#—and the twins dying was one of the first things that came to mind. it would be very fucking sad and tragic and definitely wreck Solar a bi

[h-didanart]

Hey, do you guys remember that agony//ghost thing the FNaF lore has? Yeah? Cool

Do you guys know any of the synonyms to agony there are? Like, suffering, torment, throes, and the like? Yeah? Cool

Are you guys familiar with my Quiet Throes au//fic thing? Yeah? Cool

Agony ghost Bloodmoon. They torment the hell out of the bastard, and hang around Solar sometimes. But mostly stick around Ruin, staring at him, messing with his things, throwing stuff at him, and generally making his life miserable (as it should be)

Tw for the images below: implied suicide attempt, referenced character death, and implied torture//sa

[folkloreandfable]

Culpa mea

Synopsis: All will pay the price for their follies. Even you. One mistake drove a wedge between you and your betrothed. Now, with a looming war, you must make choices that will alter your life. For better or worse. Pairing: Jacaerys x targtower!reader Warnings: None. A/N: English is not my first language, so please excuse any errors.

ALICENT HIGHTOWER’S FINAL BIRTH was the most excruciating. Hours of pain and sweat-glistened skin until, finally, shrilling screams drowned out her sobs of exhaustion. A set of twins. Boy and a girl. Daeron is the spitting image of dragon blood, silver hair, and amethyst eyes. You, however, had dark hair with tinges of red and deep dark eyes that turned to the colour of a dying ember when caught in light. 

You were unlike any of your siblings. You lacked the inherent cruelty seeded in Aemond and Aegon, but possessed the spiritedness lacking in Helaena. Growing up, you were aware of the games and power struggles that were woven into the undercurrents of your family, yet remained ambivalent. When your mother warned you about not getting too close to Rhaenyra’s ‘bastard’ children, you paid no mind. Not like you had any idea what it meant, either. You happily went out to play with them, anyway. Until the incident, at least.

Aemond got into a fight with Luke, which lost him an eye. You were furious. Your brother lost his eye, yet your father did nothing. No one punished Lucerys. Instead, your father declared you betrothed to Jacaerys while you seethed at them behind your mother’s skirts. That night, he came to you; you demanded he and his brother apologise to Aemond but Jacaerys argued Aemond was in the wrong. The quarrel ended in no resolution and you saying “Mother was right, we should have never associated with bastards!” 

Which you came to regret. You stayed up all night, tossing and turning, thinking of how you would apologise to Jacaerys when you see him again. Come morning, your mother declared you are to be sent away to Old Town with Daeron. She would not have her blood sullied by a bastard and your grandfather came up with the idea to send you away until they could find a proper ‘fix’. Though Alicent and Otto promised Viserys that they’d call you back when you are of marriageable age.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Six years later,

YOUR GRANDSIRE has yet to convince your father to break off your engagement to Jacaerys and find a more ‘suitable’ match. According to your father, there is no more suitable a match than the heir to the Iron Throne. When the Viserys fell ill, your mother reluctantly calls you back at his behest. You arrive post-haste on the back of Silverwing, donning Hightower Green and a pendant of the seven. You saw something flicker in your mother’s eyes when she received you, but it dissipates as quickly.

Your sister arrived with her uncle husband and their brood. Soon you’re at the grand hall, standing with your mother and siblings, in opposition to your eldest sister and her children. There were two more since you last saw them. Jace had grown up to be quite handsome as well. He’d make a fine King, even more so once starts slouching less. You eagerly await until you finally his gaze and offer a small smile, but he looks away. It was like a knife piercing your heart. You have not left on the best of terms, yet a part of you hoped that there was room for reconciliation. You sent him letters, profusely apologising for your words and offering amendments. Yet all went unanswered. It wore on you that things might never go back to the way it was. And part of it was your fault. In your rumination, you almost did not react when Daemon cut Vaemond’s head off. But that was the conclusion of a strenuous ordeal. Alas, the worst was still to come.

Supper was a tense affair. Your father decided to play pretend a happy family for one night and who could deny him? You often forgot that Viserys Targaryen was your father. That fire ran through your veins. Perhaps it was for the best. Perhaps forgetting you were a Targaryen meant that envy and resentment wouldn’t consume you as they consumed your brothers. But their anger was misplaced. But it was also seeded by your grandfather. You may have been away, but you were not ignorant of what was at play here. The distance may have given you more clarity in your judgement.

You were sat opposite Jacaerys who avoided your gaze at all costs, finding the uncomfortable toasts far more interesting before giving one himself. Though you revelled in Aegon’s uncomfortable expression when Helaena made her toast, andit turned indignant once Jacaerys invited her to dance. The table settled into a somewhat comfortable atmosphere, and you took a few sips of wine as a personal celebration of that achievement. Though you should have known better when Aemond suddenly stood to give his toast. 

“Come, let us drain our cups to these three��strong men.”

Your heart sank into your stomach when he finished his sentence. It was a good thing that your father was taken to his chambers a while ago. The grip on your goblet tightens as a fight ensues and the weakly woven tapestry of a loving family completely unravels. You all get sent to bed by Daemon and on your way out, you distantly hear about them leaving for Dragonstone.

As the night got eaten away by daylight, you awaken to the sounds of bells and panic as a heavy dread settles within you. And your instinct did not betray you. Your father was dead and Aegon would be king.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

YOU PACE RESTLESSLY, stone clacking underfoot and fire crackling in the hearth. Nothing felt right. And it wasn’t just Aegon being missing. Why would your father, who unwaveringly insisted Rhaenyra was his heir, change his mind regarding something so detrimental and only express it in his dying breath with no other witnesses? You did not have the highest opinion of King Viserys, but knew he had the wisdom to know better. You paused in your steps, casting a side-long glance at your mother, who sat at the table with steepled fingers and a contemplative look with no show of guilt. So either your father truly had a change of heart on his deathbed or something else was at play here. Though your mother was clever, much of her cunning came from Otto's influence. She would never have been capable of lying about something like this. At least, not without it surfacing in her countenance.

“Your grace,” Ser Cole’s voice pulled you both out of your stupor as he stepped aside to reveal Aegon at the doorway. They found him, and you do not know what to feel except the lead-like weight settling on your chest. You were not one to believe in bad omens. It was but a creation of the cynical human mind that was incapable of believing in anything good. But you weren’t so sure anymore.

The coronation was arranged swiftly with all of King’s Landing gathered in the Sept to watch the crowing of a new dragon. You almost pitied Aegon seeing his downtrodden stance as he walked down the aisle. But you also knew Aegon. Once he tasted power, this will all become a happy memory. Your mother greeted him with a small kiss on the forehead before handing him over to your grandfather. You press your lips in a thin line and let your gaze wander to the crowd. Somany faces, all of whose fate lives in the House of The Dragon. No matter who wins the game, they lose. As the Septon recited prayers, you noticed a hooded figure in the crowd who reeked of suspicion, but your attention was pulled back to Aegon before you could follow it. 

The conqueror’s crown now rested upon your brother. Aegon the Second, lord of the Seven Kingdoms. His eyes swept those at the altar as they lowered their heads, one by one. And with each one, you could see unearned pride seeping into his bones. You, too, lowered your head when the time came.

A slow smile formed on his lips as he turned to the crowds with arms wide open and they erupted into cheers. He revelled in it. 

*SCREECH*

A sudden shrill permeated the halls, along with a cloud of smoke, and the cheers turned to screams of terror. You held on to Helaena, cowering as you whispered prayers for protection. Smallfolk pushed and shoved against one another, eager to escape the monster revealed to be Meleys as the dust settled.

“OPEN THE GATES!” Your grandfather’s voice bellowed through the halls, your mother rushing to Aegon whose bravado dissipated like the heat of a burning ember submerged in water.

You slowly lift your head to see Rhaenys looking down proudly from her steed.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

YOU WERE THE USURPERS there was no doubt in your mind left. You had your suspicions, but Rhaenys siding with Rhaenyra cemented it. Truthfully, you should do nothing. You had all to lose and nothing to gain. But you had this pesky honour and integrity that does not allow inaction. Your mind wandered to Jacaerys. He was sure to believe you were involved in this betrayal, and with your father gone, there was no reason for your betrothal to continue. You swallowed hard, feeling a knot forming in your chest. All your hopes threaten to shatter into smithereens.

Before you could ruminate further, your door opened with a creak, followed by the urgent footsteps of your mother.

“Is all well, mother?” You ask, propping yourself back up against the pillows as you take in Alicent’s tense shoulders and fidgety hands. She gives you a small nod before taking a sit next to you. Dipping the mattress ever so slightly.

“I thought we should talk.”

“Well, it must be a rather disconcerting discussion to agitate you so,” you offer an easy smile.

Alicent tried to return the gesture. Instead, she reached forward to grasp your hand. “Your grandfather and I have been discussing your future. Now that Rhaenyra believes us to be usurpers to the throne, there is really no hope of reconciliation, as your father hoped.”

You feel your heart begin racing at your mother's words. The lead dug deeper into your chest, but you gestured for her to continue.

“So we’ve arranged for you to be wed to Aemond.” And the pendulum drops. You don’t stop the tears prickling your eyes, but you try to keep your voice steady.

“But Rhaenyra has yet to make an indication she wishes to dissolve the arrangement. If she believes us to be traitors, then usurping her son’s betrothed after his throne would be the greatest offence–”

“Enough.” Alicent firmly shuts down and further retorts from you. “You do well to remember your place, daughter. And your place is next to a man of good breeding, like your brothers. Not some lowly bastard.” She spat out the last bit like spoilt wine.

“But–“

“Not. A. Word.” She squeezed your hands tight for emphasis before standing back up as if nothing happened. “Aemond is at Storm’s end, and we will announce your betrothal once he returns.” With that finality, she left, leaving only the echoes of her fading footsteps.

Alone once more, you allow the sobs bubbling in your throat to be free. This can not be happening. As much as you skirted around your feelings for Jace, there was no point in hiding from them. You loved him. Yes, it waxed and waned over the years but never diminished. The walls were closing in. Like an encased tomb of a prisoner whose only salvation lay in suffocation. A passive victim of fate. No. You needed to move. You could go back to Old Town, but it would only be a temporary respite before Alicent ordered you to be brought back by your uncle.

There was only one path for you left. It was uncertain and dangerous. But you would not rest until you saw Jacaerys, and he assured you that you were truly alone in the world.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

JACAERYS VELARYON always knew deep down that he was a bastard. The words uttered under hushed whispers and his utter lack of resemblance to Laenor Velaryon. He always suppressed those insecurities. He and his brothers were loved by their parents. All three of them. And received acceptance from their grandfathers. What were the words of a few lowborns to the words of a king? But he never understood that words could leave welts like lashes until they came from the tongue of the one he loved in secrecy. 

We should have never associated with bastards. 

The immediate regret in her eyes was a balm of sorts but the damage was done anyway. So he left. Part of him believed that they were out of anger and not from the heart. But she said it anyway. Even so, he was ready to forgive and forget it all with one word of apology. The messengers came and went but with none for him. Still, he perhaps deluded himselfinto believing she would be different despite Alicent’s influence.

He thought wrong.

“Are you sure of it?” Rhaenyra asked Master Gerardys once more.

“Yes, my queen, it is said that Queen Alicent’s younger daughter wishes to marry her brother Aemond and dissolve the betrothal with the crown prince.”

Jacaerys curled his fingers, nails digging into the flesh of his palm. “And what of it?” He snapped. “The betrothal is of no benefit to us and if she is willing to marry Luke’s killer then it is all  the more good reason to dissolve it!”

The eyes of the entire council landed on him at his sudden outburst but his mother just knowingly smiled. “We have more pressing matters to attend than a supposedly dissolved betrothal, anyway.” The queen smoothly changed subjects, which Jacaerys was grateful for but it never left his mind.

Later in the evening, Jacaerys sat opposite his mother's desk with his cheek on his hand, looking over papers. At least trying to. “It does not befit a prince to pout.” Rhaenyra chided with all but anger in her voice.

“I’m not pouting,” he murmured without a change in his stance.

Rhaenyra sighed, pulling her son’s hands into her own. “You truly did not believe that–“

“I do not wish to speak of it,” Jace swiftly interrupted.

“Very well,” she let go of his hands with a small squeeze. “But I wish to speak of my sister and I know she would never betray you like that. However the greens are, my sisters have not a cruel bone in their body.

“You know what she said to me–”

“I know, but that was years ago and her brother lost his eye. But I also saw the way she looked at you when we were in King’s Landing.”

Jace stiffened, swallowing the dryness in his throat, suddenly finding the woodgrains very interesting. “Really? I haven’t noticed.”

Rhaenyra only smiled and reached over to cup his jaw. “I want you to be happy, do not let petty misunderstandings and political games take it away.” Jace looked away again, focusing on his lap instead as his mother pressed a small kiss on his hairline. 

There was always the possibility of a carefully crafted misunderstanding between him and you, but he never allowed himself to fully consider it. To do so would risk hope—hope that would only lead to his heart being shattered into dust again. So he chose to assume the worst, that you were just like your family, complicit in all their schemes. 

Their moment would be soon interrupted by the heavy footsteps of Ser Erryk, who spoke with great urgency. “Your grace, we’ve spotted a dragon not our own heading for the castle.”

Rhaenyra shot up, her expression hardening as she rushed toward the terrace, Jace following with his sword half-drawn. Her eyes narrowed as she scanned the sky, searching for the creature soaring among the clouds. It was far too small to be Vhagar. “Stand down!” she barked, her voice sharp and commanding. The dragon drew closer, its form almost camouflaged by the grey skies, its dark silhouette flickering through the mist like a phantom. 

Jacaery’s hand dropped from the hilt of his sword in astonishment.

“It’s Silverwing…”

─── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

You land Silverwing on the shores of Dragonstone and feel anxiety reel its ugly head again. You have no idea how you will be received on your arrival. Especially after the stunt Aemond pulled. Putting it mildly. You were not close with your half-sister, but she always treated you kindly in your minimal interactions. However, you would not blame her for anyhostility or suspicion toward you. She has every reason to distrust you.

Even so, you steel yourself, disembarking from Silverwing and tightening your grip on your skirts. In hindsight, wearing green was probably not the wisest choice either. But it wouldn’t be the first foolish decision you’ve made on this journey. You keep your gaze so low as you ascend the steps to the castle that you almost miss the woman standing on the landing, her presence sharp and unmistakable.

“Y–your grace,” you stammer, stumbling back a step to avoid colliding with Rhaenyra. She doesn’t move, only watches you with a gleam of curiosity in her eyes, the corners of her lips hinting at amusement. “I—”

"You’ve come a long way," she said, her words slicing through yours with practised ease. "We shall speak more on the eve." With that, she vanished inside—or so you assume, because everything blurred when you were met by a pair of smouldering brown eyes glaring from just behind her.

“Jacaerys.” ─── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ─── Note: This is definitely part 1 of 2. Thank you so much for reading <3 Inbox: Open

[theirnamesarekiklo]

Cold

Tired and damp, the sweet sweet girl could only hold herself

pairing: !Twin Sister! Reader x Sully Family

a/n: this is kinda like at the end of the movies where the whole battle takes place also this was not corrected at all I literally js pulled this out of my ass 😭 (LITERALLY THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE LIKES I CANT BELIEVE THIS)

TRIGGER WARNINGS: a lil talk abt suicide, very faint injury desc

⋆★⋆★⋆

Deep pants all around, the only thing on their mind was that they were safe and together. But something deep and churning kept place in Lo’ak’s stomach.

The most common thing between twins in Na’vi culture was that they were more connected than most. They had this special bond that most siblings didn’t obtain. Ever since Lo’ak and his twin sister had been born under the same light, they could feel one-another. They felt each other’s losses, wins, and they especially felt eachother’s heart. So imagine how his heart dropped as soon as he felt alone.

So utterly alone and cold, he felt.

“Dad, where’s y/n?” and everyone’s breath hitched.

— ⋆⋆ —

Gasping for air, she had managed to drag herself on the rough rock, but she couldn’t care less now that she had bigger wounds to tend to. Wheezing out raspy breaths, her shaking hand rested softly on the edge of the blade, the same blade that had pierced her heart. The wound was the biggest one there, despite the bullet hole lodged into her skin.

She wasn’t sure how she felt exactly. Her legs were numb, one of them clearly in no condition to walk with, her face had been covered in dried gore that not even the water could wash off, and her arms were covered in several deep gashes, bruises, and burns. Swallowing the rising blood, she took one more deep breath before her hand gripped the knife, obviously not being enough as the removal was simply worse than the actual wound.

The gruesome scene was surely something, and she was sure that the other guy (who she hadn’t bothered to even learn the name of) had looked worse when she was done with him, but that didn’t stop her from meeting the same fate as he did.

Letting out a scream that truly screamed bloody murder, the girl could only sob and heave and clutch her torn skin that she was sure would get infected if she had even managed to get out of here. What would take her first? Dying of blood loss or dying of infection? Taking a peek at the sky, Her vision was already clouding over. Wincing as she tried getting just a tad bit comfortable on the rock, blood started pooling at the edges of her lips.

Was her older brother okay? She was sure the bullet only grazed him, she took the bullet for him before getting dragged back by the same guy she killed. Most importantly, was her twin brother okay? Was he breathing better than her? Did he carry the same feeling she did at this moment? At this moment, she could recall all the sweet memories she and him shared. They were born together, and she sure was hell glad they didn’t leave the same way, although she wished more than anything that they were right there with her.

Choking out a sob, the girl felt a chill of acceptance run through her. She wouldn’t make it out of this. Even though she was still young and hadn’t completed her Rite of Passage, she knew she was going to die. Curling up into a ball, she felt cold and as if all the thoughts in her head were simply vanishing, the only thing repeating itself were comforting nothings. Clutching at her chest, her slightly parted lips were releasing slow, tiny gasps. Taking one more look at the looming eclipse, she choked back a cry and whispered one last promise to ewya, leaving the world the same way she came into it.

— ⋆⋆ —

“No No No Y/N!”

As the wailing begun, Jake couldn’t help but want to simply shoot himself in the head right now.

Taking one look at her daughter once more, he turned around and crouched down. Taking some shaky gulps of air, he felt as if his world was suddenly closing in on himself. He’s been through this before, only he wasn’t experiencing it directly. Turning his head to take a look at Lo’ak, his heart broke into a million pieces right then and there.

Bringing her hand to his heart, his hands were already covered in her drying blood, trying to gain that silly warmth that everyone felt cover them if they had ever been around her. Whimpering tiny delusions to himself, he couldn’t help but wonder if this was some sick joke or some type of revenge for all the wrong doings he’s caused in his life. Meeting the eyes of his father, he could tell this was taking somewhat of the same toll on him too.

Trying to let out a few words, only a squeak could be heard before he ran his hand over his face and his his face away from the rest of the grieving children. He had let her die cold and alone.

He had let the sweetest person he had possibly ever met, the one who could do no bad, die stuck in her head and fighting. He wasn’t there to comfort her, caress her face as a distraction from the pain, nothing. If only he had been there sooner, if only he hadn’t betrayed Miles, if only he decided to follow the rules. His babygirl was gone, and the only thing he could do was cower and cry into his hand.

Kiri, who was simply sobbing to herself, truly not even there at the moment, held spider’s hand so tight that he was sure she would break it, but he wasn’t paying attention to that as he shed a wave of tears himself. She was one of the first people to truly accept him into their family and made him feel as if he belonged. Tuk, that poor child, tried laying her head on her older sister’s chest, trying to find a heartbeat, something, to prove that she wasnt really gone forever.

Neytiri, at this point blubbering thing to herself, only calmed down as she took in the peaceful expression on her daughter’s features. She had always been calm, but sometimes the way shadows hit her face showed nothing but a mask. Her eyebrows were always a little tense, but now they rested easily. Her baby, My baby, she thought, was gone. Bringing her face closer to hers, she laid her other hand right onto her cheek. They’ve held each-other like this many times, and to believe that this would be the last was a punch to the gut.

Tsireya, who was weeping right next to Lo’ak, couldn’t help but remember how sweet she was. She had a heart for many, even her brother, who had gone to extreme measures to simply make sure that they hadn’t felt welcome. She recalled the funny and heartwarming, sometimes sad memories that her twin had shared with her, and that only brought more tears to her eyes.

— ⋆⋆ —

The clan was silent.

Both y/n’s ilu and ikran had gone wild, suddenly scurrying off but not without a tiny fight with a few of the men, trying to keep them stable.

Ao’nung, who had seen the whole thing go down, was sure of his reason as to why these things were happening, but he didn’t want to believe himself. He was cruel, desperate to relive himself of these feelings he felt around the doe-eyed girl. Now, as he stood there, rigid and hardly breathing, let out a gasp as he could see a group in the distance.

As people started whispering, they were cut short as his mother let out a tiny noise at the sight of them. Peeking around a shoulder, he felt his heart drop down to his stomach. She was there, only not in the condition he hoped and prayed for. She was limp, pale, and completely rid of life as her father carried her in his arms, obviously not ready to accept the fact that she was dead.

Huffing out a “no”, he ran off, shoving people out of his way as his parents focused more on the sobbing daughter that was shown possibly the first heartbreak she had ever experienced. Her oldest brother didn’t know. How would he possibly react to the news that the girl he promised to protect since the moment she was born, was gone?

—…

[corazondebeskar-reads]

of rage and ruin - chapter eight

chapter eight

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

werewolf!alpha!Joel Miller x f!omega!reader

word count: 4.1k

summary: joel's lies and the creeping winter breed discontent as the raiders wait to find out the fate of the man you bit.

chapter warnings: dark, dead dove do not eat, a/b/o, alpha/omega dynamics, omegaverse, captivity, canon-typical violence, genre-typical violence, horror themes, graphic violence, abuse by captors (not by either joel or reader), body horror, viewer discretion is advised, mention of attempted sexual assault (NOT by joel, very unsuccessful), oral, p in v, discussion of dub-con and I guess mind-control?

