#I wish everything big wasn’t spoiled for me though

[ghosthoard]

PART 9

parts 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09

Time’s armor was convoluted. 

He had perfected the art of getting it on on his own years ago, but he always appreciated a helping hand, usually Malon, but recently one of his boys, or his big brother would take the time to help him.

Right now though, Twilight was still sitting by Wild while the camp was dismantled around him and the others set about getting themselves ready. So, Time went through the motions of putting on his chainmail, his tasses, and his fauld alone first.

It had so many pieces and so many straps, heavy and unbendable. Armor such as this made the impression that there were no weaknesses to the wearer nor any openings, but there could never be a perfect armor set if it wanted to allow freedom to its bearer. He remembered learning the hard way that he needed to be aware of where he was vulnerable, where the armor was left open so that he could bend his knees, his arms, have maneuverability of his groin, his neck. 

It was a statement, it was formidable, and it was an old friend.

Every now and then, however, he missed when he was young and spry, when his fighting style relied on speed and being small without being weighed down by all this armor. But he also remembers when he was young and spry wishing he could deal more damage then he did with one strike, to be more of a force to be reckoned with to protect the Captain and Tune’s back. It was a wish he made every time he had donned the Fierce Deity mask.

If he wanted to do sweeping, debilitating damage in one swing of his Biggoron sword, then the armor was a necessity. 

In the process of donning the set, it was his chest piece and his pauldrons where things got more difficult. He used his teeth to hold straps while he maneuvered his arms around locking everything in place. 

But he must be out of practice, too spoiled by the helping hands around him, because the chest piece started to slip and he went to catch it knowing he wouldn’t be fast enough. 

The chest piece stopped falling in midair, and Time blinked.

“Let me help.”

The Captain had caught it, of course, that made more sense.  

Warriors was smiling when Time looked at him. 

“You’re wearing makeup,” shock spilled the words out of him. 

It wasn’t the type of makeup Warriors would put on when he was feeling especially happy, where it made him prettier doing something with charcoal to make his eyelashes more prominent or more playful with colors and patterns. It was the natural, utilitarian style he used during the war when he didn’t want his men or enemies hidden among friends to see him weakening, or when he covered up bruises and scratches and scars. 

Warriors’s eyes dulled slightly but the smile was one made for him and it was patient and loving. “Arms up.” 

Time didn’t listen. The Captain must be getting slow if he expected him to just accept the drop in conversation. He stared and waited. 

Wars sighed, muttering something like, “always been stubborn,” before forcing the chest piece against Time’s chest and instructing him to hold it while he grabbed the back piece. 

Time obediently held the armor in place while Wars set about tightening the straps and speaking, “I thought it wouldn’t be great for our remaining morale if I looked ugly.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Time said immediately. “You don’t have to pretend with us.”

“I know. But I guess old habits die hard. This makes me feel more secure.” Warriors patted him on his pauldron to punctuate his point. 

Before Time could organize his thoughts enough to respond, the Captain asked, “What were you thinking about before I came over?”

Twilight still hadn’t moved. 

Legend was right. They did look like two corpses. 

“I was thinking about how much my fighting style has changed over the years,” he was saying, “How speed was a familiar weapon but something I can no longer wield. How I’m now weighed down by this armor.”

“I’m relieved that you wear it now,” the Captain said with a fond, wistfulness in his voice. “Do you know how stressed I was seeing you on the battlefield without any sort of armor? I’ve thought about scooping you up and dumping you into a full set so often I had dreams about it. But I knew you’d be a little brat about it if I ever brought the idea up.” 

A little bit of childish indignance made him frown. “Tune didn’t wear any either back then.”

“Yeah, well. He at least was mature enough to ask for leather armor as the years passed and he grew bigger.”

Time remembered that. Remembered being jealous when the Captain gifted Tune specially crafted leather armor he had bought just for him and then took the time to spar with the sailor for a couple of days to get used to fighting in it. So jealous in fact that when he was asked if he wanted his own, instead of the truth, he told them it looked dumb and that he was good enough to fight without it unlike some people.  

A funny look had twisted Tune’s face. Back then, Time thought he was laughing at him, but now he knew exactly why. How silly it would be to see a man you had looked up to acting as spoiled and childish as he had been. 

“You were our armor, shield, and sword back then,” Time told the Captain as he now looked over at where Wind was speaking with Sky. “I was never afraid when you were around. Maybe more afraid of what would happen to you.”

“And that was never your burden,” the Captain went to stand in front of him, finished with the armor. The weight was comforting and secure. Time looked at how the foundation was caked on below the Captain’s eyes. “I’m a hero. And so are the rest. You can’t take responsibility for us and our pains,” a knowing look, “or our deaths.”

Time met his gaze daringly. “You didn’t fail us.”

“It was a miracle, and not by my hand that you two outlived the war,” the Captain said sternly, the grain of the powder lessening the lines of his frown. “Don’t hold yourself up against me in comparison.”

“Twilight almost died, Wild has died under my leadership, under my protection. If I had died—”

The Captain closed his eyes and turned away as if the thought physically pained him.

Time continued to land the blow, “—you would have blamed yourself.” 

His brother’s voice was fragile and quiet when he said, “Would you have wanted me to? Would you have agreed if I did?”

“You would believe it no matter what I thought,” he said ruthlessly. “You blame yourself even now for Wild.”

Time saw exactly when the Captain’s walls came up. The makeup looked at home on this expression. “This isn’t about me.”

Hypocrite. Time wanted to shout. You would have me blameless while you wore the same blame on your face! When it was my burden, my son, a curse I set upon my own flesh and blood for being so inadequate my descendants had to make up for it! Even when I am with them I can’t protect them! This was anger, this was grief, this was …uncalled for.

Time rubbed a hand down his face, taking a steadying breath. This was a moment where he needed to step back and get some space. He started to walk away. The Captain didn’t deserve this, his big brother only meant to comfort him and here Time was attacking him like a child. He just needed a moment.

“You decided not to use the ocarina.” 

The words stopped him in his tracks.

The ocarina used to be an easy fix. Goddess knows how many times he’s played the song when he was a child. 

The moment he saw Wild’s body, it had been a burning presence in his pouch. Always there.

It was a possibility that had taken over Time as he sat there for hours beside Wild and Twilight. Not really in his body, not really out of it. He had listened to Twilight’s whining, his howling. The answering silence of Wild’s body. How many more times must he sit helplessly by a loved one?

“If I used it,” Time said carefully, “I don’t know if it’ll rewind for all of us, or split the timeline again. I could disappear from this time, leaving you all behind.”

He would never know. If he used the ocarina, he would never know if the timeline split or if he rewound time for all of them. He’d die never knowing for sure. He would’ve died ignorant of split timelines—of the timeline he abandoned —in the first place if it weren’t for this goddess-given mission. But regardless, there’d be a life where Wild was alive. He could make sure of it. What use was the title the Hero of Time if he couldn’t even make this right?

“I think,” the Captain replied from behind him, just as carefully, “I would rather grieve with you, than to try to undo something without knowing a hundred percent if it’ll work.”

Even with so many secrets shared among their family, not everyone knew about the ocarina, Time wasn’t the type to flaunt the instrument around after all. Wind, Sky, and Wild were there when they talked about the possibility of a split timeline. One less person who knew his secret.  And he had confided in the Captain after the revelation.

Twilight didn’t know.

After that life-altering conversation, before Twilight almost died, Wild had sought him out. The young man had plopped down next to him on the ground, looking at him with those unnerving, blue eyes of his that seemed to see things in Time that even he didn’t know about. 

“I was thinking,” Wild had said, “I was so ready to go back in time when I thought you had the power to. It was a dream come true for a moment, I could go back, fix everything and things would be right again.” 

Something wistful and wise settled around Wild like peace. “But if it meant that I would have to leave you all behind, leave this timeline behind, I don’t think I could do it. After meeting all of you and hearing about all the other adventures you’ve gone on, I can’t expect that my job is done. I abandoned them once before,” Time still remembered Wild’s small smile, “what if they still need me?”

Back at the inn, back in that room where Twilight lay dying, Four had told Time the confrontation he had with Wild outside of Twilight’s sickbed like the guilt of it was killing him. Time remembered being ready for Wild to storm in and demand he use the ocarina should Twilight die. But when, instead of a grief driven little brother, an insightful and inspirational hero came to them, Time realized he was using Wild as an excuse. It wasn’t Wild who would’ve used the ocarina, but him that was tempted in the first place. He was anticipating it, hoping for Wild to give him a reason to. 

“But there’s a chance,” Time continued, turning around to look at his big brother as the man walked over to close the gap he’d made, “if I decide not to take that chance, how could I bear to face him?”

If Twilight knew about the ocarina, would he be the one to demand Time use it? 

Time had never been good at moving on. 

As always, the Captain seemed to know exactly what ailed him, “Twilight wouldn’t risk losing you too. It’d kill him to ask you to use that ocarina as much as it’d kill him if you actually did. And, goddess dammit, Sprite,” a small crack in the Captain’s voice, “I can’t bear to lose you again. And maybe that’s selfish. I would give anything to have Wild back, but—” 

Time reached out as his brother bit his bottom lip and looked away, trying to pull it together. He held onto his Warriors’s wrist and saw how he could completely wrap around it now. He hadn’t been able to before. 

“But not you,” Warriors finished quietly, like the words were poison, like he was disgusted with himself. “I’m asking you to stay.”

“I want to stay,” he had cried through angry, scared tears, clinging to the Captain’s scarf and glaring up at his big brother, the portal that was to take him home a sickly cold presence behind him. “You can’t make me leave. You still need me and you know it.”

“Anyway” Wild’s small smile had stretched into a mischievous grin, “what would you all do without me and my food if I up and vanished? Wouldn’t last a day, I bet.”

His silence must have gone on for too long, because the Captain took a step back from him, pulling out of his grip.

Warriors had schooled his expression back, smoothed the cracks out on his porcelain face. He was looking past Time’s shoulder. “You should talk to him. Then you’ll know that he loves you just as much as Wild and you can forget about this misplaced guilt.”

Warriors was the one to walk away this time. Time didn’t stop him.

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@naxamiss @theyellowfriend @st0rmyskies @chaos-advocate @mothielad @jenniferchaulam @originsofevil @links-in-time @homewardwander @gothroughthelookingglass @seaotter-17 @alicewritingstories @silvrash-797 @niffty24

wanted to get one last part out before the end of the year!!! thanks as always for all the comments, reblogs, and likes! see you guys in 2025!

[groblinboy]

Ok finished red dead for real. Now time to be very normal about it

[luveline]

I was just rereading your marauders sex shop blurb. I love how the boys have just adopted reader into their group, and how open they are with their affection for her. You do such a wonderful job of writing intimacy that rides the line between platonic and romantic. And I love the readers inter monologue of wondering if that intimacy means something more romantic like she wishes. It’s wonderful! I was also wondering if there’s a blurb on how the boys met reader for the first time?

thank you so much, that’s so nice of you <3 there wasn’t one but I hope this is okay!! —Remus, Sirius and James move into their new flat. You’re helpful. fem, 1k

The stairwell is filled with the sounds of kissing. Remus frowns, heart beating quickly, arms aching under the weight of yet another box. He gets to the top of the stairs and peeks around the box’s sides. 

Sitting on the step of their new doorway is James. And, sitting on top of James, stroking his cheek, is Sirius. His hair is falling all over the place and they’re kissing so much Remus assumes they’ll have bruised noses. They often turn their kisses into a fight, like one of them can win, though it never really ends that way. He wants to laugh as Sirius pushes James down for more kissing, and he sort of wants to watch regardless because they’re both good kissers and he’d quite like to be included, but mostly he needs the heavy box put away. 

“Someone please help me,” Remus says. 

James breaks away. Sirius squeezes his face and begins to kiss his neck. 

“Baby,” James says as he pushes him away, which is funny, unlike him and unlike Sirius to be called it, but also not actually unlike either of them when Remus really thinks about it. 

Sirius gives a last peck and pulls away. When he gets up to look at Remus properly he’s flushed all over from the activity, his neck and face turning red in splotches. 

Sirius and James have spent a lot of time spoiling Remus into love. He would’ve ended up there regardless, but he’s used to being the centre of attention. It was nice to see them kissing, and he wishes he didn’t interrupt quickly, but neither party seems to begrudge him. Sirius stands up and James is a second behind him, taking the heavy box from Remus’ arms before it can topple to the floor. 

“We’re on break,” James says with a grin. “Especially you.” 

“We have to take the van back tonight, in case you forgot. There’s still half our stuff in there.” 

“If we have to pay their fine, it’s fine,” James says, shifting the box against his chest. “I’d much rather pay the extra day than have us all hurt ourselves. How will we ever test the big bed if poor Remus can’t move?” 

“Poor Remus,” Sirius says, taking Remus’ hand to play with his fingers. 

This is pretty much everything Remus has ever wanted. To get to keep his two best friends forever, to be in love, to live together in a new city with good food and better cinemas. And here, nobody knows them. Nobody to judge them or give them strange looks. They can just be together like they’ve always wanted to be. 

Remus leans down to put his face against Sirius’ chest, their hands still held, Sirius’ free arm wrapping around him loosely. 

“Tired?” Sirius asks. 

James reluctantly leaves for the kitchen to put down their heavy box. 

“No. We really need to empty the van.”

“We will.” Sirius drops his nose against Remus’ hair. “Cliche if I kiss you?” 

“I like cliches.” 

Sirius puts his lips to Remus temple. Barely a kiss, no movement nor sound, but Remus knows it counts. It’s about intention. 

“Would you like a rough one?” Sirius asks quietly. 

“Maybe later.” 

“Please, let me give you one,” he says. 

“And have you press me into the floor? I don’t think so.” 

Sirius tips Remus’ head up and presses a kiss to Remus’ Cupid’s bow in an act of lifting his face, and then presses an equally gentle kiss to his lips. All this kissing… 

“I’m so happy we’ve moved,” Remus admits. 

Sirius squeezes his fingers, pulling away to meet charmed eyes. “All we need to do is find James a new team, and it’s perfect. Everything, finally.” 

“Hello?” someone calls. 

Sirius and Remus keep their hands held and shuffle across the hall to look down at the square. The flat building is strange, big and with an interior that’s an exterior, and you stand on the grass with a smile. 

“Hi!” you say, hands on your hips. You’re dressed for the strange weather, jeans and a t-shirt and a zip-up hoodie, entirely non-assuming. “Are you guys moving in?” 

“We are!” Remus says back. “You live here?” 

“My friend, I came to make sure her cat was okay, she’s gone to Ibiza. Do you need help?” 

“Oh, no, we couldn’t ask you to!” Remus says. 

“Sure you can!” 

You smile, and Remus thinks you look really lovely when you smile, it changes everything about your face. He feels guilty for the thought quickly, but it’s not as though being in a relationship means he can’t tell when girls are pretty. 

“Are you busy?” Sirius asks. 

You grin and make for the metal stairs up to the flat. 

Remus peeks at him in surprise, then suspicion, but Sirius only smiles at him. “We’re making friends already,” Sirius says, giving him a nudge. “That’s what we wanted.” 

James returns, having taken off his hoodie, a brown t-shirt loose on his frame. His own, then, because he insists on stealing from everybody’s wardrobes and stretching out their clothes. 

“Why are you guys shouting?” 

“Nice girl’s gonna come help us move.” 

James raises his eyebrows. 

‘Nice girl’ makes her way up the stairs. You’re still grinning when you get to the top, unperturbed by the appearance of another boy. “Hi,” you say, holding out your hand for an introduction. “I’m Y/N.” 

It’s the start of a long road. Remus shakes your hand and gets the sort of butterflies he’s terrified of now, though eventually Sirius and James will admit to the exact same thing, and no one will know what to do about it.

[blvdheart]

TIARAS AND TEACUPS

→ just some fluffy drabbles and headcanons on leon being a girl dad

NOTE: listen i don’t even want kids in the future but for this man?? if he was real and mine then trust i would change my mind real quick ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

this is pretty short, less than 1k words hehe

i.

Leon would never hear the end of it from his coworkers if they saw him like this. There was a plastic tiara with fake pink jewels resting atop his hair. He was sitting criss cross applesauce, for he was a little too big to sit on the tiny chairs his daughter had placed her plushies on.

“Daddy, here’s your cup!” She chimed happily, placing a small toy teacup right in front of him.

“Thank you princess, it’s a pretty set.” His hand could easily cover the entire cup, but to be graceful, he held the handle with his thumb and forefinger. “What’s on the menu?”

“Brownies and…and cookies.” She had a small container of them, having gotten some from the batch you baked the other night. “I’m gonna go get mommy, make sure Mrs. Teddy doesn’t drop her tea!”

Leon looked so out of place, but he was happy, watching with a smile as his daughter ran out of the room to go get you. And surely enough, you joined the tea party a couple minutes later, a matching headpiece on your head and your daughter giggling as she tugged you by the hand and took you to where she wanted you to sit.

You couldn’t help but stifle back a laugh when you saw Leon, and he seemed to catch on, grinning at you. “Look who’s late.”

