#or me reading this argument from another account

[so-hoshi-nya]

>>> should not be judged just because he did it in the past

>>> his actions should be judged by looking at the time

It's so cute not to be able to read, but to judge others and block them without letting them say a word :)

As soon as you learn to read, find out what the principle of historicism is

[absurdthirst]

Fucking Fungus {Joel Miller x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: SEX POLLEN, dub con, post apocalyptic world, scavenging, guilt, shame, desire, Joel having a bad attitude, mentions of periods, rough sex, neediness, unprotected sex, cream pie

Comments: Coming across Wymore, NE, you hoped to find some much needed supplies for the coming winter but you find that the fungus has mutated in dangerous and frightening ways. Needing to insure that there are more hosts to infect in a very basic kind of way.

🎊🎉🎊🎉🎊🎉Happy Birthday @storiesofthefandomlovers!!!! I love you and hope you have the best damn day! In thotty tradition, here is a sex pollen to celebrate another year around the sun!🎊🎉🎊🎉🎊🎉

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Joel Miller MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

The world has changed in the past twenty years. None of it for the betterment of humanity. The crunch of the dried leaves grinds under your boots and your head rotates left and then right as you watch, listen. Waiting for any sign of life or more importantly, danger. The weight of your rifle is heavy in your hands, although you hold it down, unassuming but ready to be lifted at a second’s notice. 

“I don’t know why you don’t just hook it over your shoulder.” Ellie snorts, her backpack bouncing slightly on her back from the steps that seem so unencumbered by worry. Why should she worry when there are two fully armed adults on either side of her. Her own personal guard in a manner of speaking. “There hasn’t been anything out here for daaaaaays.” She drags the word out like it's the most horrible thing in the world that it’s been peaceful. 

Joel snorts, rolling his eyes as you glance over at him and then look back out at the surrounding terrain. “Yeah, that’s why we are on guard.” He grunts, even though his own rifle is on his shoulder. His hand gripped the shoulder sling loosely but he had only just put it up there half an hour ago after you had taken your turn relaxing as much as you can. “it’s too fucking quiet.” 

He’s right. After the disasters that had been Kansas City, you had tried to avoid major cities, but even in the small towns, you had come across plenty of cordyceps and clickers. You hate the clickers with a passion.

The isolation can account for a lot of the silence. Miles stretching between remnants of civilization. The crumbling buildings and overgrown roads give the entire midwest a sense of peace. It’s unnerving. 

Your grip adjusts, head rolling around your shoulders slightly to try to loosen the knot that builds up in your shoulders after so long. The weight of your pack isn’t as heavy as it should be, the rations not exactly filling since you had to escape that one clicker in Du Bois, Nebraska. Your pack had been ripped and most of the food you had been carrying was lost. 

You glance over at Joel, noticing the way his shoulders seem to hang, almost a reflection of the way you feel. “We need to risk a larger town.” You murmur quietly, knowing that his first instinct will be to argue with you. You stumble slightly over a rock and hiss when you feel the hole in the sole of your boots. 

“Too dangerous.” Joel snorts, shaking his head even as he watches you regain your footing. “I’ve got some duct tape in my bag.” He reminds you, knowing that you should probably reinforce that shoe before you lose the sole all together. 

“It’s not just shoes.” You protest, trying to ignore the way that Ellie groans obnoxiously loud and stomps her foot. 

“Come on, man!” She throws her own arguments into the ring. “I need tampons! We could find them if there was jack shit out here, but there’s not. Do you want me to attract wild animals?” She presses, glaring at Joel who looks equal parts horrified and unconvinced. She cracks an evil grin. “Circling us in the wild as I just leave behind a trail of blood? Aaaaand tears.” She adds, lifting her brows. “Periods are really emotional things.” 

Biting your lip to keep from snorting, you watch as Joel; normally stoic, no bullshit Joel, can’t seem to string together the words to respond. His eyes slide over to you, almost pleading with you to say something. 

Your brows lift in question and he twitches slightly, his dark eyes unhappy with you not immediately jumping in to save him. “We could use the food if we can find any.” You rationalize, smirking when his brows pinch together and he looks like he had just been betrayed. 

“Clean underwear!” Ellie adds. “Or….cleaner. And a heavier fucking coat.” She shivers slightly and you can see that is the moment when Joel caves. He acts like a prick most of the time, but he’s got a soft spot for the kid. He won’t admit, maybe not even to himself, but he looks over at the faded and nearly rusted out sign. 

You continue walking, not pressing any more and you can hear the grumbling thoughts that are rolling through Joel’s mind. The now half hearted protests about why this is such a bad idea but you wait for the sigh. 

Almost even with the sign is when it comes, heavy and it sounds almost pained. Like he is going against everything he believes in. “Stop.” He huffs, shuffling to pull his bag off his back and kneeling down with a groan and the small pops of fifty plus year old knees. Unzipping the pocket where he keeps the Atlas and flips the worn pages to Nebraska. Glancing back at the road behind you and then at the sign before looking at the map. Tracing the route that you had already traveled before looking ahead at the towns that were on highway 77. 

Ellie doesn’t say a word but she practically bounces on her toes as she waits for his decision. You know that he’s going to agree, it’s just a matter of which town he chooses. He knows the truth of the situation. Winter is going to come quicker than any of you want, your food supply is low, you could probably all use a new set of boots, and all of you would kill for a halfway decent musty mattress to sleep on. Four walls and a hopefully non-leaking roof over your heads would be the icing on the cake. 

“Wymore is coming up in fifty-eight miles.” He taps the map and looks up at you to see what you think. 

Ellie shuffles slightly and instead of grinning, you crane your neck to look at the map yourself. “It looks like it’s bigger than the last few towns, but at least it’s not like we are running into Lincoln.” You hum before you nod. “I say we try.”

“Yessssss!” The teenager pumps her fist in excitement and she grins when Joel rolls his eyes. You’ve noticed that like any normal teenager, her favorite activity is annoying any kind of parental unit and pushing boundaries. This applies to Joel whether or not he likes it. “I want to find another joke book too.” 

Joel groans but you just turn around, grinning yourself as Joel mumbles under his breath, stuffing the map back in his pack and zipping it up. Joel and Ellie are alike in a lot of ways, especially their penchant for mumbling. 

You resist the urge to offer him a hand up, knowing he will be even more pissy if you do. For someone who complains about being older, he gets downright grouchy when he’s reminded of that same fact. “Well then, the quicker we get there, the quicker we don’t have to hear ‘are we there yet?’.” You snort, making Ellie grin shamelessly as she shrugs, knowing she will do exactly that. 

“So let’s get going.” She doesn’t wait for anyone, just setting off down the road and leaving the two of you to catch up with her. 

****

It takes you nearly three days to get to Wymore. All of you are tired, but Joel is the one who barely sleeps, even when you force him to lay down. It’s as if he cannot stop trying to protect Ellie, and also you, long enough for him to rest. He gets upset when he has to sleep, staying up until he is nodding off. The coffee supply has been exhausted and it’s probably a good thing. He would drink it all day to the point where his hands would shake from too much caffeine. Still he just wouldn’t trust you to make sure that no one snuck up on you for a few hours until he was past the point of being useless. 

The first signs of the town are a welcomed relief but it’s also an added source of tension. Each mile that you had traveled had added to the fear that this might be the time that you fail. That something goes wrong and someone else dies. The road here has not been easy and the losses have weighed heavily on all of you. Joel still won’t even mention Tess and you hate it when you wake up in the early morning hours to find him staring down at the broken face of his watch with a look that breaks your heart. 

Every approach into a new area can mean danger, either from the clickers or from humans and honestly you don’t know which one you fear more. Your gun is back in your hand, the weight of it familiar and comforting as you pass the first gas station, the windows busted out and dried fungus clinging to the building. 

“Fuck.” You hiss, uneasy at the presence of the fungal vines, even if they look like they aren’t active.

“I wonder why it looks pink.” Ellie frowns as she squints at the building. “It’s usually an ugly brown color, right?” She looks towards Joel for confirmation, but he’s busy frowning at the building himself. 

“Maybe this isn’t a good idea.” If the cordyceps have spread this far out of town then there’s a possibility there are still active branches closer to the supplies that you are looking for. 

“Come on man.” Ellie groans, kicking a dirt clod. “There’s nothing for miles. It’s probably all dead.” 

You know that Ellie is probably right, but it’s a risk. You bite your lip, looking over at Joel. “Why don’t we sweep the town and we can see?” You ask, knowing that if everything is dead, you could desperately use the rest. Cordyceps rarely return en masse when the vines have withered and died. It could be a safe place to recharge and for Joel to sleep for more than ten minutes at a time. 

You’ve stopped walking as you talk, Joel looking around as he contemplates your alternatives. To be honest, there aren’t many and both of you know it. Not without a lot of backtracking which none of you want to do. 

Joel sighs and you know that he’s going to agree. He turns to Ellie. “Don’t fucking touch anything until we say it’s alright.” He points at her for good measure, as if his finger would impress the importance of his words. “Got it?” 

“Got it.” She huffs. “Jesus, you act like we haven’t done this before.” You roll your eyes and look away, knowing you shouldn’t encourage her right now. 

It takes hours to make your way into the center of town. Not because you are blocked by clickers or avoiding humans, it’s because you are stocking up. It’s like the fungus took over this town and just let it rot. Nothing inside the first few blocks of town is disturbed. No looting has been done here, plenty of supplies to be had. 

Both you and Joel have been cautious but slowly optimistic as you’ve found boots and heavy jackets, gloves and hats. A new pair of clothes have been rolled into everyone’s bags and you’ve even grabbed another pack to fill with the mylar sealed packs of camping food from the sporting goods store. It was a miracle that nothing had been ransacked, but it makes you wonder exactly what the fuck happened here. Did the army sweep through and round up all the residents right away? It would make sense, but then why were there dead spores of the fungus here? You haven’t seen one body so far and it makes you nervous. 

“This place is a fucking gold mine.” Ellie grins like a kid in a candy store, perhaps because you’ve actually found candy and she has been sucking on the jolly ranchers until the top of her mouth is raw. “Now we just need to find a place to sleep. I want my own room.” 

Glancing over at Joel, you expect him to immediately tell her no, but he doesn’t say a word. Continuing to look around like he is expecting a clicker to pop out from the doorway of the local McDonald’s, now completely covered in that strange pink fungus. It’s like he doesn’t even hear her as he frowns at the building. 

She takes that as approval and immediately starts talking about how she’s going to spread out. Making you snort when she talks about sitting in her underwear for an hour. There hasn’t been a lot of privacy out here on the road, so you can understand that desire. 

“Joel.” You murmur his name softly, knowing that the best thing you can do is to find the motel and get settled down for the night before the sun sets. Even if this town is as safe as it appears on the surface, you would rather not be fumbling around in the dark . He doesn’t look over at you, still staring at the overgrown building as if it’s holding the secret. Maybe it reminds him of the Boston Museum, ominously covered with the tentacles of the fungus and the horrors that you had found inside it. “Joel!”

“What?” His head whips around, body tense as he’s ripped out of his thoughts. Relaxing when he finds you and Ellie staring at him. “We need to find the motel.” You remind him, nodding towards the sun getting lower in the sky. “I think we could all use a good night’s sleep.” 

He stares at you for a moment, his eyes searing your face, looking for some hidden meaning beneath your words before he glances over at an eager Ellie. “Yeah, sure.” He agrees, adjusting his rifle to sling it onto his shoulder and adjusts his now much heavier pack on his back. “Probably on the other side of the main drag.” 

His new boots thump against the cracked pavement. The roads leading deeper into the town is the guide towards what will hopefully be a comfortable bed and at least eight hours of sleep. 

Your own new boots feel pretty good, but maybe a day or so here, going through supplies and really making sure that you can take on the coming winter would be a good thing. Allowing you to break in the shoes without blisters. You’ll have to talk about it with Joel after Ellie sequesters herself for the night. 

It’s about another fifteen minutes before you get to the small motel that looks like it will be a good place to spend the night. Half the building is covered in another large cluster of the fungus, the pink hue looking particularly bright in the fading sun. 

“We’ll get some keys.” It will be better than breaking down doors, especially since the motel wasn’t equipped with the keycards that the high end hotels had started switching to before society came crashing down. 

The bad news is that the motel doesn’t have any adjoining rooms, so Joel and Ellie get into a small spat about her having her own room, Ellie eventually winning after promising that she will block the door with a dresser and he’s allowed to sweep the room before she locks herself in. Half the building is so overtaken by the vivid pink fungus that you swear looks like a big splat of bubblegum thrown over the walls. 

She doesn’t even want to have dinner with you and Joel, making the man go through the room and then telling you both goodnight and shutting the door in your face. Making you laugh as Joel frowns at the door, rethinking this entire situation. 

“Well, you can have a room to yourself too.” You offer, smirking as he cuts his eyes towards you. You know that Joel would rather everyone sleep where he can keep his eyes on them, so you getting privacy is off the table. 

“Shut up.” Joel grunts, walking down towards the next room and kicking it open, watchful even though you’ve both already been in the room and deposited your bags. It’s a nice room, two double beds so each one of you can stretch out and relax. 

You laugh quietly and decide to walk down the railing towards the portion of the building that has been overtaken by the fungus. Your curiosity about this variant is finally getting the best of you and you want to get a better look at it. 

It’s thick. The tendril that is draped over the metal railing of the second floor, wrapping around it and up the support column. You bite your lip, tilting your head when you see the withered remnants of some kind of flower. What kind of fungus sprouts flowers?

You jump when something touches your back, whirling around to find Joel behind you, holding his hands up. He smirks at you, his eyes crinkling in amusement. “Fuck you.” You hiss, narrowing your eyes and he huffs. “What are you doing?” He asks. 

Turning back towards the fungus, you sigh. “This is different from any other kind I’ve ever seen.” You comment, stepping closer to it only to feel Joel reach for your arm to pull you back. “It’s dried out.” You remind him, jerking your head towards the husk of the cordyceps. “Have you ever seen anything like this?” You know that he spent a lot of time sneaking out of the Boston QZ, it’s possible he had seen it before. 

He grunts, relaxing his hold on you and he shuffles slightly closer, looking at the flower buds that extend from the tendrils. His own suspicions about anything fungus related is deep, but it’s dried. “I haven’t.” He admits after a moment, narrowing his eyes slightly and trying to think if there is any reason why this pink coloring has the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. 

“So it’s something new.” You bite your lip and lean in, feeling the disapproval radiate off of Joel in hot waves but you ignore him. Tilting your head and reaching out to touch one of the dried flowers. 

“Don’t-”

The second your finger touches the wilted bloom, it bursts open, spurting you and Joel behind you in a cloud of pink dust. You gasp, holding your breath but there’s no hope for not inhaling the pollen. 

“Fuck!” Joel coughs, shaking his head and backing up so quickly he hits the side of the building and reaches out to drag you away from the lingering cloud of dust and starts to practically beat it off the two of you. “We need- we need-” He leans over and starts coughing, obviously having inhaled just as much of it as you had. 

“We’re okay.” You gasp, shaking your head and brushing the dust off your clothes. “We- it’s dead. Right?” You hate that you are asking that, but you hadn’t expected that from a dried out fungus.

“It- we should clean up.” Joel blinks, the pollen making his eyes itch and that has to be the cause of the rush of heat that slides over him. It’s just adrenaline. Fear. Anything that would scare both of you would make the slight nip in the air disappear and make you feel like your skin is superheated.

The water is gravity fed. The large cisterns on the roof are still full and while it’s not warm, perhaps a cold shower might be better right now. Joel drags you both to the room and locks the door, although he doesn’t push a dresser in front of it in case Ellie needs you in the night. 

In the bathroom, you are shaking as you start to strip down, worrying about how stupid you just were and if you completely fucked yourself. The anxious fear covering the way your skin seems to burn and feel so sensitive to everything. Shuddering when your hand brushes over your thigh as you push your jeans down and kick them off before you pull your shirt over your head and remove your bra. 

Clean up. Get the pollen off your skin and cool down. Your body seems to be working on overdrive. Your nipple hard under the cold water and instead of gasping in shock, you moan softly. Enjoying the sensation and reaching for the bar of soap that is still wrapped in plastic. 

Hurry up, hurry up. Joel paces around the room, his hands curled into fists. Practically sweating even though the air is cool as the sun sets. His body feels like it’s on fire, like he is battling a sickness. 

Over and over again, he goes through the symptoms of the infection of the cordyceps, there’s no veining, he’s stopped and checked his eyes and reflection in the peeling mirror about twenty times in the five minutes you’ve been in the bathroom. And he doesn’t fucking think the fungus makes his cock harder than a fucking rock in his jeans. 

He’s not thought about sex in months. Nothing beyond fleeting moments of attraction to you that he swiftly buries under guilt and responsibility. Normally, it is when you’re bent over and your ass is presented to him in such a way that he thinks about sinking into you from behind, or when your shirt pulls tight over your breasts and he imagines cupping them in his hands as you sit on his cock. Immediately dismissed and ignored as he reminds himself of how he had failed Tess, he doesn’t deserve to find warmth and comfort in your arms. 

Now, it’s all he can think about. The urge to palm his cock makes his fingers twitch and he almost moves his hand over his crotch before he flinches back to reality and tries to examine his face in the mirror again, wondering if his eyes are bloodshot from lack of sleep or if he is infected. 

Scrubbing your body is nearly painful, wanting to stop and touch yourself, but you can’t. You need to get this done and get out so Joel can shower. Still, despite the cold water, you feel like you are on fire when you shut off the water and realize that you didn’t bring your bag into the bathroom. You will have to go out there in nothing because you can’t put those clothes back on. Not until they have been washed. 

Moderately dry, you hear Joel bang on the door. “Hurry up.” He growls, making you clench your thighs together at the raspy tone and hating how it spears through you. You know Joel isn’t interested in you, hasn’t ever looked at you like that and the crush that you had on the man had been buried deep. 

“I’m done.” You don’t have a chance to be embarrassed as you open the door and Joel practically shoves past you into the bathroom and slams it behind him. “Fuck.” Your annoyance cools the heat for a moment, but it’s only temporary. 

The water is icy, but still, Joel curls his hands into fists against the shower wall. He’s fucking hard. Harder than he had probably ever been in his entire life, even when he was a horny teenager and would have fucked anyone who let him between their thighs. He’s not felt like this ever. The need to touch himself builds to the point where his hips are rocking into thin air against the spray of the water. Want clawing up his throat and pooling in his stomach in a heavy knot. 

You don’t dress, you can’t. Crawling under the covers of one of the beds, you listen to Joel groan in the bathroom, it’s muted over the sound of the shower but it’s sexy. All of his sounds are sexy, from the low grunts he gives when he’s stiff and sore, to the huffs and groans of annoyance. It’s all sexy to you. The rasp of his voice when he’s not spoken for a few hours. 

Closing your eyes, it’s easy to give in, to let your hands drift over your skin. He’s not here, you can take care of this frantic need that is swirling inside you. You just need to slide your hand between your thighs and ease it. It wouldn’t take much more than a few swipes of your fingers against your pulsing and aching clit. 

Trying to fight it, you concentrate on your breathing, in and out. Inhaling slowly and holding it so you can exhale when the burn in your lungs tells you that you’ve reached your limit. It helps, but not much. Not when you’re imagining Joel in his shower. Touching him. Being free to touch him and having his hands on your body in return. 

Your hands slip over your breasts, squeezing them hard enough to moan softly and your legs shift to press together. Clenching around nothing and wishing that you were full while your hands start to move down over your stomach. 

The first touch is almost a relief, your entire core quivering as your fingers press against your clit. It’s overwhelming and not enough. You need more, fingertips pressing and rubbing around the puffed up bundle of nerves. You’re already soaked and can feel it dripping down your slit. 

Spurred on by that insatiable need, you slide your fingers around your entrance and start to press them inside. Biting your lip to keep yourself from moaning. Imagining that it’s more, that it’s a cock that is starting to break you open and fill that void that is aching. 

You are so caught up in the bliss of that first stretch of your fingers that you don’t hear the shower turn off. The quiet curses coming from the bathroom are muffled by the rush of blood in your ears, the feeling of relief coursing through your nerves and taking over. You don’t hear the click of the lock and the turn of the handle. The door opening doesn't even register as you plant your heels on the bed and push your hips up, needing to get your fingers deeper, not quite reaching the spot inside you that craves fullness. 

You don’t hear him until he chokes out a sound that is pained and low, like he’s injured. Your eyes pop open as you lurch up off the bed, your fingers ripping themselves out of your cunt hard enough to make you whimper. Fixed on Joel’s towel draped body, tented over his waist. 

“Joel, I-” “Fuuuuuck.” He growls, his eyes closing and his hands bunches into fists, one holding his towel and the other by his side. “I’ve tried to not think about you, about touching you.” His words are rasped out, strained against his vocal cords. “I’ve goddamn beat into my brain that you aren’t to be thought about this way and now, I can’t stop.” His stomach clenches and his body twitches as he struggles to keep still. 

Your chest heaves and you see his eyes drop down to your uncovered tits. His jaw clenching and his Adam’s Apple bobbing as he swallows. “I - I need to touch myself.” You admit breathlessly. “I - it hurts so bad and I need something inside me.” 

Joel groans again, shuddering so violently that you can see him shake from where you are. “I’ve jerked off in the shower twice and it's still hard.” He drops the towel, revealing his hard and leaking cock, making you whimper at the sight and clench around nothing. “I think that- that we- that the flower-” “I don’t care.” You moan, shaking your head and crawling to your knees and shuffling forward. Showing him all of you and so goddamn desperate to touch him that you think you are about to explode. “Touch me, Joel. Fuck, touch me, please.” You beg, your hands on your own body. “We-” He shakes his head and his face changes, morphs into pain.

“Fuck me.” You hiss, watching as his resolve breaks. His cock bounces as he lunges for you, hard and swift, driving you back to the bed with a bounce. Almost as if he is attacking you. 

He’s not gentle. His mouth finding yours in a harsh kiss, your permission unleashing the coils of restraint that he had tried to put on himself. His grip bruises as he hauls you up the bed and settles between your thighs. 

You’ve always attributed Joel with rough gentleness. The type of man who would make you ache and then hold you close. Groaning in pleasure when you find out that is exactly what Joel Miller is like. His hands spreading your thighs with a desperation that proves he is just as afflicted by this fungal pollen as you are. His cock hard and pressing against your folds as he rocks his hips forward to line up. Almost unable to find the hole with his eagerness to sink into you. 

“Joel, hurry.” Your hands shake, holding onto him and urging him closer to you, frantic with need now that you know that you are going to have him inside you. 

“Goddamn, I’m trying.” He hisses, hating to let you go so he can take his cock in hand. Rocking into his own grip as he shuttles his hips forward. “I’m fuckin’ trying, sweetheart.” 

You whimper when you finally feel him pressing against your entrance, choking out a sound of need that is animalistic. Only to cry out in bliss as he pushes inside you without another delay. 

He groans, eyes cinched shut as he slides inside you to the hilt, burying himself in your heat and feeling that coil in his stomach tighten even more now that your walls are around him. Immediately starting to move just as soon as he fills you, driving by that need and burning in his very veins. 

It’s exquisite, the pain and pleasure blending and fusing in your stomach, nerves alight and responding to every small movement. You can’t get enough of him, you need more. Wrapping  your legs around his hips, you rise to meet his harsh thrusts. Clenching down around him every time he hits that spot deep inside you that you couldn’t reach with your fingers. 

He shouldn’t be inside you, he shouldn’t be touching you, but now that he is, he can’t stop. Turning his head, he presses his lips to yours and slides his tongue into your mouth. Needing more. Kissing you like he had imagined a thousand times before. Giving into every urge he has had since the day he met you and repressed before right now. Snapping his hips forward sharply and pulling every groan out of your mouth to swallow down. 

Every thrust makes it better, eases that burning in your core, your cunt slick and squelching every time he drives into you. He absorbs every sound you make, almost greedy for them. His hips jarring as they slam into you. Rocking you both up the bed. 

“Oh god,” breaking away from the kiss, you moan into his ear. Closing your eyes as he pants and puffs while he fucks you. “So deep, so deep, Joel.” Your nails drag down his back, making him hiss in pleasure and pain. 

“Shit.” He groans your name, lost in the rhythm of his thrusts and the building pressure. “You needed this?” He growls, making you clench down around him hard and whimper his name. “Yessss.” You agree, nodding against the pillow. “Needed it so bad.” 

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight.” He huffs, burying his face against your neck. Continuing to pound into you, and not letting up even though his back is screaming in pain. His body won’t let him do anything but rock his hips. Driven by a need that overrides everything else. 

His words make you burn, making you even more desperate for him. Your hips rock up and legs tightening around his waist even more. Loving how his cock stretches you out and scrubs against every nerve in your cunt. Lighting up your body until you are gasping on the edge of that much needed orgasm. 

Every plunge into your body brings him closer to cumming, desperate to feel that emptiness, that wrung out filling once he has filled you. He shouldn’t cum inside you, he knows that, but he’s not going to be able to stop himself. He can barely pull back enough to rock his hips back into you. 

His arms have banded around you, holding you into place as he fucks you. Deep and primal, as if he is trying to fuse the two of you into one. His cock punches into the depths of your body that you never imagined anyone reaching, but he touches it with ease. Your body pulsing with that need to come apart. 

“So close, I’m so close, baby.” You whine, body starting to tremble underneath him. “So close.” Your nails dig into his shoulder, grounding yourself to him in desperation. “Joel.” 

“I gotcha.” He groans, eyes closed and his breath fanning against your skin. “I’mma take good care of you, sweetheart.” He promises. “You’re gonna cum all over my cock, ain’t cha? Just like you wanted.” 

His words throw you over the edge, that need built up so tight inside you that it busts on the next thrust. Lights careen and collide behind your eyes, bright and beautiful as your whole body ignites into pleasure like you’ve never experienced before. Crying out loudly and soaking  him in a wave of your juices. Cumming harder than you ever have before. 

Joel growls your name, his hips stuttering as you come apart around you. Unable to hold back any longer. He buries himself deep into your hot passage and paints your walls with sticks ropes of his seed. Panting against your lips as he empties himself body and perhaps his very soul into you. 

Both of you pant, relieved and exhausted from the pure exertion of need as you had taken from each other. Joel presses into you, trying to catch his breath, but the fire is still burning low in his belly, his cock still not softening as it twitches inside you. 

“Oh fuck.” You feel that same desire still curling in your stomach, not satisfied by the intensity of the orgasm that you are still coming down from. “Joel-” 

He huffs and shakes his head. “Don’t-” he presses his lips to your again, body screaming as he starts to move again. “Shhhhhh.” 

The need still burns and both of you are still locked in its fiery grip, not yet free from the desire that washed over you from a burst of pollen. 

