#I need to find that fic ughhhh

[a-concert-just-for-me]

Thinking about the puppet Hunter in WAD and how he said to Luz “Why Luz? Why do you get to have it all?” And OUGH it’s just like that one fic that has a line something like “Luz wants to find a way to keep both families, meanwhile Hunter would be happy with just one.” FIC AUTHOR HOW DOES IT FEEL TO BE BLESSED WITH THE GIFT OF APOLLO

Edit: FOUND IT, it’s The Silent Language of Grief by WinterSky101

“I want to be here and on the Boiling Isles. I want to have both families.”

(Hunter would be satisfied with just one. He doesn't say that.)

[ellie-shy]

Uhhh.. guys? The Emperor? I get it.

When I started playing BG3 as Salju, and I sort of got a bit of the spoiler of the Emperor blahblahblah...

So, I was certain to want to betray him later in the final fight.

But THEN!

I got the mindblown achievement.

And now I'm soft for the squid.

[padfootastic]

Hey there ! I missed seeing your posts so I am glad you’re back : ) so last week I reread where you go, i'm going (because there's no me without you) and like I just love it so so much because the main character energy they exude is truly awesome, I mean it’s just so perfect. Also when Sirius took his shirt off so the attention was shifted from James 🥹 was adorable because they’re just always there for each other. I love this fic so much that I reread it so frequently (not just this one tbh I love all your other works too so thank you so much for writing them ) I just wanted to ask you do you have anymore tattoo related head canons ? Also sorry it turned so long

omg hi anon 🥺🥺 thank u so, so much!!! that fic is so dear to me bc i wrote it in one stretch in the notes app of my phone and just. it’s everything i love about j & s and fanfiction, i think. and dude, main character energy is so right??? like just casually reforming extremely advanced magic for no reason other than to fuck around???

(also please never apologise for the length of anything, i am the queen of rambling for no reason here so if anything, it should be saying sorry for making y’all go thru all mt word vomit lol)

as for tattoo related headcanons, hmmm, so. there’s this fic about harry & sirius & tattoos postwar, where each chapter just has more tattoo content lol it has pretty much most of my hcs in some form or the other. what else, hm.

- james’ first tattoo is for sirius, always. he wasn’t really interested in it but he wanted it to get thru sirius’ thick skull that he’s family, always will be, and if he had to mutilate his own skin to prove it, so he will. of course, after that he realised he actually quite liked it so he just. never stopped.

- i mention this in the fic but james is very proper, buttoned up, perfect pureblood heir types & doesn’t have any visible tattoos. (have u seen that ig trend where these super ripped, tattooed dudes do that thing where they’re all well dressed in the beginning and when the beat drops, they’re set against a light backdrop, shirtless, showing off an impressive collection of badass tattoos? that is james potter coded)

- sirius is def the kind of person who’s get inked without a second thought. he loves the pain, the little rush of adrenaline, the feeling of being alive that comes with it. he also gets a tattoo from every single country he travels to, without fail, as a way to preserve memories.

- these dorks def have a marauder tattoo that they get inked on a dare or sumn. surprisingly (or not), remus was the one most hesitant and who had to be pushed into it. peter, of course, was the most eager

- magical tattoos!!! just. so many of them. that’s the tweet. (again, this is in the other fic, but i’m kinda obsessed with runic tattoos that can double as conduits for magic? and j & s doing it on each other, at risk of actual, literal combustion and not caring about it bc they have the invincibility of teenage boyhood)

[deus-ex-mona]

my morbid curiosity has been piqued…

[rodeorun]

"For so long, he's wanted to do that—kiss your sweet, supple lips that ramble nonsense and shut you up—bridge the gap between your broken friendship to ask for more—make all your fire, resistance, and anger melt away...so you could come back to him." THAT'S DEVOTION BRO YOOOO

God is Fair

Devotional Love with Suguru x Reader|Two-Shot

the deets: since you were young, you knew you were meant for each other. he comes into your life like a storm and grows closer no matter how distant you seem. he swells and captures your heart every time he's near. so why do you keep fighting him? w.c: 11k (holy f*ck) out of idk yet for part-two (god bless) tags: fem!reader, mostly angsty….pretty much 90% angst for part 1, repressed feelings, jealousy, lingering lips and fingers, a little bit of self-depreciation at the end but pick that crown up love, reader gets a little violent at the end 😳|if i missed anything, pls comment or DM ☺️ angel’s note: this story started as one thing and ended up as another—so goes the way of life. PSA: most of the good, filthy, mack-nasty shyt is in part 2, but you’ve gotta wade through the fire first to get it. It’s always worth it|thanks for reading 🖤 earworm 🐛: Chihiro|Billie Eilish

Over time, you had become perfectly molded to him.

As did his lips to your tender bud that sank under his sinful tongue.

Slender, gripping fingers drown under his raven locks, barely saving you from the shallow breaths you must take to stay alive.

You’re just above water, and he steals your air, spelling poetry with his tongue over your folding petals. Broken coos spill from your puffy lips—his favorite melody to ever grace his ears.

Whether it was today, tomorrow, yesterday, or forever—you fall—in and in and even deeper into his grasp. Under the waves and trapped in his ocean—he gently pulls you under—your lungs yearning for air, but you never want out.

And the way he dives in, drowning to taste every drop, every sweet, delectable sip of your nectar like he could live the rest of his life without oxygen—tells you that he doesn’t either. 

You learned to love each other’s oceans and came to mix seas. Both threaded rough waters but learned to float with calm bodies.

Now you lie hand in hand, limbs weaved like vines through each other’s arms, as you cuddle. Completely spent from another night in each other’s depths. Grateful. Grateful for his love—his patience.

And wondering how on Earth you thought it’d be possible to exist without someone you swore you despised.

Suguru had always been the best—the best at being good, the best at being kind, the best at being quiet—the best at being better than you.��

When you were eight years old, he made his quiet introduction into your quaint little neighborhood, riding in a flashy Mercedes-Benz followed by two moving trucks that pulled right into the driveway directly across the street from your humble home. Heels painted with red bottoms adorned stocking-covered legs and were the first things you saw as you watched from your bedroom window. 

The sound of movers drew your attention. No one ever came to your city, let alone your cul-de-sac. You felt a shift. A change was coming.

A tall woman, her long, sleek ponytail blowing in the wind, stepped out of the driver’s seat wearing large couture shades that took up most of her face. The overhanging forecast made everything bleak and gray, but the sunglasses stayed. A man exited the passenger seat and came to the woman’s side. He gingerly took her hand and looked around with a small smile, gently rubbing her arm. She slightly grimaced and handed him what looked like one of those small, overpriced designer bags.

They looked so…out of place.

They had to smell like money.

What the heck were they doing here? 

In a city like yours, one of those places where everyone knows everyone and everybody's business, you instantly knew that this couple would be the talk of the town. At least with the adults.  

You blew air into your bangs. You weren’t expecting new neighbors, but they could have at least come with a kid—someone who might actually want you around. 

“Hey, Bug,” your dad called from the garden. He always left the back door open so he could hear you in case you needed him. He must have heard the rumbling of their heavy trucks now being unloaded with elegant furniture. Would all of that even fit in there? Their house was bigger than yours but not by much. “Sounds like we’ve got new neighbors. Might go by later and say hi if you want to come.”

“No thanks.” You turned back to the window, resting your head on your arms. Meeting Mr. and Mrs. Richy Rich did not sound very appealing to you and might only make you feel worse on this already gloomy Spring day. For once, you just wanted to be pleasantly surprised and not just surprised—something you wouldn’t expect, like hitting the jackpot or whatever.

And then you saw him, inky black hair drawn into a short ponytail, emerging from the back seat of the fancy car and clutching a book thicker than his torso. His starched white-collar shirt and beige shorts reminded you of school. He kept his chin tucked and looked like the wind just might knock him over if the book wasn’t keeping him upright. 

He and the woman were near twins. Definitely mother and son. She smoothed her hands down her skirt and put on a genuine smile for him. The man draped his arm around the boy’s shoulders as he took in the neighborhood. Slow and sheepish. You thought his eyes caught yours when he looked behind him.

You ducked under the window sill. 

Sh—

“You can’t stay cooped up in here all the time, Bug,” your dad called again. It sounded like he might be wrapping up. “You don’t know what you’re missing out on.”

You inched back up to the window and peered over the edge. The boy looked like he was just as lost as to why he was there. Anxious. Reserved. Kind of boring. 

Not your speed.

You blew a raspberry and turned away. So much for that. You wouldn’t be missing much.

In your neighborhood, all the kids walked freely to each other’s houses to see if anyone was home. This was before everyone had cell phones to save time and figure it out for them. 

You watched it happen with the other kids all the time. They’d visit each other and either stay inside (super rare) or call up the rest of the neighborhood to play in the cul-de-sac or park. 

But you were never quite given a direct invitation.

The few friends you were close with moved away about a year ago, and the thought of making new ones who would eventually do the same kept you emotionally at arm's length. To make it worse, you swore the group you were left with undoubtedly hated you.

Why?

Because you had a history of sucking. 

Everyone else in the neighborhood was naturally good at something. Anything. Everything.

But you?

You had to try.

Mess up. And try again. At almost anything you could name.

Basketball? Trash. 

Tag? You were slow.

Football? Pssssh. As if—like you’d let yourself get hurt? You sat out every time.

So, the kids stopped inviting you or always picked you last. Both were grimy slaps in the face. Because you always knew you could be better. Delulu was the solulu if they’d only give you a chance. Or two. Or a few. Like damn, you were trying. 

At least you weren’t the only one being left out. 

It’d been weeks since you saw the new kid on the block—not like you thought about him much after you dismissed him. But slowly, as the sounds of Spring beckoned him outside, he reminded you that the new “rich” neighbors did indeed have a kid. It started with the curtains in his living room window gently ruffling before he’d peek out, then eventually upgraded to gracing the neighborhood with his presence to sit outside. For hours, he watched from his front porch as the neighborhood kids dashed past your houses to play in the cul-de-sac. 

It kind of made you jealous—the amount of space and freedom on their porch that his parents clearly weren’t taking advantage of. Only two plastic chairs and a small table occupied the space, and they weren’t nearly as lovely as the things you saw go into the home on move-in day. You’d string up one of those hammocks big enough for two like you’d seen on TV and just float in the breeze under the overhang. It had been a frequent daydream of yours long before they moved in. 

Instead, a gawking boy with too much time on his hands made it his home. Watching. Fiddling with his fingers and leaning on the rail. Watching. Always seeming too afraid to approach. He had what you thought was the best house in the neighborhood (and probably the most money), and still, he looked so sad. 

With the background he seemed to come from, you thought he’d be more ballsy. 

One day, you were, and you walked right up there, took the hand of the wide-eyed kid, and led him to the rest of the kids down at the park. His dad watched the whole thing go down from the kitchen window as he did the dishes, silently laughing as the boy stumbled behind you but didn’t say a word. 

This was your chance. You were so tired of the other kids being better than you. With him being the new kid, you thought he’d at least be somewhat on your level or maybe even a bit worse. Anything was better than being the odd one out. 

You and the boy just a few inches shorter than you crashed the party right before the next game started. You beamed at the group like you had caught a prized fish. 

“Guys, this is um…um…” Then you realize you hadn’t asked his name. And he was still holding your hand. 

You dropped it and nudged him. “Suguru,” he said softly, seeming to avoid eye contact.

Suguru hadn’t seen that many kids in a group like this outside of school. He didn’t mean to look so anxious, but he wasn’t used to being in a neighborhood full of kids his age. He instantly felt like an outsider seeing how comfortable everyone was with each other, apart from you by his side. While soft smiles offered him a glimmer of acceptance, the stares made him self-conscious. He wondered if he could ever fit in.

You repeated his name in case no one heard him. Suguru. It naturally rolled off your tongue. Soft and sweet. Like the boy. He fidgeted with his fingers, but hearing his name felt reassuring. You looked at him and grinned. It was time to see what he’s got.

Tee-ball was the game. One you hated the most. Running was not your sport, and you certainly didn’t have an arm, so it never hurt your feelings too much when you weren’t picked for teams. But you made sure Suguru was. You wanted to see him in action. 

Last summer, you guys found an old traffic cone to use as the tee and placed sticks around the field for bases. 

You didn’t expect much from Suguru when it was time to bat because…look at him. He was so small and timid. The bat borrowed from someone’s dad was almost the same size as him, and you swore you saw his feet lift a few times during his practice swings. Too much of that and he’d be airborne. You prepared to give him a “job well done” pat on the back once he hit the ball a few feet. Suguru squared up at the tee—on his way to join you at the bottom of the barrel.

And wouldn’t you know it? 

He knocked the ball clear out of the park and didn’t even skim the cone. 

Your mouth fell open before you remembered you were the designated retriever since you weren’t playing the game. You grumbled the whole walk and search for it. 

And then he did it again. And again. And again. 

And surprise, surprise, he excelled at every game he played after. Everyone wanted Suguru on their team. 

You gaped at the feats—so much power, strength, and coordination in such an unassuming body.

And instantly hated him.

