#I say my brother but this IS one of the things that scares me off presenting more masc

[louiseolivier]

08x06 Delulu

Tevan are at the Italian restaurant. The Hot Waiter flirts with Buck. Buck's kinda oblivious. He unintentionally flirts back. Buck pays this time, and inside the folder with his card and receipt is Hot Waiter's phone number. Buck is a little weirded out because he feels like it's obvious he and Tommy are on a date.

For the most part, Tommy watches Buck and Hot Waiter's interaction in amusement. He jokes whether Buck is he's going to call him, and Buck is taken aback. Then Tommy gets serious.

"We haven't really talked about the kind of relationship you want."

Buck's confused. "What does that mean?"

"Just that there's more than one way to be in a relationship. I've been in a couple that were open."

"Open?"

"We were allowed to sleep with other people."

"I know what it means, Tommy. Is that what you want?"

"I want you to be happy. I want you to know I'm amenable to that if you're interested. Truth be told, Evan, the most important thing is that you're in my life, whether we’re together or not. 

Suddenly, the Ironside siren goes off in Buck’s head, and he’s spiraling.  

Tommy clasps his hand and looks at him like he’s the goddamn sun, moon, and stars. “Think about it. It’s not like it’s something you have to decide today.”

Cue Buck, going to Bobby. “I don’t know what to tell you, Buck, but I’ve seen you two together. I don’t think breaking up is something Tommy is even thinking about. The other stuff...you should talk to Tommy. Be upfront. Be honest. 

Cue Buck, going to Maddie. “Buck, he kissed you while you were still covered in boils. I saw that with my own eyes and wished I hadn’t. I don’t want to put words in his mouth, but he does seem very committed to you. And to be perfectly honest, the open relationship doesn’t sound like something he’d suggest out of thin air. Maybe you said something...”

“You’re blaming me? Come on, Maddie! You know damn well that’s not how I roll. I slept around, yeah, but not while I was in a relationship - and don’t you dare bring up Taylor! Besides, an agreed upon “open” means consensual. I just - how did I miss that this was something he was interested in? Why would he wait six months to bring it up?”

A sound of disgust emanates from the corner of the call center's breakroom, and the Buckley siblings' heads swivel to its location. Josh is sitting at a table, sipping his coffee and rolling his eyes. “You sweet naive baby bi.” He gets up from his chair, sidles up to Buck, and eyes the donuts he brought for Maddie. “I don’t suppose there's a Bavarian cream in there?”

“There’s a jelly,” Buck says. 

“But jellies are my favorite,” Maddie complains. 

“Too bad. I’m about to help your chaotic brother out, so I deserve it.” Josh bites into the donut and gives an appreciative moan. “Oh god, I haven’t had refined sugar in three days. How I missed you.”

“Back to me, please,” Buck says with a whine.

“Look, it’s pretty simple. There are only two types of guys who want to open up a relationship after the six-month mark. Assholes carrying multiple red flags or..”

“Tommy’s not an asshole,” Buck tells him firmly. 

“Considering he’d whittle a rocking chair if you asked him to, I’d agree. Buck, my guess is he’s scared. He's worried that if he doesn't give you a free pass, that you'll get bored with him and leave.”

“That’s so stupid,” Buck cries in dismay. 

Maddie lays a supportive hand on his bicep. 

“It is,” Josh agrees. “But just because your man is a solid L.A. nine doesn’t mean he’s not carrying around a lot of insecurities. Talk to him. Tell him. And hey, if it all blows up on you, send him my way. I’d love to be that man’s shoulder to cry on.”

Buck shows up at Tommy’s door. Tommy is supposed to come to his after finishing his laundry, but Buck doesn’t want to wait that long. “Hey,” Tommy greets him with that scrunchy smile Buck loves so much. 

“I don’t want to have sex with anyone else,” Buck tells him as he barges through the door. 

“Oh-kay,” Tommy says, closing the door behind Buck. 

“Do you want to have sex with other men?”

Tommy crosses his arms, and his head tilts towards the ground. “No. I’ve come to learn that’s not an ideal situation for me.”

Buck scoffs. “Then why suggest it?”

The buzzer on the washer goes off, and Tommy moves towards it to switch out the load. “I don’t know. I’m pretty used to you flirting with everyone.”

“You think I flirt?” 

“Evan, you told the waiter you liked his chinos while eyeing his ass. Most of the time, I think it’s cute how you rile people up without realizing it, but then I have a thought like, what if Hot Waiter would be a better match for you? So I panicked and threw out that suggestion.” 

“Jesus, Tommy. For the past six months, my brain has been consumed by nothing but you. Yet you think I can be swayed by some guy in a comfortable pair of pants? I only want you.”

“I know. I do. You prove that to me every day. I didn’t suggest it because I don’t trust you.” Tommy tosses one of Buck’s hoodies into the dryer and starts it. He can’t keep eye contact with Buck for more than a few seconds, and he looks paler than when Buck first arrived. Tommy’s also picking his middle fingernail with his thumb, and that’s Tommy’s tell that he’s feeling overwhelmed. “Uh, so like, I’m in this for the long haul. I think you’re it for me, Evan, and I don’t want you to ever feel like you’ve settled or...”

“I love you,” Buck tells him with a certainty he doesn’t think he felt even eight hours ago, but it’s the god’s honest truth. “Just seeing you makes me feel so full I could combust. ”

Tommy’s eyes are glossy and he blinks rapidly to keep the tears at bay. He finally locks eyes with Buck. “Loving you has been living in the back of my mind since...I honestly don’t know how long. I’ve been trying to temper my expectations because I haven’t been super successful in relationships. But then you started leaving clothes here, and suddenly you’ve infiltrated my life like no one else has been willing to. Next thing I know, I’m at a funeral for a long dead cowboy. I watched you embrace the memory of a forgotten man, and I realized I couldn’t love you more, Evan. Boils and all.”

Aaaaand that’s it. I’m tapped out.

[sass-ruby]

Okay so um, I'm gonna be talking about these two episodes today! (Prepare BECAUSE OH MY GOSH.)

Alright, we'll start with the first one. Can I just say that, moon absolutely angered me so much. Moon, NO ONE IS ASKING YOU FOR AN EMOTIONAL SPEECH NOR ANYTHING. It's the fact that you COMPLETELY ignored sun, didn't even bother to check up on him, and then went to work in your lab to find a solution?? Looks like history is repeating itself. But.. why? Why is the same thing repeating again? WELL I HAVE A THEORY! Sun's gonna die, someway, somehow and that's gonna be the only way moon realizes. I think this because of solar specifically. When solar heard that moon won't check up on sun, he sounded absolutely disgusted. Keep in mind, solar lived in HIS SUN'S head. That sun ALSO had a moon, and I bet solar has watched the same exact thing happen. And what happened when solar's sun died? Solar's moon went insane! Imagine the guilt moon would feel, gut wrenching. He probably ALREADY feels guilty, but would rather let it consume him whole than to comfort sun or AT THE VERY LEAST HUG HIM

Sun was there with moon during moon's (valid) breakdown, but moon being there for sun? NOOO, OF COURSE NOT!

Also if moon's gonna start with the "I'm not good with emotions" stuff, I'll lose it. YOU HAVE PROVEN IN OTHER VIDEOS THAT YOU CAN, MOON. Neptor's funeral, OR HELL WHEN THE WHOLE FINDING OUT DAZZLE'S SECRET THING HAPPENED. He listened about every kid, comforted, reassured, he was there. Although, now he's just ignoring sun. I think it's because he's a coward. And by a coward, I mean that he's too scared he'll say something wrong or make it worse, because the word is about NEXUS, someone who moon HATES, though sun loves nexus, evil or not, he was still his brother.

Moon doesn't understand that, he's jealous most likely. It reminds me so much of when nexus wasn't insane.. he was bad talking moon, and when moon returned? Moon was bad talking nexus. Both didn't want to be like each other, they DESPISE each other, calling each other knock off's (okay, THAT PART WAS KINDA FUNNY I'M SORRY.)

But.. where is sun in all of this? He missed each one. He loved each one. He loved them. He still loves them.

But they BOTH didn't understand how their words hurt sun. They're so similar in some ways, it's absurd. AND THEY DON'T EVEN REALIZE IT. Reminds me of the song "over and over" by Rio Romeo.

If sun dying is the only way for moon to realize, I'll be willing to accept it even if it is quite sad. It's disappointing, truly.

Monty's and lunar's reaction, I expected honestly. By the way, lunar-, "he's doing worse than I thought he would be.." ARE YOU STUPID, HE JUST KILLED HIS EX BROTHER?? Didn't you go through the same damn thing too? As for monty, not even surprised one bit. He's always been like that, I never really liked him, but oh well.

And THANK YOU SOLAR FOR BEING THE ONLY SANE PERSON EXCEPT MAYBE EARTH BECAUSE GOSH THIS SHOW AIN'T FOCUSING ON SUN'S HEALTH MUCH.

The urge to b*tch slap almost everyone.

I genuinely want sun to have a breakdown, he chose moon, but moon didn't bother to even check up on him.

Gosh.

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

ANYWAYS, TODAY'S EPISODE!