****

“What the fuck man, open the door!” The thudding on the door finally penetrates the bone deep sleep you had finally fallen into. You don’t know how many time Joel fucked you, or how many times he had spend himself inside you as you blearily open your eyes. 

Joel grunts, slowly opening his own eyes and unwinding himself from the tangled together position that you had passed out in. The knocking on the door keeps on. “Joel!” Your name is also shouted, Ellie starting to sound somewhat panicked when neither one of you is immediately opening the door. 

“Fuck! I’m coming.” He drags the top blanket off the bed and wraps it around his waist before flinging the door opened to blink into the harshness of the sun. “What?” He growls roughly, making Ellie’s eyes blow wide with shock.

“Holy shit, what happened to you?” She demands, pushing into the room and stopping short when she sees you sitting up in the only bed that has been disturbed, the sheet anchored beneath your armpits. “Oh shit, you fucked.” She gasps, turning and shooting Joel an impressed grin. “Way to go, old man, you made a move.” Her grin quickly turns into an expression of mild disgust when she realizes that she’s congratulating you two on having sex. “Uh, I’m gonna go now.” She huffs, wrinkling her nose and pinching it. “It smells in here.” Waving her hand in front of her face, she darts back out the door and Joel just stands there for a moment before he rolls his eyes and goes to shut the door before he thinks better of it. Sticking his head out of the room, he shouts after Ellie. “Stay away from the fucking fungus!” 

You snort, grinning to yourself as your body starts to ache. Fucking fungus indeed. 

[mavrintarou]

[3:19 PM] - Suna Rintarou

Gotta head out - be back later to edit... or not. Enjoy!

Warning: smut . Aside from volleyball, Rintarou was naturally gifted with the camera.

He had captured some of the most exquisite and breathtaking photographs of Y/n, making it look like they were professional shots.

He also possessed a collection of the most embarrassing shots, which he kept strictly to himself. There were also a few special ones that were meant for his eyes only, capturing intimate moments between them.

He was a very active Instagramer – posting quite frequently for his million followers, but he kept his relationship out of public eyes.

When Rintarou created a TikTok account, his followers grew by the day.

He would capture a wide range of videos, from documenting his volleyball training sessions and games to showcasing the delicious lunches Y/n packed for him. He even recorded moments of making his coffee, creating a collection of glimpses into his daily life.

Each time he makes a video, Y/n gets a notification, and she entertains herself with them.

“My baby made me some Korean food today,” he sniffs his bento, groaning. “I told her I’ve been craving some Korean food, and… she loves me so much.” He stuffs his mouth with a Kimbap. “You guys ask if she makes me lunch every day – yes. Does she not work or… is she a stay-at-home partner?” He shoves another Kimbap into his mouth. “She’s definitely an independent woman who earns her own money and won’t allow me to support her like the best boyfriend I am…” he narrows his eyes directly at the camera, “she always watches my videos, so – please tell her that it she needs to let me treat her like a queen.”

Y/n burst out laughing and clicked on the comments.

Suna’s girlfriend, please allow Rintarou to treat you like a queen!

Can we get a glimpse of her?

She is so lucky!

You’re so lucky; your food looks so good!

Y/n narrows her eyes at the first comment.

You’re so hot, Rin; please fuck me!

Y/n clicked on the person’s profile of a young woman.

Curiosity got Y/n going through Rin’s other videos to view the comments. She saw the same account commenting on every one of Rin’s videos, saying something inappropriate.

.

Rin checked his phone as he slipped his shirt on.

He was still waiting for a message from Y/n.

Though it wasn’t unusual, it felt odd that she didn’t text or react to his video.

She always commented or reacted to his video.

Did she not see it?

But it clearly said Read 2:35 PM underneath the message.

Without wasting another moment, he made his way toward their apartment, a sense of urgency guiding his steps. Sitting behind the wheel, waiting at a red light, he drummed his fingers anxiously on the steering wheel. The unsettling feeling gnawed at him, the sense that something was amiss between them weighing heavily on his mind.

While they didn’t frequently engage in conflicts, he made a conscious effort to minimize arguments, fully aware that disagreements are a natural part of any relationship. Over the course of their four-year journey together, they encountered only a few instances where tension escalated. However, despite needing some time to cool off, they always found a way to come together and discuss their concerns. They were committed to understanding each other’s perspective and exploring ways to grow and improve for the sake of their relationship.

And have hot makeup sex.

Rintarou jams the button to his floor in the elevator impatiently. Of all days, it seemed like the elevator door was being an asshole and taking its merry time to get him up to his floor.

“Y/n!” He shouts once he enters his apartment.

“Yes?” her sweet voice calls from the kitchen.

She doesn’t sound upset or mad, he thought. He quickly toes off his shoes and drops his gym bag in the living room to head to the kitchen. His heart relaxes a bit, finding her in the kitchen preparing dinner.

But he was still a little nervous and wasn’t entirely convinced she wasn’t upset.

He goes to wrap his arms around her waist, kissing her cheek and resting his chin on her shoulder. “How was your day?”

“Good,” she answered, “you?”

“Tired,” he answered as usual, “but a little… nervous.”

She finished whatever she was doing before washing her hands, the both of them doing a funny dance towards the sink because once Rin clings on to Y/n, it is no use trying to get him off.

“Go wash your hands and sit down; let’s eat.” She hears his sigh before he lets her go, and she watches over her shoulder as he pouts towards the sink to wash his hands and takes a seat in his usual spot.

Y/n leans against the counter, watching him zone out sitting there. Rintarou may be hard to read on the court, but Y/n could read him anytime.

Something weighed heavily on him, and his emotions spilled out much like a toddler’s when they couldn’t express their feelings.

He doesn’t realize Y/n has yet to set the table, “why are you nervous?”

He gazed up at her with a lost expression, his voice barely above a whisper. “You didn’t react to my video,” he murmured, seeking an answer with a hint of disappointment in his tone.

Y/n arched an eyebrow at him, suppressing a chuckle. “What?”

“You didn’t react to my video today… did you not watch it?” he inquired with a  tinge of concern. “Did I say too much in the video about you?” The renowned and notorious Middle Blocker for EJP Raijin resembled an anxious child, desperately seeking reassurance if he had done the right thing.

Y/n furrowed her brows, a realization dawning upon her as she acknowledged her lack of response to his video. “Oh, Rin,” she chuckled softly, moving closer and straddling his lap. Tenderly cupping his face, she pressed her lips against his pout, kissing it away. “I did watch it, but I must have gotten carried away reading the comments,” she explained, her tone apologetic. Her eyes narrowed as she mentioned one particular fan. “There was this one fan who was quite vulgar towards you,” she continued, her voice hinting disapproval. “I didn’t like it one bit.”

Something flickered in his eyes, and Y/n couldn’t help but roll her eyes, anticipating his reaction. “Are you… jealous?” he asked a hint of amusement in his voice.

There it is.

“No, I’m not. I don’t need to be jealous when I already have you.”

Rin kisses her throat and nips the skin there. “You’re right; I’m yours, all yours, just as you’re mine, right?”

“Hmm,” Y/n runs her fingers through his hair before gripping a fist full and tilting his head back. “All mine.”

His eyes widen for a split second before they squeeze shut when Y/n trails her tongue along his jaw and down his neck. She was not one to mark him in prominent areas, but tonight, she showed no mercy to his neck.

“Y/n…” Rin groans ten minutes later. His hands grip her hips, desperately guiding her to rock herself over his lap. “’nough…”

She pulls back and admires her work; now she knows how Rin feels. She leans to peck his lips and lifts herself, “all right, let’s eat!”

“What!” His grip on her hips tightens, “no way, you can’t leave me like that.” He looks down at his crotch; the outlining of his thick cock is visible against his joggers.

“But… our food will get cold?”

Rintarou chuckles, “no way, baby, food can wait… not me.”

Y/n squeal when he pushes her onto the table, grabs the end of her yoga pants, and tugs them off in one go. He pulls her panties aside and pulls cock out enough to slowly thrust into her pussy.

“Ah… Rin,” she moans, gripping the edge of the table. “Fuck… yes…”

His thrusts are slow and deep. “You had me worrying for no reason…” he leans over and grips her jaw to kiss her deeply, “I’ll show them – “ he speeds up his thrusts, “I’ll show them I’m yours… only yours….”

All the rubbing and rocking over him stimulated her, and Y/n was close until Rin pulled out of her. “Rin?”

He maneuvers her onto her front side and smacks her ass before getting down on one knee. He pulls her panties off and smothers his face into her core, slurping, sucking, and biting.

“Rin!”

He squeezes her cheeks hard, taking a bite on each side before standing back up, “need to mark you as mine too…” he guides his cock back home and thrusts fast and hard.

Their kitchen echoes with skin slapping skin and the kitchen table squeaking.

“I’m so… I’m so close baby…” Rin groans, and seconds later, hips jerking and cock spasming as he cums inside.

Rin withdraws; his eyes are fixated and anticipating as his cum drips out.

A minute later, after catching each other’s breath, Rin whispered, “baby?”

Y/n turns to look over her shoulders, clearly in bliss. “Yes?”

“Bed?”

“Yes, please…”

.

“Today, my baby packed me my favorite… jelly fruit sticks!”

Y/n sipped her morning coffee and tapped the heart on the video before clicking on the comment button.

Those are my favorites too!

You’re like an excited schoolboy about their lunches!

Is no one going to talk about it?...

Suna-san… what are those marks on your neck?

Are those… hickies?

Those are definitely hickies… wow… his girlfriend is kinky…

. . .

@hellatrashdontask @queenelleee @wrongimagine @eadyladlegard @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @satoritendoucultsacrifice @yourgonvermnethooker @littlemochi @cloud-lyy @pana-dolle @basmamme @haitanifxn @itsroseally @warrior-of-justice @jmnfilter @captainchrisstan @omissanitizerlol

[moviestarmartini]

yellow flowers. — jude bellingham x gf!reader

él sabía, ella sabía y se olvidaron de sus flores amarillas.

summary: how can your relationship recover from such a serious argument the night before?

wc: 975

warnings: angst, not that much dialogue, like three words in spanish, established long-term relationship.

A/N: WHAAAAT?? GIGI POSTING TWICE IN A DAY??? its more likely than you think! thank las flores amarillas hehe.

now playing... flores amarillas from floricienta

The fight was stupid, really. 

You both had to admit it was. Even then, that doesn’t take away the fact it snowballed into issues each of you held back for what seemed ages, and only ended up with Jude slamming the door on the way out of your apartment. 

After hours of crying, your own exhaustion from the ordeal lulled you to sleep. When you rose up in the morning, neither your mind nor your body prepared for the fact it was a Saturday. 

Nor the fact everyone and their mothers were receiving yellow flowers, something you’d always craved but were always just another bystander. 

If you listened to that song again you might just rip your hair off. 

You had a whole day planned with Jude after the game, he wanted to do something special, but the fact you couldn’t hold back your jealousy the night before was more than enough to dampen the idea, whatever it was. 

For a second, you tried to put things on the positive side. A self-care day. In theory it was wonderful, but the second you sat alone in the bubbly bathtub, you broke down in tears. 

You’d been together for years. You changed your whole life around him, learning German to go to school in the same country and planning your masters in Spanish. Maybe that was part of the reason he called you spineless; you adapted to other’s needs and perspectives easier. His words bounced around your head, each reminder taunting you more. 

To top it all off, Spotify seemed to have a vendetta against you, your daylist was insanely depressing. 

“Is this because he plays for Real Madrid?!” You spoke out into the world, growing frustrated with your situation. 

That did spark an idea in your brain; or more of a reminder. 

Jude had a game today. And you weren’t going to be there to watch him. That just made you jump out of the bath, get changed into decent clothes and leave the house for once to watch him at your best friend’s house upon her request, miserably so even when the team got their footing back up— knowing you should be in the stands cheering him on. But alas, you weren’t.

And you wondered if you would ever be again. 

The moment he fell clutching his shoulder, your heart stopped. Tears welled in your eyes but you avoided letting them escape, remembering the long hours of work and recovery, the utter joy you felt when he informed both you and the team he was comfortable playing without the big chunky brace again. All that, and it crumbled down right before your eyes, like your relationship. 

Still, you didn’t hesitate on reaching for your phone, not finding any elation on the team’s victory. 

[ I know you don’t want to see or hear from me ] 

[ But how’s your shoulder? I’m seriously concerned ] 

You knew he wasn’t going to reply right away, and when your companion found out who you’d texted, she ripped the phone out of your hands and put it away for the reminder of your evening laced with white wine and take out sushi. 

“Thank you for releasing me, master.” You joked by the time she gave you the mobile back, swallowing hard upon seeing Jude hadn’t replied. 

He hadn’t even read it. 

Now you were actually panicking, swallowing down the tears in the Uber and wishing the small elevator could go fast enough that you didn’t break down somewhere that wasn’t in the comfort of your home. 

You were overwhelmed enough that you didn’t even take into account your door was unlocked when you clearly left it locked, nor the warm light coming from the tiny space under the doorframe. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Were the first words you registered before your eyes caught the indoor prairie your boyfriend had installed in your living room in the shape of yellow daisies. 

Your eyes trailed the hundreds of petals before your eyes finally fell on him, scanning from his toes up to the apologetic expression he was carrying. Now it all made sense; your friend insisted on getting you out of the house for this. He didn’t reply because of this. 

Though your heart was running at a whopping speed of thirty miles per second, your feet took you painfully slow— cautiously— towards him. You were still marveled, carefully watching where your sneakers landed to avoid stepping on the beautiful work he’d planned for you. 

“Perdón,” Jude repeated, as if the words in Spanish meant so much more than the English language. He opened his mouth for what seemed to be a rant, but the way you squeezed the life out of him with a desperate hug left him speechless, followed by your hugs. 

“I thought you— you were going to dump me and I would have to move back home and— and I can’t imagine that because I love you so much and that’s why I was scared!” You babbled between hiccups, trying to calm yourself down before his gentle hands cupping your face did the job spectacularly. 

“I would be such a fuckin’ idiot to do that.” He couldn’t help but let out a laugh, not at you nor your claims, but at how ridiculous he had been. 

“Te perdono,” You sniffled, your bottom lip still puckered up ever so slightly. 

“But what’s all this?” You turned to look at the scene, something straight out of a Van Gogh painting. 

“You thought I forgot with the thousand TikToks you sent me on this day?” He leaned in to kiss your forehead before pulling you into another warm hug. 

“I also watch Gilmore Girls whenever you do. Whoops.” 

Your laugh echoed as you snuggled closer to him in your upright position, being extremely thankful the last sentence of the song wasn’t your reality.

A/N: if y'all seriously thought it wasn't going to have a happy ending you clearly don't know me well enough rip

[serendipityandbenevolence]

Capitano x GN Reader (SAGAU)

Am I writing this nearly a year after I said I would? Yes. My bad gang, the procrastination got the better of me. Honestly, looking back over my old writing on this account, I’m shocked I didn’t do Capitano sooner because I was/am obsessed with this tall, beefy man. (ngl, while reading some of my old writing, i was kicking my feet a little, past me was lowkey good at writing when I wanted to be). This is loosely based around what I was planning on writing for him last year, so hopefully it fits well into the story?

Contains - Capitano being actually so whipped for you, him trying to keep his distance and failing miserably, he ignores you for like a minute and you end up contemplating your life choices (real, i'm so not projecting here), he is very insecure about not being good enough for you (despite being the perfect man), dottore is lowkey more likeable here than in his own ending, mentions of murder, obsessive behaviour from all the fatui

Part one is here - the masterlist for the other endings is here

“Capitano?”

It almost surprised you quickly the Harbingers fell silent, as though even one word from you had stolen the air from their lungs, their arguments trailing away into a deafening silence. You waited, a confusing mix of anticipation and fear filling your chest as you stared at the half-opened door.

But no one came.

There were soft whispers and retreating footsteps, shadows that crept across your room as people bustled around in the hallway (Was it a hallway? Or another room? You couldn’t be certain). You heard a cold female voice giving hushed orders, but even her voice faded as you waited uneasily for some recognition of your words, of your pleading call for Capitano.

But no one came.

He had been there, outside your door, you knew that for certain. You heard him, condemning the other nations for attacking you, another Harbinger had even called him by name. So why was is, that when you called his name, he did not answer? Was he too busy, too disinterested, too proud, to speak with you? The door remained unmoving, and you began to wish that you had never said anything in the first place, even as you refused to look away from the door.

But no one came. 

It had been a mistake, you decided. Whatever offence you had somehow caused him was clearly great enough for him to ignore you, to reject your pleading request for him, to turn his back on the chambers that you rested in. Perhaps, when the other Harbingers returned, you could ask them to pass along your sincerest apologies to your favourite Harbinger (although you would not mention that he was your favourite to them). Maybe that would heal whatever rift had apparently formed between-

“Your Grace?”

Capitano stood in the doorway, straight-backed and with his hands clenched at his sides. Even a cursory glance could tell you that he was not thrilled about having to be in your presence.

“I’m sorry for my tardiness. I was asking the other Harbingers if any of them were able to attend to you in my stead, but it seems they are … unavailable.”

He slowly stepped into the room and made his way over to the fireplace, keeping a large distance between the two of you as he did so, refusing to step too close to the bed you sat in. 

“If you have any pressing concerns or questions, I can pass them along to the other Harbingers or to the Tsaritsa. I’m afraid that I will be of little help to you, but I will see to it that the others are aware of your needs.”

This was worse than being ignored, you decided. His cold, impersonal words, his desire to keep his distance from you, even his stiff posture, it also pointed to one thing. He hated you. He could barely stand to be in a room with you, let alone make conversation with you. 

You felt silly all of a sudden, for thinking that your favourite character would hold any sort of affection towards you. You felt a sudden tightness in your throat, and had to fight back the tears that threatened to appear.

“I’m very sorry to bother you so trivally, Capitano. I had just wished to speak to you, but if you are busy, I will not keep you. Please, return to your duties.”

You were impressed by how steady you were able to keep your voice, even as you still fought back tears. But Capitano did not move, instead he almost seemed to tense up more. 

“I did not mean-” To your shock his voice wavered more than yours and his composed facade seemed to crumble in an instant.

“It is not that I do not wish to serve you, I just… I don’t … I can’t…”

He hesitantly took a step forward, then another, before falling to his knees by your bedside. You watched, mind still reeling at how quickly his demeanour had changed, as his shaking, gloved hands clutched at his chest, as though he feared his heart might stop at any moment.

“Please, I beg you, do not hate me! I could not- I cannot live with myself if you think I adore anyone or anything else more than you. But I cannot serve you, I am not worthy. I failed you, when you arrived at Zapolyarny Palace, I was unable to help you! I am-”

His frantic words were cut off with a sudden sob, and tears began to appear at the bottom of his mask, dripping down his chin. His breaths were shallow and desperate, with his hands upon his chest digging into his flesh more with every passing moment. 

“Capitano…” You whispered softly, still trying to make sense of his suddenly erratic behaviour, while also wanting to soothe whatever pain he was suffering. 

“I am not like the other Harbingers. I am useless to you, Divine One. When you were brought to the palace, I was asked to bring you upstairs, so the Doctor could operate on you, but I was too scared. I feared that if I touched you, you would shatter to pieces in my grasp. My hands were not made to be gentle and you were already so close to death, I could not do it. The boy, Tartaglia, was the one who carried you in the end. I was too cowardly.”

“You don’t need to compare yourselves to the others, Capitano. You were merely concerned for my safety.”

“You do not understand. The Doctor brought every one of his segments home so they could operate on you together. When your wound became infected and a fever took you, Signora lay by your side and kept you cool, even as your skin burned. Pantalone has not slept since you arrived and he will not sleep, he says, until your chambers are furnished to perfection. Arlecchino has sent out every member of the House of the Hearth to kill those who dared to harm you, with orders to return with their heads as proof. And I sit here, idle, unable to assist you. The reason the other Harbingers could not attend to you, is because they are already doing so. I fail you, Your Grace, by being unable to find a way of serving you!”

You found yourself quite lost for words, unsure of how to respond to Capitano’s increasingly defeated behaviour. You weren’t really sure what you expected from The Captain, but this was definitely not it. His sadness and self-loathing made you want to ease his mind somehow, to find him a purpose that would hopefully make him, your favourite, feel more wanted. 

“I think … I think I might sleep now, Capitano.”

He merely nodded, before turning his face away from you and shakily standing once more.

“But-!” You lunged forward, grabbing him by his arm before he could move out of your grasp. His head whipped around, mask concealing whatever emotions his face might have shown.

“But I was wondering if you might stay? With all those people who tried to kill me, I would feel quite unsafe, sleeping alone and defenceless. I need someone strong to protect me and how fortunate am I that you do not have other duties to attend to, but can instead stay by my side!”

You paused, holding your breath, hoping that would be enough to convince him. He stared at you (at least, you assumed he was staring at you, the mask made it difficult) for a long moment, long enough that you began to wonder if he had even heard you properly.

“You want me to protect you, Your Grace? I… Yes. Yes, I can do that. Just- Just give me a moment.”

And he was gone, his arm pulled from your grasp, and his cloak swishing out the door. You barely had time to wonder what he had left for, before he returned. With a chair under one arm and a truly massive blade under the other, he swiftly reentered the room, positioning the chair right beside your bed. 

“There. Is that all right, Divine One? Do you need me to sit closer, or further away?”

“No, no, it’s fine, Capitano.” You laughed, grateful that he seemed more … positive? At the very least, he didn’t appear to be as miserable as before.

You lay back down, turning to face Capitano, who was balancing the sword across his lap as he watched you. Under normal circumstances, the idea of sleeping in the same room as somebody with a sword would have freaked you out, but with the stress of the last few days catching up to you, you found yourself more tired than you had realised.

You stretched a hand out towards Capitano wordlessly, who eyed it apprehensively.

“Can you hold my hand?”

He stared at your hand for a few more moments, before slowly placing his own hand upon yours, so softly that you could barely feel it. 

“Sweet dreams, Your Grace.”

Finally, we got there! Hopefully yall like this, i feel like the ending is a bit rushed, but god I love a man who pines. I’m probably going to write Pantalone next, this lowkey gave me some ideas for his ending. I’m also thinking about writing some non sagau stuff, I've got some thoughts about arranged marriage stuff with diluc and ayato <3

[goodlucktai]

now the darkness comes alive

rise of the tmnt movie canon divergence word count: 10k characters: raph & leo

welcome to a very self-indulgent roleswap au that i started dreaming up in my friend’s turtle discord. big thank you to rem for the song rec that gave me the insp to finish (and name!) the fic, and also to lake, sara and meeks for enabling my insane behavior <3

oh, now the darkness comes alive it comes for me and i come for you

—brother, the rural alberta advantage

read on ao3

x

The Krang’s spike pierces through plastron and flesh with a sickening crunch and Leo makes an awful punched-out sound. Raph is seconds too slow, and seconds is all it takes for his entire world to end. 

For the past two years, they’ve been at constant odds, Leo going out of his way to undermine and annoy him. Every interaction was laced with frustration, hurt, worry, confusion. Why are you being like this? Raph wanted to ask, wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake until an answer came out. What did I do to you?

It was a miserable way to live. Being angry at someone you love more than anything, having nowhere to put it down, forced to hold onto it and hold onto it and hold onto it. Every day another argument, every night laying awake and hoping that tomorrow would be different. 

He missed Leo. He missed how they used to be. He didn’t know why Pops’ announcement had turned them against each other. He hadn’t thought anything would be able to do that. 

Once or twice Raph had a moment of weakness and imagined what it would be like if he just quit. If he went to Splinter and told him he was done. Let someone else be the oldest, the biggest, the one who carried everyone else. But that thought was always followed instantly by another, louder one—how small would he feel if he didn’t have little turtles climbing on his back and sitting on his shoulders? How empty would his arms be if he didn’t have anyone to carry in them? 

That’s the whole point. That’s why he’s so afraid. That’s why being left alone drives him straight past anxious and into a blackout. He can’t lose them. He can’t lose them. He can’t lose them. 

And now he’s living his worst nightmare. He’s living outside his own body, watching from somewhere else. It doesn’t feel real. 

His little brother, his little Leo, crumpled beneath him, blood staining bright blue an ugly rust color. His chest is heaving as if each breath hurts and his eyes are wide and wet. He’s gazing up at Raph like they’re children again. It’s the way he looked when he was afraid of a thunderstorm or he was about to get in trouble and he needed Raph to make it better. He always looked at Raph first. 

The monsters behind them are laughing. One of them starts talking, the sound coming closer at a leisurely pace. They aren’t safe. Leo is bleeding. Raph is afraid to touch him, shaking hands hovering over his cracked plastron. He doesn’t know what to do. His mind is white with panic. 

He has the escape pod in his hand, not yet activated. He doesn’t know if it’s safe to use it. Leo is skewered to the ground, pinned like a butterfly to corkboard. Donnie’s tech is highly intuitive, all of it programmed into S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s AI infrastructure, and maybe the pod would know to account for the particulars of the situation, but there almost definitely isn’t a way to remove Leo safely in the seconds they don’t really have to work with. 

Leo blinks, and the wetness in his eyes spills out, and Raph just wants to pick him up. Carry him somewhere safe. Leo has always been larger than life, but right now he looks impossibly small. 

“Hey, hey,” Raphael soothes, the same way he has a thousand times before, after bad dreams and skinned knees, “you’re okay. Raph’s here, you’re okay.”

Those gold eyes slide to the side, looking at a point behind Raph. Leo’s arm moves, and something cold and solid presses against Raph’s chest. It’s the key, and Leo’s hand is trembling so hard that Raph’s closes around it instinctively, taking the weight of it from him. 

Because he’s Leo, the corners of his mouth quirk into a smile. 

“I told you,” he says hoarsely. It somehow manages to sound wry, like they’re in on a joke together. “I got it.”

Then he uses the hand that Raph isn’t holding to activate the escape pod lingering between them and pushes it those scant few fatal inches forward. Raph doesn’t realize what the beep means until the pod unfolds in front of him and yanks him unceremoniously away from his brother.

“No,” Raph says, light-headed with fear, “no!” 

But a machine couldn’t possibly understand the wrong it was doing. What it was leaving behind. Raph pummels the inside of the pod hysterically but without his ninpo he can’t do enough to damage something Donnie built specifically to safeguard their family. It lifts him up and away and Leo’s crooked little smile gets smaller and smaller until it’s gone.  

——

When the pod touches down in the lair and releases him, the world around Raph is strangely muffled. There’s a ringing in his ears. He thinks he can hear voices but it’s all just noise. Nothing fully clears the chaos in his own head. 