Not because he was the best or braggy about it. 

It was the complete opposite. 

He barely seemed to acknowledge it—not in an arrogant, dismissive way, but more like he was just happy to be involved and doing something. He was sheepish with compliments and even seemed nervous to receive them. He’d rub his head and give a little close-eyed smile before returning to the game.

And would peer over to you on the sidelines for approval. 

Every swing, every hit, and every game after, his purple eyes would find yours whenever he thought he’d done something worthwhile.

You tried to hide the jealous scowl, returning his shy smile with a nod and telling him to keep his head in the game. 

But he noticed.

He saw it. He knew you were unhappy, and he wanted nothing more than to help. 

So after that, you kind of mirrored each other. 

The kids always saw you as a try-hard—constantly on repeat, trying to make yourself valid and stand out. You’d grab failure by the throat, determined to make it forget your name. You weren’t attention-seeking; only wanted to be counted in. And so the student became the teacher. Suguru began to slip you little nods as if saying he saw you—just like you saw him all those times on his front porch. It’d annoy you at first, what you thought could’ve been pity, but it felt nice to finally be acknowledged by someone. 

And so gradually, you looked to him as a spectator, earning silent yeses and nos until you finally worked up the courage to do what you were afraid of most. Ask him to be a friend. 

To help you perfect your skills, of course. 

But the friendship blossomed like the Spring, and you and Suguru actually grew really close—instantly drawn to each other. Pop-ups to his house were the norm as you had the most advantage out of everyone in the neighborhood by living right across from him. And you both were always brought up by one another’s parents.

Turns out Suguru’s dad was a lot like yours and they got on really well. They’re both funny, kind. But your dad’s just a little bit different. He’s got rebellion in his bones, as he often talked about when he told you stories about his youth and take-no-shit hippie days. 

“I’m serious, Bug. So, there we were, strapped to the tree. Shackled, really.” 

He mimicked the story with his arms in between laughs. 

“So, so we’re all chained up, right? And this bulldozer is coming right at our heads, ya? I look over to Stanley,” your even crazier God-father who showered you with gifts every time he visited, “I say, ‘Stanley, tough up. You look like you’re about to piss yourself.’ And he goes, ‘I’m not scared. I forgot to go before we locked ourselves in.’” 

Your dad roared with laughter, wiping the tears from his eyes like he hadn’t told that story a million times. Like he was going around trying to collect little activists. But Suguru almost fell over, leaning into his every word. He was such a shy laugher, always creasing his eyes and dimpling his cheeks when he did. It made your dad feel like the funniest guy alive when Suguru entertained his jokes.

“You were so brave,” and Suguru called your dad by his nickname just like your dad told him to. “I want to be that brave when I’m older.”

Your dad winked at you—you stuck out your tongue. Suguru was a good kid, he thought and reminded him a bit of himself.

Those days, your dad was mostly still the same. He didn’t need much and chose to live life quaint and peaceful. He’d talk your ear off about activism, travel, and stories about your mom, who passed when you were born. You never got to “meet” her, but you always felt like you knew exactly who she was. And she was totally different from Suguru’s mom, who you learned was a hard-working corporate baddie. Red bottom heels. Makes sense.

By the end of that first summer, your families were practically joined at the hip. You and Suguru even more so. Outside of house calls and playing games with the rest of the neighborhood, the two of you also made frequent trips to the makeshift pier. Almost everything in your neighborhood and the surrounding area was walkable, including a small, wobbly, probably dangerous dock that sat over the small lake in town. You’d play a little alphabet game you made up on the walk down and constantly challenge him. Only for him to literally beat you at your own game nine times out of ten. 

“Angels shop at—” You skipped down the dirt path.

“Blessed boutiques,” Suguru finished, “Beautiful coats—”

“Can clothe their wings. Dashing dolls—”

“Eat every sweet. Forks will find—”

“Giant…giant,” you thought and thought and thought, “Giant—”

“Geese!”’ Suguru tagged you and ran down the dock, deeming you the loser of that round. You strolled down to meet him near the water reflecting the sunset. A pout took up your face. He patted the deck, motioning for you to sit. “You’re gonna miss the fireflies.”

Watching them pop up one by one and glow on the water as the sun went down became a ritual. And one of your favorite memories of summer.

The following school year, you were even more inseparable. And when the end of fifth grade rolled around the year after, you knew it was fate when you found out you’d be attending the same middle school. 

You were overjoyed. So was Suguru, but for different reasons. To you, now it was on. 

Academics was an area where you had a fair shot at flourishing. You were studious, attentive, and almost the perfect student. And while you didn’t have bad grades, you always felt like you could be better. And you know why. Because everything came naturally to Suguru, of course. 

Thank goodness for extracurriculars, though. The two of you didn’t need to do everything together, and you both benefited from the time and separation to do your own thing and discover your own interests. The Newspaper club caught your eye and was more interesting than you thought it would be—the first hobby to make you fall in love with words. 

Suguru took an interest in robotics and, surprisingly, Yearbook. He was pretty crafty with a camera and made sure to snap the best photos of you during your events. 

But the two of you rarely spoke of school or after-school activities. You never wanted him to know if you were struggling or needed help with anything. You tried not to rely on him so much those days, so everything with you was always good. It had to be. He was still the competition, after all. And you had to appear just as flawless. 

Instead, you enjoyed late-night phone calls that went way past both of your bedtimes as you grew into middle schoolers. Pretending to be asleep and slipping the phone under your pillow without moving a muscle when your parents checked in was a sport. It couldn’t be helped. The books you were reading, shows you were watching, and thoughts on what high school would be like were too good not to talk about into the late-night hours—even when your eyelids got too tired to stay open. Falling asleep with your cellphones in hand or occupying a space on your pillows was the norm. 

“What’d ya think about the movie?” 

“I mean, the book is always better, right? But like,” you sighed happily into the phone, “they made their lives look so…amazing.”

You watched The Great Gatsby 1979 version on DVD at Suguru’s house right after school that day before you had to scurry off to help your dad in the garden. Suguru finished the book a few days ago, and after catching him with it during lunch and poking him enough to get him to spill some of the details, you were sold. A glamorous story about a life of luxury and passion? Say less. And because you couldn’t resist, you told him you’d finish it in less time than he did.

Suguru thought the movie was pretty true to the book, but man, what a sad story. You, however, were in love with the lifestyle.

“What about Daisy?”

You pondered Daisy’s decision for half a second before deciding she was a one-off. All her if she had been spoiled, something you were a total stranger to but didn’t make a point to say—only dismissed her frivolous ways and called her a coward. “Just the money and parties would be enough for me,” you said in a daydream. “It’d be too happy to be that shallow.” 

Suguru laughed and said that wasn’t the point of the book. “Money can't always buy happiness. She could’ve had love. It was right there.” He sounded so sophisticated when he said it, much too wise and sappy for a 13-year-old. 

You suck your teeth. “That’s easy for you to say.” And you reminded him that he has a nicer house, clothes, car. “And when are y’all getting the Benz back?” Lately, you and Suguru had been getting picked up by his dad in a major downgrade of a car. It’d been at least two months, and you were missing the feel of luxury against your skin.

The phone went quiet for a second, and Suguru scratched his head. “Uh, we actually don’t have it anymore.”

Your eyes widened as if he had just told you someone died. Borderline devastation set in like it was your family losing one of its greatest displays of wealth. But Suguru didn’t sound the least bit sad when he told you that his dad referred to the “new car” as a “cash car” because they needed something quick.

And then it clicked, and you realized why you’d been noticing that furniture and things had also been disappearing in his house when you came over. And why he had to switch to the free lunch program you were also on at school. And why his dad mentioned looking for a second job the other day. Suguru’s family had been hit by the recession. And that’s how he became your neighbor.

Most of everything Suguru grew up with in his previous family home was placed in storage when they first moved into your neighborhood. His mom thought their stay would be temporary; she had been demoted at work but didn’t think it was a big deal, and things would quickly be back to normal—maybe even come with a promotion if she worked hard enough. But it wasn’t her skills that was the problem. The economy was in shambles, and her company was running out of money. After two years of hoping for a miracle, she and over 40% of her company were laid off.

They kept all of this from Suguru until only a few weeks ago. He was much too young to understand what it all meant when it first happened—he was just a kid. But now, he was older, smarter, way less naïve. They couldn’t keep lying to him about why the car was away at the shop or why the family heirloom dining table went missing, among other things. 

When they told him that he’d have to slow down on his growing book collection and get only one gift this year for his birthday, that’s when he started asking questions—not that neither of those things meant much to him. He was more than happy to frequent the school library, and you noticed that he’d been spending a lot more time there than usual during breaks. What bothered Suguru the most was the looks his parents gave him when they told him everything. Like they were delivering the worst news in the world. Like they were so worried that they’d be disappointing him. Like they should be ashamed. 

It hurt him more to know that they felt like they had failed him. 

“My dad just looks so tired all of the time now.” Mr. Geto, who had been a stay-at-home work-from-home employee since before Suguru was born, had to get a part-time job working overnight to help bridge the widening gap between their old and new lifestyle. Now, Suguru doesn’t get to see him as much except to make breakfast and kiss Suguru goodbye with a sluggish smile on his face before school. He really missed his dad. And it made you feel like shit for momentarily being a Daisy.

For the rest of the night, you just listened to Suguru tell stories about back home—what his parents were like, the things they used to do, the trips they would take, and the time they spent together. Little memories from a place you’ve never been but could clearly see as he talked through the night. Never once did Suguru mention missing the things he used to have or wanted now. The people in his life are what he cared about most. 

“My dad got a new antenna for the TV to surprise my mom with so she can still watch her favorite channels from back home,” he laughed. “It’s so big. I hadn’t seen one before, so it was kinda funny to look at, but I’m glad it’ll make her happy.”

You solemnly smiled and propped up on your arm. “Do you ever miss home? Like being back there?”

He mentioned that he thought about it sometimes: the plush green grass in his front and backyard that he’d lay in for hours, the much sunnier skies compared to the frequently gray and cloudy ones, and humid air here in your rainy city, the few friends and family members he had to leave behind. But he liked it here better and surprised the hell out of you by saying so. 

Anywhere was better than being here. 

Even though his family was going through a hard time, they still managed to get the nicest house in the neighborhood. You could only imagine what his childhood home looked like compared to the one bedroom and living room your dad made into his own space. You asked why. What could possibly make this place any better than where he came from?

You could hear him shrug through the phone as he lay on his back and stared at the ceiling decorated with glow-in-the-dark stars. “I don’t know,” he said. “It’s just something about this place.”

You still think about that conversation sometimes.

The end of middle school came in a blaze, and so did puberty. 

Suddenly, you became aware that it was time to start caring about what you looked like. Some nights, you would call it early with Suguru in favor of spending hours on YouTube watching videos and learning how to wear makeup. You put more thought into how you dressed and tried your best to style the little clothes you had into mostly decent outfits. You’d beam every morning when you entered the kitchen to grab breakfast and say goodbye to your dad. He’d try his best not to cry, watching his little Bug grow up before his eyes. 

Suguru did some growing, too. The summer of 7th grade, he got a little taller, and when your final year started, you guys were finally neck and neck. He was beginning to be able to see the top of your head when he lifted his chin, and he would make little jokes about it in his prepubescent boy's voice, which was starting to crack. You’d push the too-big glasses that he got at the start of middle school up the bridge of his nose and tell him not to get too cocky. This was the tallest he would get, you’d tease. He may have been good at everything, but he’d always be a pip-squeak. 

When you weren’t going back and forth with Suguru, you were hanging out with the new gal pals you made at school. Your little trio started spending more time together, window shopping at the mall, attending football games after school, and talking each other’s ears off about anything in between throughout your last year. You couldn’t tell Suguru everything, of course—there are some things that guys will simply never be able to relate to or understand. 

And one day, while the three of you sat at lunch together while Suguru was off with his robotics team, one of your gals leaned over the cafeteria table to poke you with a devious smile and ask the age-old question: who do you like in school?

Your brain had the audacity to picture Suguru first. 

Your friends squealed watching your face blush beet red, but you turned away and never answered the question—only said that you were more focused on school and extracurriculars to help you in college than anything else. 

Where the hell did that come from? 

Suguru was, debatably, your best friend, but that was it. Not that you needed to convince anyone else of that. Just…yourself? Before that day, you never really thought of Suguru in that light. He was this quiet, nerdy, prodigy of a boy who was great at everything and gave you another reason to want to be just as good. You secretly looked up to him, if you wanted to call it that, but you certainly didn’t like him. 

He was just the boy next door. 

The boy next door who was challenging you once again: to push the little hints of affection that had been blossoming aside and dismiss them. Bury them down, keep your eyes on the prize, and finally be rewarded for your efforts. To keep up with him, not fall in love with him. 

On a rare sunny Saturday, a month and a half before school let out for the summer, the two of you sat on his beloved front porch with the future on your minds.  

Suguru picked at the grass growing between the wooden boards. “Thinking about trying something new next year?”

You popped another sugary blackberry from your backyard into your mouth while stretched out on Suguru’s favorite quilt. He couldn’t help but notice how relaxed you looked, drinking up the warm sunbeams on your skin.