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Tommy Miller wasn’t a man of faith. Never really had been, and especially not now, not after the things he’d seen. Couldn’t fathom the thought of any god who’d let the world go to hell, who’d let his niece die in her father’s arms before she even really got to live. 

He doesn’t believe in much, never has, but he’d put all his faith in Joel. Always had. His first steps were toward Joel. His first word was his name. All his life, he’d followed his brother, even as they fell darker and darker into the end of the world. Even as Joel went down a road he thought he’d never have to follow. 

It was all for Tommy, anyway. He couldn’t turn away from the monster Joel became when it was all to keep Tommy alive. So when Joel turned into a literal monster, straight outta the movies they’d stayed up far too late to watch when Tommy was far too little? 

That was nothin’. A no-brainer. Joel was Joel. You don’t turn your back on your brother, even if he turns all hairy and slobbery and weird. 

So if there had been anyone left in the world who knew them, who had seen the Miller brothers grow, they’d have said it was no surprise that the little one refused to give up when things seemed hopeless. 

Inseparable, they’d say. 

After Joel went missing, one year turned into two, and Tommy Miller never gave up on his brother. 

“Maybe he doesn’t want to be found,” Laura said one night over rabbit stew. 

“Nah,” Tommy said, blowing on a spoonful before feeding it to her littlest one — DJ, after her brother, the dead beta — “He wouldn’t have done that to me. If he’s out there, he’s in trouble.”

Laura looked skeptical, but Tess nodded from the other end of the table, wagging her spoon in their direction.

“He’s right. That cranky old bastard mighta given anyone else the slip, but not Tommy.” Tess always sat at the far end, keeping distance between herself and the rambunctious children with razor-sharp teeth. 

“I’m not interested in runnin’ around buck naked, howlin’ at the moon, or dying from a toddler bite,” she’d said. But it didn’t stop her from showing up every new moon for dinner. 

Not more than that, though. She couldn’t bear to see the hope living in Tommy’s heart any more than he could bear to see the pity in her eyes. They all thought Joel was dead. All but Tommy.

“If you’d just turn me,” he tries.

Laura rolls her eyes. “You know it’s not that simple. My bite probably couldn't even turn you. Chances are you’d just... die.” 

“If he dies, I get to shoot her,” Mike says to Cheryl. He’s the other half of the Idiot Twins, you’ve learned. Mike and Randall. Randall’s the one kicking around all pissy in your old cell with the crescent of your teeth debossed in his skin. 

Mike’s the one bitching up and down the hall, shotgun on his shoulder.

Cheryl doesn’t give a shit. She’s only interested in what might happen if Randall doesn’t kick the bucket. 

“The hell you do,” she sneers. “She’s worth too much. Now shut it.”

You’re in the corner on the mattress, Joel’s furry body between you and the door. His hackles haven’t settled, and neither has the tense line of his shoulders. You haven’t spoken since Cheryl came down to watch, but Joel’s kept his eyes on the shotgun the entire time.

You don’t need to talk to know he’s thinking about putting himself between you and a bullet. Your hand finds its way to the thick fur on his neck, weaving gently between tufts. 

It’s not as comforting as it was. 

And oh, he can tell. It hurts. It took him less than a day after your heat ended to start to lose you, and the worst part is that he doesn’t know if he even wants to do what he’d have to, to admit to you that even though he’d never, that he could. He could make you do anything he commanded. 

You’ve been right all this time. Being an omega ain’t fair. He has all the power, and you have all the vulnerability, exposed to him like a wound. Like the one he’s left on your shoulder.

So he’s gotta be the shield, too. The bandage. He’s gonna be the barrier between you and everything that threatens to infect you. Even himself.

Especially himself. 

After the third day passes, the only infection Randall’s gotten from you was the festering bite mark. And really, that wasn’t even from you; that was from locking him in that nasty room with an open wound. That’s kind of on them.

He goes upstairs with Cheryl and never comes back. It’s not just Joel from whom they don’t tolerate disobedience.

Mike sulks but doesn’t try to retaliate. He must be too chicken-shit after seeing what happened to his buddy. They still make him deliver food, but he’s got a new partner now, who doesn’t seem too fond of him. Meal drop-off is a no-nonsense silent affair now, which suits you just fine. 

The difference between you and them has never been clearer. Not just in that you’re the captives, and they’re your captors. Not just in the sickening way they decide if you lived or died.

No. You’re finally seeing it. What they’ve seen all along—the difference between human and something undeniably more.

It’s stark, now. You’re not sure if something changed about you, physically, after your heat, or if it just laid clear the things that changed with the shot. But you can’t pretend anymore, either way. You’re not human. You’re not like them. You never were, really, but now it’s in your goddamn genetic code.

The man wrapped around you is even less of a man, but you think you’re starting to catch up.

He stays resolutely the wolf, but you don’t mind. You haven’t felt much like talking lately, anyway. You’ve gone quiet. It’d be unsettling if you hadn’t sunken to his level of grunts and huffs and whines. 

Why talk when he can’t talk back? Why talk when you already know what he’s saying? When he can understand you better now than ever before?

There’s no need for a charade between you. You’re beasts together. The bite you shared is more of a bridge between you than a bond, but that’s okay. 

Neither one of you were looking to be tied together, anyway. 

The strange, serene silence lasts until the new moon. He doesn’t have much choice, and you’re feeling it, too. The fatigue. The wariness. The loss of security. With the light of the moon in absentia, you’re left undone.

So you put each other back together.

You wake to his hairy face, but it’s human hairy. His coarse salt-and-pepper beard. His morose hazel eyes. 

“Look—” he starts, voice extra gruff from neglect, but you find you’re uninterested in his excuses. 

You kiss him instead, craning your neck to reach his chapped lips, a hand cupping that handsome beard. 

One of his huge hands goes to your waist immediately as he clings to your subject change with relief. 

There’s no trace of heat, now, nor rut. Just you. Just him. His hand, calloused and hot, leaves a trail across your bare skin, achingly gentle. 

You let yourself be coddled, this once. Let him treat you like something precious. Something worth preserving. No claws or fangs, just the warmth of his palm cupping your breast, the heat of his tongue on your nipple. 

A trail of ticklish kisses down your stomach that makes you squirm for more than one reason. When he parts your thighs to make room for himself, it’s as if he’s setting out the fine china. 

Before, he’d always dove in, like seeking the antidote to a snake bite. Eager to gulp down as much of you as fast as he could.

This time, he doesn’t rush. They won’t take him out tonight on the new moon. They’ve given up on making him useful when he's useless. He’s grateful, for once, for his weakness, because it means he can be yours. 

And you? Well. You’re always his. But now he can take his time with you.

His lips brush your thighs, gentle bites with blunt teeth interspersing the worshipful kisses. He presses them to the seam of your cunt, not opening you for him yet, just kissing along your labia and basking in your scent. It’s heady, even when it’s not fragrant with fertility. 

He parts your lips with his tongue. No greedy fingers rend you, just the soft swipe, barely ducking between. He does it, again and again, until he works you wide and waiting. 

A smirk spreads when you gasp at the bump of his nose against your clit, but he doesn’t leave you wanting. He graces it with a tender kiss that leaves you writhing, panting, trying to cant up to meet him. 

He lets you. But he doesn’t let your mewls rush him. He leaves you clit throbbing and drags his attention down to where you weep for him. The noises alone are debauched, echoing in the old shower room, his groans and licks melting into your gasps and cries. 

Your chest aches. It aches with need, with want, yes, but also with a strange sadness. It’s bleeding from him into you. It seems to never leave him, not for a moment, and it drives your hands to his hair, a poor facsimile of the connection you both need and cannot allow yourselves to have. 

It’s enough, though, for now. He’s pleased that he’s pleased you, and doesn’t relent. It’s as much for you as it is for him. He alternates between softly suckling at your clit and licking you clean until he’s drawn two saccharine orgasms from you, leaving you trembling and covered in sweat. 

When he comes back up to meet you, cock resting against your cunt, you take his kiss greedily, and give in. More and more, every moment you’re his, you become wilder. Claimed but not kept. Bound but not burdened. You lick your slick from his beard in a manner more affectionate than arousing. He interrupts, kissing your neck and pushing you down onto the mattress so he can ease his length inside you.

There’s no resistance. You’re soaked and stretched, his thick fingers having reached inside to take his prize from within you. You breathe again once he’s nestled deep within, feeling the pulse and press of him where no man other than him can rightfully claim to have been. 

He rocks his hips, barely pulling out, unwilling to leave the wet heat of you. It’s arduous and delicious, savoring him like this. Feeling the curves and veins of him against your walls, imprinting themselves on you. 

Even now, even fully human, you don’t trouble yourselves with talk. Your ragged breaths fill the room, and he chases your lips for a kiss each time he bottoms out. They’re almost chaste, if only they weren’t so filthy. There’s barely any tongue, and yet, more intense than any you’ve had before. 

You come again as he fills you, spilling deep and letting you both savor the sensation. 

When he pulls out, you shiver. The chill that spreads over you has as much to do with the things left unsaid as it does with the cold basement. You only have the one bra to wear, after all. He tucks the little blanket around you, but it’s a lost cause. 

Neither of you are sure that you want his body heat, with the way things have frosted over after your parting. He waits, eyes closed, until he feels you curl up to him. 

Once you’re tucked into the crook of his arm, his leg slung over you, you finally say it. The two words that have been ricocheting around in your brain since that day.

“You lied,” you whisper to his chest. It stutters as he slips on a breath.

“I did,” he agrees after a long, long moment.

“To me,” you clarify. 

“Yes.”

It’s heavy. It’s loud. Much louder than reality, where it’s whispered, but in your head, it falls with a flat thump.

“You were already scared. I didn’t want to scare ya more,” he says. It doesn’t come out like an excuse. It’s not defensive. It’s just a fact.

Maybe he didn’t mean it as such, but that’s how you take it. You were scared. You were terrified. 

“I don’t care,” you decide. “That’s not how this is gonna work. We’re—we’re stuck together for now whether we like it or not ,and you are not going to decide what I can or can’t handle.” You poke him in the chest with the finger you were inadvertently waggling.

For now? Oh, sweetheart, he thinks, gut aching at your—he suspects—willful naivety. He raises both hands in supplication.

“Alright, darlin’,” he capitulates, gruffer than he means to. 

The way he gives in without a fight but also without an apology stings, but you resolve to lick your wounds later when you’re not itching for a fight. 

“And you better explain. Now. No runnin’.” 

He puts his arms down, and they melt into a slump of a heavy sigh. “I don’ know much. I never do. You ask me all these damn questions when I’ve told you —”

“Stop deflectin’ and fess the fuck up, Joel,” you snap.

He glowers for a moment before sitting up a little to lean against the frigid tile wall. “I suppose…” but he just sighs again.

But you sit up, criss-cross applesauce with the blanket around your lap. And you wait. You’re pretty sure he’ll talk, given his own time to do it. Where your mind never seems to settle, his seems to take a while to boot up. He isn’t stupid by any means; he just needs a minute to organize what he’s trying to explain. 

You’re rewarded for scraping up what was left of your patience when he crosses his arms over his chest. 

“I don’t know much. That ain’t ever gonna change. But this was somethin’ I learned from the widow o’ the man that bit me.”

“Ew, wait, you actually got bitten?” 

He rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah. Look, don’ worry about that. I keep forgettin’ you were one o’ the experiments.”

You gape at him for a moment. “Eugh,” you shudder. “Fuck, I hate that. Experiment. Damn.”

He gives a little ‘well?’ with the splay of his palms to the sky and watches you with eyes of lead. “Look,” he sighs again. 

You imagine a drinking game involving his sigh count would send you to a swift and shallow grave.

“Y’ain’t gonna like it, but it’s true. To some extent, omegas seem to be… more inclined to listen to an alpha if the alpha talks with a certain tone of voice. S’hard to explain.”

“You’ve done it before,” you guess. “Not just to me.”

“No,” he sighs, and in an imaginary alternate universe, you die of liver poisoning, “not just to you.”

And he tells you of the early days with Laura. When the change first started, and he couldn’t sleep, thinkin’ he might hurt somebody. Somebody that didn’t deserve it. 

“And she told me that Peter would drop his voice into this kind of… register, and he would talk her to sleep. Except one night he was tired himself and didn’t have the energy. So all he said to her was ‘go to sleep.’ And she did.”

“That’s… fucking horrible,” you say. “Not their cutesy couple-y stuff. The… Jesus, the implications of that kind of…” 

Suddenly, you look down at the blanket, picking with the jagged tip of your bitten fingernail at where the ancient fleece was pilling. 

“You, um…” but the words get caught in your chest where someone has tightened a belt, cutting off all connection to the rest of your body, leaving it cold. A thousand logical, reasonable thoughts traverse your conflicted brain. You don’t know him. He’s got a darkness to him. He kills on the regular to keep himself alive. You don’t know him.

But you don’t think he’s the type of man to have done something quite like that. And he’s been nothing but gentle with you, really. Too gentle, like he thought the lightest touch of a claw might split you like a plump plum, skin stretching and giving way for him to flay the flesh underneath. 

You’re made of tougher stuff than that. Mostly. Kind of. In a way.

Oh, damnit. 

“What did you use it on me for?” you say instead. 

His teeth grind at what you almost asked. He figures you were afraid to piss him off by asking. Or afraid for him to lie to your face again. He should be insulted that you’d even consider the possibility that he violated you. 

He reminds himself that you don’t know him. He’s bigger than you, stronger. And he’s just told you he can more or less hypnotize you. 

Shit, this is a right hell of a mess.

You both sigh this time, and you’ve already forgotten your imaginary drinking game self’s corpse. You can feel it this time. The weariness. How it soaks into the marrow and flushes everything out. 

“You need to understand,” he starts seriously. His brows are pinched and eyes narrowed, pitching a sturdy fence around his too-fragile self. “I did not do anything…unsavory. And I didn’t even mean to do it to ya in the first place.”

He scrubs a hand over his face again, and it’s ruddy when he pulls away. “It was durin’ your heat, okay? It wasn’t even anything serious; I just told you to listen to me, and you did. And I…” he grunts and looks away.

You think maybe all this time alone made him forget how to say sorry. 

You’re not sure what you’d do with it anyway.   

So instead, you close your eyes and take a deep breath in your nose and out of your mouth. You think vaguely about being nauseous or anxious or infuriated. You indulge in the fantasy of getting truly angry, of letting yourself feel the injustice of it all, the horror.

You entertain thoughts of screams of rage, of violence, of throwing and breaking and banging your fists against the wall, of wrapping your hands around Jim’s throat, of driving yourself mad and bloody in a frenzy for freedom.

The thoughts hurt as much as they help. You take the rage and prod at it until it hides back behind your ribs where it belongs. 

He leans forward, now, elbows on his knees. It’s hard not to be distracted by his dick, but also, you always feel guilty when you ogle it. It’s not his fault he’s been denied of any privacy or dignity. And plus, you’ve been walking around, pussy out, since your heat.

Thinking about that too much makes you sick. 

He sighs again but you feel like maybe this one cost him something more. He sits up straight and puts his hands on your shoulders. “I can’t promise it won’t happen by accident,” he says solemnly.

You chew on it for a while, climbing into his lap and pulling the blanket over yours. He’s trying, and you’re having a hard time staying mad, especially when he’s warm and comfortable.

His arms loop loosely around you, unconsciously rubbing his thumbs against your bare skin. It’s soothing, but you suspect it’s even more soothing for him. 

Your head finds its place in the crook of his shoulder, and it’s your turn again to sigh. “You think maybe I could learn to resist it?” 

He startles a little, looking down at you incredulously. No, looking down at you like you’re something incredible. That’s worse, maybe, because it makes you squirm away from his (albeit minimal) idolatry. 

“Maybe. I don’t know enough about it. But would you even want to try? It would mean me havin’ to…”

“I dunno,” you admit. “Might be worth it. I’ll… I’m gonna think about it.”

He takes what he can take and presses a kiss to the top of your head, a compulsion that’s rapidly becoming habitual. 

Not that either of you are complaining. 

When you think of it again later, in the dead of night, Joel sawing lumber while half-sprawled on the floor, it settles like cement in your lungs. 

He settles like cement in your lungs. Something neither your mind nor body can ignore. And maybe it’s the bond, but you know there’s no chipping him out of there. Not completely. This strange man, who isn’t so strange these days, has instead become something of a warm knit cardigan or a rail on a slippery stair. 

Maybe you don’t need him.

Maybe you’d get by without him.

But, well. You’re better off with him than without. 

Time in your little cell passes all at once and not at all. Winter creeps in, and the basement becomes nearly unbearably cold. You watch jealously as Joel retreats to his built-in jacket, and as much as he tries to be your personal furnace, it only goes so far.

And the full moon comes, and brings a blizzard with it. 

You think maybe they won’t go out, but Jim’s got a particular target in mind nearby that he demands retribution from. And no silly snowstorm is going to stop him.

They take him from you at nightfall, and he watches you shiver as he leaves.

It must be Christmas, because he comes back with a gift.

You honest to god gasp when he shows you his prize. “Thanks, Santa!” you tease, and he rolls his eyes.

“Arms up,” he says, and you let him have this. You think the wolf must be going out of his mind with possessiveness, and you’re right because he can barely stay only partially transformed. He struggles not to give in to the change, fighting his own instincts and the moon just so he can talk to you.

You don’t say it, but that almost means more than the gift.

You close your eyes as he tugs the ratty sweater over you, either oversized or from a very large man. It fits like a dress, though a very short one. But it means your ass isn’t hanging out, and you’ve got another layer between your poor freezing tits and the breeze that whispers through the rotting grout. 

“Joel, how—”

But he cuts you off. “Don’t ask me, darlin’. You don’t wanna know.” He’s a little tender but a little sharp, too.

“But where—“

“I said don’t ask me that,” he snarls. “Do not fucking ask me that.” He sees the look on your face and softens. “Please.” It’s a whisper, and oh, it hurts. 

You don’t have to ask. You know, now. What it cost him. What it cost someone else. “Thank you, alpha,” you murmur. It has the usual effect, his eyes shining a little brighter as you play with the wolf and let the man be. 

He pulls you against his chest and rubs his chin on the top of your head, soothing the unease in his sternum. “It fucking stinks, though. Gonna have to figure somethin’ out.”

You wrinkle your nose. “It’s not bad.”

“It’s not me,” he grunts, and you take the cue to shut up. 

“Atta girl,” he murmurs after a few minutes of silence. “Looks real nice,” he adds and preens when the compliment sends you shyly snuffling your face into his chest. 

You let him hold you there as he scents you, bafflingly large palms smoothing over your neck and rubbing your arms. His musk envelopes you as much as his broad body does, and you keep your cheek pressed against the soft quilt of hair across his chest. When he’s mostly wolf like this, he’s practically covered in it. His soft, strong arms are dark with it; his chest is buried beneath it; it even trails across the plush pouch of his stomach. 

When he’s done proverbially bathing you in him, he steps back, cheeks ruddy and dark eyes anywhere but you. He clears his throat but says nothing. 

You observe him, this forsaken beast of a man. This creature from children’s nightmares, this creature who definitely just gave adults nightmares, but who would put himself between you and your own. 

You close the gap between you, your hand on his chest, another finding its way to his cheek. His eyes stutter and fall closed, only the tiniest sigh escaping him now. A shuddering thing full of far too much for one man, whether he’s actually a man or a beast. 

“Thank you, Joel,” you whisper, as if you could ease his aches with your gratitude. As if you could take on some of his pain for your own. 

He kisses you like he knows you’d try.

[drexee]

And finally, Mikey!!!

Bayverse!Mikey x gn!Reader

Warnings: fluff, spelling maybe?

Raph | Leo | Donnie

Mikey Sleep HCs

Michelangelo used to have a twin bed, actually! It really didn’t bother him! He would just face plant into the mattress and knock out

fun fact: that was the same bed he’d had since he was little! Yes, the bunk.

But it wasn’t until you came along that he thought maaaaaybe he should get a bigger bed😭

He’s rolled off the side one too many times when you slept in the same bed together 🥲

Now he has a queen sized bed! Very plush, you sink right in

He has a comfortable and large blanket, it’s tattered at the edges but, “It’s well loved! It adds character ;)”

Mikey has a LOT of pillows on his bed. And one (1) body pillow he did not nab from Donnie’s room

Also has clothes on his bed, clothes he’s been meaning to fold and put away, but he just… never got around to it

Honestly, when you first walked in, you didn’t even know he had a bed

But it’s there, trust

He’ll knock some off and boom! A bed!

He. Snores. LOUD.

like, hONK shooo HOONNK mimimimi 😪

If it weren’t for those thick cement walls, you’d be able to hear him clear across the lair!

But it mellows out the deeper he goes into sleep

Now, about the sleeping positions

He has no favorite!

if you’re in bed with him, he’s happy 🥹

Sometimes Michelangelo will have you wrapped up in his arms, other times he’ll be laying on his back (propped with a few pillows) and have you up against his side

It depends on how he’s feeling that night

But you always wake up with at least one of his limbs draped over you

If it’s been a long day, he’ll lay his head on your chest and listen to your heart beat

It gives him a chance to rest his eyes and his very busy brain for a bit, allowing himself to just focus on you and clear out everything else

Your fingers would draw lazy circles on the back of his head, and across his neck, over his carapace, down his shoulders and lightly scratch his jaw

Maybe even kiss his forehead too?

He’s Swooning, oh my god

He loves it

Mikey will be chirping and churring so much he’s practically vibrating

He’d also be drawing pictures with his hands over your skin, tracing your shape and committing it to his memory

He’d see the goosebumps that follow his fingers and he would go back and trace over them, slower

Mikey loves loves LOVES your voice, so he’ll ask you to talk to him while he’s cuddled up with you

Pillow talk is a big thing for him, from various topics to deep conversations to cracked out stories that have you both gasping and dying with laughter

And honestly the raw emotions that come out in the dead of night? When it’s just you and him bundled up together sharing every random thought that comes to mind until one of you drifts to sleep?