Donatello is directly in front of him, and his hands are white-knuckled on the side of an empty blue pod. He looks like he already knows something went very wrong. His eyes are bright gold, a mirror of his twin’s, and the quiet fear in them places Raph directly back inside the warehouse, surrounded by monsters, too late to protect anyone, Leo’s blood on his hands, Leo looking up at him— 

Raph’s stomach lurches and he turns sharply away. His gaze lands on Casey Jones instead, who appraises him warily in turn, slim shoulders going stiff beneath the battered Genius Built armor. 

“Leo went back for the key,” Raph says, his voice a deep growling thing that cuts through the noise and brings down a curtain of stillness. He holds the stupid thing out, and if it were made of anything less than strange alien stone, his grip would have crushed it into pieces. Casey’s eyes drop to it and brighten, like it’s a good thing that it’s here even though Leo’s not. Relief floods every inch of his face until he looks even younger than he did already. 

“He got it,” the boy says reverently, taking it in both hands. “I knew he would.”

Raphael wants to scream. He wants to step back and let some other version of himself take the reins while he finds a hole to cry in. He doesn’t want to turn at his father’s firm call of his name or force himself to lift his chin until Splinter can meet his eyes and find all the miserable failure festering inside him, but he does. 

April is looking around and behind Raph, her eyes jumping to the red pod still standing open and then back again, as if finally noticing that Leo wasn’t tucked in there, too. As if it is only just occurring to her that there is a universe that exists where Raphael leaves Leonardo behind, and it’s this one, and it’s horrible. 

Donnie might as well be carved from stone, but Mikey is starting to get worked up, looking between everyone else with huge red eyes, trying to hear the thing they’re all not saying.

“He went back for the key,” Raphael says again, choking the words out. “I couldn’t—I wasn’t fast enough to—”

He clenches his fists and it drags his siblings’ attention to the blood on them. April covers her mouth and Mikey takes in a breath so sharp it must cut and Donnie starts to flap his hands. Splinter closes his eyes, looking as though he’s aged about a hundred years in the last few minutes. 

“What? That’s not possible,” Casey interjects as if he can’t help it. The young soldier glances around the room, like Leo is going to pop up from behind the turnstiles and rib them all for being so gullible. “Master Leonardo is the greatest ninja the world has ever seen, he wouldn’t just—”

“He’s not master anything!” Raph only barely manages not to roar. “He’s a sixteen-year-old kid!”

Casey flinches away from his anger and Raphael brutally wrestles it into submission. It’s not doing any good here. Casey is a kid, too. 

“Raph,” Mikey blurts, too loud and too fast, “is Leo dead?”

The word sucks the air out of the room and Donnie makes a noise like he’s been kicked in the stomach and Raph says, “No. No, Angie, he’s alive.” 

Even though their ninpo is locked away, and with it that subconscious knowledge of each other always lingering comfortably in the back of their minds like a warm afterthought, Raph knows they would know if Leo was gone. They would be able to tell. The world would be fundamentally changed, nothing would ever be the same again. 

He puts his hands on Mikey’s shoulders and adds, “We’re gonna bring him home.” 

The plan isn’t much of one, but their resident schemer is very much not present, and no one questions Raph when he lays it out. Donnie robotically admits that he has the means to track Leo, so the turtles and Future Boy are going to head that way and retrieve him, while Splinter and April babysit the key. 

“Use the shell hogs and just keep moving for now,” Raph says. “They have something we want, we have something they want.”

April nods, grimly understanding. If the only Hail Mary shot they have of getting their brother back is handing over the key and finding an opening to steal it back later, that’s just what they’ll have to do. 

Pops abandoned the Hamato Clan’s teachings in the first place because he didn’t agree with their preachings of self-sacrifice and martyrdom. He handed over the final piece of the dark armor without flinching when his sons’ lives hung in the balance. Even if the rest of their ancestors wouldn’t understand, Raphael does. 

He remembers the jar of oozesquitos he held onto once, trying—and failing—to call Draxum’s bluff. He may be a slow learner, but he only needs to be taught the lesson once. 

Leo risked his life to return this key to his family, so Raph is going to fight for it like an insane person for as long as it makes sense to. But if it comes down to abandoning one to save the other…

He’s his father’s son. He knows which choice he’ll make. 

——

In the Turtle Tank, Mikey and Donnie distract themselves on the trip to Metro Tower station by peppering Casey with questions about the future. The human answers readily, describing Master Donatello’s technological genius—holding out his arms so the entirety of his battered, cyberpunk-style kit is on display—and going on at length about Master Michelangelo’s mystic prowess. 

“I could fly?” Mikey squeaks, drumming his hands on the dash rapidly. “Was it cool?” 

“The coolest,” Casey is quick to agree. “And you opened a portal that sent me through time.”

But the warmth in Casey’s eyes doesn’t last very long, fading into something that looks uncomfortably like grief instead. He tends to look at all of them like that, like he’s in a room full of ghosts. 

He darts a sidelong glance in Raph’s direction and quickly faces forward again, staring out the windshield from Leo’s seat. He’s avoided speaking to him as much as possible, and Raphael can, unfortunately, put two and two together. 

Casey is familiar with everyone else—even April and Splinter—but he dances around Raph as if he’s a stranger. He didn’t know Raph in the future, he knew of him—someone to be respectful of and fall in line for, but certainly not one of the uncles he could brag about to their younger selves. 

When the Tank has gone as far through the tunnels as possible, drawn to a stop at a massive tangle of alien vines, they get out and continue on foot. Raph can feel his little brothers walking as close to him as they can without outright admitting that they’re unnerved, all of their guards completely up, senses dialed to eleven. 

The underground is home to them, always has been, and generally speaking if you’ve seen one subway tunnel you’ve seen them all. But the floodlights from Donnie’s battleshell illuminate a scene that looks like it belongs on another planet. Impossible masses of pink-purple mess dangle everywhere like Halloween store decorations, and the subway cars have been upended off the rails and twisted out of shape. 

Casey’s mask is down, the lenses glowing green as he prowls forward without missing a beat. If he came here from a future where the Krang won, Raph can only imagine what the New York City he grew up in looked like. 

“I hate to be painfully obvious, but since my other half isn’t present, I suppose it falls on my shoulders,” Donatello says after a moment, the sardonic tone of voice at odds with his very low register. “Something feels off.” 

He’s barely got the words out when hundreds of little lights blink at them from the jungle of purple vines—not lights, glowing eyes. The silent tunnel explodes into chaos a second later as they’re ambushed by parasite-controlled people and creatures and even objects. 

Raph and Casey are neatly separated from Donnie and Mikey within a manner of minutes. Raph’s heart is in his throat as he pummels through wave after wave of the infected, and it doesn’t settle until he hears on the comms that his little brothers have taken shelter in the Tank. 

He and Casey are pushed farther and farther away, chased down one of the tunnels by an animated subway car on what looks like spidery crab legs, towards a dead end. When Raphael feels the ground start to give beneath them, he acts on seventeen years of big brother instinct and very little else, seizing Casey around the middle and curling around him completely as they fall. 

It’s a dizzying, topsy-turvy couple of minutes, falling from the subway tracks into a maintenance tunnel underneath, and it takes awhile for his ears to stop ringing. He glances down at the human in his arms and notes with relief that Casey seems to be okay–tucked up small and compact against Raph’s plastron, all limbs accounted for, in such a practiced way that Raph thinks he’s been protected in exactly this manner more than once before. 

Neither of them speak right away, coming down from the rush of adrenaline and waiting for the shifting of crumbled concrete to stop and the dust to clear. Raph’s shell was made of sturdy stuff even before he became a chaotic alchemists’s bioengineering experiment, so when he’s certain they’re relatively safe, he pushes off the ground with his hands and lets the debris roll harmlessly off his back and shoulders. 

“Are you hurt?” Raph asks, sitting back to give Casey room to collect himself. 

“Um, no,” Casey says, tugging his cape down from where it had caught around one of his pauldrons. He doesn’t look uncomfortable, but more like he doesn’t really know what to do with himself now that it’s just the two of them, looking up at Raph and then away again. 

Raph can’t help it. He says, “I died, didn’t I? In the future.”

Casey jerks, as if he was surprised to be asked so plainly. Then his shoulders hunch, and he nods. 

“You all did,” he says haltingly. “Uncle Tello when I was thirteen, and sensei and Uncle Angie just… just before I got sent back.” 

Cold dread slams into Raph’s stomach. He doesn’t want to believe he and his siblings could ever truly be divided, but the proof is sitting in front of him. It’s hard to hear that the end of the world managed to take Raph from his little siblings. Donnie from his twin. That Leo and Mikey were left all alone, with a kid to take care of, and a losing war to fight. 

Casey swallows hard, and curls his hands into fists, visibly forcing himself past the loss that probably sits in his stomach and throat like barbed wire. 

“But you—it happened when I was little. I wasn’t really old enough to remember you.” Each word mincing and careful, he goes on, “Growing up, sensei talked about you all the time. He used to say you were the best—best brother, best leader. And he was so afraid when Master Splinter put him in charge, because he had no idea how to be as good as you. He didn’t want things to change, he was happy being your right-hand man. Sensei made it sound like he was really childish about the whole thing. He said he must have been a real disappointment.”

Raphael absorbs the words like a blow. 

Leo, his little brother, his little star, outshining everyone and pulling the world into his orbit, earnestly giving them the light and warmth they needed to live and grow and flourish, a disappointment?

Raph has been angry with him more times than he can count. Hurt by him, even, because that’s what people tend to do when they don’t understand each other. Frustrated and antagonized and fed-up, sure. But disappointed?

He has a shining, crystalized memory of being a child, no more than eight years old, crying over a picture book because the monster in the book looked like him. It was big and hulking, with dangerous-looking spikes and an alligator tail. Raph hadn’t realized Leo had found him until tiny hands took the book away and a serious little face, not yet grown into its stripes, assessed the situation. 

Even back then, Leo was too clever for his own good. He tossed the book on the floor and said, “They got it wrong. That author must not have ever seen any real monsters if they can mess up that bad. Who let them write a book?”

Raph was hardly able to see through his tears, making a distressed rumble in his chest, but his arms opened automatically. Mikey was in a phase where he had decided he was too big to be carried and Donnie had a hot-and-cold relationship with touch that his siblings all knew to maneuver carefully, but Leo absorbed any and all affection like a hungry little plant soaking up sunlight. He climbed right into Raph’s hug and his arms looped around Raph’s neck and hung on fiercely. 

“My Raphie is a better hero than all those knights and princes and wizards anyway,” Leo had said with conviction so huge it was better suited to someone five times his size. “I have the real deal. I should be the one writing books!”

From then on, Leo vetted any and all shared reading material that made it down to the lair before allowing it to be distributed with a very grown-up gravitas. Some things went straight to Donnie or Mikey’s rooms, or back into the garbage if Leo was feeling vicious about it that day, and no one ever said a word about it. 

About three months ago, April had brought them a bundle of the subscriptions they got mailed to her apartment, and Leo picked up a comic that came for Raph and started to flip through it like they were seven and eight years old again. He caught himself too late and looked embarrassed, sliding it across the counter and quickly making his escape, but Raph felt warm all the way down to his bones. That was proof his Leo was still in there, that he still cared, despite doing his best, for some reason, to convince everyone he didn’t. 

His Leo, who always cared. Who cared too much. 

Casey gives Raph another one of those searching, sideways glances, there and gone again. 

“Sensei said he let you down once and he never wanted to do that again. He said he would live the rest of his life making up for it, making you proud. Is—is this what he was talking about?”

Raph looks at the boy in front of him, Leo’s kid from a future that doesn’t exist yet, wearing tech his Uncle Tello must have meticulously built to outlast everything else, Uncle Angie’s smiley faces etched into the knee guards in a pop of silliness that somehow still existed in the apocalypse, his sensei’s red stripes painted proudly front and center on his mask. He carries his family with him with every step he takes.

It’s no wonder Casey is so cagey around him. If he was raised even in part by Leo, then he was probably raised on stories of Raph that only painted the good and the funny parts of the bad, because that’s how Leo loves. And it left Casey to reconcile how everyone’s hero Raphael could have ever thought poorly of Casey’s hero Leonardo. 

“Sounds like that sensei of yours had no clue what he was talking about half the time,” Raph say gruffly. “Raph may wanna pick up him and rattle him like a snowglobe about a hundred times a day but that’s just the Leo Effect. Ask anybody.” 

Casey blinks up at him, one corner of his mouth giving into a reluctant smile. “Commander O’Neil said that before,” he admits. 

“Now her you can listen to any time of day or night, because she’s never wrong,” Raph says, pushing himself upright and offering Casey a hand up, too. “Leo could never do anything to make me love him less. It kind of seems impossible after a lifetime together, but I actually only keep finding reasons to love him more.”

Sliding his much smaller hand into Raph’s huge one, Casey lets himself be tugged to his feet. He’s gazing up at Raph with wide eyes, tugging on the wrist of one glove absently. 

“Leo is as silly as they come,” Raph says. “He needs practical people like you and me in his life to set him straight.”

All at once, Casey’s face brightens, glowing from the inside out. His spine straightens, shoulders going back. It’s every inch Leo’s expression when he receives honest praise from his family in any direction. And Raph realizes abruptly that at least part of the reason Casey has been so nervous around him is because he doesn’t want to disappoint his father’s hero, either. 

——

They find a maintenance shaft and climb the rest of the way out of the tunnels, regrouping with the whole clan in the Metro Tower station. Donnie brings Leo’s location up on a screen and they all huddle around him—falling silent after a moment as they take in what the tracker is telling them. 

“He’s right—right on top of us,” Donnie says haltingly. “He should be—”

April seizes his arm and he cuts himself off mid-word. With a sense of dread, Raph follows her wide eyes across the room. 

Leo is standing there, watching them. He’s been standing there the whole time. Unmoving, completely silent, and covered in the same squishy, fleshy pink parasitic slime that every other infected they’ve encountered up until now has been manipulated by. There’s a mass of it concealing the lower half of his face like one of the respirators Mikey wears for his spray paint projects, baring dozens of large serrated teeth in a sneer. 

Leo’s eyes are pink, the pupils slitted. If Raph couldn’t see him breathing, he wouldn’t know for sure if he was even alive. 

“Leo?” Mikey calls out in a warbling voice, hands trembling. “Can you hear us?” 

It doesn’t get a reaction. 

Raph takes one slow, careful step towards him.

That gets a reaction. 

Leo explodes into motion so quickly it doesn’t make sense, going from zero to a hundred in seconds. He slams into Raphael with the force of a freight train, sparks flying from where his blades meet the sai Raph only barely manages to throw up in time. 

Their siblings scatter, Donnie yanking Mikey firmly behind him, April putting out an arm to keep Casey back, too. Splinter dives in to help his oldest son, the two of them fighting to subdue but not to injure, hyper-aware of the cracks in Leo’s plastron and the matching wound on his shoulder. The last thing Leo’s father and big brother want to do is hurt him any more. 

Leo doesn’t give them an inch of the same consideration, as cold and methodical as a knife. His swords are fully in action, a very present danger to the rest of them, singing and sweeping with fatal precision. 

They’re only fighting for minutes, even though it feels like hours, when Raphael feels it. An insistent tugging on the front of his mind. He and Leo are locked together, swords caught for a moment in the guards of Raph’s sai, and Raph spares a daring second to look into his possessed brother’s pink eyes. 

They glow white instantly, a successful connection. Leo’s mind pours into Raph’s like a flood. 

Take them take them TAKE THEM TAKE THEM TAKE THEM 

As if moving on autopilot, Raph’s hands fly to Leo’s wrists and wrench—not hard enough to sprain, but hard enough that the slider’s grip flies open and the katana clatter to the ground. Leo rips himself free and darts back to give himself room for the next attack. He makes no move to recover the swords and Raph scoops them up a second later, heart pounding. 

It was so quick, so clean, that no one watching from the outside would be able to guess what had just happened. Leo surrendered his weapons to his family in the only way he possibly could, begging with his whole body to be disarmed before he hurt anyone, so desperate for Raph to hear him that he triggered a mind meld for the first time in two years.  

The room comes alive, infected creatures spilling inside and surrounding them all, punching up through the floor from the tunnels they had just escaped from. A subway car covered in pink slime rears back and roars like a beast. Leo moves through the crowd of Hamato like water. The only one he touches is April, a brush of their shoulders together.

She makes a distressed noise in the back of her throat, hand flying to her bag where the key is. Where it was.  

Leo has it in his hand, facing them with unseeing eyes. The grotesque, fleshy mask covering his mouth twists into a stranger’s ugly smile. 

Raph thinks, No wait. It’s not supposed to happen like this. 

They’re not supposed to lose. 

April uses her bat to knock the rest of the deforestation chemicals toward the Krang, causing an explosion that stalls the hoard of infected just long enough to create an escape route. Donnie scoops Mikey’s shell into his arms and Splinter has to tuck a hand around both Casey and Raphael’s elbows and yank to get them moving. Casey doesn’t make it easy.

He must know a losing fight when he sees one. He must be familiar with this scene from the world he came here from. But he struggles anyway, eyes locked without blinking on the shape of a Leo they’re leaving behind. 

Raph wants to struggle, too. He wants to stay behind and fight until he can’t lift his arms or stay on his feet. He wants his lost little brother to know someone’s fighting for him, that someone will keep fighting for him for as long as it takes. 

But responsibility perches heavy on his shoulders. More than one person is depending on him. It’s the hardest thing he’s ever done to let himself be pulled one step away, then another. It hurts more than every single other thing he’s survived. 

“Raph’s coming back for you,” he calls out, voice thick, swords weighing a hundred pounds each in his hands. “Hear me, Leo? Raph’s coming back.”

Leo doesn’t give any impression that he heard. He turns at some silent command and walks away, taking the key with him. The Krang got what they came for. 

——

Kneeling on a rooftop, watching the Technodrome come through a hole in the sky and rain destruction down on their city, Raph finds himself thinking I wish Leo was here. 

It’s a stupid thought to have, because Leo being there would solve a very large part of the whole problem. But specifically, Raph finds himself wishing he had his clever, charming brother at his side, who always knew what to say. Who always had an idea. Who understood exactly how to reach out to people and lift their spirits, rekindle their hope. Leo isn’t the strongest of his brothers, or the fastest without his ninpo, or the smartest next to Donatello, but that doesn’t mean he can’t outshine the rest of them in his own way. 

He’s always been the one they followed, really. It just so happened he was always going the same way Raph was. 

“He was happy being your right-hand man,” Casey said. 

How could Raph have misunderstood him so completely? How could he have just left him behind, twice now? What if it becomes a pattern? What if Leo thinks this is all he can expect from them? 

Raph’s family is arguing behind him, unwilling to accept their failure but unable to see any path ahead to victory. It certainly looks hopeless. New York City is burning, people are screaming, parasites and infected are filling the streets by the dozens. 

A familiar hand lands on his arm. Raph feels like he’s wading chest-deep through mud, but he manages to turn his head and look down into Mikey’s big red eyes. 

“What did Leo say earlier?” Mikey asks in a small voice. “I sort of felt it when you connected but I couldn’t hear either of you.”

“It was like being aware of people talking in another room,” Donnie adds, leaning into Raph from the opposite side. “You can just make out the cadence of their conversation but no words come through clearly.”

Raph looks down at his hands, the katana he’s still holding. He rubs his thumb over the guard on one, remembering Leo’s glowing pride the first time he manifested them. He felt so buoyed by Leo’s smile in that moment that he could have fought the Shredder a hundred times over and won. 

I miss you, he thinks. I miss having you on my team. 

“He wanted me to take these,” Raph says. “He was really scared of what he might do with them.”

Donnie’s golden eyes are very sharp, staring without blinking at the only proof of his twin with them here on the outskirts of the apocalypse. Behind the turtles, Splinter and April are still going back and forth with each other, but Casey’s voice has tapered into silence. 

“What else did he tell you?” Donnie asks abruptly. 

“Nothing,” Raph replies, numb.

“C’mon, Raphie,” Mikey says, mustering a sweet smile for him, even though smiling is probably the last thing in the world he feels like doing. “Our Leo? Keeping it brief? I’ll bet he had a hundred things he was trying to say.”

“Let us in,” Donnie says, pressing his head a little harder into Raph’s arm. Dogged and determined, fully ready to dig in with his teeth and not let up until he gets his way. “Let us see.”

Raphael is exhausted, and hurting, and missing the absent piece of their whole so keenly that he could lay down right here and cry for days. But the one thing he’s never been able to do is deny his little brothers anything they care enough about to ask for this earnestly. 

“Okay,” he says and sets Leo’s swords in front of him carefully. With his hands open, Donnie and Mikey each seize one in both of their own, and Raph tries to center himself. 

The first time Raph and Leo did this, it was well before they had fully realized their ninpo. He doesn’t need the mystic powers they’ve come to rely so much on to recognize the brilliant purple lightning and laughing orange bonfire on the fringes of his mind and let them both in. 

The lightning and the bonfire both skirt familiarly over the steadfast red mountain that makes up their eldest brother, at home together. They all feel the painful absence of a mischievous blue wind so strongly that it takes their collective breath away. 

The mountain guides them to the things the wind had given him. Above everything else, fear—of what’s happened and what hasn’t happened yet, fear of the parasite wriggling inside him, fear of his own two hands, fear of failing his family even more than he already has—

Stop, the bonfire says, burning warm and bright. Focus. 

The lightning strikes forward, knowing the wind better than the rest of them from a lifetime of sharing the same sky. It follows the wind’s twists and turns unerringly, illuminating the way in thunderclaps until it’s possible to break past the dark storm of fear entirely.

Behind it there are a hundred other things. Stubbornness and bitterness, a familiar grit that comes from being on the losing side and refusing to give up anyway. Anxiety that his efforts won’t be enough. Love, as deep and rich and unknowable as an ocean. Regret. Loneliness. Hope. 

Take them, the wind had said in the fleeting seconds it had to say anything at all, shoving as many secrets forward as it could. Take this and this and this and this. 

Leon, you devious little creature, the lightning says, with scorching pride and mean-spirited glee. 

It goes both ways, the bonfire cackles. The Krang can see into Lee’s head, but Lee can see into the Krang’s head, too!

This is it, the mountain realizes. This is how we win.  

——

Galvanized, the Hamatos split up one more time. Casey, April and Splinter to get the key back and keep the Krang occupied, and Raph, Mikey and Donnie to save Leo. 

Once Raph and his brothers are inside the Technodrome, they all understand exactly where to go. Everything the Krang knows about how to operate his ship, Leo knows, through that unwanted window between their minds. And everything Leo knows, he shunted as hard and fast as he could into Raph’s brain, hidden in a tangle of emotion so thick that it went entirely undetected by the parasite riding along. And since Raph shared the knowledge with the other two, Donatello could probably pilot this weird spacecraft blindfolded with one hand tied behind his back.   

Mikey is swinging one of his ‘chucks restlessly, ready for whatever fight comes his way first. He’s already a force to be reckoned with on a good day. He’s a walking natural disaster on a bad one, up there with hurricanes and tornadoes. 

And this is definitely a bad one. It’s the worst day they’ve ever had. 

“Dee’s got the ship and I’ve got Dee,” Mikey says firmly, sounding much older than he did this time yesterday. “You get Leo.”

Raphael moves with ninja stealth and speed, picking his way through the halls. It smells awful, like raw meat left out in the sun, and in the gloom it almost seems as though the walls and floors are squirming. 

From what Leo gave him, Raph knows better than to hope he and his siblings can go undetected for very long. The ship is almost a living organism itself, and can probably feel each step of progress Raph is making toward the bridge. 

It doesn’t slow him down. Every second Leo spends here is a second too long already. 

The maze-like halls open up into a cavernous dome, where a catwalk stretches toward a huge bulbous window. Outside, Raph can see a panoramic view of Manhattan engulfed in fire. It looks like a warzone. The air leaves his lungs in a rush. 

It’s Raph’s city, the place that raised him, and for the first time in his life it’s hard to look at. 

His hindbrain pings to awareness a split-second before he hears the movement of metal against metal, and Raph spins around to look up at General Krang. 

He’s seated in a throne on a dias, a smug, toothy smile on his face. Leo is standing like a statue at his feet, this tiny slip of green and pink and muddied blue. His discolored eyes gaze listlessly forward into nothing. 

Little Leo, who always wanted to be carried. Little Leo, who hunted down each and every opportunity to make his brothers laugh. Little Leo, who wanted so badly to be even just half as important to them as they were to him. Little Leo, who Raph wouldn’t know how to begin to live without. 

“You again,” the Krang says. “Nothing smart to say? This one wouldn’t shut up until I improved him. And here I thought it was just an unfortunate hallmark of your species.”

Raphael sees red at the way the wicked metallic fingertips of the Krang’s armor cage Leo’s head and jostle it carelessly, like he’s nothing but a cheap toy. Raph bares his teeth, a furious rumble in his chest, but doesn’t dare to say a single hateful word while Leo’s life is literally held in the Krang’s hand. 

“You probably would have made a much more impressive puppet, with all that brute strength,” the Krang goes on. “Oh well. All in due time.”

The alien must give a nonverbal order, because he retracts his hand and Leo springs forward. 

He doesn’t have his swords anymore, since they’re strapped to Raph’s shell for the time being, but the pink slime has trailed down his arms and tapered into two sharp points that he wields like knives instead. 

They meet in a ringing clash, Raph catching the pink knives with his sai. 

“I know you’re in there,” Raph says. “I know you don’t want to hurt me. It’s okay, Leo. I’m gonna make it okay.” 

The way Leo fights is vicious. He’s fast and he knows where to hit. There’s no joy in his body, no cocky gleam in his eye. Raph can’t help bu remember the way his mind felt when they connected so briefly earlier—the surround-sound of wailing panic and self-hatred, confined behind a stranger’s cold expression. 

Bearing down on his little brother, forcing him to his knees, Raph chokes out, “I’m not leavin’ you behind this time. I’m not goin’ anywhere without you ever again.”

“Empty promises seem to run in your family,” the Krang sneers. 

“He doesn’t know what he’s talkin’ about,” Raph says through gritted teeth. “Don’t listen to him. Just listen to me.”

“Don’t I? Let’s ask the others, shall we?”

Black vines shoot up from the organic mass that makes up the floor of the bridge. Donnie and Mikey are suspended inside them, fighting like animals—Mikey in particular is using language that there is no way Splinter knows he knows. 

“You thought I wouldn’t notice vermin slinking around in my ship?” the General asks. “Is this really the best the three of you can do?”

Leo is scratching and clawing at Raph’s hands, trying to break free of him at any cost. Raph is much bigger and much stronger than he is, and it hurts to hold him down like this, but he knows it would be so much worse to let him go. 

“This whole time, we just weren’t listening to each other,” Raph says, lowering his voice. Everyone else can probably still hear, but he wants Leo to know Raph is talking to him. “Somehow, I convinced myself you didn’t care, when I know better. You care so much it makes the inside of your head a nightmare to live in. The only thing you think about is being good enough for us.”