“Fashionably late.” You corrected him as you pointed at your crown, taking a seat on the floor.

“Yay all my guests are here! I’ll hand out the food but don’t eat without me, okay?”

Leon was always emotional when he was in the same room as the two people he treasured the most.

He could still remember when his daughter was just a newborn baby. He almost broke down that day as soon as he heard her first cries, he never thought he’d get the blessing of parenthood.

ii.

If there’s one thing about Leon as a dad, it’s that he really has no backbone when it comes to his adorable daughter. Lecturing wasn’t his strong suit, he just wanted to spoil her. Thankfully, she didn’t have a knack for finding trouble so he didn’t have to worry all that much.

Here Leon was opening the letter he had gotten from his daughter’s elementary school, skimming through it only to see all the positive commentary the homeroom teacher had left. He was a proud father, and he took her on a trip to the store so she could pick out something nice.

“Don’t worry your little head about the price, okay? You deserve something special, you’re doing so well at school.” He gave her head a gentle pat, staying close behind her energetic form as she scanned the aisle for toys.

Toys. Great. Leon was sure he would sob when his little girl started asking for electronics and cosmetics. God, how he wished these years didn’t fly by so quickly. He had to make the most of them.

“Anything? Even a scooter?”

“Uh huh, even a scooter. Want one?”

“Yeah they’re awesome! Can we go look at them? I wanted to ask for one last Christmas but it was really cold so I wouldn’t have even been able to play outside much to use it. But it’s almost summer now so it would be nice and…”

She continued rambling on and on while Leon smiled happily. He held her hand and walked her over to where the scooters and bikes were.

Though he was a little concerned. What if she fell one day and scraped her knee? Or what if she hit her ankle with the scooter? Worst pain ever. Either way, he’d have to buy her a helmet and some knee pads.

Being a dad was kinda stressful.

iii.

Leon would try to be there for major milestones as much as possible. Yeah, sometimes he couldn’t be there because of the spontaneity of his demanding job, but he made sure to make everything worthwhile when he was present.

Whenever her birthday came up, he’d let Sherry babysit her for a few hours so she wouldn’t be at the house while you and him were decorating the place.

“Our little girl is growing up so fast. She’s already wanting to sit in the passenger seat, can you believe that?”

“You big ol’ softie.” You laughed a bit at his sulking, but you felt the same way, going over to hug him and comfort him. He held your hips, nuzzling against the crook of you neck. He loved you so much, he’d know nothing about happiness without you.

“I think I finally understand what the adults in my life would say when I was younger.”

“And what’s that?”

“That when you’re a parent, your children don’t really get older in your eyes. Yeah she’s about to turn ten but…she’s still our baby girl. I feel like she’s still three.”

HEADCANONS

𐙚 Leon would definitely be the type to look up some tutorials on YouTube so he could learn how to do his daughter’s hair. Doesn’t matter if it’s straight, wavy, or really curly. He’ll get all the products and get as much practice as possible

𐙚 For bedtime stories he’d just make up child friendly versions of his missions. B.O.W’s would become dragons, he’d be some sort of knight, and the setting would be a magical forest instead of some isolated and creepy location. And of course there’d be a happily ever after. In a way, this also helps him cope with his experiences

𐙚 Even in a modern world where cards are used more than cash (much to his dismay), he carries around lots of quarters just in case his daughter wants to get something out of a sticker or candy vending machine

[kumkaniudaku]

Back Up

Summary: Terry gets much needed back up during a Christmas shopping outing.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Language

Previous: Spoiled

MASTERLIST

Bodies whipping past each other in a crowded department store made an already exhausting shopping session all the more uncomfortable for Terry. He hated being forced to mingle with the public, scooting past rude customers as they selfishly took up space between messy clothing racks and disheveled aisles. He’d already said more expletives than his mother would enjoy if she were with him and Patrice searching for gifts to round out their early Christmas haul. 

His wife had coaxed him out of the house with promises of his favorite hot meal and one of those Korean face masks he pretended to only kind of like for his willingness to act as her hired muscle for the afternoon. Lugging big boxed items and not so subtly shoving grown men who stepped in her path was his primary task. And, for the work he’d done in two hours, it had to be enough to earn a kiss or two as a reward for good behavior. 

Patrice and Terry stood side by side as she carefully and quietly scanned a printed spreadsheet lined with multiple names and items. 

“Hey, boo, did you see if that juicer back there was marked down? I wanna grab it for Mama.” 

Terry tinkered with the buttons on a display air fryer and shook his head. “I wasn’t looking, but everything in here seems to be on sale. Need me to go back for you? I don’t mind.”

Despite his disdain for the current circumstances, he’d gleefully double back to fulfill Patrice’s wishes. She reached out to stroke his muscled arm as a thank you for his effort.

“No, that’s okay, baby. How about you meet me over by the tableware instead so we can divide and conquer? I need to grab a new cutlery set so we can throw ours out and then get out of here. Promise. I know you’re ready to eat.”

“And go the hell home,” he grumbled. “I don’t understand how you deal with all this.”

His deep scowl, usually a deterrent for strangers looking to avoid conflict, only made him look like an adorable petulant child to Patrice. A grin spread across her face as she approached him to smooth her palms arose his broad chest. 

“I know, Pooh. You’re doing a great job, though. All cute and patient for me.” 

Praise from her for even the simplest tasks never failed to switch off his defenses and soften his heart into jelly. If asked, he’d vehemently deny that he enjoyed being cooed at like a child, but Patrice caught the uncontrollable happy twinkle in his eye as she pushed up on her toes to kiss his cheek. 

He attempted to regain his composure to save face. “You’re talkin’ to me like a baby.”

“Not just any baby. You’re my baby.” More pecks on his stubbled jaw made Terry groan and roll his eyes as he slowly gave in. Sweet talk had prevailed and he was back to being wrapped around her ring finger like the shining wedding band she’d been wearing for a little over a month. She pinched his cheek and smiled in triumph knowing the battle was won. “I’ll be quick, I’ll promise. Two minutes!”

“So we cool with only two minutes now?”

Patrice mirrored Terry’s cheeky grin as she backed away in search of her final gift for the afternoon, leaving him proud of his suggestive joke. 

He prayed they could hit 120 seconds on the dot for the first time in their lives. His feet ached. His stomach growled louder than the Michael Bublé songs playing over the store’s speakers. His patience was thin. If he wasn’t in the comfort of home within 45 minutes, he’d have to introduce the public to a version of Terry no one should have to meet. 

Following Patrice’s instructions, Terry mosied toward a glittering section full of discounted crystal and fine china. Where others saw Patrice as a complex maze of desires, feelings, and unmeetable demands, Terry knew exactly what she liked. Natural textures and earthy tones kept their home grounded in nature to match her love for the small flower garden she kept in the backyard. Every kitchen accessory, big and small, revolved around the coveted ivory dinner set she purchased with her first check as an educator. Forks and spoons would be no different. Terry didn’t need another hand slap and stern lecture to learn that lesson.

His fingers tracked option after option on cluttered shelves until he found two sets of flatware that fit her strict specifications. Sleek? Check. Matching her favorite plates and blows? Got it. He prided himself on making her decisions easier and this latest attempt was his best to date.  

Grabbing the first set was a piece of cake. He slid it from the shelf with no issue to place into the already-packed shopping basket. The second attempt came with a struggle as another, much daintier hand attempted to tug his wife’s prize from his grasp. 

Terry looked down to find a small, frail older woman with ivory skin and a tight frown looking back at him with contempt. He tugged a little harder, but she pulled back. 

Not wanting to cause a scene for fear of being seen as the angry Black man terrorizing fellow patrons, he tried placating the older woman with a polite smile and disarming chuckle. “This is for my wife, actually. You know how that goes. I’m happy to give it to you if she chooses otherwise, though.” 

The attempt at a friendly tone and winning smile did little to deter his unlikely adversary. What charm he thought he possessed only seemed to make her angrier. She eyed him up and down, thin lips twisted into an indignant smile as she attempted to nab the item a second time to no avail. 

“But you already have one,” she complained, pointing at the item in his basket. “You can’t have another.” 

“I’m not trying to have two. She’ll make a decision and put back what she doesn’t want.”

“So, you’re just gonna hold it?” 

Terry regarded her with a blank stare. “…Yes.”

“You can’t do that!”

“Will you be the one to stop me or what?” 

There wasn’t much left in Terry’s tank for niceties. Greying hair and crepey skin wouldn’t do much to stop a tongue-lashing if static was what she was after. 

The woman stood firm, reaching to grab the item from Terry’s hand but missing when he snatched it back. She raised her voice. “I’m going to have security come over here and make you give it up.”

“Ma’am, I truly do not care who you call. Stop trying to put your hands on me.” 

“Or what?” She was challenging a nearly unshakeable man. He didn’t budge and it left her incensed. She attempted another angle. “Call your wife over here. Go on! I want to talk to her face to face.” 

He scoffed and shook his head. “Nah. You don’t want that. Call security. It’s better for everyone involved.”

“Call her over here!”

“I’m not about to let you piss her off and ruin the rest of my day. Let’s figure something out.”

She had no idea what she was asking for, the kind of trouble she was welcoming into her life. Terry tried to reason with her. He tried to compromise to keep the peace. But, as Patrice rounded the corner to find an unfamiliar woman embroiled in a verbal tussle with her man, time had just run out. 

“Oh, no ma’am,” Patrice started with the look of a protective mother in her eyes. “You better figure that out and quick. We’re not playing that game. What’s the problem?” 

Fear gripped the older woman as Patrice approached. Terry slowly placed the second set of utensils in the basket and scoffed. Whatever happened next was up to God and whoever his newest foe served.

“I told you,” Terry reminded, shaking his head. “Good luck.”

“Is this your husband?” 

Patrice moved to stand in front of Terry with the juicer in tow, acting as a human shield. She spoke low and slow. “And what about him? What exactly is your issue?” 

Terry watched the exchange with bated breath. Her calmness was a war tactic she employed to size up her enemy. At any moment she might explode and leave you shell-shocked.

“He has two sets of flatware in that cart saying he’s waiting on you to decide. That’s not fair! Choose one,” the woman accused, her voice rising in a feeble attempt to intimidate Patrice.

“That’s not how shopping works! We’ll buy every single one of these motherfuckers if we want to! Who gon’ stop us?”

“With cash, too,” Terry mumbled in support.

The woman clutched invisible pearls, feining disgust at the use of adult language. “What a foul mouth! That is not the way you speak to people. Especially not your elders. ” 

“Baby, if you keep talking to this one behind me crazy, my mouth will be the last thing you need to worry about.”

“Is that a threat?” 

She should’ve prayed for a threat. A threat would’ve been the easy way out - a free pass to avoid making an enemy of someone with such an intense passion for using quick wit and a slick tongue to eviscerate her opponents. 

Patrice calmly turned to thrust the heavy juicer into Terry’s arms without a word before turning to make her point clear. He shook his head in pity. Poor woman. She’d tell this story to her family at dinner later, looking for sympathy when what she really needed was the foresight to recognize when she encountered the verbal assassin he called his better half.

Silently, he mouthed Patrice’s favorite opening statement in time with the words leaving her lips.

“Let me tell you something.” Terry smiled to himself, knowing he had her down to a science. Patrice pointed a manicured finger in her direction for extra emphasis. “I’m sure we’ll never meet again, but hopefully this will help you the next time you think about running up on someone you don’t know. Don’t you ever holler at my husband or your ass’ll have to cash that check your mouth wrote this afternoon. Have I made myself clear or are you so deprived of the sense God gave you that you need a demonstration?”

This time, Patrice’s heavy suggestion to drop the issue before it could escalate and retreat to another section of the store was received with renewed clarity. The woman huffed in defeat. Terry and Patrice watched her reluctantly pluck another option from the shelf and scurry away with her tail between her legs. Patrice tracked her with her eyes and a scowl that looked just like her husband’s on her face until the coast was clear. 

Terry watched her try to physically reset by rolling her shoulders down and back, but her face betrayed her once she turned to face him. 

She reached for the sets of cutlery and examined both under harsh fluorescent light. “These are nice. I think I like the left more though.” 

“Treece.” 

“Mmm, but the left is a little bulky now that I look at it. Maybe the right? Which one did you like?” 

“Patrice.” Terry used his index finger to tilt Patrice’s head upward and redirect her attention. The corners of his lips lifted into a small smile before leaning down to kiss her nose. “Thank you, Piggy. I had it, but I love when you back me up. What you want as repayment tonight?” 

“Mmmm, my feet hurt a little. Think you can work your magic?” 

He hummed in response. “I was gonna do that anyway for myself. Pick something else.”

“I want you to help me pick eating utensils so we can get out of here,” Patrice laughed to discharge the tension growing between them. “Left or right?”

“The left is my choice. But I’ll buy every single one of these motherfuckers in here if you want ‘em.”

His callback had both of them dissolving into a fit of giggles that only stopped once another patron browsing the aisle forced them to make a quick decision and make a move to return to their side of town. 

In the car, Patrice playfully jabbed a finger into Terry’s arm as they pulled out into mall traffic. “Don’t you go tellin’ my mama and daddy about this. I don’t have time for their mouths today. And stop letting people talk to you crazy in the first place. I’m serious, Terry.”

“Yes ma’am. You have made yourself abundantly clear.” 

“Shut up!” 

Silly jokes about the absurdity of hemming up an old woman passed between the pair as they sat in a bumper-to-bumper jam were interrupted by an incoming call on the car’s Bluetooth system. 

“How you doin’ mama,” Terry answered as soon as the call connected, leaving Patrice to entertain herself. “I got Treece in the car. You know she threatened to stop feeding me if I didn’t go shopping with her. Crazy, ain’t it?” 

“That’s what she should do! No way she should be out there with all these holiday crazies by herself.” 

Patrice nodded in agreement. “Thank you, Ms. Dee. You get the biggest gift under the tree this year.” 

“Oh, thank you, Treecey Girl!”

“Hold on, hold on,” Terry interjected. “Treecey is a holiday crazy! Let me tell you how she just threatened an old lady about some forks and knives today.”

“Terrence, don’t sit up here and lie. My girl is way too sweet for that.”

“Hand to God, mama. Almost body slammed somebody’s grandma.” Terry bore all of his teeth in an impish grin as Patrice’s eyes grew wide. 

“Snitch,” she mouthed at him before responding to Diedra. “Okay, threatened is an over-simplification. She was yelling at your son and I stepped in!” 

“Yelling!? Girl, start at the top.” 

The message ‘I can’t stand you’ typed into a note and flashed in his direction made Terry choke back laughter as he listened to Patrice defend her actions. Though he knew what he was doing, in his mind, she should’ve been more specific in her instruction. 

She never said he couldn’t tell his mama.

-----

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TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @onherereading @hrlzy @becauseimswagman1 @thiccc-c @urfavblackbimbo @blackburnbook @ashanti-notthesinger @xo-goldengirl @ariiijestertheklown @blyffe @tvchi @wabi-sabi1090 @blackmoonchilee

[redvexillum]

@whatswrongwithblue Thank you for the request! I tried my best to showcase really long "fuckening" LOL. I would like to dedicate this story to @safination for writing two Adam x Reader stories for me - I'm just super touched, oh my god, thank you!

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, p in v, tentacle s♡x, double penetrati♡n, marathon s♡x, oral s♡x, finger♡ng, an♡l, suspension, squirt♡ng, cunniling♡s, established relationship, soft alastor, alastor being a lil shit, rough s♡x, b♡ndage, ♡verstimulation

An invisible weight tugged down your eyelids, and your shoulders drooped as if bound by chains trying to drag you down. Your eyes burned, your lips felt dry, and your head began to spin. Even in Hell, exhaustion was inescapable. You glanced over at Alastor, who hummed softly as he cleared away the cup of Zestea with a snap of his fingers. 

You adjusted the soft, fuzzy towel wrapped around you, sitting on the bed with damp hair draped over your shoulders. Fresh from a warm bath Alastor had prepared, you’d hoped it would relax your body, but all you felt was the maddening sensation of a mind wide awake while your body remained fatigued. 

“Ugh, I can’t do it,” you whined, pressing your forehead against your knee and tapping it in frustration. “I’ve been trying to sleep for days, Alastor.” As you lifted your head, you caught his eyebrow arching at your childish display. 

The longer you went without sleep, the whinier you became, feeling reduced to a petulant child. You knew it wasn’t fair, but the frustration of your body resisting your mind’s wishes was beyond torment. 

“Darling,” Alastor began, his voice velvety smooth. 

“Ugh!” You cut him off by flopping back onto the bed, starfishing as the towel wrapped around you started to loosen. “This suuuucks!” you groaned, lightly kicking your heels against the bed in an attempt to release your growing frustration. 

“Darl-” 

“I don’t understand! I tried everything.” You rolled onto your stomach and shut your eyes tightly. “I was such a terrible insomniac back when I was alive, and now I have to deal with this for the rest of eternity?” 

“Dar-” 

“What kind of crappy hellhole is this? This seems petty, even for the big guy upstairs, don’t you think?” you continued, oblivious to your surroundings. 