Just gonna add this picture again, because why not

Wow- genuinely just wow- that was-.. wow

So dark sun DID end up doing something. I must've missed something in the past video, but interesting..

I heard a person say, I forgot who it was but that SUN was the key of this whole plan

He killed nexus, he pulled the trigger and made a choice which means.. that way other suns also made choices instead of not acting

I have NO idea how sun managed to make that happen, BUT THE THEORY MAKES SENSE

In a way, I was right- he IS trying to stop the dimensional abuse of suns by them killing their own moon, I SUCK AT EXPLAINING

if anyone can explain this theory better than me, PLEASE DO.

I felt so bad for the sun in this dimension. Poor thing. Sounded scared and terrified, while repeating "I hate you", while crying and also while bashing HIS moon's head with a barrel

I wanted to hug him QwQ poor baby.. we need a name for him

ALSO HE'S MY CHILD NOW. I'M ADOPTING HIM.

Moon tried his best to keep that sun at peace, WHICH BRINGS ME BACK TO THE SAME TOPIC, WHY DOES HE HELP EVERYONE EXCEPT HIS SUN

I get it was a different situation BUT CMON.

I suppose I already ranted enough about that part, though

I would add more but I'm INCREDIBLY tired and all.. so um yeah-

[redsrooftopprincess]

hey so how do you think Mikey’s brothers would deal with him being the first to get a girlfriend and she’s a human one at that. Cuz they clearly never thought any of them would find someone and it’s their baby brother who did the miracle of finding someone? 😂

Hi there! I'm not sure if this is exactly what you're looking for, but you're here so I assume you want my Mikey. Hope this is okay. 😅

Turned Tables

Michaelangelo x gn!Reader

Warnings: Queerphobia

4am and it's last call in The Village.

He's moving swiftly over rooftops, his usual route, a master of speed and momentum, moving through the city like water. He loves it. The rush. The flow. Moving around obstacles like they mean nothing. He is a turtle after all. Water is kind of his jam.

But not tonight. Tonight the heartbeat pounding in his ears has nothing to do with the thrill of movement. Tonight he's wearing his hoodie with the hood up. Tonight they're with him. And if he's spotted, there will be problems.

There have been whispers about suspicious gang movement in the area, and Leo wants to make sure that certain alliances aren't being made. They usually don't come out here. They have designated areas of the city to cover every night. It's smarter to stick to the same areas so that anything out of place will be more noticable. Which means tonight his bros were on his turf, and that scared the shit out of him.

He follows his brothers over storage sheds and HVAC units, keeping an eye out for anything out of place, occasionally glancing down into the streets below, knowing you'll be heading home after the party. Even if he can't say "hi" tonight, it's worth it just to look at you, even if just for a second. You're so damn pretty.

"Hey! Back off, incel!" the shout comes from the street below and he freezes. His brothers manage to get three buildings away before they notice he's missing.

By the time they make it back to the rooftop where he left them behind, he's already put himself, openly, between a group of four drunk bros, and several sparkly queers.

You and your crew had been on your way home from a party. Ironically enough, you'd just been missing your bright-eyed boyfriend, but understood when he said his brother needed the whole team tonight. You knew the score when this whole thing started. Superheroes gotta superhero.

And damn if he doesn't look good doing it.

Hood still up he glares at them, a low growl backing his words, "Wrong neighborhood, my dudes." Mike says evenly.

The look on the drunk bros faces was enough to know they were thinking maybe they'd had too much.

"Fuck it. Not worth it anyway. Fucking queers."

The dude-bros stumble off and Mike turns to face his very relieved friends. "You guys okay?" He says.

"Yes, thank you, papí," says a Drag Queen in red sequins, she walks up and gives him a kiss, leaving red glitter lipstick on his cheek.

"You know I got you, mamí," Mike says brightly, with a wink, making no effort to wipe the lipstick away. At this point they're most likely watching everything from the rooftop, so it didn't matter anymore.

"We missed you at the party," you say with a smile.

His gaze falls on you and his showman smile morphs into something softer. "Hey, Angel."

You look back at your friends.

"Let me guess," says a man wearing gold shorts and matching cuffs/collar, "you'll catch up?"

You grin and they sigh dramatically, teasing you, as they hug Mike goodbye, thanking him and insisting he show up at the next party.

You step forward and grab his mask tails, pulling him down into a kiss. Usually it's enough to melt the tension away. Not tonight. You pull back and look at him curiously before your gaze moves past him and you see black shadows cut out against the light polluted sky. You meet his eyes again and you can see the underlying panic.

"They were gonna to find out eventually," you say, quietly.

He presses his forehead to yours, "I know. I just..." He sighs.

"I know..." You say, touching his face gently. He'd told you about his brothers, and you understand their need for secrecy, you all do. He'd told you if they ever found out, there was a chance they would refuse to let him see you. Keep him from you completely. But there is no way in hell you're letting him go. You'll fight his big bad brothers yourself if you have to. "Go talk to them. Maybe it'll help to know there are people who aren't afraid." You twist the mask's tail around your fingers and tug, pulling him out of his own head, "Do you want me to come with?"

He shakes his head, "I gotta do this alone. Explain some things. But I think you meeting them at this point is unavoidable." he smirks down at you. You've been asking to meet his family. You haven't said anything, but all the sneaking around is starting to get to you.

He's quiet for a few moments, and shifts his weight, stalling. He must be really scared. "Now or never, Sunshine," you say, tugging on his mask tail again. He gives you a nervous smile and kisses you again, sweetly, before walking across the street backwards, just to look at you a little longer.

When he makes it to the alley, he looks at the ladder to the fire escape and sighs. There's a chance this could go well... right?

When he reaches the roof, they're all standing there, staring at him. Mike swallows. "Hey... So yeah, couple things..." He hauls himself over the edge of the building and stands to look up at his eldest brother, arms crossed, waiting. "So... that's Y/N," he says, as if reciting a list, "and those are my friends..." he gestures a bit further, "and -"

"Parties?" Leo's even voice cuts through the air as sharply as the blades on his back.

Mike glances at Donnie and Raph who look at him with a full spectrum of emotion, from betrayal to hope.

"How long has this been going on?"

"Just... A few years."

"Years!?" If Leo had eyebrows, they would have disappeared into his hair... if he also had hair.

"Leo -" Mike tries.

"Years. Parties. For years."

"Leo, if you'd just -"

"People know about us, Mikey. A lot of people. Don't you think that's kind of a big deal? You're putting everyone in danger here. If just one person -"

"Leo they're queer." Mike interrupts solidly. That shut him up. Leo stares at his brother, taken entirely off guard. "If anyone is used to having to hide their and everyone else's identities for fear of literal murder it's them. We protect our people."

"... We?" Raph asks after a moment.

Mikey gives him a look, "I'm a turtle attracted to humans, what would you call it?"

That shut all of them up, and Mike gives them a moment for that paradigm shift.

"Anyway, yeah, I've been doing a quick run through The Village before coming home every night, just to keep an eye on things."

"That's why you've been coming home late? I thought you were just smoking out somewhere." Raph says.

"That's because that's what I wanted you to think," Mike replies. Duh.

"And your friend? How long has that been going on?"

"We're more than friends," Mike shoots back immediately, a fire in his eyes as they meet his eldest brother's. They could come for him, he was used to it. Not you. His brothers eyes widen and they look at each other before landing back on him, "and we've been together for six months, two weeks, and five days," he checks his watch, "Six days. You want the hours, minutes, and seconds or are we done?" He says.

He pushes past Leo, and makes it almost to the edge of the rooftop before hears Donnie speak softly behind him. "... why would you keep this from us?"

Mike sighs, coming to a stop, "Because... I don't know..." He turns around, "I guess I was afraid you'd try and take it away," He looks at Leo almost defiantly. Raph smirks, kinda proud. "Or maybe... that they'd like you more than me." He looks down at you with a sigh, having rejoined your friends. You're laughing. It's his favorite sound in the universe.

Turning around, you catch him watching over you like a guardian angel turtle. You proceed to blow several kisses his way using each hand, before making a heart with them and spinning back around. The last six months have been the best of your life.

Mike can't help but smile, his brothers look on in awe as Michaelangelo's more-than-friend skips on down the sidewalk.

"Look," Mike says, his eyes returning to his brothers, "I'm safe. You're safe. They're safe." He assures, gesturing in each direction in turn, "We're a pretty tight group, and there's a protocol," he looks at Leo pointedly again, "that we follow with new people before anyone even learns I exist. I've saved the sequined ass of just about everybody in this neighborhood. They know me here. We're safe here... ish, obviously."

They're all speechless.

"I don't like this, Mikey." Leo says after a moment.

"You don't have to like it, you just have to accept it," Mike says without any question in his voice.

Leo sighs rubbing his forehead, "Well, at this point I suppose it's too late for damage control." He looks back at Mike, proud and resolute. This Michaelangelo has only made a handful of appearances in their lives, but Leo knew what it meant. He wasn't backing down. This decision had been carefully thought out and every angle considered before it was made. Mikey may play the fool, but he's far from it. A gifted strategist and the best of them at thinking on his feet, if he says it's safe, it is.

Leo sighs again, "Okay," he says, and Mikey can finally breathe again, "but we all need to be in on these protocols, and Don should look over security."

.....