Leo finally manages to twist free, Raph releasing his arms at the last second when it becomes clear the parasite doesn’t care if its host’s elbow or shoulder gets dislocated. Leo rolls away and comes up on one knee, hand braced beneath him, the other white-knuckled around a knife. 

He can hear the Krang becoming agitated, because Mikey and Donnie refuse to be still. The vines holding them snap and give one after another, faster than they can be replaced. There’s something stirring inside of Raph, too, a fire in his chest that wants to roar to life. 

Leo strikes again. Despite everything, even with all the horrors they’re surrounded by, Raphael wants to smile. 

When they started training together, Leo was the first of the four of them to perfect a technique. Raph lifted him up onto his shoulders in victory and let him crow about it for the better part of an hour, flushed with joy and pride. Since then, Leo has never once landed that particular move wrong. 

An outsider wouldn’t clock that he placed his hand nearly four inches too far to the left, but Raphael knows those four inches made a fatal difference between a bad puncture wound and a severed artery. 

Leo has no true autonomy left but there’s a sliver of him awake behind the wheel. He’s still fighting tooth and nail in there. 

There isn’t any force in the entire goddamn universe prepared for how tricky and stubborn Raph’s little brothers can be. 

“I’m listening now, Leo,” Raph says, alight with how much he loves him. “I’m here. You’re not alone. You’ll never, ever be alone.”

Leo strains forward, dropping the knife and grabbing at Raph’s arm instead. Between one blink and the next, his eyes go from pink to shining gold. 

Raph seizes him, holding his face in the cradle of both hands, his heart soaring around in his chest like a bird. 

“Yes! That’s it! Come on back, big man, Raphie’s got you!”

With a slam, Leo goes to his knees, scrabbling desperately at the fleshy mass on his face. His fingers dig into the slime, but he can’t get a solid enough grasp to tear himself free. His chest is heaving, whole body shaking. He’s fighting so hard but it’s not quite enough. 

And Raph’s ninpo reacts to a sibling in distress the way it did when Raph used it for the first time, breaking past the Krang’s seal like it’s nothing. It surges forward in the shape of a river, finding the familiar place inside of Leo where his connection to their ancestors lives, and making a temporary home there. Raph’s armor limns his brother in rosy red, swelling from underneath his skin in a powerful flood and pushing the parasite out. It loses every inch it had to cling to while Leo continues to pull. 

Finally the worm is ripped completely away, shrieking as it goes, and Leo gasps. He drops the squirming creature and scuttles away from it, gulping in unobstructed air. The corner of his mouth is torn deep and bleeding sluggishly, and his face looks pale and hollow. 

But his eyes are the color they’re supposed to be, and they’re looking right at Raph and seeing him, a connection as meaningful and important as any mind meld.

Because he’s Leo, the first thing he says is, in a croaky, exhausted voice, “Do you have a sword I can borrow?”

Raph barks out a laugh, tears in his eyes. Earlier today he had reached a point where he thought he’d never smile again.

In this moment, he feels like he could hold up the whole sky and grin while he’s doing it. 

Purple and orange spark madly all around them, a lightning storm and a forest fire ready to rain merry hell upon any unfortunate soul in their path, just enough to keep the General busy while Leo finds his footing. 

Raph wants to scoop them all into his arms and carry them someplace safe from all of this, but he knows he can’t. That place doesn’t exist yet. They have to fight for it. 

Leo breathes in deep and lets it go, takes the swords that Raph passes him in hands that don’t shake, and reaches out for his brothers’ light with a light of his own. 

A gale rushes down from the mountain, leading the charge.

“Hey, ugly,” Leo calls out hoarsely, pointing a blade at the Krang. “I’ve been dying to tell you this all day. The decor in here fucking sucks.”

“Oh my god,” Raph says, half despair, half delight. 

Landing beside him, twirling a glowing bo, Donnie stands shoulder to shoulder with his twin and says, “I would cite you ‘time and place’, Nardo, but honestly you have a point.”

“No because it’s so distracting,” Mikey pipes up, dropping weightlessly into a crouch on Raph’s carapace, narrowed eyes glinting in the dim light like a smug cat’s. “Presentation matters! Zero out of ten, would not be held hostage here again.”

“At least it matches the Six Flags Fright Fest he's got going on upstairs.” Leo indicates his own temple with the hilt of one sword. “There’s something to be said for consistency, am I right?”

It’s as much of a hint as it needs to be. The Krang isn’t stupid, which is a big part of the reason why he’s been such a difficult opponent. He understands within the space of a few seconds what Leonardo is saying—what it means for him to have any idea what the Krang’s headspace looks like. This whole time, there has been a subtle, calculative undermining at play right under his nose. 

He clenches those claws into fists that have enough power to bring down skyscrapers. 

“You really don’t know,” the Krang intones ominously, “when to shut your mouth.”

“Says you and everybody else I know,” Leo replies, unflinching and fearless. “Get some new material.”

Raphael gets it now. Maybe he always has. He understands what Splinter was thinking when he looked at Leo, still growing up but ready at sixteen for the beginning of something greater, and decided he should be the one to lead. 

His brothers would follow him anywhere. Raph would walk straight into hell without looking back if that’s where Leo decided to go. 

——

It’s an instant relief to have those singing silver blades back on their side. Leo’s portals open and close with dizzying speed, moving his brothers like chess pieces around a board, somehow keeping track of it all. For a moment, it’s easy to think they might win. 

And then the Krang blows them all away with the flick of his finger. 

Raph thought his world had ended when he was too late to save his brother in the warehouse. Then he realized the world was actually ending in slow stages all around him when he had to leave his brother behind again at the mercy of a monster. 

It turns out the end of the world happens here. On the quiet, abandoned expanse of Staten Island, listening to his little brother’s wrecked voice over the comms say, “Casey, get ready to close the door.”

“I’m ready, sensei!” Casey reports, prompt and reliable. “Tell me when you’re home free!”

There is a split-second of hesitation from Leo—the barest pause, practically nothing—that sends Raph’s heart straight into his throat. Donatello jerks all the way upright from where he was nursing what’s almost definitely a broken wrist, and Mikey goes dangerously still. They heard it, too. 

“Yeah,” Leo says, just barely too late to be believable to the siblings who know him inside and out, “I’ll tell you.”

“Belay that order, Casey,” April cuts in sharply, every inch the Commander she was in another world. “Leonardo, think twice before you lie to me. What’s your play?”

There’s another pause, and Raph can imagine in crystal-clear detail the way Leo’s throat works when he thinks he’s in trouble with their sister, the way he’s probably clenching and unclenching his hands while he wars with that stupid self-inflicted mission to never make himself vulnerable to anyone for anything. 

The little brother need to be liked wins out. Leo admits, “I can’t think of how else to make him stay there.”

The ground falls out from beneath Raph’s feet. 

“No!” Mikey shrieks, fully at his limit of shit he’s willing to deal with. “No no no no!”

“Sensei I can’t just—I won’t just trap you in the Prison Dimension!” Casey says, horrified at what he was almost tricked into. “There has to be another way!”

“We’ve tried everything,” Leo rasps. “I don’t know what else to do. I can’t let him—let him get you. Any of you. I have to stop him while there’s still a chance.”

“It’ll be a real shame if you save the world from the Krang this way, only for me to destroy it myself when I rip the universe apart to drag your sorry self back here,” Donnie bites out. “And I will, Nardo. I swear to every imaginary higher power you can think of, I will.”

“Leonardo,” Splinter says sternly from April’s end, the leaping panic in his tone well-hidden from everyone but his two eldest, “you will not sacrifice yourself for us today even if it means the world ends tomorrow. That is not what our family does. We are taking you home one way or another, Baby Blue.”

If being in trouble with April is bad, being in trouble with Splinter is cataclysmic. Leo is a daddy’s boy through and through. 

He hesitates again, seconds they don’t have to spare inching by, then says, “How?”

Before anyone can answer there’s a ring of metal and a heavy slam, and his line goes silent. Leo is fighting for his life a thousand feet above their heads, but at least he’s fighting. At least he’s willing to wait for help.

He sounded afraid, Raph can’t help but think. He doesn’t want to go, but he will if he has to. 

“I’ll get him down,” Mikey says, planting his feet, ready to move mountains. “I become a badass mystic warrior at some point, right? Might as well be now.”

“Wait, Uncle—Michelangelo,” Casey blurts, self-correcting a beat too late, “you can’t, when you did it last time, you didn’t survive.”

“If future me can open a portal through time and space and send my entire nephew through safe and sound, all by myself,” Mikey says, “then this me can do at least half of that with my brothers here to help.”

“The math is sound,” Donnie says, eyes trained unblinkingly upwards. “We haven’t met a single universal constant that we haven’t been able to turn upside down and inside out just for fun.”

“I’ve got ‘em, Casey,” Raph adds, his heart going out to the kid who stands to lose his whole family all over again if the wind blows the wrong way. “I’m the biggest, big enough to carry everybody if I have to. Nothing bad’s gonna happen while Raph is here.”

“Oh,” the boy says, very soft. “I remember you saying that.”

“Whatever you’re going to do, do it now!” Leo shouts suddenly, his comm coming back on with a burst of static and a strange ambient whine that must be what the inside of the portal sounds like. “Now, please, now!”

Mikey lights up, a tiny self-made sun of burning, shining gold. He grits his teeth and lifts his hands, trembling under the pressure of the cosmic forces he’s wrestling into submission. Donnie wraps both arms around him and braces his little brother with his entire body, absorbing as much as he can. The feedback is halved instantly, and when Raph steps in and holds them both, it’s reduced even more. 

With a little huff, Mikey works his shoulders, like this is nothing more complicated than the tricky recipe he once found for an eight layer Doberge cake on one of those unreadable walls-of-text baking blogs. If he can figure out that, he can do anything. 

Lightning and fire and rock-solid, steady earth stretch out their hands, reaching past the open gateway and through empty space, searching for the windy blue thing that doesn’t belong in this darkness. 

The wind reaches back eagerly, desperate to be grabbed up and taken home and held forever. 

Inside the Prison Dimension, bright chains flare into existence—some to tangle around the Krang and immobilize him, still more to wrap around Leo’s chest and haul him back through the door while it’s still open, at a reckless, break-neck speed. 

It would have been dangerous for a squishy human, but Leo lands on the surface of the Technodrome in a roll and manages to find his feet. 

“I don’t have a sword,” he blurts, panicked. “I don’t know how to get down.”

Mikey clenches his fists. Ready to open up the portal that killed him in another world, after all, if that’s what it takes to get his big brother down here where he belongs. 

Then Donnie says, “You don’t need to have a sword, dumb-dumb. I have one.” 

It materializes in his hand, a purple construct of one of the matching lightsabers he made for his and Leo’s eleventh birthday. They were very quickly confiscated but Leo laughed like a maniac for the three minutes they had them, and Donnie kept the schematics for a rainy day. 

“Will that work?” Mikey asks, too breathless to sound as terrified as he probably is. 

“It’ll work,” Donnie says shortly. “A sword is a sword. Now’s not the right time to be a snob, Leon. Come here.”

Leo makes a sound halfway between a laugh and a groan and feels for the shared space between them where their ninpo lives, where the mountain and the bonfire and the lightning and the wind all live. Raphael can feel it when that mischievous blue energy finds a brand new rule to bend and decides sure, that sounds fun.  

Runes etch themselves into the handle of the Genius Built lightsaber. 

Raphael shouts, “Casey, now!”

At the same time the looming portal above their heads sends a shockwave over New York City, popping and sparking along the edges like a downed transformer as it shrinks and shrinks until it closes around the Technodrome, a flash of bright cyan heralds the abrupt head-on collision of Leo into Donnie when he swaps places with the sword construct his twin was holding. 

They go down in a haphazard pile of limbs, groaning where they lay on the concrete, and then groaning again when a hundred pounds of little brother gleefully joins the pile with an enthusiastic flop. 

The explosion above them is an afterthought. April and Splinter and Casey are all talking over each other on the comms, frantic for confirmation that they all came out of this alive. That they haven’t lost anything they won’t survive losing. 

“We’re all here!” Mikey says, crowing it to the wide-open, smoke-filled sky. “We won!”

Raph should probably elaborate on that for his dad, sister and nephew’s sake—let them know that everyone’s really okay, describe the little miracles Mikey and Donnie just pulled out of thin air like it was nothing, tell them about Leo trembling like a leaf in the wind but tucked securely into his twin’s side and absorbing the warmth of another living person like it was something he’d always taken for granted before— 

But there’s something else he needs to do first. 

“Noooooooo,” three little turtles protest as their biggest brother rounds out the turtle pile, flattening them to the ground. 

“Tough luck, bozos,” Raph rumbles. “I ain’t lettin’ a single one of you out of my sight ever again.”

Mikey giggles, half-hysterical, a contagious, familiar sound. Donnie shuts his eyes to hear it better. Leo hides his cold face in Raph’s neck and doesn’t say anything else at all. Raph holds them all tight, and imagines a universe where he’s strong enough to never lose them.

Maybe it’s this one. 

——

Casey, who is both medically trained by Leonardo’s future self and entirely immune to the slider’s particular brand of treatment-avoidant bullshit, turns out to be a godsend. Leo uses every trick in the book and still winds up in a bed in the infirmary. 

For someone who craves attention as much as he does, it would make more sense for him to milk a hospital stay for all he’s worth. But it’s always been exactly the opposite, Leo escaping at the first possible opportunity and hiding out somewhere until negotiations are made. 

After all these years, Raph finally has him figured out. 

Leo’s face is still puffy and red where it’s healing, but it’s inevitably going to scar—through the right side of his mouth and down his chin, where the parasite clung the hardest. And for the three days that they’ve been home, Leo ducks his head when anyone looks at him, talking to his hands or his knees instead of to their faces. 

Don’t look at me, Leonardo is screaming with his whole body. Raph doesn’t need a mind meld to hear that, loud and clear. 

Too bad, he thinks, not unkindly. His heart aches as he sits on the side of Leo’s bed and watches his brother tuck his chin immediately. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” he says, lifting Leo’s face again in one large hand, gentle and implacable. Leo resists briefly, but gives it up for a bad job when Raph rumbles at him.  

“Don’t,” Leo manages. 

“Why shouldn’t I?” Raph challenges. “I missed you.”

Leo’s eyes are downcast and wet, his mouth screwed stubbornly to one side in a manner that probably hurts, given the stitches. Raphael is a professional at outlasting moody little turtles, and he’ll sit here until the next apocalypse if that’s what it takes. 

Eventually, Raph’s patience pays off. Slowly, gingerly, Leo opens his hands. He lets Raph take them and squeeze strength and warmth into them, and clings back for as long as it takes to cobble together the remarkable courage he needs to look his big brother in the eye. 

“I lost the key,” Leo starts damningly.

“You got it back,” Raph says, ignoring the nauseous lurch in his stomach at the memory of the warehouse, Leo pinned to the floor, the escape pod activating and leaving him there alone. His nightmares always start right there these days. “We’re the ones who couldn’t keep hold of it.”

“I almost hurt you,” Leo says, a note of desperation entering his tone. “I almost—”

“You didn’t,” Raph counters firmly. “You have no idea how much more incredible it is that you didn’t.”

“I was so mean.” Tears drip down his face as he finally loses the battle not to cry. “When the Krang was in my head he saw everything and he said—said you must hate me, and he did all of you a favor getting rid of me, and I thought—I thought that makes sense, because I was so mean, and I’m nothing but trouble, and I don’t contribute, and even when dad gave me the chance to step up and be something I still wanted—I just wanted—”

Little Leo, who invented games of make-believe so Raph could feel like a hero. Little Leo, forever finding ways to make recalcitrant Donnie play, pleased as punch every time he pulled it off. Little Leo, who could listen to Mikey ramble for hours without getting bored or short-tempered, his bedroom walls an ever-evolving art collage of his little brother’s best work. Little Leo, who just wanted to be held and held and held. 

Raph lifts Leo into his arms, as easy now as it was when he was three and nine and twelve, and holds him. Leo shakes with how hard he’s crying, even though he’s not really making any noise. His hands scramble to grab onto Raph’s shell and he lets Raph squeeze him into something young and small and hurt and loved. 

As a general concept, Raph disagrees with murder—but he thinks he could make an exception for the monster who forced his way into Leo’s brain and turned it into an echo chamber of all the worst things he had ever thought about himself. 

An eternity alone in the dark with nothing but his failures is as close to justice as they’ll get. It’s kind of poetic, right? is all Mikey will have to say about it when it comes up a week from now, a mean-spirited little smile on his face. 

“I’m sorry,” Leo chokes out. “I’m sorry, Raphie. I’ll do—I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll be better, I swear. I’ll never let you down again.”

“He said he would live the rest of his life making up for it, making you proud,” Casey said.

“Blue, this thing you think you gotta make up for—this price you think you gotta pay for existing—it doesn’t exist,” Raph tells him in a tone that brooks no room for argument, barely managing not to grind his teeth together. If anyone else had said anything even half as bad as Leo had said about Leo, he would’ve punched them straight through a wall by now. “You mean more to me than what you contribute to the team. Even if you brought nothing to the table, which is not true, you’d still be stuck with us forever. Non-negotiable. You could be a hateful little brat every single day of your life and I would still take a bullet for you, no questions asked. Are you hearing me?”

“Hearing you,” Leo mutters, knowing better to disagree with that tone.

“All I want from you is you. All I need is my Leo. Whether he’s feeling goofy or annoying or pissed off or scared—I want every shape of him. Every version. Don’t you dare,” Raph adds, punctuating this by a little rattle of the Leo he’s holding, “make me go a single day without him ever again.”

Leo is fully hidden beneath his chin, so there’s no way for Raph to tell what his face is doing. But he hears the little punched-out breath, and feels it a second later when Leo’s white-knuckled grip on his shell loosens, just a bit. No longer convinced he’ll be ripped away for some imaginary offense.

It’ll take more than one conversation to fix everything, but they’ve got more than one. They’ve got a million. They have the whole rest of their lives on each other’s team. 

“I missed you, too,” Leo whispers, like they’re four and five years old again, huddled under the blankets after bedtime and telling each other secrets. 

Back then, monsters were easy to conquer. Nothing scary or sad dared to follow little brothers to Raphie’s room. A warm nest and a turtle pile was the answer to every heartache. 

Some things stay exactly the same, Raph thinks fondly, amused by the way Leo’s already drifting off. He settles in for a nap on his plastron, Leo tucked securely under one arm. He gives it about thirty seconds before Mikey and Donnie stop listening outside the door and sneak inside to complete the pile, and starts the count in his head. 

He makes it to twenty-seven before the mattress gives tellingly beneath two pairs of hands, and he smiles. 

[bigtedbear]

" 𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧'𝐬 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 "

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭: 𝐥𝐮𝐨𝐜𝐡𝐚 𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩

content warnings: gay relationship, descriptions of grevious bodily injury, implied self-mutilation/self-harm, male reader, monster x human relationship, hurt/comfort writing, hey this starts out really dark please take care of your mental health, arguments, misunderstood feelings, mermaid courtship, alternate universe where luocha is a traveling doctor who's studying biology and anatomy across the universe blah blah blah, luocha is pretty genuine in this even though i know he is in fact a snake let me idealize for a moment okay, luocha puts a ring on it without realizing he is literally putting a ring on it

full admittance you'll probably find parallels with @/havanilla's merventurine au at the start of this cause it was one of the last things I read on my old tumblr account before it died on me and i fear i DO have brainrot

to add to my earlier warning about this chapter beginning out dark, there will be a marker for the cuter, mermaid courtship section of the fic!! look for a marker like the one below VV

" welcome back caller 🪷! connecting your line as we speak! "

" new contact noted! caller luocha has been added to your phonebook - love, 𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑟 𝑡-19 “

A pained scream ripped through the air.  

It was a shame it couldn’t be distinguished from the sound of other yells and shouting from all over the deck.  In fact, it seemed the anguish was completely drowned out by the noise of an older man beginning to bark orders from the side of the fishing boat.  Gravelly with age and experience, sets and more sets of hands seemed to jump to action, rushing over to that specific side of the deck.  

In the crew’s haste, they didn’t seem to notice they had also woken up the residential cabin.  Things were more than hectic; the experienced crew themselves were in a frenzy.  There was something that demanded urgent attention and it seemed none of the regular passengers were privy to what exactly it was. 

Still, in the curious sea of civilian passengers renting their rooms in the bowels of the ship, a tall blonde head of hair peered over the crowd straight to the source of the fuss.  Over the sea of yellow rain jackets adorning the working fishermen, he caught sight of some kind of reflective surface… what many wrote off as an oversized fish, Luocha continued to strain his eyes at.

Should he have been anyone else, perhaps he wouldn’t have noticed.  But Luocha was a doctor, he was more than familiar with noises of distress; with the scent of blood.  Something in the very core of his body shook with each of the pained and weak motions of an equally pained, weak patient.  The vibrations crept up his spine from the wooden boards of the ship, whispering into his ears. 

Something was wrong. 

Something was terribly wrong. 

Despite the protests of one of the tour guides, urging him to go back to sleep, he rushed towards the scene.  The same pained screams; the sounds of the body on the deck; the reflection of the “oversized fish”, they became clearer and clearer the closer he closed in.

Before he could make it into the crowd of men at work, he was caught by one of their coworkers.  Clad in a yellow raincoat, shadow cast across his face in the rain, the obviously displeased grimace all over his face only further sent Luocha into a state of panic.  A tense grip on his elbow, the man spoke in a language he didn’t understand.  Even if he didn’t understand the words themselves, Luocha was more than smart enough to understand the message the worker was trying to convey.  Before he could be pulled away, he made one last attempt to see what exactly was going on. 

When he did manage to catch a glimpse, he froze. 

Perfect, round tears running down flushed, red cheeks. 

The skin was pulled taut in another scream.  Based on the shaking motion of the face, he could only really come to the conclusion the body was being jerked in every direction possible. 

“Stop… STOP!”  He yanked his elbow out of the man’s grasp, crashing directly into the back of another worker.  In his haste, he shoved the man out of the way only to find his path blocked by even more yellow raincoats.  “You’re only going to worsen the injuries! I’m a doctor!” 

Despite not considering himself to be very physically fit, something about the situation discarded that reality entirely.  An unknown strength washed over him as he forced his way through the clusterfuck of workers trying to wrestle the screamer into place. 

He didn’t understand, Luocha didn’t understand. 

There was an injured crew member on the deck, screaming–what kind of idiot would continue to pull and stress the skin around the wound? Was that why the team leader seemed to screaming with such vigor?  Was he equally concerned about one of his staff suddenly being sent into debilitating agony? 

But no, not even in the slightest.  

Through the crowd, a wet mop of hair thrashing against the backdrop of a barbed fishing net came into view.  The urgency only further sent Luocha wrestling through the crowd of men, all but screaming himself as he watched the injured man on the ground contort his facial muscles in abject horror.  

“Stop it, you’re hurting him!” 

 He could hear his own vocal chords start to tear as he shrieked for the poor victim.  With each passing moment, fear and anxiety seized the doctor in his entirety before he finally managed to part the crowd like the red sea. 

In the end,

he wasn’t faced with a crew member. 

...

A merman. 

Something he’d only heard of in the planet’s folklore. 

It seemed well-known the small surviving population hardly ever ventured out of protected waters for fear of predators. 

What was this one doing so far out…?

With the opportunity making itself known, the unknown merman continued to thrash but harder, lips curling upwards as another shrill cry of agony streaked the night air.  From up close, the doctor could only watch the formerly smooth, unmarred skin become tainted with red.  Washed with your own blood, you looked more similar to some kind of horror movie monster than a person. 

But even in the face of monstrosity, his inner doctor only saw the blown out pupils, the senseless aggression, the fear written all over his patient’s face in their own claret stain.

“You’ll end up killing him, stop, STOP!” 

He completely ignored his own pain as the barbs in the net ripped into the fabric of his pajamas, cutting open his knees when he threw his body on top of yours.  His hands flew around carelessly in an attempt to unlatch the hands that seemed determined to pull at you from every direction.  

At the loss of the hands all over your body, your screams died down into pitiful hyperventilation, curling in on yourself in an attempt to cover the wounds weeping crimson all over the formerly white net.  

Instead of relief, instead of some kind of graditude, it seemed he was only met with friction.

“Oy, blondie, paws off, do you understand how much money you’ve got your hands on right now?” 

The thick accent confused him at first, then the words themselves didn’t seem to compute. 

“Excuse me?” 

You yelped again when one of the men pulled at the net.   The cold metal tore sore flesh in chunks.

“Mermaid scales are priceless.  So are the pearls they cry, we caught the bastard fair and square so. Step. Off.” 

His mind scrambled to understand the sentence, thoughts muddling together in a blender of pain and panic.  “I- I-” 

“You?”  Another crew member chimed in, crossing his arms, “You’ll what, doctor?  You can either get off of him and wrap up your cuts yourself or we’ll drag you off and the barbs can teach you to keep your nose out of other people’s business.” 

“I-”  his breathing picked up drastically, suddenly confronted with such a terrible moral dilemma. 

When prying hands began to make grabby motions for the edges of the ropes, he choked out his final answer.

“I'll pay for him!"

“...”

“...”

“...”

He swept his rain-soaked bangs out of his face, his voice shaking, “You were planning on selling him, right?”  He fumbled with his sleeves, “I make good money, I swear, I-,” he swallowed, “I can afford it.  Just take as much as you want out of the account I used to pay for my cabin.”

“...” 

“...”

Things were a little bit awkward, to say the least. 

Despite an attempt being made to cooperate while you were awake, it seemed the pressure and the mounting stress of nearly dying made it unable for you to accept the fact that Luocha was not, in fact, going to hurt you. 

The attempt to deal with the various injuries littered all over formerly smooth, silky skin was unproductive at best.  In fact, it only created more problems.  Trying to operate while you were largely unreceptive to anything he was saying was by far the worst decision he could’ve made given the circumstances. 

Point blank, he needed to get the barbed hooks out of your skin.  If he didn’t, the wounds would be at increased risk of infection.  After all, based on the cruel treatment he’d seen on deck, he knew the metal was most likely unsanitized.  Doing this while you were awake was easily the worst decision he could've made.

Promising not to hurt you while continually yanking pieces of metal out of your tender flesh was not a good way to build trust. 

"..."

"..."

You poked at the “strange” bowl that’d been set in front of you.  It was some kind of clam-fish hybrid soup. I mean, Luocha was trying to be considerate of your regular diet.  Surely, since you were living out in open waters, you were pretty used to eating fish right?

He, however, failed to realize you weren’t exactly in a spot to ever enjoy the luxuries of cooked food… or soup.  He’d laid out some utensils for you to use on top of that; it was a shame you didn’t know how to use them. 

"..."

"..."