“I don’t know,” your arms folded behind your head as you stared at the ceiling, “I love Newspaper, but…I don’t know. I think I wanna branch out.” You just weren’t sure how yet. You had done some research on the high school you’d both be attending next year and ran down the list looking for something to jump out at you. Something you could really put yourself into. You still loved writing and expressing yourself, but there was nothing else besides repeating Newspaper or trying Yearbook (Sugu’s territory). The rest of your options weren’t ideal, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. 

“How about volleyball?”

“Nah.”

“Art club?”

“Mmm-mm.”

He leaned against the wooden railing. “Hmmm, choir?”

You laughed and didn’t even bother to respond to what was clearly a joke. 

He sighed and pensively licked the sugar from his fingers before asking if maybe you’d want to do something together. 

You looked over at him and squinted. “What?” he shrugged.

“You know what.” And he shook his head all innocent-like. Always innocent that Suguru. Effortlessly wrapping everyone around his finger. Your dad, his teachers. Even your trio mentioned him from time to time about how helpful he was. With all the times he went out of his way to make sure you were okay, even you were starting to let your guard down. Watching him now as his ponytail blew softly in the wind, looking so naïve as to what you meant but still wanting to understand, made you blush sick.

Not having much of a reason to actually be so guarded, you made one up. “You tryna go toe to toe with me, Geto?.” Your brow cocked, and you used his last name because you knew it’d get to him. He was fully aware that you only say it when you’re serious, and it’s mostly blurted when you guys go at it on Mario Kart. 

“Just because I said we should do something together?” 

“Yeah, so you can one-up me.” If there was a hobby or favorite pastime that you really enjoyed and might actually be better than good at, you knew it was best to keep it out of Suguru’s reach. Academic and recreational competition needed to remain separate if you wanted to keep your sanity.

Suguru took a breath. If there was one thing he didn’t bother competing with you at, it was arguing. He knew you wouldn't back down if he just sat here and tried to convince you; you’d poke a hole in every counter until he simply gave up. So, instead, he pandered to your inflated ego and told the truth. He chewed his lip. “C’mon, Twin. I promise I won’t. Do it for me.”

His soft purple gaze landed on you, and you got a funny feeling in your stomach that you hadn’t felt before. 

He was serious. 

He really wanted to be at your side trying something new, exploring together—helping each other find yourselves. The shy teen who was as quiet as a mouse and yet a beast of a kid wanted to be right there with you. And he wasn’t afraid to say it.

You cleared your throat and averted his gaze. “Fine,” you agreed, but on one condition, “It stays a hobby, no competing.” And it sounded like you were talking to yourself more than him. “But valedictorian? That’s mine.” And you toss another blackberry into the air and catch it perfectly in your mouth, making Suguru raise his eyebrows.

“That’s a bet,” he said, reaching over to wipe a bit of sugar from the corner of your lips. You swat away his hand and punch his shoulder, but damn him if the gesture didn’t make you feel all weird inside. He faked an “Ow” and rubbed his arm before joining you on the quilt to soak in the sun. You closed your eyes and pretended to float in the breeze whistling through the railing. Even without the hammock, it kind of felt like you were 

“Sooo, what do you wanna do this summer?”

Who knew this core memory of each other’s youth, the moment you finally let his fingers inch across the blanket and softly brush yours without pulling back, would be one of your last? 

Two weeks before break started, after all of your plans for the summer and the following school year had been planned out, it happened. 

To this day, you question the timing of your worst nightmare—just when you thought you were living the dream—coming true.

The Geto’s were moving on up. 

For years, Suguru watched his mom grind in corporate America. It wasn’t new to him; she had one of the hardest work ethics he’d ever seen, but it was on a different level after his family moved to your city. Something in her had changed—the thought of instability. She knew Suguru was used to not seeing her due to long hours at work, but when it started to affect her husband, when it began to shift the family’s dynamic, she knew she had to figure something out, and fast. She could sacrifice her time for the family. She couldn’t sacrifice Suguru’s time with his dad. 

All these years, Suguru’s family pulled themselves up by their bootstraps while Suguru was lost in the bliss of friendship. Mrs. Geto’s hard work paid off, and she got a promotion—on the opposite end of the country. 

The day was bright and sunny when he left, the exact opposite of how you felt watching the beat-up car that had grown on you drive out of the neighborhood. You looked on from your window because you didn’t want him to see you crying, watching, or caring. 

You had been right from the first time you saw him. 

And was back to square one.

You guys tried to stay in touch, you really did, but being in totally different time zones made keeping up with each other a little harder. New apps for your phones, like Snapchat and Instagram, helped a little, but they didn't compare to the late-night phone calls you missed so much. 

At first, Suguru would Snap you about how he was getting on in his new city, neighborhood, and places his family would explore over the summer. The thought of him being someone’s new boy-next-door made your stomach twist. When school rolled around, he’d send Snaps and joke about his preppy new uniform that came with a vibrant red tie and over-starched navy pants. His mom got him into a fancy private school because, of course she would, but they were really strict with phones, so you wouldn’t be able to talk to him until he got home. By the time he did, the sun had already gone down for you, and you’d be too tired from your own after-school activities to keep your eyes open.

You missed Suguru—even your dad missed him and his family terribly. 

You missed him so much that you began to resent him—his new life, fancy school, and new “friends”. Jealousy reared its ugly head, forcing you to put your walls up again. 

Another friend, gone, moved on to bigger and better things. Leaving you behind once again. You had finally found a friend, a real friend, who never made you feel bad—someone you could tell almost all of your secrets to. Who got whisked away. Who you’d give anything to see again and go back to the way things were. 

Though it’d only been five years, you felt like you’d known him your entire life.

It wasn’t fair.

Sometimes I fall But still, I rise To the skies high above  In the clouds my ego Will go where no one knows

Why I am here

And why I try

To defy what I believe What it means to succeed To be won

To be one

To be “the one”

A smoking gun.

“Thank you.”

The cafe filled with snapping fingers as you walked off the stage, heart pounding and a smile plastered on your ducking head. 

Look at you now. Performing in cafes, libraries, open-mics, wherever you could be that called for an audience. Still a little shy, but letting it motivate you and pour out on the floor to be soaked up by the listeners. It was an adrenaline rush, finally finding something you knew belonged to you and being damned good at it. 

No one was better than you at telling the world how you felt while simultaneously mesmerizing an audience with your soliloquy and speech. Words still had a hold on you; you just figured it was better to say them out loud than keep them written down.

���Good job, Bug.” Your dad handed you a hot cup of tea fresh from the counter with your nickname scribbled in big cursive letters across the cup. 

“Dad, please stop calling me that.”

He frowned. “But you’re my little bug.” He threw an arm around you, almost making you spill the hot liquid. 

You groaned and protested. “I’m not a kid anymore.” And took a sip too soon, burning the tip of your tongue. You held it in and swallowed, looking around to see if anyone else saw the scorned look on your face. 

You thought of 15 as one of your prime years and kept yourself busy to prove it. Just a sophomore in high school, Baby had a new hobby: dominating slam poetry. You had taken over the scene in your city with expansion heavy on your mind. Though it was hard for your dad to hear, you were right; you weren’t a kid anymore. But you knew he was just proud of you. More than you could ever know. It made him happy to see you had something no one could take from you. 

With a tsk, you leaned into his hug. You should be thanking him more. When the idea of doing slam poetry first crossed your mind, you were a hot mess (surprise, surprise) at being confident (BIG surprise)—your stage presence was lacking, to be specific. 

On the page, your poems were like water in a desert, but opening your mouth and performing it with your whole chest was…different. 

Fixating on your lines and your rhythm made you want to pull your hair out. It was hard making sure your words sounded like you and would be understood. You needed to be understood. 

You’d practice your performances in front of your dad until you were blue in the face. A show was put on for anyone who would listen. And secretly, you missed Suguru’s presence because he’d be perfect for it.

But you didn’t need him. You were on your way to competing in your first official local competition. All your practice around the city and long hours at home agonizing over your talent for slam poetry built up to that moment—the time to show the world what you had to offer. 

Nothing felt better than holding the gold 1st place medallion between your fingers afterward. Regionals came next, and nothing could have validated your talent more than the medals you took home on top of the prize money your dad stashed away for college. 

It was time to travel, and Nationals was your next target.

You couldn’t describe the feeling of finally being outside your city. The thought of being beyond the walls of home once felt like a hopeless dream. New cities, new friends, new organizations, and new styles of poetry were within your reach. The exhilarating travel that worried your dad put a thrill in your heart. You wanted to see everything—be heard everywhere. Life was full of opportunity and everything it had to offer. 

“So you’re gonna do the group piece and then an individual one, maybe?” 

You leaned against the cool bus window as you and your teammates winded down the road to your next hotel. Over the summer, you traveled with your state’s top slam poetry organization to compete in regional cities around the coast. All of this was practice for the Nationals coming up that August before school started. The day was coming faster than you could imagine. 

“I don’t know about a solo.”

You looked out the window and chewed your bottom lip. Your team lead had been pushing you to do a stand-alone piece for the Nationals for weeks, but you felt far from ready. You were strong in a group, but on your own, looking out into a crowd of people while demanding their attention on an empty stage, the thought made you queasy.

This wasn’t your local library or a small regional contest. Nationals is where you tell the country who you are and why you matter. 

“Hey,” a hand rested on your shoulder, calling you back. “You’ve got this. You deserve this.” 

And you did deserve it. You’d worked too hard and advanced so far in such a short amount of time. You didn’t think you’d get here so fast, but here you were, on a double-decker bus full of others who were just as talented as you, in a place where you belonged. In a place where you didn’t have to try so hard or look for that slight nod of approval to let you know you were seen. 

August was in a hurry to put you on the stage because, before you knew it, it was time to head to California for the Nationals. What better place to begin to live your dreams than in the place where they all come true? Sunny skies, sandy beaches, and the aura of art and performance lingered in the air. It was the complete opposite of where you came from. It felt like home. You could see how Suguru could get easily lost in all. 

You always wanted to visit the West Coast and see how he was living.

It’d be so funny to randomly Snap him after all this time and tell him you were so close, but you decided against it.

Cali was HUGE; there’s no way the competition would just happen to be in his city for you to casually bump into him.

Plus, imagine that awkward reunion after a few years of radio silence.

You two could be completely different people now.

He probably wouldn’t even want to see you.

Maybe you didn’t want to see him.

So many great things happened since his family packed up and left. In fact, without Suguru around, you found yourself excelling more naturally at anything and everything than ever before. Comparisons were a thing of the past, and you knew you had something no one else could take away from you.

Except maybe the competitor going on before you at the Nationals. 

The audience was loud and clearly approving of his killer performance as they ate him up with whistles and snapping fingers. Who needed a mic when you had a voice like that? Easily projecting across the entire venue with every rhythmic pop, beat, and enunciation of his words. You might have met your match or worse. For the first time in your poetic career, you thought you just might lose your winning streak. 

Anxiety convinced you to head back to the holding area. You just needed to run through the lines of your solo only a few more times. You’ve got this. He was nothing. This was nothing. You were taking home first place—absolutely positive that success was literally on the tip of your tongue. Until you saw him. 

The boy with the raven hair. 

Unmistakable and stopping you dead in your tracks as you saw him in the flesh for the first time in 2 years, standing long and tall in the venue. Not in the audience, Not as a stagehand, But in another team’s holding room. As a competitor. 

Your heart plummets into your ass.

What in the fuck was he doing here???

You swiftly ducked behind the wall leading to your team’s holding area, hand flying to your chest to still the thunderous beating. 

Deep breaths, deep breaths. DEEP B R E A T H S. 

Your mouth suddenly became desert dry. The entire summer, you prepared yourself to keep from slipping up—you would suppress the urge to call him, think about him, or wonder where he would be when you were here. You covered all of the bases. But here he was in a place you least expected. In a place you now knew you’d dread seeing him the most. The boy you had become a ghost to was haunting you, but somehow, you knew this would happen.

You only got a quick glance at him before you vanished, but it was enough of a glimpse to notice the chances. And God, were there changes. As teenagers did, both of you had grown out of your prepubescent bodies and into your young adult ones. And while you thought you looked relatively the same with a few upgrades here and there, Suguru had gone through a full-blown glow-up that set yours on fire. 

“Almost ready?” 

You nearly jumped out of your skin. Your teammate followed your line of sight and smirked.  “Know him?”

You shrugged a bit too nonchalantly and said you thought he looked familiar but didn’t. “Shame,” she rested her shoulder on the wall with a dreamy gaze. “He looks like a dream.” 

You turned away before you threw up and realized that you were about to be called up next. The frazzled look on your team lead’s face let you know she’d been looking for you, and you took a synced deep breath when she spotted you. Her hands fell on your shoulders before you went up the stairs to the stage. “You’ve got this.”

I’ve got this. . . You don’t got this. 

