured. “But I grew up with this story. This is the first time you’ve heard it.” And he sounded so apologetic about it that she patted his shoulder.

“S’okay, Future Boy. I appreciate knowing. My mom was a total badass to the end, right?”

His smile was hesitant, but there all the same. “Right.”

She took a breath. “So, in for a penny, blah blah blah. If you’re up for it…?”

“...yeah.”

“Dad… did he outlive Mom?”

“By a whole lot.” His smile faded. “I really didn’t know him much until after Mrs O’Neil passed. And then he was kind of everywhere. He threw himself right into intelligence support, and he was so good at it—his strength was logistics and efficiency of movement on a mass scale, and we were still struggling with organisation, so… he and Master Donatello worked together a lot. He wasn’t a fighter, your dad, not like your mom. But he knew his stuff, and I know a lot of his ideas helped keep our home safe and our supply lines going as long as possible. He worked way too much—you came to drag him back to his room so many times.”

Wow. Was it weird to feel proud of her future and now non-existent dad? She hoped he’d never have to go through something similar. August was generally a laid back, quieter guy who enjoyed his trains and ships as hobbies.

That he’d weaponised his knowledge was amazing, but also heartbreaking. April could read between the lines just fine—he buried himself in work because Mom was dead.

“I can’t tell you exactly how he...uh.” Casey bit his lip. “We were always kind of awkward around each other. I think because of Mrs O’Neil. So I kept my distance.”

April frowned. “He can’t possibly have blamed you kids for Mom’s death. I’ll kick his ass. I’ll march right into the kitchen now--”

That surprised a laugh out of him. “No! No, I don’t think he did. But… you know. She died, and we were there. I think… it was just a reminder. And every time I saw him, I’d remember her too, and it just—it was like this presence in the room, I guess. By the time both of us got around to being rational about it, things were just weird. And I wasn’t really a logistics guy and had other places to be, so… we just let things go.”

She wondered what had happened to the other kids. The answer was obvious, given… well, everything. April kept her mouth shut and let Casey tell her the rest: that, actually, her Dad had survived up until the last days before Casey was thrown through Mikey’s time portal. That it was only when they were close to a full rout that he finally fell, along with the rest of the base personnel. That, as far as Casey knew, April had been with him when he died.

And by the clipped, hesitant way he spoke, constantly glancing to her as he paused and searched for words—giving her this heavily edited version, trying not to give her any other information—April could gather that she’d probably died at the same time.

That they all had, maybe. With the base down, and the guys choosing to send Casey back more than twenty years instead of continuing to fight…? That was some Terminator shit right there. Only this time, the good guys were the ones that lost. That wasn’t exactly a surprise; it had been kind of obvious since Casey first arrived. Time travel was a last resort kind of option.

In the future, they all died.

April wished that changing the future would wipe the slate clean for Casey, too. For the rest of them, it was a case of Hooray! Disaster averted! and they could be relieved that none of this would ever happen. But it had, for one of them. She wondered how he was going to cope with that.

“...sorry.”

Annnd he was apologising to her again. April wrinkled her nose—gingerly, it was still healing, stupid Krang—and flicked him on the forehead, smiling grimly at his yelp. “Casey Jones, I’m fine. Is this why you didn’t want to meet my parents?”

Casey blinked at her owlishly in the dark, and then pulled back, looking guilty. “What? N-no, I did, I swear—”

“Lemme put it another way,” she said, taking pity on him. This kid still took everything so seriously. But, you know. Justified and all. “Is this why you were so nervous about it?” More ninja than the guys, hiding in the one gloomy patch of hallway and trying to be invisible. But he could probably have gotten away with not coming for any number of reasons, so the fact that he was willing to try…

“...a little,” he allowed after a moment. “I mean—I know it’s dumb. Your parents—your dad has never met me in this time. But I kept thinking he’d take one look at me and just kind of… know.” He paused, then ran hand through his hair sheepishly. “Not very rational, I guess.”

April smiled. “Nah. But it still makes sense. And you made it through dinner okay, right?”

“Yeah.” He smiled back. “Your parents are really nice. I can tell the guys like them, too.”

“Don’t remind me. They’re threatening to adopt.”

“...does it work that way in the past?”

She couldn’t help the snort of laughter at his genuine confusion. “Oh, man. We so have to give you a crash course in literally everything, don’t we.”

“Probably,” he said wryly. And paused again, before sighing. “Also, I think they finally worked out we’re not in the living room anymore.”

April blinked at him, and then turned toward the door—and yeah, it had gone suspiciously quiet out there. She put a finger to her lips, grinning at Casey, and reached down for her Journalism and Media Studies text book.

Then she threw it at the door hard and burst into laughter at the girlish shriek that came from the other side. Even Casey gave a soft huff of amusement as the door was flung open a moment later by Donnie, Mikey sprawled on the ground behind him.