He's just gotten back from his nightly run, and came home smelling like strawberry daiquiris and you... He may have stopped for a minute.

He's just stripping off his gear to hit the shower when Raph appears in his doorway, knocking softly. "Uh hey," he starts, uncomfortable, "You got a sec?"

Mikey tosses one of his hand wraps into the basket in the corner and starts unraveling the other one, a small burst of glitter explodes into the air with the first layer of cloth. Mike snorts and swats it out of the air. "Sure, bro. Sup?"

"I just..." He struggles, looking at the floor, trying to find the words. He's embarrassed he even wants to ask, but he has to know. There's a chance now... A real chance at meeting real people... maybe... maybe even a chance at... "What's it like?" He asks, looking up at Mikey.

"Gonna have to be a bit more specific," his other hand wrap joins the first.

"Yeah. No. Stupid. Sorry," he laughs nervously, shaking his head and looking at the floor. His hands are actually shaking, he clenches them into fists.

"You okay, bro?" Mike asks, changing tone and pausing to look at his older brother, concerned.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he assures, "I, uh..." He sighs and takes a deep breath, psyching himself up. "What's it like... being with someone who isn't scared of you...? Who actually wants you there?" He can't even say the word. He feels stupid for needing to know this damn badly, but he needs to know that it's real. Possible.

A slow smile blooms on Mike's face, his biggest brother would the one to ask. When they played as kids, he's the one that used to ride off into the sunset with the girl. White (well, green) Knight was his default, and a lot of where the anger in him came from as a kid. He had no choice but to live his life watching the world get their happy ever afters, until he died, alone, at the end of a blade. Michaelangelo sees something in Raph's eyes he hasn't seen in a long time. It's faint, and swimming in doubt, but definitely there: Hope.

He takes a breath, crossing his arms over his chest, "Well... It's kinda like..." He pauses, thinking, "Do you remember that old rusted pipe we used to skate on when we were kids?"

"The one that almost killed us? Yeah."

Twelve years old and Donnie had just souped up Mike's board and Raph's skates with some "prototypes." They were supposed to stick to the tunnels near the lair to test them out, but the second they stepped out, Mike made a beeline for the pipe.

The prototypes worked well. Too well. The speed and weight were too much for the rusted metal and it crumbled beneath them, sending them careening down a series of pipes and tunnels with no idea where they were going to end up, or what state they'd be in when they got there.

They skated as best they could, trying to stay on their feet, or even their shells, but everything was moving too fast and there were too many twists and turns. They couldn't keep track of where they were or where they were going, at one point some unidentified substances were involved, and at times it felt as though they would break apart.

When they finally emerged, battered and bruised in an unfamiliar tunnel a little over a mile away, they just sat there for several long moments, stunned.

When they finally met each other's eyes... they lost it. Laughing hysterically with tears streaming down their faces, they could barely feel the sting of cuts or the ache of bruises.

It was terrifying and exhilarating, and at more than one point they thought they were for sure going to die. It had been the most incredible experience of their young lives. They promised only ever to do that once (it 100% should have killed them), but both of them remember, to this day, exactly where that pipe is, just in case they ever want another go.

"It's like that," Mike says, tossing his belt in the corner and walking past Raph to grab a shower.

...

The next evening, before patrol, he receives a visit from a rather concerned looking Donatello. He doesn't bother knocking, but walks into the bedroom and closes the door behind him.

Don spins around to look at him, and raises his hands in a placating gesture. "I'm concerned."

Michaelangelo looks up once he's finished pulling up his shorts. "Okay...?"

"Have you and Y/N had sex? Of any kind, I mean."

"Dude."

"I'm serious," and he meant it. He was wearing his serious face. "Any exchange of fluids beyond kissing?"

Mikey looks at him, Donnie is really, actually worried, and now so is he, "Yeah... why?"

"How often?"

"Dude."

"At least... tell me your wore protection."

"I'm not exactly worried about them getting pregnant, so no."

"Are you worried about them getting regular injections of your DNA?"

This made Mikey pause, why would he... Oh, Gods... He looks up at Donnie, eyes wide and terrified. "Shit, I didn't even think..." He sits down on his pillow pile, thoroughly rocked. His hands cover his face as the possibilities overwhelm him. Mike looks up at his brother with pleading eyes, "are they gonna be okay...? They're gonna be okay, right?"

"I don't know... but I'm going to need a few hair follicles for testing."

"Done," he says quickly, snatching a small baggie from his nightstand and shoving it in his pocket.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I really am a fucking idiot.

Michaelangelo throws on his gear as fast as he can, booking it out of the lair.

He's back in less that 45 minutes

The next few hours are spent with him panic pacing, while Donnie is running tests. Finally, he straightens from over the microscope, one last visual check to confirm what his readouts were saying, and Mike stops, waiting for whatever news comes next.

"Nothing, they're clean. No mutagen detected." Don turns to smile at his brother.

"Fuck, me..." He sighs heavily, breathing hard. The rush of relief makes Michaelangelo so dizzy he has to reach out and catch himself on the wall. Even so, this is definitely something the two of you need to talk about, just in case.

"I'll want to check in periodically, just to make sure it stays that way, but things should be safe enough for now." He pauses and looks uncomfortable for a moment. Emotions are tough for Donnie. They've never made much sense to him, especially when expressing them to others. He knows what they feel like inside his head, but he's never been entirely sure what to do with them. Like he was never given the manual. Even so, he knows that this is important. "Hey, so, um... the probability of something like this happening... one of us actually finding someone, is... Astronomical... Now it’s... slightly less so," he says, thoughtfully, with a soft smile, "so thanks for that."

.....

The eldest of his brothers finally shows up after almost four days. He stands in the open doorway, chagrined, and knocks on the frame.

"Hey, Mike." Leonardo says, taking a few steps into the room.

Michaelangelo looks up from what he's doing and stands, expecting another argument against all of this. He's ready.

"I'd like to apologize."

Okay, he wasn't ready for that.

"I was caught off-guard, and I reacted poorly," he says, "I was worried. I still am. This whole… thing scares the hell out of me. It means there are more pieces on the board, more people to keep safe."

Leo sighs, "It also means that maybe... there can be something more than… this. And I... I don't know if it's worth it yet, the risk, to us or them. I wish I did. This is new... territory for me. I'm used to understanding how things are supposed to work, at least when it comes to us, but this..."

"Hey," Mike says, interrupting Leo's word vomit. Leo tended to keep things pretty close to the vest, even among the five of them, so it didn't happen often, but big things. Important things. Emotional things, could send him spinning out until someone stops him, or he tornados himself into a panic attack.

Leo takes a deep breath, as Mike grins, "How 'bout you let me teach you a couple things, for once."

He smiles back at his youngest brother, chuckling nervously, "Thanks. I would actually really appreciate that." Leo steps further into the room now that things seem settled between them, and pulls a pillow from the pile to sit on, settling in. He dismissed his brothers explanations earlier, he owed it to him to listen now. "So... what are they like?'"

Michaelangelo spends a good amount of time telling him about you, his friends, and how this whole thing got started. By the end, Leo isn't exactly more comfortable about the situation, but he sees the potential, and despite himself, he's just a little excited.

.....

At this point he's pretty sure his brothers are cool with everything. Less cool in one particular case, but he's working on Leo. Michaelangelo's father, however, is an entirely different story.

Leo had told him that morning, after they'd gotten back, and for two days he remained in silent meditation. By the time he emerged on day three, Michaelangelo was afraid to even be in the same room as him.

He knows this is a big deal. He knows his dad has been meditating on his own feelings on the matter and the best way to approach them with his youngest, and this could either go really, really well, or blow up in his face, but if there's one thing he knows about the old rat... he can't be avoided. Not forever.

The fated knock comes on day five.

"Hey," Leo says, "dad wants to talk to you."

Mike takes a deep breath and heads down to his father's room.

"Have a seat, Michaelangelo," he says, gesturing to the empty cushion across from him. There is a low table before him with a chipped pot and two steaming cups of tea.

Mike walks into the room. He doesn't seem mad, but that doesn't mean anything. His dad is great at playing it cool. He sits across from Splinter, nervously.

His father asks for the whole story, and listens patiently as Mikey tells him everything. How saving a drag queen one night led to his being accepted and wanted by a whole group of people. Friends that have helped him in more ways than he can count. Definitely more ways than he could ever help them. And you. He tells his dad about you. How amazing you are, how kind and patient, and something he hasn't even told you yet: just how stupid in love with you he really is.

It takes hours.

When Mikey is finished, His father is quiet for a long time, processing everything. He'd received some of the story from Leonardo, and was fitting the new information into the appropriate places, while carefully considering the situation. Mike tries not to panic.

"I'm proud of you, Michaelangelo," he says, finally. Mike's head shoots up from staring into his tea cup to meet his father's eyes.

Okay, what?

"Not only have you done all things possible to ensure the care and safety of both your new friends and our family, but you had the courage to look for something beyond what we know to be safe. You had the courage to try. All that done on your own. And while next time," his father gives him a look, "something like this comes up, I would much rather you come to me first," he pauses to ensure the message sinks in, "I understand why you did not, and you have my deepest apologies for that." The old master bows his head, penitently, across the table.

