#with some wild cards thrown in

[ajcrawly]

Listen here

A silly little playlist for an angel with a gramophone and a shaky grasp on anything newer than Chopin

Featuring:

Vera Lynn • Frank Sinatra • Johnny Mathis • Dinah Washington • Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons • Ella Fitzgerald • And many (or, you know, a handful) more…

Crowley playlist here

[mxstellatayte]

Thoughts on if the drivers would use toys ( and what kind) on themselves and their partners?

ok i could only come up with a mtl for this one so here we goooooooo!

nsfw under the cut <3 minors please do not interact!

🧡lando norris

oh my god this man is SUCH A WHOREEE. he's actually the first person to bring it up in your relationship, and he doesn't so much bring it up as it brings itself up. the two of you and some other drivers and their partners are out after monaco, and something seems off about him, but you don't realize exactly what it is until you're grinding your ass on him on the dance floor and he is very, very hard. when you ask what's going on, he can barely say it without moaning because every move of your hips against his, making his own move in turn, nudges the plug he'd put in before leaving just barely against his prostate. safe to say that later that night, lando was a whining mess, gripping the sheets and head thrown back while you fold him in half with the strap he'd bought a few weeks prior in hopes of this exact situation happening buried in his ass. (got a little carried away there OOPSIES)

🩶george russell

george is actually a bit of a wild card on this list. his preference for toys leans a bit more towards the pain and restraint side of them, but he doesn't mind the occasional plug or vibrator. his own kinks make their appearance when you run up to him after a good race, kiss him, and press your hands to his chest so he can set his hands on your hips the way he likes to. what you aren't expecting, though, is for the outside of your left hand to brush something hard and plastic and for george to *whimper* into the kiss. that slut had worn nipple clamps during the race. his personal favorite combination of toys is having his hands cuffed to the headboard, completely unable to fight you off as you have your merry way with him. (as long as he gets a pat on the head and a shoulder rub with his favorite body lotion and cuddles afterwards ofc <3)

🧡oscar piastri

oscar is the flip of a coin. he's more than happy to quickly tie your wrists together with his tie if you're being a brat at an event or take his time lacing together a beautiful, intricate shibari harness to keep you in place while he uses your mouth to get himself off. when he takes the time for shibari, he'll take a lot of photos of you, maybe even a few videos to use later when he's halfway across the globe. as for toys on himself, he mainly only goes for a simple fleshlight (or lando). surprisingly, one thing he enjoys is laying back blindfolded and letting you have your way with him, as long as you aren't too mean.

🩶lewis hamilton

lewis has a very "if you're down, i'm down" attitude about most things when it comes to sex. as long as the two of you are comfortable and enjoying it, he's game on for a lot of stuff! his hard nos when it comes to toys on himself and his partner are anything that could potentially put one of you in danger or anything even vaguely involving animals. the first time you two really start exploring the world of sex toys of all sorts, he's constantly checking in with you, making sure you're feeling good, and if you tap out at any point, the aftercare is amazing bc he feels bad </3

🩵logan sargeant

oh this man LOVES fucking and getting fucked, and if there's toys involved, he's even happier. i can imagine him sending you a new toy when a big event happens that he can't be there for, and, to make up for it, he buys it for you so that you can fuck over the phone that night. he absolutely loves watching you fuck yourself with anything- your fingers, a toy, even using him to get yourself off is hot as hell to him. i also can't get the thought of him tied up in shibari with a ball gag in his mouth as you tease the fuck out of him, fucking his ass with a dildo that might be bordering on too big and jerking him off slowly at the same time (bonus points if it's in front of a mirror so he can see what a mess of himself he's making 🫣)

💙daniel ricciardo

the first time you bring up the idea of toys with danny, youre both high on the beach outside cancun over winter break, talking about all the random things two high adults talk about, and the topic of him eating you out feels. you passingly mention how much you love it when he moans while he's attached to your clit, and the idea of getting you a vibrator sparks in his mind. when you're in bed that night, the high long gone, he asks you just that, and you're so close to sleep that, when you wake up the next morning, you aren't sure if you remember what happened properly the previous night. you did, in fact, remember correctly, and when you get back to australia, there's a package laying on your bed. "happy late christmas baby xx -danny" inside is a baby pink suction vibrator that you cum with three times, saving a voice memo and texting it to him after you're done catching your breath.

💛charles leclerc

this goes without saying, but charles is more than happy to spend hours between your legs if he could. he's such a pleasure dom that sometimes you have to pull him away from your clit by his hair, and fuck if that sight alone doesn't prep you for another hour of his tongue ravishing you, you don't know what will. his cheeks, lips, chin, even the tip of his nose are shiny with a mix of your cum and his saliva, his pupils are wide and his mouth hangs open, breath heavy and fanning against you so perfectly. when you being up the idea of using toys, he's over the moon. when he finds out the toys you had in mind are ones you can wear to ferrari events under your dress, the remote hiding perfectly in the pocket of his pants? shit, he's on neptune.

🩵alex albon

what is it with the williams drivers being sub leaning? alex is similar to lewis in having the "if you're down, i'm down" attitude, and he's just as focused on his partner's pleasure as he is his own. he's the first to bring it up in the relationship, asking (very very shyly) if you'd maybe possibly under no pressure whatsoever be willing to try pegging him, and when his eyes light up when you agree, you have a feeling toys are going to start being a semi-regular addition to your sex life. on the occasion that neither of you have any (or you simply don't have the time or effort), alex is more than willing to have you ride him or fuck you himself, because i do think that, if teased enough, alex will top purely out of spite.

💙yuki tsunkda

yuki's idea of toys is much more unconventional. it could be your pillow when the two of you are fucking over the phone, the armrest of the couch in his driver's room, or your favorite dildo or vibrator. he's honestly kinda cool with most stuff, as long as it makes you feel good and is safe. as for himself, his favorite is a cock ring around him while you ride him, so that way you're both getting the best of it while he can still hold on to your tits :D he also tied your wrists together one time with a ribbon from the gift he got you for your two year anniversary and he still keeps the ribbon in his nightstand to remind him of you on nights when he's especially lonely.

❤️max verstappen

really, really prefers to fuck you himself in whatever way he can. whether he's fucking you into the mattress with his dick or sending you to heaven with his tongue and fingers or making you ride his thigh because you were being a little brat, he just loves the feeling of your skin on his. if you're being especially bratty, though, he will not hesitate to make you fuck yourself but of course you won't get to cum... why would he let you do that when you've been a brat? no, it's nearing overstimulation and tears running down your face begging for him to let you cum from the toy before he even considers giving you the release of fucking you himself.

🩷pierre gasly

pierre is a fluffy little fluff boy. just. the actual sweetest in bed. he prefers to be able to feel you himself rather than adding a toy to the mix, but if you're just really, really turned on while you're not around and feel like messing with him you'll send him a video of you fucking yourself with your favorite toy and it gets him so riled up he has to stop whatever he's doing and run to the motorhome so he can deal with his boner lol

💛carlos sainz

carlos is a very hands-on guy. he doesn't really go for dedicated toys per se, leaning more towards shoving your panties in your mouth or tying your wrists together with his tie. sometimes he doesn't even need that, though- sometimes his hand is more than enough to cover your mouth or hold your wrists together if there's no other option.

🤍nico hülkenberg

like carlos, he's very hands-on with you. the only real "toys" he uses with you are blindfolds and ribbons to hold your wrists in place. one time, he tried handcuffing you to the bed but seeing the marks on your wrists scared him so he threw them away after that :((

drivers i think just wouldn't be into toys very much, if at all:

valtteri bottas, fernando alonso, zhou guanyu

intentionally excluded: checo, lance, kmag, ocon

[boulevardk]

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy (preview)

Pairing: Gojo x reader (afab)

Genre: cowboy!gojo x bandit!reader + smut

Word count: uhh like 1.7k (haven't finished the full fic yet lmao we'll see what the wc gets to)

Summary: how does the strongest fare in the wild, wild West as the newest sheriff? we're about to find out!!

a/n: shout out to whoever made this fanart bc jesus fucking christ. i have more written for this fic so I'll post it in the next day or so I just wanted to give a preview lol this isn't proofread my apologies

xx Jay

---

You were fucked. And, fuck, did you know it. 

“You idiot!” you cursed, “Do you wanna die? How could you be so stupid?”

Your partner in crime (literally) turned to you with a crazed grin on his face, high on the rush. “What? Don’t tell me you’re scared of some little sheriff.”

The sheriff, in question, is none other than Gojo Satoru. Not only was he the youngest sheriff in the region, but he was an incredible shot and phenomenal horseback rider. The man was known all throughout the west for his strength, wit, and impeccable skill as a marksman. And he just so happened to be the man hunting you down as you speak.  

“Am I scared? Am I scared?” you yell in disbelief, “Hell fucking yeah I’m scared! You just had to rob that bank, didn’t you? Toji, this is insane. We’re going to die, and it’s all because you wanted a little extra cash to blow at some saloon since you’re shit at cards and are always too drunk to make a reasonable gamble!”

His eyes widened at your statement, “I’m just down on my luck that’s all!” 

You roll your eyes and continue pacing around the small room, almost internally counting down the minutes until you're inevitably caught and thrown in a cell to rot. Maybe Toji could tough it out in jail (assuming he wasn’t hanged for his crimes), but you knew you weren’t cut out for that kind of life. It’s not like you meant to get caught up in this life, after all. A few bad decisions led to this nightmare of a reality, and now you were about to ride this sinking ship with the buffoon in front of you who was pushing 40 and still thought it was a good idea to devote the little cash he had on reckless gambling instead of caring for the adorable, perpetually scowling son he left behind to pursue a life of crime. 

“Don’t give me that look, doll,” his tone is sickly sweet but showing no real affection or warmth. “Don’t forget that you’re an accomplice in this crime too. Who was in the carriage waiting for me when I ran out of the bank with the cash, huh? Oh, that’s right! It was you!”

Running your fingers through your hair, you sit down and rest your head in your hands. “Don’t remind me, asshole,” you spit out, tone equally as harsh. “You think I wanted this? I didn’t know you were gonna do that shit! I owed you a favor- one favor, Toji! What, you think because I owed you one, I wanted to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder for the most feared sheriff in the west? Believe it or not, but I don’t want to live this way!”

He huffs and sticks a cigar in his mouth, lighting it and letting out a puff of smoke before meeting your eyes again, “Well, tough shit, doll. This is the hand you were dealt, and now you’ve gotta decide whether or not you’re gonna fold.”

You roll your eyes, sensing a migraine coming on. “Shut the fuck up with your poker references, Toji. You’re not good enough at any card game to warrant that kind of talk.”

“Bitch,” he mutters under his breath.

You turn around and are about to rip into him when you hear the sound of incoming horses and a voice call out, “They’re just up ahead!”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Toji curses as he puts out his cigar and stands up hastily. He looks around the room frantically and meets your eyes before darting out of the shared space.

“Fuck! Toji, come back!” you shout as you rush after him. You’re not all that well-versed on running from the police given you’ve literally never had a reason to do so. To say you’re relying on Toji to get you two out of this predicament is an understatement. After all, that man has committed more crimes than interacted with his own son. 

Running out of the room and following his footsteps, you exit out the backdoor. Your jaw drops to the ground at the sight in front of you. Toji’s sat on top of your very own horse, grabbing her by the reins and turning to you with a devilish smirk on his face. “Sorry, doll, I gotta cut ties here. ‘Can’t afford to get caught, you know? I’m sure you understand. Let me borrow your horse, yeah? I owe ya one.” 

You can’t even fully process his words, you’re seeing red with the amount of rage consuming you. Frozen in place, you watch Toji ride away on your horse, effectively abandoning the house that was about to be raided by police. 

Toji gets a fair distance away from the house before you hear the same voice yell, “There he is! You lot track him down. I’ll stay back and search the rest of the house. He had an accomplice. I’m sure they’re hiding out here somewhere.”

As soon as the man is done speaking, you hear multiple horses run off in Toji’s direction. You’re scared shitless of what’s to come. You just know the man about to search the house is the famous sheriff you had just been professing your fear of to that backstabbing bum who stole your fucking horse. Even though you know you’re thoroughly, laughably, undeniably fucked, you can’t help but laugh internally at the thought of Toji being captured by the sheriff’s men. You hope they don’t hurt your horse, although you doubt she’ll be yours much longer since you’re about to be sent off to jail. 

Cutting your losses and acknowledging defeat, you walk back into the house, ready to face the renowned sheriff. Walking back into the kitchen, your footsteps alert the man of your location, and he makes his way into the room. 

If you weren’t scared out of your mind at what’s to come, you might have started drooling, honestly. If this man weren’t known for his near superhuman abilities, he would have been known for his looks alone. You had never seen or even heard about a man that looked like him. He had bright white hair that peaked out from his hat. His skin was so fair and beautiful you swore he was made of porcelain. His lips were a pretty pink that somehow had a glimmering shine to them. He wore black denim with a black button up, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing his large hands and delectable arm veins. For a reason unknown to you, he wore a blindfold over his eyes. You could only wonder what his eyes looked like, although you imagined they were as beautiful as the rest of him. 

He looked unreal. This whole situation felt unreal. You still hadn’t wrapped your head around the fact that you were about to be arrested let alone the fact that you were standing in a room with a man that looked like that.

“Well, well,” Gojo chuckles, “Here I was thinking Toji’s accomplice had to be some ugly brute with a tobacco addiction. But here you are instead.”

You rocked on the balls of your feet out of nerves, “I- I’m sorry to disappoint.”

He laughs fully this time. “And a sense of humor, too? What did Toji do to get you roped into this in the first place, huh?”

Your eyes widen slightly at this. It’s like he could see right through you. Was it that obvious that you didn’t live a life of crime? You suppose it’s times like this where your naturally expressive face and body language actually benefited you, as Gojo must have known about the true nature of your involvement just by the way you reacted to his presence. 

“I, um…” you tried to pick your words in a way that made you look the least guilty of committing a crime. “I only agreed to help him since I owed him a favor…”

This seemed to pique Gojo’s interest. “Oh? And what did the lying, deceitful, manipulative, gambling addict do to earn a favor from a pretty girl like you?”

Your face flushes when you process his words. Warranted and accurate insults about Toji aside, the human embodiment of perfection called you pretty. 

You must have been frozen in place for a second or two because when you blink again, Gojo is standing closer to you and leaning inward, “Are you with me, sweetheart?”

Eyes widening, you nod your head vigorously and elicit another chuckle from the man. 

“Well,” you sigh after being able to mentally calm yourself, “he helped my family in a tough situation. My mother was very sick, and Toji just so happened to have the proper remedies to heal her…”

Although you can’t see his eyes, you can tell that Gojo raises his eyebrows in curiosity, and his silence prompts you to continue.

“Believe me, I never wanted to help him out. Or, at least, when I agreed to help him, I had no idea he was gonna drag me into this mess. But I couldn’t just walk around my house and pass by my mother without thinking that, if it weren’t for that lunatic, she wouldn’t be with us anymore.”

Gojo hums and brings his hand to his chin as if in thought. “I bet your family would be pretty disappointed to see you now though, right? Doing all this for your mother is admirable, but you still committed a crime… What kind of sheriff would I be if I just let you off the hook because you told me some sob story and batted your eyelashes at me, hm?”

You didn’t know how to react to his words. Sure, he’s right, your family would be disappointed to see you in this position. You’d never gotten into any sort of trouble before- certainly never done anything illegal. 

“You thought you owed a simple favor, sure… But last time I checked, the pathway to heaven wasn’t paved with good intentions.” he tuts. “But jail time seems a little harsh, no? What do you think we can do to solve this little problem?”

Your heart is beating so hard that you wonder if Gojo could hear it from where he stood. “Please, I’ll do anything. I’ve never broken the law before, and I can’t afford to leave my family and go to jail.”

“Anything, huh?” Gojo smirked and pulled down his blindfold to reveal the most striking, beautiful eyes you have ever seen in all your life. “Well, how could I turn down an offer like that?”

---

i want him on me and in me I need him carnally I want him in my guts, so deep in me that I feel him in my throat okay bye I'll release the full fic soon lmao <3

[girlgenius1111]

one step forward and three steps back

warnings: blood, panic attack, self harm, relapse. seriously, if you are even slightly concerned that this could be triggering for you, don't read it.

Ingrid-fight.

The weeks following your breakdown were easier than you'd anticipated. You'd taken a couple weeks off, spending the time focusing on your mental health, at Alexia and Jona's insistence. The club told the media that you were taking time for your mental health, which mostly went over well. Some, however, thought the club was being too soft. They only saw you get a red card, and take weeks off from playing; it was a tantrum you were throwing, not taking time for yourself.

Your return game saw you in the starting lineup, along with Mapi and Alexia. Ingrid was still out, being careful with her leg. You were doing better, able to focus more on playing, as well as being significantly less reckless on the pitch. Your hand had healed, and it really should have been your game.

Unfortunately for you, though, was that the other team was desperate to win. Not that every team wasn't, but the dirty tackles coming in every other minute made it clear that they were on a mission. Still, you'd managed to stay out of trouble until it was almost the end of the game.

You were trying to beat a defender, one of the players that had been playing particularly roughly. Normally, you didn't mind this, never not up for a physical challenge. What you didn't appreciate, however, was the elbow thrown into your face, connecting directly with first your nose, and then your eye.

"Fucking hell," You cried out, hands flying to your face as the other girl took the ball. The whistle blew almost instantly, and she groaned. You were pissed. "What, did you think they added throwing elbows when you can't do your job into the rulebook?" You asked her, feeling blood beginning to stream steadily out of your nose.