Your legs felt like Jell-O walking up the short set of stairs to the black platform in the middle of the stage. You hadn’t been on one this big, in a venue so large, with an audience so vast and eyes in the hundreds. The row of judges sat below you, yet looked so intimidating. Heat engulfed you from the lights above—a literal deer playing the lion in the headlights. Sight zeroed in on the judges, you avoided the audience. Hoping that he isn’t still there because you knew seeing him WOULD freak you out. 

In the silence Between the shattered and oppressed dreams I found, I tore The roar Of my own voice Reclaiming the night

Your lines flowed out of you more naturally than water, eyes closed, unfocused, or hazy as you transformed your surroundings into the scene of your story—the journey from struggle to empowerment—the story of why you deserved to be here. In that moment, there was no one else—not even the judges—just you, the stage, and the song that belonged to you, even if it mattered to no one else.

But it mattered to him. And you didn’t see him until near the end of your set. The familiarity of your voice called him to confirm it for himself. To make sure it was you. He couldn’t believe it. You looked so…powerful. Fully fledged in your adulthood, kicking ass and taking names. Fierce and poetic. The same attitude as the girl he grew up with but in its full realization. 

Your voice cracked a little when you spotted him, completely awe-struck by you, but you played it off like it was part of your set. Damn the boy who had the same gawking eyes that used to watch the neighborhood kids—quiet and longing. You hoped it wasn’t obvious, but Suguru noticed. He knew. He still had some kind of effect on you. He could tell by how quickly you looked away. You still felt a way about him. He wasn’t just a nobody to you. But given the circumstances, he didn’t know whether to love or hate it by the time he took the stage. 

The mic fit snuggly between his fingers. It was rare that someone fully approached it without starting their piece first. You wondered where he was going with this, why he looked a bit tense, why he kept his gaze low—if it could be because of you. You held your breath and crossed your fingers. Once again, it was time to see him in action under the sweltering stage lights. And in seconds, you see your gold medal fleeting. You expected nothing less. 

His voice was lined with melody—a sweet, ethereal flow and a melodious string of vocabulary that wrapped you in an envelope and swaddled you like a baby. He sounded so mature. He sounded so much better…than you. 

The nerdy boy with too-big glasses and cracking voice had been replaced by a young man who towarded over the audience with a long side-bang and gauges in his ears. The red tie around his neck did look absolutely ridiculous like he said, but the rest of his navy blue uniform was tailored to perfection and fit like a glove.

He looked and sounded like where he came from. Money. But he was more than that. You found yourself hanging onto his every word as you watched from out of sight. He couldn’t see that he made your heart thump, but it was begging to fall out of your chest by the second.

This wasn’t about slam poetry anymore. Suguru had entered your arena. Shy, reserved, and knocking the ball out of the park. 

You came in 6th out of over 200 solo acts. Suguru came in 5th. 

You couldn’t even feel good about it because you knew what this meant.

Regionals took over the remainder of your sophomore academic year, but when summer rolled back around, it was time to look Suguru in the face again at almost every out-of-state competition. The West Coast was once a dream—now you dreaded touring the area because you knew he would be there. Performing. Waiting to chew you up and spit you out. 

Over the final two years of high school, you both spent most of your free time hopping around the nation and directly squaring off with each other.

Growing more apart as you did.

Silent hatred brewed and led the way every time you saw him—unmistakably written on your face. 

He chalked it up to the fact that the two of you had changed over the years, and maybe you’d simply outgrown him. But he never thought someone he used to call his best friend could give him a look so cold. With no other choice but to follow your lead, he kept his distance and pretended you weren’t there.

But the way he racked up medal after medal, winning over judges and audiences alike, was loud and clear. With him, you could only hope for second best. Though out-of-state competitions were just practice, losing to him in any capacity was a constant reminder that what was yours, wasn’t anymore. If it ever was. This time, anxiety burned through you instead of helping you. 

During junior year, one of the most pivotal moments of your poetic careers, you met face-to-face again at the Nationals. Both of your organizations fought their way to the semifinals, but as you held your breath waiting for the judges to call his team’s name, silence swept both of you when you realized that neither of you made it to the finals.

Again.

By that summer, you were tired, good and tired of inching closer and closer to third place, then second, but never first in out-of-state competitions where Suguru was in the mix. He was sucking the life out of you, but you couldn’t show it, especially when on stage where you knew he’d have his eyes glued to you.

Then, in August of your senior year, it finally happened; you returned to the Nationals, your final opportunity to win and go international. This time, it was close to your territory, in Georgia. All bets were off. The winner was a toss-up. And what a slap in the face to finally win….and tie with Suguru. 

You sulked on the inside the whole ride home while your teammates cheered and celebrated around you. To them, you’d just made history with your organization being the first in your state to go to the continental competition and have a shot at the World Poetry Slam Championship. 

To you, your freedom of expression kept escaping you. You felt yourself starting to mold into something outside of yourself. Some nights, you lay in bed, unable to sleep hearing Suguru’s rhythmic beats. Analyzing them. Judging them. Mimicking them. Wanting to be like the best. Your foundation was shaking.

At least you didn’t have to worry about the continental competition. Winning wasn’t the point; only earning one of the top 10 high scores to be automatically qualified for the WPSC. 

It was a dream come true.

 But how come it tasted so sour when you stood on that stage, your teammates going absolutely insane in the crowd at the news of you advancing to the international championship, but once again with a score just shy of Suguru’s? 

The two of you were declared the best in your country…and you were sulking. 

It shouldn’t matter; you're one of the top 40 poets in the WORLD, babe! And, for Godsake, a free plane ticket and trip to leave the country was waiting for you with your name on it! Belgian waffles and fountains of chocolate are more than enough reasons to get over yourself and this one-sided beef. 

But your dad still got an earful about it. Weekly chats with him almost always centered around poetry and Suguru ever since you first saw him sophomore year. The closer the world championship came, the sadder you sounded.

“What if I-”

Your dad stopped you. “Don’t even finish that sentence. What have I always said?”

You hugged the phone to your ear, rolling your suitcase back and forth between your legs in the airport terminal. “Bug,” your dad said after a moment’s silence.

You groaned. “We don’t say ‘what-ifs’. We say ‘what is’.”

“And what’s going to happen.”

You looked over to your team lead, soundly napping in the corner. It was the butt crack of dawn, and both of you had gotten to the airport way too early for your liking to make sure you didn’t miss your flight. Your first international flight. You actually had a passport, like??? 

So much had gone into getting you here. Energy. Time. Effort. Trust. Encouragement. People were rooting for you. They wanted to see you win. You wanted to see you win. 

“I’m gonna do my best.”

“Then you’re already a winner, Bug.”

God, your dad was gushy. And God, you loved him for it.

You didn’t feel so bad by the time you watched the sunrise in full bloom through your airplane window.

Pink, orange, and yellow washed over your face, making you feel so small. It wasn’t your first time in the sky, but definitely the most nervous you’d been.

Local papers, blogs, and newsletters featured your name—people knew you now; they had expectations.

A reputation had been made, and now you were in the fight of your life to keep it.

You sighed into your palm with your dad’s words in mind. David was determined to take Goliath down.

Belgium.was.cold.

Like you hadn’t packed nearly thick enough coats, cold. You felt like an idiot. 

You were a lyrical genius but couldn’t even put ‘Belgium in December’ and ‘it might be freezing’ together. But the lobby of your quaint little hotel with hot chocolate on tap was warm and inviting.

Your team lead handed you a cup, and you found yourself missing your teammates. They would have loved this and cheering you on at the top of their lungs.

The feeling was lonely—nerve-wracking. You were in the beautiful country of Germany for a competition, not leisure, so you couldn’t even relish in the fact that you were overseas. At least the food was good. Nervous eating made you binge until you felt sick the night before the competition, but a quick stroll in the brisk morning air made you feel better.

The bus ride to the venue felt like you were about to hop in a boxing ring. And the gloves were off.

Crossing the threshold into a space full of chosen people was like marveling at the diamonds of top-society. And you were one of them. Your team lead walked by and closed your gaping mouth with a smile. “Chin up, dear.” And disappeared into the crowd.

You had never met a foreigner before, and now you were being thrust into a venue full of different skin tones, accents, languages, and ages. It would’ve been even more overwhelming had it not been for the smell of coffee wafting through the air and reminding you of your last safe space for poetry before you went pro. With half an hour left until the competition, you thought exploring a little wouldn’t be a bad idea.  

The venue was dark and moody, perfect for setting the atmosphere and circulating the rising tension in your body. The main stage basked against the background of darkness under a single warm light that cast a circular glow. Your final destination. His burial sight. 

Suguru was nowhere to be found, but by the looks of the thick crowd shuffling in to fill their seats, it was easy to get lost. You met back with your team lead to run your rhythms a few more times. 

“Please don’t say it.” And she laughs, giving you a small nod and shoulder squeeze.

You still hear it in your head. You’ve got this.

But man, were these poets giving you a run for your money.

It was exhilarating and terrifying—a glaring reminder of why you were here among the best.

Translations were available on the screens behind the performers as you ping-ponged between their words and their expressions. Both demanded your attention and the crowd’s.

But so did you and Suguru when you both breezed through the semifinals.

For a second, you thought he hadn’t made it to the venue at all when you looked for him during your performance. But he let you and everyone else know he was in the building when he graced that stage. A hush fell over the space, and even you felt your face go soft while watching him.

He more than deserved that advance, but you weren’t done just yet.

After a brief intermission—the DJ wasn’t playing any games—you turned the corner to line up for the final round when you collided at 100mph with Suguru. 

“Fu— oh.” You held your arm as you looked at him—really taking him in. When he was on stage, you noticed he wasn’t in his usual uniform, but up close, the alternative was definitely a choice. The loose black tee ruffled as he smoothed his bang. 

“Sorry.” 

He rubbed his shoulder and kept his eyes low. His hands stuffed into his black cargos as he looked away, not wanting to upset you. Or see the look of resentment on your face. You could tell he knew he made you uncomfortable, but you didn’t know how different he wished things could have been. Hurt was written all over the face of your childhood best friend, and you never knew Suguru to be upset about anything. 

You cleared your throat. “Good luck.”

His head drew back like he’d seen a ghost. His lips parted. Then he kind of smiled, leaning against the wall—looking at you for a moment. You were so grown up and had accomplished so much. Suguru was fully aware that you hated his guts and was so proud of you—even if you didn’t need him anymore. 

He reached out to shake your hand. “Good luck, Twin.” 

Your heart thumped—no one had called you that in 4 years—sweet and low from honeyed lips. Suguru’s hand lingered in your air for a second before you gingerly took it. Soft and warm. Just like you remembered but stronger—firmer. The gloves were off for him, too.

Things were done a bit differently for the final rounds. Instead of holding deliberations for the end of the rounds after everyone had gone, everyone got their votes front and center from five random audience members. Paddles would fly in the air, displaying the scores to be tallied up and held until the end. Thank God you could do quick math. Numbers were racking up—bone-chilling talent was on full display.

You were amazed, laughing, shocked. Every set was different from the last. The crowd fell into a hush when one guy came on stage and laid straight down. Bareback to ground. Then started firing off rhythmic jokes that made you laugh at some and ponder the seriousness of others. Dark humor often has truth in it. 

Most sets were in a completely different language yet spoken so beautifully that you dug your nails into your palms to keep from crying. Emotion was universal. And you were feeling a lot of them.

Suguru walking onto the stage snapped you out of it as you watched from the other side of it. 

Though you’d just seen him a few minutes ago, this was a completely different light. Something had shifted.

Nice to meet you My name is Suguru Oh really? So is mine! It’s nice to meet you too.

Tell me what you’re like, what do you like to do? Lately, I’m not sure Was hoping for a breakthrough

In a world where masks are sticky and glue I’m lost in a maze with no clear view Doubt will cling like morning dew Caught in the storm of shifting hues

If you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought Suguru was having a mental breakdown.

Your jaw tightened.

It was the most unexpected thing you could’ve imagined that made you fidget with your clothes. And this was just the beginning of the journey through his paradoxical mind. His ship was sinking.

And he was taking you all down with him.

…I wear many faces each one feels new, But none will fit like I want it to Left with a voice that is small and untrue Burying deep I don't know what to do

In this mirror, I’m searching for clues, But this reflection is oddly askew. You scream through the glass, “Stay real and stay true!” But if you’re me, then…who are you?

You could hear a pin drop.

Suguru himself stopped breathing.

He couldn’t believe that he actually did it. He had never been so vulnerable.

If you thought you knew him and what he was going through before, you were left stunned and corrected. You saw a few of his scores float into the air throughout the audience, and though you couldn’t see them all, the few you did were perfect 10s. It would’ve been hell to go directly after that—thankfully, you had a few more people before you. 

Time crept closer and closer to your set—nervous sweats and fidgeting fingers kept you company. So much for keeping a hobby a hobby, you thought, pacing backstage. This wasn’t fun for you anymore; it was always supposed to be fun, easy, natural. But this was no longer just about you. It never was. It was about proving anyone who ever doubted wrong.  

When the host called your name, you made those 3 minutes on stage feel like your last.