A half-laugh escapes Mikey, tears of relief stinging his eyes. He was ready to fight for you. In fact, since this whole thing started he's basically been thinking about nothing but what the hell he's going to tell his dad. The last five nights, he's held you a little tighter, a little longer. Not to say goodbye, he'd walk away from them if he had to, if they made him choose. You're too important. But he didn't want to, and now he doesn't have to, and sweet relief pours, fizzing, through his veins

"Really?" Mike asks softly, it wasn't often he got rewarded for disobeying orders, especially when the reward was something this big. You. Holy shit they were letting him keep you. He wipes at his eyes as his father smiles, "I uh... thanks Dad." He says, unsure whether he's laughing or crying.

"I feel as though a new chapter of our lives is beginning, thanks to you," his smile crinkles at the corners of his eyes, "and I look forward to seeing where the tale will take us."

.....

The next morning, Leo, Don, and Raph are sitting around the kitchen table after patrol, when Mike storms in with a purpose.

He slaps a neon green paper down in the middle of the table for the three of them. It's a flyer for a party, happening at Mike's usual spot, tomorrow night.

They look at the flyer, and then each other, before their gazes turn to their father, standing in the doorway with a steaming cup of tea. Four adult turtles, nearly pushing 30, silently begging their dad for permission.

There is a subtle smile under his whiskers as he takes a sip of his tea, "Be back before sunrise," he says, and his smile widens as he sees his children light up with the promise of a new adventure.

They'll panic later, when the reality sets in that they are about to meet a large group of people and they have no idea what they're doing (Leo may already be screaming internally), but for now they're excited, and looking forward to tomorrow.

....

Tag list

@thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @fyreball66 @ninnosaurus @tmntngl @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @zagreustomb @ramielll @silverwatergalaxy @gornackeaterofworlds @daedric-sorceress @sophiacloud28 @iridescentflamingo @milykins

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

@hammerhead96 I AM BITING THIS! I am so sorry it took 45 years <3

Anselm Vogelweide x gn!Reader • Rating: PG pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? • ask-travaganza masterlist •

Summary: You paint Anselm's portrait.

Warnings: Fluff, Anselm has siblings here, I'm just making stuff up, little bit of jealous!Anselm, kissing, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 2311

“Stop moving.” You glare politely at Anselm over the canvas.  

He smiles sweetly at you from his position on the chair in the middle of the room. The large floor length curtains are drawn, letting in the late morning sunshine. He’s sat at a slight three quarter angle, his scared side facing you. 

It had been his sister that had commissioned you, Adela Vogelweide, a gift for his birthday. The fact that she’d chosen you had surprised you. You knew she had enough personal wealth to hire practically anyone in the world for whatever exorbitant amount they wanted and still consider it small change. 

Adela had seen some of your pieces at a local gallery showing, the curator an old friend of yours, where she had quite loudly enquired about the price of your largest landscape. Paid three times the asking amount, and then said it was still undervalued. 

She had called you up personally after convincing your friend to let her use their phone. The first words she’d spoken to you when you picked up were, “Why are you underselling yourself?” 

Adela was brazen and kind, with a quick temper she had never directed at you. She dyed her hair black, something she delighted in telling you, except for two streaks that framed her face, those she kept in her natural grey. She had also delighted herself in telling you all about her older brother Anselm, and what a nuisance he was, a rapscallion, but a loveable one. And wouldn’t you be a dear and paint his portrait? 

This was your fourth sitting.

“You said I could move a little, my dear?” He gives you a cheeky grin. 

You poke your head around the canvas again, purposefully benign a little more dramatic than you truly need to be, because you know it amuses him. 

“Emphasis on a little.” 

His smile widens. “Am I moving too much?” He feigns innocence badly. 

You give him a look. “Yes. Stop fidgeting.” 

“My leg.” He pouts, and rubs his thigh. 

“Anselm.” 

“Yes, my dear?” 

“That leg is not the one with your brace on.” 

He chuckles and then quickly puts on a mock serious expression. “Can’t my other leg hurt? My, my, this is most uncaring of you, and here I thought you such a sweet person.” 

“Well, you thought wrong then, didn’t you?” You carry on painting, adding a little shading. Most of the sittings so far were just to get a feel for him as a subject. You’d completed several rough sketches and paintings, and taken umteenth reference photos. 

“I don’t think so, my dear, I’m a very good judge of character.” 

“Would you say that runs in the family?” You ask nonchalantly. 

“How so?” 

“Is Adela a good judge of character?” 

He pauses for a moment and then nods, “She is.” 

“She warned me about you.” You say offhandedly and Anselm cackles with glee.

“Did she?” 

“She did.” 

“How marvellous. Did she tell you I’m a wretched and depraved lust filled bloodthirsty tyrant?” 

You pause, “No.”

“What did she say?” He strokes his beard slightly.

“That you were cheeky.” 

He tuts. “Now, that is a gross misrepresentation, I will have to have words with her.” 

“Don’t get me in trouble.” You giggle. 

“Now, now, my dear. She’ll most likely tell me off for some reason, probably for my playful, but oh so charming treatment of you, wouldn’t you say?” 

You give him another look and he laughs. 

“You disagree?” 

“Stop fishing for compliments.”

“Ah, but I must. You haven’t said one kind thing to me all morning.” He folds his arms, pretending to huff. 

“First, that is untrue, second, stop moving.” 

He grins, “My apologies,” and puts his arms back down. “My dear Adela does love to scold me, despite being the younger sibling. You would think she was twelve years my senior, not junior… It is the different father I think.” He smiles fondly. 

“You have different fathers?” 

He nods, “You are enquiring about the surname yes?” 

You nod as well. 

“Well, my mother is Magdalena Vogelwiede, the only child of my grandfather who lived past infancy. She kept the family name and refused to change it when she married, not that any of her husbands would have dared to argue with her, besides all of them coveted the prestige of being part of the Vogelwiede family. All of her children were given her last name.”

“Do you have other siblings?” You ask, still holding your paintbrush but you have given up most pretences of actually working. The way he talked was almost hypnotic. Soothing. You could happily listen for hours. 

“I do, I had an older brother, Wilhelm, who died very young. When my father died, my mother remarried and had Adela and Helena. She divorced my step-father when Helena was two, shame, as I was quite fond of him. She didn’t marry the father of my youngest sister, Libeste. But that was a very good thing, he was a terrible bore.”

You smile, delighting in the fondness in his expression. “Is she still with us?” 

He nods, “She is, going very strong. She lives in Italy with her suitor, a toy boy.”

“Toy boy?” You snort. 

“He’s only sixty eight.” He chuckles. 

“Scandalous.” You grin. 

“I like him very much, his name is Alvin, like the chipmunks. Which is what he said to me the first time I met him, a very sweet man, utterly besotted with my mother, the poor fool.”

“The poor fool?”

“She bullies him so,” Anselm sighs fondly, “But he does love it. So I think they are meant to be with each other.” 

You barely manage another five minutes of painting before Anselm has to take an emergency meeting. He apologises profusely and kisses your hand when you leave. You do your best to hide your giddiness when his lips touch your skin.

The following Thursday you’re back at his house, mansion, just about to get out of your car when your phone rings. Adela. 

You press accept. “Hello, Adela.” 

“My darling, how are you? Are you well?” Her voice practically purrs on the other end of the phone.

“I’m good, you?” 

“Fine, fine, listen, I am having a small get together tomorrow night, I will send a car for you. Yes?” 

“I,” You pause, ever so slightly taken aback. “Well…”

“You are free of course?” 

“Well, I was going to work on the portrait-”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, you have plenty of time, I understand art works can take years.”

“I don’t think it’ll take me years, I mean-”

“See? You are already ahead of schedule then my darling, 8pm the car will come. It’s a small thing, barely a hundred people, casual dress. And I mean it, wear jeans and a t-shirt if you want, or nothing at all.”

You open your mouth to speak and close it again as she continues.

“I simply must introduce you to my son. Anyway, see you then, ciao!” 

She hangs up before you can even say a word. 

You’re setting up in the ground floor study when Anselm comes in. His expression is stormy, you would almost say bleak if it wasn’t for the hard look in his eyes. 

He sits on the chair without his usual exuberance, muttering a quiet “Good morning.” 

You pause, still setting up your easel. Part of you isn’t sure if you know him well enough to ask about what’s bothering him, even though he’s been nothing but forthcoming and charming with you. You swallow down your anxiety.

“Are you okay?” 

“Hmm,” he nods and doesn’t look at you.”Perfectly well.” 

You bite your thumbnail nervously, but don’t ask again. You set up the rest of your equipment in silence. 

The quiet is odd. You realise you’re so used to hearing him talk, to being swept up in his tales that now the room seems hollow and barren without them. Cold and sterile. The grandfather clock in the corner ticks loudly, echoes sickeningly. 

Nothing seems to be going quite right, your colours are wrong, the shape irregular. 

You’ve been working for around twenty minutes when Anselm finally talks. 

“Has my sister invited you yet?” He’s a little gruff, a huff in his voice.

“I’m sorry?” You look up from your work.

“Invited you… to her gathering tomorrow?” 

“Oh, erm,” You stumble over your words, the hard look he gives you is practically alien, so unlike his usual smiles. “Yes, she called me just as I got here.” 