Your teammates and the ref were still making their way over to you, and only some of them caught the girls response.

"Gonna need to take another few weeks off? Your nose probably needs a mental health break, huh?" She said condescendingly. Alexia and Mapi sped up at this, breaking into runs to get to you. Sure enough, no sooner had the words left her mouth, and you were taking your hands away from your nose, and giving her a harsh shove. She shoved back, and both of you had fists raised by the time you were separated.

Mapi wrapped an arm around your waist, dragging you back. "Easy there, the ref will take care of it," she told you, as you fought against her grasp. You were annoyed, Mapi was normally down for a fight. Instead, she was speaking in soothing tones, her calm eyes meeting your wild ones.

"She said-"

"I know what she said, but your face is bleeding, so sit down and let the physios check you, bueno?" Mapi was pissed, but she could hear Alexia talking to the ref behind her, and felt that as much as she wanted to slap that stupid girl across the face, she was more helpful here, making you take a seat as the physios arrived.

With a huff, you relented, sitting down. The pain in your face was becoming harder to ignore, and you didn't know if you believed the guy when he told you your nose wasn't broken, only badly bruised.

"Feels fucking broken," you said, attempting to add some bite to your words. Instead, they came out all choked, and you realized you were about to cry.

Mapi put a hand on your shoulder, not used to this response. You normally didn't cry when you got hurt, and she realized the comment from the other girl had affected you more than you'd probably admit. Mapi made eye contact with the physio and shook her head slightly, He signaled to the bench for a sub.

"You said it wasn't broken!" you protested.

"No, but you should ice it. No reason to take any unnecessary risks." He told you, and you knew that he and Mapi were just aware that you were upset, not thinking that you really needed to go off. You were going to argue, when Alexia stepped up, fixing you with her general look of "do what they say or I'll yell." You weren't in the mood for any yelling, so you relented, stomping off to the sidelines, without another word to your teammates. You noticed with some satisfaction that the other girl had gotten a red.

You stalked off the pitch, heading for the locker room, and Ingrid fell into step beside you.

"Leave me alone." You told her, wanting to cry in peace. You weren't sure why you were so upset with that girl's comment, but you were.

"No," she responded, meeting your glare with a smile. "Not letting you break another hand." She joked, and you mumbled an insult under your breath. She ignored it, following you into the locker room and watching as you threw yourself down in front of your locker.

Ingrid brought over a towel and some ice, insistently holding them out to you. After you took them, wiping the blood off your face, and pressing the ice to your nose, she sat next to you.

"You looked upset out there." She remarked.

"Yeah well. Elbow to the face." You responded.

"It looked like she said something to you," Ingrid pressed. You paused, before deciding to tell Ingrid what she said. her response would tell you whether you were being dramatic or not. After you'd spoken, Ingrid's eyes narrowed.

"What a little bitch," she seethed, and you huffed out a laugh, that quickly turned into a sob. Ingrid looked at you, startled, before wrapping an arm around your shoulders, rubbing her hand up and down your arm.

"I don't know why I'm crying, it wasn't that bad. It was just mean and my nose hurts and I hate that stupid girl," you blubbered, and Ingrid held back a laugh.

"It's alright, y/n, you're allowed to be upset. It was mean. And it was about something that's sensitive to you, it makes sense why you're upset." She told you rationally. Ingrid had a way of speaking that made whatever she said make sense, instantly believable. You wiped the remaining tears off your face, before quietly thanking her. She squeezed your shoulders, and you both lapsed into silence.

You were impressed with Ingrid, for being able to make you feel better so fast. Ingrid was impressed with you, for expressing your feelings without her having to drag them out of you. It was clear that you were improving, and it filled her with relief. But for every step forward, there's always a step back. Or two.

-----

Mapi- panic.

You weren't really sure what had happened. One second, you were out with the team, celebrating a win in a club. It was a rare occasion for your captains [mostly Alexia], to agree to a night out in the middle of the season, so everyone had taken full advantage. You were dancing with Pina and Patri, surrounded by other people, when you felt it; the beginnings of panic starting to rise within you.

Maybe it was the crowded room, the lack of oxygen, the alcohol, or just a random fit of anxiety. Regardless of the reason, you were quickly growing more panicked. Without a word to either girl you were with, you had spun around and were pushing your way out of the crowd, off the dance floor. You broke free of the crowd, not processing anything happening around you. You still felt like the room was out of air though, so you headed for the door, stumbling slightly as you pushed your way out.

You leaned against the wall, gasping for breath. The air outside was cooler, more plentiful, yet you still couldn't seem to get enough into your body. You slid to the ground, pressing your hands to your face as you tried desperately to regain control. You couldn't hear much except for a faint ringing sound, and you felt completely untethered from the world.

Until you felt a hand on your shoulder. You jerked your head up to find Mapi's concerned face looking down at you. You relaxed slightly, knowing it wasn't a random stranger, putting your head back in your hands.

You felt Mapi take a seat next to you, her hand moving slowly up and down your back. She took one of your hands away from your face, and pressed it to her chest. You felt the steady rise and fall of her breaths, and forced yourself to match them. Your breaths were still stuttering, but they began to slow. You weren't sucking in air as desperately anymore, and the ringing in your ears was giving way to Mapi's gravelly voice.

"In and out, just like that," she said as you began to process her words. "Good, just take it slow. You're safe, I've got you," she told you, her voice and touch working well to calm you.

"Sorry," you gasped out, although you weren't really sure why you were apologizing.

"That's alright, pequeña, you can't help it." She replied. Once you were almost completely calm, she wrapped her arm around your shoulders, pulling you into her. "What happened?" she asked, and you could hear the note of protection in her voice.

"Don't know. Too many people I think," you told her, resting your head against the wall behind you as you breathed in and out. "I'll be okay in a minute," you said.

"Take your time, I've got no where else to be," she said, resting her chin on your head.

It still struck you how much your friends cared for you. Even when you felt like they shouldn't, even when you knew it would be easier for them to give up on you, or let you handle it alone, they never did. And they never would, no matter what.

-----

Alexia - relapse.

You hadn't meant for it to happen- really. You'd been doing better. You were working with a therapist, and you'd started medication. It was clear that you desperately needed both of these things, and they were helping. You were naive to think that it would be only up from there though. Looking back, you'd realize the increase in dosage in your medication had just gone horribly wrong, the way that it could in rare cases. Having a clear reason didn't make what happened disappear though.

It had been a bad day. You'd woken up in an inexplicably bad mood. It had been a while since the familiar heavy cloud of gloom had settled over you, but as you headed to training, you felt it once again. The weight pushed down on you insistently, and as a result, you practiced worse. Your passes weren't connecting, shots weren't going in, and you kept tripping over your own feet.

This only made your mood worse, and by the time practice ended, you were incredibly frustrated with yourself. You avoided conversation, everyone discussing exciting plans for the night since you all had the day off tomorrow. You left the locker room quickly, missing the glances exchanged as you opened the door harder than necessary. You really should have expected to be stopped by your friends, but you were so in your head, you didn't hear them approaching. You jumped when Mapi placed a tattooed hand on your shoulder, halting you in your tracks.

When you turned to look at her, her face was pinched with concern, and you felt yourself grow more frustrated; you weren't supposed to be worrying your friends anymore, you were fine. Alexia stood behind her, watching you carefully. They both had yet to shower, still in their training kits, and you wondered if they were waiting so they could check on you.

"You alright pequeña?" Mapi asked. You nodded, sighing as both girls continued to look at you, clearly not believing you.

"Just a rough day." You told them.

"Do you want one of us to come home with you?" Alexia asked, keeping her voice low and soothing, expecting you to reject the idea. It was something they'd made you promise after that night. If you weren't feeling okay, you were supposed to tell them. You had yet to do this, with things improving, and you didn't want to start now. Admitting that you were having a bad day was one thing, but admitting that your thoughts were going dark was another. You were better, you were supposed to be better.

So, you convinced yourself that you'd be fine on your own, and you told Alexia as much. "No, I'm fine, I promise. I'm just gonna go home and relax." Your plans for the rest of the day consisted of laying in bed until you felt less like your every move was heavy.

The older girls gave you searching looks, but relented, reminding you that they were just a phone call away. They'd slowly begun to trust you again, since that night, trust you'd earned. They'd been able to see your improvements, and as a result, assumed that if you needed them, you'd tell them.

They were wrong.

------

In hindsight, maybe going home by yourself while in the midst of a depressive episode might not have been the best idea. Arriving home, you had tried to distract yourself, which was hard when you barely had the energy to sit upright. You settled yourself on your couch, not bothering to try to eat. You pulled your favorite blanket around your shoulders, settling in against the cushions, putting a random show on. You fell asleep watching TV, with the hopes that when you woke up, you'd feel better.

Instead, you woke up after the sun had set, feeling much worse. Your apartment was completely dark, although the curtains were wide open. You didn't bother with turning the lights on, staying in the same position on the couch as you began to spiral.

The deep sadness that had nestled it's way into the very core of your being this morning had given way some, to numbness. The numbness was normally where things went south. A combination of despair, but the inability to access those emotions choked you. You felt, so deeply, but you couldn't bring it to the surface. Instead, the shadows of these emotions danced just outside your grasp, leaving you desperate for something, anything, other than blank paralysis.

This was normally the point you turned to unhealthy coping mechanisms. Not often, and not for a while, but still, the once the thought popped into your head, you couldn't get rid of it. You knew it was the only thing that could bring you back into yourself, melt the freeze in your brain. The pain never failed at this; you knew it was bad, knew you shouldn't need to resort to this, but sitting there on your couch, you couldn't really think of any other option.

Robotically, you stood up from the couch, pausing as your phone fell to the ground off your lap. There were a few notifications you'd missed, and you stopped, opening them. All were from various teammates group chats. You ignored most of them, opening up the thread with Alexia, Mapi, and Ingrid. Your mind was clouded, focused on the task you had set your mind to, but still, a small part of it reminded you that you didn't have to do this. You had people that could help, would help, wanted to help.

You remembered, though, that they were out tonight. It was Ingrid and Mapi's anniversary, and the spaniard was taking Ingrid somewhere ridiculous and fancy. Alexia had some Barcelona related benefit. Realistically, you knew they'd all drop everything to come to you if you told them you needed them, but you couldn't bring yourself to do it. One time wouldn't hurt. You could do it again, just this once. They'd never have to know.

-----

Pulling the blade away from your skin, you watched as blood trailed down your thigh. You didn't feel better, not like you normally did. The feelings had come rushing back to you after the first cut, but they didn't relinquish their grip on you as you continued. You felt desperate, filled with anguish, with no clear way to get rid of it.

Well, there was one way. As soon as you had that thought, you began to panic. You hadn't thought like this in a really long time, and it scared the hell out of you. It was like you were fighting between two parts of yourself, one that wanted you to be okay, and one that didn't care if you were okay, as long as you didn't feel like this anymore. The latter had won out, earlier. You were terrified that if you didn't do something, it would win again.

You forced yourself to breath, to think logically. You grabbed a towel from the shelf next to you. You leaned back against the wall, pressing it tightly against your leg. You just needed to do one thing at a time and everything would be okay. Reaching up to the bathroom counter, you grabbed your phone.

This was the hardest part. Harder than dragging the blade across your skin, harder than hiding your scars. Scars you'd reopened now. Your hand shook as you considered your options. Your mind had cleared slightly, self preservation instincts kicking in.

Ingrid and Mapi deserved a nice anniversary. Alexia hated social events. She'd probably tell you that you were doing her a favor if you called. Probably not when she heard why you called, but regardless.

Taking another breath, you clicked her contact, anxiety finding it's way into your gut.

"Hola, y/n." Alexia answered rather quickly, and you knew then that she hadn't really believed you earlier.

"Ale." You choked the word out, eyes suddenly full of tears. You didn't sound like yourself. Now that she was on the phone with you, the weight of what you'd done, and what you'd considered, was hitting you full force.

"Que paso?" Alexia asked, voice switching from casual to worried instantly. You could picture her expression, the one she got when she was giving someone instructions, or arguing with a ref, an intensity that made her the player that she was. It also made her the friend that she was. You tried to reply, but the words wouldn't come out of your mouth.

"Y/n, I need you to tell me what's happening, now" Alexia said almost frantically. The background of people talking had disappeared and you knew she was leaving, moving fast to get to you.

"I-... I need you," you responded finally, barely getting the words out. You were sucking in air faster now, tears falling freely.

"Okay, I'm coming to you now, nena. I'll be there in 10 minutes," Alexia told you. Her soft tone was one reserved for very few people; at that moment, you counted yourself very lucky that you were one of them. "Are you safe?" She asked, feeling like she already knew the answer.

You weren't really sure how to respond to that. The bleeding had stopped, so you weren't medically in danger. The blade was across the bathroom from you, and Alexia was on her way, so you doubted you'd be able to do any more damage. Your thoughts were still rather dire, but you were focusing on Alexia, on her voice, and the sound of her getting in her car and starting the engine.

"I'm not really sure," you settled on. The Catalan wasn't sure what to make of that response.

"Are you at home?"

"Si"

"Are you hurt?"

You paused, and she knew the answer. You heard the engine increasing in volume as she accelerated. "Pequeña, do you need an ambulance?" Alexia asked. The question made her nauseous but she forced herself to remain focused, to not get caught up in her feelings.

"No. Stopped bleeding." You replied, shutting your eyes tightly as she inhaled a sharp breath. You hated this, hated it so much.

"Okay, that's good, nena. Can you take a breath for me?" You did as she asked, realizing that you'd been holding in air. "Bien, muy bien. I'm almost there, okay? Stay on the phone with me."

"Okay," came your response, voice quiet. Neither of you spoke much after that, Alexia aware that you were struggling to reply, and relying on the sound of your breaths to assure her that you were alright.

She told you when she arrived, though, parking the car and jumping in the elevator. The call cut out while she was in there, which you'd been expecting. As you waited for her to enter the apartment, trusting that she'd use her spare key, you took in the sight in front of you. You didn't pull the towel away from your thigh, but you looked at the red staining the bath mat, the blade discarded where you'd thrown it. Pulling your attention from it, you focused on the door, hearing Alexia move hastily through your apartment.

She opened the door, and had to stifle a gasp. She'd tried to prepare herself, but nothing she could picture in her mind was like seeing it in person. You were sat against the wall, white blood stained towel pressed to your leg. You shorts were pulled up, revealing the scars on your other leg. You were wearing an old training shirt, and there was blood on that too. You were shaking slightly, eyes big and cheeks tearstained. What struck her most was how scared you looked.

"Oh, pequeña," she said, voice breaking. You dropped your gaze at her words, biting your lip to stop yourself from crying. She crouched down next to you, placing a hand on your cheek. She pressed her lips to your forehead, desperate to give you any comfort she could. "I'm here, I've got you. We'll take care of it, alright?" She said, words thick with emotion. You nodded shakily, and she stood back up, pulling the first aid kit out from under your sink. She took a seat back next to you, pausing.

"Can you take the towel off, nena?" Alexia asked. She didn't want to push you too hard, not sure how you'd respond. Wordlessly, you pulled it off your leg, wincing where it stuck to the skin. Alexia swallowed hard, the sight worse than she anticipated.

"Okay. I'm going to disinfect, and then I'm going to cover them." You nodded, still not having spoken. She pulled out a couple of alcohol wipes, opening 3 all at once. "This is gonna sting, tell me if you need a break, okay?" Again, you only nodded. Alexia worked fast, cleaning the wounds. You didn't ask for a break, but she noticed you flinch every so often, let out sharper exhales. She put anti-infection cream on before deciding against bandaids. Instead, she placed a piece of gauze on, wrapping it with medical adhesive tape.

You looked down, taking in the neatly wrapped area. It looked much better like this, much more manageable. Alexia stood to wash her hands. She dried them off, before turning back to you. You were staring at your red stained hands. She reached down, guiding you to stand, before pulling you to the sink, and helping you wash the blood off of them. You were docile under her grasp, blankly following her instructions. She led you out of the bathroom, quickly helping you change out of your blood stained clothes, and into clean ones. She pulled clothes out of your closet for herself, too, changing out of the suit she'd worn the the benefit. She wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, and she'd rather be comfortable.

You found yourself sitting on the couch, like you had been before. This time though, the lights were on, and the room felt warm, inviting, as opposed to cold and lonely. Alexia moved around, keeping an eye on you as she made you a mug of tea. She sat down next to you, typing quickly on her phone before turning to you.

You felt better. Not great, not really even good, but better. You got a better grasp on your emotions, and began to connect the dots in your head. This had been so out of the blue. Normally, you only reached this point after weeks of being down. It was clear to you, now, that increasing your dosage of your meds had been a mistake. You'd always heard warnings, about how in rare cases an antidepressant could increase depression, thoughts of... the things you'd done. And the things you'd thought about doing. The explanation made you feel a little calmer.

Alexia, on the other hand, did not know what had happened. She was trying to give you some time to process, but she was going crazy. You hadn't spoken to her since she'd arrived, and you were sitting next to her, clearly deep in thought.

"Y/n, can you please tell me what you're thinking?" She finally asked. You startled slightly, before nodding your head. You explained your theory, of why what had happened happened.

"I just need to go back down on my meds. Or try a different one." Alexia felt relieved, but not completely. She could see you trying to convince yourself that, because there was a clear explanation, it was fine. You were fine. That this wasn't a big deal. She also could tell that you were trying not to let yourself get upset about it.