Rain, rain don’t go away, You’re the only one who stays, Cross my heart and hope to die I promise that I will not cry

Build and build and There it goes! All for naught and just for show Hypnotize your guards to grave Leave the trust to fade away

This was your final plea to be heard by the world if you had ever made one. A letter to those who ever dismissed, ignored, or left you. Fire and brimstone poured from the pit of your soul—served up on a plate with the audience in mind but Suguru as the guest of honor. 

You thought he’d be away in the dressing room or at least within earshot, but no. He stood tall and bright, leaning against the door frame that led out of the hall, backlit by the warm lights that framed his figure, watching.

Listening.

Knowing the poem was partially about him.

You hoped it hurt him as much to hear it as it did for you to write it.

Deep breaths kept your voice steady—he wouldn’t hear it crack this time as you powered through your trembles. Bold and brash. Unleashing your truth. He saw it in your eyes and unconsciously did the only thing he knew to support you—the small nod of approval. 

Years had passed. Envy had pushed you to avoid him. He accepted that you no longer saw him as a friend, yet he still wanted to show his support. 

And it pissed you off.

…Lo and behold the savior's light Here to take another flight Take me by my desperate hand Lead how you only can Fragile like a gentle rose I will follow where you go.

Shadows whisper of the known What it feels to be alone.

You walked off stage before you could see your final scores. Whatever would be was now out of your hands—the relief felt agonizingly sweet.

Your team lead wrapped you in her arms as you silently cried. You didn’t know how long the tears had been building up, but the release was like a dam burst. Crying on your first international trip to Belgium. Nice. 

A final intermission was left, and the scores were tallied. You guzzled down some water and took a few breaths before meeting the rest of the contestants. Finally, finally, you and Suguru stood side by side again on stage. Your entire history had built up to this moment—ready to declare a winner. His pinky brushed yours, sending sparks to your belly like that day on his porch. Head down, you waited for a name to be called. Any name, every name, would be better than—

“Suguru Geto.”

And it rolled off their tongue naturally.

Suguru stiffened beside you like he couldn’t believe it himself as they motioned for him to come forward. In your mind, everything went quiet. You couldn’t feel anything but emptiness in the pit of your stomach. Not even anger.

It wasn’t.fucking.fair.

Before he moved a muscle to claim the spotlight, he turned to you, daring to offer his hand again. But it felt less like a “Job well done!” and more like a pitiful “I’m sorry.” And you had had enough of condolences. 

You turned away and left the stage in the midst of the raging applause for Suguru. No one else may have caught the cold shoulder, but to Suguru, it felt like he was trapped in ice. He could leave your life forever now for all you cared—this was your one, final chance to make things even between you two. But reality was a bitch. You couldn’t get away from him quick enough.

Yes, you’ve gotten to travel the country. Yes, you got the opportunity of a lifetime to go overseas just off your hard work alone, but all of that meant nothing if you were only second best. 

It was redundant. 

What was the point in even trying? You would never be good enough to stand on your own. Always under his shadow, drowning in his wake.

You brushed past your team lead, contestants—anyone trying to tell you how amazing you did. You couldn’t stand being bathed in lies and beelined out the back of the venue. 

“Fuck this.” Your breath escaped you as you pushed the door open.

The contrast of sharp, cold air whipped your face, making you realize you didn’t grab your jacket, but it was just what you needed to set the gravity of your situation. 

You were nothing. 

You bawled your fists.

And foolish for trying. 

Hyperventilating.

Look at what you came from. Look at what you get for trying to change that.

Hot, fat tears spilled down your face as you huddled in a corner of the building. You wrapped your arms around your knees, trying to shield the icy winds, but you already felt dead inside. Pathetic and worthless. It was out of your hands to change that.

A voice called after you, belonging to the last person you wanted to see right now. That soft, angelic voice that swooned the world and made your insides boil. Why couldn’t he just get it?? Why couldn’t he stay the fuck away??

You thought you had hidden yourself well by putting a bit of distance between the exit and the corner you tucked into, but he found you in seconds, tears dried on your face, crouching into your knees. He stood there gaping, completely overwhelmed by the state of you. For once, he was out of words.

“Well??” It was hoarse and cracking. 

“I-I’m—”

“Oh my God, pLEASE fucking save it!” You shook, burying your head into your arms.

It was enough that he got to bask in your pathetic breakdown with front-row seats to how bothered you were. He didn’t need to pretend he didn’t enjoy it, you thought.

But Suguru was fed up with your bullshit and came looking to tell you about it. The final straw was leaving his extension of sympathy high and dry as you walked off stage. Giving him the ultimate “fuck you” in his moment of congratulations. 

He never understood why you hated him—the resentment, what happened, what he’d done. But he was about to make you explain yourself. 

“Get up.” Gentleness left his voice. He came closer and towered over your petite frame, cornering you so you couldn’t run away. “You think I don’t know how much this meant to you?”

When you didn’t answer, he crouched down to your level. 

“Hey.” 

You buried yourself deeper. 

“Hey.”

“Don’t touch me.” You brushed him away, pressing your back into the wall as you stood up, shivering in the wind.

After a moment of looking your bitterness in the face, it finally clicked for Suguru. “You’re jealous.”

And that set you off. “HA!” It almost hurt to laugh. “Jealous?!” People could probably hear you inside the venue. But Suguru knew just what to say to get you to talk. 

“This whole time, I thought you were upset because I left, but…you’re just jealous.”

You snorted. “You’ve never worked hard a day in your life.”

“What? You don’t think I earned this?”

“Who knows? Mommy buys you everything.”

“Woah,” he held up a hand and laughed, “Is that what this is about?” 

Your cheeks burned hot, but you had egg on your face and had just spilled the beans. 

Fire raged in your chest. “You could have had anything else. Anything! Anything in the world, but you just had to take this from me.”

“How was I supposed to know??” he cut you off, “You stopped talking to me.” 

You felt a pang and fell silent—flurries of unread texts, unopened Snaps, and missed calls played in both of your minds. 

“How was I supposed to know anything? How was I supposed to have anything without making you feel bad?” 

“Me?” You scoffed. “Without me, you’d probably still be sitting on that dusty porch (you loved that porch), watching everyone go and live their lives.”

“I was like 7.”

“9.” You rubbed the goosebumps on your arms.

“Whatever, you think I owe you or something? You want a ‘thank you’?”

His tone made you shift, but you puffed up your chest. “No, I don’t need a thank you,” and your eyes narrowed, “I’m just not that impressed.”

He smirked, swinging his arms and looking away. “You’re full of it.”

“You’re not that talented.”

He cocked his head, raising a brow. You questioned his talent—clearly emotional and spewing lies— but it was a shot at his credibility nonetheless. 

His smirk faltered as he clasped his hands. “You wanna go?” And then he got closer. Your breath caught as he studied your face, his left arm shooting out to frame you, pinning you into the corner.

The heat radiating off his body should have been a comfort in the frosty air. But it made you feel other things, too. 

He leaned over you. “How would you like to eat your words? Fried? Or sautéed?”

His eyes bore into yours, daring you to buck up or back down. 

“Bite me, Get—”

Instead, he kissed, his lips capturing yours in a way that shot electricity down your spine. It was the first time he stole the breath right out of your body, and you swore you felt your pupils turn into hearts. For so long, he's wanted to do that—kiss your sweet, supple lips that ramble nonsense and shut you up—bridge the gap between your broken friendship to ask for more—make all your fire, resistance, and anger melt away...so you could come back to him. You swooned and nearly staggered—knees weak and relying on the walls to keep you up when his hand cradled your hip to hold you. Your heart burst. You pulled away, leaving space between to see your heated breaths in the chilly air as he rested his forehead on yours—then slapped him.

“How’s that for poetry?” And left. 

note: this story took a TOTALLY different turn from what i originally planned (thanks Mac Miller) but omg it's sO much better and kinda fits into all of the sugu angst i have planned (oh how i love to hurt myself so). this story in particular was supposed to be like all smut and no exposition but um…things happen 😅 sO, all of the low-angst, ‘enemies’ to lovers lives in part 1, with a focus on the resolution in part 2: lovers who give in and chose each other arc while remaining focused on my original goal of making a smut that spotlights and actualizes realistic sex. learning each other, listening, patiently growing, and choosing.

[rotruff]

really really good fic and then they suddenly started giving reader an actual name and background what if i exploded

[sirenofthegreenbanks]

i went back into coding (which i havent done in literal months because of Reasons) and learning mandarin (which i havent done in literal weeks now approaching months because of similiar Reasons) and it sweeps my brain clean and waters my crops and does things for me writing never does

[insaneillusionist]

AUGH WHY ARE TITLES SO HARD?

[sweeterlovers]

FOR YOU / CHARLES LECLERC + LOGAN SARGEANT

logan sagreant x leclerc ex & youtuber reader / SMAU FIC

FACE CLAIM / addy kate

WARNINGS / cheating and logan is still on the grid with williams

-

INSTAGRAM

liked by f1gossip, f1girlfriends, and 56,825 others

f1wagupdates Charles Leclerc and his girlfriend Y/N L/N have broken up. They announced through instagram!

view all comments

user6 i wonder why they broke up???

user11 THEY WERE SO CUTE WTF

user00 he lost a 10/10

user8 did you guys notice how they didn’t say it was a mutual decision??

user7 i think charles cheated (again)

user33 once a cheater always a cheater

user0 she probably deserved it

user44 BFFR

user66 💔 💔 💔

user9 give it a day and we’ll find out what really happened

user6 what do you know?????

user9 the truth always come out

user24 they were so cute

-

TWITTER

-

INSTAGRAM

liked by yourbsf, charles_leclerc, and 178,626 others

yourusername in my reputation era 🖤

view all comments

user2 mother is mothering

user99 modern princess diana

user0 gorgeous

yourbsf his loss

yourusername ❤️❤️

user77 the fact that he’s still liking her posts

user1 ✨ O B S E S S E D ✨

user3 the dress is adorable 🎀🎀

user262 going to miss seeing her in the paddock

user3 logan and y/n were my favorite americans on the grid

user986 she should get with logan 😭😭

user22 ughhhh she’s too pretty

user4 reputation taylor’s version????

user555 it’s a need

yourusername i would die if she announced it

user6 we love a swiftie

user3 i hate how charles never took her to the eras tour……

-

INSTAGRAM

liked by yourbsf, logansargeant, and 162,626 others

yourusername sometimes you just need to have a night out with your girls ❤️🖤

view all comments

yourbsf I LOVE YOU

yourusername love u too

user2 gorgeous girls

yourfriend 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

yourfriend prettiest

yourusername literally you

-

MESSAGES

logansargeant

hey! i was wondering if i could perhaps take you out on a date when i land in florida?

yourusername

when do you land?

logansargeant

tomorrow morning! i can pick you up from your house?

yourusername

i would love to!

-

INSTAGRAM

liked by logansargeant, yourbsf, and 346,618 others

yourusername cute dress & good food ❤️🖤🤍

view all comments

user5 ugh she looks AMAZING

user88 she’s glowing!!!!!

user1 it’s the post breakup glow!

yourbsf ANSWER THE GROUPCHAT

yourfriend WE NEED DETAILS!!!’

yourusername OMG YOU TEXTED ME LIKE 100 TIMES

yourbsf AND????? we need details 🤞🤞

yourfriend WE ARE DRIVING TO YOUR HOUSE RN

user51 this is so real

user7 gotta debrief

user6 she looks so good in red!

user00 i wonder why logan is always liking her posts

user23 is he the boy?????

user63 that would be crazy

-

INSTAGRAM

liked by logansargeant, yourfriend, and 143,728 others

yourusername post swim 🌊🌊🪸🪸

view all comments

user1 gorgeous girl

user77 she’s so hot i can’t

logansargeant 🌴🌴

yourusername ???

user2 how does one look so good after swimming????

user666 FOR REAL!!!!! she looks like she came out of a modeling shoot while i look like a seal

user9 😍😍😍

yourbsf PRETTIEST GIRL

yourusername I LOVE UU

yourbsf ⏳⏳⏳

user4 if i was charles i would be at her door with flowers and a boom box

user8 he lost a BADDIE

user4 but logan gained one 💪💪

yourfriend literal model 🙏🙏🙏🙏

yourusername ❤️❤️❤️❤️

user342 showing this to my plastic surgeon

-

INSTAGRAM

liked by yourusername, yourbsf, and 785,611 others

logansargeant i’m making this post while your sleeping on my lap (post swim) i can’t help but feel so much love for you. you are the embodiment of sunshine. you light up the room. these past few months with you have been the highlight of my life. having someone like you beside me has truly lit up my world. who knew that someone’s lost and mistake would change my life forever. i hope that in 10 years you will still be by my side, on our porch, in our house in florida. i love you y/n, thank you for taking a chance on me 🫶🫶

view all comments

user4 THIS IS SO ROM COM CODED

user33 charles could never

yourbsf logan i was skeptical at first, knowing how broken y/n was but you have seriously made y/n so so happy. this is the happiest a boy has ever made her. those couple of months with you has truly changed her. i could care less about the backlash my comment might cause but thank you for treating my best friend the way charles couldn’t.

logansargeant your approval genuinely means so much

user3 the greenest flag

yourusername i’m crying right now, i love you logan i truly do. thank you for showing me what a boyfriend should be like. i can’t wait to have a future with you. (i need to make a post to one up you)

logansargeant i love you too, don’t worry you can post anything and i’ll give you it all ❤️i’ll let you beat me in anything

yourusername AWWW YOU REALLY LOVE ME

logansargeant i really do

-

INSTAGRAM

liked by logansargeant, yourbsf, and 326,171 others

yourusername thank you for teaching me what love truly feels like

comments are limited on this post

logansargeant i love you so so much

yourusername i love you too

yourfriend 🤍🤍🤍

yourbsf “he’s a good man savannah”

yourusername LMAO

yourusername on a real note he really is a good man

-

TEAM RADIO / SWEETERLOVERS - i had this idea in my notes app for a while and i actually did it!!!