Anselm’s expression hardens. For a moment you don’t think he’s going to speak again. “She wants you to meet David, her eldest.” 

You pause, not sure if you should reply, but you do anyway. “Yeah, erm, she mentioned it briefly… not that I really got a word in.” You laugh weakly, maybe he was annoyed at how long it was taking you to start on the painting? “Honestly, I was planning on working on your portrait, but I didn’t really get a chance to refuse the invitation.” 

He hums again, sighing and slumps down a little in his chair. “He got divorced last year, you know?” 

It takes you a full minute to realise he’s talking about David. 

“Clean break, his ex-wife was very reasonable. No children.” He sighs again, “A perfectly eligible bachelor.” He runs his hand through his hair, pushing his curls in a completely different direction. 

“Anselm,” you tut, briefly forgetting the tense atmosphere, you walk around the easel and towards him, your hand outreached to fix his hair before you catch yourself. You stop, pausing right in front of him.

He looks up at you with soft eyes. “I apologise, my love. I did not mean to disrupt your work with my bad mood.” 

“It’s alright,” you smile slightly, “We all get annoyed.” 

“I’m sure you are rapturous in anger, all dragon fire and destruction.” 

You snort. “I am not.” 

He smiles and leans forward, pressing his head towards your hand. “I am sorry I disturbed my hair.” 

“It’s fine,” you lightly run your fingers through his curls, careful not to catch or pull as you move it back into its previous style. You motion for him to sit back so that you can position the last few rogue strands. You touch his hair for a little longer than absolutely necessary, swallowing as you press your fingers deeper. 

Anselm breathes in deeply, closing his eyes for a second and presses closer to your touch. 

“Is your nephew getting engaged or something, does Adela want me to paint a portrait of him too? Is that why I’m invited?” You ask innocently as you finally adjust his hair to your liking. You drop your hand to your side, a little disappointed that you no longer have a reason to touch him.

He opens his eyes slowly, staring up at you with a small frown. “My sweet, are you being serious, or pulling my leg? Because if it is the latter, I must say it is poor form considering my injury.” He motions a little dramatically to his brace.

“What?” You shrug a little, trying to work out what the hell he’s on about.

A small smile pulls at his lips when he realises you are being sincere. “My dear Adela wants to set you up with David, tomorrow is a formal introduction of sorts.” 

You pause, a little dumbfounded and Anselm chuckles. 

“My, the look on your face, you do not seem pleased.” He, however, is the happiest you have seen him all morning. 

“Here,” Anselm stands, “I’ll get my assistant to bring you a photo of David,” the tease in his voice is undeniable. “So that you may gaze about the face of your future beloved.” 

You finally find your voice. “Anselm.” You scold.

He grins wickedly, turning to face you fully. “I do love it when you use that tone with me, my sweet. Admonishing me does suit you.” He steps a fraction closer, raising his hand to lightly brush your cheek with the tips of his fingers. “I would happily die a thousand deaths to be under your thumb.” 

You swallow. “I don’t want you to die a thousand deaths… or be under my thumb.” You say softly, trying to say that you want him safe and alive and of his own strange but endearing free will.

But Anselm’s expression falls and he lowers his hand, mistaking your words for rejection. “I apologise again-”

Panic grips your chest and you blurt out the first thing that comes into your head. “But you can be under me if you want… as in…” Heat rolls over your face and you screw up your eyes. 

He laughs happily, stepping closer again so that you are chest to chest. He lightly traces your bottom lip with his thumb. “May I kiss you, my love?” 

With a giddy rush of energy, you lean forward and press your mouth to his in a soft, sweet kiss. Anselm moans happily, wrapping one arm around you. When you break the kiss he leans his forehead against yours. 

“Please forgive my foul mood earlier, I was… distressed.” 

“Why?” You tease, a sugar rush of happiness overtaking you. 

“Because I thought you were going to spend the rest of your days riding my nephew instead of me.” 

You snort, unable to stop yourself, and quickly cover your mouth with your hand. 

“Oh no, please, let me hear you laugh.” He gently takes your wrist and litters your cheeks with kisses, until you’re giggling uncontrollably. 

“Well, I’ll have to let Adela know there’s no need for me to go tomorrow.” 

Anselm tuts and raises an eyebrow, “I don’t think so, my love, I think it will be much more exciting to turn up on my arm and then proceed to make out messily on every available surface.” 

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @whatthefishh

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@musicalnacho @buckyssugarchick @howellatme @sapphossongbird

[giddlygoat]

my brother can make me laugh without moving at all. he can make me laugh on command, just by existing, and there is no physical tell or indication that it is about to happen. it’s like he can will me to laugh and i will. of course we’re not telepathic, but we do speak in unison sometimes. we improvise like no one’s business. we could fool anyone into believing we are psychically linked. when i try to explain it, i sound silly saying it out loud, but i really CAN tell what he’s thinking. we exchange so much information just with a look. he can make me cry laughing and he doesn’t even have to move

[graciousdragon]

*walks in, covered in ash and emanating smoke, like a Looney Tunes character after surviving an explosion* hey guys i'm back

[deiscension]

[EXTREMELY LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER]

[sera-wasnever]

Popular internet neurodivergence is all fun and games until you realise people have decided that cause they're cool with people with like fandom hyperfixations and no other symptoms that they have to see via social media, any cruelty they show for autistic traits irl is okay and not ableist

[zoekrystall]

Ik I barely post anything personal but anyways I should go to bed but that wallpaper post made me go hey I should finally change to obey me and then I found smth and am now here configuring my whole phone w new apps bc lucifer help. I still feel so sorry for just leaving him I'm sorry babygirl. (played it at the beginning and then stopped until nightbringer)

Shut up I know 😭

It is only for android if anyone sees it and wants it here

I own this person my life this is so neat already. Also ngl partially hoping the night lines will make me go to bed. I listen to fictional chars way more no wonder our main caretaker is a fictive sjsks

[dirt-str1der]

I keep thinking about the mechanics for how to make kazumaji happen outside of adrenaline fuelled lovemaking , like obviously majima isnt going to solicit him for an actual relationship because whatever they have going on is already more than he expected to get because majima isnt a wanting man he gets dealt his hand then he plays (plus hes waiting for someone else , he cant leave and have his story end with kiryu , they both know this) , kiryu isnt a wanting man either i mean not for his love life but you know this guy fights like hell to get what he wants. He doesn’t exactly have a problem pulling girls but its the commitment after thats the issue , he always has someplace to be thats not here no matter how suave and charming he is youre gonna be wondering why he ghosted you for three years then find out he just got released from prison the point is that he doesnt follow through. Once youre done with him then youre done and very rarely is he gonna come back (unless he wasnt actually done with you). Majima offers to help him out in osaka and kiryu says no no no see ive left you behind i have to live this next chapter of my life properly now , without you. He has this inability to understand that people want to spend time with him thats not him helping them / repaying him a favour / working together to achieve a common goal. You literally cant assume he’ll be around you really have to cling tight or he’ll find some reason to fuck off and by then you cant even ask him to stay because Shit is it a good reason. Y0 nishiki got so so fucking close to showing kiryu he didnt need to have any redeeming qualities for people to like hanging out with him. He didnt need to be fun or like to party or entertaining at all , just him sitting quietly on a nearby barstool and maybe clapping along is enough to make his night fun as hell. Im sure kiryu realises that he can be distant and lack initiative , im sure this self awareness has convinced him that hes an undesirable long term romantic partner , and majima fucking up big time with mirei also forces him to internalise the fact that hes not a good partner either. So the two of them have to really really Really want something to start it because otherwise theyd be gracefully and expertly sidestepping any mention of commitment , pirouetting around the word “partner”, assuming they’ve made things clear when no discussion had taken place. They dont figure it out because its obvious to everybody thats not them, all the thinly veiled offers to be useful to each other, the leaning forward when they speak to each other , the open mouthed kisses with tongue , they want each other. More than one time , more than This... but how does one communicate something they havent realised yet ...

[senseiwu]

I'm kind of in a rabbit hole rn and I just watched a video about that tucker Carlson dude I've heard about and they had some clips of him and

I know that voice

I've heard that voice many times from my dads phone

[shidoukanae]

Lineart to lineless art progress thingie (for funsies! and also bc im running out of things atm to put in queue lol). My fashion sense is very basic but i really like the left & right designs for Helene!

It's interesting to see how many details get lost/added in the process between lining things out/turning the lines to full color. Helene's face on the left loses the angle I was going for (OTL) and i fiddled with the anatomy a bit to make it better on the right

Wanted to make this as a glimpse at what a modern AU!version of Helene would look like (and im really hoping to see her on Earth and her reactions to being on Earth! but atm it's hinted only dragons are capable of tracking down people across 'verses so im just saying...hey Paris...regarding Helene and your Dragon Pact powers...).

