#and WRITING ugh i miss writing

[inquisitor-julia]

what if i actually created content again....what then?

[blueskittlesart]

in the nicest and most non-confrontational way possible. i feel like some of you think that anything that isn't directly openly spelled out for you within a story is "missed potential" or "unexplored." like. sometimes there are implied narratives. sometimes the point is that you as the reader are supposed to think and draw your own conclusions and participate in the story. the writers not directly spelling every little detail out for you doesn't mean that the story is poorly written or missed its own plot details somehow. PLEASE.

[yaekiss]

since your normal requests are still open （＾ω＾） i absolutely NEED to go next door to my darling kaeya!!! he can’t just be so devoted and adoringly obsessive without being rewarded! after that little show of a picture he sent, can’t quite be satisfied until i ravage him the way we know he wants </3

𝑹𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅

꩜ Room Content: Dom! GN! Reader x Yan! Sub! Kaeya, no gendered terms for reader, Kaeya calls you "my heart", unhealthy and obsessive relationship from Kaeya, unhealthy attachment from reader, stalking (from Kaeya), mentions of biting and marking (Kaeya receiving), handjob (Kaeya receiving), lmk if I missed out anything ! ꩜ A/N: This is a (long overdue) sequel to this love letter from a previous event (now closed!) Sigh I really meant to finish this a lot earlier, first it was supposed to be your birthday present then when that date passed by, a v-day gift of sorts,,,,, But it's here now!! Hope it's kind of what you were looking to read @pulpbeing !

The whole walk over to the next room, regardless of how short it was, you were barely cognizant. It was hard to be, when mere minutes ago, it was revealed to you that your lover was some sort of obsessive stalker. (Yet, why does your heart still hammer so hard in your chest?)

Each step draws you closer and closer to Kaeya, and before you even register it, you’ve reached the door to his room. It's the very last one in the hallway. The room opposite his is vacant.

Your blood thrums under the skin of your fingers as you reach out to the smooth cold handle on the door, as if the mere act of crossing that threshold could shatter everything at once.

And to your surprise, the door swings open without any resistance.

The second your foot pads onto the carpet of his room and the door locks behind you, the atmosphere turns electric as a singular starry eye bores into you from where Kaeya is lounging on the bed.

And there he is. Draped in the same lacy white lingerie in the scandalous photograph he sent to you. As if the sight in the picture wasn’t stunning enough already, the sight of your lover before you outright steals the breath from your lungs. 

Adorned in naught by the gauzy fabric, you drag your gaze down from his face, to the crimson-stained trail left from that trickle of wine from his lips. The sheerness of the lingerie leaves nothing to the imagination with the way it snugly hugs his figure. The curve of his chest, his slender yet toned physique, stark white garter belt against the flesh of his thighs.

It's all ridiculously tantalising to you. And he knows it.

“No need to just stand by my door, my heart. You can do more than just gawk at me, you know?” Kaeya all but purrs out to you from where he’s seated, his one eye squinting as he grins.

Somehow, your body has already betrayed your warring thoughts within because when you next blink, you’ve crossed over to the bed, the mattress dipping as you take your seat beside him. His grin grows more blinding at this and he squeezes in closer to you, until your thighs are touching. 

“So the cat’s out of the bag, and now you know I’ve been tailing after you in Fontaine like some lovesick dog off a leash,” he sighs noncommittally, as if he didn’t just admit to stalking you.

He fixes you with a gaze, “How exactly does it make you feel?”

“Is it fear?”

The silence grows when you don’t respond, as if you know in a deep twisted part of your mind, that despite this, Kaeya would never harm a single hair on your head.

“Or is it desire?”

And it’s at this, that your heart thumps. 

The kiss is messy, more tongue and spit than anything else but you can’t be bothered when you’re busy removing the lingerie still on him. He melts into you as your hands wind around his frame, unravelling and undressing him from the flimsy layers of white lace that dare to separate him from you. When you watch the pure white tumble from him, perhaps he’s not the only one whose desires drive them wild.

A breathy moan leaves him as you leave bite mark after bite mark across the expanse of his neck. The feeling of your teeth pressed against his skin, the pressure and force behind it threatening to break past the surface. You’re kind enough to grant him one last hickey prior to pulling back and briefly admiring your handiwork.