You realized pretty early on that he’d saved you from becoming a victim to death by blood loss.  After all, when you were dropped in a holding tank until the ship arrived at the port, the water went cloudy from the dirt, debris, and blood all over your body.  In your little waist-high tank, he’d done his best to make sure you’d actually survive through the night.

Despite your reservations about him, you did your best not to scream while you were confined to a glorified holding cell.  Nails digging into the glass, biting down hard enough on the towel to tear, you tried your best to stay still while he fished countless little hooks from your back, arms, and chest.  

Removing the large hook in your shoulder was the most painful part of the process for the both of you.  You, for obvious reasons.  The hook made a clean cut through the muscle--scraping up against the bone--by the time you were awake enough to realize you were wrapped up in a barbed net.  Luocha, on the other hand, was the one that had to deal with the struggle while trying to complete a very tricky operation.  

Eventually, the problem dealt with itself when you passed out.  Really, he should’ve sedated you to start with, and he cursed at himself for not thinking of it sooner.  After you went out, he did his best to stitch everything up–hell, he wrapped you up in enough bandages to look like a mummy. 

But, since the two of you actually arrived on the island, there wasn’t so much as a word shared from either party. 

You woke up in a little bathtub, in a little bathroom, feeling like your arms were falling off and you couldn’t breathe because of how tight all of the bandages were wrapped around you. Eventually the giant bandages changed to smaller ones attached with some medical tape.  The only bulky one left was the one wrapped around your shoulder. 

"..."

"..."

With some trepidation, you grabbed at one of the fishtails sticking out of the mystery liquid, digging a finger in between the meat and the ribs to peel it off the bone.  Carefully, you used one of your freshly trimmed nails to remove the thick, scaly skin, then biting off a chunk to chew and swallow.  

The longer you stared at the bowl, the more confused you became. 

Yes, you knew how to eat a fish. 

Yes, you knew how to eat a mussel. 

No, you didn’t know what to do with whatever else was in the bowl.  

You paused eating when the man sitting across from the bathtub cleared his throat.  He made a vague gesture towards your lap, “Would you…?”

‘...mind if I showed you how to eat a bowl of soup?’ 

Without much hesitation, you offered up your meal again, much more interested in the chunk of fish in your hand.  Biting off another piece, you drank in the pleasant familiarity in just having some tilapia for once.  

He picked up the spoon. Deciding not to embarrass you further, he decided to taste test the food himself instead of trying to feed you. He let the silver spoon clatter back into the bowl, passing it over to you again. Despite the clear demonstration he’d given you, you opted to pick at one of the mussels hiding underneath the broth. 

“...”

“...”

He cleared his throat again, seemingly averting eye contact as he stared at the tiled walls. 

You diverted your attention from your bowl back to the blonde doctor. 

“I don’t mean to be rude or pry in any way,” he swallowed, “but what exactly were you doing so far from protected waters?"

You didn’t seem surprised in the slightest by his question, grabbing at the other fish tail in the bowl, “Smuggling and poaching.”  

He tilted his head curiously.

“Protective waters have attendants to track general pod health, they have the authority to temporarily remove merfolk from the water to do routine health checks."  You finally wrapped your hand around the spoon awkwardly, bringing some broth up to your lips. "Smugglers get jobs as attendants cause only tagged mermaids are considered protected.” You wiggled one of your finned ears, your left ear. Notably, there was a small tear in one of the fins. “It only takes a couple minutes for an attendant to catch a mermaid, sedate them, get them into a vehicle, remove their tag and throw them out into the right spots for a couple grand.” 

“I see.” 

You hummed, finally bringing the soup up to your lips, “Speaking of, how much did you end up having to pay for me?”

"..."

"..."

“Excuse me?” Luocha’s hands rested in his lap. 

“How much did you end up paying for me?”  You picked up another mussel, “I’m pretty good about keeping up with the price of scales and pearls.  I know you bought me as some kind of pity project, but I'm pretty eager to go back out to open waters.  Just name your price and I can start trying to pay off the debt.” 

The doctor blinked a couple times. “Oh… oh my god, absolutely not!”  He shook his head, bringing his hands up in front of his chest defensively, “There is no need to pay me back in the slightest.  Please, just rest well and remain healthy.  That would be the best payment.”

“What’s this?” 

He rolled the small iridescent pearl between his gloved fingers. 

“It’s a pearl.” 

He cracked a smile at that. It was gone as quick as it arrived as he brought the little treasure to his face to take a closer look.  “Well yes, but where did you get this? Did you have it stashed on you somewhere?”

You twirled your finger in a circle on the surface of the water. “No,” absentmindedly you observed the little whirlpool it made, “I made it.” 

He blinked a couple of times, hand dropping back to his side. “Pardon?” 

You finally looked up from the surface of the water, “I made it.” 

He cocked his head to the side, “You… made a pearl?” 

You looked at him, bored, “Well, yeah, did you not know mermaids make pearls?”

He looked from you, to the pearl, and then back at you.  “No… I’m afraid I didn’t know.”  His palm closed into a fist around the pearl, “How?” 

“...hm?”

He gestured towards his closed hand, “How did you make it?” 

You gave a huff, “Well, you’ve seen me make them before.”  

He frowned, “I… have?”

‘-and I didn’t notice?’

You nodded, shifting around in the bathtub to try and stretch your long tail out a little bit.  "The night I got caught on the boat-" Your jaw tensed, a sudden pang of soreness shooting up from your extremities. "-they were all over the deck, there were a bunch in the little tank they had me in.” 

His frown only deepened as he did his best to recall, “I don’t think I remember seeing them…? Does your blood crystalize into them or something of the sort?” 

You rested your head on the porcelain of the tub, bringing your arms up to cushion your cranium.  “Tears,” you murmured, “Merfolk tears turn into pearls.” 

‘Ah… so that’s why you mentioned there being so many on the ship.’

But then it hit him. 

“Why were you crying?” 

You shrugged, “Most mermaids in protected waters can cry on command.  We get a lot of tourists that give us gifts, sometimes if we’re interested we’ll give them a pearl in return.” 

He nodded like he understood, but suddenly the beautiful gem felt heavy in his fist.  He opened his hand and offered it back, “As beautiful as it is, I don’t wish to see you shedding any tears while you’re under my care.” 

You pushed his outstretched hand away, “Well, I already made it.  There’s no use trying to return it.” 

“Still, I feel terrible receiving a gift with such painful origins,” he sat down on the stool that’d become his usual spot.  “I’m a doctor. My goal is to make sure you’re in the least amount of pain possible.” 

“You should feel honored, you’re really the first person I’ve ever given a pearl to,” you raised your head from its spot on your arms, “I usually only gave them to little kids that didn’t bring me gifts so I’d give them something.”  You sank further into the water in the shallow tub.

“My concern is why you believe you should be giving me gifts in the first place,” he crossed his left leg over his right, scooting in closer, “I’ve already told you that taking care of you has always been of my own volition.  It is quite literally my job.  If you’re giving this to me as a gift and not repayment, I might be more inclined to accept it.” 

You huffed,  “Well, I guess you caught me.” 

His brows furrowed, “So I was right, you’re trying to pay back a debt again.” 

“...”

“...”

“...”

This time, he sighed.  “I’ve already told you, your health and wellbeing are both priceless.  I would never ask a patient I forced into care to pay me any sum of money-”

“That’s what I don’t understand,” The water rippled when you sat up suddenly, “Why don’t you want to accept any kind of payment? I’m tired of talking to you as property and owner.  You bought ownership, legally I’m your property. I don’t want to be your property.” 

“You aren’t my property-” He quipped, expression growing displeased.

“But I am,” you cut him off.  “You signed paperwork, you exchanged a certain sum of money.  Even if you thought I couldn’t hear you doesn’t mean I didn’t.” You crossed your arms across your chest, “I still heard the captain of the ship talking about sale prices with you.  I know I was considered a higher quality product, I know I was expensive.”

The doctor opened his mouth; and closed it and opened it again.  He struggled to find the correct words to use. “I didn’t consider that an exchange for ownership of you, I considered that to be the price of your wellbeing.  I’ve never considered you to be anything but an equal to me.” 

You drew your lips into a tight line, “Well, if I was an equal, you’d let me contribute to the cost somehow.  You wouldn’t treat me like some helpless baby.”  You gestured to his closed palm, “The pearl in your hand is priceless, sealing a handful of them would recuperate the money you wasted-”

Luocha held up his hand, “Stop-”

But you insisted, “Hell, if I ripped a couple of scales out you could more than pay for me.  You’d have enough money to buy another sorry sack of shit to take care of-”

“Don’t EVER-” he cut you off aggressively, “EVER, suggest such ludacris things to me again.  I refuse to even think about it.” 

“..."

Luocha shook his head, getting his gloves wet when he reached into the water to hold your hands in his own, “I would never ask you to do something like that to yourself.  I would never ask you to hurt yourself to please me and I would never ask you to hurt yourself because you needed my help.”  He gave your palms a gentle squeeze, “You did not ask to be put in the position you’re in now,  I am the one that chose to do this and I will be the one to set the price on my help; that price-” he paused, making sure you were looking him in the eyes, “-will always be no price at all.”   He pushed the pearl back into your hands.  “Give this pearl to one of the children that visit the waters after you’ve healed up in my stead, yes?” 

“It’s not exactly how I remember it.” 

You squirmed against the sensation of the water, arms still looped around Luocha’s neck.  

“Any discomfort?” The doctor asked, “Tell me if anything hurts.”

“No, no, nothing like that,” You shuffled around to try and make yourself comfortable.  You did your best to find the familiar rhythm of the waves, but your tail felt as useless as it had the entire time you’d been confined to the bathtub.  “It’s… cold.” 

Luocha nodded... even though he couldn't quite understand.  “If you aren’t straining any of your injuries, you can hang on for as long as you need to.”

You mumbled, trying to draw your elbows closer to your chest, “I’m not.” 

“...”

“...”

It’d only been a week since the last time you’d tried to repay your imaginary debt to Luocha.  Things got… less tense between the two of you. 

You didn’t put up a fuss when he put some ointment on the scars that formed all over your skin.  You didn’t squirm when he unwrapped your shoulder bandage.  You’d usually bide your time silently in the bathtub.  Mostly, you’d nap.  But that got old quickly, especially since a bathtub isn’t the most convenient spot for sleeping. 

Luocha could tell you were bored out of your mind all on your lonesome. To satiate this, he’d usually sit with you in the bathroom and try to teach you things like how to play cards.  You were a little apprehensive with him, like you always were, but it seemed you opened up to him a lot more towards the end of your stay in his temporary residence.

You’d become a pretty competent blackjack player all things considered.

You opened up more and more about your life down below.  Usually, you’d be afraid to tell anyone about that information.  Smugglers often targeted specific pods if one of the products happened to be particularly pricy.  But Luocha wasn't at any risk, was he? 

“...”

“...”

Eventually, as the water started to feel more natural on your skin, you let your grip loosen from around his neck.  As the welcoming embrace of the ocean seemed to envelop more and more of your body, you could feel the former tension in your muscles start to melt away. 

You laid yourself horizontal to the surface of the water, tentatively starting to create your own ripples in the vast expanses of blue.  Maybe it didn’t feel exactly as you remembered, but the gentle pressure of the cool, cool sea against your skin felt like home. 

Your arms splayed out in the waves like an angel, basking in the familiarity of it all.  “You can let go now.” 

Slowly, surely, pale arms lowered you into the arms of the same waters you’d been in a little over two months ago.  You shocked yourself when you chased after his hands. Still, as slick as an eel, you slid away from him into the open ocean, finding a boyish glee in the pure ecstasy of true freedom.  

You took off like a little jet, head first into the deep end. 

Luocha could only really watch with a small smile while you explored the vast array of little treasures hidden beneath the horizon line.  

It felt like only fifteen minutes had passed when you re-emerged from beneath the ocean blue, but to your shock, the sun was starting to set and Luocha was off on dry land, wringing the water out of his hair.  

In all of your fun, it seemed you’d forgotten about that man who’d made all of this possible for you. 

“...”

You pursued him onto the sand, watching him characteristically tilt his head to the side to express his curiosity.  You pushed your own wet mop of hair out of your face with your hand, suddenly feeling a little less confident in your choices.  Despite your trepidation, you felt you at least owed him this much. 

That didn't make it any easier.

“I-” you swallowed, curling in on yourself, “What if I wanted to give you a gift? If it wasn’t some kind of repayment?”��

He smiled, flipping a soaked lock of hair over his shoulder, “As long as you aren’t lying to me about repayment, then I would gladly accept.”

You suddenly felt a new wave of confidence wash over you, your chest puffing up a little bit, “Well, I have a gift for you.” Even though you failed to notice your little finned ears wiggling in excitement, Luocha did not. 

You reached up to your right ear, unhooking the beautiful golden earring that’d you'd been wearing since you’d been thrown out of protective waters.

His eyes widened.   

“It-” You offered the hoop to him, “It was my mom’s.”

Luocha blinked a couple times, staring at the bangle before looking back up at your face instead.  

“Well?  You said you’d accept it if it was a gift.”  You pushed it into his face, feeling a red hot flush wash over your features, “This is a gift; from me to you, no strings attached.” 

He carefully took the thin gold loop in his fingers.  He noticed the signs of oxidation and the water damage. 

It was already far less valuable than the pearl you’d tried to offer him.

Yet its sentimental value was unrivaled. 

“...”

“...”

“Did... your mother like jewelry?”

You shrugged, looking away from him, “Yeah, she had a lot of it from my dad.” 

Luocha nodded.  “Well, did she have a favorite kind of jewelry?” 

At this, you paused.  “I mean… I guess she did.  She wore a lot of rings… why?” 

“Well, since this is a gift I won’t refuse it,- Luocha slid one of the golden bands wrapped around his fingers off,  “-but if you can’t have her earring anymore, then you can at least have a piece of jewelry your mother would’ve liked to wear.”

You felt your face transition from an embarrassed pink to a much deeper red.  “You… you know what you’re offering me, r-right?” 

He didn’t respond in the way you expected.  Instead of his usual confusion, he pushed the ring towards you again with one hand.  The other went to work, looping the clasp of the earring through a piercing that was just a little bit too close to closing.  

It felt like your brain was melting.

‘Is he… flirting with me?’ 

You took the golden ring between your fingers, watching him use his newly freed hand to further force the earring through the piercing hole. You could only feel the heat creep up your neck to your ears; fuck, it felt like you were going to burn alive on the sand. 

When he finally got it in, he flipped a chunk of wet hair over his shoulder.  He framed the golden hoop with his palm.  Playfully, he asked, “How does it look?” 

‘...’

‘He’s definitely flirting.’ 

You immediately ripped your gaze from his face to the ring that suddenly felt like a hundred pounds in your palm. 

‘...What fingers do humans usually put the ring on again?’

Shakily you slid the golden ring onto your left hand, examining the way it glinted in the light of the sunset.  

‘...holy shit, did I just get married?’ 

“[name]?” 

You blinked a couple times, suddenly ripping your gaze away from the shiny metal.  “Sorry, sorry.” 

He chuckled at your expense, enjoying the little fluttering of your ears everytime he seemed to catch your attention again.  “Thank you for the gift, I’ll cherish it dearly.” 

You nodded. 

“...”

“...”

The silence was interrupted with a quiet sniffle. 

“...[name]?”

You aggressively wiped the tear off your face, watching the consequent pearl roll across the grains of sand.  “H-Hey, you can’t just give me this ring and leave-” You took a deep breath, “-That’s not fair, that’s not fair at all.” 

He was a little taken aback at the sudden resurgence of emotion, “Would…” he paused.  He thought it over before tentatively putting a hand on your shoulder, “Would it help if I stayed a little longer?” 

You shook your head, putting your hand over the one on your shoulder to hold it between both of your own hands.  “You have to promise to visit me a lot.  It’s going to take me a long time to find my family, so if you don’t visit I’m going to be lonely.” 

He, once again caught off guard, nodded, “O-Of course!” His own cheeks tinted a pale pink. 

“You promise?” 

He nodded again, this time using his other hand to clasp your hand in both of his.  “I promise I’ll visit.”

a side note for this upcoming section: i did a lot of world-building for this fic behind the scenes, the current planet they're on is largely submerged beneath the waters and they live on a bunch of island nations. To link up with that idea, my idea of the mermaid smuggling industry is to do with the concept of foreigners coming in and destroying local ecosystems. (Colonization)

Long story short, the planet is loosely based on Polynesian Islands so I chose Māori names for our supporting cast but keep in mind I am FAR from an expert and I mean literally no disrespect at all to anyone at all. Only the names are Māori in nature because I feel like no matter how much research I do, I would be unable to capture the essence of the rich culture of New Zealand. I'm a little gay fanfic writer I have not done nearly enough research to claim I know ANYTHING, I just thought it'd be cool and help with world-building in case people want a part-two or something

“What’s got you so worked up?” 

“Shut the fuck up Iarere, this is like the seventh time in the same hour.” 

Your younger brother held his hands up defensively, “Well, things got boring around here without you!”  He let himself fall towards the ground next to the boulder you’d splayed out all the little pieces of gold you’d managed to scrounge up.  “You manage to make it back from outside of protective waters and instead of hating everything and everyone, you’re suddenly getting all buddy buddy with the tourists trying to get some trinkets.  I know you’re old but are you really getting that desperate?” 

You frowned, “I’m not that old.” 

Iarere rested his face on the cool surface of the rock, prodding at one of the particularly flashy necklaces.  “You’re old to me.”  

Your frown deepened. Not just because your brother was calling you old, but because Luocha’s weekly visit was coming up and you hadn’t managed to gather up nearly as much as you would’ve wanted.   For your kind, caring, doctor husband who was already well off, a few necklaces and a handful of rings and earrings wouldn’t be anywhere near enough to woo him.  “I guess I am getting towards the end of the usual age people get married at.” 

The younger man nodded, humming, “Yeah, so do you have anyone in mind?” 

You bit your lip.  

I mean, yes, you were married. 

But it felt inauthentic if you didn’t present your husband with some kind of dowry first. 

Yes, Luocha only presented you with one of his old rings, but he also paid a hefty sum to rescue you from certain doom.  He also nursed you back to good health, refused to take any payment for any of the medical treatments or the food that’d been wasted making sure you’d retain your strength throughout your recovery. 

In your mind, maybe human dowries were just a little bit different. 

Despite opening your mouth to voice your dissent, your little brother jumped up at the opportunity to tease you.  “So you do have someone you’re thinking about!” 

“I-” 

“What are they like?” Iarere gripped your shoulders, tearing your attention away from your inner dilemma.  “What do they look like? Do I know them?”  He gasped, shaking you back and forth and he demanded to know, “Did you meet them while you were outside?!” 

You gripped at his shoulders in return, “I didn’t say I had anyone in mind!” 

“...”

“...”

He pursed his lips, “Yeah, I’m not buying it.” 

You groaned, bringing your hands up to your face.

He only got more excited, leaning in way too close for comfort as he squealed, “So I was right?!” 

“Right about what?” 

Your eyes darted over to the side, watching one of the few friends you’d managed to retain at your grown age.  “Thank the gods, Akahata, get Iarere off me before he gives me whiplash.” 

He hummed, “Well, I’m more interested in what exactly you guys were talking about before.”  You watched as his eyes flitted from you and your brother to all the precious metal and gems you’d laid out.  “Actually don’t tell me, let me guess.”  He pointed at the rock, “You’re setting up a dowry, but you’re upset because you know no amount of jewelry would ever get anyone in the pod to consider settling down with your ugly mug.”

“HAH!” 

Your ears fluttered in irritation.  “That’s a horrible guess.” 

Akahata shrugged, “Well, I mean, your mug’s only ugly cause you frown all the time.  If you actually made an effort to smile more, you’d probably have a lot more people that’d be willing to accept you with no dowry.” 

Your frown tugged at the corners of your lips as you massaged your temples, “For your information, I’m making a dowry cause I already got married.” 

“...”

“...’

“...”

“You WHAT?!” 

Iarere’s fists clenched even tighter around your biceps, “You told me you lost mom’s earring, not that you got married-” 

“It’s a long story-” You started, 

“Not long enough to not tell either of us!” Your best friend screamed in abject horror.  “The moment Ngaio and I started courting each other I told you immediately-”  You grimaced when he pushed your brother out of the way to be the one to shake you back and forth, “-and you get married and you don’t tell me until afterwards?!” 

“It wasn’t planned! I didn’t even realize he was courting me until he gave me his ring-” You countered, face lighting up pink.

“So it’s a him…” Iarere mumbled, putting his hand to his chin.  His expression lit up as the pieces started clicking together in his head.  “Is that where you’re going tomorrow?!” 

“YOU’RE GOING TO MEET HIM TOMORROW?!” 

You were growing more overwhelmed by the minute, averting eye contact.  “Yeah, so what? We’ve been meeting up every week while I was looking for you guys.  Is it weird for husbands to spend time together?” 

Akahata abruptly let go of you, leaving red imprints of his hands on your arms.  “That’s not that problem, that problem-” he paused for dramatic effect, “-is that you’re planning on meeting up with him after returning and you’re not even telling us who he is!” 

Iarere put a hand over his heart, feigning his disappointment as he let himself sink into the sand below.  “I think I’m going to faint.” 

You sighed, “Well-”

Akahata jabbed an accusatory finger in your chest again, “Is he even good looking enough for you? Is he any good at providing? What was his dowry like?  What pod is he even from?!”

“He’s not from a pod-”

Your brother hummed, “So is he a lone wanderer out beyond the boundaries of protected waters saving pretty mermen he wants to marry?” 

Your face twisted into one of disgust, “Keep your fantasies to yourself.” 

Iarere huffed, “Well, what else am I supposed to think when you say he’s not from a pod?  He obviously has so be some kind of lone wolf, PLUS you got married before you made it back.” 

Akahata put a contemplative hand under his chin, “I mean he has a point.” 

You shook your head, “He’s a human.” 

“...” 

“...” 

“...”

“You’re joking.” 

“I’m not.” 

“You’re joking…” 

You held up your hand, gesturing towards the ring on your finger. 

“Oh my god, you’re not actually joking.” 

Your younger brother squealed, “Oh my god this is like something out of all those movies on the surface! Tell me all about it!” 

You frowned, pushing through both your peers to make it back to your makeshift table top.  “He’s… a doctor, but he was working as a trader on a big ship.   He was there the night I got caught and he ended up buying me off the boat and he patched me up and released me.” 

Your best friend sighed, “Only you can make a story that romantic sound like a business deal.” 

Iarere furrowed his brows, “Wait, wait, wait, when did he propose?” 

“Well-” You fumbled over your words, “I caught feelings and I thought I might as well start the courtship process-” 

“YOU made the first move?!” 

“Shut up!” You pushed your overly eager younger brother’s face away, “I didn’t know if he even knew about mermaid courting so if I was going to start courting him, I had to do it then.”

“...go on.”

You sighed, “I gave him mom’s old earring, but instead of just taking it, he gave me one of the rings he was wearing.” You covered your face, feeling another wave of crimson wash everywhere from your neck to the tips of your ears.  You still couldn’t get the memory of him showing off the earring out of your fucking head. “I mean- I- I even asked if he knew what offering me his ring meant and he just put it in my hand.” 

Your younger brother kicked around on the sand eagerly, waving his hands around excitedly.  “That is actually one of THE most romantic proposals I’ve ever heard of!” 

Akahata crossed his arms, “Damn, I feel like mine was lacking.” 

You huffed, “Well, Ngaio is still your wife.” 

“And whatever his face is still managed to wife you--of all people--up.”

“Touche.”

“Oh wow, you brought more than you usually do.” 

Luocha chuckled behind his hand, his own little bag of purchased trinkets hanging loosely at his side. 

You hummed, thumbing over the beautiful glistening stone of a diamond necklace you’d managed to get off of a rather infamous regular.  “You’re one to talk.” 

He gave a small grunt of exertion as he sat next to you on the sand, letting the bag fall to the side, “You’ve got me there.”  He couldn’t help the pleasant swell of warmth in his face as you gestured for him to turn around. 

I mean, maybe you weren’t the best at communicating what you were feeling or what you wanted from him, but you’d been getting better.  Instead of just grunting a yes or no to the questions he’d ask, you’d actually make time for some conversation with him.  Be it from your annoying younger brother to the changes in the pod since you’d returned, it seemed you shared what little woes you had with Luocha.  

You also seemed to share endless amounts of little golden treasures with him.  From old, worn gold, oxidized iron, anything really that you could find, you provided it to him and put it on him with the most delicate touch your rough, scarred hands could muster.  Maybe it was nothing, maybe it was something.  He couldn’t control the way his heart sped up whenever you leaned in to help him put on a new pair of earrings you’d gifted him.  He surmised gift giving was some kind of love language that was common among merfolk.  Perhaps you’d also enjoy it if he brought you gifts of equal value! 

Still, the pounding in his heart was not helped when you’d started smiling at him. 

Everytime he managed to catch one of the rare glimpses of your smile–even worse when you’d laugh–he almost felt like he was looking at something forbidden.  Something he wasn’t worthy of, right in front of him.  For someone who had been through so much, you really opened up to him remarkably quickly after you’d been released.  Perhaps before release you’d been scared of being sold off? The familiar feeling of the waters must’ve don wonders to make you relax this much. 

Even worse when the physical affection began.  It started as simple as reaching out to the side of his face to brush the hair away from his ear so you could catch sight of the golden hoop he’d taken to wearing.   It transitioned to taking his gloves off so you could look at the rings you ended up gifting him.   Before he could really process how quickly the two of you were moving, you were pressed up against him at every opportunity.  

He knew it was natural for merfolk to not wear clothing, but did you have to have such a muscular chest? 

Even now, as you fumbled with the clasp of the absolutely beautiful diamond necklace, you wrapped an equally muscular aquatic tail around his leg.  He didn’t exactly know if this was normal between merfamily-could he call them that?--, being overly affectionate.   Even if it felt like a little more than just normal bonding, he did his best to still the pounding of his heart when your fingers brushed his hair out of the way so you could make sure the gem was oriented correctly.  

Trying his hardest to quell the tide of warmth surging up to the tips of his ears, he put a hand over his erratic heartbeat.  He prayed to the Aeons above you couldn’t feel it as your chest pressed against his back.  

You wrapped your arms snug around his torso, pulling him further into your stomach.  Resting your chin on top of his blonde hair, you found the gloved hand resting over his heart to hold in your own.   The two of you let the silence hang in the air for a moment. 

“...”

“...”

You gave a quiet huff before you moved your chin from on top of his head to bury itself into the crook of his neck.  As his fingers interlocked with yours, he found himself looking at all the gold rings he’d adorned your fingers with.  Each and every one, he could put a time and day to. 

But then, his eyes landed on your ring finger. 