That’s what he lives for

It’s intimate in a way that nothing else could ever replicate

In the mornings, he will lay onto top of you

Like, he will CRUSH you. Lovingly. 😌

He wants to be close to you!! And soak up all your sunshine!!!

and he’s not above peppering every inch of you with as many kisses as he can

You have to literally shove him off of you to get him to stop😭

Even then, Mikey will grab your arm (or whatever you used you get him away) and start kissing that

And once you’re properly awake, he’ll have you two head over to the kitchen to have some breakfast together

Voila!! That’s all four! Sorry these took a bit! I have like, a full time job and I’m in school, and honestly only get these ideas when I’m right about to fall asleep 😭

Anyways! Hope you enjoyed! Til next time!

[unemployedhockeyfan]

Not All Breakups Are Equal

Summary: Lando and Eloise, two best friends. They'd been there for one another for as long as they could remember. But, just a few short weeks change everything.

Warnings: angst I guess

Notes: Hi! This is a first for me, so please share your feedback!! Let me know if you want a part 2!!

[1.4k]

This was not how it was supposed to end. 

We were supposed to be friends until our dying breaths. If I let my true imagination wander, it wouldn’t have ended just like that either. If I was honest with myself early on, he would have been the man I saw as I walked down the aisle. 

But here we are in his way-too expensive Monaco apartment. 

“Eloise, I don’t understand why you are so pressed about this,” Lando shouted in my direction. 

The issue was nearly nonexistent three weeks ago. Lando, my best friend, had been seeing a new girl. I had tried my best to try and get to know her — it is what I always did when a new woman entered his life. 

The key is that I tried. She didn’t want any part in being my friend. Only a few days after I had met the new fling, I found out what she had to say about me. 

None of it was good. Honestly, most of it was vile. She’s so fake. She’s just jealous because he will never look at her like that. He just pities her. I’ll make him forget her name. 

As my mind continues to be clouded by what my best friend’s new girlfriend thinks of me, I’m thrust back into reality. Lando and I are shouting at each other — something we never used to do. Really, this may be the first time it’s ever happened. 

Max, a mutual friend to both of us, is sitting awkwardly on the couch. He clearly wishes he was anywhere but this apartment. I can only imagine what Lando’s neighbors are thinking at this moment. 

“How could I not care, Lando?” I yelled back.

“She was joking,” Lando responded. 

This wasn’t a joke. A joke is between friends. A joke isn't supposed to leave you crying on the bathroom floor. 

A joke isn’t supposed to end a friendship. 

“She was not joking, Lando. She was serious. If you cannot support me, if you cannot tell her that it’s not OK to talk about me like that, I’m not sure we can be friends anymore.” 

I can’t believe those words just came out of my mouth, and by the look on Lando’s face, I don’t think he can either. 

“Eloise,” Lando said before he paused to take in my emotions. 

I felt the tears rolling down my face. I hadn’t even realized the tears had started to come. But how could they not? A 15-year friendship was only a few words away from ending. As I had made the proclamation, I glanced to my side and saw Max’s mouth agape. 

The three of us — the three musketeers — had been side-by-side-by-side for as long as I could remember. My twin brother had grown up karting with them, and while Lando and Max were friends with Rory, there was something about the three of us that clicked more. 

I watched from the sides as they grew up and chased their dreams and I watched as Lando made his Formula 1 debut. 

Along the way, I had apparently caught feelings for the British driver, too, but I’d never openly admit that. 

Max suspected it, though. 

“You can’t seriously be thinking about ending our friendship over this?”

“I don’t know, Lando. I think we’ll always be friends, but I can’t be an active participant in your life if she is too. I need to protect my own mental health.” 

Lando’s eyes were beginning to be rimmed with tears. 

I cannot believe I’m the person who’s making him cry. When he and Louisa went through their breakup and I saw how sad he was, I vowed that I would never be the reason for his tears. 

But, here we are and I’m making him cry. 

The longer I stand here in his kitchen, though, the more I start to think about it not actually being my fault. He’s the one who invited his new girlfriend into his life. She’s the one who said negative things about me. I’m just protecting myself. 

“No, Eloise, you can’t just walk out the door.”

My mind was so cluttered that I didn’t even realize I had taken steps toward his front door — that I had one hand on the doorknob. Here I was, though, a simple hand movement and step away from walking out of Lando Norris’ life. 

“I’m sorry.”

I twisted the handle, opened the door and walked out. 

I was three steps down the hallway when I heard the door slam closed. I paused, part of me hoping I’d hear his voice call out. All I wanted was for him to follow me out into the hallway and fight for me to stay. 

As I stood three feet away from his front door, it was silent. He hadn’t followed me, Lando was still in his apartment — likely gazing down at his kitchen counter with Max equally shocked sitting on the couch. 

It was silent. 

I glanced back at his apartment, willing the front door to open. It never did, so I turned back around and walked toward the elevator. 

This was it. Our friendship was over. No, our friendship was paused. I wouldn’t let it be over, at least not in my head. 

No matter how much it hurt, no matter how much sleep I lost over it, I was going to always tell myself that Lando was going to come back. I didn’t care if it was him coming back to me as a single man or if he entered my life again with the same girlfriend as long as she agreed to be kind to me. 

As I stepped out of the elevator and into the lobby of Lando’s apartment building, I braced myself for the evening chill. Before tucking my arms into my body, I wiped away the tears that seemed neverending at this point. 

Only seconds after stepping outside, I heard my name being called. 

“Eloise! Eloise! Stop, please, Eloise!” 

It wasn’t Lando, though. It was Max being the friend he always is. 

“Where are you going?”

It was a valid question, I don’t live in Monaco. Well, not officially. 

My job allows me to work remotely, so I truthfully live wherever Lando happens to be that week. That’s over now. 

“Um, I’m not really sure. I may just show up at the airport and see where I can get a flight. I just can’t be here.” 

The look on Max’s face is one I hope to never see again. I knew at that moment that Max had always known. He knew about the crush I started harboring when we were only 13 years old. 

“Eloise, I’m not going to stop you from leaving. I cannot imagine how much you’re hurting right now, but please know he does love you.”

“No, Max, don’t say that! Please, my heart can’t entertain that idea — not anymore.” 

“But he does, Eloise. He just doesn’t reali…”

“Max, stop,” I shouted to interrupt him. “Please. I need you to not say what you’re thinking. If he loved me, even if he didn’t realize it, he would never let me feel like this. Even if he wanted to still see her, he’d tell her to be kinder to me.” 

Max just stood there. He didn’t know what to say. To be honest, I didn’t really know either, but he knew enough to at least pull me into a hug. 

That’s when I lost it. The tears started flowing and it seemed like nothing would stop them. Max laid a kiss on the top of my head, he’s always been another brother to me. He gave me an extra squeeze before placing his hands on my shoulders and pushing me away slightly. 

“Just let me know where that plane ticket gets you, OK?”

“Always.” 

With that, I turned away from one of my two best friends, with the other several floors away, and began to walk. I didn’t even have my suitcase. I guess I’d have to text Max about that one because I couldn’t turn back now. 

It was just after midnight by the time I arrived at the airport — I had thankfully found an empty taxi despite the late hour. 

As I approached the counter in the airport, the employee gave me a quick glance before her eyes returned to the screen in front of her.

“May I help you?”

“I’d like to buy a ticket.”

“To where?” 

I froze, I still hadn’t thought this far. I could go home, but that would be the first place Lando looked. For as much as I wanted him to chase after me, I still didn’t want to be easy to find. 

On a whim, one place came to mind. 

“New York. New York City.” 

[marihoneywk]

A dragon's ambition

Jacaerys Velaryon x older stepsister - one shot

Summary: Growing up under her father's influence in the Red Keep, Alysanne becomes determined to claim the Iron Throne. Feeling the sting of being overlooked and fuelled by ambition, Alysanne hatches a plan that involves the seduction of the heir to throne, her stepbrother Jacaerys, who also happens to be her half-sister's betrothed.

Warnings: incest (stepsiblings that are cousins), sexual content, p in v, tiddy succin, breeding kink, some fluff, third person narrative, oc is manipulative.

Word count: 3.8 k

Alysanne Targaryen was the oldest daughter of Daemon Targaryen. Conceived in the only night Lady Rhea Royce and Daemon spent together, Alysanne wasn’t a desired child, as her mother secretly tried to end the pregnancy.

However, Alysanne was tough and stubborn since the womb and came into the world crying so loud, the whole Vale could hear her. 

Daemon welcomed his daughter to live with him in the Red Keep upon her third name day, raising her in his own ways, educating her to be cunning and fearless.

Alysanne had grown up to be her father’s female version, a thing that scared Daemon. Her sharp mind aligned with her ethereal looks, made a dangerous combination that didn’t let any man escape. With her sweet eyes and big eyelashes, not even the guards were able to refuse a single request she made, crumbling immediately to her pleads. 

Alysanne liked her sisters, Baela and Rhaena, but didn’t love them. They were nice and fun to be around, but she couldn’t stop wandering if perhaps her life would be better, if they weren’t around. 

She also liked to believe she was her father’s favourite daughter, even if she wasn’t sure. It was only fair right? Baela and Rhaena had their own mother to favour them, while Alysanne only had Daemon. Her mother had a brief presence in her life, dying in a tragic accident with her horse three moons before Alysanne moved to Kings Landing. 

Alysanne’s life was pleasant enough, but then, Lady Laena Velaryon died and Baela and Rhaena were also left with only one parent.

They just seemed to want everything Alysanne had.

First, they played dress up with her gowns, then they ate all her honey cakes at breakfast and then finally got her father’s attention to themselves, as Daemon focused more on the twins, supporting then through their grief. 

Then, Rhaenyra came and married her father. 

Alysanne liked Rhaenyra though. She let the girl use her earrings and necklaces, and even gifted her some dresses from her younger years. But what Alysanne liked the most about her new stepmother was the fact that she was set to be next Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, making Alysanne feel like she could just touch the Iron Throne

As a result of being raised in the Red Keep until moving to Pentos, Alysanne quickly learned the power of that seat. 

Even if she didn’t understand how Viserys got there, as an ant and him had the same skills to be king, every time he passed by her in the halls, she could not divert her eyes from the shining crown on top of his balding head. Suddenly her dreams were filled with images of her sitting in the Iron Trone, wearing long bright dresses and matching jewels. 

-

Alysanne and her family had just come back from the capital, landing victoriously in Dragonstone after securing Lucerys’ inheritance of Driftmark.

However, Alysanne couldn’t be madder. It had been announced to everyone the official betrothal of Lucerys and Rhaena, and Jacaerys and Baela.

How could her father and stepmother do this to her? She was the first Daemon’s daughter to become of age to wed, and they had just putted her aside, betrothing her younger sister to the future king of the Seven Kingdoms. 

Jacaerys and Alysanne weren’t very close, as the two-year age gap between them didn’t align their interests with each other. It was a small difference of age, but Jace was a typically childish boy, which contrasted with the more mature personally of the girl.

Of all her siblings, she preferred the younger ones, Joffrey and little Aegon and Viserys. 

Their small age made it easier to shape their small minds into Alysanne’s likings. The girl quickly became their favourite sister as she would be the one that spent more time with them, playing, reading, and teaching them everything that she valued. Joffrey became so attached to the girl’s presence in his daily activities, that sometimes he would cry in his bed for her, and as a good sister, Alysanne would leave her chambers and put the boy to sleep with kisses on the forehead and loving lullabies.

-

Daemon had called Alysanne into his study , noticing the annoyed expression that hadn’t left his daughter’s face the whole trip to Dragonstone.  

“What’s wrong with you? You are acting different since last night.” Daemon asked looking directly into Alysanne’s eyes.

Alysanne wondered if she should tell her father what she was thinking exactly. Daemon liked honesty but she wasn’t sure if honesty was the right path to follow in this conversation.

“Why are Baela and Rhaena getting married before me?” Not exactly the centre of the matter that was bothering her, but it was close. 

Daemon laughed, not believing his daughter’s bad mood was caused by her sisters betrothals.

“Do you want a wedding for yourself, daughter? I didn’t know you were so eager to be attached to a man and to be popping out heirs.” Alysanne only rolled her eyes, not having the patience to her father’s typical comments. “I don’t understand your little tantrum Alysanne, if anything you should be thankful you don’t have to marry yet. But if you really are that desperate to get wed, Cregan Stark’s wife just passed away. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind a Targaryen beauty like you being given to him.”

Alysanne immediately laughed in her father’s face, letting the anger that was slowing boiling beneath her skin finally snap.

“No!” She yelled, slamming her hands down on the wodden desk that stood in the middle of the room.

“No?” Daemon repeated, not expecting her outburst.

“How is that fair? Baela gets to be queen, and I get send away to freeze in the North?” Her loud voice echoed through the chambers, as Alysanne couldn’t believe her father’s suggestion.”I’m the oldest girl! I’m your oldest daughter, I should be the one getting my ass cozy in the throne! Not Baela!” She screamed and pointed her indicator finger to her father in an accusing manner. 

Daemon was shocked but without hesitation jumped in defence of his other daugther.

“You’re not going to speak about Baela like that again! Do you hear me Alysanne?!” Daemon’s shook her shoulders, letting his temper take the best of him.

Alysanne felt her eyes water and her throat itch, as she tried to contain the sobs she was holding back. Her father had never screamed at her, and not once he had directed his anger towards her like that.

The feeling of injustice settled once again on Alysanne’s chest, hurting like the sobs in her throat. 

“You’re going to inherit Runestone, isn’t that great already?” Daemon asked rhetorically and left the room they had entered, slamming the door on his way making Alysanne shudder. 

“Why have only Runestone when you can have all the Seven Kingdoms…” She whispered to the empty office as the tears finally fell from her eyes. 

Alysanne had one goal: be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. And to accomplish that goal, she traced a plan that involved betraying her half-sister and her father. 

It would hurt, because she loved her father very much, but lately Daemon had been so distant from Alysanne and so close to Baela, that she didn’t feel that terrible doing it. 

-

Jacaerys was sitting in the beach of Dragonstone playing with little Viserys in the sand. Alysanne got closer and started an innocent conversation.

“Hello Jace.” She smiled gracefully at him. 

“Hi Aly.” He returned the jest, turning his attention to young boy next to him as he tried to stand to the sight of Alysanne.

“Hello to you too my love.” Viserys immediately put his little chubby arms in the air, begging for his sister to pick him up, showing his small teeth in a smile.

Alysanne bended over to pick up the babe, making sure she aligned the low neckline of her dress with Jacaerys’ eyesight. 

She turned to the older boy, now with the younger one on her right hip, and notice his red cheeks and the bobbing of his throat.

“How are you feeling brother?” Alysanne asked.

“A-, what-… what do you mean?” He was nervous. Like she had caught him doing something bad.

“About the betrothal, Jace. How are you feeling now that you are about the be a married man?”

“I’m content Aly, Baela is a kind and nice girl. It could be a lot worse.“ 

Alysanne knew he was being honest. Baela and Jacaerys were really good friends, and considering the Westerosi history in arranged marriages, she agreed that he definitely could have gotten worse.

“Do you think she will make a fine Queen?” She questioned him while sitting on the sand next to him, putting Viserys in her lap.

“With Daemon and my mother educating her, I don’t see how she could ever do wrong.” 

Alysanne started playing innocently with a curl on the side of Jacaerys' head, twirling it on her fingers. She pretended to not notice the chill on his neck and moved her hand to massage the curls on the top of his hair. 

“I agree with you brother, Baela would be a nice Queen. But would she be a nice Queen to you?” 

“I don’t understand Aly.” Jacaerys was getting flustered, getting distracted from the conversation as the girl's hands played so smoothly with his hair and her breasts were sitting so prettily in a pink dress. 

“A Queen should not only serve the realm, but should also serve her husband, the King. You know that right?” From his expression, it was clear that Jacaerys still wasn’t getting Alysanne’s point. “The marital bed is how Queens serve their Kings, brother. By giving them pleasure.” Alysanne smirked seeing Jacaerys’ blushed cheeks, laughing lightly when he avoided looking at her eyes. 

-

It was the middle of the night, and the castle was sleeping peacefully, except for Alysanne, who was just leaving her chambers, wearing nothing but her thin nightgown. Tiptoeing carefully on the stone floors to not alert any guards, she made her way to a room she had been very few times. 

Opening and closing the door quietly, she let her eyes wander through the dark chambers, stopping on the big bed and on the dark tuff of hair resting on the pillows. Jacaerys was sleeping peacefully, completely unaware of his sister’s presence in his room.

Alysanne made her way to the bed, seating behind Jacaerys’ back, leaning carefully in his ear. 

“Jace…” She whispered while letting her index finger wander through his neck. 

The boy started to wake up, opening his eyes slowly trying to adjust to the lack of light. 

“Alysanne?” He interrogated turning his body to face her. 

“I think I saw a spider in my room. Can I sleep with you tonight Jace?” Alysanne pouted, batting her eyelashes the best she could, but the doubt in Jacaerys’ eyes was still visible.

“Aly, I don’t think it’s appropriate. If somebody catches you, we might get in trouble.” 

As much as his words were denying her, Alysanne noticed how his eyes went down to her nipples, that had perked due to coldness of the space, and were now very visible through her white nightgown. 

“Please Jace.” She pleaded, putting her hands his shoulders. “The spider was very big, and you know how scared I am of bugs.” 

“Fine, but you have to leave before the morning comes.” 

“Thank you Jace, you the best brother.” Alysanne kissed his cheek, making her breasts collide with his chest, and even in the dark atmosphere of the room, she could very much recognize his blushing look. 

Alysanne got under the covers, making herself comfortable on the second pillow of the bed. At first, she gave Jacaerys some distance, but as the minutes passed, she slowly began to move herself close to the boy. She was facing him, observing his closed eyes, and almost laughed at his failed attempt to pretend to sleep. 

Alysanne once again, let her fingers wander through his chest, following the patterns of his garment. 

“Aly…go to sleep” Jacaerys mumbled with his eyes still closed.

“I’m trying Jacey…” 

Alysanne lifted her right foot, making a gentle path up and down in his leg, not going up above the knee. 

Jacaerys stopped her foot from continuing to move, holding it tightly with his hand. 

“What are you doing Alysanne?” He said as he finally opened his eyes, giving her a serious look.

“I’m just caressing my brother. I like to make you feel good.” She muttered, now rubbing his leg with the foot that wasn’t trapped in his hand. 

Jacaerys closed his eyes once again, but this time doing it as mechanism to calm himself. Alysanne moved her eyes down the covers, espying the bulge on the boy’s breeches. She bitted her lip and drawn her face close to his, letting their noses touch slightly.

Alysanne could feel his warm but shaky breath, also smelling the scent of lavender in his hair.

“Jace, let me make you feel good tonight…” Jacaerys whole body got chills, as the girl whispered and started to kiss his neck, making a trail to his jaw. 

“Aly-, I- “He hummed, moving his hand from her foot, tightening his grip on her ankle.” I’m betrothed do Baela, and I can’t let yourself be ruined for your future husband.” 

“I appreciate your concern for my reputation brother, but I’m not a maiden anymore.” 

Alysanne didn’t let Jacaerys make any questions, biting his neck roughly which led to a loud grunt echoing through the room. 

“Carefully Jacey, you don’t mommy Rhaenyra to catch us don’t you? Or worse, my father and my sister. Can you imagine?” She said licking the spot behind his ear. 

Jacaerys just shook his head and surrendered to whatever Alysanne planned to do with him. 

Alysanne switched positions, straddling him with her legs, seating right on top of his erect cock. Jacaerys moaned and the girl took his hands putting them across her hips.

“Do you want to see me bare brother? Do you wish to see and touch my soft skin?” 

“Yes, Aly…yes.” His hands tensed around her hips, and Alysanne moved them again, letting them rest against her rear. Jacaerys immediately groaned, hardening his grip, possibly leaving bruises on her skin.

Alysanne rubbed herself against Jacaerys’ bulge, and because her only piece of clothing was a nightgown, the only thing separating them was his breeches, causing both to moan at the contact. 

The room was getting hotter, with the heavy breathing and sweat that started to glisten in their bodies warming up the atmosphere.

Jacaerys’ eyes were close, and his head empty of thoughts, the mere feeling of his stepsister’s cunt making him dumb.

Alysanne´s hands moved to the straps of her nightgown, pushing them down just enough to show her tits.

“Jacey, open your eyes my love.” She whispered in his ear and the boy followed her request, coming to immediate disbelief, not expecting Alysanne’s bust to be right in front his face.

“Can I?” He asked nervously, not having the courage to express in full words what he wanted to say exactly.

The girl nodded, and carefully, Jace moved his hands touching Alysanne’s tits like they were a fragile piece of glass. She chuckled teasingly as his index fingers made round movements around her nipples.

“You can go harder you know? I’m not a doll.”

Jacaerys, hearing her words, gripped both of her breasts roughly, and as a moan left his stepsister’s mouth, he got even harder, felling like the fabric of his breeches was about to rip.

Alysanne grabbed his hair, pushing his head close to her chest. “Suck them brother.”

He widened his eyes, taking some seconds to fully process her words, and Alysanne, with her lack of patience, pulled his hair harder with her fingers, moving his head forcefully in the direction her tits.

If Jacaerys got uncomfortable with the sudden lack of delicacy of his stepsister, he didn’t show it, as he immediately opened his mouth and sucked on Alysanne’s left breast like a hungry babe.

“Fuck…You are so good Jace. Can´t believe I only discovered you now.” The Targaryen girl opened her mouth in silent moans, never once stopping her hips from moving against her stepbrother’s lap.

Jacaerys felt like his cock was going to explode. Never once in his life he had been this hard.

He had noticed Alysanne’s looks before, always having to look away when the siblings would go for a swim in the beach of Dragonstone, and her shift would stick to her body, giving him a perfect view of her bottom and chest. He was still in disbelief, but the feeling of guilt or treason had vanished from his head since he felt her bare cunt against him.

Alysanne moved Jace’s head again, withdrawing his mouth from her breast, making a thin thread of spit connect to her nipple. His eyebrows raised in a frown, as he didn’t like that he got stopped, until the girl carefully raised her hips, and slowly started to unlace his breaches.