[xmarchwarden-of-lothlorienx]

Two Halves of the Same Whole

Legolas x gn!elf!reader

Requested (Kinda): @legolastaint

Summary: “Ughhhh i NEED someone to write a legolas x reader fic where you just get to be feral little guys together. Please!!! I want running through the woods barefoot together, i want playing pretend!! I want catching bugs and frogs and the like and marvelling at their beauty!!! I want playing in a creek and catching fish and crawdads and shiny rocks!!! I want playing and making things out of all of our little found object collections!!! I want hanging out outside in the rain or during a thunderstorm!!! And i dont want it to be platonic!! I want this to be love!!!!!!!! I want this to be our affection for each other!!!!!!!”

Author’s Note: I hope I captured the vibe you wanted! As a feral little gremlin that grew up in the country, I’ve also wanted more fics like this :) It is a little short, but if you like it I can and will write more <3

The cold water of the creek was a direly needed refreshment. You had stripped off your boots, rolled up your pant legs, and were now wading in the shallow water. A splash from a few feet upstream told you that Legolas had decided to join you.

"Meleth nin, are you sure our friend won't mind us being late?"

"No, he will understand," you hummed. "Especially if we find a gift to bring him." The pair of you were on your way to visit a new friend, Willard, that resided in his own small corner of the Greenwood.

That is, you were on your way until you could no longer ignore the call of the creeks cooling waters. You intended to depart for Willard's home earlier, before the heat peaked for the day, but Legolas had been very particular when selecting wildflowers. He insisted the finishing touch for today's picnic be a marvelous bouquet that Willard could admire during the time before your next visit. After showing you the final product, you agreed with his vision, but now you needed a break from walking in the heavy heat of the afternoon.

"And what sort of gift would he like most," Legolas questioned.

"I think we will know when we find it." You scanned the creek bed for a glimmer of any long lost trinkets to gift your friend. The only thing to catch your eye was a school of small, shimmering fish coming to say hello in the water surrounding your legs. You softly laughed as they tickled and brushed against you.

"Do we have something that the little fish may enjoy," You called out to Legolas and gestured to your new acquaintances. A gentle smile, touched with affection at your care for even the smallest of creatures, spread across his face.

"I shall look, meleth nin." He returned to where he'd left the picnic basket on the shore, looking for something suitable to give the fish among what you packed. Legolas settled on some apples slices that he could further dice to a smaller size.

While bringing the bits of apple to you, something peeking out from the creeks sandy bottom caught his attention. He bent down and scooped it from the sand, gently swishing it around in the water to clean it off. The little treasure was a stone, more of a gem really, no bigger than a large coin, yet Legolas knew that this was it.

Legolas approached you, a grin plastered across his face as he presented the stone to you - its colorful and translucent surface resembling stained glass, smoothed and polished from the water. You let out a gasp, throwing your arms around him and nearly sending both of you tumbling into the water.

"It's perfect," you brushed a few stray strands of his hair away and pressed a kiss to his temple. "I know Willard will absolutely adore it."

-

You were walking side-by-side with Legolas, your hands intertwined while his free hand carried the picnic basket and yours carried the precious stone. The two of you were now approaching the large willow tree that marked Willard's dwelling.

You halted once you reached the tree, rapping the trunk with your knuckles a couple times, "Willard, we're here!" You shot a glance towards Legolas who had lowered and started to unpack the picnic basket. Kneeling down to a small gap where the tree's roots met the ground, you peaked inside, "Willard?" Your voice was met with a soft thud as Willard, the large toad that lived beneath the willow tree, hopped out of his abode to greet you.

"There he is," Legolas chimed in. "Perhaps we left him waiting too long and he laid down for his afternoon nap," he commented as he set plates and food down for the three of you.

"Maybe," You sighed, drawing your eyebrows together. "But I think our lateness will be forgiven once he sees his gift. Here," you placed the shiny stone several inches in front of Willard, who immediately hopped over to inspect it further.

"I think he loves it already, meleth nin," Legolas observed while passing you a flask of water to fill your cup with.

"I agree, I think you certainly have an eye for treasure, Legolas," a satisfied grace spread across your features.

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your lips, "I think I most certainly do."

[training4theapocalypse]

PLEASE do what Scots actually say I’m so curious

Soap x Reader Scottish Dialogue Inspo

To celebrate Burns Night, here are some realistic smutty Scottish terms and some general stuff to do with relationships. Feel free to use this if you find it helpful 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

Disclaimer: my tiny country is made up of countless accents and Soap is canonically from Kilmarnock but his voice actor is from Elgin so who TF knows what he’d actually say.

I also don’t think you need to write in Scots either - I’m Scottish and I don’t (unless am absolutely ragin aboot somethin’) but I can see why you’d want to for Soap’s dialogue. 

Behave yersel’

This is easy - it’s just ‘behave yourself’ but it can be used as a smutty admonishment.

“I’ll sleep on the couch - you take the bed.”

“Behave yersel’,” says Soap, unfastening his belt.

Bonny / Bonnie

Spell it whichever way you like. This is primarily an adjective but I see it used as a noun in fic. All. The. Time. It was used a long time ago as a noun - and maybe it still is further north - but where I / Soap are from it's really only used as an adjective these days.

“What do you think of the new recruit, Captain?”

“Aye, she’s bonny, awryt.”

But use this sparingly - and only to describe a person as a whole and not individual body parts. (e.g. you wouldn’t say “Your tits are so bonny.”) 

Darlin’ / Doll

The two most common pet names I hear from men here. It is ROUGH as anything and makes me melt. Ughhhh. 🥵

“D’ye like whit ye see, doll?”

Fuckin’ hell

An exclamation that’s pretty ubiquitous across the UK. Soap would 100% say this after sex or if he was surprised by something that made him horny. From clips of Soap I’ve seen I know he says “Steamin’ hell” too but I’ve never heard this IRL.

You sit in Soap’s office, perched on his desk wearing your new lingerie.

He opens the door and freezes, jaw on the floor.

“… Fuckin’ hell.”

Gads 

This is a very specific Kilmarnock / Ayrshire thing (which is where Soap’s file says he’s from). And it comes from a very old-timey phrase ‘egads!’ which is hilarious to me.

Gads can be used as an exclamation for something shocking (OR something cringe depending on the context).

“You honestly think that I snuck into your room because my bed was uncomfortable? I want you to fuck me, Soap.”

He swallows. “... Gads.” 

Gantin’ for it

AKA Gagging for it. Juvenile way to describe being horny. Soap would probably say this about himself in a jokey way. 

“You alright, Soap?”

“Aye, aye. I’ve just been gantin’ for it ever since that new lassie joined.”

Lassie / Lass

Girl. Younger. (Pop off age difference fics)

Missus

Literally “Mrs” but surprisingly not just used to refer to your wife. Really commonly used to refer to a girlfriend.

“Look, whatever the missus wants she gets. Awryt?”

Wee (insert expletive)

Literally call me whatever you want as long as you put ‘wee’ in front of it. Wee bitch, wee slag, wee slut (omggggggg). 

Soap tuts, as you writhe against his thigh. “Yer an impatient wee thing, aren’t ye?”

Anyway, that's all I've got for now- if I think of any more, I'll add to this. You don't need to credit me if you actually use this - I like to think of it as service to my country 🫡

P.S. This made me realise I've only ever had sex with Scottish people so maybe some of this is just normal sex stuff and not Scotland specific???? HAHAHAHA

P.P.S. I was getting really into the dialogue so I've written a short fic about Reader x Soap.

[mcytshipsandmore]

LISTEN because if snowbugs is a thing in the next life series, I am going to go INSANE

I am so hyper about THEM and I just--- need them to be a thing!!

Because we had FH in 3rdL, Ranchers in DL, and snowbugs crumbs in SL, but imagine in the next one: snowbugs!!!

How would this happen? You may ask, WELL!! There are multiple factors!!!

To tease the fans. They KNOW we are insane, they know of the shoppers existence, so they'd do that.

A life bond thing, like DL, where their lifes are randomised together (let's be honest, we know it wasn't randomised. Grian chose him and Scar to be together, ect), or something similar (COUGH that one flower ranchers fic everyone has read COUGH) where they have to be together

Scott finds Tango in the wild and says 'mine' and we go mad

I LOVE THEM UGHHHH

(This isn't RPF, btw)

I completely agree. Next season Sxott just needs to drag Tango away so they can team

(also what is that one flower ranchers fic that everyone has read, asking for a friend)

-🍫

[ken-dom]

Kiss

Driver x gn!reader

750 words

Summary: Driver has fantasised about kissing you for so long that when it finally happens his arousal becomes overwhelming

Author’s notes: I couldn’t stop thinking about the headcanon that he gets off to the thought of kissing, which is both my own headcanon, and which I’ve read in almost every Driver fic and headcanon post I’ve seen. So of course I wrote my own a little drabble about it...

I originally posted this to my main blog but I'm re-posting all my work here to have everything in one place due to an unresolved tagging issue on my main

Warnings/content: nsfw — smut, gn!reader, kissing, making out, premature ejaculation, hinted handjob, voyeurism, mention of masturbation, glove kink

At first it wasn’t clear who started it. It was most likely you, when you plucked the toothpick from between his teeth, biting your lip as you eyed him. At some point, you’d leant into each other and each pushed the other back in equal measures. It blurred in the haze of rapture.

There came a clear change when you thrust a hand up into his soft hair and he dropped back against the sofa cushions, naturally pulling you with him.

While he melted into the cushions your thighs naturally straddled his, and your bodies pressed flush together in such a way that he began to tremble at the contact.

The only sound was the combination of his ragged breathing and your steady panting, slipping out between satisfied, crashing lips, breath hot against each others mouths between needy kisses. Until your tongue pushed into his mouth.

Your hands ran from his hair, stroked at his throat and glided over his chest.

His heart raced. He wondered if you’d be able feel it beating through his ribcage as you touched him.

He hoped you were feeling the same thrill that he was.

The same electricity tingling through your nerves, the same heat rushing to pool between your thighs, the same desperate need to be kissed so intensely, so deeply, that you wouldn't remember to breathe.

He couldn’t think about it for too long though; your mouth on his was hot and wet and soft and firm and tender and a thousand times better than the fantasy he’d spent far too many lonely nights replaying and perfecting.

It was too much and it wasn’t enough. He was dizzy and he was floating. And he was simmering already, his cock throbbing painfully inside his jeans, slick with precum and pressing, hot and hard, against your body.

One little shift of your hips and-

‘Ohh... ughhhh-’

All it took was a single moan. One quiet, sensual moan from you.

It was mostly swallowed by his mouth and vibrated against his tongue, and as he felt it, as he heard it, he spilled uncontrollably into his underwear, cock twitching through the aching bliss of feeling so incredibly turned on, untouched yet finding release.

It wouldn’t be the first time he’d felt this way. He'd been embarrassingly horny before, but he'd been alone then. And if he was alone now, simply watching you from a distance or playing out this fantasy in his mind, he could easily slip his hand down inside his jeans and bring himself off, hard and fast, the leather of his driving gloves fooling his brain just enough to believe it could be your hand.

In this moment though — this real moment — he had wanted to take his time with you. He would seriously need to learn how to pace himself if he was going to be able to satisfy you. This wouldn't do at all.

But for now, it was too late. Fuck. The strength of his orgasm overtook any rational thought and a low, guttural groan pierced your kiss, his fingertips suddenly driving hard into your flesh as he held your hips still against his twitching cock.

God, it was better than any fantasy. He’d never replicate this feeling again on his own. Not without your kiss. And as he came down from his peak, his cheeks turning red, he supposed there wouldn’t be a next time.

But you moaned again. Louder this time, playfully biting and sucking at his bottom lip and lapping at his tongue.

You liked it? You liked that he couldn’t control himself long enough to get through a simple kiss without cumming in his pants like a horny teenager? That this was his fantasy? That more than bending you over his car or fucking up into your pretty mouth from the drivers seat, he wanted to feel your tongue slide against his?

Fuck.

Your fingers began to work his jeans open and a flash of panic struck him in the gut. Maybe you hadn’t realised, but you soon would, slipping your unsuspecting hand into his underwear, wet through with a generous helping of his cum before you'd even tried to touch him.

Ah. Relief. You'd not broken the kiss and as you prepared to touch him, he felt the familiar pulls of arousal once again.