“Darling!” Alastor finally raised his voice, and at that moment, tentacles erupted from the bed, grasping your limbs. 

Your arms and legs twisted at awkward angles as your body hovered over the bed. The towel slipped free, landing quietly on the bed and baring your form before Alastor. 

"Thirteen times," Alastor murmured, his voice dripping with unrestrained amusement, his crimson eyes glinting as they pinned you in place. His hands tucked neatly behind his back, he seemed perfectly composed, though the smirk curling at the edges of his mouth betrayed a darker intent. 

Confused, you blinked up at him—only to yelp as the cool, silken press of his shadow tendrils began to glide over your bare skin, teasingly slow. One snaked its way between the cleft of your ass, trailing with lazy patience, the tip wriggling just at your entrance, coaxing a sharp intake of breath from you as pleasure rippled up your spine. Every nerve felt alive, electric, your skin flushing under his unwavering gaze. 

"Thirteen times you’ve been acting like a spoiled child today, darling," Alastor’s voice was smooth, chiding, though his eyes were lit with something wicked, ravenous. 

Another shadowy tendril traced up your neck, its soft, almost squishy texture making your skin prickle. Then, with one swift movement, it pressed into your mouth, muffling any protest you might’ve made as it filled you. Another tendril wrapped its gentle, pulsing form around your heated skin as it circled down around your breasts, caressing and teasing. 

“Mhm…” You tried to respond, your voice muffled, a low hum of pleasure vibrating through you as the tendrils toyed with you. When the tendril in your mouth finally pulled back to let you gasp for air, another tendril plunged deep into your slick core, sliding in with one smooth, tantalizing stroke, filling you completely. A gasp escaped your lips, mingling with a moan as the feeling of fullness set every inch of you aflame, your body helplessly arching into his touch. 

“Thirteen times, I’ll help you,” Alastor drawled, his voice low and edged with dark delight. His eyes narrowed to glittering crescents as his grin grew, sharp and almost feral. "Relax," he whispered, his tone smooth as honey as the tendrils inside you began to move, slow and steady, drawing out every inch of pleasure. Each movement left you wanting, needing, as he drew out every moment, teasing you with that maddening slowness. 

Your body began to melt under his control, a soft moan spilling from you as your muscles, once taut with frustration, relaxed into his grip. “Does it feel good, darling?” Alastor’s voice dropped to a husky murmur, another shadow tendril swirling around one of your nipples, tightening into a small, deliciously snug loop that squeezed and teased. 

“Ah!” Your eyes fell shut, hips rocking as your chest arched forward, giving him everything to see, to touch. “Y-yes,” you gasped, your words coming out in soft, breathless sounds, the tendril inside you quickening, its movements slick, rhythmic, filling the air with soft, lewd sounds as it thrust deeper, harder. "Oh, Alastor, it’s… hah… oh," you panted, your voice breaking into needy little cries as he guided you to the edge, the tendrils driving you further and further until pleasure crashed over you in waves. 

Your stomach muscles quivered as your whole body tightened, a cry escaping as your walls clenched around the tendril inside, shuddering through every inch of you. 

"One," Alastor murmured, his grin never wavering, his gaze searing into you with that dark promise. 

In the hazy bliss of release, realization dawned, sending another thrill of anticipation through you—he intended to count each of your climaxes, to draw out every peak, never stopping until he reached thirteen. 

As you struggled to catch your breath, the tendrils began their slow, relentless dance once again. They curled against your still-sensitive walls, pressing and stretching you as warmth and pleasure bloomed anew. 

"F-fuck," you exhaled, as the shadow tendril that once entered your mouth slipped between your parted lips once more, moving slowly in and out, coaxing yet another trembling moan from deep within. 

Once more, that searing pleasure began to build, crashing into the remnants of your last release. It was a mere matter of minutes before another wave surged through you, and this time, the heat seemed endless, a delicious agony of pleasure that took over completely. 

With each wave, your mind grew hazier, lost in the raw, pulsing need that Alastor seemed to stoke with every touch. The world became a blur of pleasure, each second stretching, lingering. At one point, you found your head thrown back, legs stretched out and quivering, your body suspended just above the floor. Alastor’s mouth was buried between your thighs, his deep hums reverberating through you as his tongue explored every sensitive inch of your core, slow and pleasing, dragging out every moment. 

Drool escaped from the corner of your parted lips, trailing down your cheek as shadowy tendrils wrapped around you, coaxing your mouth open wider, sliding between your lips and wiggling against your tongue. Every inch of your body burned under his gaze, his presence radiating a heady power that made your pulse quicken.

“Mhm,” Alastor hummed in satisfaction, the dark glint in his eyes making your heart race. In the haze, you heard the metallic clink of his belt buckle loosening, followed by the sharp whisper of his zipper. His hot tongue continued to lap at you, his lips wrapping around your folds as he sucked your clit, firm and lingering, the touch like fire against your swollen, oversensitive skin. 

“MMPH,” you gasped, the sound muffled by the tendril holding your mouth open, but the helpless, desperate sound escaped all the same. Your eyes widened as his fingers began circling your tight entrance of your ass, the slick warmth of his touch teasing, coaxing as he eased one finger inside, withdrawing, then pressing deeper with each slow stroke. 

His tongue thrust deeper, finding every hidden spot, his finger pressing against that thin sensitive wall between your two entrances. The dual sensation was too much, the pressure building and consuming you, your walls clenching helplessly around his tongue as another wave crashed through you, leaving you breathless, your abdomen tightening with the force of release. 

Every lick, every draw of his lips against your clit left you trembling, lost in the sweet torture he inflicted with such calm, focused precision. Each stroke was perfectly timed, drawing out each moment, extending your pleasure as though he revelled in the sounds you made, the way your body arched and jolted beneath him. 

In the fog of pleasure, you heard him murmur, “Seven.” 

When you came to your senses again, you found yourself bent over, your body limp and pliant, the tendrils holding you aloft in midair as though you were a doll, utterly at his mercy. A bead of drool stretched from your parted lips, joined by tears of pleasure as your mouth let out soft, pleading moans. The two tendrils were thrusting into you now, each movement synchronized, the slick, wet sounds filling the air as they moved with a steady, unrelenting rhythm. 

Your gaze drifted up, finding Alastor seated at the edge of the bed, his hand wrapped around his own hardened length. He stroked himself as he watched you, a look of dark satisfaction glinting in his crimson eyes. 

It was only when one tendril hit that perfect spot within you, pressing firmly against your G-spot while the other filled your other tight entrance completely, that you finally broke, a scream tearing from you as the overstimulation shattered something deep within. The tendril at your lips pulled away, only to be replaced by something hotter, thicker, its weight heavy on your tongue, the taste of salt and musk filling your senses as Alastor’s cock pressed between your lips, sliding deep. 

A warm rush of arousal trickled down your thighs as your voice was muffled by his length, the taste and heft of him only heightening the fiery pleasure rippling through your body. Endless waves crashed over you, each movement of the tendril against your G-spot triggering new jolts of ecstasy that seemed boundless, unending, leaving you helpless to the pleasure he so expertly, mercilessly gave. 

Alastor groaned above you, his breath warm and rough as he slowly pushed his thick, heated cock in and out of your mouth, holding you steady, savouring every inch of movement. His pace was unhurried, each slow thrust teasing, almost torturous, as his gaze locked onto yours, intense and devouring. Your arousal dripped down your thighs, tracing warm, wet trails along your skin, each drop pooling and slipping from the tips of your toes. 

“Twelve, darling,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, edged with delight. “Let’s make the last one count.” 

The world around you swirled as he lowered you back onto the bed, your body sinking into its soft warmth. Breath ragged, eyes misted, you lay sprawled out, hips trembling from the relentless pleasure that still pulsed through you. Your skin felt hot, nerves buzzing, and each lingering touch of his fingers traced over your sensitized flesh like fire. 

Your eyelids grew heavy with exhaustion, every inch of your body both sated and aching. Alastor moved above you, the rough fabric of his suit brushing against your sensitive skin, heightening every touch. His face hovered just inches from yours, close enough that his breath ghosted over your lips as he let the length of his cock trail along your soaked folds, the friction sending sparks of pleasure that left you breathless. 

“This one’s mostly for me,” he murmured, a wicked grin spreading as he gently brushed damp strands of hair from your forehead, his fingers warm against your skin. 

Your body arched in response, anticipation building as his thick cock finally pressed against you, the heat of him molten as he slowly entered, stretching you inch by inch. Your breath hitched, a hoarse, needy sound escaping as he filled you, the sensation overwhelming. He didn’t stop until he was buried to the hilt, his belt buckle pressing sharply against your heated skin, a rough contrast that only heightened the feeling of fullness. 

Every muscle in your body clenched as waves of pleasure rippled outward, your nerves raw and hypersensitive, ready for another release that you could feel building within. Your lips parted, words caught in your throat as a helpless whimper slipped out, each slight twitch in response to his touch making you tremble. 

With one hand, he held the top of your head, his fingers threading into your hair as he grinned, dark eyes gleaming. Alastor drew back slowly, then snapped his hips forward, and your back arched as your breasts bounced, his rough pace jolting your body with each thrust, his grip on your head keeping you steady as his cock found every sensitive spot within. 

“Al—” you gasped, voice breaking, your eyes rolling back, lids heavy with exhaustion and pleasure, each blink longer as your mind swam in the intensity. 

He drew back and drove forward again, hips pressing hard against you, each impact a sinful contrast against the throbbing heat of your body. The sensation was overwhelming, each strike pressing into your sensitive clit, bringing you higher. His grunts mingled with your soft moans, and the rhythmic creaking of the bed was all you could hear, each movement pushing you to the edge, again and again. 

The relentless rhythm sent you deeper into bliss, every thrust pressing you into the mattress, each slick sound growing louder as he moved faster, harder. His cock rubbed against your inner walls, hitting all your sensitive spots, while the front of his pelvis struck your swollen clit with every thrust, sending a sharp, electrifying pleasure through you. 

Your mouth opened in a silent scream, pleasure breaking over you in a blinding rush, your body writhing as the release washed through you. Darkness tinged the edges of your vision, and you cried out, guttural and raw, as another flood of arousal spilled from you, leaving you trembling, body spent in the aftermath of pure ecstasy. 

You couldn’t open your eyes, let alone move your body. A dull heaviness clung to you, making every part of you feel like lead. Vaguely, you felt a twitch in your leg, a reminder of the overwhelming sensation that had consumed you earlier, leaving you utterly exposed. Your body lay wide open, but at that moment, you felt a delicious thrill rather than shame, too intoxicated by the aftershocks of pleasure to care. Gradually, the world around you faded into a blissful oblivion, and you drifted into unconsciousness. 

When you finally woke up, the first sensation was the softness of the sheets against your skin. You blinked blearily, realizing you were curled up in your pyjamas, holding on to your pillow. Every muscle ached, a pleasant reminder of the night’s indulgence, but your mind felt clearer now. As you looked around, confusion settled in; you were alone in the vast expanse of Alastor’s bed, surrounded by the lingering scent of him.

Holding the pillow tightly to your chest, a cold wash of loneliness hit you, heavy and suffocating. How could he have fucked you into unconsciousness and just left? The least he could do was stay, to wrap his arms around you and share the warmth after such an intense experience. A sigh escaped your lips, a mix of frustration and yearning. Perhaps he had cuddled you while you were lost in sleep, but the emptiness in the bed felt cold, and you craved his presence. 

Contemplating, you tried to settle back down, hoping to find solace in sleep again, but the silence of the room felt stifling. With a huff of irritation, you realized you were back at square one—restless and alone. Sitting up, you pulled the pillow against your chest, desperate for a sense of comfort. 

A sudden spark of determination flickered within you, and you decided to check the Radio Tower. It was his usual point of interest, and you hoped he might still be there. Climbing the stairs, excitement bubbled in your chest. Peering through the door window, you caught sight of Alastor’s back, his smooth voice floating through the air like music, wrapping around you and bringing an involuntary smile to your lips. 

Perhaps you could wait for him to finish his business, and then the two of you could go for a stroll. Settling onto the weathered couch, you tucked your knees in and hugged the pillow tighter. Resting your head back, you closed your eyes, focusing on the sound of his voice. 

“One might say they were quite bone dry by the time they left Cannibal Town, hahaha,” Alastor laughed, his transatlantic accent rolling over you like a warm caress. 

You couldn’t help but snort at his silly word play, the sound bubbling up despite the heaviness in your heart. You leaned into his words, letting them wash over you, wrapping you in a cocoon of warmth and familiarity. As he continued to speak, you felt yourself begin to relax, the tension in your body melting away. 

But before you knew it, his voice began to fade, the room darkening around you, pulling you into its depths. The warmth of the couch enveloped you, and soon, your consciousness slowly slipped away once more, leaving behind a lingering ache for his presence. 

Alastor let out a soft sigh, brushing off invisible dust from his arm as he stepped outside, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. He felt a swell of happiness, not only because he had pleased his darling, but also because he had managed to broadcast his show right on time. Yet, as his eyes adjusted to the dim light, they caught sight of you curled up on the couch, fast asleep. 

A flicker of concern crossed his face, his brows knitting together as he wondered why you were sleeping in such an uncomfortable spot instead of the cozy bed he had prepared for you. He opened his mouth, ready to chastise you for choosing the couch over the warmth of your own bedding, but as he got closer, his breath hitched. The soft, gentle expression on your face silenced him. 

Alastor paused, his hand hovering just above your shoulder, a mix of irritation and affection coursing through him. Should he really wake you? But before he could make up his mind, a smirk tugged at his lips, and with a snap of his fingers, a plush blanket materialized, draping softly over your body. He couldn’t help but soften the jagged edge of his smile when he heard the lovely sigh that escaped your lips as you instinctively snuggled deeper into the pillow, blissfully unaware of his presence. 

He stood there, captivated, his eyes locked onto your serene face. A warmth spread through his chest as he observed you, unblinking and utterly entranced. The urge to simply leave and let you rest was his first thought, but instead, his fingers betrayed him. They reached out, tracing the strands of your hair, lifting a lock gently before placing a tender kiss upon it. His heart swelled as he watched you, his typically sharp demeanour softening in the glow of your innocence. 

But then, as if splashed with icy water, reality struck. He quickly dropped your hair as if it had burned him, a flicker of panic dancing in his eyes. He darted a furtive glance around, ensuring no one had witnessed this moment of vulnerability. Alastor, the ever-composed radio demon, was suddenly aware of how uncharacteristic his actions had been. 

The sensible thing would be to let you sleep, especially after the struggles you had faced throughout the week. Yet, against his better judgment, he summoned a chair next to you, settling down with a resigned huff. 

As he waited, a swirl of emotions churned inside him—anticipation, affection, and a strange sense of longing. He found himself drawn to the idea of spending the rest of eternity by your side, watching you awaken to a world painted in shades of endless amusement, delight, and his presence. 

Follow #vexitober 2024 to read my questionable kink/fluff stories!

[maxdibert]

I know this might be more aggressive than I usually do, but I'm honestly tired. I can't help but believe that the marauders fandom lives in a completely different reality than mine.

They love to force how good James Potter was, but this same James exposed Severus' intimacy. “He had no intention”, if a person takes the life of another without intention, does that change that a person died? It doesn't change. But they love to say that because there is no intention, there is no guilt, when that's not how it works. Besides all the repetition of how Severus was an incel and James was the one who sincerely loved Lily. The epitome of agape, they say, when in reality, he was just a spoiled little rich boy who can't hear "no" from a girl and get on with his life and instead he... *checks notes* threatened and blackmailed their supposed “love” in addition to chasing his best friend with his gang of idiots and, at the same time, leading the other to hell, even though said boy heard the girl’s “no” and disappeared from her life as she asked.

They act as if Severus being a spy was no big deal and it was his obligation to do something to defeat Voldemort, when it wasn't, he had already done enough by going out of their way to give a warning about the Potters' safety. Aside from the stilted speech that "he did it for the girl", when, amazingly, said girl, at this point, is already dead, he would have gained nothing by doing what he did for the wizarding world. It seems like a competition about who objectifies Lily the most in Severus' life, when Severus: never said anything negative about her, never assumed anything about her sex life or even said that she deserved to die for not choosing him, on the contrary , he blamed himself and wished for his own death. "But, look, he bullied the son of the woman he said he loved, that's definitely obsession," his character flaws in relation to Harry were never about Lily but about old memories of his bully. His problem was always unique and exclusive to James Potter. Every time he insults Harry it's always "you're like your father", but never once did he say anything even remotely negative about Lily or blame her for cutting off her friendship with him. But still, the fandom loves to spew nonsense about how he "wanted to get into the girl's pants and got angry when he couldn't."

I vented, sorry.

That’s why I genuinely think most Snaters are just kids—they see everything in black and white and don’t understand that life doesn’t work that way. Severus didn’t owe anyone anything. The fact that he felt bad about Lily wasn’t an obligation; he could have not cared and it still would’ve been fine. Lily cut ties with him. Lily married his bully. It would’ve been completely justified for him to see her as a piece of trash after she ended up with James. Honestly, I would’ve seen her as trash. If a former friend of mine pulled something like that—ending up with someone who had physically and psychologically tormented me for years, knowing full well what I went through—they’d be lucky if I didn’t burn their house down for being such a piece of work.