"I'm glad you understand why this happened, we can go see the psychiatrist tomorrow," she said, carefully contemplating her next words. "That was still really scary, nena."

"I'm so sorry, Ale. I'm so sorry you had to see that, that I called, that I messed up again and scared you," you rambled, clearly thinking she was talking about being scared herself. She had been terrified, but that's not what she meant.

"No, I meant for you. Having those thoughts must have been really frightening, especially out of the blue like that." Alexia replied, and you looked away. "Please, please, do not ever apologize for this. For any of it. I don't care that you scared me, I'm just glad you called. So glad, and so so proud of you, pequeña." She implored, watching carefully as you shook your head unconsciously.

"I messed up, you shouldn't be proud of me," was all you said. You looked like you were about to cry again, and Alexia couldn't resist pulling you into her arms. You let her, resting your head on her chest, blinking rapidly to try to stave off the tears.

"Well, I am proud of you. You called me. You wouldn't have done that a few months ago." She paused, thoughtful. She was trying to think of something that would relieve your guilt, your disappointment in yourself. "Relapses are part of recovery, y/n. It sucks, but they are. Relapsing doesn't make you weak, or a bad person. I know you feel like you should be better, but it's okay if you're not. Because of your medicine, or because of anything else. There's no timeline here, no requirements of being okay that you have to meet. All you need to do is try your best. And you are, I can tell. You asked for help when you needed it, and that is something to celebrate."

You looked up at her, the hopeful expression on your face making her heart clench. "I haven't let you down?" You asked quietly.

"No, nena. You haven't let anyone down. I was scared, yes, but all I feel right now is love for you, and pride for you." She said, determined for you to believe her. You were starting to. Her tone, her face, were so full of conviction, it was hard to do anything but listen.

"Thank you for coming so fast."

"I'll always come when you need me, as fast as I can." Her reply was almost instant. Alexia watched as you smiled weakly at her, before it dropped from your face, and tears welled in your eyes yet again. "What is it, pequeña," she wondered, rubbing a hand up and down your back. You leaned your head back against her, speaking into the fabric of her sweatshirt.

"I have to start all over again," you choked out.

Alexia sighed. "I know, I'm sorry. But we're all gonna be here again, okay? All of us, for every second."

They'd proven they'd be there for you, time and time again. Their commitment to being good friends, to taking care of you, was what made you believe that you were worth it. They were some of the best people you knew, and if they were going to be there every step of the way, the journey must be worth it.

-----

I hope you guys enjoyed :). Obviously a super heavy part. I'm not really sure what else to say, other than I hope that if you read this, it can bring you comfort in some way. Asking for help is terrifying, but it's so worth it, I promise. You deserve to feel good, and be happy.

[silkscream]

CHAPTER 5: NOT THAT I'M ANYWHERE

ੈ✩ gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru x reader

In your prelude to adulthood, he’d driven himself wild about the physicality of you next to him. Smothered by him since the summertime. He liked that the two of you spoke in tongues, kiss-shaped secrets.

ੈ✩ chapter cw/tags: explicit content (18+ mdni) , oral sex (f receiving), nonconsensual voyeurism, alcohol usage, angst

ੈ✩ wc: 6.1k

ੈ✩ a/n: more satoru antics... featuring a curveball thrown by suguru. surprise

playlist ✸ read on ao3 ✸ series masterlist

December, 2008

You arrive a bit late, not that Satoru minds. For some reason, he had this nagging thought in his mind that you wouldn’t come at all, and he was trying to make peace with it all day. Luckily, you show up, a roseate blush adorning your cheeks that matches your lipstick. He wants to kiss it off of you. Tear off your sweater and the black tights stuck to your legs.

You situate yourself in between Shoko and Utahime, who are both engaging in the stash of alcohol in front of them that you knew belonged in a glass cabinet in the dining room, pristine and locked up. 

You hug your knees, watching Shoko and Satoru bicker about the rules of whatever game they’re attempting to force everyone to play. You accidentally make eye contact with Utahime, who smiles at you graciously as she fixes one of her pigtails. Every one of Satoru’s friends was beautiful, which suited him. You didn’t feel like you could be part of them.

She offers you a beer and you take it even though it isn’t your favorite. When you try to swallow it down, you catch Suguru’s eye. He gives you a teasing smile.

“Shoko, you always want to play strip poker. If you wanted to see Hime’s tits, I’m sure you can just ask—”

The brunette pushes Satoru roughly on the shoulder, an irritated noise groaning in her throat. 

“No, you just don’t know any other fucking card games. Don’t act like you don’t always want to get everyone naked, too,” Shoko protests.

“I will not accept such slander on my birthday—”

“It’s not even midnight, yet, idiot!” Utahime interrupts.

You and Suguru share a look, which makes you look away quickly as you snort. You feel Satoru watching, but you don’t indulge in his gaze. You used to imagine a red string between the two of you when you were in school. You would stalk the halls alone, walking past him and make enough brief eye contact with him that you would assume his eyes were on you, always. You’d exist in the world just for him to watch. You’d feel his gaze on your body even when both of you were barely teenagers.

A bottle of wine makes its way into your hands, passed around from Utahime on your right. You chug the way she does, needing the release of inhibitions. When you look up to see Satoru looking at you, he nearly gives you whiplash from the way he stumbles over to you in the circle and snatches the bottle from you.

“That’s enough, Twigs!”

“No, you’re way drunker than me!” you retort. 

“You’re a lightweight, baby,” he purrs. “I care about your brain cells.”

“You’re more of a lightweight than she is,” Suguru chuckles. 

“Shut up, Sugu!” 

“Leave him alone,” you laugh. He’s disarmed enough for you to grab the bottle back, which leaves him pouting. He rolls his eyes as he watches you share it with Suguru.

The feeling inside his chest isn’t burning. It isn’t. If anything, he likes that you’re enjoying yourself considering the shitshow on Shoko’s birthday. If anything, he wants you on his lap laughing.

“Are we doing strip poker or not?” Shoko drawls, taking a large swig out of her sake.

“I don’t even know how to play that,” you whine.

“Put on a movie,” Utahime suggests, nodding toward the flatscreen.

“Booooooring,” Satoru complains.

“You’re just a pervert who wants to see everyone fuck, Gojo.”

Satoru looks at you briefly with a shit-eating grin on his face. His eyes are starry. The length of his body exudes arrogance. “Maybe I do. It’s my birthday, anyway.”

“Not midnight yet, stupid,” you remind him. “I’ll figure out poker if it means you’ll behave.”

“No promises.”

Half an hour passes and the rules of the game don’t register in your brain, though the rest of the group helps you enough to get by. It doesn’t seem to matter anyway considering how drunk everyone is, therefore the rules are getting loosened and lost as the game progresses.

A movie is playing on the TV per Utahime’s request – an American horror film that was released last month. It’s mostly uncanny to you considering it’s American, and the vampire storyline doesn’t make much sense to you. Werewolves end up getting involved as you absentmindedly watch the screen and the plot is forgotten by you.

You’re left in your tights and your bralette. It takes over an hour to do so – meanwhile, Shoko and Utahime were down to their bare tits; Satoru and Suguru are down to their boxers.

The inclusion of the movie has everyone as distracted as you. Suguru eventually falls asleep on the couch while Shoko and Utahime retreat to the kitchen to make cocktails. Considering it’s been at least fifteen minutes since then, you assume they’re somewhere else in the house.

“Those two are definitely fucking,” Satoru deadpans, his eyes still on the screen. “Oh fuck, are they decapitating that guy?”

“I mean, he’s the bad guy that wants to eat the main character, right? It only makes sense.��

Satoru rests his head on your lap. It reminds you of the sight you saw at Shoko’s birthday party. Your throat tightens. When the movie ends, Satoru nestles himself into your stomach like a cat.

“I wanna go to bed.”

“So go to bed,” you say softly.

“Come with me.”

“Okay,” you breathe. 

You follow him. 

Satoru’s bedroom is an oasis. You felt weary about getting so used to it for months, but his soft sheets and king-sized mattress have begun feeling like home since September. Not to mention Satoru’s affinity for spooning you, arms around your waist, and a leg draped over yours to cage you.

He doesn’t give you much time before he has you pushed onto the bed, his larger frame engulfing yours as he kisses you and runs his hands along your soft body. He grins at the way you moan for him and grinds his hips into yours because he knows how wild you get when you can feel him. You buck your hips up the way he expects you to. You’re malleable in his hands, just the way he likes you.

“Satoru, w–wait—”

“What is it?”

“Got a present for you,” you laugh. You crawl to grab the coat you came with to fish something small from the pocket. You cover his eyes with your hand. “Okay, just— close your eyes. It’s not that special but I wanna put it on you.”

He closes his eyes. You slip a ring on his hand — a silver band with a glittering turquoise gem. It’s not extravagant, nor were you sure if it was Satoru’s style, but it had spoken to you in the tiny shop you were in and it mirrored the color of his eyes. 

“Is this how you’re proposing to me, baby?”

“Shut up,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Don’t make a huge deal out of it. You can open your eyes.”

When he settles his gaze on the ring you’d placed on his left index finger, his gaze softens. The stone is as bright as his eyes and it’s also elegant. Elegant in the same way you are, he thinks.

“It would look good with what you usually wear,” you stammer. “And– it matches your eyes or whatever. A good luck charm and stuff.”

“Twigs,” he grins. “I love it.”

He almost says he loves you with how drunk he is. But he knows better. He’d rather show it through actions, anyway. Mostly, he wants to fucking eat you out with how sheer your black tights are and how little fabric your bralette provides to cover your breasts.

“Wanna give you head,” he mumbles, parting your legs.

“I feel like I should be the one that– aah!”

He’s yanked down your tights and underwear in half a second, mouth already closing in your pulsating clit. He moans at the taste of you and how wet and warm you are. 

So fucking sweet. You were made for him ever since you’d entered his life.

“S-Satoru–”

“This is all I want, baby.”

“But–”

“But what?” He stops, pulling away as he wipes off your slick from his mouth. He looks at you for a second, brows raised.

“Nothing. Happy birthday, Satoru,” you coo. You stroke his hair with your fingers, then settle your warm hands on both of his cheeks. Cupping them. Reveling in the blush of his pale face. When both of you look, you see that the clock on his bedside table is close to one in the morning. 

“Thank you,” he chuckles. His laugh is saccharine-sweet, dulcet in your ears. “I want to indulge in my gift, now.”

“Okay.”

You let him, because how could you deny him? There’s no way in your right mind you could let go of him right now — it all feels so fucking good. The way he kisses you like he wants to suck out your bone marrow, plush lips on your clit as he massages it with his tongue. 

You whine when you feel the loss of contact. Of course he wants to tease you, ease you into turning into a brainless puddle for him until you beg. He sucks love-bites into your inner thigh while he rubs his long fingers along your folds in a languid motion. He chuckles at the sound of you whining.

“What’re you whining about?”

“Want your mouth.”

“Let the birthday boy take his time, yeah?” 

You squirm in his grasp, bucking your hips up, desperate for him to bury his face in your wet cunt like you’re his favorite dessert. He groans something, snapping a mumbled command at you as he continues to teethe on the delicate skin of your thigh. 

His mouth cascades down your thigh, pressing a kiss to each of your knees.

“What if I made you cum nineteen times? Doesn’t that sound fun?” he teases. 

“N-no, I can’t take it–”

“You sure? I’d do it if my dick physically could. You can cum as many times as you want, though.”

“Satoru–” you groan.

He simply laughs, then licks a stripe from your knee up to your clit. When you feel his tongue again, you shiver. His white lashes flutter when you whimper. You reach down to smooth his hair back to see his eyes darkened with lust.

He’s sloppier than usual because of his inhibited senses, but he makes a mess of your pussy as he laps up the taste of you. Every rhythmic pass of his tongue over your clit sends sparks to your stomach and short-circuits your brain. You remember the first time Satoru had eaten you out months before, how he’d made you cry. It’s similar to how you feel now.

He moans against your cunt as you close your legs around his face, but he pries them apart and takes a handful of your ass to squeeze. You mewl when you feel his hand slap the soft skin of your ass, and you can almost hear him laugh.

You can barely say his name fully. Your voice only comes out in gasps. You have to keep yourself from crying out when you feel his fingers enter you while he sucks on your clit. Your eyes roll back in ecstasy. 

Satoru loves to spoil you. It’s his favorite thing to fuck your cunt with his tongue, laving your clit until you’re melting before he switches his method. The combination of his tongue with his fingers inside your hole has you convulsing. He loves to watch your face during it. His own is spellbound and hungry.

After you cum, you’re begging for him.

“Satoru, let me–”

“No,” he breathes. “Want you. Stay still for me, sweetheart.”

“I– I can’t–

“You can,” he laughs, slapping your ass again. “And you will.”

Your head is in the clouds, high as can be, and far away from reality. The way Satoru thumbs over your clit while his mouth works on your pussy has you nearly ascending. Drunk and crumbling, squirming underneath his touch. Desperate for him. Pathetic for him.

“Oh, fuck, you look so good,” he pants. “Fuck, just like that. Let go for me.”

“Oh my god–”

“You’re gonna wake the whole house, baby.”

“You said– Sugu was a d-deep sleeper– aah!”

Your head is full of air. Your cunt is petal-soft, throbbing from his touch, and he makes you come undone above him again as he laps up your cum right before he sucks hickeys into your thighs.

You whine at the feeling of him nipping you, pulling his arms toward you. He groans, grunting as he hits the mattress face-down.

“Satoru, let me return the favor—”

He swats you away when you try to touch him, which surprises you.

“I’m okay.”

“What? It’s your birthday.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he mumbles, his cheeks red. He’s breathing hard, panting like an animal. Your eyes widen when you realize.

“Satoru, did you just cum in your boxers?”

“Babe, I’m so fucking drunk—”

“You came in your fucking pants from eating me out!” you laugh.

Satoru groans as loud as can be, an annoyed grunt in his throat rolling out into a petulant roar. He runs his fingers haphazardly through his hair as he enters the bathroom, shutting the door and locking it behind him.

“Satoru!” you beckon, knocking on the door. “It’s okay to come fast—”

“Go to bed, woman!”

You can’t help but laugh, realizing there’s no point in arguing with him. If you knew any better, you’d assume he was jacking off right now into the toilet just from having to face you after getting embarrassed.

That might be true, to be fair. It’s hard to look you in the eye when you smell so fucking good and when you look at him like that—

“Fuck,” Satoru grunts before he releases into the toilet. He’s never cum so much in one night — certainly not so much in a night where he consumed so many different kinds of alcohol.

It didn’t matter, he supposed. You were the only real drug to him. 

He feels grateful when he returns to your sleeping figure in his bed, breathing soundly. Satoru is too drunk to remember how much Suguru hates falling asleep anywhere that isn’t a bed. Too drunk to care about what room Shoko and Utahime might be fucking in. It didn’t matter.

He’s nineteen now and dead-tired, satiated after eating you. Maybe a little in love, too, but he’s too drunk to think about it very hard. He’ll shut off yearning’s broken record the same way you do. He only cares about your warmth at the moment. The softness of your skin lulls him to sleep.

“How are you the first one up? And you’re making pancakes on your own birthday?”

“Twigs helped me, duh,” Satoru says, turning around to meet a disheveled Suguru stalking toward the kitchen island. “She knows how I like ‘em.”

“Good morning, Suguru,” you greet him, placing a plate in front of him.

“Oh, she uses my name now.”

You laugh while Satoru rolls his eyes, shoving a strawberry in his mouth along with a dollop of whipped cream. He notices your constant glances at him, grinning at you teasingly as your eyes rake the expanse of his bare back and grey sweatpants. You’d had to resist him this morning, complaining about your hangover and the fact that he’d woken up at 7 am sharp like a little kid. You’d let him fuck you in the shower, anyway. It had woken you up, at least.

Shoko and Utahime emerge minutes later, to which Satoru teases them about their midnight excursion.

“At least tell me what room you guys stayed in so I can get the sheets cleaned, my god.”

Utahime bickers with him as Shoko watches with amusement. Satoru argues back, bored, eyes drifting to you across the table as you talk to Suguru about some book the two of you have read before. He’s absentminded, mostly thinking about the way your mouth parts when he hits the right spot in your cunt, and how plush your thighs are, especially with hot water running down your body–

“You dickhead, you aren’t even listening!” Utahime seethes.

“I don’t get how you’re so stressed out this morning. Shoko didn’t give it to you good enough?”

“Satoru!” Shoko whines, punching him on the arm. She’ll surely excuse herself for a cigarette within the next five minutes because of him. 

“These are really good,” Suguru smiles, nudging you with his elbow.

“Thanks. They’re Satoru’s favorite.”

Suguru opens his mouth to speak again, but not before Satoru reaches over the table to wipe blueberry syrup off your bottom lip. The action dazes you, has you blinking up at him. 

“So messy,” he chuckles. You roll your eyes.

He has the urge to switch seats so he can be next to you and talk your ear off, be the one to make you laugh. He frowns when you ease back into your conversation with Suguru effortlessly. He decides to be a nuisance in other ways. Kicking your feet under the table. Sneaking sips of  Suguru’s orange juice.

You looked good together. It put a lump in his throat, thinking about how Suguru would ask you to go with him to the party. How you would say yes. 

Satoru contains himself. He’s distracted by your face anyway, the way your nose twitches, and the way you bite your lip when you think. He’s barely tuned into the conversation. Something about international politics. Anticipations for Jujutsu Tech. A Grade 3 curse that nearly wiped out Utahime before Suguru caught up to her.