“See,” Raph grumbled in the distance, “I told you guys—”

“April O’Neil,” Donnie demanded, “Are you throwing books at us?”

“It’s the outdated thing they gave us in class that you found the newer edition of.”

“In that case, carry on.”

“Don’t carry on,” Mikey wheezed, rolling up to his feet. “Books are scary.” And he dropped his voice to a stage whisper. “Also, Leo is asleeep.”

Oh, whoops. April glanced at the sofa, where Leo’s hood and red stripes could just be seen under the comforter, Raph sitting in front of him and polishing off the last of Leo’s food. She lowered her own voice to something more reasonable. “Then you shouldn’t have been eavesdropping.”

“Of course we were!” Donnie proclaimed, arms folded. Then winced. “--n’t. Weren’t eavesdropping. Don’t be ridiculous, we were merely concerned that you had run into emotional difficulties of some—” Mikey smacked him in the shoulder. “I mean. Eaten by rats. Because rats. Are a thing in these parts. Zombie rats. They could still be here.”

“Uh huh.” She folded her arms. “Casey?”

He honest to god saluted her with a perfectly straight face. “No rats in the apartment, Commander. Could be a liar or two, though.”

Raph snorted, choking on his mouthful of beef as Donnie gaped at them. Mikey planted his face on Donnie’s shell and gave a muffled giggle. “Someone tell Casey the house rules—”

“We have house rules now?” April wanted to know.

“Uhh, something something don’t be funny while people are eating?” Donnie suggested. “You nearly killed Raph.”

Raph pointed in their general direction but said nothing, still coughing.

“That’s not a house rule. That’s something you came up with to get Leo to shut up and eat.”

“In our defense, his puns are very painful,” Donnie noted. “Also, how long has he been Dumbonardo in your phone?”

“My—” She glanced down to see her phone in his hand, and April snatched it back. “Give me that.”

“I was updating it for you.”

“With what?”

“Answer the question and I’ll answer yours.”

She glared, but after poking at her phone to make sure he hadn’t put Yet Another Firewall on it, April gave a shrug. “Since the invasion.”

“Hmm. Some might say I am required to speak in my beloved brother’s defense, but I merely question why you didn’t do it earlier.”

Raph finally found his voice, still pointing. “Don’t use Raph as an excuse. Also Leo went to sleep, like, five minutes ago—you sure you wanna be roasting him like this?”

“It’s a night for roasts,” Mikey said sagely. “Speaking of, d’you think we can stick a fork in Dad and call him done yet?”

“I don’t know,” Splinter said from behind the couch. “Can you?”

They all yelped and jumped away from him—with the exception of Leo, who let out a small snore, and Casey, who just lifted a hand and waved. Splinter beamed at them and continued picking his teeth clean with a nail which, ew. April made a face. “When did you get in here?”

“A good ninja never reveals his secrets.”

“Oh, so you’re going to tell us everything—”

Splinter’s tail cracked into Donnie’s head, and April cackled, flopping into the armchair as he waved a finger. “The O’Neils will be in shortly! I came to warn you in advance so you can repair all the damage you’ve done.”

“Huh?” Raph’s brow furrowed. “What damage? If you’re talking about the gravy, we dealt with that—”

“There was no gravy,” Donnie said swiftly, and April immediately started scanning the cushions and the carpeting with dread. “It’s all in your imagination.”

“Who cares about gravy?” Splinter hissed, flailing his arms in dramatic outrage. “What about what you’ve done to the walls?”

They stared back at him in disbelief.

“Okay, first of all, that wasn’t us,” Donnie said, voice flat. “Second, I admire your faith that we can somehow put the walls back to rights in the moments we have before the O’Neils descend upon us with whatever imagined wrath you think we deserve—”

April raised a hand, sighing. “In light of Leo being asleep, let me be the one to tell you that was totally Draxum, and the walls were like that before you guys arrived.”

“Draxum, you say?” Splinter said gleefully. “I mean—oh no, your poor walls.”

“Hey, he did it saving April!” Mikey defended.

“Yeah, he’s off the hook for that one,” Raph said, ruffling Mikey’s mask tails. “You can blame him for a lot of things, but—”

“I’m sorry,” Draxum drawled, towering behind Raph suddenly. “What am I being blamed for now?”

They all yelped and scrambled in the opposite direction. Except for Casey, who waved again, and Leo, whose snoring took on a more stubborn sound, and April eyed him suspiciously. Draxum loomed over them all, dressed in a surprisingly nice kimono, its stylishness ruined somewhat by the traces of chocolate staining its sleeve, and he was holding a tray that was…

...gurgling. Huh.

Splinter recovered first. “Everything I can possibly get away with, and surprise ninja entrances are my thing! Get your own!”