But Severus's relationship with Lily carried an enormous emotional weight because she had been his attachment figure for many years. So it makes sense that he ended up feeling so guilty, especially since he was the one who told Voldemort the prophecy. But again, even the prophecy wasn’t something he shared with malicious intent. Severus was doing his job as an agent in a war (even if he was on the "wrong" side), and it just so happened that his work unintentionally affected someone he cared about. Of course, he felt guilty afterward—it’s completely understandable. Anyone in his position, with his life experiences, would.

If I were in his place, though? I would’ve ignored Lily completely. Let her and her bully of a husband die, honestly, LOL.

One thing I find fascinating about Severus is how much things actually matter to him. He cares about repaying his debt to society. He cares about redeeming himself for what happened to Lily. He cares about doing the right thing to atone for his mistakes. And he doesn’t have to care, because all the people he sacrifices himself for are people who treated him like garbage at some point.

He didn’t have to be loyal to Dumbledore, especially after Dumbledore forced him to stay silent when he was almost killed as a teenager, made him keep that secret, and left him out in the cold. He didn’t have to be loyal to Lily either. No matter how their friendship ended, I think it’s indefensible (and I’m sure others would agree) for her to get involved with a spoiled rich kid whose whole reputation was built on tormenting others. He didn’t have to risk his life for the Order when most of its members openly despised him his entire life.

He didn’t have to do any of it. And honestly? It would’ve been justifiable for him not to, given his context and his past. But he did. He did all of it because he wanted to be a better person.

Sure, his personality doesn’t always reflect that, but let’s be real—that’s the personality of someone who never stops suffering. His reactions aren’t strange—they’re the normal reactions of someone with unresolved trauma who’s reached adulthood without the chance to fully develop emotional or social maturity because of that same trauma.

And of course, he didn’t need to beg for James’s life. If I were Severus, I wouldn’t have asked Voldemort to spare James. I’d have asked him to inflict the worst possible torture on James before finishing him off. But then again, I’m Spanish, and we Mediterraneans have hot tempers and always choose violence, LOL.

But seriously, I’m so fed up with the endless whining about why Severus did this or that. It doesn’t matter why. The fact is, he did it. The important thing is that his actions contributed to a cause, and thanks to him, the world was saved. Everything else is irrelevant because, let’s be honest, many of us would’ve walked away from saving a society that judged, mistreated, and condemned us without a second thought.

[goodlucktai]

Are you still taking prompts? If so, could I ask for some rise!Raph and Mikey? Their brotherly relationship really intrigues me and I wish we could have seen more of it develop in the show, and I just know you would do it justice :D thanks

set pre-movie, canon divergence, in which i simply toss mikey at a problem to fix it

read on ao3

x

This same time last year, Mikey couldn’t wait to grow up. 

Because sometimes—only sometimes—he felt like he had something he needed to prove. 

It’s not that his family doesn’t believe in him. If anything, he thinks, from the lofty heights and newly acquired maturity of fourteen years old, they believe in him a little too much. Whatever he says he can accomplish, they give him room for—and if he can’t pull it off, they help him out and still afford him full credit. Mikey knows it’s just another way they spoil him, but it’s the least egregious manner in which they do, so he lets it slide. 

And it’s definitely not that he ever feels left out or left behind. Michelangelo and his brothers operate on a fulcrum that turns four ways as naturally as the needle on a compass, guided by gravity and the poles of the planet and something even more intrinsic and fundamental than all of that. 

Even when they’re fighting, when Mikey can’t be in the same room as Donnie without the Cain Instinct taking over or Leo goes full Mean Girls and has the cattiest-sounding Facetime with April about whichever one of them ticked him off, purposefully taking his call in the living room where they all could hear it, none of that ever lasts longer than a day. They burn bright and loud and hot, but they burn fast. Gravity keeps everything together. 

Come on, gravity, Mikey thinks, holding onto his temper very carefully. Do your thing. 

“I am not,” he says, for the billionth time in his life, “a baby.”

Raph looks a little nervous, which almost makes Mikey feel bad. But then he says, “That ankle’s sprained, big man. You shouldn’t walk on it.”

“Leo wrapped it up super well! I’ll be careful!” 

Their resident medic is smiling a little to himself, packing everything up again to his own meticulous organizational standards. (Only Donnie truly has his system figured out, but Mikey thinks that’s because they share a brain or soul or whatever.) It’s the full kit, too, Leo didn’t bother with the emergency supplies in his belt-bag and instead opened up a little dinner-plate-sized portal that he reached through to ransack their infirmary back home. 

Mikey wants to roll around on his shell in annoyance. It wasn’t even that bad!

“Sprains can be worse than breaks sometimes,” Leo remarks neutrally, as if he’s commenting on the weather. “Would you rather be careful now or laid up for a couple extra weeks?”

Raph seems grateful for the input, even though he doesn’t look at Leo and Leo doesn’t look up from his kit.

Ugh. “Ugh!” Mikey says out loud for good measure. “Then I can just walk on my hands!” 

It summons a wider smile from Leonardo, one of those crooked, pleasantly surprised ones. He’s so clever and thinks in circles around everyone else—not to be mean or tricky, just because his brain is as fast as Donnie’s and eats up seconds like a racecar around a Formula 1 track—that it’s fun to catch him off-guard with something totally out-of-pocket and watch that smile show up. 

“The whole way back to the Tank?” Raph says skeptically.

“You bet!” Mikey has warmed up to the idea now.

“This I have to see,” Donnie says, putting his phone away and folding his arms on Leo’s carapace. 

“I’ll have you know, Donald, that I walked on my hands for like two days once.” 

“Believe me, Michael, I remember. I was there.”

“You tried to make spaghetti for dinner with your feet,” Leo pipes up, and giggles when Donnie makes a gagging noise above him. He’s done packing his stuff up but he’s still sitting, probably because he likes the weight of his lazy twin leaning against his shell. 

Sensing no further help from that quarter, Raph says, “Mike—” but Mikey has already capitalized on his moment of indecision and flipped forward into a handstand. His foot actually does hurt a lot and his center of balance is a tiny bit skewed, but honestly he could do this for hours. He books it for the edge of the roof, putting something like a skip into his step just to make the twins laugh. There’s a shuffle and a cut-off noise that means the big worry-wart didn’t like it but puh-lease. Mikey’s safe as houses. 

It’s when he clambers up onto the parapet that he remembers the fire escape on this building is the kind with the rolling ladders, not the stairs. 

No one says anything behind him, letting him come to his own conclusion. Mikey would appreciate that except they’re only doing it because he’s the baby and they don’t want to upset him. 

Spinning around, the concrete scraping against his palms, Mikey aims an explosively unhappy frown at all three of them from upside-down.

“I could have done it,” he insists. 

“Of course you could have,” Raph is the first to say. “There’s not a doubt in my mind you could have walked to the moon on your hands if you wanted to. But you don’t have to walk while you’re hurt when Raph is here to carry you.”

He’s so earnest and sweet. It goes a long way in making Mikey forget why he was even annoyed to begin with. His brothers are lucky they’re so loveable! 

With a groan he tucks his head and shoulders and rolls forward, shell bumping playfully against the edge of the parapet, and comes right-side-up sitting criss-cross-applesauce.

“Fine,” he capitulates. “But only because Raphie thinks I could hand-walk to the moon.”

“And back,” Raph says, smiling down at him. Mikey lifts his arms to be scooped up and settled in his usual spot on Raph’s shoulder. 

If this was a year ago, Leo would have been right next to him, perched on Raph’s opposite shoulder and making silly jokes to make Mikey feel better. Leo loves to be carried. It was the one little brother thing his cool guy persona could never eclipse. The one thing Mikey was certain he wouldn’t outgrow no matter how old he got.

But instead of crossing the roof at a run to leap into Raph’s arms, always trusting the process, knowing they would open in time to catch him, Leo stays put. Maybe because Donnie is still resting his weight on him. But his expression is so transparently wistful and lonely for a split-second, even though his brothers are all right there, that it causes a pang of upset in Mikey’s heart. 

“Hey, Lee, room for one more,” he says, patting Raphie’s shoulder. 

Raph scoffs under his breath, which makes Mikey’s stomach do a surprised, uncomfy flip. Leo hears it, and his expression shutters so fast it’s almost unnatural, everything replaced by a wide, plastic smile. 

“Gotta get my steps in, Miguel,” he says, shoving his kit back through a portal and wiggling his shoulders so Donnie knows he’s about to stand up. “This figure doesn’t come free, you know.” 

He adds an imaginary hair-toss. Raph looks like he didn’t expect anything else. Mikey thinks he must not have seen that expression on Leo’s face. 

But it’s all Mikey can think about the entire drive home. That gulf between fourteen and fifteen where apparently everything changes. 

——

Something has been wrong for awhile now, ever since Pops made Leo the leader and turned their team inside out, but Mikey figured they were due for an adjustment period. Raph had a hard time letting go of responsibility and Leo had a hard time picking it up, but once they found their way back onto the same page everything would be okay. Gravity would keep them together. They didn’t know any other way to be. 

Except it’s been weeks and the arguing is only getting worse and it’s not even really that much fun to patrol anymore in the first place. Mikey usually loves going out at night with his brothers, finding bad guys to beat up and getting those ninja endorphins, but he’s sort of starting to feel about it the way kids in daytime television feel about homework. He just wants to get it over with.  

Tonight Leo is being a little silly. Flubbing jumps and slow to catch his cues. Once he even missed a sixteenth-story ledge and would have fallen—which was not funny at all and a bad joke to make—but Donnie’s arm shot out and caught him so smoothly that it had to have been planned. Like a trust fall! Or maybe twin telepathy actually is a thing and Donnie was just tricking them with all those printouts he handed around that one time to prove Leo wrong. Either way, Leo wasn’t actually in danger. 

Mikey loves silly Leo, and played right along into his antics, but maybe he shouldn’t have. Raph was ticked off and, by the time Leo missed that ledge, fed-up. He cut the evening short and told Leo to just portal them home. 

That’s when the wary little thing in the back of Mikey’s brain pokes its head up out of the ground. That’s when he realizes something was Wrong wrong. Capital wrong. 

Because Leo says, “Your wish is my command, my liege,” with the right amount of theater kid gusto, and that’s normal. He summons a pretty spinning blue portal as tall as Raph stood at the shoulder and hops through first, leaving Raph to make a hissing noise against his teeth and duck his head to follow, and that’s normal. Mikey glances over at Donnie, who doesn’t look up from where his snout is buried in his phone to wave Mikey ahead of him, and that’s normal, too.

It’s easy to take for granted how amazing Leo’s portals are. With two steps, Mikey walks off a cool rooftop in Brooklyn and into their warmly lit living room. He can hear Pops’ telenovelas from the projector room and smell the beef burgundy he’d left to simmer on the stove for dinner. 

And distracted as he is, listening to the familiar rising and falling cadence of Raph’s worn-out lecture about responsibility and watching the pretend-listening bob of Leo’s head, Mikey still sees it when the portal wobbles as Don steps through. 

Maybe it wouldn’t have seemed like a big deal, except Leo’s face goes white and his whole body stills, and the coloring of his stripes starts to tinge toward neon like his ninpo is about to light up. 

And that’s not normal at all. 

It was just a split-second of destabilization, and Donnie moves through it just fine, but Leo holds his breath and keeps the portal open until his twin is right beside him. 

“This is literally what I’m talking about,” Raph says, that worried wrinkle in his brow deeper than ever. “Leo please listen when I talk just this once. If you’re not paying attention someone could get hurt. What if the portal just then had—”

“Woah, did you hear that?” Leo says right over him, cupping a hand at the side of his head as if to listen for something. “There’s another super riveting lecture about everything I do wrong happening in my room. I’m gonna catch that one instead. Thanks for this, though.”

He slips away as easily as if he was part eel instead of turtle and books it out of the living room in a way that manages to look like a casual saunter instead of the full-steam retreat it actually is. 

Raph looks stunned at the blatant dismissal, and then hurt, and then it all boils together into something furious. He’s never actually angry with them. It’s just that he cares so, so much and sometimes he has nowhere to put it. Sometimes it becomes something too big for him to hold. 

Right in that moment, he seems ready to grab Leo and rattle him until he ran out of nonsense and had no choice but to listen. 

“I’ll handle this one, Raphala,” Donnie says abruptly. “I’m the one who almost got spliced, so I’m the one who gets to have the first opinion about it.”

Since the twins’ whole schtick is getting each other into and out of trouble with very little regard for anything else, Raph looks reasonably skeptical of him ‘handling’ it. But Don is already following Leo out of the room, and the potential of another argument is removed neatly by his exit. 

Raph deflates a little bit. He’s the biggest strongest person Mikey knows, but suddenly he looks small. 

“Hey, Raphie, wanna help me dish up dinner?” Mikey says, smiling up at him. Anxious to banish that uncharacteristic smallness with the full force of his own personality if that’s what it takes. “You take dad his plate and I’ll wrangle Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Lee.”

Raph smiles back at him, at least, and carefully carries two big servings of stew served over garlic mashed potatoes to the projector room. Pops will probably rope him into watching his shows and maybe Raph will actually take a minute to relax when it’s just him and dad and hearty comfort food and bad TV. 

Mikey ladles up two more bowls and takes a couple of individually-wrapped Gansito snack cakes out of his stash for good measure. It’s a sweet treat kind of night, he thinks. He’ll have to remember to get one for Raphie, too. 

Leo’s room is empty, and so is Donnie’s. Since Mikey doesn’t know where any of Leo’s secret hiding places are in their new lair, he only hesitates for a second before checking the lab. 

Oh, Mikey thinks, holding the tray in numb hands. Something is Wrong. 

The twins are both on the sofa that got shoved into the corner of the room as a compromise to Don’s occasional all-nighters, turtle-piled under a weighted blanket. Leo’s wearing noise-canceling headphones, using Don’s leathery carapace as a pillow. His mask is dangling from one sleep-loose hand, so the big dark circles under his eyes stand out on his pale face. 

Donnie’s still awake, tapping away on his phone. He doesn’t look up at the doorway that Mikey is standing in, but he does use one hand to sign a subtle, silent “no.” No talking? No company? Probably both. 

Swallowing hard, Mikey lifts the tray he’s holding up a little higher. That does get Don to look at him, and his second-oldest brother softens at whatever Mikey’s face must look like. He nods toward the desk, and signs, “Thanks, M. We’ll eat before it gets cold.” 

The only thing Mikey wants in the entire world at this moment is to crawl onto the sofa with them. He would probably get away with it, he doesn’t think there’s ever been a time in his entire life he wasn’t truly welcome in a turtle pile. But Donnie said no. And Leo looks so tired. 

He puts the tray on the desk, ninja-quiet, and leaves again without a whisper. 

His phone chimes in his pocket once he’s out the door, and he pulls it out to find a text from Don that says He’ll be okay, Angelo. He just needs to get some sleep. 

Leo’s relationship with sleep has always been hot-and-cold. Usually he’s pretty honest about it when it gets bad, in the sense that he lets them see how exhausted he is instead of hiding it behind a goofy, cocky exterior. 

Remembering that missed ledge from earlier tonight causes ice to form in Mikey’s stomach. That wasn’t a trust fall at all, was it?

Biting his lip, Mikey sends back, Would a visit from Dr. Feelings help?

The typing dots appear, but only for a second. The reply comes swiftly: Not this time. 

——

That night Mikey tosses and turns for an hour before finally pulling a move he hasn’t in ages and slinking over to Raph’s room. He lingers uncertainly in the open door, because he doesn’t know how little you have to be to be allowed to crawl into Raphie’s nest and let him hug the world all better. Mikey had thought that was a forever thing, but he can’t get Leo’s face on the rooftop out of his head. 

Raph is still awake, playing on his Switch, and notices the shadow that passes in front of the doorway instantly. He sets his game down and lifts one arm in automatic welcome and Mikey crosses the room at a run and slams into the embrace as if it’s an offer that might expire. 

And it might. Mikey had never really thought it would before. 

“Hey, big man,” Raph says, his voice a comforting rumble that rights all wrongs. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Mikey nods, and picks at a loose thread in the pink comforter, and then says, “Will you still carry me when I’m fifteen?”

“What? Of course I will.”

“What about sixteen?”

“You’re never gonna be too big for Raph to carry, Mike. I’ll always be the biggest, big enough to haul you bozos around whether you like it or not.”

Some frightened little creature inside Mikey’s chest loosens the grip it has on his heart with its teeth. But it doesn’t fully let go. And Mikey can’t help but ask, “What if we argue a lot and stop being friends?”

The idea of not being friends with his brother is enough on its own to make him want to burst into tears. He has no idea how Leo isn’t just constantly bawling. Then he remembers the circles under Leo’s eyes that don’t show when he’s wearing his mask and the way Donnie always follows him out of the room now. And he thinks it’s silly of him to forget that pain shows itself differently from one person to the next. 