“Are you ready brother?” She questioned and the boy nodded without hesitation, eager to finally feel her pussy fully around him.

Alysanne was pleasantly surprised upon the sight of her stepbrother’s cock. With only a handful of sexual experiences with one of the knights of the Dragonstone, Jacaerys’ manhood was big in length and width. Alysanne debuted her hand could fully close around it.

Before pushing her hips down again, the girl took her nightgown off, throwing it to some corner of the room.

Her cunt was glistening with wetness, making Jacaerys grunt at the sight.

Alysanne pushed one finger inside of her, whining at the feeling, only to pull it out and slowly press her wet and shiny digit to Jace’s lips.

The boy didn’t expect this action, but quickly let the surprise get away and instead allowed the curiosity to take hold of him. Opening his mouth carefully, he licked the wet substance that was touching his lips, being interrupted as Alysanne shoved her wet finger inside in mouth. Just like he did with her nipple, Jacaerys sucked like his life depended on it, loving the sweet taste of his stepsister in his mouth. It was sweater than any dessert he had ever tasted, and more addicting than any wine in the Seven Kingdoms.

The Targaryen girl chuckled amused with this moment, proceeding to leave delicate kisses on his neck.

Taking her finger of Jacaerys’ mouth, Alysanne connected her gaze with his, as she aligned his cock with her cunt, finally sinking down.

Both moaned loudly at the sensation. Alysanne felt full to a point of pain, and Jacaerys felt a tight and warm embrace in his manhood, that it was close enough to make him come.

“Fuck Jacey.” Alysanne pulled their lips together in a lustful and passionate kiss. It was hungry and desperate, both chasing each other’s tongue, not worrying about syncing the movements.

Alysanne started to move her hips, first at a slow pace, wanting to adjust to her stepbrother large cock, but Jacaerys was already impatient and wanted more. Groaning, he took hold of her hips, and pressed her down more on him. Alysanne felt like she could sob from pleasure, and moved her hips faster, making herself and Jace see stars.

“Aly you feel so good.” He moaned breathy, pressing small kisses on her tits.

The bed moved against the stone wall, making a noise that echoed through the room, but not high enough that could silence their sounds of pleasure.

Alysanne, feeling her leg muscles starting to get tired, slowed down a little, and Jace, sensing that, began to move his own hips upwards, thrusting into Alysanne´s pussy without mercy.

The girl’s eyes watered as his cock touched that spot, forcing her to bite into Jacaerys’ shoulder to prevent the scream that was about to leave her mouth from waking their family up.

They exchange gazes, and Jacaerys thought he was seeing an angle, upon the sight of Alysanne´s face. Her silver long hair was a mess, and her cheeks were flustered and red, but what really mesmerised him were her teary violet eyes and swollen lips. If he was meant to go to one of the seven heavens, he was sure they would never be more beautiful than this view.

Seeing his deep stare, Alysanne smiled softly and pressed a small kiss on Jacaerys’ lips.

“I’m close Aly.” He said making a low sound that rattled in his throat.

“Come inside me Jacey. Please brother.” She begged and the boy was quick to nod in agreement, but Alysanne could still see the hesitation in his eyes. She pushed Jace against the mattress, taking command of the pace again, and with all her strength, she rode Jace like the dragonrider she was.

“Gods...” He whispered, one hand on her back and the other on her ass, squeezing it tightly.

Fire burned in Alysanne’s belly, as her climax was also approaching. She moved her hand down, reaching for her cunt and toyed with her clit, wanting to reach the orgasm together with Jace.

Alysanne pressed her forehead with his, the sweat sticking their hair together, and Jacaerys’ brown eyes widen with adoration.

He felt like this was meant to be, Alysanne’s deep violet eyes looking into his and his hands worshiping every piece of her skin. He wasn´t sure if should be thanking the gods for her existence, as in the moment she was a goddess herself.

“Come on brother, let me give you a sweet babe with dark hair.” As this sentence left Alysanne´s mouth, Jacaerys’ was unable to hold it anymore and with a trembling heart, he lifted his large palm, and slapped the girl’s ass forcefully, immediately leaving a red bruise. Alysanne gasped, and finally, together, both reached their release. Alysanne clung to him, coming with a loud cry, and Jacaerys buried his face on her neck, muffling a deep moan into her skin.

Alysanne felt the warm release of her stepbrother filling her, and smiled, allowing her hips to continue moving, wanting to prolong both of their pleasure.

“Fuck...” Jace’s tired voice spoke as he carefully withdrawn her from his lap.

Alysanne moved to his side, putting her head in his chest and looked directly into his eyes.

“Did you enjoy it?” She questioned teasingly.

“What do you think?” The boy laughed and pressed a light kiss to her forehead.

The silence that now filled the room was an extreme contrast to the loud atmosphere that was bursting moments before.

Alysanne got what she wanted, and the happiness of being able to accomplish her goal, mixed with the pleasure she had felt, had brought her to a state of bliss.

Jacaerys on the other hand, was now contemplating his future. If his betrothal to Baela wasn´t important some minutes ago, now it was a screaming thought in his head.

When the betrothal was announced, he never for once got sad about it, with Baela being a kind and beautiful girl. But now, after having Alysanne in his arms, he knew that entire years of a marriage with Baela wouldn’t bring him the happiness he felt in a single night with Alysanne.

[aurawrawr]

Who am I to you?

Part 1

King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna x afab reader x twin brother and Kingsguard Yuuji Itadori

Set in the Heian era, the twins, Ryomen and Yuuji, befriend a girl who they both fall in love with. But who will she choose when the time comes — the delinquent, tough Ryomen or the sweet, charming Yuuji?

so... anon requested a story and me being me, i replied to the request without posting the story. anyhoo, this is going to be a two-parter because the request gave me a lot to work with and i really wanted to establish the lore. part 2 would be up so so soon.

Minors, DNI. WC: 2.8k

CW: sibling rivalry, coarse language, attempted SA, violence, death, blood and wounds, public slander, public proposal, love triangle, no use of y/n

Growing up, you were the apple of their eyes. Both of theirs. You had watched them pull each other's hair, slap and punch each other, steal the other's food. You had also listened to Yuuji crying about how mean his brother was. And when you used to find Ryomen sneaking around in the kitchen, stealing Yuuji's favorite snack for his little brother, all you had to do was roll your eyes and train your ears to hear Ryo grumbling about how he was just fooling around and that he'd never do anything to hurt Yuuji on purpose.

Ryomen had made it a point to always refer to Yuuji as his little brother, even though they were born on the same day, from the same womb, killing the same mother as they each took their first breath. Ryo was only a moment early. Several years later, when he had heard from one of their maids how it was really a choice between their mother's life and that of baby Yuuji's, and it was ultimately their mother's decision to let her child live, Ryomen had made up his mind to always protect Yuuji and put him first, and in doing so, he had hoped to always be able to honor their mother's dying wish.

But putting Yuuji first meant taking a step back. Always. Even in matters of the heart. For, the twins always ended up liking the same things, even the same person.

You were the daughter of one of the handmaidens appointed for the twins' father's new wife. You had a type of clairvoyance. Even at the young age of ten, you could read other people's emotions aptly, you knew a person just from the sound of their footstep or their breathing. When you had first walked into the mansion, your tiny hand in your mother's determined grip, you were beyond confused by the duality of the twins. Yuuji wore his heart on his sleeve; you didn't need any special power to tell what was on his mind. Ryomen, on the other hand, you couldn't figure out even with your clairvoyance. And because of that, for the longest time, he became a subject of soul-crushing interest to you. Until he became the boy you feared.

Yuuji would get you flowers from his adventures, and concerns. He always came back with scratches and injuries left on his body for you to fix. He knew how to accept your care with open arms.

But, Ryomen? He had walls so high around him, it always got on your last nerve.

The Lord of the house was quick to replace the twins' mother with a woman who, in a year, had birthed a son. In a few years of time, it was clear who was going to be the successor. You still remember the look on Ryo's face when his stepmother held an elaborate ceremony and made his father declare that her son would be the next Lord. That boy grew up to be a monster, always picking on the girls and bullying the weak ones. One day, he had gone for you, blocking your path from the pond where you bathed back to the house. The more you tried to flee, the more aggressive and vile he became. Until someone, a towering figure, came up from behind him and pulled back his collar.

"Ryo!" You ran to your friend, hiding behind his muscly arm.

"Ah, brother!" The young Lord jested. "You know how it is. Women. Can't tolerate them and yet, can't go a day without them. You wouldn't stand in my way now, would you?”

"Of course not.”

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Surely, Ryomen wouldn't let a stalker lay his hands on you. But when he stepped aside, and you looked up at his emotionless face, you couldn't be so certain anymore. You trembled, not from the water still dripping from your clothes or the wind that swept your hair onto your face but from fear of the approaching figure. He wasn't as big as Ryomen but you still wouldn't stand a chance against him. The only person you could think of at the moment, who would save you, and not stand aside and watch your demise, was Yuuji. You hated Ryo, despised every speck of his existence. How could he?

You shut your eyes tight as the boy came closer and closer. When you heard a grunt, you opened them to see him flying to the ground. Ryomen had punched his face.

"What in the world?" The Lord sat up, pulling backward on his butt. "I'm going to tell Otou-san on you. You scoundrel, how dare you?”

"Let me give you more to bitch about.”

You watched as Ryo almost leaped on to the boy, pinned him down and started to punch him. The Lord kicked his legs under Ryo's weight, trying to break free, scratched his exposed arms, but nothing budged him at all.

"How dare I?" You heard your friend. "How dare you? How dare you even look at her with those filthy eyes of yours? How dare you even think of touching her?" At the end of every question came a punch that landed straight on his half-brother's jaw, splattering blood to the side.

"Ryo." You called out to him. "Ryo, let him go. Ryo, that's enough. Come on now.”

"No." Another punch. "Not until he's dead." Another punch.

You stood there, shaking, and you didn't even notice when Yuuji appeared, tried to separate his brothers, failed and went running back to bring two servants to pull Ryo back. Only when Yuuji put his arms around you did you finally slump into him, immediately falling unconscious.

When you came around, you saw your mother and Yuuji by your bedside, your mother saying prayers to the Gods and thanking her Ryoryo-chan. "Where is he?" You asked your best friend.

"Otou-san has banished him to the outhouse. You should have been there for that argument.”

"Has he eaten? Did someone clean his wounds?”

"I tried," your mother informed you. "But he wouldn't even let me look at his arm. Ask Yuyu-chan. He's taken his pipe and shut the door on the world.”

You rushed out, Yuuji closely following. When you reached the cabin, you pounded away at the door until Ryomen responded, "Leave.”

"You know I won't. Not until you let me fix your wounds.”

"Go. Away.”

"Why?”

"Because I don't want you to see me like this.”

"Like what, Ryo?”

Before he could answer, Yuuji chimed in, "open the door, Aniki. Let us in.”

"Fuck off, you two.”

"Please." You begged. "Please let me– us see you.”

You heard the latch fall and pushed inside. The air was thick with the stench of burning grass. It made your eyes water. Yuuji kept the door open for the smoke to pass. You immediately got to work. Bringing a bucket and a washrag from the bathroom, you knelt by the bed where Ryo was sitting. "Show me," You said.

"Leave me alone.”

"Who slapped you?" You noticed the red impression of fingers on his cheek. Your fingers rushed to touch it, heal it if you could.

"My father's wife.” Ryo nudged your hand away.

"You mean, your mother?”

"She's not my mother. Your mother is more of a mother to me than my father's wife will ever be.”

You sighed. "Fine. Now, give me your hand.”

"Don't be such a drag, Aniki." Yuuji sat down beside him. "Everything will be fine. And if it isn't, we three will run away together. We'll have a small house on the hills with a tea shop in the front. You and I will go work in the tea farms and she will sell tea to any traveler or tourist or anyone passing by. We'll all be fine. I promise.”

Ryo let out a small smile and patted his brother's cheek. Sighing, he placed his hand in yours, the blood on his knuckles dry and raised. "Did you really need to do this to yourself?”

"Or what? Let that son of a wench have his way with you?”

"I thought that's what you intended, the way you…”

"You maim my heart, woman. You really thought I'd let a vulture have you while I'm still alive and standing?" This was the first time he called you a woman and not a little girl. Maybe knowing another man wanted you made him see you as a woman.

"Aniki, you scared her. You know that, right? I know you were enraged but…”

"That's alright. She can stomach it.”

You looked up to meet Ryomen's gaze, intense and wanting. But wanting for what?

"She fainted, Aniki.”

"That's because she doesn't eat." Ryo smirked. "Yuuji, why don't you go and get some food for all of us?”

You held your breath as Yuuji walked out the door, the ever so compliant, sweet and understanding younger brother, and you were left alone with the tough, delinquent, taller, smirking, challenging older one. You kept cleaning Ryo's hands, your cheeks tepid and chest flushed with all the blood in your body. He grabbed your wrist in an iron grip, bringing it to his lips. He didn't kiss it, just held it there like he was craving your touch.

"I'll become so strong and powerful, bugs like him would think twice, thrice, several times before even looking at you. You'll have nothing to be scared of. Ever.”

You nodded, smiling. Ryo's gaze was so soft at that moment; it was almost a gateway to his soul. For the first time in a decade, when you touched his hand, you could almost tell what he was feeling. His guards were down; he was letting you in on all his secrets. Your fear of him from earlier had dissipated completely, replaced by a warmth you had never felt before. For anyone else. Was this love? The same love your mother had always told you about? She had said, it'd feel just right, that your palm would fit into theirs and their smell would be something you'd recognize even if you were blindfolded.

It did feel right. To know that Ryomen would protect you gave you a sense of relief. You somehow knew the warmth in your heart was reciprocated by him. And for that, you were both grateful and scared.

Your faces inched closer, your heartbeat like a war drum in your ears, but before he could bridge the gap between your trembling lips and his open, smirking mouth, screams from outside the house startled you.

"Bring out the wench," the people shouted.

"Set her on fire.”

"What a disgrace! She seduced the young Lord.”

"Such a shame!”

"No, that is not what happened." You heard your mother trying to defend you, going out of her usual vocal range of what was considered a meek woman. "No, listen, please. My daughter would never. She has grown up in front of your eyes. You know the kind of girl she is.”

You rushed to the doorway, and Ryomen followed. When the people saw you, their screams only grew louder. "Burn her," they said. "Burn her." All of them were servants and guards of the house, colleagues of your mother, people who had once told you that you were just like their own daughter. Their jostling pushed your mother to the ground and you couldn't help but descend into the mob. You heard Ryo's pleas for you to stay back but you couldn't let your mother be victim to a stampede.

The people cornered you, separated you and your mother from Ryo. He tried to push his way through but there were just so many people.

"Answer our questions, wench. Why did you try to besmirch the good young Lord's name and reputation?”

"Weren't you scared for your own good?”

"Who will marry you now that you've given your body up to the young Lord?”

"I will." The answer silenced the whole crowd. With tears in your eyes, you looked up. You knew the voice. The soft yet determined voice that rarely took no for an answer. Your best friend who you always confided in, who knew everything about you. Well, almost everything.

Yuuji came forward and took your hands in his. Several mouths gasped put loud at his gesture. You turned your gaze to where Ryo was standing and saw his face, ashen, like he just realized he'd made a grave mistake.

"I..." Yuuji clasped your hand tighter. "I wanted to talk to you about this for a long time but... I... I also wanted to wait until I had a proper job. But seeing these people vilify you like this, I thought this was the right time. I know what actually happened and that you're an honest woman. What am I saying? Even if you weren't, and if I had your consent, of course, there's nothing I'd like more than having a family with you. What... what do you think? Well you don't have to answer rightaway. Obviously, you need to talk to Okaa-san and I need to talk to Aniki. And…”

"Yuuji," You stopped him from continuing to badger. "I... I don't know what to say." What could you have said that wouldn't have hurt him, and destroyed your decade-long friendship?

You turned your head again, only to see Ryo heading back inside the shed he had been banished to. You needed to know what he was thinking. Did he really have nothing to say?

The crowd was disappearing, disappointed that their bullying had no satisfactory conclusion. You sent Yuuji and your mother back too before rushing to Ryo.

Just as you had feared, you saw him packing clothes and essentials into a bag you had once sewn together for him. "Ryo, what are you doing?" You asked but there was no answer. "Ryo? Ryo?" You followed him around as he picked up more things from around the room. "Ryo, talk to me. Please.”

"Congratulations are in order, I suppose."

"What? No! Ryo, stop." You stood in between him and the doorway. But he was too strong. He picked you up and sat you down on the bed before starting to head out. "Why are you leaving?”

"I have no place here, not now at least.”

"What–”

"Tell me, woman." He turned to you, his bag slinging from his broad shoulder. "Who am I to you?”

You scoffed. As if, that could be put into words. He was the boy who walked behind when Yuuji showed you around town, looking out for any signs of terror. He was the boy who filleted fish for you because he knew you hated chewing on bones. He was the man who almost killed the bastard that wished to consume you. He not only had your heart, you were ready to sacrifice your soul for him.

"See?" He scoffed too.

"What am I to you?" Your question paused him in his tracks. He turned and smiled. Not a smirk, a genuine smile. A melancholic smile. "If it is so easy to put into words, you do it then. What am I to you?”

"A reason.”

Ryomen was already gone before you could interrogate him further. At the time, you had no idea that'd be the last you saw of him, the real him. You sat there, for who knew how long, grieving your friendship, your love, your innocence – all gone in a single day – before Yuuji came back with a tray of food.

"Where's Aniki?" He asked, setting it down.

You composed yourself before answering, lying, "I don’t know. He was gone by the time I came back.”

"Are you–?" Yuuji crouched down in front of you, holding your hands again. There was a lot of eagerness in his grasp, a little impatience too. "Are you still tensed about what happened out there?”

You nodded, sniffling and rubbing off the tears you shed for his brother with the back of your hand.

"Don't worry. They can't hurt you. Not while I'm here. And..." He sensed your concern. "It has got nothing to do with my question, okay? Even if you say no, that's okay too. I'll still always be there for you. Always.”

"What am I to you?”

"What?”

"Yuuji, what am I to you?" You needed to know if there was a simple answer to this question.

He looked around, as if the answer was in the room. When he couldn't find it, he said, "You... You are my best friend. Is that enough?”

"Yes.”

"Great! Now, come, eat something please.”

"No, Yuuji, I meant, yes.”

His eyes grew wider, finally realizing what you meant. "Yes?”

You nodded. "Yes, I'll marry you.”

Until that moment, you weren't sure if this was such a good idea. Even when you actually uttered the word. But the beaming smile on Yuuji's face made it all worth it. All of it, even knowing that your best friend was going to marry a woman who will always love another man more.

please don't copy my work, or publish it elsewhere without my consent. all banners are from pinterest.

here's part 2

[minniethemoocherda]

Connect This Space Between

Summary: "PRIME! YOUR SPARKLING IS CURRENTLY OVERCHARGED ON HIGHGRADE IN MY MEDBAY!"

A/N: This takes place a few weeks before the start of my fic Iridescent. But you shouldn't have to read that for this to make sense. In my head Bumblebee is around the equivalent of seventeen here whilst the twins are about nineteen. Also sorry! I am on a hype right now! So I couldn't wait until Sunday to post this! What did you guys think of the new Transformers One trailer? Anyway hope you enjoy! Xxxxxxx

Ao3

FF.net

"PRIME!"

Optimus jerked awake at the sound Ratchet's voice shouting over his internal comms, accidently knocking to the floor a pile of datapads that he must've fallen asleep on top of.

"Yes Ratchet?" Optimus said, bending down to place the fallen datapads back onto his desk.

"You're sparkling is currently overcharged on highgrade in my medbay."

Optimus nearly dropped the datapads again in shock.

"Is Bumblebee okay?" He asked, concern for his ward over riding the many questions that statement posed.

"He's as fine as one can be after drinking an entire bottle of the twins' moonshine." Ratchet answered, the familiar cranky tone, reassuring Optimus that the damage was not too serious.

"I am on my way."

As Optimus marched towards the medbay, the questions previously overridden, now sprung to the forefront of his mind.

Why would Bumblebee be drinking? How did he gets his servos on the twin's secret stash? And what would possess him to drink enough of it to end up in Ratchet's medbay?

It didn't make sense to Optimus that the newspark that he had found in the ruins of The Well could be drinking.

Although he guessed that he shouldn't be too surprised considering that Bumblebee was due to get his final upgrades in a couple of weeks. Optimus supposed that it was only natural that Bumblebee would get curios about such things.

Outside the medbay, Prowl was currently reading Sideswipe and Sunstreaker the riot act, listing off all of their current offences which included but not limited too; indecent behaviour, production of moonshine and serving said moonshine to an underage mechling. The twins faces paled under the scrutiny, whether that was from their own over indulgent high grade consumption or from their dawning realisation of how much trouble they were in, Optimus was unsure. He suspected that most likely, it was a mixture of both.

Inside, Bumblebee appeared the picture of misery. He was hunched over the edge of a berth with his doorwings drooped and his head in a bucket.

His eyes widened in panic when he spotted Optimus standing the doorway.

He opened his mouth, probably to protest that he hadn't been caught drinking when he was cut off by his own spew, regurgitating into the bucket.

Optimus hurried across the medbay to his side. No matter the circumstances, the Prime hated seeing his sparkling in pain.

He rubbed the space between Bumblebee doorwings like he had when he was little until eventually the young bot had finished emptying his energon tank.

Ratchet switched the now full bucket for an empty one.

"Am I dying?" Bumblebee slurred.

Ratchet snorted.

"You're going to wish you are when you're sober enough for me to give you my dangers of underage drinking lecture!"

Optimus thought that was a bit ironic coming from the mech who's nickname growing up had been The Party Ambulance. But since Optimus preferred not having a wrench thrown at his head, he tactfully decided not to mention that.

"I'm sorry." Bumblebee mumbled, sounding so dejected that regardless of the splashes of energon now staining the bot's front Optimus couldn't help but put his arm around him.