[haveihitanerve]

My favorite thing about the bats is that… they are gothamites. And sure they scare the shit out of people… but they are in Gotham. Superman is loved by his people, Flash is adored, people pray to Wonder Woman, Green Arrow is feared. But the Bats? The Bats are like all of Gotham's weird older brothers/sisters/parents. Superman and Green Lantern are visiting Batman in Gotham and all of a sudden he gets smacked in the face by a banana and they turn and find a group of teens skateboarding away and one kid calls over his shoulder ‘eat the fucking potassium you absolute brick.’ and Batman doesn't even do anything. Barry is chilling with Nightwing when a girl runs beneath the building they are sitting on and screams “Nice ass Night! But get it the fuck down here, my cats stuck in a tree.” And Nightwing does a flip off the building and just?? helps her?? Wonder Woman and Black Canary are passing through Crime Alley on their way to the Batcave and spot Red Hood standing in an alley, being lectured by a woman who is half his size and she ends the lecture by throwing two sandwiches at his face and walking away. Red Hood just takes his hood off and starts eating. Superboy is helping Red Robin defeat Scarecrow and while they’re hiding, waiting for him to walk into their trap, RR is casually conversing with a Gothamite about Hogwarts Houses, and when he says the Gothamite looks like a Gryfindor he pops his head out and screams “Yo scarecrow hes right fucking here!” J’onn is heading to the Manor to discuss League business with Bruce when he spots Robin(Damian) fighting Riddler all alone and is about to intervene when three teenagers show up and just fucking deck him instead. Damian doesn't thank them, just glowers, and one of the guys goes “you're welcome you fucking brat.” And the girl even smacks the back of his head and goes “manners.” Clark is sent to go find Tim and Steph and Damian and finds them at this girls birthday party, in full costume, eating cupcakes and drinking punch, jumping on the bouncy house and is like “errr, B-Batman needs you home.” And as one the entire birthday party group went “Fuck Batman.” Spoiler was spotted painting these guys nails, Black Bat was seen teaching calculus to a group of teenagers, Batgirl(Babs) was running after a group of kids screaming “Give me back my laptop you fucks!” Just- just the batfamily and Gothamites being annoying to each other and appreciative yet bitches. 

Bus driver: stop getting thrown at my fucking bus, i got places to be and my insurance only covers so many shatter windshields and person sized dents  Batman: I don't really control where I get thrown Bus Driver: well you better fucking start otherwise theres gonna be another fucking villain on these streets *drives away and almost runs him over* Superman: *gaping* yo-you're just gonna let him do that? Batman: *shrugs* Gotham insurance aint what its cracked up to be Superman: *staring dumbly*

[targaryen-dynasty]

ENCOURAGEMENT.

Daemon Targaryen x little sister!Reader

It's 105 AC. Your brother, King Viserys, wants to throw a feast in honor to announce his wife's pregnancy. You want to attend—if it weren't for the rising doubts about your changing body. But it's good your husband knows a way to ease your worries.

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MINORS DNI; canon typical incest/targcest (brother & sister), mirror sex, vaginal fingering, praise kink, female and pregnant reader, lactation, lactation kink, nipple play

WORDS: 2.5 K

NOTES: Thank you for betaing this sweet thing, @happilyhertale! 🤍

❗️𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

Frustration brings you to the point you stand completely bare in front of the large mirror that’s been brought into your chambers by the servants, looking at your reflection. To the right hangs a black gown, and to the left a more reddish one. And neither of the two will fit over your swollen curves, you just know by looking at it.

You’ve scared off your ladies-in-waiting a few minutes ago, usually soft-spoken you experiencing an emotional outburst that just called for you to be left alone.

Nearing the six moon mark of your first pregnancy has left your body with scars and marks around your rounded belly and swollen breasts, some even teetering down the insides of your thighs. And yet, when you look at your husband strolling into your martial chambers with not more than a large cloth hanging around his hips, his scarred chest on full display, you can only admire him for wearing them with so much confidence.

But not even your own doubts can stop your eyes from stealing glances, his toned physique managing to put your mind at ease for once. Trailing your eyes over the expanse of his scarred chest down to the dark trail of hair that ends deep below the cloth that conceals most of it. However, it only poorly hides the way his half-hard member prods against the linen with each step he makes towards you.

He makes no secret out of the way his lilac eyes all but devour your body and its curves, although your belly is not yet as swollen as Aemma’s was when she was with Rhaenyra. The pregnancy has made you even more of a woman, and knowing he’s the one responsible for it makes him feel proud but also quite possessive.

“What is it?” he asks, his gravelly voice sending a chill down your spine.

Daemon eventually comes to a stop with his tall frame looming over yours from behind, fingers trailing over your side in an uncharacteristically tender and gentle manner. Every inch of your reflection is devoured by his greedy eyes. “We do not have to attend the feast, you know,” he says. “I wouldn’t dream of depriving myself of the pleasure of spending time with my wife.”

As he bows his head forward to press his lips to your shoulder, the soft strands of his silver hair tickle your skin, making you lean into his embrace and him reaching around you to splay a hand over your swollen belly.

“But I want to go. It’s the feast in honor of the queen announcing her pregnancy, and our brother will be cross with us if we do not attend,” you pout at him. “I just… I just don’t know which dress to choose.”

Daemon, however, knows full well that you’re being less than honest with him about your reluctance to go to the feast, becoming obvious when he starts to trace his fingers over the marks running across the underside of your bump. “That truly is a conundrum,” he says.

Sighing loudly, you try to escape his fingers by leaning further against him. But the friction your rear causes against the cloth is enough to loosen its tie, allowing it to fall to the ground.

The both of you are completely bare now, and he wastes no time in pressing his hard cock snugly into the crevice of your arse, making his desire for you more than clear.

“Let us forget the dresses for now. You know you’ll look ravishing no matter what you wear,” Daemon drawls, running a hand along your side. “Besides, why not allow me to appreciate every inch of you… no dresses involved.”

It sounds far too tempting… if you were in the mood. But with you struggling with your changing body for quite some time now, the thought of unraveling for him discourages you even more. “We do not have time,” you try to protest.

Much to your surprise, your usually insolent husband listens to your words.

“I think you’ll find that we have plenty of time, my love,” he mumbles, taking a step back with his hands raised in defeat. “The time we spend together would be much better than the time spent amongst a bunch of prudes at a feast.”

Not paying a mind to his words, you just nod appreciatively, and bring your attention back to the two gowns still hanging next to the mirror. Perhaps you can make the black one work with the laces tied extra loosely, and you only present at the feast for no longer than two hours.

Daemon stalks around you to stand next to the mirror, shamelessly dragging his eyes over your naked form and watching you inspect one of the dresses.

“Do you not have to dress yourself, husband?” you ask, pinching the fabric of the black dress between your fingers, trying not to pay too much attention to him. But his gaze is intense, burning straight through your skin, and making your body heat up.

You meet his eyes, cocking an eyebrow.

“There is a more important matter for me to tend to,” he objects.

“What are you–” you’re interrupted when your husband grabs the sides of the mirror and hoists it up, bringing it closer to your marital bed.

Turning on your heels, you watch him adjust it and eventually sit down on the bed with both feet planted firmly on the ground. The confusion must be evident on your features, because without a question uttered, Daemon pats his sturdy thigh and parts his legs, silently beckoning you over with a come-hither motion of his fingers.

The sight alone is alluring, his thick cock resting hard and heavy between his thighs, covered in an angry red and aching to be buried inside of you. But wanting to find out what he’s in mind is what brings you closer to him.

You move to climb his lap, wanting to sit astride him like you sit on Silverwing, but Daemon beats you to it. He scoots back slightly and brings his paws to your hips, turning you around. He pulls you back to sit down in the space between his parted legs.

When his hands hook beneath your knees to drape them over his thighs, inevitably exposing yourself to him, you instinctively lean back against him to adjust to the position.

You want to squeeze your thighs together, to hide from him, but his legs stop you from doing so. He brings a hand up to cup your full breast, squeezing lightly and testing the weight and shape of it. They’re full of milk by now, providing for your unborn child, and hard and heavy to the touch.

Pressing his lips to the curve of your shoulder, you tilt your head to the side, not daring to watch your fully exposed reflection in the mirror. You’ve been bare around him the whole time, and he’s fucked you in ways that would bring a blush to certain people’s faces, but something in the current position and your growing insecurities makes you more vulnerable right now.

Daemon adjusts his fingers so that your taut bud pops up between them, and just a bit of pressure is already enough to coax droplets of your milk to spill from it. Your breathing grows heavy, more so because it’s already enough friction to ease some of the tormenting tension.

“I want to see you full and lovely and large, swollen with my seed and carrying my child,” he mutters against your skin. His other hand comes up to cup your chin, pushing your head forwards to all but force you to look at yourself. “And I want you to watch as I worship that precious body of yours.”

The hand on your chin settles at your throat, not squeezing it but tight enough for it to be a warning for you not to move. The other hand releases your breast and trails down to the apex of your legs. It all happens agonizingly slowly, tracing and following every scar that runs along the curve of your bump, until it finally finds your cunt.

As his fingers drag through it, even your husband can’t seem to stop himself from moaning. “You’re weeping for me, my love,” he rasps, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. “So beautiful.” Withdrawing his fingers, they’re glistening with your arousal, connected by faint strings of it as he spreads his fingers.

You whimper, and dip your head back far enough for him to capture your lips. The kiss is sloppy, matching the rhythm he sets up as his fingers trace your cunt.