Hurt chases understanding across Raph’s expression, and he squeezes Mikey a little tighter to his plastron. 

“I’ll love you no matter what, Angie. You and Leo and Don are forever for me, okay? If the world ends tomorrow, I’ll still be somewhere, loving my little brothers. It’s too big to just disappear.”

Mikey is fourteen years old and too old to be coddled anymore but not too old that he doesn’t trust in Raphael with his entire heart and then some. If Raph believes Mikey could walk to the moon and back, Mikey believes his biggest brother could lift up the whole sky and hold it for as long as he wanted to, if he wanted to.

Laying there under the warm pink blanket, with Raph’s twinkling nightlight in the corner and the sound of dad’s TV down the hall, Mikey thinks about things that last forever, things you can never outgrow—inside jokes between siblings, skilled hands wrapping sprained ankles, a door standing open in the dark in case you couldn’t sleep. 

Then he thinks about those looks on Raph’s and Leo’s faces when they thought no one was watching. How lonely they’ve both been without their best friend on their team. 

“Can you do me a favor tomorrow?” he asks before he can think better of it. “Scoop Leo.”

“Mikey…” Raph sighs, not wanting to say what Mikey already knows he’s thinking. That Leo would hate it, that it would cause another argument, that he doesn’t want to fight first thing tomorrow morning. He doesn’t want to fight at all. 

“Don’t—don’t do it like you’re mad,” Mikey adds quickly, heart thumping. “Like you caught him sneaking out or you need to keep him in one place so dad can check his stitches but he keeps slipping away like a buttered noodle. Do it like—like you missed him. Pretend he’s been gone for a long time and he just got home. And you’re happy to see him.”

Once Leo went away with April to an overnight camp. It was a nerd camp, he’d said gleefully, bright eyes scanning the brochure, and there was a chess league! April’s mom was a volunteer organizer and promised Splinter that it was a relatively small, local event, and that Leo would be safe. 

It was the longest the brothers had ever been apart before. Even though they texted and video called near-constantly, by the end of the week it had felt like they’d misplaced a limb somewhere. When Leo finally swanned into the lair he had bags of souvenirs for all of them and a hundred stories to tell and the first thing he did was drop everything and run straight into Raph’s open arms. The way he always does. The first thing he always does. 

Raph is looking at Mikey in the semi-dark with unreadable eyes. It takes a minute, seconds crawling by so slowly Mikey starts to worry Raph will say no. He builds up all these new fears, a subdivision development springing up where problems will live in rows of cookie-cutter houses and pay outrageous mortgages and never truly go away again. 

But then Raphie says, “Alright, Ange. But you’re dealing with the fallout.”

He sounds very tired, and a little like he’s just humoring someone who doesn’t know better, but a win is a win. 

The next day, when Leo is the last to wander into the kitchen even though he was probably the first one awake, and does that thing where he manages to not look a single person in the eye while otherwise acting totally normal, Raph frowns at him. 

Mikey can tell it’s concern. He thinks Leo expects it to be something else, and manages to find whatever he’s looking for even if it’s not really there.

But then Raphael glances over at Mikey, and Mikey holds out his arms and mimes a big scoop. Setting his jaw as though he’s about to go head-to-head with the Shredder again, Raph scoots his chair back from the table, rounds it, and then lifts Leo clean off his feet. 

Leo’s eyes are huge and he squirms like a hooked fish, but then Raph says, all bright and charming, “Look what the goat-man dragged in! How’d you sleep, champ?”

“Fine,” the slider says cautiously, slowing his escape attempts, but still looking like he half-expects this to be a trap. When Raph hums and nothing else happens, some little piece of his guard goes down and he adds, “Good. Slept, um, right through my alarm actually. Was worried I was gonna miss Chef Miguel’s magic.”

“Yeah? If you’re still feeling tired after breakfast, you should catch another nap. You know Raph worries.”

They’re each braced for the other to hurt their feelings. But being inside Raph’s arms when he wants to hold you is the best place in the whole world to be. Nothing bad exists and nothing has the power to make you feel small or ugly or scared. It’s just you and this big guy who loves you, who loves to carry you. 

For the first time in weeks, Leo’s plastic smile wobbles and slips. He blinks and his eyes get wet and he reaches up to sling his arms around his big brother’s neck. The way to get inside Leo’s head, past all the anxieties, past that constant guard, is to hold him and sound happy to see him. He wants so badly to be wanted. Mikey can’t understand how someone as smart as Leo doesn’t know that he already is. 

“I know,” Leo chokes out, “I’m sorry.”

Raph couldn’t have looked more stunned if someone had taken this moment to dump a bucket of ice water on his head. But in true Raph fashion, his arms tighten around his little brother automatically, readjusting their hold so that Leo is more secure. The shape of it transforms from quick hug into steadfast embrace. 

Mikey’s biggest brother, who could hold up the whole sky, will stand there and hold Leo together until the heat death of the universe, or until Leo lets go. 

“Hey,” Raph says gently, “how about we hit the arcade later, just the two of us? We’re overdue a jam session and I’ll bet there’s a karaoke machine with our names on it.” 

“As long as you promise not to attempt Mariah Carey, I’m down for anything, big guy.” Because Leo would follow Raph anywhere, has followed Raph everywhere, and they both seem to be remembering that in real time. 

It really must have thrown Leo’s world out of orbit to be the one pushed out in front and expected to lead, with no prior warning or discussion. A jam session is exactly what the two of them need.

“I’ll make French toast for breakfast, but only if we can agree on toppings,” Mikey pipes up from the kitchen, as casually as if his whole heart isn’t a painful, hopeful thing lodged in his throat.

“Raspberry jam,” Leo muffles from somewhere between Raph’s shell and shoulder, “or I’m rioting.”

Raspberry jam and cream cheese stuffed French toast is Raphael’s well-known, all-time favorite breakfast food. Raph shouldn’t be surprised that Leo knows that, so the surprise must come from somewhere else. The last couple of weeks of stress and hurt and frustration go sliding off his spiky shell like water, all replaced by relief. The worry and confusion are still there, but those weigh practically nothing in comparison. He smacks a noisy kiss on the top of Leo’s head, grinning brightly when Leo whines and starts half-heartedly trying to noodle away. 

“What’d I tell you?” Donnie says, from his sleepy stake-out in front of the Keurig. “Dr. Feelings is a smart guy, but he doesn’t hold a candle to the smartest guy I know. A Mikey makes everything better.”

Mikey beams at him, the kitchen warm and full and lively, Raph and Leo squabbling playfully by the table, his morning playlist belting out something folky and upbeat, gravity pulling everything back to where it belongs.  

Fifteen doesn’t feel so scary anymore. But maybe Mikey’s okay with taking the long way there, after all. 

[1d1195]

Traditional III

I think this is a little bit of a slow start for this series, and I apologize for that, I'm still kinda setting up some background pieces. I got a few big plans ahead here. I hope you like it. You can find the first two parts here: Traditional

Warnings: slight 18+ topics mentioned (like you have to squint to see them)

“Do...you expect...more from me?” She asked quietly. She didn’t meet his gaze as she asked. Harry saw the way her cheeks turned pink as she spoke.

"I would love t’do more with you of course. But m’not an animal. M’not going to make you.”

“You kind of pay me to do that though,” she reminded him still not fully looking at him.

"M’not gonna make you do anything you don’t want to. I just want to spoil you.”

Harry was quietly but almost assuredly in love. There were hundreds of reasons not to be. First and foremost, she was his intern. Maybe not his directly...but at his company, nonetheless. There were so many issues with falling in love with someone that was subordinate to him. But here he was. The second reason was of course that he wasn’t supposed to fall in love with someone he was paying money to for the arrangement agreed upon.

But how could he not? She was the most adorable thing he had ever laid eyes on. She was so kind and intelligent. The way her nerves seemed to amplify while she was at dinner with him versus the confidence she exuded when she shook his hand was unbelievably cute. He thought of all the things to be nervous about, it would be working at his company. But apparently, spending the evening with someone who already wanted to be in her presence was the kind of thing to get someone so cutely riled up.

The second he heard her voice say Styles Incorporated he was done for. He wanted it to be her last name—he didn’t care about how ridiculous the sentiment was. Hearing her say his last name sounded so perfect in her voice he practically melted. The moment he saw her in person was like trying to balance himself on a tightrope. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and never let her go. But he was the boss of the company she was interning for, so he had to pretend he was just meeting her. Like he didn’t just scour her interest profile and all social media looking at her cute little being.

Hey beautiful. What are you up to today? Do you want to come over? I make really good Ramen.

Oh, I’d really like that! She answered almost instantly. Harry smiled excitedly at the prospect of seeing the sweet girl in a few minutes. But...I’m building my furniture with Louis and Eleanor :(

Harry frowned. He didn’t want her to build her cheap furniture. He didn’t want her buying cheap furniture. But he wasn’t going to make her return everything she already bought...and he wasn’t going to make her skip out on her friends...as much as he wanted her to. Oh. Don’t you mean you and Eleanor? He remembered what she said good naturedly about her best friend.

No literally, lol. Yes. Me and Eleanor, you’re right. She sent a laughing emoji and Harry wished he could hear her laugh out loud. He loved her light little giggle that he got to enjoy at dinner the other night. He didn’t get to see her today at work, but he wished he did. It was why he was asking her if she wanted to come over now.

While he was reminiscing about her, he missed the three little dots signaling her second reply. We were going to order pizza...if you like pineapple on your pizza you CAN’T come over but if you like GOOD pizza, then you can come and entertain Eleanor and I if you’d like.

He thought her humor was easily one of his favorite qualities about her. Have you tried it love? It’s not that bad.

Here I was, starting to like you...I’m not ordering it.

He chuckled at her response. I won’t make you...I’ll be there in fifteen?

I’ll see you then :)

Harry wasn’t really one to worry about what to wear, but suddenly he had no idea. What do you wear to help your employee, but also love interest, but also companion that he found off the internet to help build cheap furniture? He decided on a pair of dark jeans, a T-shirt, and some trainers he had lying by the door of his home. It occurred to him he was meeting her best friends and he thought that maybe he should have put in a bit more effort. It was only their second time together outside of work. Nonetheless, he was very excited and really looking forward to seeing her in her element.

*

“Louis,” she begged.

“I just want to ask him how many millions he’s worth. I don’t know why that’s an issue.”

She looked at Eleanor pleadingly. “Lou,” she said gently and then smiled kindly.

“Oh alright,” he rolled his eyes. “I’ll behave. But I won’t like it.”

At that moment, her phone signaled she had a visitor waiting in the lobby. She didn’t know if it would be pizza or Harry, so she headed down with her wallet just in case.

As she descended the staircase the one floor, she seemed to have an epiphany that she was wearing a pair of leggings and a t-shirt she would typically wear to the spin class she went to once a year with Eleanor. She realized she was entirely underdressed to see someone as beautiful as Harry. More so someone that she was employed by—in more than one way. She doesn’t know what possessed her to invite Harry over to meet her friends and build furniture. But she did know. She knew because she already liked him so much.

“Wow, thanks, mate,” the man was stuffing the money into his pocket as Harry held the three pizza boxes in his hands. She imagined Harry must have given him a substantial tip. In her head, Harry probably didn’t walk around with any bill smaller than a fifty.

“Oh, Harry. You didn’t have to do that,” she said quickly hurrying over to the pizza guy and Harry. The delivery guy was someone that she had run into several times over the last few years since she loved this pizza place.

“Oh, hey lady,” he smirked at her. “Your boyfriend said he would pay. Figured it wasn’t an issue,” he shrugged. Her cheeks pinked at the word boyfriend directed at Harry and she bit her lip waiting for Harry to answer instead. She waved gently to the man exiting with the large tip and he winked at her over his shoulder. He gave her a thumbs up and she swore she could see him mouth the word upgrade.

“Not a problem, love,” he responded with an easy smile. “Just happened here at the same time.”

With pizza in hand, she awkwardly made her way back to the stairwell trying to calm her nerves. Especially since Louis never had a filter. Harry was professional and lovely. He paid her in more than one way, and he was about to meet her crazy best friends. She worried she was about to lose both sources of income in a matter of minutes. “Y’okay, kitten?” He asked quietly as she approached her door.

“Mhmm...” she hummed. “Nervous.”

He chuckled. “Don’t be,” he said it easily. “M’excited t’meet your friends.” Swallowing, she nodded and pushed the door open.

“How much do we owe you?” Louis called from the living room.

“Um...Harry paid, so you’d have to ask him,” she still sounded nervous as she kicked her flipflops off at the door and made her way through the little entry way.

“S’all set,” Harry said easily. Obviously. It was pizza, and he didn’t mind in the slightest paying for the four of them. He set the pizzas on the counter in the kitchen and turned to her friends spread about empty cardboard boxes and plastic bags. Her couch was pushed against the wall facing the TV and the new stand it sat upon. She had music playing softly in the background that echoed through the room from the TV. Eleanor was focused on the directions in front of her while Louis twirled the little wrench in his hand.

“Thanks, Harry,” Louis said and stood to hold his hand out. “Nice t’meet you. Heard a lot about you,” he smirked.

“Hi Harry,” Eleanor chirped leaving the directions to flutter back to the floor and gave him a hug. “Thanks for coming to help. Louis gets us distracted a lot.”

“Entertained,” he corrected. Harry chuckled.

“Looks like you’ve made a lot of progress,” he noted that the coffee table was also completed in addition to the TV stand.

“Miss Impatient over there couldn’t wait,” Louis said. “El and I are on dresser duty.”

“Shh,” she hushed as she was still putting out paper plates and getting some napkins to put beside the pizza. “The coffee table and TV stand were like three parts total.”

Harry chuckled. “Didn’t take you as impatient, love,” he said softly in her direction.

She ignored his comment. “Can I get you a drink?” She asked as if the conversation around her wasn’t happening.

“Oh, she hides it very well,” Louis told Harry.

“She’s not impatient Louis,” Eleanor rolled her eyes. “She’s independent.”

“Terrible really,” Louis murmured causing Harry to chuckle.

“Water is fine, kitten,” he finally responded as if he wasn’t causing the racing of her heart just by being there.

*

Louis and Eleanor left after two bookshelves, the dresser, and the night table were put together. Louis claimed exhaustion because he was old despite Eleanor and her doing most of the heavy lifting. After a grateful goodbye, she ushered them out the door, Eleanor whispering to call her later in her ear.

In her eyes, it was really starting to look and feel like home. Harry was extremely helpful and wasn’t irritated at all by the lifting or the tedious labor of putting together cheap furniture. Harry was in fact pushing the bookshelves into position. “Y’should really anchor this down,” he told her.

“Er...I don’t want to mess up the walls. They charge you a fortune for that when you move out,” she explained. Harry smirked at her knowingly.

“I’d like t’see them try.”

She snorted and pushed her boxes labeled books toward the shelves. “Sorry, I forgot,” she said. “You’re very...down to earth.”

“Thank you, love. I try t’be.” Harry was reading the titles of the books as he put them on her shelves. He thought you could learn a lot about a person based on what they read. She seemed to read a bit of everything which made sense. She appeared worldly and intelligent. Her choices ranged from psychological non-fiction to romantic novels set at Christmas time. There were several historical fiction books as well. “You read a lot?” He asked.

“I used to...” she shrugged. “I get really caught up in my schoolwork. When I have time in the summer, I can read two to three books a week but that’s only when I’m not stressed about other things.”

“I see.”

“Do you read?”

“Uh...a little here and there...but not too often. I should read more. I get very busy with the company and everything,” he explained.

“I’ve been trying to read for thirty minutes every day since...well...since I was staying with Louis and Eleanor. I turn my phone off and set a timer on the microwave and everything. Louis hated waiting for it to be over so we could watch our shows and stuff.”

“S’nice you have Louis and Eleanor,” Harry remarked. “I don’t know what I’d do without Niall.”

“They’ve been the best people in my life for so long,” she said with so much kindness, so much reverence for them, Harry felt his heart stutter just as a bystander for her love for the pair.

“How did you meet them?”

“Louis was my older brother’s best friend. Since before grade school. They did everything together. He’s like my own brother...and Eleanor has been in his life since they were in high school, she’s like an older sister to me, too.”

“Oh, s’nice. I didn’t know you had a brother.”

There was a pause. If Harry wasn’t so enthralled by her, he might have missed how brief the pause really was. But he watched her swallow as she broke the cardboard box down and set it to the side as she slid the next one in front of her to start placing more books on the shelf. Her eyebrows pinched together just slightly. “He died when I was in high school,” she murmured. “Louis and Eleanor haven’t left me alone since.”

Harry thought of his older sister Gemma. The thought of her dying was enough to break his heart. He was overcome with grief for the poor girl who just casually went on organizing her books. Harry wasn’t sure how she could remain upright. How she could continue living. Gemma was one of his best friends. The way she spoke about Louis and Eleanor with so much admiration...he could only imagine how much love she had for her biological brother. “Jesus,” he muttered under his breath. “M’so sorry, love,” he said quietly.