For the first time in months Bumblebee didn't shrug him off, instead leaning into his touch. Over the past few years as his sparkling came ever closer to adulthood, Bumblebee had sought comfort from his guardian less and less. Even if the only reason Bumblebee was permitting it was due to his lessoned inhibitions, Optimus felt his spark warm.

"I should hope that this experience has been enough of a lesson for you to learn from without the lecture." Optimus said.

Bumblebee nodded, nuzzling against his shoulder.

Growing up in a war, Bumblebee's childhood had been anything but traditional. He'd never had the chance to go to just school or the cinema or the park. Until recently he'd never even met any cybertronians his own age before.

No, instead Bumblebee's childhood had been a serious of safe houses and self defence lessons.

In a strange way, Optimus was glad that Bumblebee was getting in trouble for normal mechling things for once. Not that he was going to tell Bumblebee that.

At least Bumblebee's first fore into high grade hadn't ended with him throwing up on Alpha Trion's prized organic scroll collection.

"Drink this." Ratchet ordered, interrupting Optimus's thoughts as he thrust a glowing purple liquid under Bumblebee's nose.

Bumblebee looked nauseous again at the idea of anything more to drink, but under Ratchet's glare reluctantly took a sip.

"Good now you shouldn't have to waste any more of my time again tomorrow morning because of a hangover."

Optimus fought the urge not to show his smile. As despite Ratchet's gruff words, he knew that the medic's actions showed the not so secret soft spot Ratchet had for the sparking. Because if it had been anyone else in this position, they would've been thrown straight to the brig to sober up the hard way.

"Now, Prime can walk you back to your room so you don't end up in any more trouble." Ratchet stated as he started to clean up.

"I'm okay." Bumblebee protested.

"Oh really?" Ratchet drawled. "Walk in a straight line for me."

Bumblebee pushed the bucket aside as he stood up on his unsteady feet. He didn't even make it one step before nearly faceplanting the floor. Luckily, Optimus managed to catch him by his scruff bar before he could do any more damage to himself.

Even in his drunken state, Bumblebee must've known that resistance would he futile as he didn't put up anymore fight when Optimus scooped him up.

Gone were the days when Optimus could lift Bumblebee with only the palm of his hand. But even on the edge of adulthood, Bumblebee was still a small bot. Optimus cradled him close, arms securing the bot's legs and back, allowing Bumblebee to rest his against his shoulder. Optimus easily carried the mech to his quarters.

Once there, he gently placed Bumblebee down on the berth, tucking the blanket of tarp under the mechling's chin.

As Ratchet's potion kicked in and Bumblebee drifted off, Optimus glanced around the room that was the closest place the young bot had ever had to a home. On shelves sat scavenged action figures from shows he'd never watched, attached upon the painted walls that showed sights he would never see. And by his bed, a set of twins knives that Optimus had tried to talk Jazz out of giving to him.

Because as much as Optimus wished that he could, he would not be able to protect the former sparkling from the horrors of the world. Something that even without a war, would still ring true. One way or another, Bumblebee was always going to grow up.

With a new sense of acceptance, Optimus was about to leave he heard a quiet voice mumble;

"Love you sire."

Optimus smiled, walked back across the room to place a kiss on the helm of his sleeping sparkling.

"I love you too."

[mightbeimpossiblenotto]

Silver - Oct 14 - @rosekillermicrofic - 871 words - Warnings: none

Barty loved his job at Insidious Ink. He had always loved to draw, but he had no interest in recreating landscapes or detailing a portrait of someone. He liked to draw snakes, and skulls, and unrealistic eyeballs, and all kinds of other things. When he secured an apprenticeship with his local tattoo shop, he had already had several tattoos of his own on his skin. He was thrilled — the only thing that was better than pen and paper was ink and skin, in his opinion.

It was the first thing that he excelled at that he actually wanted to continue to do well. In school, everything came easily enough to him, but he didn’t want the good grades that came with learning if it meant his father only expected more of him. But his father resented tattoos, so it was something into which Barty could throw his whole self. He quickly became the best artist at that little shop, and one of the owners encouraged him to open his own studio.

Insidious Ink was opened only six months later; when Barty put his mind to something, he was determined to finish it. He hired a few of his own artists to work for him, a gorgeous woman named Dorcas whose line work was incredible, and a sullen young man fresh out of school named Regulus who excelled in florals and other plant work. In their free time, Barty taught them everything he learned from his mentors, and they quickly grew an unbreakable bond between the three of them.

The Rosier twins came in on a rainy Monday afternoon. The shop was quiet, only one girl getting tatted from Dorcas in the very back. She had been here a few times before in the past few months. Her name was Marlene, and this time she wanted a single line tattoo of a two women almost kissing. Dorcas seemed a little too interested when she was consulting with Marlene, which is why Barty sent them to the back. He didn’t need to see lesbians flirting while trying to get his work done, as cute as it usually tended to be.

When the two blondes, one man and one woman, entered the building, Barty and Regulus had been sketching out a few designs for clients they were consulting with via email. Regulus didn’t even look up when the bell over the door indicated their arrival, but Barty was trained like a dog to react. He sprung up out of his chair to greet them, but the words died in his throat when he took sight of them.

They were the two most beautiful people he had ever seen, especially the man. The woman was stunning, with long white-blonde wavy hair down to her lower back, braids twisting the face framing pieces back away from her eyes. She had lovely dark skin and bright grey eyes. Her smile was utterly dazzling.

But the sight of the man with her — who had to be her brother with the matching features — had Barty almost falling back onto his stool. He had the same dark skin and gorgeous eyes, the same sharp cheekbones and long nose. But his blond hair was in dreads, with silver cuffs adorning them, glinting in the fluorescent lighting in the tattoo shop. He had a lip piercing, a little silver hoop in his plush lower lip. His ears were pierced, too, with silver safety pins hanging from each of them. He had a hoop in his nose, a hoop sticking off his left eyebrow, studs over right brow.

Barty had never really been interested in piercings before. He certainly never had reason to get any himself, but seeing all of the silver glinting off this man, he was dying to know if he had any other metal anywhere else.

“Barty,” Regulus hissed behind him, bringing him out of his daydream about getting the man pantless in his shop. “They’re talking to you, answer them.”

“Huh?” Barty said rather eloquently, and sure enough, the two blondes had approached the desk, and were waiting for his response. “I mean — Welcome to Insidious Tattoos. What can I help you with?”

The woman just blinked at him, unconcerned with his odd behavior, but the corners of the man’s mouth were twitching as if he were hiding a smile.

“I’m Pandora,” the woman introduced. “This is my brother, Evan. We would each like to get a tattoo today, but they will be different.”

“What exactly are you looking to get done?” Regulus asked for Barty, because he was still staring at Evan’s mouth.

“I would like three red spider lilies,” Pandora said, “to represent those close to me who have passed.”

“The death flower,” Regulus said softly, then he stepped forward to speak to Pandora directly. “My work is mostly florals. Would you like to take a look?”

Regulus led her off to a table used for consultations with clients, leaving Barty alone with Evan.

“And what are you looking for?” Barty asked, trying not to stare at the other man in front of him.

I want a jackal skull,” Evan said. “With plenty of detail.”

Barty grinned then. “That, I can do.”

[jellyvibes710]

I'm aliveeee (Little Baby Blue AU)

So I made a thing! It took forever but I did it! I'm not the best with shading or backgrounds but I really like how these came out and I really hope you enjoy!!

This comic series will take event after the movie, it will be heartwarming but also painful, there will be some trigger warning ⚠ for some of the parts as well

The first few parts will be twin angst because I can't help myself, but dee will be doing his best to get leo better but as the weeks progress he's getting worse and worse till he eventually falls into a coma, around this time dee realizes that Leo's body isn't going to make it so he uses his big brain to come up with a plan to just make a clone of leo then transfer his soul to the Clone. He'll have to make a deal with big mama to get the right thing to accomplish this task, then leo flatlines for the first time. Although the first few parts are gonna be dark especially for the twins, traumatic for donnie because he's racing against a clock that's getting smaller and smaller, hearing his brother flatline multiple times and having to do more damage to his already fragile body just to bring him back, his twin senses were only sensing inpending doom from his dying twin, feeling a snap every time leo heart stops, hearing raph and mikey cry and bang at the door when they also heard him flatline, he didn't sleep the entire time and when he did it was brief, and having no choice but to put Leo's spirt in not only a copy of his body but a baby sized one because he knew if leo flatlined one more time he wouldn't bounce back from it, and in the back of his head he knew either way leo was going to have to relearn how to walk and talk because not only is his body demolished but his brain was scrambled and he was showing clear signs of heavy brain trauma BEFORE he slipped into a coma then when he does pull Leo's soul out (thank big mama for that tool) his spirt let's out a cry that'll haunt donnies mind forever.

It'll be traumatic for leo because last he knew he was drifting to sleep and now suddenly he's smaller, his vision is blurred so his environment is unfamiliar and dispute his twin senses he couldn't physically tell donnie was there with him but he knew donnie was scared, he couldn't hear anything because his ears were ringing so loud in his head that he couldn't hear donnies constantly apologizing as he has to pin leo down, make sure all his reflects are responsive, shine bright light in his face (which he did NOT like), leo was so scared that he was trembling and crying so loud donnie was glad he soundproofed the lab, it took hours for his sight and hearing to return to normal and the first thing he sees is a destroyed/very drained Dee, an image that'll linger in his head probably forever, but seeing him made leo immediately want to cling to donnie but he realized he couldn't even control his body the way he wanted which scared him and when donnie finally picked leo up and clung to him, he felt so small and vulnerable but he felt safe scooped up in Dee's hands which were warm from his constant fidgeting and rubbing his hands together, and if dee had to set leo down even for a moment he'd spirl into fear and start crying again because everything felt so fake but being held really grounded him to earth and kept his mind calm, for a few days he can't even tell if everything is real or not. Donnie doesn't even let mikey and raph see leo the first few days of being a baby because sadly it was donnies only option, either make a clone and put his brother's spirt in that or he dies and he'd have no way to see him again, he almost doesn't even make it and had to do cpr on leo two or three times while creating the clone and Leo's body was so damaged that each time he'd do cpr he'd have less and less time

It took just under a week for dee to build confidence to show everyone leo and explain why it was his only option, which everyone was clearly mad but understood the reasoning, dee also noticed that when he wore his ninja gear leo was constantly on edge and clearly stressed hence why everyone isn't wearing their gear to let leo kinda know that he doesn't have to worry, of course dee is the first to go back into his ninja gear because he feels like he needs to be ready for anything especially now that leo is so fragile, they gave a proper grave to Leo's old body since there wasn't anything they could do to save it. Then it's LOT of family bonding time and healing, mentally and emotionally for everyone, so it's gonna be heartwarming(hopefully) and also have its pained moments. I already did a few short comics with baby leo because I was mostly bored and I started building a story in my head and now I'm just kinda starting it >.>

This comic will be like dark chocolate, sweet but bitter

Or sour patch kids, sour sweet gone lmao

Who'll be in the comic? Everyone

I'm super excited to finally be getting started on this au and I really hope everyone enjoys it 💖

(Bonus)Some lil details I added while thinking of a storyline;

no matter how big and intimating mikey made himself look for the part you can tell that he's being super gentle with leo because he knows he naturally stronger in general then the rest of his bros, although while playing dead with leo was fun, when leo played along and flopped over it hit mikey just how close he was to actually losing his brother, small details with big impacts :]

Like- I-- just- just look at this picture, you can see the absolute care in his touch, the protective way he holds lil leo close while his face just screams "I won't let you get hurt again" and the realization of what it means to be an older brother and finally understanding raphs own overprotective tendency, mikey will definitely grow from this experience and his and raph because super close because of it, so there will be plenty of the sunset duo (I love this picture)

(Bonus #2 because I didn't sleep worth shit while working on this whole thing)

MORE BABY LEO HERE (interdiction)

HERE (Raphs/baby leo playtime)

AND HERE (mikey/babyleo + donnie/babyleo playtime)

But wait, there's more (April meets little leo)

Characters and (rough) story

Little baby blue AU

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 407: Wait Why Are You Running Away

Previously on BnHA: Kacchan figured out how to control his quirk upgrade and was totally chill and normal about it. Definitely not terrifying at all. He actually spent the entire chapter smiling and laughing like the wholesome little boy he is. I don’t know why Kid For One is so freaked out about it. He even politely introduced himself using his childhood nickname. Clearly he just wants to be friends with you, KFO!

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “sorry to keep you waiting, here’s the AFO and Yoichi flashback you ordered at long last” and proceeds to serve a nightmarish stew of HUMAN MISERY and RATS and STABBING and CARNAGE and SO MUCH MURDER and THE SINGLE MOST FUCKED-UP CASE OF CODEPENDENCY ANYONE HAS EVER WRITTEN. I was not even remotely prepared for any of this, and if anyone else claims that they were, I will call you a liar to your face. If this chapter had a mouth it would scream. Or just sob, ceaselessly and uncontrollably. I’m really glad Horikoshi is on break next week because that man needs to take a fucking nap. My god.

okay WOW

anyone else read the first two words and just immediately say to themselves, “oh okay, so it’s gonna be one of those chapters”? I mean, I guess we were due for a darker chapter after last week’s Kacchan Comedy Tour. but idk, I just wasn’t expecting “homeless sick prostitute with a drinking problem” levels of dark

AND SHE’S PREGNANT?!

what exactly is this manga rated again? doesn’t this backstory seem just a little bit raw for the impressionable kiddos??

has anyone actually checked in on Horikoshi recently? you know, just to make sure he is okay??

what a fun and wholesome manga this is

the lil baby arm covered in blood with the AFO hole on the palm. lying next to the dead mom hand. what an image to sear into our minds. I guess it’s been a while since he killed any dogs. gotta keep us on our toes somehow

also wasn’t expecting AFO and Yoichi to be twins! that puts an interesting spin on their relationship, because it’s usually a closer bond than even regular siblings. especially with all of that delightful shared trauma from a young age!!

yes, exactly

ohhhh this chapter is gonna hurt me, isn’t it. okay. ooooooookay. let’s do this

OH I’M SORRY, THERE’S MORE?!

Horikoshi my dude. you do realize that their mom dying in childbirth and the two of them just barely surviving and growing up as street orphans would have already been MORE than tragic enough, backstory-wise. you did not have to turn this into a freaking horror show with RATS TRYING TO EAT THEIR NEWBORN SELVES jesus christ

and THAT’S where you chose to put a one year timeskip?!

what the fuck am I reading here, you guys. no please tell me, I am actually desperate to understand

so the narrator is saying that some of the quirks manifested later in life, in “pubescent and pre-pubescent stages”, which is interesting because it’s the first time I can recall hearing about someone actually manifesting a quirk that late. maybe Deku’s old OFA cover story was more plausible than I realized

anyway so eventually it occurred to everyone that they should maybe freaking study this shit, idk. and eventually the researchers concluded that the superpowers came from a new gene that apparently isn’t human. and upon hearing that, society apparently lost its freaking mind. which is fascinating to me because it implies that the turning point wasn’t actually the superpowers themselves, but the realization of what it meant

like, so they were apparently fine with it when they thought it was a “mysterious disease”, but somehow it hit different when they learned it wasn’t actually a sickness at all, but instead the Next Step in Evolution. and it became an “us vs them” thing, as opposed to a “we have to cure these poor people” thing. damn

anyway so now Japan is a dystopia and we’re cutting to a big crowd of merc-looking dudes who are getting ready to attack some “meta freaks”, how lovely

but who is this figure in the shadows

I ask politely, as if it wasn’t already beyond obvious that this is AFO about to wreck some people’s shit

ohhhhh my god lmao

hopefully Katsuki and Deku can take the present day AFO out before he winds up looking like this. because this little fella is clearly demonic and idk if anyone can stop him

you all don’t understand. you need to run the fuck away right now

oh shit it’s already too late for them

it’s too late for any of us. it’s over. it’s all fucking over

((((；゜Д゜)))

AFO I am putting the manga down. I am backing away slowly with my hands in the air. I mean you no harm. please for the love of god have mercy

holy

“you see, we told you he wasn’t human” okay Scientific Research Group, you know what?? you win this round I guess

“HE WAS LITERALLY EVIL FROM BIRTH” HORIKOSHI SERIOUSLY ARE YOU OKAY??

HE WAS BORN AN ARROGANT BABY is literally the most terrifying sentence I have ever read

what the entire fuck

it’s a gorgeous sunny mid-November afternoon outside my window. but no matter how hard it tries, the light cannot reach this place

what kind of moron would throw a can of soda at him. officially the stupidest person we have ever seen in this manga

OH MY GOD OF COURSE IT’S HIM LMAO

(ETA: how come baby Yoichi has clothes that fit him perfectly but baby AFO is just stomping around wearing a tablecloth.)

BABY YOICHI. OH MY GOD. HOW THE HELL DID YOU GROW UP TO BE SANE AND KIND AND GOOD. THAT’S MY QUESTION THAT I NEED ANSWERED RIGHT NOW. YOU ARE LITERALLY A MIRACLE. YOU ARE AN IMPOSSIBILITY, DO YOU KNOW THAT

small and weak, but also so, so cute. all of the cuteness genes went straight to him. no wonder AFO was jealous

(ETA: just want to press pause for a second to speculate about what type of twins AFO and Yoichi are, since it has some relevance to the story, and especially to the OFA/AFO quirk lore. so! at first glance the two of them would appear to be fraternal twins, just based on the fact that they have very different appearances, and also the fact that Yoichi doesn’t have the AFO quirk – no holes in his hands, etc. identical twins are born from the same fertilized egg, so in theory they would both have the same sequence of DNA, which means Yoichi would have had the same quirk as AFO. but that doesn’t appear to be the case. so all of that points to them being fraternal, not identical.

on the other hand, there is one piece of evidence in this chapter that does support them being identical twins, and that’s the fact that per the narration, AFO absorbed most of the nutrients from their mother. a few minutes of google fu informed me that this condition is relatively rare, and only happens in cases where two twins share a placenta, which typically is only the case for identical twins. HOWEVER, for what it’s worth, there have also been rare instances where two fraternal twin placentas fuse together and become a single placenta. AND this apparently also increases the chances of one of the twins gaining more of the nutrients and causing the other twin to have a lower birth weight.

so based on the evidence here, my conclusion is that the two of them are most likely fraternal twins with a case of placental fusion. besides, you can’t tell me that stealing his baby brother’s placenta while the two of them are literally still in the womb doesn’t sound like exactly the type of BS that fetus!AFO would pull, lol.)

HEY!?!

okay?!?!?! well to be fair he did throw that soda at him

oh my god this is so fucked up. in like the best and worst way possible

I genuinely couldn’t ask for a better AFO backstory. it’s so incredibly twisted, and you actually do feel sorry for him. or at least I do. but it’s also beyond clear that this kid was FUCKED UP BEYOND ALL REASON right from the get go. zero goodness in him. literally doesn’t see other people as people. sees them as possessions only. things to rule over. not other thinking, feeling human beings. and that includes his own little brother

but. even if it’s not actually what I would call love, there’s still... attachment, there. it’s the closest he can get to actually caring about someone. guh. just, somehow they have both managed to humanize him, and at the same time made him less human than ever. this manga, man. this fucking manga, though

lmao and here we go. Captain Hero

you know, all those times that I made fun of AFO for not knowing how to read, I never suspected that the twist in his backstory would be that he LITERALLY DIDN’T KNOW HOW TO READ dfksjdlfkjslkdf

but seriously though. because Yoichi appears to be self-taught, and I can’t see AFO having the patience for that, and CLEARLY no one else was around to teach him, sooooo...

oh my goodness it’s actually getting wholesome up in here

what a good fucking boy. poor AFO. fuck me, I can’t help it. it’s not your fault you’re the world’s greatest monster you poor bastard

now we’re cutting to THREE YEARS LATER. okay

is he going to declare war on the glowing baby

typical teenager concerned about nothing but likes and view counts. AFO you would be so much happier if you stopped worrying about all of that and just focused on your own growth

oh, lol. well that was quick

(ETA: r.i.p. Damien.)

“this guy had more instagram followers than me. so I killed him” honey. sweetie pie. you need therapy

omfg

all this time I was wondering who AFO’s middle school lit teacher was who had failed so spectacularly at teaching him reading comprehension. and it was YOICHI ALL ALONG. omg

“and, presumably, that’s how it always was and always will be.” dude. can you imagine listening to AFO’s oral book report on A Tale of Two Cities. “ahem. it was the Best of Times. the end” buddy noooooooo

it was at that moment when Yoichi knew, etc. etc.

oh my GOD I scrolled down to the next panel right after this one and I just IMMEDIATELY DIED LAUGHING

“WAS IT SOMETHING I SAID” ffffffffffffffff I fucking can’t omfg

NOW THIS HUSSY IS STEALING HIS BROTHER AWAY FROM HIM NOOOOOOO

HE’S HIS!!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!! THAT’S NOT ALLOWED!!!

oh my god the hands. so wait, is this just the standard symbolic BnHA handholding, or are there More Levels To This. when exactly did Yoichi pass OFA on to Kudou. like is that why the sudden close-up and all that? omg

WHAT!!!!