Hands trailing down his side, you graze your fingertips over his hips before you settle a palm against his length. Just before he can roll himself up to rut against your hand, your other hand grips the side of his hip, stilling him as a protesting noise slips past his lips.

“You’ll move when I say you can. You can do that for me, yes?” 

Docile, he nods and simply watches on as your hand wraps itself around him. You can tell by the way he’s fisting the bedsheets that he’s holding himself back, resisting the urge to fuck into your hand. Aided by the precum drooling from his tip, you glide your hand slowly up and down, marvelling at the way his breath hitches and eyes screw shut whenever you twist your grip exactly where you know he likes it.

It doesn’t take long before you can tell he’s reaching his limit. His breathing grows clipped and ragged and his groans and whines become increasingly needy. Every time his hips jerk involuntarily, your hand stills, prompting him to plead pitifully for you to continue. He makes quite the sorry sight before you, and your heart twinges with the need to watch him come undone.

Deciding you’ve toyed with him enough for now, you lean in, whispering, “Go on, let me see how you reward yourself.”

His pulse jackrabbits as you lave your tongue along his jugular, panting out broken “thank you”s at your generosity while he frantically chases his release, rutting into your hand. A quick twist and he’s spilling over, crumpling in on himself as he moans unabashedly at the pleasure you’ve shown to him. He has his chin hooking over your shoulder and arms wrapping around you, pulling you into a tight hug whilst riding out his high, his chest heaving as he catches his breath.

Suddenly, your world tilts when Kaeya pulls you down onto the bed, you lie atop him, trapped in his embrace.

And coy as he is, he slithers next to your ear and whispers breathlessly, “It’s alright, you can have your way with me,” you can feel his heart pound from beneath you, your pulse matching his.

“There’s no one next door anyways.”

Thanks for reading! Consider supporting me on kofi if you enjoyed this or check out my other works hehe ♡

[paingoes]

character who always has to wear a tie around his neck so there is always something available to restrain him with :)

[ecstarry]

@jegulus-microfic / treat / 276 words / just vet regulus and a very flustered james

“Are you sure she’s okay?” 

This was the third day in a row that James had visited the veterinarian. When Sirius asked him to take care of his cat, Nala, he didn’t hesitate—especially knowing that if anything went wrong, he could always just check with Regulus.

“Yes, James. I’m the vet here, you should trust my word.” 

“Oh I didn’t mean to imply -” 

“I’m messing with you,” Regulus said in a light tone, his lips almost forming a smirk. 

James had always known Regulus was attractive, but something about seeing him look this fucking good in scrubs stirred something new in him. By the end of the first visit, he realized he probably had a competency kink—something about Regulus explaining things he didn’t understand just did it for him. He could barely form coherent sentences, let alone flirt with him, but god, how James wanted to flirt with Regulus.

“You’re mean.” Well, he tried. 

“Should I give you a treat?” Regulus quipped as he returned Nala to James’ arms. 

“I- yeah- I mean-” 

“You’re blushing, James,” Regulus said with a sweet smile. But James didn’t want to be seen as adorable; he wanted to evoke something more, something that might make Regulus take off those scrubs.

“I should go.” James hugged Nala tighter and made his way to the door, feeling flustered. He hadn’t even said goodbye, so he turned back toward the unfairly good-looking vet one more time. “Thanks again, Dr. Black.”

“I know I’m at work but you can still call me Reg.” 

James took one of Nala’s paws and waved, “Goodbye, Reg.”

He really needed to find another reason to come back tomorrow.

[cinnamontoastcrunch-15]

Hey there! hope you're having a good day. What about something after the full moon where remus isn't in good shape and has to stay in the hospital and madam pomfy won't let anyone in so sirius somehow sneaks in to snuggle with his boyfriend?

I LOVE THIS

"No," Madame Pomfrey says firmly, hands on her hips. "Absolutely not. Turn around and walk away."

Sirius' stomach drops at that. She doesn't kick them out unless she thinks it's bad, too.

"Hold on, we-" James starts, but he doesn't get very far. Madame Pomfrey lifts a finger and James, for once, lapses into silence.

"He needs rest."

"We'll be quiet," Peter says quickly, as Sirius tries to find something to say. Something to convince her to let him in. There's nothing, though. Nothing he can think to say, because every inch of him is taken up by the fact that Remus is hurt. Really fucking hurt.