“Oh, you still wear that old thing?”

“...hm?”

You glanced down at your hand, raising a brow.  His finger was tracing over the ring he’d exchanged when he was releasing you back into the open water.

“You still wear the same earring I gave you,” you murmured, flicking it with your freehand.  “I’ve given you countless pairs of earrings since, yet even when you wear one stud, you’ll always wear the same one every time I see you.” 

His chest rumbled with a bout of laughter, “I suppose you’re right.”  He perked up suddenly, “Oh, that reminds me, speaking of this earring…” He reached towards the rather large bag of gifts he’d brought with him.  He threw a few of the boxes of gold ornaments he’d purchased before finally fishing the box he was looking for out of the bottom.  “I went shopping and when I saw this pair, I simply knew you’d love it.” 

You hummed, looking at the little navy blue box in his hand.

He made quick work of the bow wrapped around the holding case, nimble fingers peeling open the little box before he presented you with his gift on their signature velvet cushion. It looked like… 

…a replica of your mother’s earrings. 

He offered them up to you with a bashful smile, watching in silent amusement when your ears flicked back and forth in some kind of excitement. 

Delicately, gently, you picked up one of the hoops and twirled it around your fingers. 

“...”

“...”

“...Well? Do you like it?”

You didn’t respond, reaching up to your right ear to remove the little stud you’d chosen to wear to this outing.  Fidgeting with the clasp of the loop, you threaded it with a calculated ease through your piercing.   

“I like it.” 

He clasped his hands together, “Good, I’m more than glad.” 

“...”

“...”

“She would’ve loved to meet you.” 

“Hm?”

You paused, “My mother, I mean,” Your thumb fidgeted with the back of the earring.  “She always wanted to see her sons get married, but she passed before she could.” 

Luocha blinked.  

“Pardon?” 

You tilted your head to the side, “My mother; she would’ve loved to meet you.” 

“No, no,” Luocha could feel the deep claret paint his face a messy red as he scooted to face you, “What did you mean by seeing her sons get married?”

“...

…Did you not know?” 

Luocha blinked. 

“We’re married.” 

Another blink. 

“You… Is that why…?” He gestured towards the gifts strewn across the sand.  He looked back towards his own bag of gifts. 

‘Oh for crying out loud-’

“I-” he cleared his throat, “I apologize, I seem to have… entered this marriage under false pretenses.”  He put his hands on his temples, “How- Where- When exactly did this happen?”

You hummed, “When you let me back out into the water.  When I gifted you my mother’s earring, that was the signal I wanted to start courting you.  When you gift something back, that’s an officiation of marriage.” 

He coughed into his hand, trying to think through this situation logically. 

Okay, so he accidentally got married.

What the fuck. 

The train of thought seemed to end there. 

…

He was, however, plagued with another train of thought. 

‘Well, you have been making eyes at him for a few months now.’ 

…

Those thoughts were not helping.  

“...”

“...”

“If you want to end the marriage, it’s as simple as saying so,” you added, “I thought you knew what my intentions were-”

“NO!”

Luocha covered the bottom half of his mouth.  “I’m fine with the arrangement as is, but it appears human marriage and merfolk marriage are officiated in very different ways.” 

Your brows furrowed. 

“...”

“...”

“...Are you saying you want to officiate the marriage as humans would?”

The tips of Luocha’s ears burned with embarrassment.  “I-” 

You held one of his hands in yours, eyes seemingly boring holes into his face,  “Whatever it is, as long as you want to do it, I will do it to the best of my ability.” 

Any complaints were silenced when he was confronted with such sincerity.  “Well…”

You waited patiently, folding your hands in your lap.  

Finally, it seemed your “husband” made up his mind.  

“Close your eyes.” 

You paused, seemingly surprised, but nonetheless your eyes fluttered shut moments after. 

Luocha urged himself to breathe, flexing and unflexing his hands.  

He leaned forward, closing his eyes as he…

…planted an innocent peck on your lips.

there's a note on the side of the phone booth, read it?

" idk how to describe it but now being on the other side of this, i'm feeling something similar to post nut clarity "

first post since losing literally everything on my first account yay !!

yes guys, luocha and his mermaid husband were openly cuddling on the beach for months and he's wondering "is he into me or am i bro-zoned"

that being said, losing my tumblr has now forced me to realize how many people genuinely like my writing hey guys I went scrolling through user kamisatoelogy's blog to look for their modern ayato fic and i found out someone dedicated time and effort into archiving my works???? and you guys went looks for me????

i fr feel like getting on my hands and knees and thanking everyone for all their support and love over this process and apologizing for scaring you guys so bad

you guys are so sweet and so many of you have been so helpful in getting my blog back up and running again :((

i started drafting my fics in google docs to make sure it isn't all GONE if i get shit on again so this chapter is brought to you by font: unica one, it was 27 pages total (i am insane)

shout out to Chappell Roan cause she really put me in my tunnel vision work zone while i was writing this

if u guys r looking for a writing hack, i trained myself like a sleeper agent to start writing when i play songs on hour loop it puts me in a work rut

- love, operator t-19

[whyilovewhales-pdf]

boynextdoor fic recommendations (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)

— a collection of works i have enjoyed ! warning ! contains nsfw 18+ works, minors plz do not read smut fics

key : ✿ - fluff / ✦ - angst / ✸ - smut

ot6 : ➜ bnd as male leads ✿ - @000-pawz ﹟this is something straight out of a k-drama !! (っ- ‸ - ς) the little details are so adorable and each and every one gives me butterflies hehehe

➜ bnd's fav spots to be kissed ✿ - @blumisiu ﹟ something short and sweet and so! cute! i admit that i giggled while reading it :p like i need to kiss leehans' dimples sooo bad D:

➜ arguments w/ bnd ✦ , ✿ - @byeuijoo ﹟ this fic filled the bnd sized hole in my heart perfectly ｡°(°.◜ᯅ◝°)°｡ the during and after was so perfect ! it's also written so accurately, u really took in account all their personalities -v-

sungho : ➜ quicksand ✦ - @loserlvrss ﹟ i always have and will continue to rave about this fic because it's just so !! the descriptions, the metaphors, the everything!!! the image it paints in your mind is so crazy ?! tears streaming down my face everytime i read it (which is very often)

➜ satin ✿ , ✸ - @gluion ﹟ firstly, THE VISUALIZATION!! just imagine prettiest boy sungho bedazzled in bows... ok now that that's out of the way, this was soooooo soft and adorable !! i literally was drooling while reading heheh i <3 yeppi

riwoo : ➜ tell me a story ✦ , ✿ - @blumisiu ﹟ spidey-riwoo!! the chronicles of spidey-riwoo have my heart heheh <3 being spiderman's girlfriend is indeed very hard, especially when you just find out after ages of dating him! this was so sweet and had my heart hurting !! spidey-riwoo is so underrated

➜ evening glow ✿ - @loserlvrss ﹟ my lovely soph... how do you always eat with every single one of ur fics!! this was just incredibly adorable, the concept of a first date with somebody you already know like the back of ur hand!! i think riwoo is the sweetest dude ever and to go on a date with him!! yeah i'm gone.

jaehyun : ➜ solace ✿ , ✦ , ✸ - @000-pawz ﹟ such a soft and cute fluffy fic !! >o< i need him in my arms and to spoil him so badly D: softie myungjae is the best thing ever omg. plz let me make u feel good !!

➜ blossom ✿ , ✦ - @riizegasm ﹟ i don't usually like royalty fics but the princess and prince concept was written way too cute !! the progression of their relationship is so lovely and the minor angst part was !!!

taesan : ➜ between the lines ✿ , ✦ - @blissfullsvn ﹟ omg enemies to lovers is so good but academic rivals to lovers is my number 1!! the fact that he cares D: so devastating... this was such a cute little trope heheheh and it was written so well (ㅠㅠ) !! i need him to take care of me lol

➜ your arms are my sanctuary ✿ , ✦ - @chewnotchoke ﹟ ohhhh i'm a SUCKER for angst with a happy ending hehe !! this was written with the intention to make me cry !! the ending was just so cute and sweet, i think it is very accurate that taesan can get pent up with anger, but he's just an angel!

leehan : ➜ moving to busan ✿ , ✦ (kinda) - @lionhanie ﹟ the mood and storytelling created throughout this fic was so detailed and i felt like i was seeing handsome surfer boy leehan irl hehe !! this fic evoked such deep emotions that are just so relatable!! this is very well written :D

➜ wasted ✦ , ✸ - @hornychristianprincess ﹟ this is a three part series !! it's so relatable and so realistic !! another promise of "i won't fall for him" and we all know how that ends :D i love seeing leehan written as a jerk (sorry bae) + the emotions are so raw and so real and the smut is 10/10. a read that'll definitely have u hooked !

woonhak : ➜ not so secret ✿ - @byeuijoo ﹟ a little secret but i always go back and reread this cause it's just too cute and woonhak is written so perfectly !! the childish romance cliche teenage relationship is mwah chefs kiss .! and the hiding from the others is just so cozy and cute.

➜ build-a-bear ✿ , ✦ - @taesanluv3r ﹟ every woonhak fic is so flipping adorable !! cries !! the little fight then him sneaking off to get a gift :< my fav trope is when woonhak gets teased to hell and back hehehe

[loveandleases]

Hi there another question from me! So saw this on a different Tumblr account but I have to ask fake-out-make-out scenarios. If your happy to do them.

How would the RO's react to MC doing this trope, in the like crushing/yearning stage.

Doesn't have to be too spicy whatever your happy with if you don't mind. Please and thank you

As far as I know this is the first time I've actually gotten this question? So I'll definitely answer it! (Will be crushing stage) Below the cut for more~

❤️ Cam- (if Cam was your first kiss) As you pull away Cam’s eyes open, searching your face, for what he isn’t sure. To see if you hated it? Or more precisely, to see if you hated that it was him you kissed.

“Sorry, I didn’t know what else to do.” He notices the shakiness to your voice. He notices your lips moving, how they’re red and swollen and wet with saliva, knows you’re explaining the reasoning behind it. Likely to do with the person who asked you to dance earlier that night. The same one who decided to leave right after seeing you kiss.

It doesn’t sink in what you did, not fully, not until you feel a finger tracing along your bottom lip. You turn your gaze to look at him, at your best friend, the best friend you very much just kissed in a room full of people.

Cam places his hand over yours, still resting on his chest. Worried that you might feel how fast his heart is beating, how much it’s quickened in your presence, in your actions. “It’s okay. Besides it’s not like it’s the first time we kissed, right?”

That gets your attention, and he mentally pats himself on the back for it. To see the way you scrunch your face when he teases about, that. He’s not sure how well he’s hiding his smile, he doesn’t feel his cheek tighten from his dimple. Maybe he’s better at hiding some of his emotions than he thought. Yeah, right.

“Cameron Clarke! We were like 13 when that happened, you can’t compare that to now.” Your hands now rest on your hips, something his eyes take in happily. Maybe he can get his heart under control before you figure out just how much he actually liked that little kiss.

“More like 16.” He scoffs, his eyes dart to your lips, the way your tongue darts out to lick off the saliva, to the furrow of your brow, the look in your eyes. One he isn’t quite sure on how to read. You don’t look disgusted, regretful. Not how he thought you would. He’s able to read you better than anyone else, except this time. This time, even Cam can’t figure it out.

“You’re never going to let me live that down. That was bec-”

Stepping closer to you, Cam’s other hand reaches up to your face, his thumb rubbing along your bottom lip as it does so. Your words dying in your throat. Then he slowly slides his hand along the side of your face cradling it gently. Cam swallows, tilting your head so that you look at him, his lips inching closer.

“Cam..”

“They’re still there.” No they’re not.

“Just this once.”

Cam nods, just this once.

💙 G - “What do you mean you see Chris?” You try to keep your voice low, hoping to not be overheard. With one hand on the side of your face, in hopes of concealing your identity, which you have to admit must be pretty damn laughable considering how hard G is trying to hide their smile. You try to look behind you, but G’s grip on your arms tighten.

You can’t recall what you two where bickering about, something to do with proper pet bedding, an argument that was quickly forgotten when G stood frozen and mentioned Chris was behind you, on their way to the very elevator you two inhabit.

You turn in hopes of slamming a finger on the button to close the elevator door, but once you turn to look you freeze. Chris sees you, and you them. Their step falters and their eyes go to G and you.

Fingers gently grab your chin, turning you to look at them. G smiles, a sad smile, one you know they have given you before, but unable to recall when. They look torn, as if what they're about to do will undo them entirely. Maybe that's why it takes you by surprise, maybe this was not something you ever expected to happen between the two of you, at least not again.

G bends down slowly, you know you have time to pull away to stop what's about to happen. But if you're being honest that's the last thing you want to do.

Out of the corner of your eyes that Chris grips their hands, and your eyes close. Chris all but forgotten as G’s hand slides to your waist.

A low groan sounds in their throat, and they push you backward, your back against the walls of the elevator as the door finally closes. Chris no longer witnessing the exchange. You think G will pull away, this little charade done and over. But they don’t.

Their fingers dig into your side, their tongue sliding against your lips for permission, and you give it gladly.

After several minutes the two of you pull away, trying to catch your breaths, and G pulls away, as if having several feet between the two of you would help any. They're unable to look at you, wiping at their lip softly, "I..didn't know what else to do."

💚 Kara - For as bold Kara can be, when her lips claim yours it feels as if she can break at any moment. Her fingers are laced into your hair, and she has you pressed so tightly against the wall of the bar that it's even hard to breath. There's a hint of urgency there, underneath the fear. "Chris is going to kill me." She murmurs against your lips, but doesn't stop herself from going in for another kiss. The person who had been bugging her scoffed and walked away as soon as her lips touched yours. She doesn't seem as confident in her kiss, almost as if each soft peck was testing the waters, trying to see where you would stop. But you've been thinking about kissing her for awhile now, Chris be damned.

💛 M - "For fucks sake man. Can't you see they're not interested. Hello, am I invisible sir? Am I?" M is clasping your hand tightly, fingers intertwined and are now waving them around. The man looks taken aback, M still giving them a glare since this is now the sixth time the guy has asked for your number. Not looking as if they're going to back off M turns to you, so many emotions flicker over there face in a span of a few seconds. "M-mmph!" It's clumsy, it's messy, but it's M. Their teeth sinks into your lip briefly eliciting a moan from you, which only causes your mouth to open allowing their tongue to slip in. For as reserved M can be about things, you did not expect this. Not the way their hips press against you as if searching for more than just your lips. Their lips are minty thanks to the tea now laying forgotten on the counter of the cafe. "M...p-people are looking." They pull back just slightly, eyes heavy lidded and looking you over, "What?" The confusion on their face is something endearing, well it would be any other time. Your eyes shoot around, and they suddenly drop your hand, cheeks tinting under your gaze. "I...need....I..hot" Is all they can muster before you have to drag them out.

💜 Isaac - You're not sure who Isaac is hiding from, you just know that as soon as they saw them, they grabbed you, pulling you against their chest as their back rests against the car. "This is just a kiss alright? Don't...don't think of it as more." Isaac is quick to pull you towards them, hand falling on the back of your neck and lifting you upwards. For being "just a kiss" Isaac is putting far more feeling in it than you could have imagined. Especially given the low groan that makes its way through their throat. "Isaac, they're gone." You know they hear you, can feel their lips tighten ever so slightly as if wanting to frown, but Isaac pulls you in again. Their hands slightly shaking as they skim your sides, eventually resting on your hips. You pull back just enough to look at them, the way their eyes lock onto your lips as if that's the only thing they can see. "Not yet." They say, pulling you in for one last kiss, one last languid kiss that they think about for the rest of the night.

🖤 Ardent - "Oh, my goodness Denny! Is this them? This the one your uncle Nik mentioned you been bringing around, oooh aren't they cute." You had every intention of telling Ardent off today, you would be lying if you remembered why you were telling him off, you just remembered being pissed at him when you went to bed. So, surely it was for a good reason. Well, that was until you came across her. Who you assume is Ardent's mothers if her looks were any indication. She practically hangs off Ardent's arm, almost attempting to reach over and pinch your cheeks as she looks between the two of you. "I..I'm not sure what Nik said but I'm not-" Before you could speak another word Ardent yanks you to him, pulling himself away from his mom in the process. "Oh, well darling if you wanted privacy, you should have said so." She quickly smacks him on the back, making her way out the door. But not before inviting you to dinner later that night. "Don't forget to be safe sweetie!" Ardent's mom yells through the hall. Ardent kisses you even harder, as if her words angered him...but something tells you it was quite the opposite in fact. It's a rough kiss, one that leaves your lips sore and teeth slightly red from the way his teeth sink into your lip. "Think she's gone now, Denny. You know if you just wanted out of talking to your mom I could have sent Cam over." "God, do that and I'm raising your rent." He blows a breath, pushing the loose strands of hair from his eyes. "Oh yeah, well for doing that," you point to your lips then to his, "I expect a hell of a lot more than free rent for a month." "Is that right?" He places his arms on each side of you, pressing you flush against the wall. "What were you thinking, trouble?" You don't mind stirring him up, in fact it's become one of your favorite past times, but sometimes Ardent just doesn't back down, no matter how hard you tease him. "Ah...ah, oh coming Cam!" You duck out from under his arm and head toward the door. "Wait, be ready by five, I"ll pick you up." "For?" He doesn't say anything for a moment, instead picking up Cupid and holding her in his arms, honestly the man couldn't look more horrifying. Like a villain with an accomplice, that being Cupid. You don't miss the way his lip curls, the faintest of smiles on his face. "Dinner with the family."

[katyswrites]

don't call me 'baby'

PART 10 | SERIES

Pairing: Steve Harrington/fem!reader

Warnings: Sugardaddy!Steve, SMUT (18+), angst, mentions of pregnancy/a pregnancy scare, mentions of food and alcohol, unprotected p in v, daddy kink, oral sex (f receiving), creampie, ddlg dynamics, swearing, alcohol use, smoking, age gap, no use of y/n

Wordcount: 10.4K

A sugar daddy modern AU, a whirlwind summer romance in Italy, and two people from completely different walks of life, somehow finding each other in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. But, what will happen when summer ends?

PART 10 | meet me in the afterglow

FOUR MONTHS LATER

Your walk to work was chilly enough to warrant a coat. That was perhaps the thing you missed least about home in the U.S. - even though the winters certainly got cold here, it was nowhere near the sub-zero temperatures you had grown up with during the coldest time of year. Maybe the only thing you missed was snow - in all of your time living here, you had only gotten a brief dusting once, and it had melted by the following day.

Still, a week out from Christmas, you now needed to wrap something warm around yourself as you walked down the street, heading closer to the city center as your shift was due to start. 

You were technically two minutes late to your shift, the coffee shop busy enough to have a line going out the door when you arrived. Yet, your manager Francesco said nothing - a small spark of joy in your day. 

You didn’t necessarily need to go back to work - Steve’s money had yet to run out. But, you felt good about earning your own money - and, the less you had to draw on his remaining funds, the less you had to think about him.

You hadn’t seen or spoken to Steve since the night of your argument. Well, that was only partially true - you had received one piece of communication from him. It came a few days later - you had been moping in your apartment, having barely left your room for days, when an envelope arrived. It had his familiar writing and wax seal, with another wad of cash and a letter made out to you:

I promise this is the last you’ll hear from me. I am a man of my word, so I promise to help provide for you until you’re finished with school. I’ll be transferring enough money to your account to cover all of your expenses, so no need to worry about your rent, food, anything of the sort… I really do want you to be able to focus on school, okay? So, please don’t protest, or try to send the money back. Please feel free to use the credit card if you need to. 

I’m sorry it ended this way. We both knew it was going to, but I apologize if I said anything out of line the other night. I truly do wish you the best. 

Take care,

Steve

Reading it had been a punch to the gut. The formality of it, the finality of it… you would’ve rather that you never heard from him again. You had stashed the letter in a box under your bed, and not looked at it since.

A few weeks after that, you had pregnancy scare. It was silly, really - but, your period was late, and if was the first conclusion your mind had jumped to. You had called Robin in a panic, begging her to come home - she did, with four different brands of pregnancy tests. Those 15 minutes of waiting for results were the most agonizing of your life - then, upon seeing them all negative, you fell to your knees and burst into tears.

“It’s okay,” Robin had cooed, rubbing soothing circles on your back. “You’re good it was a false alarm - you’re probably just late because of stress -”

“I know,” you sobbed. “I just -”

“What is it?”

You then had sat up, chest heaving as you sobbed.

“He’s really gone isn’t he?”

Robin held you in her arms that night as you cried yourself to sleep.

To your knowledge now, he had gone back to the U.S. - was he still in Chicago? Or, did he go back to New York? You realized it was better for you to not ask these questions, or to think of him at all. As the weeks had turned into months, you found yourself thinking of him a little less each day - but you still thought of him. You saw him in the passersby as you walked down the street, in every car window, in every businessman walking through the door to order a coffee. Sometimes, you’d hear a laugh, or get a brief whiff of cigarette smoke, and swear it was him. But it never was - it never would be again.

The days had dragged on, but luckily, you often found yourself too busy to dwell too much on thoughts of Steve. Between work and school, your plate was pretty full. With graduation in mere weeks, you had spent the entire term studying and working on your thesis. Steve’s remaining money, at least, allowed you to work far less hours than you had before - a small blessing, you supposed. 

The day was moving pretty quickly, the morning rush busy enough that two hours flew by without much notice. It was only during the afternoon lull that you found yourself able to look up from the espresso machine - only to lock eyes with a familiar face through the window.

Eddie smiled back at you, waving. You couldn’t help but grin, and beckoned him to come inside. He bounded through the glass doors, bursting into the coffee shop with the infectious, chaotic energy he always carries with him.

“Bella, how are you?” he asked, leaning over the counter with a big grin.

“I’m okay,” you said, shrugging.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Just okay?”

“Oh well - you know, a bit stressed with the end of term and all. But, that’ll all be over soon.”

“I’m almost done, too - just finishing up my exams, all of that nonsense.”

“Do you have someone for your thesis?”

You nodded. “Professor Hopper - he’s always had a soft spot for me,” you said, smiling fondly, thinking of the seemingly-gruff. 

“I have Clarke - I don’t actually know how much he knows about photography, he teaches chemistry for godsake, but apparently it’s a hobby or something, so he’ll sign off on whatever I do,” Eddie said, laughing.

“Oh! I forgot to tell you - I actually have my own studio space now.”

“What? Eddie, that’s amazing!”

He grinned. “Thanks - I mean, I’m still technically freelance, but I’m hoping once I’m fully graduated more work will start coming in. But for now, I don’t mind having some spare time to practice with the band.”

You did your best to stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

“Right - don’t forget me when you make it as a big rockstar, Eddie.”

He let out a hearty laugh at that, the infectious kind that had you joining in - you hadn’t laughed like that in quite some time.

“You know, you should come by later to check it out,” Eddie said. “I mean, if you want -”

You thought for a moment, then nodded.

“Sure, why not - I get off in about a half hour -”

“Perfect,” he cried, clapping his hands together. “I’ll just wait around then - and, uh, can I get an espresso? Since I’m already here and all.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting a smile.

“Yeah, sure thing Munson - I’ll take my sweet time with it, just for you.”

The end of your shift flew by, and soon enough you were pulling off your apron, linking your arm in Eddie’s as he led you out the door and through the city.

The studio, as it turned out, was only a few blocks away. The space was small, but nice - a big glass storefront allowed plenty of light in, even with the fading sun, indicative of the short days of winter. Some of Eddie’s work hung framed on the walls - city scenes, candids of people on the street, bands in action at his favorite club… and even a few of you, from the project you posed for a few years ago.

“Wow - this is amazing, Eddie!” you exclaimed, glancing around the studio with genuine pride for your friend. You knew this was always the goal for him, what he always wanted to do.

“Grazie mille,” he said, beaming. 

“Do you have anything lined up?”

He nodded.

“Some - nothing too interesting. A few weddings, graduation photoshoots, things like that. Oh, do you want to see the photo lab?”

You let him lead the way into the back room, passing through a dimly-lit room with machines and equipment that you were sure you had no idea how to use. Newly developed photos were hanging around on clothespins, or spread across the table in the middle.

“Back there is the darkroom,” Eddie said, gesturing to a small door on the other side of the room. “But yeah, this is where the magic happens.”

“You develop all your pictures this way?” you asked, examining a few laid across the table.

He shook his head. “Not exactly - only the stuff I shoot on film. A lot of what I do is digital, and I edit that on my computer but… I really do love shooting film. I only really do that for specific things. Oh, which reminds me!”

He turned his back to you, rummaging through a filing cabinet until he produced a large manila envelope, extending it to you. You furrowed your brow, confused. You turned it to examine it properly - the only thing written on it was your name and a date, in Eddie’s telltale scrawl.

“What -”

“It’s those pictures I owe you, from your birthday party - sorry, it took me a while to get around to developing them.”

Oh. 

“Oh,” you said quietly, gripping the envelope a bit tighter. “Uh, thanks - that was really nice of you, Eddie.”

You were still staring down at the parcel in your hands, your hands shaking a bit - you had completely forgotten that Eddie had been taking pictures all night. Most likely because you had been a bit distracted at the time. But now…

“I think they turned out pretty nice, if you ask me,” Eddie said. “But, you can be the judge of that yourself.”

You pressed your mouth into a tight line, nearly feigning a smile as you finally met his eyes again. He was looking back expectantly, and you realized he wanted you to look at them now. 

“Oh, yeah,” you mumbled. “I guess I’ll just -”

You opened it up, sliding out the stack of photos - they were slightly bigger than the ones you had seen from a digital camera, on a beautiful matte paper that you knew must have not been cheap. This, you realized, was Eddie’s belated birthday gift to you.

You thumbed through the pictures - the first few were just candids of your friends on the dancefloor, or deep in conversation around the bar. There were a few of you and Robin, arms thrown around each other and smiling ear-to-ear.

There were quite a few solo shots of you, raising a glass to the camera, mid-laugh, or dancing - somehow, he had made it look like you truly were the center of attention, as if to tell people this is who we were there for! 

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, laughing quietly at a few of the shots, including one of Robin flipping off the camera as she kisses Vickie. Then, your smile dropped, because there he was.

Steve, looking as handsome as you remembered, but somehow also a stranger, or like a figment of your imagination. Somehow, a small part of your subconscious had convinced you over the last few months that perhaps he wasn’t real, a true figment of your imagination that had been too good to be true. But there he was, large as life, his arm wrapped around you as you smiled into the camera. You were smiling in his arms, a girl completely unrecognizable in some ways. In another photo, he’s pressing a kiss to your cheek as you laugh - you remembered that one being taken, that’s for sure. You gently trailed your fingers across the picture, as if you were hoping to reach in and pull that happy girl out, just to shake a bit of sense into her. You didn’t even realize you were crying until a fat wet teardrop his the page, rolling down and off the edge.