“How are you going to get to Grade 2 if someone who isn’t even a first-year yet is saving your ass, Uta?” Satoru yawns.

“Utahime-senpai,” she corrects, grumbling. “And Geto-kun was just at the right place at the right time–”

“You were cowering a little,” Suguru adds, chuckling.

“Hey, leave her alone,” Shoko scolds the boys. She turns her face to you. “I don’t know how you can stand being around them all the time.”

“Aren’t you always around them?” you ask.

“Well, yes, but they’re a package deal. Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum. I don’t think Satoru even had friends when he met Suguru–”

“Hey!” Satoru whines. “Twigs is right here.”

“You’ve been holding her hostage since she was a child. That’s Stockholm syndrome at this point,” Suguru jokes. 

You smile a little. Satoru knows better. When he glances at you, you look away. If you were in a better mood, maybe you would’ve laughed, because there was some truth to it. 

Satoru swallows down the rest of his coffee, too sugary, tooth-rotting. He thinks about how he would pretend to kidnap you when you were kids. Cops and robbers. Trapping you in the nest he’d made in his tree house for hours, forcing you to play video games with him. He would try and fail to braid your hair and you would feed him sour gummy worms.

It had been a while since the two of you had innocent fun like that, he realized. In your prelude to adulthood, he’d driven himself wild about the physicality of you next to him. Smothered by him since the summertime. He liked that the two of you spoke in tongues, kiss-shaped secrets. He wants to be alone with you again even if he’d had you in the morning and the night before.

“I’m a victim,” you huff, sarcastic but lighthearted. “Save me, Suguru.”

Satoru frowns at that. You stick your tongue out at him, trying not to appear flushed when you take in Suguru’s laugh.

You weren’t sure how Suguru felt about you, but you knew you hated that he had an inkling to your relationship with Satoru. Maybe he knew that the two of you were fucking, but that particular aspect didn’t matter. It was the fact that it was easy to figure out that you were attached to Satoru like an accessory, his pet since he was young. A chew toy. 

When you talk with Suguru alone, you find that you feel separate from Satoru for once. Your own person. You could exist as yourself, and you found the idea of Suguru liking you for yourself rather alluring. Not that Satoru didn’t like you for you, but it was… different. He had always known you, possessed you. Like you were assigned to him, almost.

A sick part of you enjoyed that, at least when he was inside you. At the moment, in front of his friends, it makes your skin itch.

December, 2008 (One week later)

The last month of the year is a dull ache. Swollen numbness. Frostbitten heart. 

The shock of warmth inside the kissaten makes your cheeks hot despite your face feeling frozen moments before. It’s Western-inspired and cutesy with its overflowing hanging plants and vintage movie posters. 

You think about texting Satoru, knowing how much he’d indulge in the sweets, though you refrain. He would never be able to let you study. How he received such high marks in school was beyond you — he had to have some kind of attention disorder with how distracted he could get and his outright refusal to be academically sensible. And yet, he was at the top of the class. 

For the first time in a while, you don’t care much for your exams. You don’t really care much about anything, lately. The thought of attending university in the spring hadn’t yet come to fruition in your head. Nothing remotely tangible — the future is a void where reality should be. Ironically, the fantastical nature of Jujutsu Tech started to sound more and more appealing the more time you spent with Satoru and his friends. You curse how easily influenced you are. If you feel small where you are now, you would certainly feel small there. 

Thirty pages into your book, your brooding is interrupted by the presence of another. A glass is pushed towards you, green with whipped cream on top. When you look up, a cat-like grin beams back.

“This seat taken?”

“Not at all,” you say. “Is this– for me?”

Suguru shrugs. “They fucked up my order. Wanted a regular matcha, not whatever… this is.”

“A matcha… float?”

“Something like that.”

“Thanks,” you laugh. 

Suguru’s hair is up like it always is, in a half-up bun with the rest of his hair down. His broad body drowns in an oversized black sweater. A vision of comfort. You always liked that he smelled like white tea and pine. 

“Where’s your guard dog?”

“Hm?” you look up at him quizzically, eyes narrowed. “Oh. Ah, probably home, I dunno. Don’t you usually keep track of him? Package deal and all.”

He laughs and holds his jaw in his palm as he leans closer to you. Satoru was obsessive when it came to you, Suguru had noticed. He wasn’t sure if Satoru knew – always oblivious to the shit that fell out of his mouth. He was arrogant that way, not that Suguru cared. He could sense that you cared, though. 

You’d never been alone with Suguru, you realized, nor had you ever been this close to him. He always had an air of aloofness about him from afar, but the crease in his eyes brought comfort up close. It made sense that Satoru kept him around. He was grounding and stable whereas Satoru was unconventional and wild – the moon that controlled the tide.

In between them, you felt like a stray. 

“He’s obnoxious when you’re around. Barely gives you any room to breathe, that brat.” 

He says it with a playful tease in his voice, yet still apologetic. Maybe Satoru was more of Suguru’s pet, able to be tamed by him. 

“He’s alright.”

You smile shyly into your matcha float, hair falling into your face. Suguru gets it – Satoru’s weird fixation with you. Attached to you like a baby blanket. He could feel guilty about wanting to steal you away, but the desire wasn’t for the sake of cruel entertainment. He was merely curious. He liked your face. Your mannerisms.

Suguru’s name gets called from the counter. You watch him collect his drink and a plate of ogura toast. 

“Have you eaten?”

“Suguru, you don’t have to offer me your food after you just gave me a free drink.”

“Fine,” he smiles. “It’ll cost you then.”

You shove him in the arm, gently. Bashful. He thinks it’s a good look on you. 

“Sorry. You were studying, weren’t you?”

“You can stay,” you shrug. “Just don’t be too distracting.”

“So you think I’m distracting.”

“I didn’t say that.”

You can’t resist his Cheshire-like grin, robbing you of your pride. Satoru did mention that Suguru slept around more than he did, which surprised you at first considering how quiet and reserved he seemed. Now, you understand why, examining him as he flips through the pages of the book he brought. He was beautiful. 

The hour passes quietly. You steal a few glances, but nothing major. Suguru wordlessly feeds you small pieces of his toast dipped in the red bean jam, surprising you at first. Blushing when his fingertips are so close to your mouth. 

Satoru would be pissed.

“Okay, I’ve had enough,” you sigh, rolling your shoulders and resting your head on your folded arms. 

“Of my company?” Suguru asks.

“Never.” You shake your head. You yawn. “Of studying.”

Bleary-eyed, you look at him, hiding your face less. His eyes are dark, absorbing light. The inverse of Satoru’s clear blues. You scrunch your nose when the boy pokes your cheek.

“Hey, you doing anything for New Year’s?”

“I haven’t thought that far ahead,” you admit. “I barely know what I’m doing for Christmas.”

You’ve never celebrated New Year’s like other teenagers. Maybe you’d stay up watching television with your mother, sharing a barely-alcohol champagne as a treat. The clock would turn and you would go to sleep. It was always quiet like that in your household. 

The same would go for Christmas – you hadn’t been to church in years even though your mother insisted. On some odd years, you and your mother would show up at the Gojo household and help make breakfast, and watch Satoru open endless gifts.

“You know about the annual Gojo formal, right? For New Year’s?”

“I do.”

“Would you like to go with me?” 

He waits patiently, even though you must look like a deer in the headlights. You aren’t sure if you heard him right.

“Like as– as a date?”

“Sure,” Suguru answers. “As friends. Or whatever you’d like.”

You echo the statement in your head, mulling it over. Whatever you’d like. Was he flirting with you?

“Did Satoru put you up to this?” You pick at a loose thread on the sleeve of your sweater, blinking at anywhere but his face. He had to be asking out of pity. It wasn’t like Satoru would take you, you knew that. You didn’t belong at one of his parties.

“Hey, don’t,” he coos. You had only started spending more time with Suguru in the past few months, usually with Satoru, yet it seemed that you didn’t mind when he touched you. It still shocks you a little bit, but it mostly comforts you – the way he caresses your chin softly, turning your face to look at him. 

“It was my idea to take you.”

You want to ask who Satoru is going with, but you think it would give the two of you away, regardless of Satoru’s lack of discretion. As if Suguru didn’t already know about your feelings. You’d be naive to assume so, but you still didn’t want to have to talk about it all so candidly. It was easier to swallow it all down, to keep Satoru like a secret the way he kept you. 

“I’ll think about it,” you smile meekly. “I should check with my mother, anyway. I’ve never… attended one of the Gojo parties as a real guest.”

“Let me know,” Suguru nods. “Shoko and Uta mentioned they wanted to take you dress-shopping.”

You aren’t even sure if you can afford a dress suitable for the formal. Maybe you could borrow one of your mother’s old kimonos. You’re dazed trying to process it all. You imagine standing next to Suguru at a formal event and it lights your insides on fire.

“I’ll let you know.”

Satoru’s birthday, a week prior

He’d woken up past midnight to blue light flooding the room – the television on standby in the otherwise dark room. Suguru rolls his neck, head swimming from alcohol and a bad taste in his mouth. They all were probably playing video games in Satoru’s room upstairs.

Losers.

He trudges upstairs to take a piss and brush his teeth but pauses at the crack of warm light outside of Satoru’s room. He hears you whine. Rasps of pleasure rumbled from the deep parts of Satoru’s throat. 

When he steps forward and tilts his head, he sees you. Sprawled like a ragdoll, heat-flushed from the boy’s tongue in your cunt. 

You curse pornographically, palm to your mouth after an outburst. Satoru laughs darkly.

Gonna wake up the whole house, baby.

You said Sugu was a deep sleeper.

Apparently not.

The nickname coming from your mouth – mewling, teased out by Satoru’s large fingers in you – hearing it makes Suguru’s cock twitch in his pants. The sight of you is seraphic. Hair a mess on those stupid luxurious bed sheets. Bralette barely hanging off your tits and stockings down to your ankles like a real mistress.

If it were him, he’d use more fingers, he thinks. You could take it like a good girl like Satoru calls you. A princess.

Suguru remembers your reaction to being called that. It had awoken him in a small way back then, something on the brink of hunger, now full-fledged as he watches you.

Maybe he’s dreaming. 

He’d had his fair share of weird homoerotic experiences with Satoru. Boyish flirting that would end in wrestling. Drunk open-mouthed kisses before Shoko would pick them up to go to the movies. Absent-minded touching. 

They’d fucked the same girl at least once, never together. Satoru never cared about any of them. Suguru would be kinder to save face. You, though – you were beyond a dream. Of course, Satoru was obsessed with you. It was the first time the idea of sharing irked him, Suguru realized. It was why he nearly kept you on a leash, tight-lipped whenever you were mentioned.

Sometimes I want to kidnap her, I swear. Never leave her out of my sight.

“Fuck.”

He adjusts his pants, palming his dick just a little, knowing he should probably go to the bathroom already in case he gets caught. He groans quietly at your noises in tandem with Satoru’s. 

The two of you look like angels. Bodies snug like puzzle pieces. 

Satoru is kissing you, marking you up. Suguru can taste your skin in his mind, the shape of his name in your mouth. He wonders what you look like when you’re crying. He thinks of glistening cheeks. Heart-shaped bruises.

He could get you both alone, maybe, if Satoru wasn’t so goddamn stubborn. Possessive. Suguru wouldn’t be surprised if you were already branded by him, a tattoo of his name on you.

For now, he leaves to go to the bathroom.

Mid-December, 2008

You miss the summer. Before the white plague of snow and seasonal depression, you might even admit that you were a little happy. Wrapped around your lover’s finger, of course. Heart bursting like new lilies.

It takes more than a few missed texts for him to come barging into your room unannounced, interrupting your hypnagogic peace. He frowns at the sight of you in bed and flips the record you were playing – an old Ryuichi Sakamoto from your mother. He’s annoying as he crawls into bed with you, all six feet and three inches of him engulfing the bed. He playfully snaps his teeth at you when you try to shove his face away.

“So clingy,” you mumble.

“You like me that way,” Satoru says. “I don’t like when you ignore me.”

“I have a life separate from you.”

A lie. Nothing occupies you much, these days. 

Satoru yanks down your sweater and bites your shoulder. He must’ve been bored to come all the way to your house just for this. A puppy running out of toys to play with. Apparently, he has teeth like one, too.

“Stop,” you grit. “You’re so annoying.”

He insists on tangling his long legs with yours despite your short-lived struggle. You’re nose to nose. It reminds you of when you were both small, seven years old, and sleepy. Swapping words of a made-up language and Pokemon cards. 

He was annoying then, too, tugging at your sleeve and pulling your hair at any opportunity he could. Spoiled rotten. It was probably one of the worst things about him.

“So rude,” he pouts, curling into you. He inhales your scent and pauses. You don’t notice, but discontent flashes in his sky-blue eyes underneath his sunglasses. 

“Weird. You smell like Suguru.”

“How would you know that?”

He rolls his eyes. He wears Suguru’s clothes sometimes, knows what his mouth tastes like. It was always clean, similar to himself, but somehow more masculine. Earthy, like a forest. Not that Satoru would relay the details to you.

“I recognize it. That and his residuals on your clothes. Six Eyes, remember?”

“I ran into him today. We had lunch together.”

“Oh,” he murmurs. “I didn’t know you guys hung out.”

You clear your throat, avoiding his gaze. 

“He asked me to your family’s New Year’s formal. As a date.”

Satoru clenches his jaw, unfairly irritated. He refuses to let it be known, but his poker face is starting to crack. 

“What did you say?”

“I said I’d think about it.” 

He knows it’s selfish of him to be pissed off. No matter how much he wanted to claim you, he ultimately wouldn’t. He didn’t even particularly care about the formal, anyway – considered an afterthought. As usual, he didn’t think ahead. Didn’t imagine the hurt look on your face when you asked him who he was going with. Of course, it didn’t even occur to him that you would want to go.

“Mei,” he answers. “A family friend of sorts. It was my parents’ idea. Sort of a networking thing, I don’t know.”

“Have you slept with her?” you ask, hiding your face.

“God– no. Mei Mei doesn’t care about anything except status, anyway,” he stammers. “We’re friends.”

“Like how you and I are friends.”

“What? No– I mean,” Satoru sighs. His heart sinks a little when he tries to touch you and you turn your head away. “It’s different with us. You’re different.”

“I know I’m different, thanks,” you mumble.

You wish he wasn’t so close to you. You wish the smell of him wasn’t so sweet, so captivating. The warmth of his body next to yours. You wish he’d leave.

“You know what I mean. Hey, look at me. Don’t be mad.”

“I’m fine,” you snap. “Will you let me nap?”

“No, because you’re upset about me having a family obligation–”

“It’s not about her, it’s about–” You choke up. He wouldn’t understand. 

Family obligation. The statement makes you laugh a bit. You flash him a sardonic glare as he stares back. He would never understand what it felt like to be lesser. Barely second-best, barely an option. You imagine him in a suit, his arm around a prettier girl, a girl that exudes the same opulence as him. Cut from the same divine cloth. It would never be you. 

Maybe you shouldn’t feel angry. If it was something that his parents forced him to do, being upset about it wouldn’t change anything. But the mere fact of it reminds you of how long you might have with him – if any of this was worth the trouble. 

“Never mind,” you mutter. “I understand.”

He frowns, his eyes pleading for more from you.

“Makes sense for me to go with Suguru, then, I suppose.”

“Oh.”

Satoru almost winces at the sound of Suguru’s name. His throat tightens. 

You’re right. If anything, beyond a date at the formal, perhaps Suguru deserved you more. He was more polite. Golden-hearted. Never as trivial or obnoxious as Satoru. Always honest. The thought of you two together makes something in Satoru’s stomach lurch. 

Your face is calm, suddenly. A little blank. There’s nothing left to say.

[ericshoney]

Wild Card ~ Chris Sturniolo

When you first met the Sturniolo triplets, you felt an instant connection to all three of them, but mostly Chris. It wasn't romantic, it was strictly platonic, but you felt like Chris was your other half. He was goofy, funny, loud and lovable, much like yourself. Matt and Nick both loved to tease you about how alike you both were. It then sparked a long friendship.

So that leads to now. You and Chris had been left home alone, which wasn't a bad thing, but also not a good thing. Nick had a meeting for Spacecamp while Matt obviously drove him.

"I'm bored!" You whined, throwing your phone down that was still playing some TikTok you was watching.

"Sameeeeee." Chris whined.

"Do we still have those Nerf guns?" You suddenly asked.

"Yeah, they are in Nick's room, why?" Chris replied.

You flashed him a mischievous smile as you ran upstairs to Nick's room, finding the toy guns in the corner along with some ammo, before rushing back to Chris.

As you entered the living room, you saw the sofa had been moved, along with the pillows thrown everywhere. The kitchen table and chairs moved as well, creating some sort of battle ground.

"Yes! Great minds think alike!" You cheered, giving Chris a high-five.

"As soon as you mentioned Nerf guns, I realised your plan." He said with a smile.

You smiled and passed him a gun with some ammo. You both got into position before calling start.

The two of you got so wrapped up in your Nerf war, neither of you noticed Nick and Matt walking in, until they got hit with a foam dart.

"What the fuck!" Nick screamed.

"Oh hey guys!" Chris called, aiming for you again.

"What are you doing?" Matt questioned.

"What does it look like, Matt. A Nerf war!" You cheered, hitting Chris in the arm.

"Fuck!" He exclaimed.

"We left you both alone for an hour. One hour." Matt mumbled, shaking his head like a mother.

"I'm just glad they haven't broken anything." Nick said.

You giggled as Chris smirked at you. Both of you thought the same thing. Team up and shoot Nick and Matt. So that's what you did.