"This is non-negotiable," she says, and they all know it's final. Madame Pomfrey has a scary amount of authority. With a resigned sigh, James grabs Sirius' shoulder, turning him around and going to pull him a way. Sirius tries to protest, but he knows full well that it's futile. He's just going to have to have a day of panic. Maybe he can skip lessons, claim that he doesn't feel well, even get into the hospital wing himself if he drinks something he's not supposed to.

"You can borrow the cloak, Padfoot. I've got Remus' notes covered," James murmurs as they hear the hospital wing door shut. It's enough to release some of the tension in his shoulders.

"Cheers," He says quietly.

That's how he finds himself, transformed into Padfoot, under the invisibility cloak. He slips through the door, barely letting it open and moving slowly to keep the cloak over him. Thankfully, Poppy doesn't look twice, turned away from the entrance, as she gathers up some books. She checks in on a cubicle, created by curtains, before heading into her small office and closing the door behind her.

That must be Remus.

He's there in seconds, transforming back and pulling the cloak off his head as quickly as he physically can.

Merlin, Remus is bad.

He's got a new slice across his face and is absolutely covered in bruises. Sirius can spot where Poppy's healed too many broken bones, and Remus looks absolutely exhausted. Christ, he must be in so much pain.

For a moment, Remus doesn't even register that he's there. It gives Sirius a chance to school his features, swiping his wand and wordlessly casting a silencing charm. Sluggishly, Remus lifts his head, eyes widening the moment they reach Sirius.

"Padfoot, what...?" His voice is croaky, stopping himself and trying to clear his throat. His entire face contorts in pain, making Sirius' heart tug.

"Hey, darling. How're you feeling?" He asks softly. He knows full well what the answer is going to be, expecting Remus to say 'terrible'.

Instead, tears start to fill his eyes.

Sirius' face softens, and he doesn't hesitate in sitting on the edge of the bed. He presses the palm of his hand to Remus' uninjured cheek, swiping the first tear away.

"It's okay. It's over now, everything's going to be okay."

Remus winces as he lifts his arms. Still, it doesn't stop him from grabbing Sirius' shirt and pulling him closer. Sirius climbs into the bed immediately, wrapping his arms around Remus and pulling the boy to his chest. He's half sat up, half laying down, so that Remus can rest his head on Sirius' chest. It's honestly not the most comfortable, but Sirius couldn't care less. Remus is here, and that's all he really cares about. He gently brushes his fingers through Remus' hair, hearing his breathing even out as he falls asleep.

Guess he's staying here.

He gently presses his lips to the top of Remus' head, only to be interrupted by the sound of a curtain rustling. He lifts his head and comes face to face with Madame Pomfrey. She doesn't say anything, just shoots him a stern look, and if Remus wasn't sleeping soundly, Sirius would start begging. Instead, he just looks at her, pleading. As if on cue, Remus tightens his grip on Sirius, pulling himself slightly closer in his sleep. Its enough for a smile to form on Sirius' face, looking down at Remus.

When he looks back up, Madame Pomfrey's gone.

Sirius' shoulders relax, and he lets his eyes close.

Thank Merlin Remus is okay.

[togrowoldinv]

Thinking about hugging Natasha Romanoff 🥺

[bugeyedfreaks]

I still haven’t been able to pick up a copy of the new PPG comic but you know what? I saw this panel online from it and…

…if this is like a Super Zeroes-esque comic where the girls are envisioning alternate versions of themselves with different destinies and if Blossom wants to be a detective GOD! BLESS! whoever wrote this ‘cause it’s perfect.