Familiar, but with the added sensation of his cock still tender with the aftershocks of his all too recent release.

You sighed as your fingers wrapped around his hardening length, pleased with what you found.

It felt good. You felt good.

[jarofstyles]

Book Recs

This is literally all over the place and I read a lot of diff tropes, I realize now I read a lot of dark romance which makes sense why Reaper is one of our best fics lol (maybe I need to write more dark harry? Lmk)

But here’s a mixed bag. I’ve read over 400 books in the last 2 1/2 years (again idk I go through them fast lol) and if you want more recommendations in certain genres I’d be happy to do so!

A lot of these are series recommendations as well because I tend to be a serial series reader and I’m trying to find more one offs so if you have any recs I’m so willing to read and tell you what I think!

As always, check TWs before reading and let me know if you’ve read any of these and your thoughts!!!

——

Chestnut Springs series by Elsie Silver- smut is good, (especially in heartless bc a dad x nanny trope ughhhh)

Sinners Anonymous series by Somme Sketcher (search TW)

Windy City series by Liz Tomforde (book 2 is my favorite)

Carolina Reapers series by Samantha Whiskey (hockey romance is one of my faves)

The Sweetest Oblivion- Danielle Lori (mafia, I love the dynamic, search TW)

Little Dove by Layla Frost (gives me 2013 wattpad energy where y/n is sold to 1d but it is dark, age gap, check TW)

Best Kase scenario by Layla Frost- (kase does some asshole shit but he’s one of my faves of her characters)

It Happened One Summer by Tessa Bailey (she’s a hit or miss author for me but I do enjoy some of her books and the smut is some of the better I’ve read in published stuff)

The Seven series Mageriverse by Dannika Dark (shifter/werewolf series, lots of action. Smut isn’t incredible but I’ve loved the series for a while)

Dreamland Billionaires series by Lauren Asher

Dark and Dirty Sinner’s Series by Serena Aekroyd (check TW, mc romance so there’s violence and definitely dark as the series implies)

Wait With Me series by Amy Daws

Bittersweet by Morgan Elizabeth (also gives me wattpad vibes, lowkey imagined Harry as the mmc lol)

Highest Bidder by Sara Kate (check TW, age gap)

PS You’re Intolerable by Julia Wolf (I liked this series but this is by far the best one in it, boss x assistant, asshole but soft for her, fmc is pregnant and it’s not his)

[nightcolorz]

you’re so right Mitski is so Armand i would listen to you explain this for hours but for now here are some songs I consider very armand

-Liquid Smooth (I'm liquid smooth, come touch me too, And feel my skin is plump and full of life, I'm in my prime) Just very armand feeling though his worth is directly linked to his beauty, but also feeling like he doesn’t own his own body because of this, feeling the need to have other people always validate this belief by wanting him for his body and his beauty

- I Don’t Smoke (So if you need to be mean, Be mean to me, I can take it and put it inside of me) Of course this is very armand and I know you know that from your fic title, and it does fit loumand particularly well in the books or in the show, its just very them

- Bug Like An Angel (When I'm bent over, wishin' it was over, Makin' all variety of vows I'll never keep, I try to remember the wrath of the devil, Was also given him by God) Not only the Angel symbolism that’s brought up so much with Armand, but this passage in particular is so heartbreakingly armand, in relation to both his religious beliefs and connections, and his sexual trauma

- Working for the Knife (I used to think I'd be done by twenty, Now at twenty-nine, the road ahead appears the same, Though maybe at thirty, I'll see a way to change) This song gives me very show!armand vibes as feel like the desperate hopeless of the song really fits with his own self sabotaging behaviours, it very much feels like a song about trapping yourself in a prison of your own making. Plus, the “working for the knife” is so Armand doing everything for things that will only destroy him. Also, the passage I chose is soo show Armand to me, with him being in his late 20s. Wishing he would have been “done” (dead) by 20 when he was Marius’ slave, to feeling in the same position at 27, though having been 27 for 500 years so he will never reach 30 and find a way to change. ;(

- Me and My Husband (And at least in this lifetime, We're sticking together, Me and my husband, We're sticking together) This song gives me very show loumand vibes, in the way that Armand knows it is built on lies and nothing, but still feeling that desperate need for companionship, sticking with Louis even if there is no love or if his love is not reciprocated.

- Your Best American Girl ( You're the sun, you've never seen the night, But you hear its song from the morning birds, Well, I'm not the moon, I'm not even a star) + (And you're an all-American boy, I guess I couldn't help trying to be your best American girl) I think this song fits very well with both Devil��s Minion (with Armand desperately wanting to learn about the modern world of America from Daniel) and Armandstat (with Lestat as a fledgling vampire showing himself off to the world, when Armand has been hiding himself in the cult for 300 years, but Armand’s darkness and knowledge and beliefs about vampirism not being enough for Lestat)

I could really keep going but some others i think are very armand include A Pearl, Goodbye My Danish Sweetheart, I Bet On Losing Dogs, Brand New City, Townie, and Washing Machine Heart

BELIEVE ME WHEN I SAY THAT LITERALLY ALL THESE SONGS (sans townie and working for the knife, which bcus of u will now be included) ARE ON MY ARMAND PLAYLIST ‼️‼️‼️this is the best thing ever ughhhh ur so right ur explanations r perfect. My top Armand song of all time is brand new city loll thank u for shouting her out ‼️‼️ the other mitski songs that I heavily associate with Armand that u didn’t mention r Real men, first love/late spring, Eric, Abbey, Crack Baby, and Francis forever

[shreddeddescent]

Oh don't apologize about writing this, we are literally reading it too! I find the story interesting and like, yeah it is fucked up, but I'm having fun reading it too 💪💪💪

Also, how does Mikey feel about all this? I was thinking about that because he likes to deny the has 'adult problems' like you said, so I am really wondering about how he's dealing with all that is happening

🌠👾

ughhhh god...... the mikey can of worms about this specifically is exactly what that was about and whats been really tough to talk about. like this specific scene was what i had to get up and walk away from cuz it was painful.

he's not okay. he also doesnt care about it, cuz hes like... ugh you know what. i think i should actually just share this whole thing i wrote about it. this one is rough. nothing graphic, but if you wanna see how fucking not okay this kid is despite how much he's pretending he can be? yeah. hes gonna talk about his bullshit for the first time ever, and something bad had happened to mikey before. and he doesnt even know what.

which is like where i think the whole climax of this arch is going in my head. i havent written it all out yet. im being tugged along on a journey, yknow.

warnings for csa and incest and like. very poor coping mechanisms. all of it this one hurt me personally the most in the end.

theres some implications of things going on in the background, cuz at this exact moment none of the characters have been coping well hence the fucking.... need for these adults. raph needed to be alone to spiral about the 3 kids by himself, leo needed to be put to bed (by mikey) cuz he got way too high after realizing how much he'd been personally juggling everybody else, and donnie wont mind his buisness about anything, mikey had a go at him about it which resulted in him trying to help mikey with his current 'im having traumatic sex dreams' problem. but donnie is the same age and wasnt gonna be able to help much.

if any of it sounds confusing im sorry. id try and do a whole. fic thing about it but i really dont know if i can. whats important here is the mikey part. cuz this is where it all came to a head.

also mentions of lita, whos raph's little alter. the one that was only ever around for shredder. until recently

--

Mikey was glad that Donnie seemed better when he left the bathroom. He seemed to have been spiralling about whatever was going on between Leo and Raph.

He was pretty sure the idea of sex repulsed his twin, despite his attempts to explain it to him. He was a good brother. But it really wasn’t worth worrying about if Raph and Leo needed to be away from each other. It was weird he cared.

Donnie cared about too many fucking things.

Mikey had spent an extra long time in the bathroom, thinking over if he felt any attraction like Donnie said. He’d thought about exploring his body, but the idea reminded him of Raph. He really didn’t want it to but it did. The first time he’d seen his own penis was when it was forced into his sleeping brother.

His brother who felt like his mom.

It fucking broke something inside of him. He was trying like hell to be the baby Raph needed, to be okay for him, so he wouldn’t make Raph worse. But in the back of his mind he did know he wasn’t okay. And maybe he was just age regressing to cope. Maybe he was only getting angry at everyone cuz he couldn’t help the age regressing.

It was easy to feel like a baby when you were so malnourished as a child that you looked way younger than you should. Father had seen to that. He didn’t take care of him and then blamed Raph for his condition. And maybe he just didn’t want Raph to feel bad about it anymore.

And he had recently remembered.. something. Childhood Raph who wasn’t Raph. Raph leaving crying, coming back Lita and not crying. And… Lita apologizing for something.

The rest was a mystery. A mystery he’d thought he might be able to uncover in therapy with Big Mama, but now?! Now there was this whole… situation!

So he was just sitting with Donnie quietly, watching dumb shit on YouTube. Ignoring his feelings.

They’d seen Leo very not so subtly leave his room. He still stunk. He walked funny and airheaded, but as long as he wasn’t gonna bother Raph, who cared where he went.

…Mikey cared a little. And he was the only one who saw how much weed he’d smoked.

So after about 5 minutes he sighed and felt the need to get up and see if he could find him.

He went out in his red hoodie and some fresh sweatpants, it was night time and maybe he went outside.

He wandered the hall and felt that vertigo feeling again. He hated it, he didn't feel present. Made him think of the drugs from the cages. The drugs he’d been extra pumped full of for being good at fighting them off. That made it worse.

He rested against the wall for a moment and rubbed his eyes.

“Hey, little man.”

He blinked and looked up. It wasn’t Leo.

Jennika was there, in a loose white shirt and cargo pants. She got down into a squat in front of him and smiled.

“Are you okay?”

He felt like maybe he was standing on a fault line.

“Sorry… I’m kinda queasy…” he mumbled.

She eyed the place he was standing and gently gripped his shoulders, tugging him about 3 feet to the left.

The feeling faded and he sighed out in relief.

“Better?”

“Yeah..” he took a deep breath and stood up straight, smiling at her. “You’re…. I know who you are now.”

She stood at her full height and rubbed the back of her neck.

“Yeah… sorry I was uh… lying before. I guess I wasn’t really lying? But you know.”

He nodded slowly and smiled. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to find you. You seemed kinda.. not okay?”

Mikey laughed and shook his head. “Nah! I’m good! I’m fine, I’m just looking for Leo, he’s the one who’s not good.”

“Leo’s alright. I saw him earlier. Kirby’s kinda.. talking him down from his high I think.”

“Oh! Wow! Kirby’s talking to Leo?” He smiled up at her, that was exciting. He knew Leo seemed upset about being ignored by his…. Son. “That’s good. I think that’s good for him.”

She nodded and held out her hand. “Do you wanna walk somewhere? These walls are so… migraine city.”

Mikey looked up at her curiously and beamed. “Sure!” He took her hand and squeezed it softly.

She squeezed back and they walked to the elevator together. He noticed when she was inside there were more buttons and she pushed one.

She seemed a little shy so he tugged on her arm. She looked down at him curiously.

“Can I call you Jenny? Or is Jennika better?”

“You can call me whatever you want, I don’t mind.”

“Raph said you're trans like him. So that means you probably chose your own name, right? I mean... he didn’t. Cuz he’s.. his situation’s weird, but am I right?”

She blinked and smiled softly.

“Yeah.. I did. Is it… a cool name?”

“Yeah! So if you chose it that makes it extra important, so I wanna make sure I say it how you want it said. Jen-nick-kah. I like it!”

She took in an audibly shaky breath and looked back at the buttons.

“Th…thanks Mikey…”

He squeezed her hand.

“I uh… I don’t think you’re looking at me for like… ugh.. dad approval. But like, you seem cool.”

She smiled and laughed a little. “No, I’m definitely not, but thanks. I feel a little.. weird to be honest. But I hope we can clear the air?”

He smiled up at her genuinely and nodded. “I’d like that.”

The elevator doors opened into a lobby Mikey hadn’t seen before. They’d been portaled from the city straight into Big Mama’s office. This was an actual entrance.

And… it was a button they got blocked from pressing? He’d need to think about that later.

Jennika walked with him out of the building and Mikey came into contact with a whole other world. They were in a courtyard of sorts, a city street across from them. The sky was pitch black, because it wasn’t a sky, it was high dark cave walls that stretched beyond what he could see. There were floating crystals for street lamps lighting the streets.

The streets were full of yokai, going about their days. Shopping at storefronts of magic and mundane. It seemed busy. It seemed normal.

He stopped in his tracks and Jennika turned to look at him worriedly.

“Are you okay?”

“W-where…” He kept staring over at the street. There were weird chariots for cars, and creatures flying above his head.

This wasn’t New York City. 

She seemed to realize what was wrong and her eyes widened. “Oh! You’ve.. never been to the Hidden City. Oh shit. This was stupid Kirby’s gonna kill me.”

Mikey stumbled back into a fountain in the courtyard and sat on it. He looked behind him and he could see the exterior of the hotel for the first time.

A skyscraper that existed underground, he couldn’t even see the top because of how dark it was up there.

He rubbed his temples and closed his eyes, taking deep breaths.