Daemon hums in approval as you pull away from him to look into the mirror, watching the exact moment his deft fingers ease into you. You gasp at the motion, and put all your weight back against him, melting into his embrace with his muscular arms around you.

There’s a pout on your lips when the pressure of his fingers leaves you again, used to spread apart your folds instead. In the reflection you see his dark blown eyes fixed on nothing else than what lies between your legs, his hard cock throbbing against your lower back as you clench around nothing. “Look how beautiful you look all spread out and ready for me, my love.”

Trying to squeeze your thighs shut, his hand comes from your throat to clasp around one, keeping you spread open for him. “Oh, don’t you dare,” he warns, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

With the heel of his hand pressing snugly against your pearl now, you can’t help but whimper as his fingers enter you again. The pace is slow and languid, making clear that neither of you is in a hurry tonight. It’s all about you.

“Seven hells, just look at you,” he coos against the side of your face, tip of his nose nudging your cheek. He clearly enjoys the confidence you slowly start to muster as his praises go straight to your head, coaxing you to rock your hips against his hand. “You truly have no idea of how much I desire you. Always.”

His words bring another wave of crimson to your cheeks, running down your neck and chest. It’s heaving with all the heavy breaths you inhale, and your taut buds have not softened since he touched them. If everything, his words and gestures have coaxed a few beads of milk to ooze from both, running down the curve of your breasts.

Reaching behind you, your hand rests at the back of his head, entangling into his long, silver hair. “Daemon–” you whimper, but he’s quick to silence you.

“Shush now,” he rasps. “Just enjoy and observe.”

And you certainly do, watching his fingers pump in and out of you as if it’s the most enthralling thing you’ve ever seen.

When he’s sure you’ll keep your legs spread for him, he brings his hand to your full breast again, groping and squeezing it, pinching the little bud to tease even more milk to spill from it.

It’s so much coming together at once. His praise goes straight to your head, making it hazy and longing for more, while liquid fire courses through your veins, ignited by the skilled ministrations of his fingers.

Daemon seems to sense your impending peak, and is determined to work you toward the sweet relief you so desperately crave.

The pace of his fingers increases now, fingers repeatedly brushing the sweet spot inside of you that makes your vision blurry. Pleasure soars through your body, and eventually is enough to snap the familiar knot inside of your belly. And that’s also the moment you can’t watch yourself any longer. The pleasure grows to the point you have to close your eyes to be able to thoroughly enjoy it. But your husband doesn’t seem to mind.

“There you go,” he coos, not slowing down the pace of his hands. “Such a good girl.”

Your walls convulse all over Daemon’s fingers, and with you releasing the sweetest and most desperate sounds your husband has heard in a while, he’s sure he could’ve peaked on spot, more so with the vice-like grip you have on his long hair.

His hand works you through the waves of euphoria, just slightly slowing down, and while your mind doesn’t process some of the praises he mumbles against your skin, your body does; with a renewed wave of arousal dripping out of your cunt.

It’s surprising that the pleasure doesn’t get replaced by overstimulation, especially with just how little time he gives you to recover until he starts pumping his fingers in and out of you at a harsher pace again.

“Gods be good,” you whimper, tipping your head back against his shoulder. Your hand releases his hair and instead you grab his forearm with both, clinging onto it for dear life.

“One more for me, you’re doing so good.”

You have barely time to process the first peak and its repercussions when the second washes over you in an ambush, striking you like lightning. It’s not as intense as the first, but prolonged with his other hand now frantically rubbing your pearl.

“Shh, just let it happen,” he purrs, pressing sloppy kisses to your cheek as you struggle against him.

It takes just a few more pumps of his hand until the pleasure subsides, only leaving a wave of bliss in its wake. Daemon’s hands both stop their ministrations, and you finally feel as though you’re able to breathe again.

As you open your eyes, you see him lick the remnants of your arousal off his fingers, before they tease your buds again, gathering some of your milk to lick off of them as well.

Whimpering and whining at the touch, you just slowly catch your breath. He soothes you by snaking both arms around your form, cupping your swollen belly, and presses gentle kisses to the side of your face.

“You’re an absolute vision in this state, and I do not wish for you to ever doubt that,” he mutters against your skin. “You look more desirable carrying my child, than any other woman does in their most provocative dress.”

Releasing a soft chuckle, you turn your head and capture his lips with yours. A chaste peck is not what he has anticipated, but he’s still happy that he was able to lift your spirits.

“Kirimvose, ñuha jorrāelagon,” you whisper. “Care to help me with the black dress?” Thank you, my love.

“Oh, I will,” Daemon says with a teasing lilt in his voice. He grabs you by the waist and carefully hoists you up, but when he lies you down on your back, you know you won’t be getting into the dress so soon. “But I think I need just a little more time to get fully into the spirit of the occasion.”

The moment he climbs on the bed to kiss his way over your marks and curves, you squeal and squirm, entangling your hands into his hair again.

Viserys can never be angry with you two for long anyway.

[terrestrialnoob]

Harley crawled into the apartment. It was organized, but it looked like the occupant didn't have a lot of time for cleaning. She walked softly through it, taking it in. There were photos of her target and what had to be her family, but no friends or romantic partners. Some had a pair of older adults, matching traits meant bio-parents. More of the photos were of the target and a younger boy - a little brother, the highest likelihood of becoming another target if things go bad.

Harley continued forward, following the light to where her target was. She stood in the doorway, looking in.

Dr. Jasmine Fenton, Arkham Asylum's newest psychologist, just got her degree and everything. She did what most newbies do, actually thinking she could get through to the Joker. Harley didn't want to say it was impossible, but everyone who tried ended up in a new job or dead. Harley would try and make sure it was the former and not the later.

Harley watched as the redhead read over a file as she ate from a takeout box. She didn't want to scare the girl, yet. The scaring her away from Joker came later. So, she had to wait for the perfect moment to-

"I know you're there." Jasmine didn't look up from her file, but held out the last box of Chinese food in Harley's direction. "There's plenty if you want some."

"Awe, you ruined the surprise." Harley walked out of the shadows of the hallway into the girl's home office. She snatched the offered box of food and took a few bites as she jumped to sit on the desk.

"I'm hard to sneak up on." Jasmine said, closing her file and finally looking at Harley. "So, Dr. Quinzel, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit this evening?"

"Oh, call me Harley!" She laughed, she wasn't called Dr. all that often any more. She tapped her chop sticks on the file Jasmine just closed. "I thought you'd like a consult on your new patient, Dr. Fenton. I've got a lot of experience with him."

"I prefer to go by Jazz." She said with a smile, "While I appreciate the offer, I'd like to see how far I can get on my own. And, sorry, but I'm pretty sure your license was revoked."

Harley nodded as she swallowed to get the noodles out of her mouth. "I get it! You're new, fresh outta school, gotta prove yourself. But Joker ain't the guy to do that with. He eats people like us for breakfast, and in all the years he's been in Arkham, no one's been able to get anywhere with him."

Jazz sighed, "I don't like to believe people are lost causes. There's always something we can do to help."

"You can't help everyone, especially when they don't want it. And it's not just a question if whether or not he can be saved or whatever." Harley set down the now empty box, Jazz pointed to another one that still had food in it, but Harley declined. "If you keep it up, he'll think you're worth his time to torment. There's no telling what he'll do when he inevitably gets himself out again."

"I'll be fine." Jazz said, but Harley had to cut her off before she said something stupid.

"It's not just you! You've got family out there he can target, your parents. Your Brother! Anyone you date will become a target! He'll do everything in his power to make your life miserable!"

Jazz chuckled. "If he wants to target my family, his funeral. My parents are - were supervillains. They've really only become less- well, hyper-focused on eradicating an entire race of being- in the past few years. And my brother - I'm pretty sure he's conditionally immortal. So that's nothing to worry about."

"If it's conditional, Joker will find a way around it." Harley said, but she had to admit, this might have been an unnecessary trip. "You sure y'ain't got nothing to worry about? What about you? How conditional is your mortality?"

Jazz smiled. Her mouth seemed too wide and with too many teeth. "Oh, I am nowhere near immortal. But..."

She stood up and the room was suddenly a black void. Toxic green eyes and mouths filled with glowing white teeth opened around them. "I doubt anyone could get close enough to test it."

The room was suddenly back to normal, but whatever that thing was was still there. Harley could see its eyes watching her with amusement from inside Jazz's oversized cardigan.

"Well, I guess this really was a wasted trip. You've clearly got it covered."

"Not entirely." Jazz said, her hand wend up to her neck to rub nervously, "Well, you see... I don't really have a lot of friends. People tend to get - uh, creeped out, you know? Or chased off by my parents or brother or whatever..."

"You wanna be friends?" Harley laughed so hard she almost fell over.

Jazz's face turned bright red and the shadow eyes looked way less amused. "Yeah, stupid question. You've clearly got your own things going on."

"No! No, no." Harley had to take several deep breaths before she could look Jazz in the face again. "I 100% wanna hang out with you!"

"Really?"

"Oh yeah." She took another deep breath, "I mean, I really should have made a support system before trying to take on the Joker back when I worked for Arkham. This" she pointed between them "can only end well."