Bubbles as a bunny and Buttercup as a wrestler are also both perfect but that goes without saying. 🙏

[bigbrotherlouis]

i would love to hear more about mcstrome 🫡

realistically i'm sure it's the age-old story of two kids end up in the same place and become best friends because of proximity and then once they leave being in each others' presence and grow up into adults that friendship fades away but there's still fondness there.

however fictionally? alexa play ribs by lorde

you are fifteen years old. you are fifteen years old and you have been drafted to a new team in a new city in a new country. you are the youngest person on your team and you are probably the best person on your team and you are eight hours from home, granted special exception to be drafted a year early into the OHL and you are proving yourself against boys two, three, four years older than you, but despite it all your team finishes almost dead last. you are rookie of the year.

you are sixteen years old. you are sixteen years old, and the second best player in the draft, the draft that should've been yours but wasn't, is coming to your team. you know him. you meet him in the summer and you're already friends, fast friends, and you've been dreaming about being teammates again. he talks fast and he's fiercely loyal and he keeps up with you on the ice and he reminds you of home. he is not your best friend yet but he will be. he invites you home during the summers and asks if you want to play street hockey with him. you come and you sit on the sidelines, already conscious of the worth of your body enough that you know this is not something you should be participating in. he doesn't care, though, captain of a team, yelling at mitch marner who is an awful goalie and keeps letting in goals, and winning that summer. you go to the beach together, pale and stretched out on the sand, and now you are best friends.

you are seventeen years old. you are seventeen years old and they have just named you the captain of your team. you're wearing the letter with pride but people are talking about you like you're the second coming of hockey jesus. they've been talking about you for a while now, but this feels like more. this feels heavy. you break your hand in a fight in november because you are, after all, still a teenage boy. you sit out and watch as your best friend lights up the ice. he is the best person out there when you're on the bench and it shows in the stats and the points. he can tell you all the stats and the points because he's good at remembering those. he says he can remember every single play he's ever made and honestly? you kind of believe him. the haunting specter of the draft covers your entire year, looming in the corners of your vision, colouring every interaction. you are good, and he is good, and there is no chance of being drafted together, no matter how much you secretly hope. the calendar is a countdown clock towards your end, but you make him promise you will stay best friends because you don't really know what you will do without him.

you are eighteen years old. you are eighteen years old and edmonton has already made your jersey even though the draft hasn't happened yet. the graveyard of first overalls and rumors of a curse after gretzky left. you're the next gretzky and you're the next coming of hockey jesus and the entire city is waiting for your salvation. he goes third. phoenix, which is the literal opposite of edmonton. you hang off of him the entire weekend before, realising that this is the crescendo. you will never be otters together again. there's little chance you'll even be teammates again, so you cling tight even as you're so breathlessly excited for the moment your name get called first. you trip off the stage in a jersey that doesn't quite fit right but has your name on the back, and quietly ask if you can watch this next pick before you go backstage. you twine yourselves in a hug when he follows behind and it feels awfully like a goodbye.

now.

you are eighteen years old. you are eighteen years old and your best friend is drafted number one overall. you always knew he was better. you always knew he was made for more, so it doesn't hurt. you're happy to follow in his footsteps because you are his best friend and nothing will ever change that. besides, third is still a good number. amazing, even. they send you back to erie but you expected that. no one makes it to the show unless they are exceptional or a team is desperate, and edmonton is both. he scores his first nhl point in his third game and you are named captain of the otters. life is good. he breaks his collarbone less than a month in, shattering his rookie dreams. he comes home to you, in erie, because no one else understands him like you do. no one knows how to manage him when he's broken and angry, but you have patience and a lot of love and loyalty. you lie in your big bed and take up most of the mattress, two grown boys in the dark, and you don't kiss him. you could, but you don't.

you are nineteen years old. you are nineteen years old and he is named captain of his nhl team, also at nineteen. he is the youngest captain in history. thirteen days later, you score your first point. a month after that, arizona sends you packing back to erie. this time it hurts. you were doing your best and it wasn't bad and your best friend is captain of the oilers and you are playing with your high school team again. they make you captain for the second year in a row, but it's not the oilers and it's not the coyotes, so does it actually fucking matter? you are determined to prove everyone wrong and so you drag your team to the memorial cup. you win and it feels like a fuck you and it is maybe the best moment of your goddamn life. your phone is quiet. you haven't had any texts from edmonton for months.

you are twenty years old. you are twenty years old and this is finally your goddamn year. except-- you go pointless in two games and arizona decides that's not good enough. you've aged out of the otters so you pack your bag for tuscon instead. you spend your winter bouncing between the nhl and the ahl, sometimes so fast it makes you sick. winter in the desert feels weird, feels barren. you lie on your floor under the a/c and deliberately do not think of the time you almost kissed your ex-best friend. he's your ex-best friend because he's got a new one up there, draisaitl who also went third but the year before you. he can keep up with him, even better than you can, because he's not being bounced up and down. you wonder if draisaitl ever wants to kiss him. you wonder if draisaitl ever has.