She nodded, swallowed hard again. She didn’t speak for a few minutes. Harry just let her put her books on the shelf and he silently watched her as it was clear the grief while manageable probably hurt a lot at times like this. Her eyes glistened a bit and she shook her head. “You have a sister, you said?” She asked eventually.

“Yeah, she’s older than me, too. Her name’s Gemma.”

She nodded. “You should call her and tell her you love her,” she said quietly. “Often,” she mumbled.

Harry thought he would cry. “I will,” he promised.

They were quiet for a bit of time until all the books were neatly displayed. She stood up and cracked her neck side to side and put her hands on her hips. “Thank you,” she said finally. He shook his head.

“Not a problem, love.”

He was looking at her like she might break down crying. “Can I ask you something?” She wondered.

“Of course.”

“Do...you expect...more from me?” She asked quietly. She didn’t meet his gaze as she asked. Harry saw the way her cheeks turned pink as she spoke. The change in subject seemed so rapid but Harry didn’t know much about the grief she was feeling. It may have been over five years since it happened, but he imagined that coping with it was something that was still so prominent in her life. He wished he dug deeper into her social media. Wished that he searched her name in obituary searches or asked about her family earlier. It seemed like an entirely vulnerable way to bring it up and now she was stuck with him in her apartment where she probably felt completely exposed.

Hence her question. Taking a deep breath Harry wanted to tell her he would love to make out with her like a horny college frat boy. And yes, he had thought of bending her over this cheap furniture at least ten times since he arrived. But Harry liked to believe he wasn’t like most men on the website he found her on; he would never make her do anything she didn’t want to. He wanted her to be comfortable around him. Especially since he was kind of falling madly in love with her with every passing second. “I don’t expect anything but for you t’be yourself, kitten,” he said softly. “If our...relationship heads that way, m’open to it, of course. You’re beautiful, intelligent, kind, and funny. I would love t’do more with you of course. But m’not an animal. M’not going to make you.”

“You kind of pay me to do that though,” she reminded him still not fully looking at him. Her eyes darted to the pile of flattened cardboard boxes, and he watched the way her fingers kind of shook as she reached for other scraps of plastic and Styrofoam to put in the trash pile.

Tilting his head at her, he reached out and placed a hand over hers, stilling the shakiness and gave her a squeeze. It felt like heaven just to hold her hand. Harry felt so lucky he found her before someone else did. “M’not gonna make you do anything you don’t want to. I just want to spoil you.”

“And help me build cheap furniture that you hate?” She asked with a smirk. She squeezed his hand back and Harry swore he could hear wedding bells in his head.

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t remind me,” he practically groaned. “I would’ve bought you real furniture.”

She grinned so cutely, wrinkling her nose at him. “I bought a real couch and bed.”

“A miracle, it seems,” he grumbled looking at the particle board that seemed to bend a bit with each book she placed on the last shelf.

*

Harry felt he was floating he sat in his office. Spending the evening with her, even just building furniture, furthered how smitten he was with the angel he happened to find on the Internet. Over the last month they hung out several more times, not doing much of anything of importance. Some nights they went out and Harry bought her fancy meals and drinks (and her favorite desserts). Other nights they watched a movie on her comfy, stable couch while Harry wondered if her TV stand was going to fall apart under the weight of her TV.

In the meantime, she didn’t see much of Harry while at work. Most of the time she was in Niall’s office tending to his needs and learning the ins and outs of his job. From what Niall said and what he could see, she was a natural, of course. She was brilliant. “If m’not careful, she might take my job,” Niall chuckled rubbing the back of his head. They were meeting in Harry’s office going over his latest spreadsheet that was so much more organized than the last five years of spreadsheets Niall ever provided. As anticipated, it was all thanks to her.

Harry smirked and rolled his eyes. “You would be so lucky,” he muttered.

“You like this one,” Niall noted. Harry avoided his friend’s eye contact as he looked through the papers on his desk.

Harry nodded. “She’s good,” he shrugged.

“The others were good,” Niall replied, knowingly.

“Are y’snooping as my employee or my friend?” He asked without looking up.

“Best friend,” he qualified.

Harry shrugged again and thought about the pretty girl just down the hall looking adorable and being her perfect self. He hadn’t told Niall yet. But he wanted to. His only hesitation was making her uncomfortable. He didn’t think Niall would say or do anything, but...the idea of betraying her trust or making her feel inadequate at work made him feel like it could be the most horrible thing in the world. “She gets me tea,” he smirked.

“Honestly, I was shocked you gave her company card on the first day,” he chuckled.

Harry felt his eyebrows knit close together. “What?” He said simply.

Niall was seated across from him casually and he glanced at Harry almost curiously. He shrugged. “The coffee and tea?” He asked.

“I thought you gave her a card.”

Niall blinked in surprise. “Uh...no,” he shook his head. “I didn’t give her anything.”

Harry felt irritated. The kind of irritation he felt when she tried to pay for dinner. Or when she bought cheap furniture. Or any time she thought she was inconveniencing him. There was a knock on the other side of Harry’s office at that moment. “Come in,” he called.

“Oh, speak of the angel,” Niall grinned brightly. Harry stared at her, coffee, tea in her hand. Smiling kindly as she entered, she set the tray of drinks on Harry’s desk, and he watched her every movement.

“Talking about me?” She asked quietly. “Doesn’t sound good.”

“All good things, darling,” he promised.

“How do you pay for our coffee?” Harry asked bluntly, quickly, ignoring Niall entirely. He was miffed. In over a month of being here she had probably spent at least a hundred dollars a week of her own money on coffee for the three of them. More, if she went on behalf of other people. Which she was apt to do if anyone asked while in the same room when she asked Niall if he wanted something.

“Harry,” he said quietly. “Stop,” Niall rolled his eyes.

“Uh...I pay for it,” she admitted.

Niall blinked. “You pay for it?” He asked.

“Um...yeah...I thought—”

“Darling, that’s probably cost you a small fortune...s’not sustainable.”

Technically it was Harry buying coffee. But that’s not what he gave her money for.

“Really, it’s okay. I have—”

Harry was already pulling a checkbook out of his top desk drawer. He wrote her name and made it out for a thousand dollars before sliding it to her. She blanched seeing the amount. Oh, she was going to get an earful later. She just knew it. “Let me know if you need more,” he said simply. “Niall, can you please go get her a company card?” Niall stood taking his drink from the tray and headed for the door. He knew when Harry meant business. Literally and figuratively. This was one of those times. He didn’t fully understand why Harry was all up in arms about this, but if he was going to write her a check for coffee, he wasn’t going to question his friend’s reasoning.

“Wait, Niall...,” she said hurriedly. Her cheeks were warming, and her heart rate felt aflutter...like when Harry picked her up from her apartment and held doors open for her. “I...I just set up a tab with the Starbucks across the street. They give us a discount because I go so often. I just tip them and pay at the end of each week...it’s not this much,” she said quickly handing the check back to Harry. A look passed between the two of them and Harry looked away briefly before Niall caught it. He didn’t want him to be suspicious...he would tell him. Niall was his best friend after all. But he couldn’t do it in the workplace. This was a private conversation for sure.

“You set up a tab?” Niall asked. Harry stared at her with so much...annoyance. She could feel his irritation seeping through the air, and she truly thought she was going to lose both her jobs for this. It was just coffee and she had already told Harry she didn’t need as much money as he gave her. Coffee was the least she could do. “Why didn’t we think of that?” Niall directed his question to Harry.

Harry didn’t know either. His agitation disintegrated by the second as he realized she was much more brilliant than he gave her credit for—even for something as simple and lovely as coffee. She didn’t make eye contact with anyone. It made her look like she was in trouble with a school principal. Her fingers fidgeted with the pockets of her skirt and Harry thought about how he wanted to kick Niall out of his office and how much he would love to rip the skirt off her so he could have her all to himself. She was too beautiful, too smart. He was grateful he was seated behind his desk hiding his lower half. “Don’t buy coffee for anyone here with your own money,” Harry told her.

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh stop,” Niall said shaking his head coming back to her. He put a hand on her arm and gave her a gentle squeeze. “‘Thank you, darling.’ Is what Harry meant.”

“Yes. Thank you. Don’t do it again.” Harry didn’t fully understand what was happening to him regarding this perfect girl. Never in his life did he anticipate finding a companion online, spoiling her rotten, and seemingly falling for her at the same time. So much so that he was jealous of Niall. He wanted to yank his best friend’s arm out of its socket solely for touching her arm.

Unfortunately, she saw the way his eyes connected with Niall’s hand on her arm. She was definitely going to get an earful tonight.

--

taglist: @tpwkstiles @matildasatellite @jessitpwk @jerseygirlinca

[myakikijackson]

A is for Apple but Also for...? Phonics - Coco Special Birthday Edition

The celebration continues after everyone has gone.

Coco, Reader

Readers 18+ Only Please.

Warnings: Language and sexual references. Aside from that it's mostly fluff.

“Babe,” you shout out as you finish throwing the last paper plate away.

“Do you want something from the kitchen?”

“Yeah, you.” Coco answered from the living room.

He was sprawled out on the couch watching TV. Some children’s show was playing. He always acted annoyed when it would come on but deep down it always brought him joy hearing the opening music. He’d never admit that though but he didn’t have to, you knew it. You smile as you make your way to him. You had told him he could watch anything he wanted to today. It was his day after all and this is what he chose. But it wasn’t the show he was watching, it was the person watching it that pulled at his heart strings and hearing her laugh and sing along was one of his favorite things to do.

He moved his feet to make room for you but as you take a seat next to him he reaches out and pulls you to him.

“I told you I’d help you clean up but you wouldn’t let me. Me corriste de la cocina like I offended you or something.” He said in a childishly exaggerated fake hurt tone with a fake pout to match.

He kissed your forehead as you snuggled into him. “Please, you know there was no way in hell I was going to let you do any work today. That’s why you even offered.”

A guilty smile crossed his face, “Yeah but I still offered. That's what counts, right.”

You look into his eyes like it’s the first time you’d seen them and in one quick moment you see everything in them. The past, how you first met, your first “sort of” date, everything the two of you had been through to get to this point. The journey was long and filled with ups and downs. More downs than ups and many were the times where you’d almost thrown in the towel, but you made it here somehow and you wouldn’t trade any of it.

“Happy birthday,” softly you say to the man who had forever changed your world.

“Thank you.” It was as if he could see it in your eyes, he knew exactly what you’d been thinking of.

“For not giving up on me.”

“A is for?” said the character on TV.

“Apple!” shouted an over excited little voice.

In your ear he whispers, “A is for anal.” You playful smack him in the chest.

“Can I have some?”

You laughed as you rolled your eyes and shook your head.

“But it’s my birthday.” He reminds you. “You said I could have anything I want.”

“Was that your birthday wish?”

He held you tighter as you shared a passionate kiss when you heard little footsteps hurriedly making their way to you. You could feel his smile against your own. Both of you turn to see this beautiful bundle of chaos in pigtails running towards the both of you, her ringlets bouncing all the way. She was a menace, a spoiled princess who if you let her get started was an unstoppable force and her father wouldn’t have it any other way. That was his angel even when she was being a devil. She was holding onto a piece of paper. You recognized it as soon as you’d seen it, it was a project she’d been working on all day.

“Cuddle party!” She shouted. Not wanting to be left out of the fun, she jumped onto the sofa with you and Coco.

“Happy birthday, daddy.” She shoved her masterpiece in his face. “I made it for you, daddy.”

You and Coco look at it and are both puzzled but she’s waiting for him to say something.

“For me?”

She nodded, “Yes, just for you.”

“Thank you, mija.”

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah,” he could feel you silently laughing against his body, your face buried in his neck trying to contain it. “It’s a beautiful.”

“Can you tell what it is? Can you, daddy?”

“Um- yeah it’s...uh…it’s-”

Her big beautiful brown eyes looked into his, filled with such pride in her artwork and so much love for her dad.

“Babe, what is this?” He whispered in your ear.

You couldn’t hold it back anymore and just let it go. Your little girl laughed with you, not knowing what you were laughing at but she wanted in on that.

You both smiled.

The three of you embraced in this cuddle party and watched TV like that until she fell asleep. It took a while to get out of that tangled mess as you both tried carefully not to wake her.

“I’ll put her in bed.” Coco mouthed. “You.” He motioned with his head to the bed the two of you shared with that devilish smile you’d long grown accustomed to. You knew full well what that smiled meant.

You quickly got out of your clothes and into the red lacy babydoll that you had purchased just for tonight.

“Babe, really, what the fuck is this?” Coco asked, drawing in hand, studying it closely. You stand right night to him and for a long while the two of you try to decipher the puzzle until he brought his lips so close to yours, you could feel his breathe as he said, “Thank you for giving her to me.”

“No. Thank you.” You take another glance at the picture as you take it in your hands before laying it on the dresser.

“Hmmm, but I think we should get her some art classes ‘cause I have no fuckin’ clue. It looks like a melted unicorn.”

“Nah, baby, it ain’t got no horn.”

“Well, then what’s that pointy thing?” You asked.

He turned to look at you. “I don’t-” it was the first time he’d taken in the full sight of you in that sexy red piece. It was his favorite color but you already knew that.

“Fuck.” He was all he said.

He ran his hands all over your body, kissing your neck, gently nibbling along down to your collarbone, making his way to your breasts when you stopped him.

“Oh, wait. I have a present for you.”

“Yeah, I know you do, baby.” He said huskily.

“No, I mean an actual present.”

“You already gave me my present earlier.” He said in between kisses.

“Yeah but I have one more for you.”

You pulled away from him to retrieve the small gift bag that rested next to your daughter’s art piece, forgotten for now.

Coco was a little annoyed at the absence of you in his arms and he didn’t protest quietly but he kept his eyes trained on you, watching every move you make, wondering what else you could have gotten him and why it couldn’t wait until after he got his real present.

“Here you go.”

He took the little bag and peeked in it. With that devilish smile plastered all over his face again he says, “Really?” as he pulls the bottle of astroglide out.

“Happy birthday.”

[spiralinghours]

“Personal Assistant” Pt 6

Fandom: Saw franchise

Characters/Pairing: Mark Hoffman x fem/afab reader

Rating: PG-13? For this part maybe?

Tags/Warnings: feeding kink, belly kink, chubby Hoffman (duh obviously), bratty behavior, banter, switchy behavior for both characters, animal name calling/terms (lotta bear and maybe some pig and/or cat endearments here), general adult language

Summary: It’s Hoffman’s birthday so his secretary takes him out (even if her motivation is pretty selfish).

Author’s Notes: Written as a light, little distraction, so please enjoy—hopefully it’s a nice little distraction for you too.

None of these installments really take place in any particular order, btw. They’re just little slices of life.

WAY MORE emphasis on the feedery stuff in this one. Just be warned (or be excited idk).

As usual, there might be grammatical and spelling errors that I’ll try and fix later.

Hoffman begrudgingly (though still tender and endeared towards you) let you drag him around downtown, settling at some nice though generic enough restaurant that you had made reservations at. He wasn’t a man super keen and enthused about celebrations and milestones, which was why he moved hesitantly along when you sprung it on him that you were taking him out for his birthday. It took some investigative work on your own, under his nose, but in a workplace where everything about everyone was on record, in print, it wasn’t hard to learn his birthdate.

“Cheer up, you big grumpy bear,” you chimed, guiding him towards the restaurant entrance with a hand on his back.

“You must really be sweet on me to go to this trouble. You know I don’t care about this kinda thing.”

“Don’t make it sound sappy,” you hushed him. “Secretaries do shit like this for their bosses. Keep them organized and on task and content. It may as well be part of my job.”

“I dunno, darlin’. There’s a lot you do for me that isn’t necessarily part of the job description.”

“So don’t let it go to your big head, because maybe that’s for me. Anyways, you better say thank you. You’re gonna love it here.” You bustled around hautily, feeling as though you should have clipped a leash to your boss to get him to haul his ass. (“He’d probably like that,” you noted.)

His stern features softened, taking a moment to cast a glance down at you warmly. “I know I will, babydoll. Maybe I’m humoring you because you went to so much trouble. And you look so pretty.” His look took a sassy slant as he looped a finger through a loose strand of hair hanging by your ear.

“Oh yeah yeah,” you rolled your eyes (one time of hundreds to come that night). You leaned your head away, strand of hair untangling from his finger. “You’re humoring me? You act like you’re not excited to eat.”

“I think you’re the one excited that I’m gonna be eating,” he grinned in that smug feline way. He made a demonstration of grazing a hand over his softened belly, which you smacked lightly.

You took hold of his necktie (a nicer heather purple one you had picked out and left in his office that morning, almost as a threatening reminder of the occasion) and yanked it lightly, bringing his face down towards yours. “We can turn around and leave. Because you don’t sound so excited to have a nice dinner, birthday boy.” You sliced in the moniker like a cutting insult.

Hoffman enclosed his large hands around yours, still encircling his tie. “This is very sweet of you, and I would love nothing more than to have my very beautiful—and very hard ass—assistant spoil me and shove cake in my mouth for dessert.”