Draxum raised an eyebrow. “Surprise ninja entrances? I walked through the door. Perhaps your supposed ninja family needs more training in observation.”

April glanced behind him to see that, yes, the door to the kitchen was open, and Carol was leaning against the frame watching them all. She caught April’s stare and grinned, offering her a wink.

And April relaxed. Whatever her parents had talked about with Splinter, it had turned out okay.

Draxum eyed them a moment longer, then gave a disdainful sniff and set the tray down on the coffee table. It was full of brown, bubbling and uneven sludge, and an attempt to slice it into squares had clearly been made before the pieces melted back together again. They surrounded it and eyed it dubiously.

“Brownies,” Draxum said proudly. “I grew them myself.”

Mikey peered at him. “Don’t you mean baked—”

“I said what I said.”

There was silence as they all stared down at what, honestly, looked a little like a horror story. Like a village buried under a sudden mud slide, maybe. The lumpiness did remind April a little of tiny drowning people, and the fact that it was still bubbling didn’t help.

It did smell delicious, though--

“Who would like to try one first?” Draxum asked. “Carol? As host—”

“Oh,” Carol said cheerfully. “As host, I’ll… find you some plates.” And she was gone with a speediness that April envied. She wondered if she could somehow vanish through the same doorway without being noticed.

“I’ll pass,” Casey said, raising a hand, and he looked sincerely apologetic. “I’m still meant to stick to a simple diet, and I think your brownies are too… rich?”

Nice save. April felt a little bad for Draxum as he looked around with confusion and frowned. “I promise you they taste just fine.”

“Did you follow my recipe?” Mikey asked weakly.

“I improved on your recipe—”

“I’ll go first,” Raph said, face dark and slamming a fist into his open palm. “I’ve eaten weirder.”

“Yeah, good luck with that.” Donnie was on his phone. “I am not eating anything that looks like a crime scene. Tampering with evidence is a no-no.”

Mikey peered at him. “That’s not what you said at the college labs—”

“You’re all babies.” Raph rolled up the sleeves of his jacket, wincing slightly as the holes at his elbows grew a little bigger. “I bet it’ll taste great and you should all give Barry the benefit of the doubt.”

“Thank you,” Draxum said with a sniff. “I tasted them myself and I am in perfectly good health. I don’t know why all of you are such cowards when it comes to yokai cooking.”

“Raph ain’t no coward.” Yet despite this, he hovered over the tray for a long time, fingers wiggling as if he wasn’t sure what to grab, and April watched the drop of sweat roll down his cheek. Everyone watched him in silence. Except for Donnie, who was humming. April thought it might be a dirge of some kind.

Another green hand reached out and stabbed a finger down into the tray, twirling a pile of warm goop around it, and they jumped. Leo stuck it into his mouth, eyes still half closed.

“Uh—”

“Sensei—”

“Nardo, don’t swallow that—”

“Oh, sweet pineapple on pizza,” Leo breathed, eyes flying open. “This is amazing. Who made this?”

There was dead silence. And then everyone pointed to Draxum. Leo blinked at him, wrinkled his snout, and snuggled back into his pile of comforters. “Oh, that’s right. Well, whatever, can’t win ‘em all. Can I have a plate?”

“Wait,” Donnie said, disbelieving. “You’re serious? You’re not just trying to trick us all into food poisoning?”

“You don’t wanna eat any, Dontron, it’s more for me.”

“Well, not that I doubt you...” Donnie squinted at the plate. “But brownies are meant to have a certain internal consistency. If you can twirl it around your finger I feel they should be classified as something more liquid—”

“Save me from picky eaters,” Draxum said, rolling his eyes. “If you wait a little longer I’m sure they’ll set.”

“They’re meant to set before you serve them, Barry—”

Mikey crossed his arms. “Hey, he tried! And therefore nobody should criticise him!”

“Oh, I think we can find plenty to criticise,” Splinter said, dabbing chocolate goop away from his mouth, and April gave a start and wondered when he’d managed that theft. “But I suppose in this case the brownies are exempt. I hate to say it, but they are delicious. In a strangely muddy kind of way.”

“Oh, nobody died?” Carol had reappeared, holding a stack of small plates. “I brought spoons as well, given their… unique texture. We can call it pudding instead of brownies, right?”

“But I made brownies,” Draxum said sulkily.

“Special recipe yokai brownies,” she said with a dry smile. “Clearly we poor humans don’t recognise quality when we see it.”

“Well, seeing as you brought it up—”

April stomped on his foot. Hard. Which probably hurt her more than it hurt him, given he had hooves and he merely gave her a blank look, but it did shut him up.

“Everyone stop arguing about dessert and eat it already,” Leo said, yawning. “Mrs O, dinner was delicious. I don’t know if I said that before, so…”

That prompted a general round of agreement, and she smiled at them, handing out the plates. “You’re very welcome. Maybe when you’re feeling better, we can do this again, huh?”