you are twenty one years old. you are twenty one years old and you are a draft bust. they've been calling you that for years but now they're right. arizona trades you to chicago for practically nothing, which is embarrassing, but it's alright because you've got an old otter, brinksy, there on your team. you're nothing special, but you're nothing bad either. if only you hadn't touched the hem of hockey jesus as a teenager. if only you hadn't known what greatness tastes like. when you face off against edmonton, he won't meet your eye. he slides out of the centre dot and draisaitl steps in and wins the draw.

you are twenty three years old. you are twenty three years old and you have a girlfriend now, a pretty one, and it's-- good. your team makes it to the weird-ass playoffs in august, because there's a pandemic now, and you get trapped in a hotel in edmonton. your girlfriend tells you that she's pregnant right before you leave, like right before, and you can barely care about anything else. you barely care that he is two floors below you and the last message in your texts was a happy birthday! three years ago. unimaginably, you knock him out of the playoffs on his home ice. in the handshake line, he offers you his palm and his eyes skate over you like you're a stranger.

you are twenty five years old. you are twenty five years old, and on yet another new team. that's good, though, even if he will always be so much better. your fiance asks if she should send an letter to an edmonton address and you hesitate. you are no longer friends anymore. you haven't been for years and years, even if you lie when the press ask. but you loved him, once. you loved him so much that you were part of him and he was part of you, and the teenager on a shared bed in the dark will not let you forget that. you put his name down on an envelope.

so.

you are twenty five years old. you are twenty five years old and a wedding invitation arrives at your front door. you slide your fingernail under the flap and freeze when you see the faces on the front. there's a secret you will never tell anyone, not even on your deathbed, but you think of it now. it takes up so much space in your lungs that you can barely breathe. and it hurts. your girlfriend, who you love very much finds you shredding paper into a wastebasket and asks if everything is alright. you lie. you can't imagine not lying and so she doesn't catch you at it. you tell her that you've always wanted to go to manchester, england. you tell her that you should plan a trip for the summer, and you end up on a plane to a different continent while your ex-best friend is getting married back home.

you are sixteen years old. you are sixteen years old and flat on your back at the beach, listening to the water lap up on shore. beside you, he drops to the ground to stretch out too, his bare arm pressing up against your own. it dawns on you, as consuming and as present as gravity, that you are in love with him. it dawns on you that maybe you always be.

you're the only friend i need / sharing beds like little kids / we'll laugh until our ribs get tough / but that will never be enough

[sunsetsandsunshine]

~ 𝚃𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎… ~

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝚃𝙸𝙲𝙺𝙻𝙴𝚃𝙾𝙱𝙴𝚁 𝙳𝙰𝚈 𝟷𝟺: 𝙰𝙵𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙼𝙰𝚃𝙷˚*• ̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊· ̩̩̥͙

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙷𝚞𝚛𝚝/𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟹,𝟹𝟾𝟶

𝙻𝚎𝚎: 𝙻𝚎𝚘 🐢💙

𝙻𝚎𝚛: 𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎 🐢💜

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚖𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚑 𝚋𝚢 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙵𝚘𝚘𝚝…𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙻𝚎𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏-𝚍𝚎𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚝.

(𝙰/𝙽: 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢: 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚐𝚞𝚢! 𝚃*𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚔/𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚜 𝙳𝙽𝙸!!!)

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝙲𝚞𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜, 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 (𝚂𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛 ✊🏾😔) 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏-𝚍𝚎𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜. 𝚈'𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚕𝚕: 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚔!!!

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙴𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢!!!˚*•̩̩͙✩•

“Alright...well, that wraps that up. You’re all good to go, Mikes.” Donnie said as he finished wrapping the youngest’s arm up in bandages. 

The orange banded turtle smiled slightly, giving his immediate older brother a tight hug which the other gladly returned. 

“Thanks…” The smaller turtle said, burying his face into the crook of the other’s neck as they embraced. 

The scientist in purple smiled softly at the gesture, resting his chin on the top of the younger’s head, “It’s no problem. After all, it is what I do.” He said casually, slowly breaking away from the hug as he put the remainder of the bandages to the side of the Med-Bay counter.