Your eyes lit up. “I’ll shove cake in your mouth if you’re good and finish all your food. All of it.”

“Whatever you want, honey. I’m on my best behavior tonight.”

You loosened your hand from his tie, letting your fingertips drift down his chest. “I’m gonna roll you outta here when we’re done,” you whispered, voice a little rough on the edges with excitement. But it was so goofy you had to giggle.

“That’s kinky, baby. I wish you would.” He gave you that snarky grin once again and let you drag him through the foyer by his jacket lapel.

—

You had sort of glazed over what all Hoffman had eaten, even though he let you order each course for him. The only vague reminders were the remaining dishes with crumbles of sausage and sauce, or some coated in chimichurri and bloody steak juices. A lot of meat and pasta for a big guy, you justified.

More attention was paid to how worn Hoffman was looking, and how he had adjusted his pants as he finished off each dish. You had noticed at two separate points his hands roamed downwards to undo some buttons; the first time was the lowest button on his shirt, which tucked uncomfortably tight under the curve of his belly; the second time was the main button on his pants, which would have been straining more obviously if not for his belt and suspenders keeping him strapped into his clothes.

You peeked under the table to confirm which buttons and other clasps had come undone. Grinning, you reached your high heel across the booth to toe at his gut teasingly.

You could see him wince slightly as he gripped your ankle and started massaging your calf—all an attempt to stop poking at his overfull belly.

“Please, baby, none of that now,” he pleaded softly, tiredly. He was so cute and pathetic with his sleepy blue eyes and his muffled little burps, all the while still tending to rubbing your leg (as if it wasn’t his own birthday that he should have been pampered on).

“So no cake?” you pried, eyebrows raised.

He looked at you somewhat defeated—all typical traces of sarcasm and cockiness dulled down (but never completely gone). “Can we take it to go? I think I need to lay down.”

“Of course, Hoffy-Bear. I’ll be nice about it since it’s your birthday. I guess.” You blepped your tongue out at him before gesturing towards the server for a little to-go cake and the check (on Hoffman’s card of course).

Once those final details had been squared away, you took your time getting up from the booth, savoring the way your boss heaved himself to his feet. The way he pulled himself up and out from the cushy red seating was such a feat, looking heavy and laborious. He hadn’t bothered fastening back up the two loosened buttons, but instead did the whole maneuver of hoisting his belt and waistband up with a small grunt.

He wasn’t the type to let on that he was struggling—at least not in public—and so kept his whining and wincing under his breath… Though his shallow breathing was hard to mask. Especially with the foolish attempts to suck in his gut, which barely moved with his inhale, so it rounded out burdensomely in front of him. Being so stuffed and moving so cautiously only emphasized the distinct waddle in his gait.

“Need help?” you couldn’t help but pipe up, spikes and lace all in your tone. As you stood, you placed one hand on his lower back—as you had when you all had entered—but the other secured firmly to his stomach, all solid and warm.

“Thought you were gonna be nice,” he grumbled at you.

You just giggled, guiding him out with slow, steady steps.

—

“Comfy, sir?” you inquired in an overly-babying tone.

You two had hauled it back to your apartment (Hoffman was seldom big on having you over at his, blaming the lack of comfort or too much mess) where you had let your boss settle back onto your bed. Lacey, silky trimmings fluttered around him as he took in the comfort of all your pillows under his back and head.

He didn’t quite answer, though he looked to be on the brink of sleep: eyes shading down lower than usual, blue irises glassy. A fragile “Mmmm” left his lips.

“Too tired for that birthday cake?” you prodded.

“Ugh… I guess not. Not if you promise to be sweet on me if I eat it.”

“Of course, Hoffy. Anyways, you gotta blow out your candle and make a wish.”

He nodded incoherently, allowing you the moment to retrieve the cake in the kitchen and plate it up with a single lit candle.

When you returned, seating yourself within the little room his lap allowed, he had groggily repositioned himself so that his suspenders were undone and slack at his sides, with one hand enveloped beneath his undershirt, and the other clutching one of your stuffed animals in the cleft between his chest and his tummy. It was too adorable. If he was more awake to catch you gawking he would’ve barbed something smart off at you. But he was so damn tired.

“Okay make a wish,” you instructed, cake held out in front of his face.

“Not even gonna sing to me, huh?”

“Do you really want me to?”

You exchanged shit-giving glances before he blew out the little flame. You immediately scooped a heaping bite of Devil’s Food onto the fork and poised it before his lips, your other hand gingerly propping his chin up.

Without question, he slid his mouth over the fork, pinkened thick lips becoming slick with frosting and saliva.

The motion repeated in silence, save for some quiet groans and hiccups on his part. The thing was, the slice was bigger than typical—really meant to serve two to four people.

“Such a good boy for finishing all that,” you cooed with a slight edge of condescending playfulness. “Whatta big bear.” You set the plate aside and gave his belly a light but firm pat. Other than the very obvious visual evidence, you could feel how stuffed he was in how his gut barely had any give to the touch, under that black, stiff, starched fabric. Only a solid wobble as he shifted around and breathed.

“Ugh, I feel like going into hibernation. You don’t need to coddle me like that,” he snipped, too incapacitated to sound threatening.

“Maybe I wanna. Whatcha gonna do about it?”

“Nothing I guess. Too full of cake… Which is entirely your fault.”

You were about to sass him for such choice words, when you decided to indulge in the situation instead. You spread your fingers over his broad sides, brushing up against the dips of his love handles, and raked your touch in a deep massage.

Hoffman squirmed slightly, a tiny frustrated grunt bumbling from his lips. “Knew it.”

“What?” you feigned offense, not relenting at your soft, slow presses into his bulk.

“This wasn’t for my birthday, this was so you could get me all fat and sleepy and play with me like I’m some kinda toy.”

“Aren’t you? My big stuffed bear,” you laughed lightly.

It was his turn to roll his eyes at you. Nonetheless he reached a hand over one of yours, guiding your smaller palm around his gut. “Right there… Ah… Yes. Like that. A little softer, please.”

“Usually I’d give you shit for trying to micromanage me, but I did promise to be nice.”

“That’s right.” Hoffman pinched your chin with his free hand.

You undid the rest of his shirt buttons, looking over how the tight white shirt underneath had rolled up over the curve of his stomach.

“I know it’s not typical,” he went on, “but would it be so bad if I fell asleep here tonight? I’m fucking exhausted.”

“You don’t have to work tomorrow?”

“I made a point to take tomorrow off. So if I’m not at work, neither are you.”

“I can’t argue with that,” you murmured, roaming your hands up to his face, pushing away the unkempt curtain of black hair that had previously been slicked back. “Well, I’ll be sure to get up early anyways. Gotta make you a decent breakfast.”

[one-strugling-bean]

So.

I finished the 4th season (MAG #160)

......I'm unwell

(part 3 of my Magnus Archives experience)

Ahhhhh where do i even start???? Ok, ok I think I'll start with the lesser things

First off, right off the bat, RIP Tim. More than ever, now I know he didn't have to die and I am so so sad he did..... Flirty boi deserved so much better u^u

Martin collected many moments of badassery throughout the 3rd and 4th seasons. Im so proud of his growth. Not him burning statements and snipping back at Elias - ahhhhhh he was so coooool, I wish someone else was there so that they could tell him! And when he made Fairchild sit back down to finish answering Martin's questions, I swear I got chills!!

Anyway. I continue being a fierce Martin fan, nothing new there

What is new is my newfound adoration for Daisy. Seriously. She's my baby now. Idc what happens or who dies, she needs to end this story okay :'))))

No, im 200% serious, if Daisy doesn't survive to the end, im def going to cry. Because i can totally see her being the "sacrifice herself so that everyone else will have a chance" type.

I swear she was the only one holding the brain cell power this season –  and FINALLY, someone who's not Martin is not being a bitch to Jon!!!

I wasn’t even expecting Jon to be able to bring her back. Much less for them to become supportive avatar besties! I’m so glad the writer decided to take that turn with her. It’s really satisfying from a narrative standpoint to have Daisy of all people do a whole 180 on her standpoint with Jon.

Idk, i just really liked her this season. She deserves all the hugs. So she gets a meme :)

Basira, on the other hand, fell a bit for me, but i think that was kind of the point. She was fierce and stony and nearly zero compassionate, – very Gertrude-ish of her –  but after everything that’s happened, i can't really blame her :/

Im just here praying to everything that the cop ladies can get a modicum of a happy ending

And just so I round up the gang, im scared for Melanie... She is now blind and also has (had?) a monster as a therapist. And Georgie doesn't feel fear which makes them even less likely to sense danger if it comes for them. I hope they're able to push through whatever season 5 throws at them

Okay. So only Jon is lef now. What can i say about him tho?? I mean, i can say he's been going through it.

Like, I spent my whole time hearing this podcast lowkey making fun of him for collecting beatdowns from pretty much every character - AND IT TURNS OUT IT WASN’T EXACTLY JOKING MATTER AND WAS ACTUALLY PLOT RELEVANT??

WHAT IS THIS SORCERY AND WHY IS IT MAKING ME FEEL BAD FOR VOICES ON MY PHONE??

I just feel so bad for Jon. The guy did not deserve all of this. He really was a lamb to the slaughter—a poor wet cat, an eternal damsel in distress, the Antichrist…?

That last statement from Elias/Jonah is so good tho. Like, objectively. I love it. Not only does it take the listener in a nice little trip down memory lane - nostalgia is always fun - but its also just. So evil.

They really gave us such a sweet start – Martin and Jon bunking together in a cabin in Scotland(?) seemingly happy and it's all "uwu, they sho cute, yada yada- and then BAM!! APOCALYPSE HAS BEGUN!"

(i could literally be here for hours coming up with titles for Jon. he makes it too easy.)

Elias though...... I was spoiled that he was Jonah Magnus halfway through season 2 or so, so the reveal wasn't a big deal for me. I wonder how shattering it was for listeners when it first dropped though... At least he upped his villainy cred this season. Suits him better than the "unbothered neutral/evil stand-by" vibe he gave before.

And one last character thing, I fell in love with Peter so quickly. His lines were all gold and his delivery even more so. He just had that unflappable vibe to him. Like he didnt have a care in the world.

Oh, and him and Elias totally had ex-wives who spent the last 10 years fighting about who gets what in the divorce energy.

No, i will not elaborate.

Uhhhhh yeah. I grew to appreciate Helen more and more every time they showed up. Simon Fairchild was surprisingly fun for an old man, Gerry deserved the freaking world (thank you so much Jon for burning that page) and i think that’s kinda it on my favorite “creatures and associates”

Im super excited for this last stretch. i wonder if TMA will stick the landing. I sure hope it does, and honestly trust it will.

Anywayyyyyy, off i go for those last 40 episodes. Wish me luck!

Finish testimony, or whatever

[cuddlepilefics]

Baby bat

Prompts: @cozytober

24 carving pumpkins, decorating for halloween

Alt 4 “Thanks for putting up with me."

Fandom: Stray Kids

Little: Felix

Caregivers: Stray Kids

No one’s POV.:

Felix was always easily excitable for any seasonal events and even more so when he was in littlespace. Luckily, the members knew about this side of him and loved little Lixxie just as much. As soon as stores started to sell fall-themed drinks, Hyunjin had made it a habit to pick up a special coffee for his dongsaeng on his way to work. Seungmin didn’t mind the Aussie’s scented candles at their shared apartment and even helped to add to their shared candle collection, making their place even cozier. There was one thing Felix hadn’t dared to ask yet though.

Some of his friends had already made plans to go to a Halloween party but Felix had a different idea. He had never spent Halloween in his headspace before but it sounded like a fun experience, so he really wished that some of his caregivers would agree to spend it with his little-self but he didn’t want to keep anyone from attending the parties they had been invited to. One evening, Felix approached Seungmin during dinner and hesitantly asked: “Would you mind if I decorate for Halloween? If it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll limit it to my room only but I think it’d be fun.” – “Sure, go ahead. If you want, we can decorate together. Do you have decorations or should we buy some?”, the vocalist chuckled.

Felix didn’t have any decorations yet, so he shared his pinterest board with Seungmin. They agreed on some of the decorations and also showed them to Hyunjin, who agreed to craft some with little Lixxie the next time they’d get a day off. The older was always looking for fun activities to entertain Felix with when he was small, so this was the perfect opportunity. Chan eventually inquired about the boy’s plans for Halloween and immediately promised he’d take care of him if he decided to slip. Predictably, Felix was over the moon when he learned that he’d actually get to experience Halloween in his headspace. Seungmin too was on board and secretly conspired with Chan to have a little Halloween party at their place, partly to show off the amazing décor Hyunjin and Felix had crafted.

Minho and Jisung already had plans for a date at a haunted house and a special dinner, so they sadly had to turn down the invitation but they took Felix costume shopping a week before Halloween. The Aussie wasn’t entirely little during their outing but he wasn’t entirely big either, giddily swinging their arms as he walked between the two of them. He was so excited about the new bat costume, Jisung had helped him pick, that he didn’t even notice Minho sneaking something else into their shopping basket. Not wanting to spoil the surprise, Minho gave the other treat to Chan to give to Felix on Halloween.

Changbin and Jeongin would be going to a costume party during the late evening but wanted to spend as much of the day with little Lixxie as possible beforehand. As soon as Chan had bundled the little up in a thick coat with a scarf and beanie, Changbin took him to a pumpkin patch to pick out pumpkins for him and Jeongin to carve. Felix obviously chose the biggest and roundest pumpkins, which he was completely unable to move off the ground. Laughing at his dongsaeng’s predicament, Changbin carried the pumpkins to the car and praised the little for his pick before buckling him into his seat.

He also helped Chan clean the dirt off the pumpkins, while Jeongin took Lixxie to put on his costume. The little could barely sit still while Jeongin put on his makeup for him and was disappointed when his caregiver insisted they needed to wait with putting his wings on till they were done carving the pumpkins, so they wouldn’t get dirty. The disappointment was soon forgotten though, when they joined their hyungs in the kitchen. Chan and Changbin had already set everything up for their dongsaengs and made sure to stay close by to supervise, not entirely happy with little Lixxie wielding such sharp knives.

Once the pair had successfully removed the seeds from their pumpkins, Changbin set about roasting them with some salt, while Chan assisted Felix, afraid the little would hurt himself. Felix didn’t mind, he was a bit nervous around all kinds of sharp kitchen utensils but he was very clear about how he wanted his pumpkin to look and could even show Chan reference pictures. The leader did his best to match his dongsaeng’s ideas as closely as possible, sweating slightly from the pressure. He wouldn’t have had to worry though because with the way Felix adored him, anything he did would be perfect in the little’s eyes.

Seungmin had already a spice-scented candle, so the apartment was slowly filling with a cozy scent that matched well with the roasted nutty aroma from the pumpkin seeds. Soon, Changbin and Jeongin had to get ready though, so Seungmin helped Felix put on his bat wings and Hyunjin helped him fix his makeup, that had gotten smeared during the hard labor of instructing Chan how to carve his pumpkin. “Lixxie, I got a little treat from Minho and Jisung for you”, Chan announced when Hyunjin carried their baby bat to the living room. The leader had his hands hidden behind his back and Felix giddily wriggled out of Hyunjin’s hold, waddling up to the eldest.

Giving Chan his most adorable puppy pout, Felix squealed when the leader brought his hands to the front and showed him a candy pacifier, decorated with fangs. Chan slipped the treat between his dongsaeng’s lips and cooed: “Now your costume’s complete. You look so adorable.” – “Lixxie nuh ‘dowable. I ish scawy”, the little slurred behind his paci before giggling at the sweet taste. “Alright, you scary baby bat”, Chan laughed, “It’s getting dark out, so how about we light a candle in your pumpkin, so Changbin and Jeongin can see it before they have to leave?” – “Hyungies nuh go”, Felix whined but followed Chan.

When Changbin and Jeongin bid their goodbyes after taking a few pictures with Felix in their costumes, the little clung to Changbin, wrapping his bat wings tightly around the older. He was even more heartbroken when Hyunjin and Seungmin weren’t back yet and him and Chan were alone all of a sudden. Sure, having one caregiver with him was already more than he had expected a few weeks ago but he wasn’t in his headspace a few weeks ago. Whenever he was little, he really depended on affection, so the more caregivers were present and ready to fawn over him, the better.

Hyunjin and Seungmin didn’t take too long though and by the time Chan had Felix picking out a movie he wanted to watch with them later tonight, they returned with steaming takeout boxes and called the Aussie’s for dinner. Seungmin pulled Felix into his lap and plucked the paci from his lips, so he could feed him. They had picked a few different kinds of savory pancakes and let the little try some of each, so he could figure out which he liked best. Not wanting him to go into a sugar rush already, Hyunjin sliced a persimmon for dessert and placed it on a plastic plate.

Felix happily munched on his fruit, leaning against Seungmin’s chest while Chan and Hyunjin cleared the table. When they were done, Hyunjin took the boy to clean up because his hands and face had gotten sticky and they didn’t want him to get the mess on his costume. All the while, Felix happily rambled on about the movie they were going to watch. Not that Hyunjin understood a word, the little’s speech too slurred behind his paci.