Splinter perked up. “You mean like a traditional Sunday dinner?”

“Not every Sunday,” August said, finally entering with a tray of glasses. “I’m not sure our poor apartment can take it. I heard something about gravy?”

“There is no gravy.”

“Oh, glad to hear it. Drinks, anyone?”

A chorus of hands shot up.

“I think there’s enough room for all of us,” Carol said, pointedly flopping down on the ground by April’s chair. “You guys haven’t picked a movie out yet. Anything in particular?”

“Do you have any Jupiter Jim?” Leo said, peering over his comforter.

“Who cares about Jupiter Jerkface.” Splinter huffed. “I happen to know they have the entire collection of Lou Jitsu’s hidden 80s gems—”

“We are not watching Lou Jitsu movies.” Draxum paused between serving up his pudding-slash-brownies onto plates to give him a disdainful look. “We already have to look at you enough today.”

“You only just arrived with faulty brownies, you don’t get a say—”

“My delicious brownies. Even the annoying one thinks so.”

“Don’t drag me into this, I’m horribly injured.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Anyway,” Mikey said determinedly, stuffing Leo’s mouth full of chocolate before he could retort, “That’s one vote for Jupiter Jer—Jim and like minus five for Lou Jitsu—”

“How dare you!” Splinter gasped. “The lack of respect!”

“Lou Jitsu’s ‘hidden 80s gems’ are uncut and not for children,” Carol said firmly. “Don’t scar them.”

“What do you mean—” Donnie paused, and then went a fascinating shade of grey as April hid her face. “Oh. Never mind.”

“I haven’t seen much of the Jupiter Jim franchise, actually,” August said thoughtfully. “Are they any good?”

“Actually,” Casey said, raising a hand with a hesitant smile, “I haven’t seen any. For, uh… obvious reasons..?”

There was silence as everyone stared at the two of them.

Then Leo reached out and smacked Donnie in the arm, making garbled sounds through his mouthful of chocolate sludge, and Donnie sighed. “Translating for my dum-dum brother here, I believe he wants me to say ‘Well, now we have to watch them. From the beginning.’”

“We don’t own any of them, though—”

“That is not a problem, believe me.” Donnie produced his tablet from out of thin air. “April? May I borrow your laptop?”

“You got it, Dee.” She wriggled out of the chair and scrambled past them to her room, cackling as Splinter stopped grumbling and snatched up a plate, perching on the far arm of Leo’s sofa. By the time she returned, dad had pulled in a chair from the kitchen to sit on and the rest were mostly lounging on the floor with what spare cushions they had, and Donnie was perched in an unlikely sprawl across the back of the sofa, setting up the connections they’d need.

“Okay!” Donnie straightened up as she handed him her laptop. “Given there are more than eighty films in the franchise we will clearly start with just the one, so let’s go for one of the more iconic for new viewers and take bets on how long it takes Nardo to fall asleep again—”

“Hey,” Leo protested sleepily. “Rude. I wanna watch people watching JJ.”

“Again, skill issue. I suppose we can ask April to throw more text books—”

“I know who I’m gonna throw ‘em at if I do.”

“—but books are sacred and should not be treated that way. I give him five minutes.”

“Eight,” Carol said mildly.

“Mom!”

“Oh no, Raph is not losin’ another Leo bet. I give him three minutes, look at him, he’s already yawnin’—”

“You’re all jerks.”

“Shush, Leo, or I’ll rig the bet in my favour. You will not like my methods.”

“Dad, Donnie’s threatening me again.”

“Be quiet and go to sleep! Preferably after four minutes.”

“You’re all gonna lose,” Mikey sing-songed. “Leo loves these movies. I’ll give him a full half hour.”

“Thank you, Miguel, but also you’re still a jerk.”

“I love you too.”

“Shh, shh-- the movie’s starting.”

“Shh.”

“Ssh!”

April’s phone buzzed as her dad got the lights, and she blinked down at it.

Donnie: >> I updated your panic button. For all your potential home invasion needs. If we can’t answer, it’ll summon a drone. No more zombies. Share it with parents?

Oh… right. The update. April smiled, and offered him a thumbs up in the dark as the movie started. She’d have to break the news to her parents that they were adopted after all.

Her chair hadn’t been stolen, which was nice of them. She settled back into it, and Carol glanced up at her with a small smile.

“Okay?” April whispered.

“More than,” Carol whispered back.

And...okay. Good. Great. Something in her settled into pure warmth and she curled her knees up to her chest, glancing at her dad. He smiled and gave her a quick nod. Two for two.

It was gonna be more than okay. From here, it was gonna be amazing.

#rottmnt #rottmnt fic #nekotsuki #no rest for the weary #(adjacent)#this probably has terrible pacing THEY WOULD NOT SHUT UP #super long post

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