Michaelangleo nodded, hopping down from the Med-bay bed and putting on his signature orange hoodie that was resting on a clothing hanger. Donatello let out a soft snort, raising an amused eyebrow ridge at his immediate younger brother, “Whahat’s with the random wardrobe change? You look like a bloated frog.” 

The baby blue eyed turtle let out a feigned gasp, clutching his chest dramatically, “Fihirst ohof all: fuck you. And second of all: I look haaaandsome in this!” He huffed, “Don’t you agree, Leo?” The orange cladded teen said as he turned to the eldest who was sitting on the other bed.

But Leonardo did not make a sound…or…literally any acknowledgement that he even heard the youngest. 

The leader in blue was looking at the tile floor; his eyes glossy as he fiddled with his fingers absentmindedly. 

Donatello sighed, resting his hand on Mikey’s shoulder, “…Leo’s been…shaken up since the ambush; you know how he gets. He’s most likely making up a wholeeeee simulation in his head on how he could’ve 'protected us better…'”

Mikey hummed lightly, crossing his arms and looking at the eldest who was genuinely oblivious to the staring, “…What a weirdo…” 

“Yeah…he is.” The young genius commented back, shaking his head fondly, “But he’s our weirdo.”

“Ohoooo no. Noooo no no no no. That was way too freaking cringy…even for you, Dee.” The younger teen fake-gagged, pretending to throw up as Donnie only snickered at the immature action. 

This is what he gets for trying to be sentimental in front of his younger brother…

As the freckled face mutant continued with his antics, amping it up a million notches as Raph came in…the tallest turtle couldn’t help but catch a glance at his big brother once again.

Leo looked…so dejected…so…so lost.

Donnie exhaled sadly, rubbing his hand anxiously. 

…Splinter would know what to do at a time like this…he always knew what to do at times like this…

Then…worried green eyes met an unsure russet.

Raphael walked to his immediate younger brother, squeezing his hand gently, “…You okay, Don…?”  

Donatello cleared his throat, his free hand flapping near his thigh…

…God, he missed his Dad…

…He missed him so fucking much…

“I-I’m…fine. I’m fine.” The scientist insisted, gently squeezing his older brother’s hand back, “I just…need to patch up Leo and talk with him for a bit…”

“Aye aye 'Captain.” Mikey saluted, giving Donnie a quick peck on the cheek before skedaddling away to the lounge area. 

The middle children rolled their eyes fondly at the youngest’s actions as the green eyed one of the three let go of the tallest’s hand, “…You sure you’re okay?”

“…Y-Yeah…y-yeah, I’m okay.” Donnie grimaced, “Now please go to Mike before he decides to blow up the entire lounge area…” He snickered lightly. 

“Blowing up things is your job, Einstein. But I’m on it.” The elder snorted fondly, walking to the exit before turning his head slightly back to his brother, “Oh— and just so y'know: we’re watching Toy Story 3 in the living room in a couple of minutes.”

Donatello let out an amused huff, “…Ihis this your way of rushing me?” 

“Mmmmm…kinda.” The red banded turtle hummed, shrugging slightly.

“Ihi’ll be as fast ahas I cahan, Raphie…” The taller turtle giggled as he watched his immediate older brother waltz out of the room, “Oh! And don’t start the movie without us!” He yelled from Med-Bay, closing the main doors as he turned all of his attention to his eldest brother…

…Oh. boy…

“Hey, big guy...” The scientist started off softly, slowly going over to his big brother with his signature med-kit. 

The blue banded turtle looked up almost immediately at the sudden voice speaking to him, being forced out of whatever void he was staring into. 

“Hey, Dee…” The elder smiled…although the smile looked more like a forced one…

…Donnie didn’t comment on it. 

“Hey, man…” The younger greeted again, slightly cringing at the sound of his own awkwardness, “How’re you holding up?” 

The smaller turtle blinked at the question, “I’m not…holding anything...” 

Donatello snickered softly at the answer (a typical Leo answer), resting his med-kit on the table as he got out some bandaids and other supplies, “I mean, like…how are you doing? Are you doing alright?” 

The blue banded teen shrugged, “I could…be better. But I’m with you guys, so…I can’t complain…that much anyway…” He finished bluntly.