OH THAT’S THE END, HUH? THAT’S THE END RIGHT THERE, AND THAT’S JUST HOW IT IS. I SEE. OKAY THEN. EXCUSE ME WHILE I PUT MY LAPTOP DOWN AND GO INTO THE NEXT ROOM AND SCREAM INTO A PILLOW

oh my god. and break next week too. this is what you guys have been dealing with this entire time huh. I understand your feelings now. godfuckingdammit lmao

[uriekukistan]

aita for abducting my nephew’s boyfriend and using his body as a vessel? 

i (1000+M) was minding my own business as a set of 20 cursed preserved fingers when some brat (15M) ate one of my fingers to save his friend (15M). i tried to make him my vessel, but he resisted, and ended up being more of a cage than anything. i also realized later that he was also my nephew, but i’ll get to that in a bit. 

i was getting pretty bored in there, since he wouldn’t let me out to massacre local populations, even after eating another one of my fingers, but then i got my opportunity. he asked me for help defeating a powerful curse, so i took advantage of his pathetic state to get out and wreak havoc in the world. i ripped his heart out (literally) for good measure so he couldn’t come back without dying, but that idiot came back anyway and died.

while i was wreaking havoc though, i found out that his little friend had a really cool jujutsu technique! i thought he would be an interesting opponent, but he wasn’t really using it as well as i thought he would :/ i thought it was kinda unfair that he got to have such a cool technique when i could use it better and especially since i’m stuck in this brat’s body who has no technique, so i cooked up a plan to get my hands on it and brought the brat back to life.

some time later, i got the opportunity to massacre civilians again. well, technically, i was exorcising a disaster grade curse i guess. massacring civilians was just an added bonus. well, the brat didn’t take that very well and was saying all this shit about wanting to die, which i thought was kinda ungrateful, since i saved both his life and the life of his boyfriend. granted, i had ulterior motives for both, but still! 

anyway, he somehow figured out that i had a plan for his boyfriend, and he started running away with his half brother (150M). i was especially worried that i lost my chance when this guy (17M) briefly killed my nephew, but he brought him back to life. 

one thing i’ve never understood is love, so i was a bit confused, but relieved, when my nephew’s boyfriend found him and managed to persuade him to help him out with some game my frenemy (1000+X) set up. some super nauseating bullshit about saving him and not being selfish blah blah blah.

i bet a lot of you are wondering how this 15 year old brat is my nephew when i’m 1000 years old, so since i brought up my frenemy, i should just tell you they’re a bit of a weirdo. basically, when i was in the womb, i consumed my twin to survive, but their soul still existed in the universe. somehow, my frenemy got their hands on his soul, and when he was reincarnated a thousand years later, he took over the body of his wife and had a son with him. that’s my nephew. i think they did it just to spite me, but they also helped me cheat death by becoming a curse, so i can’t complain too much.

back to the main point, i finally got my hands on my nephew’s boyfriend and made him my new vessel. i was right! his technique was sick! and the look on that brat’s face was priceless!

it took me a while to break my nephew’s boyfriend down enough to use his body and technique effectively, but it was kind of entertaining to watch, and now i can move freely! the only problem is now i have all these sorcerers swarming around me like flies trying to defeat me, and it’s getting a bit frustrating, if not tiring. every time i think i take one out, another one shows up, or they just stand back up. 

they all seem seem pretty mad at me. i’m not really sure why. first, it’s the right of the strong to prey on the weak. second, it’s not my fault that my nephew wouldn’t just be a good vessel and let me massacre civilians, and it’s also not my fault that his boyfriend had a cool technique. i think i did what anyone would do in this situation. aita?

[notmorbid]

the return [2/2].

dialogue prompts from twin peaks: the return (2017).

i told them if anything happened to me, it was you who did it.

how can you ever love me after what i did?

do you find me attractive?

what do we care about what the government thinks about who we marry? are we going to invite them to the wedding?

i can't stop thinking about last night.

it's true. it's all over the news.

i could throw a car farther than i'd trust that rat fuck.

now i know how brando felt.

you fuck us once, shame on us. you fuck us twice, shame on you.

these days, the glow is dying. what will be in the darkness that remains?

watch and listen to the dream of time and space. it all comes out now, flowing like a river. that which is and is not.

i know there's been trouble in there. we've all heard it.

you're staying with me tonight, okay?

i didn't know it was a gun.

you found something, didn't you?

there's fire where you are going.

can i smoke in here?

but smoking's bad for you.

do you know how good a cigarette would taste with this coffee?

smoke 'em if you got 'em.

i'm in your corner, champ. knock 'em dead.

i wanted to see you again. i've thought of you every day.

i have my life back again.

were you here when they first came?

your room seems different.

i'm trying to tell you that you have to watch out. things can happen. something happened to me.

is somebody in the house?

it's a goddamn bad story, isn't it?

if you need any help --- if you need anything --- i want you to call, okay? i mean it. help of any kind.

sometimes i really worry about you.

we don't have time for torture. i'm hungry.

what's on your mind tonight? you know i'm gonna tell you what's on mine.

the ninth level of hell will welcome you.

what kind of shit are you?

if you went missing, would you want people finishing their fucking homework before they looked for you?

you are nothing but a spineless, no-balls loser.

what fucking crystal ball are you looking into?

when you didn't come home last night, i thought the worst.

looks like we got ourselves a new contestant here.

what do i get if i win?

hope there's no murders this weekend.

you know you're not supposed to come here.

i need to know a good poison i could use. undetectable.

it makes me sick just to look at you.

i haven't slept in weeks. i've vomited blood. i can't live like this. i only want to die or change.

sit your butt down. it's no good eating alone.

love doesn't always turn a profit.

i love your show so much. you have done so much for me.

do you like it? do you really like it?

i feel like i'm somewhere else. have you ever had that feeling?

it's like i'm somewhere else and somebody else.

i always feel like myself. it may not always be the best feeling.

i'm not sure who i am, but i'm not me.

who am i supposed to trust but myself? and i don't even know who i am.

i want to stay, and i want to go. i want to do both.

we are like the dreamer who dreams and then lives inside the dream. but who is the dreamer?

who do you think that is there?

what happened to us back there?

it's my birthday. you gotta tell me the story.

it wasn't meant to be polite.

do you really want to fuck with this?

call 911. we got a dead one at the bar.

nice sweater. where'd you lift that?

i've been a selfish bitch to you all these years, and you've been a saint.

true love is giving the other what makes them happy.

i'll have a cup of coffee. and a cyanide tablet.

i thought you told me you didn't have any family.

oh. it's you.

i don't have your number.

you got a death wish?

it's like all our dreams are coming true.

the old team together again. nothing can stop us.

you know about death. that it's just a change, not an end.

there's some fear in letting go.

remember what i told you. i can't say more over the phone.

you're such a whiner. it's like being with a sick dog.

i just never really saw you before, the way i'm seeing you now. it's like i'm meeting a different person. who are you?

you hear that bird this morning?

i came as soon as i heard.

i will not soon forget your kindness and decency.

move over. i'll drive.

you've made my heart so full.

you'll see me soon. i'll walk through that door and i'll be home for good.

you've gone soft in your old age.

if i disappear like the others, do everything you can to find me.

i know you understand, but i'm still sorry.

the past dictates the future.

[name]. the one and only.

do you remember everything?

i hope i see all of you again. every one of you.

see you at the curtain call.

is it you? is it really you?

once we cross, it could all be different.

please don't try to find me.

i don't recognize you anymore.

usually, somebody like you comes around, i tell 'em to fuck off.

i gotta get out of dodge. it's a long story.

i tried to keep a clean house. keep everything organized.

in those days, i was too young to know any better.

sorry to bother you so late at night.

what year is this?

[merlins-strawberriesandroses]

TO be honest. I don’t understand what it means when people say Merlin was Arthur’s bane. Mayhaps I misunderstand but. Arthur was a bit of an assassination magnet (not to mention all those magical creatures and bandits... so many bandits), and Merlin actively prevented Arthur's death for years, which would have occured without him anway in the very first episode. I can see why one might argue that Merlin was just delaying the inevitable, or that he didn't succeed in keeping Arthur safe until Arthur could enact the golden age, but certainly I don’t see how he could have been Arthur’s bane.

Also, it’s implied in the last episode that the golden age does occur, but under Guinevere. Which makes sense as she knew Merlin was the sorcerer and that she was pleased about it (and I recall it was confirmed in interviews), so I also don’t follow the twin train of thought that Merlin was his own bane or even Camelot’s. Camelot was already bane-d(?) under Uther. But partly because of Merlin's steady friendship, Arthur matured into a king who was kinder than his father. He also actively sought magic's aid on multiple occasions, so he knew magic had potential for good (like healing his queen) without Merlin needing to tell him about his magic.

I don't think it's fair to say Camelot's laws on magic remaining relatively static was because no one close to Arthur came out as having magic. There was still much risk in that, and for Merlin a lot at stake, not just his life. A law change was still possible (and almost seemed to be set up that way) without Arthur needing someone he was personally close to having to do the work to humanize it for him (in the sense that the episodes with the druids, the druid boy with Elyan, and the dolma seemed like they were pointing to a law change because Arthur sees the diversity of magic and those who have it).

At worst Merlin’s efforts didn’t change the status quo, but we do have things indicating that they did. And Merlin was not single-mindedly serving Arthur at the expense of everyone else. He saved Camelot as a whole multiple times. He was also very willing to stick out his neck for many others even during the height of his anxiety and agitation in season 5. (Also only being slightly silly when I say this, but he was also THE wingman for Arthur when he was getting with Gwen, so in a way Merlin’s help led to their courting being a success and thus contributed to her being in a great position to change the laws. so personally I give points to Merlin for that). Most of the decisions centering Arthur's safety seemed to stem from the fear that Albion would crumble before it began if Arthur were to die, so he tried his best to prevent that from happening in any way he knew. (Like, when Arthur is dying, Merlin asks "So I failed?" regarding the whole golden age thing, which I think is telling that the prophesy and his role in it was still VERY much at the forefront of Merlin's mind).

And this is a digression but I know people think Merlin should have done more for Camelot, or for folks with magic (like, as a revolutionary or something akin), which I understand but no one reached out to network with him really? It'd require resources, people (always confused why there weren't a whole bunch more folks offering Merlin material/intellectual/emotional support if they thought he should be the one to bring about the golden age. all he was told was that the forseen way it actually happens succesfully is through Arthur), time (I doubt it’d have been much of a ‘quicker’ way necessarily), and incredible planning + foresight if it's meant to be something that works out effectively + long-term. Okay I think I've digressed enough now. This is a whole seperate thought that I don't think I'm gonna do any justice here lol, and I'm already rambling, so I'll stop now :,)

But anyway, in terms of being his own or Arthur’s bane, we know Arthur will return, and we don’t know how Merlin spent his years. His magic can play with time and maybe he learns how to control that, or he could have entered a stasis like in various legends, etc etc etc. And I mean it is tragic on many levels, and it’s sad we didn’t see Arthur’s arc completed, and that Merlin sacrificed so much for a goal that didn't get much acknowledgment by the show at the end, but still. I don’t think Merlin was Arthur’s bane, or Camelot’s, or his own.

[tange-my-rine]

find yourself (and me) || Tangerine x trans male!reader

Summary: You knew Tangerine well, you'd fallen in love with the guy. But when a mission goes wrong and you fake your death, he can't know a word of it. And when you finally transition after years of wishing, you can hardly even imagine running into him again. If you thought you might, you'd run the opposite way. But fate had different plans.

Request by @random-thoughts-004.

TW: mention of deadname (it's like your codename but like still), fake death, grief, blood, wounds, murder, guns, knives, scars, cursing (it's Tangerine), and all things bullet train.

[[A/N: Thanks for my first request !!! I hope I did it justice! Enjoy this slowburn and kinda angst riddled oneshot. Reader's first codename is Butterfly. Second is Beetle. (You work with Ladybug's agency.) ]]

The first time you met Tangerine was one of your first jobs ever. You remember it so well because well, the twins made it memorable. They made everything memorable, you'd come to realize but not now.

It was a gala, and you were dressed well -fancy even, with hair perfectly in place and shiny fabric cascading.

The job was an easy one, getting your feet wet and whatnot; not that you hadn't wanted the harder ones, it was just like a test run for your agency -seeing if you could do it. Which, with your experience, was kind of ridiculous but you didn't want to get into it right now.

All you needed was information from a man, some sort of billionaire -you weren't honestly sure. The location of someone else, his brother... cousin? You knew his name and that was all that mattered.

You finished your drink, and with a walk that could kill, you made your way to the floor. He was talking to some men (tall with bleached tips, and another one broad shoulders with a mustache), but you simply pushed yourself through.

His eyes, naturally, rested on you, and you used it toward your advantage.

"Hi," you smiled over the rim of your glass, fluttering your eyelashes for good measure, "-do you mind if I interrupt? I've been dying to talk to you all day."

The man, Richard you remembered, smiled smoothly, "'Course, honey. We can always pick up this conversation later."

With a glance toward the men, you pushed your arm into his and began walking away.

You had felt the eyes boring into your back at the time, but you didn't think anything of it. You probably should have, but to be fair this was a test run, was it not?

The man guided you to a balcony, empty with the night sky and stars twinkling. You would've thought it was pretty, if you didn't have an objective.

"Name's Richard," he spoke, still close by your side, "-what's yours, sweetheart?"

Swallowing the bile in your mouth (he really wasn't your type), you smirked -playfully, trailing your fingers onto his upper arm, "I prefer to be a mystery to the men I meet, Richard."

He grinned, it was working well, "I'm not the first then?"

The rest of your conversation was much of the same, low chats about things that didn't really matter -hobbies, jobs, etc. And when you casually mentioned family, it was smooth sailing.

"Got a cousin visiting one of my houses down in Miami, but I haven't seen the rest in years."

You weaseled out the name, and with a cunning smile, went to refill your drink. He'd said he'd have someone do it for you, but you said something about 'clingy already?' and his masculinity came in check.

Your job was done. You were 30 minutes from getting home, out of these heels, and watching your favorite show with the emptiness of your apartment. These kinds of crowds were exhausting, you needed it.

That was until hands shot out of a closet and pulled you in so fast you couldn't even scream-

"What the hell?"

The light was on, thank god, as you took in the man. He was broad shoulders from before, dressed in a fancy suit -three piece, with curly gelled back hair and blue eyes. Oh, and the mustache. He was your type.

You shimmied out of his grip, pushing yourself to the farthest wall, "What are you doing?! You can't just pull women into closets-"

"Who fuckin' sent you?" He uttered out, harsh and brash -british accent, your mind noted.

"Sent me?" You played dumb, "-This is a gala, I was invited, prick."

"Don't fuckin' lie to me," he hissed, pulling out a gun and suddenly, this was all very real.

"Jesus Christ," you raised your hands, "-why the hell does it matter?"

"You're after my hit," he clarified, like it was fact -pushing the gun further into your face.

"Yeah, no," you laughed, "-my job here was information. I literally just talked to him, if you paid any attention to your surroundings-"

"Awfully snappy for someone with a fuckin' gun in your face," he retorted, but you could tell that his frustration had significantly lessened.

"Shoot me then," you egged on, "-lose your cover, and your target, and shoot me."

His mouth flattened, eyes hardening, as the realization slipped over his features; you loved being right.

Gotcha.

With the speed of a snail, he lowered his gun -jaw muscle flexing. You could tell he was pissed that you were right. This was fun, you would've stayed all night to get on his nerves, if this dress didn't make you feel like your skin was peeling off.

In very different circumstances, you would've been glad to be trapped in a closet with him. But, we can't always get what we want, can we?

Without another word, you slipped out of the closet and made your way to the door. And when you got home you scrubbed your skin clean until the flowery scent of your perfume went away (it made you sick), but that was nobody's business but your own.

The second time you met him was very different. Your job was a hit, a CEO of some fancy business -you didn't really care. You'd posed as some meeting for him -after hours, it was actually really simple to get this guy alone.

Anyway, you had just shot a bullet through his head when the door came crashing open -easily, you switched targets.

Instead of some innocent, however, it was the man -still wearing a three piece suit and the same mustache. He wore it well though, so you couldn't blame him.

"Not you again," you groaned.

"What the hell are you doin' 'ere?" He replied eyes scrunched and eyebrow raised.

"My job?" You answered, still pointing the gun at him without hesitation.

He raised his hands, begrudgingly, and looked you over, "You 'ere for a hit?"

You kicked the body at your feet, sarcastically, "Ya think?"

His eyes flicked down to the man, before back up to you, "Lucky for you, I'm just 'ere for a drive. You let me go, we call it even?"

You pursed your lips, tilting your head to the side -thinking on it, "Fine, but if I see you again it's fair game."

"Can't fuckin' wait, love," he remarked, and you honestly weren't sure if it was all sarcasm. Huh.

"Butterfly," you said as an introduction.

He furrowed his brows for a moment before a wave of understanding crossed over his face, "Tangerine."

Needless to say, you left that building laughing your ass off.

The next time after that you met Lemon, and then suddenly you were a trio. You switched agencies and were constantly partnered for missions, and even when you weren't, they'd follow you and keep an eye out for you. Even when you told them that you could handle it, they still showed up (Lemon always blamed Tangerine).

You don't know when Tangerine started shifting in your head -from friend to... something else. A scary something else. But you think it started here.

You were in a safe house, one you'd crashed in a lot actually. An apartment in the city with three bedrooms and a fancy kitchen, you could picture it as a home if you thought about it long enough. Couldn't see it without Tangerine and Lemon anymore though.

It was late, and you were watching some late-night reruns of a show you'd never seen -it was some sort of love triangle, and you somehow already had a favorite actually. You couldn't sleep, it was just something in your head -nightmares. You had close calls before and tonight was one of them; you wanted to be alive a little bit longer because of it.

"Hey," the voice interrupted your haze, drawing your attention to your right.

It was Tangerine, he was wearing normal clothes -baggy sweatpants and a t-shirt with his hair ungelled (you were still getting used to it). Blue eyes flickered across you, he could read you really well -you hated it.

He didn't ask if you were okay, didn't have to he knew, just sat by your side on the couch -you offered him some blanket. He took it, closer into your side than he was before -it made your head spin just a little. You figured because you hadn't been so close to someone in so long.

Before you could stop yourself, you started talking, "You ever think about what your life would be like if we didn't do what we do?"

It was sleepy coming out of your mouth, slightly slurred, but still genuine. You always got a little talkative around him, you weren't sure entirely why.

Tangerine deflected, blue eyes fuzzy over your face (you weren't looking at him), "Do you?"

"Yeah," you muttered, low and quiet, "-all the time."

"What would you do?" he asked, and he was genuine -you could always tell when he wanted to listen.

"I think..." you started, trying to decide your words, "- I think I'd want to be married. Is that stupid?"

"'s not stupid, love," he spoke, soft with his gruff sleep voice.

"It'd be nice, I think," you hummed, perhaps saying too much but you didn't care then, "-forever with one person. With this job, you're always alone. Jumping from place to place, partner to partner. I think it'd be nice to have somebody who was always there."

Tangerine didn't say a word.

"The real question is if I'm marriable," you laughed, "-do you think I have enough positive characteristics for someone to marry me, Tan?"

It was kind of a joke, and you expected him to respond that way. He didn't.

"Yeah," he whispered, dead serious, "-I do."

You were taken aback a little bit, something unfurling in your chest that you hadn't quite named yet but you knew it now, "You think so?"

He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer -your head settling on his shoulder without hesitation. You stayed that way for a few moments, breathing in his cologne and shampoo -he smelt so good, how?

"Someone would marry you," he finally responded -something there in his voice but you couldn't name it, "-'d be fuckin' stupid not to."

It was going great, really great. Until it wasn't.

You can't even remember the mission now, but it was one that the twins followed you in on. You convinced them to wait out in the car, you could handle this.

And while you were, your earcon went off -static voice in your ear. You had to strain to hear it, but once you did, you wished you hadn't. It was Maria, your previous handler -you had no idea how she got your connection, actually. It didn't matter then, the voice echoing through your head.

"Butterfly, listen to me, you have to get out of there."

"Maria?" you questioned, slamming a guy's head into a wall, "-'Would love to catch up but I'm a little busy right now-"

"Butterfly, listen. You are in danger."

"Aren't I always?" you laughed, sliding a blade across another guy's neck -he sunk to the floor.

"I got intel on a manhunt for you, the White Death is looking for you. You are not safe, listen to me."

You stalled in place, your heart dropping to your stomach, breathless, "What?"

"He's been surveying your safe house. He knows what job you're on, you have to get out of there now."

One of them rushed you from behind, you promptly elbowed his throat and he let you go -you spun on your heel and shot him square in the head. It was on instinct, your brain was running a thousand miles a minute.

"I can't hide from a guy like him, Maria," you spoke, a sort of shake in your tone, "-he'll find me. He'll find the twins-"

"Listen to me," she repeated, "-we have a plan, but it's not going to be easy."

"Yeah," you sighed, "-okay. I've got nothing to lose, right?"

"There's a car on the westside of the building, you need to head that way and-"

"Maria," you thought of the twins, "-I already have a ride."

"I want you to listen to me very carefully, you are not making it out of this building alive."

"Jesus," you laughed, "-have a little faith in me-"

"Butterfly, you are not making it out of this building alive."

"I am," you replied, "-I don't know what you're thinking but I'm perfectly capable."

"You, Butterfly, are not making it out of this building alive. Are you listening?"

"I don't-"

"As far as anyone knows, you are dead. As far as the White Death knows, you are dead."

"Oh," you responded, softly, "-this is... I'm... What about the twins?"

"They can't know. The White Death will be surveying them for months after, if they don't play the part-"

"They would," you ushered out, tears burning at the backs of your eyes, "-they... They could not see me for awhile but they would know-"

"I'm sorry, but if you're actually going to stay alive, they can't know. The White Death is smart, he knows how close the three of you are. If they know, he'll know."

"Please," you whispered, you felt like you couldn't breathe, "-without them... You don't know what it'll put them through, Maria, I can't-"

"I'm sorry."

Tears fell before you could stop them, heavy and your throat felt like it was closing up (good god, you couldn't breathe). You stumbled to the window, eyes catching on the car that waited for you by the entrance -if you squinted you could see them, you just wanted to see them again. Even if it was the last time-

"Butterfly, breathe, I need you to focus, okay? For them and you."

"Will you tell them first, before... before anyone else? They deserve to-" your voice cracked, "-They deserve to know first."

"Of course."

You swallowed, gasping for a breath and desperately wiping at your eyes -it felt like you were suffocating. Even still, you righted yourself -for the twins.

"What do you need from me?"

"Leave your phone and something they would know you wouldn't leave behind. They have to... They have to believe it."

With a shaky breath, you threw your phone to the floor -it cracked, but you didn't care. You scanned over yourself, digging into your pockets for something -anything. And then you remembered, the scratching on the fabric -it was your bracelet.