“Whoa - are you alright?” Eddie asked, his voice tinged with worry.

You jumped, having nearly forgotten that he was there at all. How long had you been staring at the pictures of Steve? For a few minutes, or hours? There was no way to know.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you said, the thickness in your voice betraying you. You pressed the heels of your hands under your eyes, willing the gentle tears to stop, sniffling.

“What’s wrong?” Eddie asked softly.

You laughed dryly, more hot tears welling up as you did.

“Nothing! I - they’re beautiful, Eddie. Really - thank you. You - you’ve really got a talent.”

Your voice wobbled a bit at the end, and you sniffled.

“I’m sorry, I - it’s nothing to do with you,” you assured him. “I just - I’ve been having a hard time lately.”

Eddie cocked his head, confused. Then, his eyes flitted down to the picture in your hands.

“Oh - I’m sorry, I - is this about him?” Eddie asked quietly, gesturing to the photos. You just nodded, avoiding his gaze again as you stuffed them back into the envelope.

“I didn’t know you two had broken up, I’m sorry -”

“We didn’t break up!” you snapped, harsher than intended. “Fuck, I - sorry, that came out wrong. We didn’t break up, because we were never exactly together. It’s just complicated.”

Eddie furrowed his brow. “Yeah, okay - well, I’m sorry to hear about your not-breakup. I guess I’m just a little surprised.”

“Why’s that?” you asked.

He shrugged. “I spent a long time looking at all of those when I was developing them - you know how they say pictures tell a thousand words?”

You nodded.

“Well - I take pictures of a lot of couples - weddings, engagement shoots, all of that… and I’ve never seen two people more in love than you two.”

You felt your chest tighten - maybe you were being a lovesick idiot at your party, but Steve?

You shook your head. “No - Eddie, it… it wasn’t like that. I can promise you that.”

Steve made that perfectly clear.

Eddie shrugged again. “I’m just telling you what I observed, that’s all.”

“Well maybe you should mind your business,” you grumbled.

Fuck. You shouldn’t have said that.

Eddie’s face fell a bit, and he slowly took a step back, hands shoved in his pockets.

“My apologies,” he whispered. He was hurt, that much was obvious. You mentally kicked yourself.

“No Eddie - I’m sorry, I didn’t -” 

You sighed, frustrated.

“Things have been, like, really weird the last few months and… it doesn’t matter.”

“I could tell,” he said, voice quiet. “You’ve been.. Distant.”

You nodded, the awkwardness filling the space between you two. You had fucked this up too, somehow.

“So,” you said, clearing your throat. “Uh, it’s getting late, and dark… I probably should head home.”

“Yeah, okay - good idea, I have some stuff to work on anyway.”

You both nodded, avoiding eye contact as you both headed out back into the studio.

It wasn’t until you were at the door that you turned to face Eddie again.

“The place really is beautiful… I’m proud of you,” you said sincerely. He offered a small smile in return.

“Thanks.”

“I also - the pictures are beautiful. Thank you for these, I - they’re great.”

“I’m sorry if they -”

“Don’t apologize,” you said firmly. “They’re great - you’ve really got a gift, you know.”

You could tell Eddie was fighting a real smile, a small win in your book.

“C’mon, you know my ego’s just fine on its own.”

You laughed, and without thinking, pulled him into a tight hug.

“I’m sorry I lost it a little earlier,” you whispered.

“It’s alright,” he said, pulling away. “Heartbreak is funny like that.”

You decided not to bother protesting his assessment this time, too tired to start a fight again just to feel something.

“Right, okay.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take out the photos with… him?” Eddie asked, gesturing down to the envelope.

“No, that’s alright - I’m a big girl, I can go through them. I’m definitely going to hang a few of these up though, so thanks again.”

“Take good care of yourself darling, alright? And come by any time - for any reason.”

It was an olive branch, an assurance that things were okay. You forced a smile, nodding.

“Thanks, Eddie - you’re a great friend, you know.”

You bid your farewells, and left the studio with a strange feeling settling within you. You pulled your coat a little tighter around you, stuffing the envelope underneath as you charged through the chilly evening air to the nearest bus stop.

You didn’t get home until nearly 6pm, the winter sky fully dark by then. By the time you walked a few blocks and up the stairs to your apartment, your face was stinging from the cold, the wind picking up more since that afternoon.

Robin was on the couch, a rerun of Friends playing on the TV.

“Hey! You’re back kind of late,” she remarked.

“Yeah - I ran into Eddie, funnily enough,” you replied, hoping you sounded nonchalant.

“Oh really? How is he? I miss him - we should really make a plan to hang out with him soon -”

“Yeah, for sure,” you said, kicking off your shoes and hanging your coat on the rack. “He’s good - I saw his new studio, it’s nice.”

“Oh, no way! That’s great - I need to go sometime -”

“Yeah, totally,” you said, absentminded. “Uh, I’ve got some stuff to do, but I’ll be out here later -”

“Maybe we can get takeout or something -”

“Yeah, perfect -” you tittered, closing your bedroom door behind you, eyes on the envelope in your hands.

You bit your lip, debating what to do. Part of you considered finding all of the pictures of Steve, and burning them. But, that felt a bit dramatic. You pulled out the stack again, sifting through until you found the shots of him. You couldn’t help but smile, looking at how happy the girl in the photos was - if only she knew how quickly things would fall apart that night. The photo of Steve kissing you cheek was your favorite - it was just full of pure, unbridled joy. The one after that was the one you stared at for quite some time, though. You were looking into the camera, grinning widely. Steve, however, wasn’t - no, he was looking at you. You stared at him for quite some time - and remembered Eddie’s words.

I’ve never seen two people more in love than you two.

You had thought it was crazy - but, in the picture, Steve was looking at you like you’d hung the stars. Like, if he didn’t have you, he’d be lost. He was looking at you with eyes full of love - you just hadn’t been looking.

You gasped, realizing what Eddie had seen that you couldn’t - maybe everything had meant more to Steve than he had let on. No, that was crazy - wasn’t it?

What happened next didn’t have much explanation - it was probably crazy. You found yourself Googling Steve’s company headquarters in Chicago - it couldn’t be this easy, could it? But it was.

A quick call through the directory brought you to his secretary, a bubbly woman who was more than happy to help. You pretended to be the secretary of a business partner you had remembered Steve mentioning, saying how you wanted to send a thank-you gift - it had been too easy to get his home address, really. And, a confirmation that he was back in Chicago.

The next morning, you sent out an envelope, sticking on international postage. You debated not putting your name on the return address, but ultimately decided to include it - he’d recognize the address anyway. When you dropped it at the post office, you walked away feeling a sense of relief - and, perhaps, just a bit unhinged. TIme would tell if anything came of it. But, at the very least, it felt like finally closing the chapter of your life that had been defined by Steve Harrington. And, that was a good thing… right?

********

The day before Christmas Eve, you received great news: confirmation that you had passed all of your exams, your thesis receiving glowing feedback from the professors in your department. Your degree, which studied Art History and Travel and Tourism Management, meant that you would actually be able to stay here - you hoped to work in tourism in some way right here in Rome, or perhaps work in one of the city’s many museums - being bilingual would help, and more importantly, it meant you never had to set foot back in the United States again, if you didn’t want.

Christmas brought its usual cheer and celebration, complete with mulled wine and a potluck dinner you and Robin held for some of the other foreign students you were friendly with, knowing they didn’t have families to go to for the holidays. Your graduation only brought extra festivities, including a speech prepared by Robin given as a toast at dinner, saying how proud she was of you (and, how jealous she was that you didn’t have to worry about schoolwork anymore). It was silly yet sincere enough to make you tear up and pull her into a big hug. Eddie and Jonathan even swung by for a bit, joining in on the celebration until the wee hours of the morning. Robin and Vickie were all over each otherYou ate and drank to your heart’s content before stumbling to bed, leaving cleanup in the kitchen for the morning.

The morning of Boxing Day, it turned out, was actually the afternoon, with you and Robin oversleeping. You, to your own relief, felt tired, but not too hungover - the same couldn’t be said for Robin and Vickie, who stumbled into the kitchen with grimaces on their faces and grumbles as a greeting.

You spent most of the day cleaning up from the last two days’ festivities, washing dishes and clearing away wrapping paper, wiping countertops and vacuuming just enough until your home felt semi-in order. 

You were still in your pajamas as it was getting dark again in the evening, a rarity these days. When Robin said she was heading out to dinner with Vickie and likely would be staying at her place that night, you bid her farewell, looking forward to some time alone to fully relax and unwind. 

It was several hours later, after scrounging together a dinner of Christmas leftovers and half-dozing on the couch while a movie played, that your doorbell rang. You sat up with a start, your heart jumping at the unexpected intrusion. You stumbled to the door, grumbling about who could possibly be here at this hour - maybe Robin decided to come back after all, and got locked out again? You were ready to playfully ridicule her when you opened the door. But when you saw who was standing on the other side, you froze.

Steve Harrington was there on your doorstep, barely illuminated in the dim light. His chest was heaving, his hair just a bit disheveled. His eyes widened when he saw you, and you imagined you did the same. Your heart plummeted to your stomach at the sight of him, so real and alive in front of you. Were you dreaming? Was this some sick prank?

Neither of you said anything for a moment, two mouths hanging open, searching for the words.

“It’s Christmas,” you blurted out, the first words you’ve said to him in over four months.

“It’s December 26th,” he replied, simply and casually.

“I - well, it’s still a holiday, kind of.”

“Yeah, I know - do you know how hard it is to catch a last-minute flight on Christmas?”

You just stood there in the doorway, unable to think of anything else to say - what the fuck?

“What are you doing here?” you asked, words biting. You were lashing out a bit, but you didn’t care - this moment right now reminded you of a similar one over the summer, when he came to your doorstep to explain how he wasn’t engaged. What was his excuse now?

“Why did you send me this?” he asked, holding up a familiar envelope - the photo.

Why did you? You weren’t certain of that answer yourself. So, you went with the first explanation that came to your head.

“It’s a good picture of you,” you said quietly.

He rolled his eyes.

“Do not - I don’t hear from you for months, then I get this in the mail - on Christmas Eve, mind you -”

“I’m sorry, were you supposed to hear from me?”

“I don’t know!” he cried. “Maybe?��

You scoffed. “You can’t be serious - you made it very clear that you never wanted to see me again.”

“I - what?”

“I wish you well? Take care? We ended things, Steve - what else was I meant to think?”

He sighed, his shoulders sagging.

“I don’t know. I guess part of me - it doesn’t matter. But, what am I supposed to make of this?” he asks, waving the envelope.

“I - Eddie gave me a bunch of pictures he took at my birthday party… I thought maybe you’d want that one.”

He took a tentative step closer towards you, gauging your reaction. You held your ground, not breaking eye contact.

“Is that the only reason?” he asked, voice low.

You felt your heartbeat quicken, your palms clammy - he really was just so handsome. Still, there was something so boyish about him, something that reminded you of why you fell for him in the first place. He had cut his hair a bit, his summer tan faded - and he looked tired. Then again, you probably did too - you suddenly became conscious of the fact that you were in your pajamas, still looking like you had just woken up - you wished you could disappear, never to be perceived again.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “The only reason.”

He was close enough now that you could see his Adam’s Apple bob as he gulped, his eyes glancing up and down your form as he took a deep breath.

“Tell me that, when you sent this, there wasn’t at least a small part of you that hoped I’d respond - that, when you sent this, you hoped I’d call, or show up here. If there wasn’t, I’ll walk away right now, and you’ll never have to see me again.”

There it was - everything laid out on the table. So much was still unsaid - but, it was obvious that he also had been hurting the last few months, that he didn’t want this to end, maybe even nearly as much as you did. 

“You really flew all the way here because I sent you a photo?” you whispered.

He nodded. “Of course I did.”

“You realize how crazy that is, right?”

He chuckled dryly.

“Well, they do say it makes you do crazy things.”

“...it?” you asked, voice wavering.

He nodded.

Oh.

“Come inside,” you murmured. “It’s pretty cold out there.”

As soon as the door was shut behind him, he began spiraling into a new explanation.

“I hope you know that I didn’t come here just to - you’re right, it is kind of crazy, but I didn’t know what else to do, after everything that happened -”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” you said, cutting him off. “I don’t want to talk at all.”

You both stood there for a moment, eyes locked on eachother. Then, as if reading each other’s minds, you both moved at once - you crashed your lips into his, fast and desperate. He sighed against your lips, pulling you close as his tongue slipped into your mouth. 

You felt like crying - you had missed him so much, more than you had realized - his voice, his warmth, his scent - it brought everything flooding back, the feelings you had buried in an attempt at self-preservation. But now, as you kissed him, you felt the tears well up, stinging your eyes as they rolled down your face, hot and fast.

“Whoa - baby, it’s okay - what’s wrong -”

Baby. 

“Nothing,” you cried, wiping the tears away. “I just - I really fucking missed you.”

You felt stupid to admit it, but then again, didn’t he come close to confessing that himself just a few moments ago?

“I know, I know, baby - you have no fuckin’ idea -”

Another kiss, passionate and apologetic.

“I didn’t mean any of what I said that night,” you gasped, pulling him closer. “I was just so scared -”

“I know, me too, baby - m’sorry -”

Baby. Babybabybaby.

He was holding your face between his hands now, backing you up until you were pressed against the wall, his lips finding yours again. He titled his head down to nuzzle at your throat, pressing his lips to the sensitive skin there. You tipped your head back, giving him full access to do as he pleased. He kissed and nipped at your neck, until you were moaning and crying out his name, pulling at his coat until it fell off of his shoulders. You twisted your hands in his button-down, his hands squeezing tighter on your waist in response.

“Fuck, Steve,” you breathed. “I’m sorry -”

“Stop with that,” he said, firmly taking your face in his hands again, catching your lips in another gentle kiss. “You’re right, I just realy don’t want to talk anymore -”

Then he was kissing you again, swallowing your noises as you whined his name, fingers gripping his hair.

“Bedroom, now,” you told him. “Please -”

“Yeah, okay.”

He couldn’t keep his hands off of you, both of you stumbling down the small hallway and into your bedroom, Steve slamming the door closed behind him with his foot.

“No Robin?” he asked, lips finding your neck again.

“No - ah! She’s at Vickie’s tonight -”

“Thank Christ,” he growled. “I don’t know how quiet I’m capable of being right now.”

He was apparently as desperate as you were, lips finding yours hungrily as he pulled your oversized t-shirt over your head, eyes practically rolling to the back of his head when he saw your breasts.

“No bra?” he asked.

“I was lounging around, until you showed up -”

“Thank god,” he practically snarled, his hands finding the small of your back to pull you close.

You reached between yourselves, unbuttoning his shirt, fingers slipping as they shook with anticipation. He reached down to help you, until he eventually shrugged the shirt off. You wrapped your arms around him, pressing your bare chest to his, nearly crying again from the contact.

“I really missed you,” he whispered, a man ruined. “I never thought I’d be able to have you like this again -”

“None of that,” you murmured, pressing a finger to his lips. “It’s alright.”

You just stared at him, running your hands down his chest as you took a deep breath.

“I need to tell you something.”

“What is it?” he asked, face flickering with concern. “Oh god, are - are you seeing someone else? I didn’t even ask -”

“No! No, nothing like that,” you assured, biting your lip. “I just - do you remember the night of my birthday on our trip, on the rooftop?”

He nodded. “That was a really nice night.”

“I haven’t been totally honest with you,” you admitted, heart racing as you were ready to lay out the thing you had been terrified to admit aloud.

“About what?” he asked softly, cupping your cheek gently with his palm.

“Remember when I said something in Italian, and you asked what it meant? And I just said it meant I loved the gift, the star thing?”

He nodded. You took a deep, shuddering breath.

“That wasn’t exactly true. I - I said that I was in love with you,” you managed, voice quivering at the end. “That’s why I was so scared - I didn’t realize until I said it… I had broken our rule, our number one rule -”

“Hey, hey -” he cooed, shaking his head. “Did you mean it?”

You hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah - I still do.”

The few seconds that passed after that had your stomach doing somersaults - what if he still didn’t feel that way, and everything he had said in the doorway was bullshit? You thought you were going to be sick -

But his face softened, his eyes glistening - was he going to cry?

“Fuck the rules. I stopped following those a long time ago,” he said.

Your heart fluttered, your face heating.

“Are you saying -”

“How did you say it in Italian again?” he asked. “I’m sorry, I’ve been slacking on my lessons without you around.”

You laughed. “Oh, um, it’s sono innamorato di te. It translates directly as I’m in love with you, or I’m falling for you.”

He nodded. “Well then - sono innamorato di te.”

You felt like your chest was about to explode, and before you knew it, you were crying again. He was too, you realized, his cheeks glistening with tears as he choked a sob with laughter.

“We could’ve saved ourselves a lot of trouble if we both just said that in the first place,” he said, reaching to wipe away some of your tears.

“How long?” you asked.

“Since the night of the gala I brought you to. So… longer. I guess I win.”

You sobbed again, Steve swallowing the sound with another kiss. It’s wet and salty with tears, a mess of apologies and confessions.

“Steve - I -”

“I know, baby,” he whispered, kissing your salty cheeks. “It’s alright - I’m here now -”

The conversation truly stopped after that - you couldn’t keep your hands off of one another, shedding clothes until you were nude and devouring each other with desperation unlike anything you had ever felt before.

Steve was pressing his lips between your breasts when you asked, voice breathy and filled with need.

“Steve - I need you, please -”

“Mm - yeah, okay -”

Before he could move, you were reaching down to grasp his cock in your hand. He gasped, pupils blown as his head thumped back against the wall. The noise that came out of him was unholy, wrecked and ruined as you brushed your thumb along his leaking tip.

“Christ, baby -”

“Can I suck you off, please?” you asked, desperate to make him come undone. 

“Honey - you can’t - I just, I wanna fuck you so bad… I won’t last if I let you get your mouth on me, baby.”

You pouted, even as your heart raced with the thrill of knowing you’d have him inside you again.

“Next time,” he said, “I swear.”

A promise of a next time, of a thousand more times - you started kissing him again, lips bruising his - losing yourself in any drink or drug would never compared to losing yourself in Steve Harrington, you decided.

“Get on the bed,” he muttered, gently pushing you back. You did as he asked, falling back onto the mattress gently as he joined you, face hovering inches from yours.

His hair was a mess, pupils blown and lips glossy. He just shook his head, as if in disbelief.

“What?” you asked.

“You’re just so beautiful,” he breathed. 

You felt your face heat, and you buried your face in your hands.

“Shut up.”

“About you? Not likely.”

Before you could come up with a clever remark, he was kissing your neck again, his lips traveling down slowly between the valley of your breasts, taking his time - he was going to leave bruises, you already knew.

But he didn’t stop, traveling down, down, down - 

“What are you -”

“I never said I didn’t want to taste you first,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. “I miss having my mouth on you so fuckin’ much -”

“Fuck,” you gasped. “You’re unreal -”

“Says you,” he retorted. Whatever you planned to say next died on your lips, anything resembling a coherent thought dissolving as his lips found your cunt.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, back arching as his tongue swirled around your clit.

“Just as fuckin’ sweet as I remembered,” he whispered, his breath against your pussy making your chest heave.

He licked a stripe along your slit, making your back arch off the bed, your eyes fluttering closed.

“Be loud for me, baby,” he murmured, lips finding your clit again. You did as he asked, moaning and crying out his name as he devoured your pussy, eliciting desperate sounds from you as your fingers wound themselves in his hair. He groaned as you pulled on his locks, encouraging you to continue doing so as he opted to slide a finger inside you.

“Fuck - Steve! Ohmygod, fuck -”

You felt him smile as he lapped and licked at your folds, adding a second finger and beginning to pump them in earnest, finding that spot inside of you too easily. 

You were crying out, bucking your hips against Steve’s lips, like putty in his hands. For about ten minutes you were completely his, mind numb with pleasure as he took you apart with his mouth. You let him, feeling the blunt fingernails of his free hand digging into your thigh, pulling you as close as possible.

“Steve - I’m gonna - I’m so close, y’feel too good -”

Encouraged, he picked up the pace a bit, sending you completely over the edge. When you came, you saw stars, grinding down on Steve’s mouth and fingers. You were screaming, and he helped you through it, nuzzling against your core as you pulsed around his fingers. Your hand left his hair and found his temple, gently coaxing him closer as you rode out your orgasm.

You were still breathing heavily as he kissed his way slowly back up your body, worshiping every inch of skin he could find. YOu didn’t let your eyes open again until he was face-to-face with you, chin glistening with your release as he wore a smug grin.

“Such a good girl for me,” he murmured. “Tasted so good… you came so hard for me -”

“Mm -” you hummed, pulling him down for a kiss. You tasted yourself on him, the sensation completely euphoric.

“Do you need some time?” he asked gently.

You ran a finger over your clit, still sensitive and puffy, and shook your head.

“No, I’m okay - I actually really need you to fuck me.”

“Thank god,” he said, exasperated. “I don’t think I can go another second without fucking you -”

“I know -”

“I would dream about you, you know - all the time. I’d wake up in the middle of the night with a hard-on, of a mess in my boxers like a fuckin’ teenager -”

“I know what you mean,” you admitted, recalling a few times you had thought of him as you touched yourself since he’d left. 

“Please tell me you’re still on the fuckin’ pill -”

“Yeah, I am - God, Steve -”

“I know, I know - ready baby?”

You nodded, locking your eyes with his as he positioned himself above you, pushing inside of you ever so slowly. You could tell he was holding back, doing everything he could to not enter you in one rough movement. You winced at the stretch, nearly forgetting just how big he was. He kissed apologies across your face, gasping as he felt your warm walls envelope him.

“Fuck -” he groaned, burying his face in your neck. “I can’t believe I went so long without this - you feel so fuckin’ perfect, baby - such a tight, perfect pussy -”

“You feel so good,” you breathed, digging your fingernails into his shoulderblades. “Steve - I’m so full, please fuck me -”

He did as you asked, rolling his hips against yours, eliciting a groan from both of you. He was still holding back you could tell - but you didn’t have time for that, not after months of missing him, of missing this -

“Let go, baby,” you whispered. “Please -”

“What did you just call me?” he asked.

“I - baby,” you repeated. You realized you never had before - was that wrong?

“Say it again,” he breathed.

“Baby,” you breathed, gasping as he thrust into you a little harder. 

“Baby, please - fuck me, let go,” you cried.

It became fast and hard quickly, the desperation you shared impossible to mask. The slapping of his hips against yours was positively dirty, Steve’s arms caging you underneath him as he pounded into you. Your hand snaked down between you, your own finger finding your clit.

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned, continuing his relentless pace. “Touch yourself for me, just like that - M’not gonan last long, I’m sorry, you just feel too good -”

“It’s okay,” you assured, pressing a kiss to his lips. “I want you to lose it.”

He groaned, the room filling with the sound of slapping skin and moans, your names on each other’s lips.

Nothing else mattered, not when Steve was making you feel like this, not when he had flown across an ocean on a whim, a desperate hope to just see you again, even if only for a moment. You suddenly became so overwhelmed with love for this man, this person who had turned your world upside down - it was indescribable, impossible to even express. So you just held him tight, burying your face into his shoulder.

“M’close - I need you to come with me, baby - can you do that? I know you can, you’re always so good for me -”

You nodded, unable to formulate words anymore.

“I fuckin’ love you,” he cried, hips stuttering, his thrusts growing sloppier. “So much, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you - I love you, baby -”

His words sent you over the edge, white-hot pleasure surging through your body as you screamed his name. The feeling of you clamping around him sending him into his own orgasm. He spilled inside of you, your name on his lips like a prayer. He practically collapsed on top of you, the feeling of his heartbeat against yours feeling like home, like it was always meant to be this way.

Your breaths were labored, sweet kisses peppered across skin. Neither of you spoke for quite some time. After he rolled off of you, he immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you as close as physically possible.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, slow and gentle. It was only when you pulled back, brushing some of his sweaty hair away from his face, that you broke the silence.

“I love you, too,” you murmured. You brushed your fingers along his face, and he caught your wrist, pressing kisses to your palm and knuckles, as if determined to worship you every chance he got.

“I want more than an arrangement,” he whispered. “I don’t want rules, or a deal, or -”

“Yeah, that was obvious,” you replied, chuckling. “And, me too.”

“And, you were right - you have school, and I never wanted you to think I just wanted you like a trophy or something - you have your own life, aspirations, and i know that - I just like spoiling you, but I never wanted you to give up who you are,” he said, face soft. “I need you to know that.”

“I do,” you murmured.

You really did. 

“Besides, I graduated.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What? When?”

“Officially? A few days ago.”

He smiled, soft and sincere - part of you was worried he might cry again.

“Congratulations - I’ll have to take you out to celebrate.”

“Mm - sounds good to me. How long - when are you here until?”

There was still life to reckon with, after all - living on two different continents, jobs, obligations - the kind of thing that could ruin this. But, he just shook his head.

“I bought an open-ended ticket. So, until whenever you want.”

“I - what? What about work?”

He shrugged. “Turns out, when you run the place, you can get away with that stuff.”

Your jaw dropped.

“What? Are you serious?”

He nodded. “Brenner’s out. I’m in - youngest CEO in the company’s history.” 

You laughed, pressing your palm to your forehead as you stared at the ceiling in disbelief.

“Steve - that’s amazing. But how -”

“Shhh - we’ll figure everything out later. But, let’s at least ring in the new year together, yeah?”

You nodded cautiously - he really was here, now, and wanted to make it work.

“Okay,” you said. “Sounds good.”

“Hey - you know what’s really pissing me off, though?”

“What?” you asked, wary as a pit of dread formed in your gut.

“I have to thank Eddie fucking Munson for fixing this.”

You laughed, a real, hearty laugh, and in that moment, you realized things were going to be okay.

******

That night, you slept better than you had in months, safe and warm in Steve’s arms. That was, until you woke to Robin’s scream the next morning, both of you shooting up in bed with a start.

“WHAT IS HE DOING IN YOUR BED?” she cried, shielding her eyes. “God - I wish I could bleach my eyes - motherfucker -”

Then, the door was slamming shut, Robin bemoaning her luck as she bolted down the hall to her own room.

You felt your face heat with embarrassment, sinking under the covers.

“Well - I guess I owe her an explanation -”

“Later,” Steve saidly, shaking his head incredulously. “For Christmas, I’m getting you a fucking industrial lock for that door!”

Then you were laughing, blissful and unable to control yourself, Steve joining you. He kissed the giggles away, pulling your body to his, and not much talking happened after that.

It didn’t matter what real life held after this - because Steve was here, and he was yours. Wherever you ended up, you realized, if you were with Steve, you would be home.