Jazz's face turned brighter than the sun. "Oh my gosh! This is amazing! We should - I have Thursday's and weekends off - What - what kind of things should we-"

Oh man, Jazz was like an excited kid. She must have had a really lonely childhood... they can psychoanalyze each other later. "Come over for girl's night next week. I'll tell my gf and bff to expect an extra person... Does the-" she motioned to the cardigan creature "-go everywhere you go? Does it need food?"

"Oh, don't worry about Jet, they only eat who I tell them to."

Harley barked out more laughter. "You're going to fit right in!"

Now featuring a Part 2

[mywritersmind]

THE BOOTH - LN4

summary : The booth. A notorious club in the heart of london, where y/n and lando met again after two years of silence.

listen up : fewtrell!reader. She sits in his lap. no smut, just hot and suggestive. creepy guy in the beginning! Prob my fav short i’ve written omg

word count : 1732

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“No.” I giggle out of uncomfortableness at the man getting closer to me.

“C’mon, let me buy you a drink.” the man reeks of alcohol and has fucked up teeth. I’ve seen enough. I pull down the bottom of my mini dress as I stand.

“No.” I repeat, pushing past him. The club is crowded and sticky, I see my friends but a hand around my wrist pulls me back.

“Really? Too good for me?” He scoffs in my face but the next thing I know he’s being pushed away from me.

“She is.” The voice comes from the man in front of me, the guy who pushed this dickhead away. “Piss off. She’s with me.”

The guy seems intimidated enough because he gives me a dirty look and leaves. “Thank y-” I pause when the man turns around.

I pause because the man is my childhood crush, brothers best friend, and fucking formula one driver.

“Lando?” I’m genuinely shocked that the britt I haven’t seen in two years is standing in front of me.

“Y/n!?” He looks me up and down, his mouth open, “Fuck… You look good.” I could say the same for him, in a navy button down, jeans, and his jewelry adorning his hands. He’s ridiculously hot.

I laugh, “Careful Lan, my brother could be lurking.” I switch my weight onto one leg as he smirks.

Max loves Lando. Max loves me.

Therefore, Max HATED the thought of us even speaking. We were all friends in childhood but our teens hit and suddenly I was completely off limits. I’m pretty sure he noticed how much I asked about Lando and swore that he would kill both of us if anything happened.

Someone walks behind him, causing him to get closer, his hand brushing against my hip, “Don’t scare me, yeah?”

I bite my lip at the thought, we start walking across the room, Lando’s hand firmly on me now as he ‘guides’ me. “Don’t worry. Idiots in Monaco… which means we have free rein.”

I see his jaw clench, his drink slide onto his lips again, “I’d like to keep my friendship.”

“I’d like to lose my panties.” I’m quick to reply, messing with Lando used to be my favorite thing.

You see, Lando is Max’s best friend. He feels bad lying and this would definitely be considered a betrayal of trust.

But for me… Max is my brother. I can lie and do whatever I want with no remorse. Lando is something I could do easily and as much as it would make me happy to piss off my brother, Norris has always been that one guy in the back of my mind.

“Christ Y/n. Missed your remarks.” We make it to the wall, it’s a bit quieter over here.

“You mean you missed my flirting?” I look up at him, he just bites his lip, hiding his smile.

“I missed you.” He surprises me with this.

“I missed you too.” I push my hand through my hair, “How’ve you been?”

“Good. Really good.” He smiles big and I know it’s because of his racing.

“Watched your win in Zandvoort.” I sigh, “Simply lovely was brutal.” He rolls his eyes, laughing and leaning his head back on the wall.

“Not you too!”

“It was hilarious! I liked it!” I hit his arm and the way he looks at me… it’s like every emotion that I've tucked away and only opened up in the darkness of my bedroom after midnight, comes out then. “I like this too.”

My hand goes to the back of his neck, playing with his curls that shape his baby mullet.

“Don’t do that.” He shakes his head, his eyes cut into me, his voice weak.

“What?” I say innocently.

“You always do this.”

“Do what, Norris?” Lando never was that much taller than me, but something about the two passed years has changed that.

His tongue runs over his teeth, he’s about to say something but two guys appear next to us, “Mate! We’ve been looking for you!” Another British man speaks, Alex Albon to be exact.

“Found a friend?” Carlos sainz eyes me, dressed in all black.

I smile at the drivers, Lando eyes Carlos. “Max’s sister. Y/n.” They both nod and look much too interested in how Lando says it, “Y/n… this is Alex and Carlos.”

“Pleasure.” I smile wide. I am an F1 fan, it’s a bit weird seeing Lando on the grid but I’ll sit and watch with Max almost every weekend that we’re together.

“Pleasures all ours! I’ve always wanted to meet Lando’s childhood crush!” Lando hits Carlos, making him grab his stomach, “Worth it!” The Spanish man chokes out.

Lando scratches the back of his neck, not looking at me. “Are you here with anyone?” Alex asks me, I knew he would be nice.

“Yeah! I’m not sure where they are but…”

“That’s okay. You have us now!” Alex and I end up getting a drink, Lando stays back with Carlos who’s definitely teasing him.

I get a vodka lemonade and four shots. Alex and I are already best friends and laughing so hard that Carlos and Lando won’t stop asking us what’s so funny.

They don’t know that I showed Alex a photo of Lando and I as smurfs when we were five.

⋆｡‧˚⋆

LANDO NORRIS

Describing Y/n is something i’ve done many times. To friends, for context in stories, but if i’d really describe her… I don’t think I would have an ending point.

She’s got long blonde hair. She cut it all off when she was fifteen and I almost fainted when I didn’t recognize her. She loved it.

She’s confident, you can see it in her walk. Her hips sway and the click of her heels is something I'll never forget.

When she talks to you, all attention is on you, her eyes are hazel, appearing brown in the dark but if you get close enough… you’ll see the green.

She never quite had an awkward stage, always been beautiful, probably always will be. I haven’t seen her in years yet she acts like I talked to her yesterday.

Y/n sucks on a lime after her shot, smiling and clapping her hands together, “God, I feel like i’m in highschool!”

I obviously didn’t go to school with her. She’s a year younger and Max would non stop complain about her. She was more popular than him, going out, and was basically friends with everyone.

I remind myself again that Max is the reason why my arm is around the couch and not her waist.

⋆｡‧˚⋆

Y/N

“Norris!” I stand, holding out my hand, “Picture time.” I smile as he stands with me.

“What?” Carlos asks.

“Called the booth for a reason, Sainz!” I grin at the boys, gripping Lando’s hand tight and maneuvering us through the crowd.

There’s one photo booth in the back corner of the club. It’s notorious for famous photos and making everyone look good.

I look back at the boys who all look confused. All except Lando.

We came to the booth when Lando was in town from F2, we were 17 and 18. Max had gone off with some girl and we found ourselves in this exact booth.

We swore never to talk about it.

But I’m all for repeating history.

“Fewtrell…” He warns in my ear as we walk to the starred booth.

I glance back, dragging out his name, “Norris.”

He gets in first, unlike us as teens, only one person can fit. I smile and watch Lando’s face drop, I sit down on his lap, “Playing with fire here, love.” he says in my ear.

“I don’t mind getting burned.” He slips two coins in, his hand moving to my waist and holding me steady.

We smile first.

SNAP

I move a bit and give him bunny ears.

SNAP

Lando clears his throat, gripping my skin tighter as he looks at me. I move again, my skirt riding up a bit. “Trying to kill me?”

I smile and kiss his cheek, feeling something hard against me.

SNAP

“Of course.” I look at him, “The memories in here… You remember?”

“I’d be an idiot to forget.”

His hand moves down my hip, closer to my thigh. I look at him again as the photo booth starts up for the second time, “I shouldn’t.” He whispers, my face centimeters from his. I hear the whistles outside.

I shift once more, turning more to him. He groans, his head falling backwards and his eyes closing, “Give me a good reason.”

SNAP

He opens his eyes, meeting mine. I know I've got him. My hand rests on his neck, my rings pressing against his skin. He mumbles something but it’s too loud, “Speak up, Norris.”

“Never spoken.” His eyes flick to my lips, trying to get me to promise this is a secret.

“Never ever.” He leans in closer.

SNAP

“Come on rule breaker… I believe in you.” I whisper in his ear and it breaks him. I’m pulling his head closer to me, his lips on mine, a relief like no other.

He grabs ass, pulling me closer in the tiny space. I slip my tongue in his mouth, whimpering a bit. He bites my lip. I’m melting into him. It’s hot and needy but so much more than I could have ever wanted.

SNAP

Kissing Lando at Seventeen was scandalous and drunken. Kissing Lando at Twenty Three flat out sexy.

“Need you…” He whispers into the kiss which makes me almost come undone right then and there.

Someone bangs on the booth, “Alright Lovebirds!” Lando laughs but I'm the one to pull away.

“I can’t leave this booth.” He says quickly, his face red and sweaty.

“You’ll be fine-” I understand what he’s talking about when I go to leave and something brushes against my leg, “Oh.”

He looks away from me, blushing.

I smile, proud of myself for the boner and his pink cheeks, “Aw come on! I’ll cover you.” I wink and he rolls his eyes, He walks out behind me, his arms firmly on my waist again.

The two drivers grin at us, “You covering a boner?” Carlos starts but gets punched for the second time tonight by Lando. He holds his stomach again, “Still worth it!”