"Hey! Hey! Fuck off! We don't have anything!" Matt shouted, hiding behind the wall.

"Take us to Taco Bell!" Chris cried.

"If it will stop you shooting at us fine!" Nick shouted.

You both cheered, happy with getting your way as you rushed to the car.

"Fucking kids." Matt mumbled.

"Lowkey kinda fun though." Nick said, admiring the living room.

"Your paying at Taco Bell." Matt said as he went to the car.

"What!" Nick screamed.

As Nick got in the car, you and Chris were already shouting about Taco Bell and many more random things you could think of at once. Matt and Nick were still shocked that Chris found a friend so similar to himself, but honestly, they loved the dynamic and loved you too.

[twstfanblog]

For the manhwa au (no it didn’t take me so long to send this ask because I had to figure out how to spell that shut up 🙈), we’ve heard a lot about the trio and a bit about Rook, Vil, and Leona.

But I want to hear about Yuu’s friendship with Riddle, Ace, Deuce, Ortho, and Idia!!! We haven’t really touched on them at all!

We heard from Ace and Deuce that Riddle was less of a hardass over at Yuu’s place, Ace and Deuce were ready to punch Jamil when delivering his letter for him got them thrown out of Yuu’s place, and apparently Idia cares enough about Yuu to yell at Azul, but I want to know more about their relationships!

They are obviously very close to her. Gimme the platonic love pls. 💜🥺

*cracks knuckles* THIS IS GONNA BE ALOT

Ok! So in terms of Riddle, he was actually just as bad at first but Yuu is pretty blunt as a child, plus she's got the brain of a 20yo also packed in with her 8yo mind. She brings up the fact that this is HER HOUSE, so her rules and her rules state you have to have a bite of tart during tea parties. Not...not the sad cracker veggie sandwiches that his mom made him bring.

Riddle starts to really love being over Yuu's house because he can be free in his own little ways. He can have tarts, he can have as much honey in his tea as he wants. Yuu lets him borrow her overcoats so they can roll down a hill together. He gets to be a KID!

Ace and Deuce like being at Yuu's house because she treats them fairly. Riddle's other noble playmates all see them as merely servants, they're just like...bonus playmates to Yuu. They also know what Riddle's home life is like, they've tried to make it bearable. But Riddle only feels worse when they take blame for things and have to serve his punishments. Which is WHY they reacted so aggressively when Jamil's letter gets them kicked out of Yuu's home. Its the one place they can all just be friends and not have to worry about Riddle's mom punishing them for that.

Idia heard about Yuu for the longest time from Azul, who, due to his own misjudments, saw her as this purely malicous person. But when she's just...a person, he calms down. She's kinda mean, sure, but so is he, so is Azul. She also inherited Crewel's intimidating stare (resting bitch face).

Idia started info dumping when Yuu asked about a book he had brought to their lessons. He realizes hes been talking for like a WHILE and apologies and tries to hide away. Yuu very bluntly tells him, "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to know and I would have told you to shut up if I got bored." And Idia realizes that Yuu is painfully simple and that's...probably why Azul had a hard time seeing her for what she was.

Ortho is a wild card because (new development) due to some traumatic childhood incident, he's been bedridden since he was basically a toddler. He's on the mend, slowly, but his parents are still very concerned about his wellbeing and don't let him leave the house, and rarely his room.

He and Yuu become friends because during her and Idia having lessons, Yuu started sending Idia home with a book she thought Ortho would like. Idia had started out reading them to Ortho, but then, as he got better, Ortho was able to hold the books himself. He even starts to write reviews that he has Idia deliver to Yuu. They lowkey make a little book club.

Yuu and Ortho meet officially on Yuu's 19th birthday party and they are elated to finally hug each other.

[gunnerfc]

Lena Oberdorf NSFW Alphabet (18+, minors DNI!)

A: Aftercare

She’ll get you anything you need after sex or will already have it sitting on the nightstand because she knows you so well and knows what you’ll ask for

B: Body Part (their favorite body part of themselves and their partner)

Lena’s favorite body part is her legs, she has strong legs which is useful when she’s roughly fucking you

Her favorite body part of yours is your hips, she loves holding you tightly as she fucks you

C: Cum (anything to do with cum)

Will have you clean her strap after she made you cum at least twice

D: Dirty Secret 

She loves the sight of your head thrown back with her hand wrapped around your neck as she fucks you

E: Experience (Are they experienced? Do they know what they are doing?) 

She is experienced

F: Favorite Position 

Lena loves you on your hands and knees

G: Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous?)

She’ll make some teasing jokes here and there

I: Intimacy (How intimate are they during the moment?)

Sex is intimate but aftercare is more intimate

J: Jack off (Masturbation HC) 

Lena loves watching you get yourself off

K: Kink (One or more of their kinks) 

She loves wrapping a hand around your throat as she fucks you

L: Location (Favorite place to have sex)

She doesn’t care where the two of you are if you’re both feeling needy and can’t wait

M: Motivation (What turns them on?) 

Anything you do is enough to turn her on

N: No (Something they wouldn't do)

She isn’t opposed to anything but aside from the light choking, she doesn’t want to do anything that might be too painful

O: Oral (Preference on giving or receiving)

Giving, she would spend all her time between your legs if you would let her

P: Pace (Fast & Rough? Slow & Sensual?) 

Fast and rough all the time

Q: Quickie (Thoughts on quickies) 

Loves them, she’ll take an opportunity to make you cum

R: Risk (Are they open to experimenting) 

She is!

S: Stamina (How many rounds) 

You two go for many rounds before you end up tapping out because of overstimulation

T: Toys 

Lena has two different straps that she changes here and there to fuck you

U: Unfair (Do they like the tease)

Lena loves teasing you, she teases you so much in the bedroom and has a cocky smirk on her face at the same time

V: Volume (How loud are they? What sounds do they make) 

Lena groans softly as she fucks you but you’re the louder one between the two of you

W: Wild Card (Random HC)

You two slipped away from a team meeting to go back to your hotel room because Lena wouldn’t keep her hand off your thigh and it was driving you crazy

Y: Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

It’s high, she hates you two can’t spend all your time in the bedroom

Z: ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

Lena falls asleep pretty quickly after

[hd-junglebook]

Falling For It

Part 6 - Word Count 3067

This was kind of fun to write, part 7 should be done by Friday...I hope.

Prev … Next

Y/N descended the winding staircase, her bare feet padding softly against the polished wooden steps. The open layout of the Lakehouse allowed the warm glow of the moon to filter through the expansive windows, bathing the living room in a pale blue hue.

As she reached the bottom step, Y/N paused, her fingers absently twirling a lock of her long, tousled hair. She surveyed the room, taking in the scene before her with a small, contented smile.

In the kitchen, Quinn and Nico stood behind the sleek white marble island, their hands moving deftly as they prepared a colorful array of drinks.

Quinn, with his messy brown hair and vibrant blue eyes, laughed heartily at something Nico said, his head thrown back in genuine amusement as he poured a generous amount of tequila into a line of shot glasses.

Nico, tall and lean with a cleaner more sophisticated mop of his own hair, chuckled as he sliced limes with practiced precision, his brown eyes twinkling with mirth.

"Dude, if we keep this up, we'll be carrying people to bed tonight," Nico remarked, raising an eyebrow at Quinn's heavy-handed pouring.

Quinn simply shrugged, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. "Hey, it's not a real party until someone's not getting carried to bed." Y

/N chuckled softly to herself, shaking her head at their antics. Her gaze drifted to the living room, where Heather and Ang were sprawled out on the plush rug, their legs tucked beneath the dark wooden coffee table.

Heather bit her lip in concentration as she shuffled a stack of colorful cards while Ang leaned forward eagerly, her dark eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Ooh, I see some juicy dares in here," Ang sing-songed, waggling her perfectly arched eyebrows. "Tonight's gonna be wild."

Heather snorted, tossing a card back into the pile. "Please, you just want an excuse to make out with Jesper."

The soft, sultry beats of an R&B track drifted through the air, undoubtedly one of Luke's carefully curated playlists. Y/N felt a smile tug at her lips, the familiarity of the music and the easy camaraderie of her friends settling over her like a warm, comforting blanket.

She stepped fully into the room now, easily sliding behind ang and heather to sit on the plush cushions of the couch. Just as she began to get comfortable Quinn and Nico made their grand entrance, their voices echoing through the room as they carried the trays of drinks.

Quinn carefully set the tray down on the coffee table, the glasses clinking together melodically. Nico followed suit, his lean frame moving with an easy grace as he placed his own tray beside Quinn's. He straightened up, running a hand through his hair, and surveyed the room with a questioning gaze.

Quinn placed his hands on his hips, his brows furrowed in confusion as he took in the small gathering.

"Where is everyone?" he asked, his voice laced with a hint of disappointment. "I thought this was supposed to be a party."

Ang chuckled, her dark eyes sparkling with mirth as she leaned back on her hands. "Oh, I have a feeling the real fun is just about to begin," she said, her voice dripping with anticipation. "These truth or dare cards are no joke."

As if on cue, the sound of laughter and footsteps echoed from the hallway, signaling the arrival of the rest of their friends. Y/N felt a flutter of excitement in her stomach, knowing that the night was about to take an interesting turn.

Y/N reached for her glass, the cool condensation kissing her fingertips as she brought it to her lips. She took a sip, the sweet tang of the drink dancing on her tongue, and settled back into the couch.

Quinn's face split into a wide grin as he rubbed his hands together like a cartoonish villain. "Perfect timing," he declared, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Let the games begin." He rubbed his hands together with such enthusiasm that Nico had to duck to avoid getting smacked in the face. "Dude, watch the merchandise," Nico grumbled, smoothing his hair back into place.

Quinn opened his mouth to retort, but the words died on his lips as his jaw suddenly went slack. His eyes widened comically, and he froze, his hands still held up in mid-rub.

Y/N, Heather, and Ang exchanged confused glances before following his stunned gaze to the doorway. There, trailing just behind Luke's tall frame, was a familiar head of sleek blonde hair.

"Lexi?" Heather whispered, her eyebrows shooting up to her hairline. Quinn remained statue-still, his expression a mix of shock and something akin to terror. Y/N bit back a laugh, knowing exactly why Quinn was so thrown off balance.

Ang leaned over to Y/N, her voice low and conspiratorial. "Ten bucks says Quinn's trying to remember if he ever accidentally liked one of her thirst traps on Insta."

Y/N snorted, nearly choking on her drink. She couldn't help but feel a little bad for Quinn, but the sight of him standing there, frozen like a deer in headlights, was too hilarious not to enjoy.

Luke, oblivious to the tension, greeted the room with a broad smile. "Look who I ran into on the way out of the bar, we almost left her there!" He draped an arm casually over Lexi's shoulders, missing the way Quinn flinched at the action.

Lexi's cool blue eyes scanned the room, landing on Quinn with a predatory gleam. "Quinn," she purred, her voice dripping with false sweetness.

As Lexi sauntered into the room, Quinn shot a panicked look at his friends, silently pleading for backup. Y/N, taking pity on him, stood up and clapped her hands together.

“Okay losers, we ready to play?”

…

The room erupted into cheers and whoops, effectively breaking the awkward tension. Quinn shot Y/N a grateful look, mouthing "thank you" as he quickly busied himself with distributing drinks. Y/N grinned, shaking her head in amusement.

As everyone began to settle into their seats, ready to start the game, the room suddenly fell silent. Y/N glanced up, curious about the sudden hush, and felt her jaw drop.

There, standing in the doorway, was Jack. And he looked absolutely delicious.

He was wearing a fitted black button up that clung to his toned chest and arms in all the right places, just the few top buttons left undone along with dark wash jeans that hugged his muscular legs. His light hair was artfully tousled, as if he'd just run his fingers through it, and his blue eyes sparkled.

Y/N swallowed hard, her mouth going dry as she openly stared at him. She knew she was probably drooling, but she couldn't help it. Jack was a vision, and she wanted nothing more than to drink in every inch of him.

Unbeknownst to Y/N, she wasn't the only one affected by Jack's entrance. Across the room, Lexi's blue eyes were raking over Jack's form, a predatory gleam in her gaze. She licked her lips, a small smirk playing at the corners of her mouth.

Jack, seemingly oblivious to the attention he was garnering, scanned the room for a place to sit. His eyes landed on the empty spot beside Y/N, and he began to move towards her, a warm smile on his face. She threw her legs back onto the plush carpet, expectantly waiting for him to sit.

With a speed that seemed almost inhuman, Lexi leapt up from her seat and practically pounced on Jack. She grabbed his arm, her perfectly manicured nails digging into his bicep as she yanked him towards her.

"Jack!" she exclaimed, her voice sickly sweet. "Come sit with me!"

Before Jack could protest, Lexi had dragged him over to her spot, pushing him down onto the couch beside her. She immediately curled into his side, her hand resting possessively on his thigh.

Y/N felt a surge of jealousy course through her, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. She glared daggers at Lexi, silently fuming at the blonde's audacity.

Jack, for his part, looked mildly uncomfortable with Lexi's aggressive display of affection. He shot Y/N an apologetic look, his green eyes filled with a mixture of regret and longing.

Y/N forced herself to take a deep breath, trying to quell the anger and disappointment swirling inside her. She plastered a smile on her face, determined not to let Lexi see how much her actions had affected her.

"Alright, let's get this game started!" Quinn declared, his voice overly bright.

Heather reached for the stack of truth cards, her fingers trembling slightly with anticipation. She plucked a card from the top and read it aloud, her voice wavering with nerves. "What's the most inappropriate place you've ever had a makeout session?" she read, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson.

The group erupted into a chorus of "ooh"s and whistles, everyone leaning in closer to hear Heather's answer. She bit her lip, her eyes darting around the room before finally settling on her lap.

"Um, well..." she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "It was at my grandparents' 50th anniversary party. In the coat closet."

The room exploded with laughter and gasps of shock. Ang clapped her hands together, her eyes wide with glee.

"Heather, you little minx!" she exclaimed, reaching over to give her friend a high five. Heather ducked her head, a small smile playing at her lips despite her embarrassment.

"Okay, okay, let's move on," she said, pointing to Quinn, signaling his turn. He quickly grabbed a dare card from the pile.

His eyes widened as he read the card, and he looked up at the group with an embarrassed grin. "Let the group choose someone to spank you five times.” He sighed out, annunciating the words.  "Dawson, get over here” he stated.

Dawsons eyes widened, but he couldn't hide the small smirk that tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Alright, Quinn," he said, standing up and cracking his knuckles. "Bend over."

Quinn looked like he was about to pass out, but he slowly stood up and turned around, bracing himself against the back of the couch. Dawson stepped forward, his hand raised, and brought it down on Quinn's backside with a resounding smack.

He yelped, his face burning with humiliation as Dawson continued to spank him, each strike eliciting a new round of laughter from the group. By the time it was over Quinn was red-faced and panting. As he sat back down, wincing slightly, Lexi reached for the next dare card. She read it silently, her lips curving into a wicked smile, before looking up at the group.

"Kiss the person you find most attractive in the room on the lips," she read, her eyes immediately locking onto y/n’s before turning to Jack next to her. Y/N felt her stomach drop, a wave of jealousy and anger washing over her as she watched Lexi lean over to Jack.

Without hesitation, Lexi straddled his lap, her hands cupping his face as she leaned in and captured his lips in a deep, sensual kiss. Jack's eyes widened in surprise, but he didn't push her away. Instead, he seemed to melt into the kiss, his hands coming up to rest on Lexi's hips as she continued to ravish his mouth.

Y/N could feel the heat of rage burning in her cheeks, her heart continued to hammer against her chest uncomfortably. She wanted nothing more than to march over there and rip Lexi off of Jack, to yell in jacks face on the man she'd just been kissing upstairs, of the man that’s taken her on dates every week since they fatefully crossed paths again.

But she forced herself to stay seated, her jaw clenched so tightly she thought her teeth might shatter. She watched as Lexi finally pulled away, a self-satisfied smirk on her face as she climbed off of Jack's lap and returned to her seat.

Jack looked dazed, his lips slightly swollen and his hair mussed from Lexi's fingers. Ang turned to Y/N, her eyes wide with shock and concern.

She could see the hurt and anger burning in her friend's eyes, and she reached out to give her hand a comforting squeeze. Y/N forced a small smile, silently thanking Ang for her support, before turning her attention back to the game.

As the night wore on, the drinks continued to flow, and the dares became increasingly more outrageous. Y/N found herself grateful for the distraction, throwing herself into the game with a newfound determination. She laughed and joked with Nico and Dawson, purposefully avoiding any interaction with Jack or Lexi.

Hours later, the room was filled with the sound of drunken laughter and slurred speech. Y/N, who had been pacing herself throughout the night, seemed to be the only one still relatively sober. She watched as her friends stumbled and swayed, their inhibitions lowered and their judgment clouded by the alcohol.

Feeling the need for a moment of solitude, Y/N slipped away from the group and made her way into the kitchen. She hopped up onto the counter, her legs dangling as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm the swirling emotions inside her.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't hear Jack enter the room until he was standing right in front of her. Y/N's eyes snapped open, her heart skipping a beat as she took in his disheveled appearance.

His hair was a mess, his shirt wrinkled and untucked, and his eyes were glazed with a mix of intoxication and something else Y/N couldn't quite place.

"Y/N..." he began, his words slightly slurred. "I... I need to talk to you."

Y/N felt her chest tighten, a mix of anger and longing warring within her. She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could get a word out, a voice called her name from the other room.