When Hyunjin placed his dongsaeng down on the couch, Felix insisted on throwing his legs over the back of the couch and let his head dangle, so he could look at the TV from a different perspective. “Don’t you wanna turn around, Lixxie?”, Chan cooed as he watched the boy’s face redden. Shaking his head, Felix reminded: “’m bat.” – “I know, but not even a bat can eat head down”, Seungmin chuckled, placing two bowls on the coffee table, “Look, we got roasted pumpkin seeds and gummy worms.” That was all Felix needed to know to sit down properly on the couch.

“Wan’ lap”, Felix pouted, scooting closer to Chan, who didn’t hesitate to pull the boy into his lap. Hyunjin brought his dongsaeng’s sippy cup filled with cherry juice and announced: “Hey baby bat, I got you some blood to quench your thirst.” Clapping his hands, Felix clapped his hands before reaching for his sippy cup. “Careful Lixxie, you don’t want to have to interrupt your movie to take a bath or change your clothes”, Chan warned, taking the sippy. He gently tipped it against the impatient boy’s lips and smiled when the younger eagerly suckled.

Chan and Hyunjin slept over that night, partly because Chan had already fallen asleep under Felix before the movie had ended and partly because they didn’t want to sneak out on him while he was regressed. None of them expected the little cauldron-shaped candy baskets, the boy had hidden in their rooms with a neatly written note: Thanks for putting up with me.

[minkkumaz]

CIRCLES

changbin was a romantic, and he wanted nothing more in the world than to run away with your hand perfectly fit into his. if not forever, for a little while. he just wanted to show you how much you were worth.

PIERCE THE VEIL series

PAIRING seo changbin x gn!reader WC 1.0k TAGS established relationship trope. hurt/comfort. reader has implied body issues. insecurities. kissing. OMI NOTE this is the final part of the series! it was a struggle getting this one out because characterizing changbin is really hard for me for some reason? i had to read so many bin fics to kind of get a clear picture and in all honestly i'm still not super proud of it. despite that, this series as a whole has been a journey, so ty to everyone who tuned in !?!?!

it was the little things that changbin would always do for you. over time it became extremely obvious that acts of service were one of his favorite love languages. nothing mattered to him as long as you were a happy and spoiled significant other, and words could never begin to explain how grateful you were. 

he was extremely true to ‘go big or go home,’ taking you on dates to fancy restaurants, big viewing spots with the most gorgeous sunsets, or just whispering sweet words into your ear during a movie night in his apartment. 

even when things weren’t perfect, and you didn’t feel deserving of the love he gave you, he was always there to treat you. it was almost like you couldn’t escape him.

maybe that was the beauty of it all, having someone to keep you steady when you felt yourself falling. having someone to care for you when you didn’t feel worthy enough. someone so willing to grant the world at your feet.

you practically felt your heartbeat in your ears, pounding loud enough to drown out any sound. the built up anxiety in your stomach, an unknown void of creatures in the back of your mind convincing you that you weren’t good enough. despite being able to subside it for just a little while, it always came reeling back. 

a victim in your own mind, trapped in the idea that you had more flaws than you can count. on the outside it seemed like nothing, but inside it was everything. squeezing at your skin in the mirror, flesh raw from trying to move it around to your liking. 

this was a battle between you and yourself, but there wasn’t a clear winner. you never won, and it killed you. it felt impossible to be slightly comparable, a goal that rot in your head. what else were you supposed to do when you were displayed on someones arm, but none of his fans seemed to think you quite fit? 

but he always heard your cries.

coming home to a quiet apartment, the only sound being muffled sobs from your shared bedroom. he immediately rushed to find you, the feeling of worry drowning him suddenly. when he opened the door, you turned to look at him with such a heartbreaking expression.

“binnie..” you sniff as he scrambles to get his arms around you in an embrace.

“baby.. i’m here. i’m here. tell me what’s on your mind” he coos, caging around your fragile body.

“this is so unfair.” you cry into his chest.

“i know baby, just take deep breaths.” he guides you, rubbing circles into your back, “you’re so perfect, y/n. your face, body, and everything else inside.”

“but people always say–”

“it doesn’t matter what people say. who are they to say what’s good for me? you’re good for me.”

“i just wish i could run away from everyone. with you” you say, though it comes out more like a beg.

“then let’s run away.” he responded with no hesitation.

“binnie,” you move your head from his chest, looking at him with glossy eyes, “that’s impossible– you have a job and so much here.”

“shh, don’t worry about that. if not forever, at least for a little while okay? let me take you somewhere.”  he cupping your cheeks gently.

“where?” “wherever you want to, i just want to help you get away for a bit.” 

“okay.” you whisper hesitantly, the crack in your voice sending a spike through his heart.

“take binnie’s sweater, i know you like it when it smells like me.” he smiles, pulling a sweat shirt off his head and over yours. 

warmth floods you, a familiar scent wafting through your nose. when the hood peeks over your head, you were met with your loving boyfriend once again. he took your hand and led you to the door, letting you stop for a moment to slide your shoes on.

and while you weren’t exactly sure where he was taking you, it felt right. his hand wrapped in yours, making your thoughts a little less loud. 

changbin walked you to a park, somewhere the both of you liked to stroll though during the day when the sun was still beaming; but never at night. the calm atmosphere surrounded the two of you, the temperature was cold but not freezing.

“i’m sorry that you had to walk into that bin.. i was just having trouble.” you mumble, looking down at your feet.

“hey, don’t say that. i understand that you have your troubles sometimes.i love you and i’ll never leave your side.” he squeezes your hand. 

“i love you too. it just gets so– so crazy in my head sometimes. and listening to all these things people are saying makes it so much worse, because you’re so so perfect. i feel so stuck in my own skin.”

“no fan of mine knows you the way i do, y/n. do they know how absolutely ethereal you look in the morning? do they know how much of an effort you make to come to the gym with me even though you hate workout out? never in my life have i ever found someone as special as you, and this goes so much beyond your looks.” he tells you, taking a deep breath after he got all his words out.

“gosh, you’re gonna make me cry again.” you choke, feeling overwhelmed with so much emotion.

“you don’t have anything to worry about, just don’t ever look back. there’s nowhere to go, nothing to worry about, when it��s just us.” he walks in front of you, taking your head in his hands to angle a kiss on your head.

“do you promise me?”

“promise.” he wipes a finger under your eye to dry your tears, before leaning in to catch your puffy lips in a kiss.

and with his lips on yours, everything disappears for a couple seconds. it will take so much time before these thoughts can truly leave you. but as long as he held you in his arms, you could forget about it for a short moment.

you knew you’d make it eventually.

© 2023 minkkumaz, all rights reserved support your writers by reblogging + giving feedback! it is greatly encouraged and appreciated. thank you! → why feedback + reblogging is so important. ~ (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ if you'd like, donate to minkkumaz !

PIERCE THE VEIL series

[planet-crait]

A New Dev-elopement is next and I’m super excited! It sucks getting attached to Dev with kind of knowing what happens but also I hope for a season two to keep developing him.

Do these kids not normally get homework over the weekend? Lucky. Also a treasure hunt sounds fun! Not sure how that’s homework and what it’s teaching? Maybe the history of the city? Maybe? Or the clues are word problems they have to solve? Well we’ll see what they come up with for it. Kind of hilarious how blatantly everyone hurls paper at Mr. Guzman for that though.

How does the school afford tickets to the water park as prizes? Aww poor kids they’re so devastated that they’re going to be randomly paired. Ohh the heartbreak. I mean. I can’t necessarily relate I uh never had friends in my classes.

Anyways I get Mr. Guzman wants to get the kids to make new friends but I also get the pain especially for a big weekend thing. Oh no. Oh no Hazel when will you learn not to use the word Wish unless you mean it? Wanda’s horrified look was pretty funny though. But oh Hazel may or may not regret that wish I know she’s going to be paired with Dev now.

Lolz Dev and Hazels mini fight is funny but Mr. Guzman should break them up. Hazel you really don’t see why this happened? I think I’ve given up on the questioning Hazel blatantly talking to them it just. Is going to keep being yadda yaddad past. To be fair Hazel you said I wish. You can only blame yourself.

Ohh poor Dev. He can’t even play his game which has music that isn’t very loud at all. Like oof his dad blatantly says his work is a priority over Dev which. Is not an easy pill to swallow. I realize we’re not supposed to like him but he is literally a ten year old being emotionally abused at a minimum by his only parental figure in his life I will always struggle to hold any grudges against literal children especially abused ones okay sue me. (I mean good luck you’ll get like a sandwich and two pencils).

Why am I not surprised Dev wants to ditch a school activity? He seems to believe money will get him anything he wants and well…I can’t argue with the logic as fucked up as that is. I mean it’s wrong morally but it’s not incorrect because capitalism ruins everything.

Ohh so Hazel and Dev have a common book and Game in common? They seem like they could get along really well if Dev wasn’t so spoiled. But ohhh Dev does get the clues right lolz.

I just realized though making ten year plans old walk all over the city by themselves feels kind of cruel. They’re ten and it’s a big city. Also does each pair have their own clues? Like Hazel and Dev keep the post it notes how will the next pair find the next clue unless they’re all different?

Aww Dev and Hazel are having a moment that’s so cute honestly. They get it at the same time and have a little air guitar duet and are laughing. But ohhh the moment has to end. Not surprising I can imagine opening up is not easy for Dev given the glimpses of his home life we got.

He’s starting to smile though that’s progress! Oh OH! He takes off his glasses when he’s finally ready to make a connection (High giving someone) I thought maybe the glasses where like a mask for him and he takes them off when he’s ready to lower the mask and maybe let someone in. Poor kids though fail the high five and face plant hard.

Oh he didn’t put them back on and they laughed despite that oh that’s so cute. I wonder if the pizza stuff did a lot of heavy lifting for getting Dev to be willing to open up to Hazel? That would make sense honestly especially if he’s as starved for affection as I imagine he is.

Seeing him so genuinely smiling is so sweet and cute it makes my heart melt honestly. OHHH HE CALLED HER HAZEL AND NOT ANOTHER NAME!!!! They’re laughing and joking it’s so cute. Aww Hazel is praising Dev to his dad it’s so dang sweet. Oh. Oh no. Dale is brushing it off I hope Dev doesn’t shut down after this.

Oh no he did shut down. Oh poor kid. I feel so bad for him he was so happy and smiling and eager to introduce Hazel to his dad and he just shut him down and his accomplishments so hard. I cannot imagine how crushing it is to have your parent so blatantly brush off the hard work you did especially when it’s something you’re really proud of.

Hazel is trying so hard to reconnect and bring up the fun they had but oof years of emotional abuse do some damage and I’m not sure how easily that can be undone. Ohhh he has really shut down he put the glasses back on and called her the wrong name oof. I think I was right about the glasses being a mask. They hide what his eyes could show as sadness or other emotions he doesn’t want people (his dad) to see. It’s painful seeing such a young kid putting up a mask like this.

Oh I expected Hazel to cry not get mad and leave. Interesting. Also interesting to see Dev seem to immediately regret it and feel bad about it. Unfortunately abuse just. Messes with you. We don’t have any blatant abuse on screen (this is a kids show) but given the neglect Dev faces I struggle to think there isn’t also some major emotional abuse he deals with.

Hazels emotions seem all over the place her being so salty about the sushi. I have a feeling she’s trying to push down the feelings of friendship she was forming with Dev. Oh huh. Didn’t expect Dev to show up again. I guess he really connected with Hazel and just can’t admit it yet. Ohhh Devs insult gave Hazel the clue she needed I love that. Not the insult Hazels mind going back immediately to the project. I didn’t expect the paperweight to be relevant again but hey it works. Oh wow Dev looks super guilty. I kind of expected something to push him but he seems to be doing this all on his own.

Oh Dev lowering his glasses as he re opens up to Hazel. I get that though it makes sense his dad puts him down so much that he would immediately shut down. He is desperate to get something for his dad he’s willing to do a lot to try and get something I don’t think his dad will ever give him. Good on Hazel though for calling out that he hurt her. He owned up which is good but Hazel should call out she got hurt from it. HE SAID SORRY HE SAID SORRY!!!! Aww Hazel forgives him so easily and he removed the glasses again oh my heart.

Wait wait emotional growth wish????? I don’t think that’s ever come up before. Like ever.

Heist yes I love this. Lolz Dev finding doors open over and over again is hilarious. Dev joining on Hazels imagination for the heist is so cute though. And them posing for the security cameras is so funny. Oh more Dev smiles I love it!!!

Ohh I was wondering why he would demand students break into the principles office. That makes more sense and aww. Those photos are so cute. They’re adorable. Protect them at all costs. I do love the principle doesn’t care suddenly because homework over the weekend. Honestly nailed her personality there to solve the conflict.

Oh no the water park closed. Oh the kids will RIOT. THEY NAILED THEIR HIGH FIVE FINALLY!!!!!

Okay so uh. New favorite episode to be quite frank. The wish and its result made sense. The development for Dev worked and Hazel kind of understands Dev more and he’s being more open and not wearing his sunglasses anymore. Also Dev and Hazel are so dang cute. I hope we see him making more friends I need to see this child get love and support damn it. Really really solid episode absolutely loved it I hope we see more of Dev and Hazel hanging out. She clearly has a very good influence on him and he needs that in his life.

[the-cookie-of-doom]

ooooOOOOOO HOW ABOUT SOME JEFFCEST? when the storm breaks???? 👀👀👀👀

send me an ask and I'll tall you about one of these WIPs

This is my Rain God/Sunshine/Ghost/Evil Science Husband marathon sex PWP that's also like. 5 chapters long with a prequel and a sequel 🤡 I've drawn a bunch of spicy art for it that tumblr unfortunately won't let me post, too. Essentially it's a combination of acekimagenda's idea that Rain is the only one who could dom Sunshine + my idea that Ghost is Rain's Goodest Boy.

I won't get too into it bc there's an actual hint of plot that I don't want to spoil, but essentially: Sunshine is Husband's first (successful) clone, and Sunshine has a lot of resentment about it. Esp with Ghost being the last one, and him being obviously Husband's favorite because he's so sweet and perfect, not like crazy, violent Sunshine. He ends up with weirdly biblical daddy issues/kink from it, in a Frankenstein kind of way. (Doesn't literally call Husband "daddy", but refers to him as Creator and sometimes as Father in the religious sense). And then they all fuck about it <3

Unlike their darling Ghost—the last of his true creations—Sunshine couldn’t find an ounce of sympathy within himself for the other man. He only wished he’d been there to bear witness. Though he supposed seeing the results would have to suffice. The scientist, once so proud and arrogant, left a broken wretch in the wake of endless tests, poking and prodding and injecting and cutting, his downfall wrought by his own design. Poetic.  Of course, bleeding heart that Ghost was, he’d rescued their creator from His purgatory. Put Him all back together again like a faithful little puppet. He refused to resent Him for his own treatment. Naive boy. Oh, how Sunshine adored him. Especially when Ghost’s tender care meant he could break their creator all over again, take Him apart piece by piece knowing Ghost would be there to stitch those pieces back together, and so the cycle would renew. Again and again and again.  It was only fair.  Electricity pulsed at the base of Sunshine’s spine, lightning arcing through the vertebrae and straight into his brainstem, tearing a strangled cry from his throat.  “You are wandering,” came a low, thunderous voice that rumbled straight into his empty core. Fingers dug into his lower back, still sparking with tantalizing little licks of plasma. Sunshine wondered if they scorched his skin.  “A little,” he admitted on a breathy laugh, delighting in the displeased hum he received in response. Rain didn’t like to be ignored. He had that same egotistical quality as any deity, the same as his creator, that demanded attention. Devotion. Worship. But Sunshine bowed for no man, nor god. Not willingly—not without incentive.  “Insolent,” Rain murmured, cool mist dripping from even colder lips and curling around Sunshine’s ear. He shivered.  Rain drew himself back, up to his full height, and dragged Sunshine along with.  While Ghost made love to their creator on the bed, Rain pinned Sunshine against the foot of it, hard oak driving into the sharp jut of his hip bones. The insistent press of Rain’s hand at his lower back wasn’t nearly enough to make Sunshine bend to his will. He continued to stand proudly, ignoring the shadow-cloaked presence looming at his back, even as the static in the air around him made every one of Sunshine’s hairs stand on end.  “Why must you make everything difficult?” Rain asked, sighing, a gusty breeze that tousled Sunshine’s hair. “Your pride does not serve you well.” “I think it does.” Look at what his pride has earned him: his creator brought low, a slave to the very things He’d made to serve Him. A celestial deity, a storm made flesh, a god, answering to his pleasure. And Ghost, darling boy that he was, looking up to Sunshine as if he were a god himself, always with such wonder in his big brown eyes. Innocence, as well, that Sunshine could never seem to shake, no matter how he tried to taint him.  “Hmm.” Rain stroked a light hand all the way from the base of Sunshine’s spine to the nape of his neck, where he held him firmly. A final chance to submit. Sunshine refused. “Very well.”