“Mikey are you okay?!” She sat down beside him and put her hand on his shell.

“I… yeah.. it’s just a lot…” he didn’t open his eyes but he did lean into her. “I don’t get out much, I guess. I’d be more excited if it hadn’t been… a day.”

He might have been letting his very well crafted facade slip.

She rubbed his shell. “I just thought we could go get some ice cream and talk it out. I thought maybe the hotel was a dumb place to talk, but maybe that’s my bad… I didn’t think about how weird this would be, I’m sorry.”

He looked up at her. She looked anxious and guilty.

So he thought about what she’d just asked and blinked up at her.

“Hidden city has ice cream? Like somewhere I could try every flavour? Cuz we fit in down here?!” He asked excitedly.

Her eyes widened and she beamed. “Yeah! That’s exactly what I was tryina do!”

He jumped up and tugged her arm.

“Show me! Show me show me!”

She grinned and stood up, jogging with him down the street.

He was laughing as they ran goofily down the street. People were staring but not because they were freaks, just cuz they were having fun.

They found a storefront for ice cream and there was a many armed person at the till. Jennika boldly asked for two samples of every flavour and it earned a very annoyed look from the clerk. She slid some kind of hidden city money over with an apologetic smile to make it worth their time which cheered them up.

There was some weird flavours in there he’d never heard of. Some sounded like fruits that didn’t exist, others were weirdly goopy or fleshy in nature. One even made them breathe fire, it was fun. They had a laugh.

By the time they’d tried everything Mikey was given some kind of mix of 5 flavours in a bowl with a spoon, and Jennika got the same.

So they walked down the street eating ice cream together. Like they were normal people having a normal outing.

It was so weird how normal it felt.

She showed him a park to walk through, the trees and plants were purple instead of green which was cool.

They sat down at a bench facing a glowing green lake to sit and eat. It was peaceful. He liked it.

“So how are you?” She finally asked, scooping ice cream in her mouth.

“Kinda confused. You’re really nice and cool, but like… you’re.. you know. And I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel… like, I feel kinda silly? But also.. feel kinda bad?” He was squishing the ice cream together, mixing the colours absentmindedly in the bowl.

She hummed and swallowed back her current bite, placing the bowl down beside her. “I can tell you how I see it. Which is that you’re like.. a brother. Like I know where I come from, but you’re just a kid, and you’re a kid on your own and that makes me sad, and I feel like I’m standing right here in front of you with like.. I dunno, open ears. No that’s not the phrase..” she tapped her chin as she tried to think.

Mikey looked up at her curiously. “Open arms?”

She snapped her fingers and grinned down at him. “Yeah! Open arms. I know it’s weird. I'm not trying to make you feel weird, I just wanna listen if you need someone.”

He looked down at his bowl and took a small bite. He wasn’t sure how well some of this went together but he liked it all the same. A big fucked up hodgepodge of deliciousness.

“I… don’t want you to feel weird. Maybe I’m hoping we’re just gonna be a big family with ease and nobodies gonna have any problems anymore and I can just be normal and not worry anymore.”

She smiled sadly and bumped his arm with hers.

“I’d like to be a family like that, but I think it won’t be so easy. And that’s okay. I wanna put work in, we all do. I think it’s worth a try, and I’m kinda old enough that I can handle whatever you wanna throw at me.”

He glared at the lake with a tired look in his eye. “Just cuz you’re old doesn’t make you able to handle stuff. Old people never handle stuff good as far as I’ve seen. I guess that’s not fair… I just think I’ve seen my brothers get hurt over and over cuz people don’t care how they come off to us. Cuz Shredder treated us like animals, and Splinter…” he sighed. That was a whole can of worms. “She’s old, and yet she felt more emotionally stupid than everybody else. Than her own kids.”

He blinked and realized he’d been talking a bunch and looked up at her. She was just watching him with a sad look.

“Sorry. I’m fine. Thanks for the ice cream, it's good!” He put his happy voice back on and shoved more in his mouth. He thought about how much he could fit at once before swallowing so he took bigger bites. 

“I’m… sorry your mom wasn’t good to you. I’m extra sorry your dad was…” she sighed. “I guess adults really let you down a lot. I’m sorry.”

He shrugged and swallowed back his huge mouthful of ice cream. And then he felt the brain freeze and cupped his head. “Auuuugh there it is! Brain freeze!”

She hummed a laugh and rubbed his shell. “You’re trying to avoid talking. You wanna seem like a happy normal kid don’t you? You’re putting on an act.”

That hurt more than the brain freeze.

He groaned and kept holding his head as it passed, she was holding him to distract from the hurt in his brain.

“How do you know I’m acting! Maybe I’m just immature!”

“Maybe. But maybe you know you’re hurting and you don’t wanna make it my problem for some reason.”

He furrowed his brow and looked away.

“Is it cuz you think I’m like your kid? Cuz really… I really don’t see me like that Mikey…”

“No, it’s not that..” he sighed. He wasn’t sure what it was. He’d been able to talk to Donnie, he’d wanted to talk to Leo. But Jennika was actually asking him how he felt and he could only sit there thinking of ways to seem like he was a baby again. Ways to try and seem normal, like a good kid brother who makes her want to take care of him normally, so he wouldn’t scare her off, or traumatize her!

Oh…

“It’s cuz you make me think of Raph…”

She took a deep breath and nodded knowingly, sighing.

“You don’t talk to him about how you feel. You just go baby made. So you wanna do that with me too.”

“I’m sorry… I’ve got issues. People think I don’t but…” he sighed. “I don’t know..”

She patted his back. “I'm not Raph. I’m not your mom. I’m your cooool big sister! And I know you’ve got issues, I’m open, I’m here. Hit me.”

He looked up at her nervously.

“I…” he looked around. It was really empty here. He decided to lay his head in her lap. “Is this okay..?”

He felt her hand gently stroke his head. “Yeah, that’s okay..”

He took a few deep breaths. “I keep thinking about the cages… about.. what happened. I’m really embarrassed about it, and ashamed of myself… it’s stupid cuz I know it’s not my fault, but the.. specifics of what hurt me was all related to this..” he sighed and closed his eyes. “Weird relationship I have with him, where I try to let him be my mom cuz I never had one. And maybe it’s cuz he’s female and I imprinted on him as a baby, or maybe it’s just cuz I was so small and he was so worried about me.. but the… the mixing of these two things in my head, the 'mama Raph' and the fact I….” He felt tears rolling down his cheeks and he sobbed audibly. It was getting uncontrollable.

She just rubbed his head. He heard her sniff but didn’t look up. He just let her pet him and tried to collect himself.

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t… know what to do, I know you’re not… but I’d never even seen my body before my dad made me use it against my will, a-and so I’m just.. b-back to baby mode, h-hoping I never grow up and have to think about it again…”

“God… Mikey I’m fucking sorry, that sounds like so much…” she was probably crying but kept petting him. He wasn’t sure how to respond now. “I… I think it sounds like you know you shouldn’t do that. That you’re like… pushing stuff down to make yourself seem okay. I think maybe you wanna be worried about normally just so you feel normal, maybe that’s why you’re acting like that…” he chanced a look up at her. She might have looked like him, but the way she was crying over him made her look like Raph. So he was crying in her lap quietly.

He looked away and clutched the fabric of her pants. “I’m.. not trying to act out… I just really don’t want these grown up problems, I-I wanna worry about stupid stuff, n-not wake up with my thing out cuz I h-had a nightmare…”

She took a deep shaky breath and blew it out slowly. “We don’t get to choose to not grow up. I know why you want to? But look at me. If I could have stayed a kid forever I probably would have. I hated puberty. Being a grown up sucks. But you can’t stop it. And you’ve gotten forced into the worst thing, but it doesn’t make you grown up, it just.. means you have to deal with something complicated. I... think ignoring that kinda problem won’t make it go away, and if you need to talk to someone about.. all that gross complicated stuff you’re scared of, I’m here. I’ve had lots of weird feelings over the years, going from like.. weapon to person, boy to girl.. you can tell me more if you want. Maybe I’ll get it.”

Mikey sat up and wiped his eyes. “I.. I haven’t even been asking about you, I’m so sorry Jennika…”

She smiled sadly and draped her arm over his shoulder, pulling him close and giving him a gentle shake. “No, it’s fine! You’re having a bad day. I wanna help with that, don’t worry about me at all.”

He looked up at her sadly, pressing his head against her chest.

“I-it’s weird.. if I’m not your dad, that probably means Raph’s not your mom right..?”

She sighed and looked at the lake. “No… he’s not. It’s kinda complicated, cuz there’s a piece of my heart that still.. I dunno, craves a mom? So that’s why I was so weird when he called me beautiful… but he’s not, he’s my brother just like you are.”

He looked over at the lake. “Is it weird that I think of him as my mom..?”

“No… Not at all, I get it. He’s been your caretaker, and he likes doing that.”

Mikey nodded slowly. “Then.. you get why its… fucking with my head that I’ll dream about the cage, and wake up like that.. why I feel sick to my stomach about it…”

“God, yeah I get that… I would be scared.”

“And I can’t cry to him about it, cuz it’s about him…”

She nodded slowly. “And that would make it worse.. yeah. I’m sorry Mikey…” she rubbed his shoulder. “Okay.. so this will be weird no matter what, but like.. you had the bird and bees talk? And any other talks about your body and stuff..?”

He looked up at her and shrugged sadly. “How much talk needed? We already made you.. think I get where babies come from…”

She looked down at him sadly and then gently rubbed his head. “Oh.. buddy that doesn’t mean you know everything. Did Splinter never…?”

He looked away. “Maybe she tried. Maybe I ran away. I don’t know, I don’t remember…”

She nodded and kept rubbing his head. “Okay. Let’s jump past babies and stuff. I think what you’re describing is like a sex dream, and it’s one you’re having cuz you got forced into it. A trauma dream, making you relive the only time you’ve ever felt arousal. You can’t control it, it's not your fault, it’s a natural response. It doesn’t mean you actually feel aroused by Raph, that you actually want him like that. It’s… ugh I’m sorry. Consent is a better place to maybe start this. Consent and body autonomy and finding a partner you trust…?” She shifted a little.

He looked up. She seemed a little frustrated that she couldn’t find the words.

He sighed and idly squeezed her knee. “I know what you’re trying to say. That I was raped. That I raped Raph but I didn’t, that he raped me but he didnt… dad raped us. Used us to rape each other. I… I know that.”

She looked down at him sadly, clearly sad about how much he was using the word. But he should be allowed to say it over and over again!

“Yeah…”

“I’m too young for sex. I don’t want a sex partner or whatever. I don’t want to have to worry about that, but I’m scared that I’m…” he keeled over and started crying out of nowhere. “I-I think maybe when I was little dad raped me too..? W-when Lita.. I-I can’t remember it… sh-she said I saw something I w-wasn’t supposed to… sh-she seemed so fucking sorry… a-and that’s all I’ve been thinking about for a week… a-and nobody cares!”

Jennika gently shook him and she was crying too. “I care! Fuck Mikey I care so much, I’m so fucking sorry!”

“E-everyone’s been tiptoeing around it! L-like around Raph! A-and maybe I wanted to go to therapy and talk about it! T-talk to Lita! Get more information! B-but there was the… th-the YOU situation! A-and he was traumatized enough! A-and now Big Mama is evil and I-I can’t!”

She took a deep shaky break and wrapped her arms around him and pulled him in her lap for a hug. He let her as he sobbed against her chest. “We don’t need her to do that. We can figure it out without her, we can find ways of dealing with it. God Mikey you’ve been so fucking… I’m sorry. Everything is so fucked up but I fucking promise you that’s my priority okay? We’re gonna help you with that.”

Mikey was clinging to her shirt and sobbing into it. He nodded miserably as he cried. “I-I’m sorry.. I-I keep forgetting t-to bring it up c-cuz I only I-learned about it when y-you were b-born! B-but that was like a week ago! A-and that’s its whole own thing! A-and I’m too fucked up t-to think about it!”

She held him tight and pressed her head against his.

“Fuck… you’ve been keeping so much in there…” She pulled back to cup his cheeks in her hands and smile determined at him, tears still freely falling down her face. He sniffled and shook as he looked back at her. “You don’t need to worry about any of this other stuff. No villains no brothers no fucking weird turtles coming back from the future. Your priority is Mikey. And so’s mine. We’re gonna figure it out. You and me. We’re gonna talk it out one step at a time together. Anything you fucking need I’m here, okay?”

He put his hands on hers, he was struggling to breathe through the crying. This wasn’t his usual crying, he felt fucking broken. His whole body hurt from how hard he was crying.

And it felt good. To fucking scream and yell and cry about how miserable he REALLY was, and to feel seen for it. To feel cared for about it.

So he shakily nodded and kept crying in her face.

She held him again. This wasn’t like how Raph would make him feel at all, this wasn’t a mom thing. This wasn’t a ‘push my feelings down and pretend you’re normal’ upset thing. This was just a sibling really fucking seeing him and letting him be as big of a wreck as he needed. Someone he wasn’t scared of making the problems worse of.

Maybe she was exactly what he needed right now.