"Y/N! Come on, we're playing another round!" Quinn shouted, his words followed by a chorus of drunken cheers.

Y/N hesitated for a moment, torn between her desire to hear what Jack had to say and her need to escape the uncomfortable situation. In the end, her pride won out, and she slid off the counter, brushing past Jack without a word.

She stalked over to the table where Quinn had set up a new round of drinks, without hesitation, she grabbed a glass and downed its contents in one gulp, relishing the burn of the alcohol as it slid down her throat.

She reached for another, and then another, her mind growing fuzzy as the drinks began to take effect. She could feel Jack's eyes on her from across the room, but she refused to meet his gaze, instead focusing on the laughter and chatter of her friends.

the night blurred into a haze of drunken revelry, Y/N found herself letting go of her inhibitions, her anger and hurt temporarily forgotten in the chaos of the moment. She danced and sang, her laughter mixing with the others as they lost themselves in the heady rush of alcohol and adrenaline.

But even as she let herself get swept up in the madness, Y/N couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something had shifted between her and Jack, that the events of the night had set into motion a chain reaction that she was powerless to stop.

…

Y/N stumbled out of the house, the cool night air hitting her flushed skin like a refreshing balm. She inhaled deeply, the scent of pine and lake water filling her lungs as she made her way towards the shore.

The moon hung heavy in the sky, its silvery light casting an ethereal glow over the rippling water. Y/N kicked off her shoes, not caring where they landed as she waded into the shallows.

The water was cool against her skin, sending a shiver up her spine as she moved deeper, until she was waist-deep in the inky depths.

It was only then, with the muffled sounds of the party fading behind her and the vast expanse of the lake stretching out before her, that Y/N allowed herself to break.

The tears she had been holding back all night spilled down her cheeks, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs as she tilted her head back to the sky.

"Why did you do this?" she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. "Am I not good enough for any man?"

The moon stared back at her, silent and unblinking, offering no answers to her desperate pleas. Y/N felt a surge of anger rise within her, her hands clenching into fists beneath the water's surface.

She thought back to all the moments she and Jack had shared, the laughter and the dates, the stolen touches. Had it all been a lie? A cruel game he had been playing, stringing her along while he pined after her best friend?

"If he wanted her, he should have just told me," she choked out, her vision blurring with fresh tears. "Instead of making me think that maybe, just maybe, he could feel something for me too."

She closed her eyes, letting the tears fall freely as she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hold together the pieces of her shattered heart. She had been so sure that Jack was different, that he saw her for who she truly was.

But now, with the image of him kissing Lexi burned into her mind, she couldn't help but question everything. "Was it all a lie?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the gentle lapping of the waves.

The thought was too painful to bear, and Y/N felt her knees buckle beneath her. She sank into the water, letting it engulf her as she cried, her tears mingling with the cool, dark depths. She didn't know how long she stayed there, her body racked with sobs as she poured out her pain to the uncaring moon.

But eventually, her tears ran dry, and she was left feeling hollow and numb, the anger and hurt giving way to a dull, aching emptiness.

Slowly, she rose from the water, her clothes clinging to her body as she made her way back to the shore. She knew she couldn't stay out here forever, that eventually she would have to face Jack and the rest of her friends.

…

[twignotstick]

Broken Brothers (and How to Fix Them)

Part 3 💜 | Part 1 <- 🧡 | Part 2 <- 💙

Note: This story is based on @cupcakeslushie 's Empyrean Weeping au. These characters are not my own, and this story is in no way canon to the main story. I wrote this as my love letter to the story and the characters. Especially April :)

Tags: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, ROTTMNT, Donnie & April, April & the Turtles, NOT MY CHARACTERS, Empyrean Weeping AU, recovery (hehehehehe), talking it out because we're adults, skating, social avoidance? idk how to tag that

Warnings (if there's anything I should add here, tell me please!): yelling, some violent actions

Words: 2,065

Summary: April was able to figure out her first brother easily. Now, she gets three more, with a couple more issues to worry about.

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

One brother was already a lot. He was sweet, if a little violent. April was content with one brother.

Then she found out he had two more. Lost in their youth, taken away, never to be seen again. Suddenly, one wasn't enough. April wanted three brothers.

So she got them. One by one, she welcomed her new brothers into their home. She helped them feel safe and welcomed. And, in turn, they helped her learn her place as a big sister.

Now, four? Four whole brothers? That was pushing it.

Donnie was a wild card. Some days, he'd bounce around madly, blabbering about whatever “improvements” he'd made in the lair (always putting Splinter on edge, yet he could never find any problems with whatever Donnie did, probably because his brothers did damage control before he could catch it). Other days, he'd literally hiss at April until she left. Not just left the lair; left the sewers.

This day was supposed to be one of those days. Donnie was visibly shaking with all the pent up energy in him. The brothers had apparently had an “intervention” with Donnie after the previous night, when he had almost broken a major support beam in the lair just so he could collapse it on April. Now, he wasn't allowed to show violence to April in any form for a whole week. In exchange, he'd be allowed to take a single blood sample from each of his brothers, which was the weirdest trade April had ever heard. But Donnie really wanted it.

And boy, was it hard for him.

“Did you see that?! Did you see? I totally landed that one!” Mikey yelped, shaking on his skateboard.

“Good job, big man.” Raph stepped up beside him, lightly touching Mikey's shoulder and making his eyes widen as he tried to maintain his balance.

Mikey had been wanting to practice his skate tricks, and Raph wanted to make sure he did it in a safe environment. The skate ramp in the lair was perfect. Even if they were just practicing kickflips at the bottom, it was safe and contributed to good vibes.

While Raph and Mikey stood at the bottom, April, Leo, and Donnie sat at the top with their legs dangling beneath them. Well, April and Leo's legs were dangling. Donnie was perched up like a frog, knees thrown out to the sides and his hands curled on the edge of the ramp. Leo, of course, was between him and his self proclaimed mortal enemy, absorbing as much murderous intent as he could. It was a lot, to put it nicely.

“Do you think he'll ever actually get to use the ramp?” Leo asked, enjoying the spectacle of his youngest brother getting properly babied by his oldest.

“Four is definitely tough enough to survive a fall from this height,” Donnie responded cheerily. “His shell is the best of all of us. A human, on the other hand, would likely get severely injured if they were to be shoved off the edge.” His face grew the slightest grin at the imaginary violence.

“Watch the language.” Leo raised a brow to Donnie. “And it's Mikey, remember? Not Four.”

“R-right!” Donnie stammered, patting his hands on the side of the ramp. “Four is Mikey.”

“No, Mikey is Mikey. His name isn't Four, and it never was. Just like my name isn't Two, Raph's name isn't One, and your name isn't Three. You're our brother. Donatello.”

Leo was getting slightly agitated, and Donnie- or maybe Three- was starting to fidget and rock back and forth. It was clear that Leo wanted Donnie to just give up all this number talk and act like their childhoods hadn't happened. But that was just an impossible task. April could tell that this situation would be quick to spiral.

“Hey, uh, Leo?” April asked, getting his attention.

“Yes?”

“Betcha can't do an ollie.”

Leo turned fully to face April. “A what?”

“I-it's a skateboard trick…” Donnie said, causing Leo's attention to whip around again. “F- Mikey showed me a couple days ago.”

“Oh.” Leo's brow ridges tightened as he whipped back to face April. “You think I can't pull some stupid skate trick? You are so on.” Leo slid down the ramp, using his carapace like a sled. “Mikey! Give me your board!”

Donnie watched him slide down with wide eyes. “Has he… ever skated before?” He asked, mildly concerned.

“Nope. Never even touched a board.” April smirked. “He's gonna be stuck down there for at least an hour.” She looked over at Donnie, who was gazing down at his brothers with a lost glaze over his eyes.

“You wanna go join them, Donnie?”

The softshell's neck popped as he snapped to glare at April. The murderous intent that had been building suddenly channeled into his face, and he growled before standing up and stomping away swiftly toward his recently decorated room.

April glanced down at the three brothers having fun, then pushed herself up to follow the one who wasn't.

“Wait, Donnie! What's wrong? I-”

“Stop.” The turtle hissed, not turning around to face her.

“Stop? Donnie, what did I-”

“I SAID STOP IT! STOP CALLING ME THAT!” He pressed the heels of his hands into the sides of his head.

“What do you mean? Just tell me what's-”

The turtle turned on his heel in the doorframe. “JUST LEAVE ME ALONE! I don't know how to put it in a way your STUPID HUMAN BRAIN WILL UNDERSTAND!” His face morphed into a manic grin. “Goodbye! So long! Sayonara! Toodaloo! GET OUT OF MY FACE!”

The door slammed shut, and April was left breathless.

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

April came back the next day to a much quieter lair. The boys were keeping space from each other, whether consciously or not. Raph was wandering around, trying to act like everything was okay. Leo was training in the dojo. Mikey was spending more time around Splinter than he usually did.

The final brother was still locked in his room.

April decided to join Mikey to bring him his second meal of the day. The first one, a small plate of rice, was still outside the door, now cold and dry.

Mikey knocked lightly, barely tapping the door with his knuckles. “Donnie?” He whispered. “I've got more food for you. It's your favorite- flavorless mush! I tested it myself, no taste at all. I promise!”

The offer was met with silence.

Mikey sighed and let his shoulders slump, backing away from the door. “I just don't get it,” he muttered pathetically. “He hasn't even come out to pee, April. Do you think he's just peeing in a cup? Or a corner? Does Donnie have a pee corner that we don't know about?”

“Mikey, it's okay.” April grabbed his shoulder. “First of all, yes, he probably does, and that just means we get to bond over cleaning his room when this is over. Second, you shouldn't have to worry about this.”

“I'm so sorry, April.” Mikey looked down to his feet. “I don't know why he hates you so much. Maybe if we hadn't-”

“Don't apologize,” April interrupted. “If anyone needs to apologize, it's me.”

Mikey looked back up at his big sister with wide eyes. “Why?”

She sighed. “Because I did something wrong.” April took the food from Mikey's hands. “I'll get him to eat. I'll text you if things go super wrong, but otherwise, ignore any loud noises. I have a feeling this might get… violent.”

Mikey puffed his chest. “Roger, roger!” He saluted and rushed down the hall, supposedly to find Raph and warn him of April's plan before he could start panicking.

April stood next to the door. “Hey, bud,” she started. “It's April. I've got your food, and I'm not gonna leave until you let me in to give it to you.”

After about two minutes of just standing there and getting no response, April sat down. She would say something every few minutes, just to remind him she was still there.

48 minutes later, the lock clicked.

April opened the door slowly. Glancing around the room, she could see the state of disarray it was in. Clothes carpeted the floor, as well as abandoned scrap projects. The turtle was cloaked beneath blankets on his bed, only his bright eyes glaring out at the invader.

She left the door open and stood to the side, getting just close enough. She didn't want him to feel threatened or trapped. She placed the (well cold by now) food next to the growling blanket pile and backed away. Waiting a second, just until he proved he would actually start eating, she spoke.

“Why don't you want me to call you Donnie?”

The pile shifted. “You just… you just can't.”

“Why not?”

“...because Splinter gave me that name. It's my name as his son. As Raph, Leo, and Mikey's brother. Not yours.”

April was about to pose a question, but the softshell suddenly sat up and started showing his anger. In the action, he also revealed the red marks growing on his arms from squeezing them.

“Because I don't care how much time you spend around us. I don't care how much One likes you, or how much Four draws you, or how much stupid stuff you watch with Two! You aren't related to me. It's scientifically impossible. We don't share any genetic material. You aren't my brother!”

With frazzled eyes, he turned and grabbed April's collar, bringing the two face to face.

“And you are most definitely not my sister.”

He shoved April away and sulked back in his den. The girl decided to take the violent outburst as an invitation to get closer, and sat on the edge of the bed.

“...that's okay.”

She only got a sniff in response.

“I don't need to be your sister. Or your brother. All I want is to be your friend. And if that means I call you something else, that's okay. Just tell me what you want me to call you, and I'll do it. Maybe I can call you Purple like Splints has been. Or I'll call you Three, if you really want me to.”

The turtle, Donnie to some, showed his face, keeping the blankets wrapped around his shoulders. His fingers were digging into his upper arms.

“And I know you might not like me, but I'm not going anywhere. Your brothers like me, and they'll be upset if I go away.” When she saw the softshell's grip tighten, she quickly added, “And I know that if they had to choose, they'd pick you. But they don't have to. They don't want to.”

The turtle stared aimlessly in front of him. “...I don't… I…”

“I can just not call you anything if you can't decide. Y'know, just call you ‘dude’ and stuff.”

His shoulders lifted higher, touching the sides of his chin. “That… that works…”

April smiled wide. “Great.”

The two sat there, just accepting each other's company. Donnie's tight posture slowly loosened, and April focused on making sure his breathing was even.

This poor boy had never known true family. He had never known learning to trust people and taking them in. He had never been taken in. This concept, choosing family, was so foreign. Because to him, family wasn't something you could choose.

April would never allow that. Never again.

“...sooo, do you have a pee corner?”

“What?!”

April held her hands up defensively. “Mikey said you haven't come out to pee! I just wanted to know if you had a pee corner!”

“No?! Why would you automatically assume I have a pee corner?”

“Because you haven't come out of your room to pee! What, do you have a pee cup instead?!”

“No!”

“Then what have you been doing?!”

Donnie pointed to a spot in the room, and April looked over to see a very D.I.Y. toilet, made of scrap metal welded together. (She could recall that Donnie's welding materials had been taken from him weeks ago.) “I hooked it up to go straight into the tunnels,” Donnie boasted proudly. “I even dug the holes myself! Digged? Dug.”

“...yeeeah, we're getting rid of that,” April grimaced.

“WHAT?! WHY?!”

“YOU KNOW VERY WELL WHY.”

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

[In time, Donnie would let April call him by his name. And, in time, he would learn that his name was his, and his alone.]

○●○●○●○

And that's it! Totally! April has started on her long journey to fixing all of her broken brothers! She has NO OTHER BROTHERS THAT HAVE ISSUES, why would you ever think that 🟥🐢

This part gave me quite a few problems. Knowing that the "Maps" comic is probably going to explore April and Donnie's relationship, I was a little scared about making assumptions. Also, you don't realize how difficult it is to write someone who isn't all there until you're actually trying to do it. Eventually I just said "screw it, if he's out of character, its fine". So now we're here :)

ALso, no one tells you how motivating and powerful the high you get when someone you look up to praises your work is, I thought this would take me WAY LONGER to finish 🤡

aanyway, congrats to all the tmnt au comp winners, again. Can't wait to see who moves on from here :D

Part 4 -> ❤️

[piratefishmama]

i feel like Modern Steddie would make an amazing 'The Proposal' AU.

like... Steve being originally from somewhere like Italy, and he's technically an immigrant although he's lived there forever, he's always been super on it with his visa renewals, but he's also a boss bitch high up Editor-in-Chief at a book publishers in New York an he ropes Eddie into a fake marriage to get a green card when he maybe forgot about his visa application needing him to stay in the country for a hot sec.

sue him, his memory has always been a bit shit! His mother used to say it had to be because he backed himself right down the stairs as a baby and bumped his lil noggin on every step on the way down.

probably correct. surprisingly he didnt die.

and Eddie is his deeply overworked assistant with dreams of being an editor, some might call him Steve's shadow, because he's always just kinda. there. like an off putting prop in the corner that looms there until he's summoned. He gets Steves coffee, answers his emails, reads submissions, gets him snacks and migraine meds at 2am when Steve cant sleep etc.

kinda wants to see Steve get hit by a bus, or at train. Whichever makes the most mess with the lowest chance of survival.

He hasnt seen his family in forever. (family being Wayne and the Hawkins lot), he's not rich, his family dont own some fancy business empire, they're just... really good down to earth people and Steve...

Steve who grew up with ice cold parents, who didn't really get the whole family experience, who never understood why Eddie could possibly want to spend christmas with his family instead of running around for him on christmas eve because ew family, is thrown for all the loops ever when they not only welcome him with open arms, but treat him as though he is actually family.

it's wild, and it's warming his cold heart, and oh no why is Eddie Munson actually charming, what the shit?

Is he in love with his fake Fiance?

Maybe. can he still go through with the fake marriage?

maybe not.

[dumbbitchenergy17]

Where the Wild Things Are - Chapter 7

Chapter Seven: Haunted Memories

Plot: Wild men or monstrous infected creatures, the world is wild and ravaged by Cordecyps but some are raised in it and flourish becoming a wild thing.

Word Count: 3.6K

Pairing: Joel Miller x Platonic!Teen!Reader, Ellie Williams x Platonic!Reader

Warnings: canon-typical fighting/violence, injuries, harsh language, tw: trauma from abusive mother, vomit, DESCRIPTION OF POSSIBLE SEXUAL ASSUALT

—————

I wish I didn't care. 'Cause I just can't compare and oh how the bitterness stings. What am I doing wrong? Do I just not belong? Oh, why can't I excel at something? Like you.

“What is wrong with you?”

Her voice roars through the small apartment rattling the walls. Your head instinctively ducks down at the sheer volume as salty tears already form in your eyes. You didn’t mean for it to happen it was an accident, you had a simple job go and get the food with the ration cards. Your tiny hands clutching the cards that determine whether you will eat or not as you race through the streets excitement across your face happy to provide help to your mother.

“How stupid are you?”

That insult was thrown at you so many times it slowly became fact. You were a stupid kid. A disgrace, brat, failure. Any comment under the sun could describe how stupid you were. The ration building was so close and the warm feeling ready to hear the praise come from your mother when you returned home.