It was a gift from the twins, a simple charm bracelet with one single charm: a butterfly.

You remembered when they gave it to you, you promising to keep it on every day. It was the best gift you'd ever been given-

Hands shaking, you unclasped it -watching as it clattered to the ground, butterfly looking up at you. With another breath, you pulled your knife out of your pocket -three initials carved into the handle. Something in you cracked then as you looked at it, a little shrine to you -this is what they'd see. When they were told you were dead, they'd see this. That was... That was it.

You couldn't stay here anymore.

"Maria," you swallowed, blinking back as many tears as you could, "-where's the car?"

The next 4 years were a lot. You'd finally become yourself, a man, and you lived out in a small little cabin in the woods. You lived next to a teeny-tiny town where everyone knew each other, and you made your life there.

It was a sunny day when a car pulled up to your home -a fancy, expensive one. You knew it well, it dropped you off here all that time ago. Maria.

She smiled when she saw you, skimming over you -she knew about the transition but she hadn't seen you since before, "You look good, happier."

"Thanks," you smiled, leading her into your home. She was well aware of your home, every few years, she visited. Told you things, about the twins -their successes, their failures. They were infamous now. Sometimes it felt like you were there again, you could close your eyes and smell Tangerine's cologne and see Lemon's smile-

"I have some news," Maria started leaning against your countertop -she was always so rigid, all business.

"Yeah?" you smiled, "-What did they do now?"

"The White Death is dead," she spoke -frank and direct.

Something in your shoulders lifted, tears burning the back of your eyes -it had been so long, "Did they...?"

You knew very little about what she told them then, but you do know it had to do with the White Death. You knew they'd try and avenge you one day, it was just in their blood. You hoped they had peace now.

"A few people did," she clarified, "-remember the bullet train I talked about last week?"

"Yeah, you had Ladybug on that one, right?" you asked, you knew of the guy -never met him.

"The twins were there," she hummed, "-Turned out to be planned by him. He was going to kill them all by the end of the line."

"But they survived?" you asked.

"They did," she assured, before pausing for a moment, "-I'm here to ask you something."

You pursed your lips, something catching in your chest, "I can't see them, Maria-"

"That's not-" she started, before clearing her throat, "-I want to ask if you want back in."

"Into... work again?" You asked, curious.

"Yes," she said, laying it all out, "-We have a spot open, you'd be under me. We can start out with small jobs-"

"Isn't this what we planned? All that time ago?"

"We did," Maria confirmed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, "-but, you've been here so long. Your plans can change, you know. You could live a normal life."

You thought back to that conversation that late night with Tangerine. You had wanted it then. At the time, you didn't know who you wanted it with but now... you did. And that... that wasn't happening.

But going back to work, that was familiar, that felt normal. You'd be yourself again. You hadn't felt that way fully since that day, but you could achieve it now. Mostly.

"Okay," you responded, "-I'm in."

That is what brought you here in some office building for a drive under the name, Beetle. Well, you weren't alone. A couple of months ago, you'd been at a meeting of the agency -Maria had requested you come. You'd said something a little bit snappy and from the back, a guy with blonde hair, glasses, and a huge smile, had yelled, "I like this guy!"

That was your introduction to Ladybug, and he'd immediately requested to be your partner to Maria. He even threw in some 'pretty-please's, you'd laughed really hard that day -you hadn't in a long time. And with a little hope of some normalcy, you agreed.

Now this was pretty run of the mill, you'd worked with Ladybug to know most of his quirks -like forgetting literally everything as soon as you stepped into the building, and not wanting to kill people on Wednesdays ('My therapist says I need to start taking care of myself, this is me doing that, Beetle.').

"Listen," you turned to him, "-just keep the guy distracted, I will find the drive."

"Hey," he mumbled, eating some kind of finger food, "-Aren't we supposed to be a team? What was it that Maria said-"

"Ladybug," you sighed, he could really annoy you, "-firstly, you know she never says anything in your favor-" he nodded at that in agreement, "-secondly, do you even remember what you had for breakfast this morning?"

He paused, squinting his eyes.

"Exactly," you pointed out, "-so I will go find the drive, and you go... mingle."

"I don't wanna mingle," he nearly whined, "-I should've retired after the bullet train."

You froze for a moment, at the mention, before coming back down to earth, "You can do that after we do this, yeah?"

"Oh," he waved his hand with a grin, "-you know I could never leave you, Beetle."

You smiled then, "I know. Now, go, seriously-"

"Yeah, alright," he swatted you, "I'm going-"

With that, you slipped over to the elevator -squeezing past a few stray people and pressing the top floor. Luckily, it was some sort of company party, so every office was unattended. You, yourself, needed the top office, so out of respect for your knees -you'd decided to use the elevator.

You would later wildly regret this decision.

Around the fifth floor, it stopped. You fully prepped yourself for some stray office worker, probably holding a two-liter to bring downstairs and the awkward conversation that would ensue. Instead, it was much, much worse.

Because in front of that door stood Lemon, tips still bleached and dressed in a casual suit -the same kind he always used to wear. Your heart was in your throat, so you casually arranged your tie -trying not to let your voice come out squeaky.

"What floor?" You offered.

He didn't say a word, was just staring for a moment -brown eyes solid on you like he was reading you. You knew you looked different, and even sounded different but you still thought maybe-

"Seventh, thank you," he smiled, sauntering up to your side.

You smiled with a nod, and pressed the button.

The silence was unbearable, and you were certainly going to give Maria an earful when you got back because this. Was. Not. Supposed. To. Happen.

That was literally your one clause for this work-

"Do I know you?" Lemon asked, looking at you questioningly, "-I feel like I've seen you somewhere before. You're so familiar-"

Your tongue was quicker than your brain, "I'm Carl, Mr. Madison's assistant?"

He pursed his lips, like he was trying to believe it.

"I work on the third floor, mostly," you lied through your teeth -it was just keeping cover, "-maybe you saw me there?"

"Yeah," he settled, still eyeing you weirdly, "-probably."

The rest of the ride was silent, just before he stepped off, "Carl, if ya see an uptight guy in a suit with a mustache, tell 'im I'm on seventh, will ya?"

You instinctively nodded, and as the doors slipped shut -your brain started screaming. Of course, Tangerine was here. God, you could handle Lemon, but-

You pressed your com on, hissing out, "Maria-"

"Yeah, Beetle, what's going on? Everything okay?"

"The twins are here," you spoke -tone wavering, your breaths felt shallow like you weren't getting enough no matter how hard you tried.

"Oh shit."

"Wow," you came back to earth for a moment, "-that's the first time I've heard you lose your cool. Too bad I'm losing my mind-"

"Beetle, listen to me, okay? They don't know who you are. You look different, you sound different."

"I know," you let a breath out, "-I just. I never wanted to see them again. I don't... I don't deserve to."

"Beetle, we've talked about this."

"I know," you took a breath in, "-I know. It's just a lot."

"Is Ladybug there with you?"

"No," you spoke, like it was obvious, "-he can hardly remember his name sometimes, Maria-"

"I'll tell him there's an emergency. Send him up to you."

"But there isn't?" You countered, hand slipping up to run through your hair.

"If the twins are there for the same thing, there's about to be."

With that, you were on the top floor. You kept your eyes peeled -fancy shoes clopping along the tile. You'd always wanted a pair, but now you felt like a prick, honestly.

You figured if Tangerine was anywhere he was here, or shuffled into the party. That was if you had the same motivation.

Which was probably your best bet.

Somehow, you made it to the office in one piece. No peering blue eyes anywhere or accents melting into your ears, you were alone. Huh, maybe you were lucky.

You shuffled through some drawers, scattering paperwork and knocking a tin of paperclips over. It really didn't matter, the man would notice the USB gone anyway so no need for it to look like someone hadn't stolen it. With the drawers, you came up empty-handed.

You pursed your lips, before brushing your fingers along the top shelf of the bookshelf, maybe it was hidden? Nope.

You spun on your toes, before your eyes landed on the laptop. It was literally plugged into his laptop, out in the open.

"Idiots," you mumbled, before pocketing it with the slip of your hand.

Ready to go and fetch Ladybug, your job was done-

"Give me the fuckin' drive," his voice bounced around your head, and you very nearly cracked your neck spinning around to see him.

The first thing was the gun in your face, which was familiar, actually.

You raised your hands in surrender, instinctively muttering, "Jesus Christ."

He stalled for a minute when his eyes met your face like he was processing something -you thought out of anyone he would recognize you. The gun faltered in his hand as his eyebrows crept together into a furrow, confused.

You washed over him too, his hair was slightly longer and he was stronger -you could tell. His mustache was the same, and the suit too, just tighter. But along his neck, right at the collarbone was a nasty scar -it was new, fresh, you could tell. A couple of months at most.

"Look, I'm just Mr. Madison's assistant," you started, your voice shaking but it actually helped you here, "-I don't know what you're talking about."

"Do you think I'm fuckin' stupid?" He countered, frustrated again, but there was still something skewed in his face, "-I saw you slip it in your pocket."

"Right," you swallowed, "-glass doors."

He leaned forward, the gun doing the same. And you heard the jingle of his necklace, the one he always wore -something from his childhood he said, but there was another sound, another noise. Before you could think any better, your eyes dipped to it.

The butterfly charm.

Your heart stalled in your chest.

He had the butterfly charm, your butterfly charm, around his neck. The silver was stark against the gold, so you really couldn't have missed it -how long has he been wearing that?

A sob trickled up the back of your throat, but you held it back -blinking away tears.

"Look," you echoed, voice heavy with wear -you wouldn't cry, not now, "-we can work this out."

"I said," he stepped forward, and you could smell his cologne -it was still the same, "-give me the fuckin' drive."

You didn't move.

"Do you want a fuckin' bullet in your head, love?" He asked, his face getting redder, but there was still something in his eyes -he was hesitating. He never hesitates.

Not... not at work. He pulls the trigger and is done but he's hesitating-

Your heart pounding in your chest, you stood your ground -digging your heels in, "Shoot me. You can take it off my corpse, just shoot me."

Tangerine frowned, something in his face flickering between your eyes -you knew he saw you, but you didn't know how he did. Did he think it was just a coincidence? Did he know? Did he think he was hallucinating?

He opened his mouth, but before he could say a word -Lemon walked in with a gun pressed to his temple. Your eyes caught on Ladybug's and he visibly seemed to relax at the sight of you breathing.

"For old times sake," he spoke, "-you give me my guy, I give you yours."

"You almost fuckin' killed me," Tangerine seethed through his teeth, "-why should I 'ave any leniency?"

Oh, you thought, that scar was from Ladybug?

"He's got a point 'ere," Lemon replied, rather plainly. You wanted to laugh.

Ladybug paused, "I said I was sorry, I thought we were past that, guys! We killed the White Death together, remember?"

Both of them froze, tense and lips twitching. Was that... Was that because of you?

"Oh, right, sorry," Ladybug recanted, "-sensitive subject."

It was. Something in your chest panged, you'd never thought you'd see it firsthand. You never wanted to-

You stopped the train of thought, hissing to Ladybug, "You are not helping here, you know that?"

"I'm trying my best," he practically whined back, "-you try reasoning with these guys! It's like talking to two brick walls-"

"Ladybug," you chastised.

"Right, sorry," he repeated.

You sighed, leveling to look at them, "Look, I'll give you guys the drive, okay? Just let us go. I'll get him out of here."

Tangerine softened just a smidge -blue eyes matching yours, you may have looked different but your eyes stayed the same. You knew that, and you hoped somewhere in him, he recognized them or they reminded him or anything-

Because if they didn't, you weren't making it out of here alive.

Wordlessly, Tangerine put his gun down and held out his hand. So he did see it.

Ladybug's eyes nearly bulged out of his head, he was clearly not expecting him to relent. But then again, you weren't either.

You pulled it from your pocket, dropping it into his open hand -careful not to touch him, you couldn't do that to yourself.

"Ladybug," you spoke, motioning for him to follow, "-Let's go. We'll tell Maria on the way."

He did as such, giving the gun back to Lemon, and slowly following you out of the door -back turned to the outside, keeping watch.

"Did you-" Tangerine interrupted, stalling the two of you in your path -your heartbeat quickened in your chest, as he turned to look at you, only you, "-Did you know Butterfly?"

"Everyone knows Butterfly," Ladybug responded, "-she's a legend, even for our agency."

He didn't react to his response, only solidly looking at you, Lemon too. You felt like every move you made was outing you, revealing you. That they would realize and hate you and never understand-

"I never knew her personally," you answered, swallowing, "-Just... Just stories."

And with that, you spun on your heel and walked out the door -Ladybug following dutifully behind. You felt their eyes on you every step until you turned back around in the elevator.

You didn't do a job for quite awhile after that. Ladybug, following your lead, took a break too -said something about meditating. You didn't listen, you couldn't.

All you could see was that charm hanging on his necklace -right next to his heart. Did Lemon have your knife? Did they split them?

The next few months were boring, Maria kept calling you and you kept telling her you were okay, you just needed some time. She even sent Ladybug on you a couple of times, but even he could tell you weren't at your best. He just kept recommending things his therapist said, you appreciated it, really, even though it didn't help at all.

When you finally got back to work, Maria sent you as a solo -Ladybug was something you had to limit after a while. All you had to do was get a package before it was delivered, simple.

You didn't know why god seemed to hate you.

You were posed as a delivery truck driver, you even had the truck, the outfit, and the lift. It was something you genuinely enjoyed and everything should've gone perfectly.

It should have been as easy as walking in and walking back out.

That was not the case.

You arrived at the hotel lobby, dressed in the uniform and smiling at the front desk. Politely asking for the boxes you needed, something about office supplies or pillows or something. The hotel had too much of it. All you had to do, was get the package and sneak it in with the others.

"Can I run to your bathroom?" You asked with a smile -you had to get out of the lobby somehow.

"Of course," she smiled, bright and beautiful, "-There's one down that hallway and to the right."

You followed those directions, and then decisively took off into the bathroom -despite it not being a part of the plan. Somewhere in the back of your head, you noted that someone was definitely following you. It was a shadow in the back of your eye, but you still saw it.

So when the door opened behind you, you raised your fist and-

Stopped.

Tangerine stood there, eyes wide as your fist was mere inches from his face. He was wearing a coat, maybe like a trenchcoat, that was brown and gave his whole outfit something entirely different.

"What the hell?" You hissed out, lowering your fist, "-What are you doing here? Following me?"

Tangerine seemed to pause for a moment, before wiping his hand over his mouth, "I'm stayin' 'ere, saw ya out in the lobby. This isn't... It's not a job. I'm not 'ere to... to hurt you."

"Did you just want to say hi?!" You asked, sarcastically -this could not be happening again, "-Last time I saw you, you had a gun pointed at my head. Forgive me for being afraid."

He licked his lips, and you noticed it then, something was very off. He wasn't angry, no, he looked exhausted like he hadn't slept in days; his eyes were red and puffy like he had been crying. Had he been crying?

"Um," you started, trying to act normal, "-is everything okay...?"

"Tangerine," he finished for you.

"Beetle," you offered in response, before repeating, "-Seriously, is everything okay? Should I call your... your partner?"

"You knew 'er," he interrupted, voice worn.

"Knew who?" You questioned, squeezing your nails into your palm -you knew where this was going.

"Butterfly," he clarified, "-you fuckin' knew 'er, you had to."

"Look, Tangerine," you replied, "-I already told you-"

He interrupted you again, quietly letting out a wet sort of chuckle, "You even say it like 'er."

"Say what?"

"My name," he bit at his lip, gnawing at it, really, "-you say it the exact same way, and I... I fuckin' remember that, so you knew 'er."

You were speechless for a moment, before settling yourself -trying to stay away from this, "Do... Do you need to talk for a minute? Or?"

"Are you 'er brother?" He asked, something heavy in his gaze, "-It's the only solution I can think of, and it's drivin' me fuckin' mad. I have to know-"

"Why would I say I don't know her if I'm her brother?"

"I don't fuckin' know," he breathed out, hands running through his hair, "-are you afraid of the White Death? What he... he did to 'er? He's dead, very dead. You can say you know 'er-"

"But, I don't," you offered, a little weaker.

"You do," he replied simply, "-you fuckin' 'ave to, you look just like 'er. You can't- I can't... Just tell me the truth."

"I'm not her brother," you repeated, it was the only thing you could say.

"Did she ever say anythin' about me? About... About Lemon?" He continued, his voice scratchy and eyes blinking so fast you knew he was holding back tears -your stomach churned.

"Tangerine," you sighed out, "-I don't know what to-"

He interrupted you again, hand pulling on his necklace, the charm, "'s hers, you were starin' at it the other day. 'Was her bracelet, but I think ya know 'at."

"Look," you swallowed, heavily, "-I can't do this now, I'm on a job. We can talk later, though, if you need to."

You ended up finding the box in ten minutes and leaving without another word.

By the time, you were ready for missions again -you were half convinced you wanted to just go back to the cabin, and live your life there. Away from mustaches and feelings and fear, you could enjoy yourself -listen to birds, observe nature, even.

Maria even offered it, after the last trip, she'd smiled at you in the solemn way she did and offered you the home back, the life back.

You thoroughly debated it for a few days but wanted to feel like yourself again and this was the closest you'd get, ever.

You loved him, and this was the closest thing you'd get to him. It was all you had.

Even if he did love you, you were... different now and you couldn't imagine that would be okay with him. You didn't let yourself.

The next time you saw the twins, you decided to embrace it -try and be as close as you could. If they figured it out and left you in the dust, so be it. You wanted them in your life.

It was another solo mission, Ladybug was in one of those 'I'm going to quit and move to Costa Rico' phases of his career and you didn't exactly want to cozy up with anybody else.

Maria understood, and sent you alone.

It was a hit, some guy with a big life insurance policy -his wife hired you, apparently. He was a loner, and didn't go much of anywhere, so you were to stage a robbery and simply kill him in the kerfuffle. Or, at least make it look like that.

The job was so easy that you'd taken to the city afterward -you wanted to live a normal life for a minute, and after it all, you ended up in a bar. A sort of quiet one with a wooden bar and dim lights -the only people in there being men watching football games, and even they did say much of a word.

It was calm, peaceful.

You heard the door jingle, you knew the sound but assumed it was a normal person -sipping on your drink in your booth alone, away from prying eyes. You didn't exactly want any company, not really, but you ended up with some.

The steps of fancy shoes, it was ingrained in your brain, only getting louder -you thought maybe someone was going to sit close to you. Until they abruptly stopped at your side, you promptly turned your head -eyes peering over your drink.

Tangerine stood there in much better shape, blue eyes focused gently onto you (not red and puffy) and hair perfectly gelled back. He was wearing the blue suit that matched his eyes really well -you'd told him it was his best one once.

"Tangerine," you hummed, sipping your drink, "-weird seeing you here."

He paused, eyes flicking over you for a moment -maybe taking in your outfit, just the same as you did. Before muttering out, "'Ere's a safe house nearby, me and Lemon are stayin' 'ere."

You knew that one, the three of you stayed there a couple of times but then again, where hadn't the three of you stayed?

You pondered over that for a moment, before speaking, "You can sit down, you know, I won't bite."

He seemed to tense up.

"Unless you do," you clarified with a bit of a smile, "-in which I retract my statement."

His lips quirked for a second, as he slid into the booth across from you, "'M off the clock."

"Ah," you nodded your head, "-lucky for you, me too."

"Lucky for me?" He asked, it all seemed so natural -you knew he'd ask questions about it later.

"I'm a good fight," you shrugged, "-what can I say?"

"I imagine," he laughed, and something in your chest swirled -you missed that.

He sat in silence for a moment, tapping his fingers against the table, as you messed with the napkin you had. It wasn't uncomfortable, not really, (you didn't think it would ever be) but there was still something hanging over the two of you.

"Look," he said, suddenly, "-about the other day. I'm sorry, I was... I was in a really bad fuckin' place. Just brought up some memories... I didn't mean to-"

"Relax, Tangerine," you sighed, something bubbling up your throat, "-I know what it feels like when you've seen a ghost."

Something in you twisted, tired, and thinking you were lying. God, you were lying to him. But you couldn't chance losing him again, you didn't want him to hate you. Force himself out of your life, his choice.

Not yours. It was selfish, you knew that much.

"They treat ya well?" He asked, and you tilted your head, "-Your agency? I had a friend... switched over, so..."

"Very well," you hummed, "-My handler is... she understands my breaks."

"You had a break?"

"Long time ago," you spoke, vaguely -you couldn't be specific, "-stayed in a cabin, lived normal for awhile."

He leaned back into the booth, something in him curious, you could see it, "How was it?"

"Boring," you decided.

"Yeah," he murmured, "-always thought it fuckin' would be."

You took a leap then, even if the answer would hurt. You wanted to know.

"You ever thought about it?"

"Bein' normal?" He clarified -eyes smooth over your face.

You nodded, finishing your drink -he seemed to notice, and you half thought he'd offer you to get another.

"Yeah," he breathed out -not matching your eyes now, something heavy on his shoulders, "-once a long fuckin' time ago. But... things change."

You wondered if it was because of you -that one night. If he wanted that with you-

He wouldn't anymore, your mind chimed -stinging under your skin, you are different. So is he.

Timing would never be right, it made your lips snap shut anytime you thought of telling him. The idea that he had loved you then, and now... now he wouldn't. That was worse than him hating you for life, just not... just not loving you anymore.

You swallowed, thick -you wanted to know more, but you couldn't just say that, "That they do."

He paused for a moment, before sliding out of the booth, "I 've to go, Lemon's waitin' on me."

You nodded your head, toying with your glass -eyes slinking across the rim, something in you disappointed. Something in you wanted him to stay, but that wasn't going to happen. You couldn't have him.

Not now.

"Beetle," he spoke, slow and measured, "-'S nice talkin' to ya. Maybe we can catch up again when we aren't at each other's fuckin' throats, yeah?"

"Yeah," you agreed, the tips of your mouth turning up just a little, "-I'd be alright with that."