He was here to stay.

author's note: Hi y'all - thanks for your patience! This story isn't quite done - there will be an epilogue posted tomorrow. But, that's essentially the conclusion of don't call me 'baby' - I told you it would be a happy ending! Shoutout to @is-writing for some help with this. And of course as always, Em, without whom this fic wouldn't have happened. Comments, reblogs, and messages are always welcome - keep an eye out for the epilogue!

[notathingjustthere]

Till Morning

Summary: A small argument escalates. Soft Simon.

Notes: my sister did a dramatic read with this in the background. they apparently had some rich character in mind.

Pairing: Simon x Reader

It was nothing serious at first so you insisted on resolving the issue immediately, and of course, he wanted to be anywhere else but there to talk about it. Neither one of you were in the mood, him more so than you, and though you knew better than to bug him about it you were only worried about calming your anxiety. You were absorbed in apprehension causing your voice to carry, wholly fixed on reconciling yet disregarding Simon’s solace. It was a second too late when you registered the slight rise to his voice, he was now approaching anger at your persistence. You decide to drop it on instinct, but now Simon is riled up matching your initial resolve. 

It was your turn to be uncomfortable, unprepared for the vices he spewed, it was nothing cruel, but his tone stirred up a fret. “You wanted to talk, so let’s talk love” he snides. This was not what you wanted, it was much less calm than you hoped, and now you wanted out, having lost direction. If only you had listened. The dread was now up to your chest and everything was beginning to feel muted, you needed fresh air. “No don't walk away now,” he grabs your arm scornfully, preventing you from leaving. “Let fucking go of me.” he easily loosened his grip, realising how much the situation had escalated having never seen such a reaction from you. 

It had been a year and a half of knowing each other and another year of living together. Things worked out surprisingly quickly, and Simon had never felt so seen, till he met you. You would have a tiff here and there but now as he watched you relieve the itch from your underarms, he scolded himself for missing how heavy and slow your breathing had gotten. Your palm on your chest, as you concentrate on breathing, was more of an indicator that this had gone beyond a petty quarrel. You felt that you had let your intuition down, somehow not foreseeing the left turn that this took. 

The fresh cold air felt nice as it swept across your face, and the backyard provided the console you needed. You were breathing in more air than you could hold in but it slowly cut through the suffocating uneasiness. Simon let you be, keeping an eye on you from the door, you seemed to know how to handle yourself. You felt stupid whenever you attempted to wane yourself from a panicked state with the methods you came across online, but you tried it despite whether they were effective or not. You sit on the staircase in silence once you feel grounded. You can feel Simon’s orbs boring into the back of your head, and you gather your thoughts to say something after a while.  

“I’m sorry if you feel like an asshole, I should have listened when you said you didn't wanna talk about it” you admitted. 

He gruffed as he moved to sit next to you, saying nothing for a while before deciding to reply. “No, I should be apologising, shouldn’t have raised my voice like that.” He grabs your shoulder to bring you closer, and you turn to him with tears threatening to spill, and he realises he doesn’t remember the last time you cried, at least in front of him. “I just didn't wanna go to bed angry you know?” He nods, rubbing your arm in comfort, agreeing with your sentiment. “I just prefer to talk things out, and you’re leaving tomorrow, so…” you don't finish your thought but he knows you make a good point. 

“Does that normally happen when things get too loud?” He asks. You sniffle, wiping away the tears that do escape, taking his question into account. You lay your head on his chest, still in your head.

 “I don't know… It's been a while, but I suppose so.” you pause before going on. “ I walk away sometimes too, I guess I’ve never had someone else walk away, so I know how frustrating that feels now ” he chuckles at your resolve. “I get it, you wanted to remove yourself before things escalated.” That was your last thought, and now you could revel in the silence. Simon loved how insightful you could be most times, this moment being no exception. 

“How about this, we can agree to never go to bed angry. If either one of us doesn’t wanna talk, we can leave it for the morning.” He breaks his silence, pressing a kiss on your head. You couldn’t agree more, pleased with how it ended. 

[chrattenthusiast]

Hate— Matthew sturniolo smut

(not proof read )

authors note 💌 — this is my FIRST time writing smut on this app so please forgive me for this 😔 with that being said I will be taking requests if my account actually reaches ANYONE. It’s kinda long and a little bit angsty but if you like that AND a good old enemies to lover trope (but without the love part!?) this is for you!!!

WARNINGS: nsfw, sexual content, minors dni!!!!!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You and matt never had a strong connection. The dynamic of your interactions with him were unclear, you couldn’t comprehend why the blue-eyed man barely acknowledged you, except during heated arguments where nick served as a mediator or the instances where you found yourself under him late at night

On this particular night, you patiently waited until the clock struck 3 a.m. before quietly slipping out of Nick's bed. It didn't seem to matter that Nick could sleep through anything, even an apocalypse.

You then made your way to Matt's bed and lightly tapped on the door three times."

the door swings open and before you could even mutter a sentence, Matt pulls you into the room, shutting the door and slamming you against it.

“you’re late” he says

“ That’s rich coming for a man that begs like a little subby bit-“

you are instantly cut off as matt smashes his lips onto yours. he deepens the kiss letting it get a little too heated, moments later you feel his tongue against yours

“open” he mumbles

you instantaneously obey even though matt was the number 1 person on the list of people you hated, you always caught yourself following his instructions

he grips your jaw, forcing your mouth to open slightly, taking the opportunity– he spits into your mouth

“swallow it like the slutty bitch you are ”

you feel yourself pool after those words leave his lips

matt decided to play it safe by moving down to your neck leaving small kisses

you don’t trust yourself to urge him to go quicker but matt gets the memo when a groan of frustration leave your mouth —he reaches inside your pants running a finger between your folds

“ interesting, you sure get wet so fast for the person you hate ”

“can we move this to the bed cause i do not have a problem getting dick from someone else ”

his hands clutch the flimsy tank top you have on and pulls it over to your head, lifting you up with ease

he walks over to his neatly made and tosses you to the bed smiling maliciously as he watches you bounce on his bed, his eyes dilating more as he watches your chest bounce

he moves onto your sweatpants tossing it somewhere across the room putting his undivided attention onto your underwear, he takes it off slowly knowing it would get under your skin.

Getting frustrated you start to groan, and in a split second he shoves your panties into your mouth

giving you a deadpan look, “ since you have a hard time keeping quiet “ he says

before further protesting, he shoves two fingers into you instantly groaning at how wet you are for him

he liked that, the idea that no one else could satisfy you, he thinks that he’d rather have you hate him knowing you’d always end up in his bed late at night and not in the comfort of another man.

His lips envelop your clit, and your head falls back involuntarily. He sucks it, and you’re greatful that the black lace in your mouth kept you from letting out the loudest moan of your life.

mixtures of whimpers, leave your mouth as your eyes start to tear up with how overwhelming it all is, “my cry baby, he whispers

you start tossing and moving around due to how stimulated you are.

matt holds you down as he circles his tongue around your clit sucking hard but pumping his fingers in and out of you roughly just how you like it. seconds later you feel yourself squirting but he doesn’t hault , you reach out to grab his arm but he stops you mid way

“i’m not done with you yet” he whispers

he takes off his sweatpants, pulling the panties out of your mouth.

he flips you over on all fours and you find yourself face to face with the mirror against his wall

you feel his tip against your folds and you find yourself unconsciously backing up towards him. he instantly slides into you filling you up, you feel your eyes shut racked with pleasure –when matt grabs your jaw.

“ no i need you to look at yourself for me yeah?, look away and i’ll stop.”

you immediately make eye contact with him and that’s when he smiles “you’re always such a good girl for me, taking me so well ”

he picks up the pace of his thrusts, fighting himself to not cum cause you felt so intoxicating — he would never admit that to you he was terrified with the thought of you pushing him away if he ever admitted that he felt anything else but hate towards you

he would rather argue with you all day than loose you. he didn’t like the thought of you with anyone else but him– sure it was selfish but he didn’t care he loved that you were always ready for him down the hallway every time you were over.

you gasp as you feel him pull you to his chest feeling him sink deeper, he wraps his arms around your torso forcing you to take every inch he gave you

in that moment you’re his, you don’t care about the insults you throw at each other, it’s almost like everything he did was perfect?

“im so close please don’t stop “ you whimper

“ i know baby” “ you wanna come for me ?” he says looking at you through the mirror hitting ever perfect spot, giving you tender kisses on along the nape of your neck

you lost the ability to form a sentence as he thrusts gets rougher all of a sudden remembering how you teased him about getting involved with another man

“answer me “

“yes please “ you say not caring how stupid you sound or the fact that he’d use this against you in the mere future

“ you still feel like getting dick from someone else?”

“no” you reply instantly

“no one can ever make you feel like thid , can they pretty?”

“no i swear please i can’t-”

“can’t what ? “ he mocks you

“you can’t take it ?”

“ i think you can ”he encouraged

“take it for me baby”

you continue to meet his hard thrusts working yourself even though all you want to do is come around the man you hate the most

“ atta girl, look at yourself, so pretty taking every inch of me”

he reaches down your folds, circling your senstive clit pushing you further towards the climax, you feel yourself coming he presses his hands against your mouth muffling your screams

whispering sweet nothings into your ear

“that’s it , let it all out for me baby

he begins to groan as he feels himself reaching his climax, not trusting himself either he grabs your neck giving you a harsh kiss. as he releases himself inside you

you collapse against him as pleasure consumes the both of you

he runs his finger against the knots of you hair

“you okay “ he whispers

nodding your head as you couldn’t mutter a single sentence.

he smiles at you, gently wiping the fallen tears from your eyes, he looks down at the both of you connected,

his eyes trained at his dick swallowed by your tight folds, cautiously pulling out — refusing to give you a break you feel his fingers at the entrance of your swollen cunt, not letting his cum slip out. you open your mouth to gasp but you are met with a gentle kiss.

he moves to grabs his boxers putting them on you feeling a sinking weight of disappointment in your chest.

you start to look for your materials he trashed around his room thinking that it was time for you to leave when hault your actions when he speaks suddenly “what are you doing ?”

“leaving ” you reply monotonously

“ sit down, i’m running you a bath ”

this was an unusual for you, you were used to men giving you the cold shoulder after a round of intimacy

you try your best to ignore the weird feeling that bubbles in your chest— secretly enjoying his civility towards you, knowing that the next day everything would go back to the way things always were — leaving a bitter taste of unresolved emotions in the air.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

@mattsd0ll @loveesiren @christinarowie332 @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @mangosrar @kenzieiskoolaid @lucvly @recklesssturniolo

[luvsreiner]

We (in this case me) need a fic where Toji and the reader have a somewhat sad relationship, where she has to deal with being placed in the shadow of his deceased wife, but she becomes pregnant and arguments begin because , how dare you try to do this? He initially rejects the pregnancy, taking into account that he already had megumi and didn't want another baby, he didn't want his old family to be replaced or whatever, whatever the reason, but over time he starts to accept it.

The problem is that he doesn't show this, he just continues to refuse to get involved and this makes the reader understand that she would be a single mother even in marriage and that despite her doing everything she could, she didn't belong to that family as she would have liked, so she leaves after saying goodbye. of a Toji who would go to work and a Megumi who would go to school. She leaves and leaves the divorce papers on the coffee table with a letter talking about how she felt and how she needed to distance herself.

So when Toji comes home and notices everything in silence, he thinks it's weird because she normally wouldn't leave everything off and go to bed before ten. He notices the letter and reads it, feeling mixed feelings as he thinks about the words she wrote.

As time passed and missing her became increasingly difficult to ignore, he decided to tell Megumi the truth about how she had left, correcting the lie about her traveling to visit her parents as he said before. So Toji has to deal with a barrage of questions and a child crying about how he had lost another mother, which made him even more worried and distressed about the situation. He gets in touch with her and tries all the time to find out where she was now, with the intention of visiting her and asking her to come back, but when he does so, she responds by saying that she no longer trusts his words and cannot see the feeling that he said he felt was true. With that, the conversation ends talking about the baby and how they would do it from then on, she gave some ways of dealing with what he accepted and from that day on, life as separated parents began. He would go to the appointments even if he was silent for most of them, he would be there on the day of the birth and help her because she was scared and he knew he had to support his (ex) wife in such a difficult time. When the child was born, they were blessed with a beautiful girl with dark hair like Toji, but her mother's appearance and it was one of the happiest days of their lives.

As incredible as it may seem, he helped her postpartum, and always visited them both when he wasn't at work, taking Megumi with him since he couldn't be alone and needed to create a bond with his little sister. As life went on, Toji managed to spend more time with the girl, now receiving her every weekend at his house, he always picked her up on Friday and took her on Sunday, and it was always the moments when he most felt anxious, despite always calling to talk to her (or just using it as an excuse to talk to you) and visiting the girl almost every two dayshimself by surprise while making dinner, he cleaned the wound and asked the girl more about the subject.

Apparently a tall, blond man was there quite often, taking a pink-haired boy with him and drinking tea with them. Did Toji worry about knowing who that man was, a friend or a boyfriend? Did you trust him so much that you took him close to your daughter? He didn't even realize that he repeated these questions in front of him after once again leaving the child at home. Your answer? He's a long-time friend who you recently got back in touch with. Nothing more, he already had someone waiting for him at home.It was a relief for Toji to hear this, he knew you didn't owe him loyalty, but the idea of ​​seeing you moving on made him bitter and even jealous. He said goodbye to you and went home thinking about the matter, that possible threat in the form of a friend was a turning point for him to make the decision to try to get your marriage back together. He opened the bedside drawer and pulled out the divorce papers that he hadn't signed yet, let alone sent to you, wondering why you never questioned him about it. He looked at the letters without reading them and tore up the paper when he saw his signature, they wouldn't need it anymore as they would soon be back.

*I don't know what he could try to do, but I think that could be left to someone with more ability to develop a story than me, hahaha. Sorry, I got a little carried away explaining the plot and ended up almost writing a one shot. Thank you if you read this far and sorry for any mistakes, I'm writing sleepily*

[cieloclercs]

what would you say (if i told you i love you)? — charles leclerc

PART: 3? (read part 2 here)

summary. in which childhood best friends blur the lines between what they’ve always known, and something more

warnings. swearing, online hate, we’re getting to the angst now 🫣 arguments, charles is an idiot, arthur and joris being sick of his shit (but what else is new)

pairings. charles leclerc x arsty!reader

face claim. tara michelle

author’s note. again, i have no idea how much modern art sells for at auctions so don’t come at me if this seems unrealistic 🙏☹️ i also feel the need to clarify that y/n has 2 instagram accounts, one personal and one for art stuff ☺️

liked by joris_trouche and 51,196 others

y/nsart auction update! 🎨

tide - sold for €12,460 erode - sold for €9,500 wave - sold for €20,890 glint - sold for €6,300

this is nothing short of a dream come true for me. the support i’ve seen both on social media and at the auction (once again, thank you to everyone who stopped by!) has been beyond anything i ever could have hoped for 🩵

if you’d told me when i was a little girl that one day people would pay for art i’ve created, i wouldn’t have believed you. i’m so so grateful to have been given this opportunity to do something that i love and to share it with the world 💗 i can’t wait to see what the future holds!

view all comments…

username congratulations y/n! ���💕

*y/nsart liked this comment

leclerc_pascale C'est tout à fait mérité. N'arrêtez jamais de peindre, ma fille, vous avez un don! / completely deserved. never stop painting, my girl, you have a gift!

y/nsart merci beaucoup 🥹 je promets de ne pas le faire x / i promise i won’t

arthur_leclerc congratulations petite sœur! / little sister

y/nsart merci arth ☺️

y/nsart also, ‘petite’? i’m literally older than you?

arthur_leclerc but you’re smaller 🙃

charles_leclerc toujours fière de toi, ma chérie ❤️ / forever proud of you, sweetheart

y/nsart 😐

charles_leclerc you’re still mad at me? ☹️

y/nsart if you wanted one of my paintings you could have just asked rather than wasting over €20,000. i would have let you have it for free

charles_leclerc i didn’t waste anything, y/n

username uh oh mom and dad are fighting 😳

username ironic how her highest selling painting was literally bought by her best friend 😭

username i guarantee you it would NOT have sold for that much if charles hadn’t been bidding

username i don’t want to be the one to say it but lately it kind of feels like y/n’s been using her friendship with charles as a way to promote her art…

username as much as i love y/n icl i think you might be right 🥲

username 🤢🤢🤢

username stop using charles’ fame to try and make yourself relevant! you’ll never be good enough for him babes 🥰

username the switch up on these comments from ‘fans’ is actually so embarrassing

username i know! it’s like as soon as y/n starts becoming successful everyone suddenly decides it’s not because of her own hard work but because of charles 🙄

username lmao how has she managed to make tens of thousands for that shit she calls art? i’m sensing a clout chaser 😂

username this REEKS of jealousy

username these comments make me sick. y/n has proved time and time again how talented and hard working she is. just because charles doesn’t know you exist doesn’t mean you get to hate on another girl who he ACTUALLY cares about. grow up.

*charles_leclerc and y/nsart liked this comment

username i feel so bad for y/n. no offence to charles but if he’d let the auction play out normally without bidding (although he does have a right to do so if he wants!) then she wouldn’t be getting all this hate right now 😔

comments on this post have been limited.

liked by pierregasly and 1,567,836 others

charles_leclerc back to work 🇳🇱

view all comments…

username no y/n like? ☹️

username is y/n with you?

username guys check kym illman’s instagram! he said charles turned up to the paddock alone…

username i mean, y/n could be arriving later right?

username if y/n isn’t there it’ll be the first race she’s missed since singapore last year 😳

username y/n has a life besides charles! just because she’s not at one race doesn’t mean they’ve fallen out or anything ☺️

username but think about it…neither charles nor y/n have posted anything to do with each other since the auction a week ago normally they can barely go a day without posting each other 🥴

username can everyone just stop talking about y/n 🙄 all she ever did was distract him anyway

username forza charles! ❤️

username he’s not even smiling :((

username because he knows ferrari are shit, it’s probably nothing to do with y/n

username i didn’t even mention her? 😭

joris_trouche i think you’re missing someone mate

username JORIS??

username HE KNOWS SOMETHING!!

username JORIS PLEASE TELL US WHAT YOU KNOW

username i hate to be the bearer of bad news but y/n just posted. she’s not at the grand prix 🥲

yourusername

viewed by charles_leclerc and 9,637 others

replies:

arthur_leclerc oh shit arthur_leclerc what did he do joris_trouche just say the word and i’ll smack him for you 😁 ↳ yourusername please don’t do that 😭 yourfriend you don’t need him, mon amour ❤️ ↳ yourusername ☺️

you:

did i do something wrong?

we haven’t spoken in a week

charlie 🤍:

no, y/n

you:

you won’t answer my calls

charlie 🤍:

i’ve been thinking about what you said

i don’t want you to have to deal with hate because of me

you:

so you think ignoring me is the answer?

charlie 🤍:

i’m not ignoring you, y/n, i’m trying to protect you

you:

what the fuck?

charles, i don’t care what people say about you

charlie 🤍:

but i do

isn’t it for the best? if we aren’t seen together for a while, you won’t get any of the hate

you:

you really don’t get it do you

if you think i want you to cut me off to ‘protect me’ then maybe you don’t know me as well as i thought you did

charlie 🤍:

don’t say that

i just want everyone to see you the way i do

you:

and i already told you, i don’t care what they think of me

i only care what you think

charlie 🤍:

why?

you:

i’m surprised you haven’t figured it out yet

charlie 🤍:

figured what out? [ seen at 4:11PM ]

y/n?

you:

i think it’s best if we don’t see each other for a while

bye charles

charlie 🤍:

what?! [ seen at 4:13PM ]

y/n come back [ delivered at 4:14PM ]

just tell me what you mean [ delivered at 4:20PM ]

please y/n [ delivered at 4:47PM ]

liked by yourfriend and 1,637,937 others

scuderiaferrari A DNF in Zandvoort for Charles. Now time to refocus ready for Monza 🔜

view all comments…

username what the actual fuck was going on with him today?

username i don’t know. i’ve never seen him so distracted 😕

username honestly a rookie mistake. if he’s going to be pulling shit like this then he doesn’t deserve his seat 🤷

username it’s just one mistake?? calm down 😭

username why do i feel like this has something to do with y/n…

username oh my god will you all shut up about y/n 🙄 they’re not even dating !!

username and? they’ve been best friends since they were 5 years old. if my childhood friendship broke down i’d be pretty fucking upset about it too

username we don’t actually know that they’ve fallen out tho…neither of them have said anything

username but isn’t it obvious? y/n not at the race, charles being distracted and sulky around the paddock? they’ve definitely argued about something

username charles i can’t keep defending you when you do this 💔💔💔

username how this guy has managed to keep his seat with all these mistakes i have no idea 😒

username hopefully y/n will be in monza to bring him some good luck🤞

➜ part 4

[annabelle--cane]

it's fascinating to me the way that different social media platforms result in different types of fandom behavior. while s5 of tma was airing, I spent a good amount of time on tma tiktok (I log back in about once every two months now, going back to in-person school after a year a half of lockdown seem to re-blanace my brain and made me once again not really enjoy the format) while still using tumblr as my main socmed, and while there was a lot of overlap in the fan culture, some things were notably different.

tumblr tma fans had near-encyclopedic knowledge of the source material, but it was kind of an ongoing joke for tiktok tma fans that everyone binged the whole show in a week-long fugue state and lost memory of about 35% of it. tumblr has virtually no character limit and allows posts to be passed around by users indefinitely, which lends itself to fairly in-depth meta analysis being made and shared until most any fan could say "the time and space discrepancies at hill top road? psh yeah, I know all about them, I've read seven scrupulously cited posts that lay out all the details." for the entire time that s5 was airing, tiktok videos could still only be a minute long, and I know from a lot of personal effort that there's only so much you can fit into a one minute script that you also have to memorize and record (and cc manually with tiktok text stickers, as they didn't add the caption feature until april 2021) if you want the process to take less than four hours of your one mortal human life. and then you only see the video if your following or fyp algorithm shows it to you. there were a few tma meta-ish videos that got popular because other people would make their own videos referencing them and tag the account so their followers could see what they were talking about, but it's much harder to circulate content you like there. several times I saw people post videos saying "I got into cosplay to film some [agnes or annabelle or gerry or another secondary character] and I just realized I have no idea what their deal actually is 💀".

a thing that tiktok tma fandom was definitely better at than tumblr tma fandom was accurately remembering certain pieces of characterization and the flow of certain scenes. I've seen a bunch of posts on here where someone is trying to argue a point with excerpts from the text ("x character is nicer than you all give them credit for" "x character is so mean to y character in this scene" "z theory can't be true because y character said a line that disproves it") where the argument only holds up because the poster has gotten these excerpts from a transcript dive and hasn't listened to the episodes they're from recently, because while the text alone can be construed to mean one thing, the way it's delivered on-podcast clearly intends another. tiktok, being an audio and video based medium, allows audio clips to be shared around a lot, and cosplayers would often all make videos acting along to the same show clips of juicy interpersonal drama, and so tiktok fans, though they may have had less overall memory of what characters said, always had a better grasp on how they said it. an average tiktok tma fan might not have remembered melanie's subplot about war ghosts, but they would know the nuances of how the way she talks to jon changes between mag 28 and mag 155.

[wosoluver]

The diner

laura freigang x reader

Billie Eilish x woso prompt list

-> this is based on some of the lyrics and not the actual song (since the song is basically about a stalker).

Laura Freigang Masterlist

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

'Don't be afraid of me

I'm what you need'

You had arrived to Frankfurt over a season ago. A new transfer from Wolfsburg.

You weren't german and over your time in the country you had collected about two pages worth of words and frases you actually understood.

But that wasn't what made it hard for you to connect with others or make lasting friendships.

Laura picked an interest at you even before you had arrived. You had played against each other quite a bit and had a few friends in common.

Like her, besides being an athlete you had a creative vein.

Yeah, you had friends. Lena, Jule and Sveindís. But they didn't share many interests of yours.

You two had hit it off immediately. You were shy but Laura didn't measure efforts to interact with you.

She was quite good at that. Making people feel seen, and wanted.

Since moving to Frankfurt, since meeting Laura, you had found your people. She introduced you to a group of friends, and it was heaven. Finally having that again, since moving abroad.

You became inseparable. Trained together, grabbed lunch and coffee together, even went to little trips together, when you got a day or two off.

Moving into a more romantic thing, came naturally. Although you were kinda stuck in a weird place right now.

You liked her, a lot. But you were scared, of things not working out.

Of putting something you hadn't had in a while, in jeopardy.

'I saw you on the screens

I know we're meant to be

You're starring in my dreams

In magazines, you're looking right at me'

Laura had lost count of how many times she would open her instagram to check on your account.

She felt struck by you, from the first game you had played at, on your debut.

After figuring out you were new, she managed to find your account by a tagged picture, that had been recently posted by Wolfsburg.

She followed you instantly. Which you follow back, but thought nothing of it. It was normal for players to be mutuals on social media.

She loved your style, how cool and effortless your posts seemed.

When she found her team was to sign you over the summer, she swore somehow, she had silently manifested this.

'Bet I could change your life

You could be my wife

Could get into a fight

I'll say, "You're right"

And you'll kiss me goodnight'

Now the two of you sat face to face, in a booth at your favorite diner.

And of course she would bring this up. It was obvious this had to be sorted out, for the sake of her feelings and yours.

"Why not?" she threw that question out following it up with a gulp of her drink.

"It's not a good idea." you tilted your head, a bit to the left, avoiding her eyes.

"And staying in a situationship is?" she would question you until she got an honest answer.

"Lau, it's complicated."

"It's literally not." she said reaching to you from across the table. "you could move into my apartment."

"You said they don't allow cats there."

"We can find another apartment then. One with big windows for the sunlight to come through." There she got you. Knowing the love you had for sitting by a window and reading a good book.

"We can get married in Greece over summer. I'd be perfect, our friends and family will probably be on break, so they'll be able to make it!"

"I haven't even accepted being your girlfriend, slow down." your free hand brushing a lock of her hair, behind her ear lovingly.

"I promise to take you out for sushi at least once a week." she was using all her weapons now...

"I don't have space in my fridge for your films." you toyed with her.

"I'll start using a digital camera." she quickly witted at you.

"What about my stubbornness?" this time, seriously considering everything.

"If we ever get into an argument, I'll say you're right." she answered with a beaming smile.

"Were you even planing to take a no for an answer?" she had got what she wanted, you were done for and your small smile now matched hers.

"I knew you felt the same."

"I hate you." you played.

"You don't."

"I might love you a little." and she gasped faking offended.

"you mean, a little too much?"

she was right, you did.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

Idk if I love this but oh well... might have gotten some inspiration back?!?

Let the Billie x woso prompts posts begin!

Like, share and comment 🩷