“I should have made sure you were never born.”

Just feet away and your short legs tripped against some mere trash. You should have paid more attention, she says you’re always daydreaming your attention a thousand miles away. You hit the ground hard and fast, the scrape of concrete against your fragile skin as your grasp of the small paper cards gets picked up by the wind. You watch frozen on your stomach watching the ticket to a meal fly into the gutter disappearing from your view and in that moment you had been given a fate worse than death.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is living with such an ungrateful brat!” She was right you were one. You took her kindness for granted and this is how you repay her. Your hands clutch the end of her shirt tears welling up in your eyes as you begged for forgiveness.

“I’m sorry mama..please I’m sorry!” It hurt worse hitting the ground once more but this time at the hands of your mother. You hold your breath trying to keep in the tears but fail the second you smack against the tile of the kitchen. Fat tears roll down your face stinging the tiny cuts across your face from falling on the street as you cry before your mother. Her warnings to force you to stop go on deaf ears as you wail before her and beg for forgiveness. It was pathetic really. Big tears and snot pouring out of the child had only triggered the older woman more just the noise sent her into a rage.

“I told you…to stop fucking crying!” A harsh grip on your arm as you’re pulled to your feet stumbling to try to keep up. The door to the outside rips open as you’re tossed out your body colliding with the cold snow producing a sharp cry. Scrambling to your knees you look up at your mother disgust branded on her face as she stares at not a child anymore but a young woman.

“Starve for all I care. I don’t care about you…your bastard of a father never cared about you..the world doesn’t care about you.” Her words are like venom, as you bite your lip so hard blood pours from the self-afflicted wound. The door shakes on its old hinges as it slams shut. You race to the old wood your hands pounding on the door pleads falling from your lips,

“Mama…I’m sorry please let me in.” Your voice is hoarse and cracks with your words. The snow soaks into your thin clothes your body quickly numbs as you cry hoping she finds pity and brings you inside away from here where anyone could snatch you up and harm you.

 The cable wraps around your throat tightly dragging you away from your safety as your voice is choked by the wire. It digs deep into your skin scratching to pull it free as your precious air is drained from your lungs. The other raider stalks toward you in the snow as your legs kick out the storm rages on muffling your screams.

Cries for your mother to come to your aid.

Help me.

Save me. 

Love me.

Your prayers go unanswered as the cable gets taut, your lungs burning, screaming for air. The burly man towers over you pinning you the cold of the snow burning your skin as his hands move toward his belt ready to take what he wants.

This was what she warned you about. You’re a stupid girl who never listens to her.

“Mama please!” Your screams echo through the air as the man with no jaw reveals a rotten bloody grin as his hand grabs your pants.

Air rushes through your lungs as you shoot upwards the rapid ascent of bile as you fall from the bed pain pulsing in your shoulder. Your sore body stumbles to the bathroom barely reaching the toilet as you expel whatever little was in your stomach. Your eyes sting as you empty your stomach coughing at the acidic taste, feeling drained as you slump back against the wall. You wince at the inhale your hand raising to your throat sucking in a harsh breath feeling the bandaged skin but the light pressure just tracing it sends you recoiling.

Fuck that hurts.

Flushing the toilet while pulling yourself up with the help of the sink running the water to wash your hands and then cupping water in your palms to drink. Spitting out the water in the sink semi-cleaning your mouth from the bitter taste of bile you look up at the mirror. Why hadn’t you anticipated the attack? You should’ve known one was going to be coming from behind. Your brows draw together a deep frown across your face looking at yourself. Those dark circles, the weakness in your bones and muscles, you’re getting weaker.

Getting weaker makes you vulnerable.

Weak means you’ve become a liability.

Weak means you can’t protect yourself.

Weak. Weak. Weak.

The world wasn’t going to wait for you to heal. The world doesn’t care about you.

Your joints ache removing the bandages seeing the raw wound across your neck and the neat stitching along your shoulder. The water runs a murky red removing the dried blood and grime off your body wishing to stay under the hot water forever but you knew you would have to get out. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to running hot water.

You had to bite down on your lip to muffle the sounds of pain as you redressed your wounds and dressed in clothes. Your limbs ache and you already feel drained of energy but you need to persevere through. The house is silent looking out the windows it didn’t even look like the sun had risen yet. Your body begs you to return to bed and sleep but you ignore the rational side, when you lived in the cabin the few times you injured yourself you were right back at work. Surviving to get to where you are today didn’t allow you to rest, if that meant traveling with healing wounds or cold then it happened.

The walk to the stables could have been peaceful if it wasn’t for the slight pounding in your head that only grew worse when you made it to the building. You barely acknowledge the horses as they seem to sense your weakened state putting them in a concern mode. Red nudges her head against your hand when you pat the side of her face. A noise of worry for the young girl that took care of them all.

Joel was surprised to not be plagued with nightmares given the circumstances that occurred not even twenty-four hours ago. No dreams of failing those he cared about, watching the ones he loved taken from him so brutally leaving him just an empty shell. He was also surprised by the quietness of the home, no pounding of shoes rushing through the house or the banging of cabinets as Ellie went scavenging for a meal for the growing girl. Glancing at the functioning clock resting against the bedside table he saw how late he had slept in for. It was almost noon for christ sake he scolds himself. Pushing himself up and out of bed with a groan to get at the late start in the day. His joints ache and crack as he rises to his feet and the loud noise of someone bounding up the stairs makes him feel slightly alright knowing this was normal in this new life of his.

The pounding on the bedroom door was something he didn’t think was normal. A tired shuffle quickly turned into annoyance as he dressed himself as the door continued to be beaten by whoever was outside of it.

“I’m coming! You can stop your poundin’!” He shouts his voice hoarse from using it for the first time today. “Why the hell are yo-” He already had a feeling it was Ellie as he swung the door revealing the younger girl but what came out of her wasn’t what he expected.

“She’s gone!” The panic and fear in her voice and face seemed to completely wake the older man up.

“What?” Immediately alert as Ellie starts pulling him out of his room and dragging him to the stairs, “I woke up and thought to make you guys breakfast and when I went to go check out her she wasn’t there! Her shoes and coat were gone, and it looked like she hadn’t been there for hours. I wanted to go looking but I knew I should have woken you up.”

“Settle down kiddo, it’s alright. Get your shoes and coat we’ll go get Tommy.” And like he summoned his brother the front door swings open and in comes the younger Miller brother with surprisingly the person they were about to go after who looked on the verge of keeling over.

“What the hell! Where were you?!” Ellie starts spewing questions running up to her and grabbing her shoulders. The motion makes the older girl’s eyes widen and she pulls back right out the door barely making it to the porch railing before emptying her stomach right over into the snow below. Ellie and Joel jump back at the sudden action as Tommy who seems to have already dealt with this holds your hair back as you cough and spit out bile, the acidic taste bringing tears to your eyes.

“Holy fuck.” Ellie turns from the sight not able to handle someone being sick causing a turn in her stomach. Joel watches as Tommy gives some comforting words while you rest your head on the railing trying to catch your breath.

“Alright let’s get you inside,” Tommy says softly helping you back to your feet both men were surprised by the complacency given your rejection of their help last night. The younger Miller brother helps you sit on the couch pulling a blanket across your lap before joining his brother back by the front door.

“Where the hell did you find her?” Joel questions both men glancing over at you and the sickly expression and demeanour that surrounds you. “Stables was going to take her shift until someone could cover her. Found her barely able to stand looking like the wind could blow her away.” Looking back at you to find Ellie sitting beside you on the couch trying to offer you a glass of water and you accept with weak hands.

Your head was pounding with the weak sips of water added weight to your empty stomach creating more pain. Being in Jackson you’ve gotten too used to actual meals or decent food instead of picking scrapes or rationing food to last you when you were in the cabin. Even in Kansas, the limited ration cards were barely enough for a growing child your stomach used to times of going through the day with maybe only one meal or just a crumb of food in your body.

“Hey kid,” Tommy’s voice pulls you from your thoughts with a heavy head looking up at the older man squatted in front of you. “You just stay there with Ellie and keep drinking water. Gonna get you soup something light on your stomach alright?” You hum bringing your attention back to your drink and Tommy stands with a groan both he and Joel head elsewhere from your field of vision. You’re sure Joel said something to Ellie but your eyes drifted shut only to blink awake from a poke at your thigh and a whisper of your name.

“Thank fuck I thought you stopped breathing for a second,” Ellie sighs and you shift your position feeling a crick in your neck from how you rested it. Ellie sat on one end her legs crossed on the cushion while you were more splayed out on your end.

“Where’d they go?” You grumble rubbing your eyes and wincing from the soreness in your shoulder when moving it.

“Uh Tommy went to go get you some food from the mess hall and Joel went to get you painkillers for your shoulder and something for your fever,” Ellie explains fiddling with the comic in her hands. She felt a lot of pressure on her shoulders being responsible for someone much older than her. Joel basically telling to keep an eye on her and no matter the circumstances ‘Don’t Let Her Leave.’

You cough and a flare of dryness in your throat and you reach for the glass finishing the water lubricating your vocal cords, “I’m fine…” Your hands gripping the couch and trying to push yourself to stand.

“No no no. Joel said you have to stay here until they get back. You shouldn’t have been outside anyway with your injuries.” Ellie rises to her feet and grabs your arms pushing you back onto the couch a groan coming from you. “Sorry! But I can’t let you leave.”

“You’re an asshole.” You hiss your one moment of energy gone once return to the couch. “Whatever keeps you there, I’m gonna get you more water. Don’t move.” She says pointedly grabbing your empty glass she walks backward making sure you’re in her sites before bolting for the kitchen to get you more water. In the few seconds she’s gone you contemplate getting up and trying to leave but your body wins out on your mind shutting down in exhaustion.

“Alright, more water for you.” She holds it out and you accept it with a grunt, “You’re welcome.” Rolling her eyes she returns to her spot silence between the two of you before she speaks up.

“How did you get those burns on your arms.”

“No.” A tense air covers the living room and you can see Ellie fidgeting in the awkward tension and the coldness that came from you from just one word.

“I just thought…I don’t know if it’s good to talk about things. Joel says it isn’t healthy to keep things to yourself, though when I tell him shit he just scolds me and gets made like it wasn’t my fucking fault,” She kinda goes off track before refocusing, “I’m just saying maybe talking about it to someone who may get you. Instead of an adult that’s just gonna be annoying and berate you.”

“You’re like twelve though?” You say and she smacks your leg with her comic, “Fuck you I’m sixteen! You’re only two years older.” You smirk a light chuckle leaves you and Ellie has a look of shock.

“You just laughed? I’ve never heard you fucking laugh!” She gets all excited as you take of sip of your water, “And you’ll never hear it again.”

“Come on! You didn’t even crack a grin at my joke book and you know those were fucking funny.” She points her finger at you before leaning back against the arm of the couch. Your finger circles the rim of the glass your nails broken your skin littered with tiny cuts are fading scars.

“You can ask questions,” Ellie perks up, “But if I don’t want to answer you don’t push it. Got it.” It was a tiny step of her learning about you but she was taking it and running with it.

“Promise! Alright alright!” She fixes herself to be fully facing you an excited grin on your face.

“What’s your favorite color?”

Whatever time passed since Joel and Tommy left Ellie learned as much as she could from your favorite color even though you said you didn’t have one and she said everyone has one until you said orange like sunset orange, you were born in the summer though it took you a while to figure out when you were born, your favorite food being the chocolates Ellie gave you when you first met which lead her to run to the kitchen to grab them the two of you nibbling on them as you spoke, you told her you used to read when you were a kid taking as many books as you could in the QZ school library and during your travels to the cabin to keep you entertained the cabin having your ‘collection’ of books you found. It got to deeper questions that the light air took a different path.

“So how long were you in that cabin before Tommy and Jesse found you?” Ellie asks leaning her arms on her knees with interest.

“I found that place when I had just turned seventeen so it was still warm but it was going to start getting colder soon. I was with people for a bit before I left them. They found me and took me with them…they were Fireflies.” That piece of information has Ellie sitting up straight hearing the rebellion group she was closely connected to.

“You were a Firefly?” She asks and you shrug, “I didn’t believe and still don’t believe in that whole ‘Look for the Light’ bullshit. They didn’t kill me when I stumbled upon their base, they kept me alive and let me stay with them.” They could have killed you, you were just a kid with no benefits for them but they spared you. Kept you alive in this fucked up world.

“Why did you leave?” She asks. Had they come across people you knew when you were traveling? Ellie could tell Joel that you were a ‘Firefly’ maybe he’d met you before during their travels. Maybe Marlene knew of you or maybe Tommy might she was sure Joel mentioned Tommy being a Firefly once.

“Place got attacked. I’m not sure who it was but I didn’t have any ties to them. I wasn’t fighting in a dying rebellion so I left and found myself tired and bleeding at that cabin.” You say. You remember that quiet, the peace that was there in that building before you heard the pop of bullets, and suddenly people were yelling running towards the fight unaware it was coming straight towards them.

“You got hurt?” Ellie says concern in her voice. “Grabbed whatever I could and ran, whatever group or whoever was there got me. The bullet went right through my calf no matter how fast I ran. I couldn’t outrun them so I just lay there and hoped they thought I was dead.

The pain of the bullet ripping through flesh your body hitting the ground and you just reacted smearing the blood of the dead Firefly next to you and just laid there. You heard the footsteps drawing near until they stopped right before you and for a second you were actually fearful that you would die. You heard the clatter of the empty magazine land inches from your face before whoever was before you looted the Firefly’s weapon and continued on leaving you there. You weren’t sure how long you stayed there until you got up and limped your way out of that building.

“I fixed myself up then just walked until I stumbled up the cabin you know the rest.” You say and it’s quiet before you place the once again empty glass to the side looking at Ellie an unrecognizable look on her face. “You alright?” She quickly looks up the look disappears as well.

“Yeah..yeah I’m good.” She says with a nod and you return one as well, “It wasn’t an easy life but it was my life. I rather deal with the infected. They are predictable I know how they work. But people…the ones still living in this fucked up world. They are the reason I stayed in the cabin.”

It was an understandable reason, infected were easier to read and how to avoid them or to kill them. Humans had different ideas and ways of living, and that made them more dangerous. If it wasn’t for a fungus infecting a majority of them we all would have killed each sooner or later.

“All these years who taught you to survive…who looked after you in the QZ? Where were your parents during all of this.” The shock in your veins just from the mention of the two people who created you, mainly the one who was in your life.

“You think I’m going to look after an ungrateful fucking brat?!”

With the slam of that glass bottle, the chips and cracks form just waiting for the one moment when it explodes when slammed just hard enough.

The smell of the smoke would cloud the house, making your eyes water, and your lungs tight begging for fresh air.

Your skin burns as the stick is held against your skin. Screams and pleads blare in your head.

“This is all your fault!”

“Pass.”

Where the Wild Things Are Tags

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[sinvilles]

Alterations

Sobriety AU Drabble. Clay/Danielle, 15+ for language.

Clay finds his mother’s recipe cards.

Special thanks to @khanumshahrzad and @cheonsa-n for feedback!

Dear Orel,

I hope you and your family are well. It’s great that you’re traveling. I think your father would be happy about that, but he’s in a volatile mental space at this time so I have yet to share the news with him— that and he doesn’t know I’m writing you about him, and would probably be embarrassed to find out. To answer your question, I don’t think he’s emotionally ready to see you again just yet, but he is getting there.

This month your father has made an amusing foray into the world of domestic labor. Since he ceased drinking he has been plagued with the horrors of puerile boredom. This lack of stimulation has made him so antsy that last week he just about blew up the farm mixing the wrong cleaning chemicals. He insisted that he didn’t need my help, yet he has consistently called for it on a daily basis since beginning his journey into the frigid waters of sobriety. 

I don’t begrudge this of him; if it were me that was vulnerable, then I would also hope for someone with a conscience to look out for me in my time of need. Sadly, my conscience has its limitations. I will admit— and you know this, Orel— his quirks can be exhausting beyond human comprehension. For one, he is not apt to admit he’s mistaken. But let me start at the beginning.

The smell of something savory punctuated the afternoon. As Danielle closed the front door behind him, he felt a homey sense of peace swirl alongside him and hoped it would mean a nice dinner wasn’t too far ahead. He followed the scent into the kitchen, only to remember whose house he was in. 

Clay, by some ungodly means, had managed to pile six crusty ceramic and aluminum pans into the sink. He was working on defiling a seventh on the stove, stirring at his hearty smelling concoction with a look of pure concentration and a zeal that was almost religious.

Rather than interrupt him, Danielle was compelled to observe him a little longer, just to see what he would do. And what he did was lift the ladle to his lips, take a quick taste, and pause with a blank expression.

He grabbed the pot and dumped its still bubbling contents in the trash.

Danielle coughed, which caught his attention. His concentration broke into a grin.

“Oh, didn’t hear you come in.” His wild eyes sparkled as he piled another pot in the sink. “You’ll never guess what I found.”

“You’re right. I’m stumped.” He stares at the mess.

Clay shoves a little wooden box in his face, which he accepts from him. He fingers through the dozens of cards in it, daintily handwritten in cursive.

“Recipes?”

“My mother’s recipes.”

This man and his goddamn mother. Danielle recalled the obsessive detail with which he had described her long-gone presence in the house the second time he had come to see him. Pointing out how and where she had liked to sit in the living room, her favorite bible reading spot— even where she had fallen cold and dead in his fathers study. For all he knew, Clay could still see her ghost walking around, carrying on her chores, haunting him.