You started seeing Tangerine every once in a while, strange little cafés and dimly lit bars. You didn't know how he always ended up in the area with you or close by, but it felt familiar. Like when the two of them would follow you into jobs, even when you said you'd be fine because they wanted you to be okay. Just in case. You supposed now that they actually had something to worry about.

That led you to now, you laid on the tile of a building -head pounding and the lights blinding. You had successfully cleared it and killed your hit, but someone had snuck up on you -gun drawn, they took a cheap shot.

"Maria," you breathed out, "-Maria, come in."

"Beetle? Everything alright?"

"They got a cheap shot in-" you hummed, "-I think in my chest? It hurts to breathe-"

"Okay, alright. I'll see who's around you, okay?"

"I think I can walk-"

"Don't move, keep your hands on the wound. What floor are you on?"

"Second," you faltered out a breath -a sting in your lungs, even still you shifted putting all your weight on your hands, "-shit, never get used to that."

"Never will."

You laughed, leaning your head back down against the tile -it was cold against your skin. You felt like you were burning alive, so it was actually a little refreshing.

The lights above you hurt your eyes, but it was easier to breathe this way. Inhale, exhale -a sting, inhale, exhale -a sting.

You imagined for a second this was years ago, that you were actually dying then. The twins would come rushing in, burst through the doors, and Lemon would be darting all over you -trying to figure it out. And Tangerine... Tangerine would grab your face and keep you awake -soft words but every once in a while shaking you to keep you awake. You wouldn't have been able to die then, not with them there -trying to help. You supposed you could die now, bleed out on a tile floor alone or with someone you didn't even know.

This dream of it being Tangerine and Lemon, that was something you could live for -you could almost see it in your head.

And then you heard it, a door busting open and fancy shoes clattering down the hallway -like yours that made you feel like a prick. You wondered if you got the idea of them from Tangerine, he surely owned so many pairs-

"Shit," there was a voice then, and your eyes snapped to the source.

Oh, I'm definitely hallucinating.

Tangerine stood over you before falling to his knees, mumbling -frustrated, "I just fuckin' knew it was you."

"Am I..." you spoke, breathlessly, "-Am I hallucinating?"

"What do you think I am? A fuckin' angel?" Something in your mind answered yes, "-Hate to break it to you, love, but it's just me."

"How the hell were you around here?"

"A job," he said, a little too quickly -it was suspicious.

"Lying-" you slurred out, "-I can tell you're lying."

Tangerine didn't say anything in response, ignoring it, "'S your chest, yeah?"

"Yeah," you hummed, "-where I'm holding."

"Alright," he breathed out, "-alright. Don't stop holdin' it, okay? Keep your hand 'ere."

"How am I gonna move?"

He rolled his eyes, "Can't give me an inch of fuckin' trust, can ya?"

"Sure, I can," you breathed out, flinching slightly, "-just tell me your plan."

He let out a chuckle, before without warning -slipping his arms under your knees and back. The movement jostled you a little and it hurt -you hissed out.

"Sorry, love," he echoed out, softer than you expected, "-'s the only way to get ya out of 'ere."

"I know," you exhaled, "-I know. Keep going."

It felt like you hadn't even blinked before he was pattering out of the building -he was going so fast. Your head was spinning now, but you were still conscious.

"Shit," you heard Lemon, as Tangerine slipped you into the backseat, laying you across the seats -head first, "-a bullet?"

"Fucking cheap shot," you breathed out, "-Killed a whole building full of people and some asshole came up behind me and shot me-"

Lemon seemed to laugh slightly at your frustration; it made you feel a little lighter.

Tangerine shut the door and you waited for him to slip into the passenger seat. You were getting tired, you just wanted to bandage it up and go to whatever hotel was open.

Instead, Tangerine slipped into the side with your head -carefully lifting it and setting you back down onto his lap. You froze -his cologne surrounding your head so much it made you woozy. Why had he done that?

"Stay awake, yeah?" He spoke, breaths raggedy -he really must've been going fast, "Beetle, do you hear me?"

"Yeah, yeah," you swallowed, the smooth cushion of his suit pants was tempting, but the situation you currently were in kept you awake. Your heart was pounding, your brain spinning, you were so close.

You'd been closer, but that was over 4 years ago. Even further when his hands made their way to your face and hair -trying to keep you awake. It worked very, very well.

Had he ever held your face before?

Something in you said no, but it could've happened. You were also so close and any time you got injured he'd always wanted to see it for himself. He usually refused to leave until he took care of it himself, with gentle hands. Whose to say you hadn't gotten a cut on your face?

Why did it feel so different now?

You looked up at him, just for a spare second -you saw his hand run through his hair, unveiling the curls by the second. You'd always liked his curls, when he'd shown you his natural hair -it was all soft and bouncy. It wasn't good for his image, you totally understood.

He's nervous, your mind chimed, does he care about you like this too?

You slapped away the thought and decidedly started staring up at the plush ceiling -this car was definitely expensive, you knew that much. The cushion on the seats, the detailing, the roof, the speed-

This thing had to be stolen.

"Ya alright, love?"

You swallowed and met his eyes, big blue blinking down at you and you could see it, the concern. Since when was he concerned for you? This you? Something had changed at some point and you didn't even notice.

"I've been shot," you retorted, obviously, "-I'm currently bleeding out on your fancy seats."

"That's not-" he huffed out, pinching the bridge of his nose -you couldn't hold back the grin on your lips.

Lemon laughed from the front, "'Give 'im a real run for his money, you know 'at, Beetle?"

"I try my best."

Lemon laughed again, and something in your chest felt lighter -you had missed them, so much. All those years at that fucking cabin, you had missed out on them, on knowing them, watching them, being with them.

God, you regretted everything then, but it was for the best. It kept them safe.

"Seriously," his voice was lower now but still so pointed, "-are you alright?"

You blinked away the fog of tears in your eyes, not now, and nodded, "Yeah, yeah. I'm alright."

The ride was short after that, it was wordless. Even though you think Tangerine wanted to say more, he didn't pry. Which you thought was very strange because he's Tangerine (he prods and pokes until you're set on murdering him) but you were literally bleeding out, so maybe it was courtesy.

You didn't have the heart to think it was anything else.

The twins brought you up the stairs, each taking a shoulder, and although it wasn't as dizzying as before when Tangerine had physically held you... It still was overwhelming.

These guys were like your family. You hadn't been this close to them in years.

"Alright, I'm assumin' you got the wounds?" Lemon asked, directed at Tangerine.

With a succinct nod, Lemon spun back around in the doorway -talking as he walked out, "'M off to get some food, don't bite each other's heads off, yeah? I'd hate to clean up the mess, personally-"

And then he was gone. You were currently sitting on a stool, hand still pressed intently into your chest, as Tangerine gathered up what medical supplies they had. Which was a lot, actually.

You spoke before you could think about it, "You know I can do this myself, right?"

"God, you've got quite the fuckin' head, don't ya?"

"You're one to talk," you replied.

Tangerine pursed his lips, in a way you could tell he was hiding a smile, before his eyes drifted to the ground for a moment. He didn't respond immediately, thinking on it.

And even when he brought everything onto the counter, he didn't say anything. It wasn't until he stood in front of you, nearly in between your legs as you sat on the stool.

"Just let me help you, yeah?"

Your eyes flickered over him, trying to read him but all you could get was -please. Almost like a desperation to help you, like he'd wanted to do this not just offering it-

"Yeah, okay," you responded softly.

"Shirt off," he quickly spoke -right to business, reaching over to the counter to grab what he needed.

You swallowed, you still weren't used to that. Taking your shirt off in front of people, off the top of your head you couldn't think of anyone who had seen your scars. Your top surgery scars. They were very obvious, right in the middle of your chest, and unavoidable. Did you want him to see them?

"Can't I just..." you started, "-unbutton the bottom?"

Tangerine turned back to you then, furrowing his eyebrows, "The gunshots in the middle of your chest, love, it'd be fuckin' half on anyway. Just take it off."

You frowned.

"No judgment here," he put his hands in the air, "-I couldn't care fuckin' less what your chest looks like, personally."

You licked your teeth and swallowed, before unbuttoning the dress shirt, slowly, but keeping it solidly on your shoulders. Kind of like how the men in cologne ads looked, with their opened-up shirts and the epitome of masculinity-

He didn't say a word, but you saw his eyes flicker over them -almost like he was noting it in his head before he switched his attention to the wound. He promptly dabbed it with an alcohol soaked cotton ball, and you nearly bit through your lip.

"Warn a guy, will you?"

Tangerine didn't even look up, "If that hurt, you're gonna have a fuckin' problem later, love."

"I've been stitched up before," you clarified, "-I'm not a newbie."

"Might as well be, yeah?" He hummed, tossing the cotton ball in the trash -flawlessly making it in (how does he even exist?), "-With your break."

"How do you know it was a long one?"

"I've never fuckin' heard of you," Tangerine explained, "-Ladybug's never heard of you and you're a part of his agency-" he dabbed another one over your wound, "-Must've been a long break."

He had a good point.

"Why are you so interested anyway?" You asked, quirking a brow, "-Plus, there are other agencies, how do you know I didn't come from one of them?"

"You're too good to 'ave," he replied, simply.

You fell silent, something stirring in your stomach -was that the first time he'd ever complimented you? Beetle you? Huh.

"Wow," you hummed, "-you can be nice. Who knew?"

"You're soundin' like fuckin' Lemon now," he groaned, before taking the needle from the counter.

"Lemon's smart then," you diverted your eyes -never could stand looking at being stitched up.

Tangerine rolled his eyes, and you looked back up to the ceiling -a smile ghosting onto your lips. Not that you'd ever let him see.

It went fairly smoothly, his hands made quick work of it and even quicker with the wound on your back (the bullet had gone right through your chest, luckily not hitting anything). Nothing happened, you were worried about nothing. He was Tangerine-

Just as you had started buttoning your shirt back up (you started from the bottom to the top), Tangerine froze.

Without a word, he walked closer to you -tilting your chin up with the ease of a finger and looking under it on your chest. You froze, his skin on yours was still something you couldn't deal with.

"Where'd you get 'at one?"

Fuck.

You knew what he was talking about immediately. It was a scar, just above your heart. You'd been stabbed on the job, and Lemon had fucked up your stitches so it had healed weird -came out curved somehow.

And then Tangerine was so paranoid that you showed him because he needed to know you were okay -it was so close to your heart.

"You almost fuckin' died, Butterfly. One inch down and..."

It was a one-of-a-kind scar. At the time, it didn't matter but now? You knew Tangerine could recognize that scar anywhere.

"Tangerine," you spoke out, measured. You tried to keep your voice calm, maybe you could save this-

He stepped back, eyes making contact with yours -they darted between them for a moment and then back to the scar, and then to your top surgery scars. You could see the wheels turning in his head, and everything in your body was screaming-

"Tangerine, listen-"

That was enough, something in him stiffened and he grabbed his coat off the back of the couch.

"Tangerine," you echoed out, but you knew it was no use now.

He didn't say a word, slipping it on and with the fastest steps you'd ever seen in your life, he disappeared out the door and slammed it shut.

The walls shook after.

You swallowed dryly, tears pricking at your eyes -this was never supposed to happen. This was never supposed to happen-

Your hand was on your com before you could even think about it, breaths shuddering out of your chest -sobs breaking in the back of your throat. You tried to stop it, hold it all back-

"Beetle? Hello? I see your com is on, everything alright?"

"They know," you whispered, nearly silent -tears streaming down your face.

"Who knows what?"

"The twins, they were... they were the ones nearby," you started, and your voice cracked, "-Tangerine offered to stitch me up and I have a scar-"

"Beetle, slow down. I can't understand you."

"They know who I am, Maria," you breathed out, tears catching in your throat, "-Tangerine knows and he's going to tell Lemon, and I don't know what the hell to do-"

"Beetle, breathe."

"He left," you echoed out, and you were crying -god it had been so long since you cried, "-he left, Maria. He didn't even say anything-"

"It's a lot to take in. Give him the benefit of the doubt."

"He's gone," you swallowed, "-I know it, Maria."

"You know him. Do you really think he's gone?"

You thought back to the pendant on his necklace -the butterfly, your butterfly.

"I don't..." you started, "-I don't know."

"Just wait, if nobody comes back... Give me a call, alright? I'll send a car your way."

So, you did.

You waited, buttoned your shirt back up, tried to wash the stain, and waited. You ended up flicking through TV shows, and smushed into the couch, waiting. Even thought about ordering your own food, but a part of you wanted to be sure that Lemon wasn't coming back.

After about two hours of waiting, you swallowed down the tears -eyes all red and puffy, and started gathering up your stuff. You accepted it now, you'd never see them again.

It was your decision, you would regret it for as long as you lived. Something in your chest heavy and exhausted, you readied yourself to call Maria back.

Just as your finger was about to touch the com, there was a jingle of some keys outside the door. You froze in place, slipping on one of your shoes without another thought -ready to leave. You knew he'd ask you.

The door slowly opened, and Tangerine peered inside -he looked worse for wear and you think if you focused hard enough you could see blood on his knuckles. You wouldn't ask, not now.

His blue eyes flicked over you, to your shoes and your coat all gathered up on your arms, he gnawed at his lip for a moment.

"Where the fuck are you goin'?

It was all harsh edges and sharp points, it made you bring up your own barriers.

"I'm leaving," you answered, straightening your posture and putting on your other shoe.

Tangerine didn't move for a moment, as you slowly made your way to the door -footsteps echoing in the heaviest silence you'd ever experienced in your life.

Just before you got there, Tangerine stepped in front of the door -something in his eyes heavy.

"Tangerine," you sighed, "-let me go."

"No," he answered simply, eyes meeting yours and you saw now, they were red and puffy too, "-hell no."

"Look, I really don't want to-" you started before briefly rubbing your temples, "-you want me to leave, just let me leave."

"Who the fuck said 'at?"

You tilted your head.

"Why would I want you to leave?" He furrowed his eyebrows, still angry, "-You... I just got you back, why the fuck would I want you to leave?"

"I lied to you, Tan," you breathed out, and something caught in your throat, "-I lied to you for years."

"You're fuckin' alive-" Tangerine exhaled, chuckling a little in disbelief, "-I have so many questions, yeah? That is far, so fuckin' far, from wantin' you to leave."

"Tangerine," you spoke, voice shaky, you just wanted to go. It would be so much easier if you just left-

He paused for a second, "Are you fuckin' listenin' to me?"

"I am," you replied, tears rising to the backs of your eyes, "-I just can't..."

"Love," he grabbed your wrist, something softer, gentler, "-Love, look at me, please."

You swallowed your tears and with a big breath, you looked at him. His eyes were always so very blue, but something about them then was vulnerable. Broken wide open, Tangerine sat in front of you.

"I want ya to stay, yeah?" He breathed out, wiping over his mouth, "-I want you to stay."

You pursed your lips, trying so hard not to cry -you shouldn't be the one crying, "Okay."

"Now," he sighed out, a little lighter, "-fuckin' sit down, you shouldn't aggravate the wound."

You wordlessly sat down on the far edge of the couch, closest to the door. Your hands were shaking, so you laid them flat on your lap -trying to calm down.

He wants you to stay.

"You said-" he started, his voice getting caught up in his mouth, "-You said you were in a cabin, yeah? Where?"

You opened your mouth, confused, "Why does that matter? You have... I lied to you for years and that’s your first question?"

He was standing up, pacing, and then suddenly stopped. He looked up at the ceiling for a moment blinking.

"You know, when they told us you were... dead," he echoed out -something caught in his throat, "-they didn't have a body? All we had was-"

His hand went to his necklace putting the pendant in between his fingers, "All we had was your things, there was no fuckin' body-"

"What does this have to do with-"

"I looked for you," he finally said, "-everywhere I went for a job, I fuckin' looked for you. Because if there wasn't a body, you could still be-"

He fell silent, for a moment -swallowing, eyes swimming over you like he couldn't believe it, "...alive."

"So," he continued, clearing his throat, "-I want to know where the fuck you were. 'At fair?"

Your mouth snapped shut - he looked for you? For how long? That wasn't important now though.

"Alaska," you answered, wiping at your eyes, "-small town, in the middle of nowhere. I had... I had an alias."

"Fuckin' Alaska," he muttered, under his breath.

"It was cold all the time," you added -a bit awkwardly, "-snowed nearly everyday."

Tangerine scanned over your face, maybe like he was trying to imagine you there, alone in the cabin. Or maybe, you out in the snow.

"That day..." he started slow, "-did you fight it? When you were told what you... what you had to do, did you fight it?"

"What are you asking?"

"Did you even think about telling us? Or, or-" he swallowed and his voice was husky and his eyes were bleary, "-coming back to us?"

"Tangerine," you echoed out, emotionless -trying to reign it in, "-I didn't have a choice. You know that."

"I know," he agreed, "-but did you fuckin' try?"

"You think-" you exhaled out, tears gathering in your eyes now, "-You think I didn't try to say goodbye? That I didn't beg Maria to change her mind? That I didn't tell her you guys would keep the secret-"

"Beetle-"

"-just so I could stay?"

"Beetle, I didn't..."

"I did," you swallowed, "-I did beg. It didn't work. If I... If you would've known, we both would've been in too much danger. I couldn't risk it."

"The White Death, yeah?" He clarified, and he was closer to you then he was before. His fingers kept twitching like he wanted to do something.

"He was after me," you hummed, "-knew where I was, where you were, where Lemon was."

"I just-" he started, "-I don't fuckin' get why... after you- After the White Death was killed, why didn't you- why didn't you come back? Tell us?"

"It's... complicated."

"Why?" he stressed out, "Why was it complicated? You were alive, and I don't know about Lemon, but, personally, I would've loved to fuckin' know 'at."

"Tangerine," you started, "-I'm different now, and you guys... you grieved me. How was I supposed to come back from that?"

"I don't give a flyin' fuck 'at you're a man," he interrupted, "-I just wish you would've felt comfortable enough to tell me- tell us earlier."

"Tangerine," you could feel the tears in your eyes.

"And we grieved you, yeah, but-" he explained, messing with his hands for a moment, "-knowing you're alive? That you were fuckin' breathin'? The grieving... It wouldn't 'ave fuckin' mattered, love."

"It would have," you stopped him, "-you thought I was dead-"

"Love," he suddenly sat by your side, gently holding your wrists in place, "-listen to me for once, yeah?"

You nodded, wordlessly, tears slipping down your face, this was guilt you were holding onto for years.

Without hesitating, Tangerine gently started swiping them away with his thumbs, "I thought I was in a world without fuckin' you. Lovely, annoying, beautiful fuckin' you."

You opened your mouth, but he merely continued.

"I couldn't imagine my life without ya in it, and then suddenly it was the fuckin' life I was livin'," he sighed out, eyes matching yours and hands cradling your jaw, "-you being alive changes fuckin' everythin'."

"Why?" You offered, eyes scattering between his -looking for an answer.

He paused for a moment, before dropping his hands, pushing his hair back for a moment, and swallowing. It was like he was readying himself.

"Lemon used to tell me that I was stupid," he finally said.

"Doesn't he always?" You furrowed your eyebrows.

He smiled a little bit, before grabbing one of your hands with his and fidgeting with your fingers -kind of like he just needed to be close to you, "Right, yeah. But this... He told me 'at one day I would regret not tellin' you."

"Telling me what?"

"When you... when you died, I realized the idiot was fuckin' right," he hummed out, a sob catching in his throat but he just kept talking, "-and then, I met a fuckin' self-righteous bloke who had the nerve to dare me to shoot 'im. Looked me right in the eyes."

"Tangerine-"

"And then the guy kept showin' up, and I kept seein' 'im and it was the always same back and forth," he continued, tracing along the creases of your palm, "-but at some point I started thinkin' that I wouldn't shoot 'im, even if he asked."

You laughed.

A smile flickered across his face at the noise, but he kept his eyes downward, "And then, I see 'im bloody and hurtin'. And I think back to the first time, when I didn't say it and if now I wasn't gonna be fuckin' able to-"

You raised an eyebrow.

"And then they dared to be the same fuckin' person."

"Tangerine," you asked, "-what the hell are you talking about?"

It was then that he finally looked up, and then you realized how close his face was to yours. You feel the puffs of his breath against your skin, and it made your head fuzzy. Your thoughts became blurry and all you could see was him-

Tangerine. Tangerine. Tangerine-

"I really don't give a fuck 'at you're a man," he repeated, blue eyes laser focused on yours.

You furrowed your eyebrows, "What the hell does that-"

His eyes dipped down to your lips.

Oh.

"Really?"

"Not a flyin' fuck," he echoed out.

You smiled, before letting your own eyes drift -just for a second. It was like a confirmation, a consent.

Before you could say another word, his hands reached up to grab your face and bring your lips to his. It was all force, desperate, like you were oxygen and he just wanted to breathe-

But somehow still gentle, holding you -fingers rubbing along your face like he was reminding himself you were there. That you were alive. That you were sitting there beside him breathing. It made sense now, all of it.

The grieving didn't matter because you were alive.

He finally separated, keeping his forehead on yours for a split second -staring into your eyes and huffing out breaths.

He kept you there, until it felt like you couldn't breathe -he stole all of it away.

When there was a knock on the door.

Then, there was another knock.

He groaned, throwing his head back -decidedly not letting you go.

"What do you fuckin' want, Lemon?"

"No way to treat someone who got you food," he chastised, "-you 'ave the keys, let me in."

"Come back in ten minutes," Tangerine answered -eyes solidly on yours, you felt frozen in your seat.

"The food's gonna get cold, mate," Lemon retorted, "-don't ya want it warm? I worked hard to get it, ya know? The closest restaurant was like a fuckin' block away-"

"Ten minutes," Tangerine repeated.

"I'm not fuckin' leaving," Lemon started again, "-it's cold out 'ere. You gonna leave your brother out in the fuckin' cold-"

"Fuckin' go, Lemon," Tangerine groaned out.

"Fine," he breathed out, "-keep snoggin', but don't fuckin' complain if I eat some of your food."

Yeah, you really missed this.

"We won't," you chimed in with a smile.

Tangerine smiled at you like you held the sun.