“So, I don’t mean to pry…”

“Pry away, buddy.” He stared lovingly at the recipe card in hand.

“I was only wondering why you’ve thrown out all this wonderful smelling Brunswick stew.” Danielle glanced into the trash.

Clay turned to face him, a very serious expression on his face.

“I just can’t get it to taste like she made it.”

“Uh-huh.”

You see, Orel, your father’s obsession with “getting it right” borders on the comical. I say “borders” because it slams face-first into the grotesque. I’ll be the first to admit to my own obsessive nature, but this is ridiculous.

Danielle swipes his finger along the edge of the last pot, gathering what’s left of the stew and gives it a taste.

“This tastes fine. Good, even.”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t good, it’s just not right.”

“I see.” Danielle sighed. “But isn’t it a sin to let all this food go to waste?”

“It’s also a sin not to honor your mother.” He mumbled. “And that one actually is a commandment so it ranks above waste.”

“Right.” Danielle considered the merits of walking out on him right there and then, but paused as he remembered that he promised this man’s son he’d look out for him. 

“So, Clay… what makes yours different from hers?”

“It’s just not the same!” Clay whips around to face him. “I’m following the recipe to the milligram, as she wrote it and something about it is off and I just don’t get it!”

Danielle looks at the recipe card.

“This one uses ground pork. You know, I always had it with pulled pork.”

“Hah! Shows what YOU know.”

"Show's what you know," he said to me. What else could I do? I pulled my sleeves up like a man and did the dishes. I admired his commitment, at least. That night I helped him try two more variations of the same ingredient combination. I had at least managed to convince him to waste his food in smaller batches, and I ended up eating the last one myself when he wouldn't touch it. I thought he'd given up, but lo and behold, three days later, he sent me on a shopping trip with the exact same list of ingredients.

"Have you considered trying a different recipe?"

"No. I'm getting it right this time, I know it." There was a feverish gleam in his eye. "It's got to be that she used canned corn and not frozen corn."

So he tried several times again, varying the order in which he put in the ingredients: 

Chicken stock, canned tomatoes, ketchup, canned corn, Worcestershire sauce, barbecue sauce, hot sauce,  salt, pepper.

Canned tomatoes, canned corn, salt, pepper, chicken stock, hot sauce, Worcestershire sauce, ketchup.

Hot sauce, barbecue sauce, ketchup, Worcestershire sauce-

"That probably isn't it, Clay." He just barely held back his exasperation. "Maybe it's a different cut of meat -"

"IT IS NOT A DIFFERENT CUT OF MEAT!" He snarled, dumping another stew into the sink, this time slamming the pot in after it with a clang. "If the recipe card says ground pork, then it's ground pork. She would NEVER-"

When he turned to face him, his anger evaporated.

"I'm sorry."

"If you yell at me again, I'm not helping you any more."

"No, no, no, wait. You know, it might be something in the sautée."

Danielle sighed and pulled out another onion.

This farce went on for another two days. I don't know what compels me to indulge him like this. I suppose it wasn't really about the stew at all, and that being in his childhood home again just made him miss his mother. 

Did your father ever tell you about your grandmother? She seemed a remarkable woman. Before she had your dad, she was adventurous and lively, but she had a drinking problem that she gave up because she wanted a baby so badly. You see, because she drank she kept losing them. Once she quit, your dad finally came into the world. In a way, since he stopped drinking, your father is trying to do a similar thing for you. Adults can be complicated, and you can't always explain when or why they choose to do things. 

I think his problem is that he thinks, or rather insists, that she was perfect. I think maybe when he hears the voice of God chastising him in his head, it sounds like her.

On the fifth day, Clay had surrendered to the wave of hopelessness that washed over him. There was no recreating that distant memory of his mother's cooking. As he lay on the couch, he stared up at the ceiling.

"I'm a total failure. I couldn't even get this right..."

"Your mother would have been proud of you for trying." Danielle said flatly as he held out a box of tissues. "Let's eat out."

"I'm not hungry." 

"You can't NOT be hungry." He dropped the tissue box on Clay's chest and gritted his teeth. "You have eaten nothing but spoonfuls of the same damn stew for a week. We are going to a restaurant and you are going put food in your mouth and chew it and swallow it— or so help me I will tie you up and force feed you myself."

He glanced at his jailer-slash-life coach-slash-only-friend-left-in-the-world and blinked at him.

"You promise?"

They wound up at a diner that they often found themselves in. The dinner hour wasn't too crowded— most people didn't come to sit along the edge of Sinville during the evening hours, as they much preferred to dive right into the nightlife and what it had to offer. For Clay, who had to avoid even thinking about alcohol, the pickings were much slimmer.

The waitress brought them waters. Danielle ordered a soup and salad, and when his somber date wouldn't look at the menu he ordered him the special without looking at it.

He watched him as he stared into his water.

"Clay..." he sighed. "I know this is hard."

He looked up to meet his eye.

"No, you don't." 

"I can see it. All of this is hard for you. Physically and emotionally." He rubbed his forehead, too stressed to meet his gaze directly. "You have... a lot to grieve."

"Oh, no, you have it all wrong. I'm glad I'm rid of it. All of it." He laughed, sounding broken. "I have NEVER been more free than I am right now. Isn't that crazy?"

He pulled up the left pant of his slacks and stuck his leg out, pointing at the alcohol monitor bracelet on his ankle.

"Even with this thing threatening to call the cops on me if I slip up even once— I'm finally free!" He slammed his fist on the table, sending a tremor through his water glass. "I got what I wanted. I'm liberated now. Now all I need is to just be happy!”

What few heads were in the diner had quietly turned to look at him. Danielle glared around, daring them to eavesdrop— very quickly they went back to minding their business.

"You don't have to rush it. Any of it." 

His expression softened and returned to the state of a sad watery-eyed kitten.

Danielle's gaze fell to the table and rested on a pair of shakey hands. He closed his eyes and pushed down the urge reach out and squeeze them.

"I just need you to eat something. That's all I'm asking."

The waitress returned as if on cue and put down the minetrone soup, greek salad— and a bowl of brunswick stew in front of Clay.

Danielle buried his face in his hands.

"We can send it bac-"

"Whatever, I don't care." He muttered, shoving a heaping spoon into his mouth

He stared as if transfixed. Slowly, he chewed, swallowed, and took another bite. He chewed even slower.

Opposite him, Danielle watched his reaction as he let the mouthful linger.

He swallowed.

"This is it." His eyes darted around.

"What?"

"This is her stew!" He stood up and turned to the waitress. "I need to know what the cook put in this!"

"Um, sir!" She started as he ran past her. "You can't go into the kitchen!"

"Jesus fucking Christ..." 

Danielle followed, swinging doors hitting him as his poor, wretched friend barreled into the kitchen to solve a mystery that had been driving him crazy for a week.

He appeared to argue with the line cook for a second before he shoved a piece of paper in his chest and told him to get out of his kitchen. They were both promptly escorted out of the diner.

When he read the recipe he fell silent. They were in the car and Clay must have read the paper for the dozenth time before Danielle finally bit.

"So? What's different?"

"It's the same thing."

He went quiet for a beat.

"Except..."

"Except what?"

He mumbled something.

"Didn't catch that."

"They use pulled pork."

"You mean your mother used pulled pork."

"I don't understand it." His voice quivered.

"It's not that hard. She did what everyone else does. Everyone makes it that way. My family made it that way. And now you know that she also‐"

"But why did she lie on the recipe card?" He was in tears at this point, holding his head in his hands. "I believed her..."

Whatever schadenfreude he had left leaked out of him like a deflating balloon— once again he could see the wounded little boy in him.

"You know… maybe when she wrote it, that was what she believed it should be…and then when she saw you liked the other version better..."

He trailed off as Clay's sobs began to reverberate in his ear. It was time to take him home.

You should never idolize anyone too much, Orel. Not even me. People are only human, as you are, as am I, as is your mother, and as is your poor old dad. But you can always try to believe in them, and have faith in them, even if they do disappoint you— and they will. That is up to you, though.

Truthfully,

Coach Stopframe

[brokenpieces-72]

I know that soap is closer to reader than some of the others, but I was wondering what her dynamic with the rest of the 141 is? - 🇰🇷 anon

Hey 🇰🇷 anon. In terms of dynamic it’s a few things for each person.

Johnny is the older brother who sometimes has to fill the dad role. He owns it too. While he doesn’t have a good grip of what being a jackalope hybrid that can shift into a wendigo is like he does what he can to at least make you comfortable. You are top priority, and it can become difficult to set aside your bond to get serious with you.

Kyle is your buddy. He looks out for you as does the rest of the team but if you just want to sit and not talk much or just chill he’s down. If necessary he helps keep you in line, while still being a bit softer about it. After hearing your story, he made sure to be close and watch over you, talking to your mores, encouraging you to be a teenager and try to make friends your own age if you can.

Simon at first thought you were going to be around for maybe a month tops. It’s been much longer than a month and he’s become your shadow. He keeps an eye on you from a distance. Simon lost his brother some time ago, over time he’s come to find a similar attachment. Simon doesn’t baby you, in fact it was his original goal to scare you off. He gives you the benefit of taking you seriously, especially after he learns you didn’t get to have much of a childhood.

Price is still trying to figure what exactly the dynamic between you two is. Not a man who spends too much time with kids and he originally didn’t want to have you on the team, you were an obligation. Some wild card that was being thrown in to the game because the rules said it could be there. Now he’s got a bit of a dad side to him, messing with you from time to time, keeping you in line and laying down the law when he has to.

Rodolfo is your mentor and friend. The dogs like having a younger human around and while Rodolfo might not be a dad he’s still a good teacher. Like Price he wasn’t sure how he felt about someone so young coming to the base, but it didn’t stop him from teaching you everything you needed to know or wanted to know. He likes having you around.

Alejandro is like your uncle, which means he gives you his opinion straight. There are still expectations he has and he pushes you hard, you don’t have limitations in his eyes. Despite this, he knows you can run low, and if you can’t go to Johnny then Alejandro will come to you. Rudy might show you the basics but Alejandro teaches you how to go beyond.

Horangi sees you as a stray cat that keeps coming by his back door. You’ll meow a couple times see if he comes around to greet you. Recently he’s started thinking about his own family, having distanced himself from them to keep them safe. Your habit of getting him to chuff in haetae form has made you into a bit of a brat in his eyes. You went from being the stray, to Horangi becoming the antisocial cat. He comes to you if he feels like, if he finds himself longing for that sense of family and companionship.

König is your big bestie. You’re each other’s safety net. You help each other every mission, and if either of you aren’t on a mission you wait patiently for the other to come back. You check in with him before and after, making sure he’s okay. If he passes out you come by regularly to see if he’s woken up yet. You tease each other, cuddle, and yes at one point you tried braiding König’s hair. König is intimidating in his size but next to you, he comes off softer.

Taglist: @yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @sans-chara @1mommyrose4ever29 @smitten-haematite-quartz @talia-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846 @graystorm444 @chibiduck @reaperxxxxzz @danielle143 @sobbingnshtting @cringeycookies @cryingpages @dcnocap207 @reaper-chan666 @bestbookfriends

[shenspeaker]

Circle of Sports Homebrew

Have been wanting to whip this up since last week's episode. I love the circle of sports. Used the circle of stars as a base, even though circle of spores is the more obvious typo lol. Enjoy!

 Druid: Circle of Sports

Since the first being aspired to test their might, hone their skill, and chase the thrill of victory, the power of sports has shaped the planes.

None understand this better than the druids of the Circle of Sports, students of the Plane of Sports. These druids have balled since time immemorial, dunking with primordials and discovering lost secrets in the ancient temples of gains. By honoring sportsmanship, competition, and the purity of the big man taking the rock all the way to the points hole, the Circle of Sports pursue teamwork, self-betterment, and a dynamic universe full of excitement and challenge.

Many druids of this circle keep records of the Great Games of the world, feats of strength and sportsmanship that ring forever in the legendary Hall of Fame at the heart of the Plane of Sports. They contend these records hold the spirits of those who came before, and can serve as markers, clues, and guides to what is possible. Shrines, gyms, trophies, trading cards, or artifacts signed by heroes long passed are both defended and sought after by these sages, scoundrels, and adventurers alike. Other druids seek to place their own names in the Hall of Fame and pave the way for heroes yet to come.

Sports Trance

When you join this circle at 2nd level you form a link to the Plane of Sports that grants you proficiency in Athletics and doubles your proficiency bonus for any check made using Athletics. If you already have proficiency in Athletics you may gain proficiency in a different skill of your choice.

Additionally, you learn to ascend your consciousness to the sequestered Plane of Sports and enter a sports trance. While in this trance your body becomes a Tiny sports-related object of your choice, with resistance to all damage, that can be used as a simple melee weapon that deals 1d8 bludgeoning damage and has the finesse, light, and thrown properties (range 20/60).

While in this state you are unconscious, but can be roused as if from sleep, ending the trance. You can complete a long rest in 4 hours, if you spend those hours in this trance.

Circle Spells

The pure energy from the Plane of Sports grants you access to some spells when you reach certain levels in this class, as shown on the Circle of Sports Spells table.

Once you gain access to one of these spells, you always have it prepared, and it doesn't count against the number of spells you can prepare each day. If you gain access to a spell that doesn't appear on the Druid Spell List, the spell is nonetheless a druid spell for you.

Druid Level - Spells

2nd - Compelled Duel, Catapult

3rd - Kinetic Jaunt, Spiritual Weapon

5th - Motivational Speech, Haste

7th - Freedom of Movement, Staggering Smite

9th - Conjure Volley, Greater Restoration

Sports Form

At 2nd level, you gain the ability to harness the power of sports to alter your form. As a bonus action, you can expend a use of your Wild Shape feature to take on a sports form, rather than transforming into a beast. Changing into a sports form ends any other active Wild Shapes.

While in your sports form, your clothes take on the appearance of appropriate sports attire, and appropriate sports-themed music plays. The form lasts for 10 minutes. It ends early if you dismiss it (no action required), are incapacitated, die, or use this feature again.

Whenever you assume your sports form, choose which of the following styles you embody; your choice gives you certain benefits while in the form:

Fastball. A series of sports-themed balls and projectiles appear in orbit around you. When you activate this style, and as a bonus action on your subsequent turns while it lasts, you can make a ranged spell attack, hurling a ball or other projectile that targets one creature within 60 feet of you. On a hit, the attack deals bludgeoning damage equal to 1d8 + your Wisdom modifier.

Nike. An incredible set of appropriate sports footwear appears on your feet. While in this style your walking speed increases by 15 feet. You gain a swimming and climbing speed of 30 feet. If you already have a swim and climb speed, you can instead increase that speed by 15 feet. When you jump, you may add twice your proficiency bonus in feet to the distance in any direction.

Roughhouse. Your muscles bulge and glisten as if oiled. In this style you can add your Wisdom bonus to Strength checks, Strength saving throws, and Constitution saving throws to maintain concentration. In this form you can make a grapple or shove attack as a bonus action.

Rally the Team

When you reach 6th level, you learn to channel the power of sports to your allies. As a bonus action, all creatures you choose within 30 feet may either gain 1d8 temporary hit points or immediately roll a save to end any continuous negative effect that could normally be negated with a successful saving throw. They must be able to hear or see you to gain this benefit.

You cannot use this ability again until you finish a short rest.

Welcome to the Jam

At 10th level, the styles of your Sports Form improve. The 1d8 of Fastball becomes 2d8. While Nike is active all opportunity attacks have disadvantage against you. While Roughhouse is active you can grapple or push creatures of any size without penalty.

Moreover, at the start of each of your turns while in your Sports Form, you can change which style you embody.

Hall of Fame

At 14th level, your connection to the plane of sports has become something of legend. While in your Sports Form, this legacy grants you a kind of immortality, giving you resistance to bludgeoning, piercing, and slashing damage.

[whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk]

Happy WIP Wednesday! ✨

In honour of Bridgerton being released tomorrow, here is a snippet from a fic I've been working on for Cassian Week that was partially inspired by Bridgerton. Expect a grand ball, human!Nesta, jealous!Cassian, and a pesky mating bond thrown in for good measure 😉

Cassian was not jealous. Absolutely, categorically, not fucking jealous of some mortal men simpering for a dance with Nesta fucking Archeron.  And yet... The sight of her in the arms of another man had his heart tightening, like an invisible fist had plunged through his chest and gripped it until it hurt. The man she danced with was slim and blonde, dressed in navy blue, his pale hand drifting down her spine to settle at her lower back, fingers splayed at the small of her spine, and suddenly Cassian had an overwhelming urge to break those fingers— to snap every single one.  There was something magnetic, something fucking alchemical, in the way she moved through the steps, turning something he’d thought might be dull and boring into something so wildly beautiful he couldn’t keep his head straight. Her every step was one of such stunning command that Cassian couldn’t help but be reminded of a game of chess; each move was one of elegant strategy, beautifully executed and perfectly finished. Every damned line of her was impeccable.  And yet her face was impassive, like none of the partners that had scrawled their name on her dance card were up to her standards. The music died, the dance ended, and as she slipped from the embrace of the blonde-haired human, Cassian watched as mortal men pawed at her as she passed them, their hands extended, trying to grasp her by the arm, to catch her like she was a creature to be tamed.  Something primal, some base instinct buried deep inside him, strained when Nesta suddenly stopped moving across that dance floor— some fundamental fae instinct turning wild as some reed-thin mortal grasped her upper arm, bringing her to a halt as his fingers dug into her flesh.  And all Cassian could think was, I think the fuck not.