“Amen to that.” The taller turtle hummed before turning back to his brother, “But before I start…is there anywhere that’s, like, really hurting that you want me to take a look at first? And most importantly: are you okay with me touching you right now or do you want to do the physical stuff later?” He asked as he grabbed his med-kit and a couple other unused washrags. 

“Just my arms hurt, I guess. But it’s just from cuts…nothing major I don’t think.” Leonardo muttered, “And I’m okay with being touched right now…th-thanks for asking.” 

Donatello chuckled softly, “Gotta make sure my big bro’s a-okay.” He grinned, giving the other a thumbs up and getting a disinfectant wipe as he cleaned the cuts on Leo’s arms. 

Heavy silence weighed down the two, almost like a huge weighted blanket.

Accept this silence was not comforting in the slightest…

….It was loud…if that made sense. 

“Soooo…” The taller turtle started, “The Foot took us by complete surprise, huh?” The young scientist exclaimed to try and start a subtle conversation, “You would think that after we beat them every. single. time…they would learn to back the fuck up…”

“Ow.” Leo muttered subtly as the russet eyed mutant cleaned a wound on his shoulder.

The younger grimaced, “Sorry…I’m being as gentle as I can.”

“Well, please be more gentle?” The other winced. 

“Suck it up but also that’s what she said.” Donnie remarked sarcastically, getting more rubbing alcohol and putting it on the other’s shoulder before putting a bandaid on it.

The blue eyed mutant winced at the contact, glaring at the ground as scene’s from just an hour ago unfolded in his mind…

…Jesus fucking Christ…

…How could he have been so. damn. stupid…?

He was supposed to lead his brother’s to victory…not lead them to a legit ambush and straight up failure!!!

What would have Splinter said?

…What…could he have said?

They all could have died because of Leo’s own foolishness…

He had one job.

One fucking job: make sure his brother’s get out of every mission safe and unharmed…

But he couldn’t even protect himself when it came to it…

So what kind of delusions was he feeding himself to make himself even remotely think he could protect his family?

“Woah! Woah woah woah! Hey! Hey…” Donnie’s eyes widened in panic as his older brother slowly started to crumble to tears, although, the younger teen could tell that the eldest was desperatelytrying to hold them back despite his efforts.

“Leo, I-I was just joking about the whole 'suck it up' thing. Y-You know that…right? I was trying to be funny, which…o-obviously backfired.” The second youngest mumbled guiltily, holding Leonardo’s hands in his as he rubbed the top of his knuckles gently. 

“I-It’s n-not that…” The shorter teenager mumbled back pathetically. 

“So…what is it then…?” Donnie quietly asked, his grip on his brother’s hands tightening just a bit as the other refused to answer. 

And almost like an everlasting reminder, the heavy silence weighed down on the two mutants once more.

“Leo…” The purple banded teen urged lightly as the eldest wiped his eyes with his free hand, sniffling as he looked at the ground, “I-It’s nothing…forget i-it.” 

“Lee…” The taller turtle urged on. 

“F-Forget it…please...” The eldest silently begged, wincing at how fragile and weak his voice sounded, “J-Just forget it.” 

“I can’t 'forget' about something when it’s obviously bothering you…” Donatello smiled gently as he sat next to his brother on the bed, wrapping him in a loose side hug that left the smaller turtle to accept or deny…

…Which he very much accepted.

Leonardo rested his head on the other’s shoulder, squeezing his little brother closer to him like a lifeline.

“I just…” The sapphire eyed teenager sucked in a breath, blinking back tears as he buried his face into Donnie’s shoulder, “…I-I just worry so…much about you and Raph’s and Mikey’s and April’s and Casey’s safety and I…I just can’t!”He exclaimed, overall sadness and shame overcoming and overwhelming him immensely. 

“Why…W-Why do I keep worrying about things that can’t be changed no matter what I do?!” The older mumbled, finding it quite humiliating how…brittle his voice was now.

But let’s be honest…it always did sound like that. 

He was supposed to be calm. 

He was supposed to be collected.

He was supposed to be calm and collected. 

…Not…whatever this was.

“I was worried about going out on today’s mission and look what f-fuhucking happened!!!” The sapphire eyed teen laughed bitterly, hugging himself as if his own comfort was the only comfort he felt like he deserved at the moment, “We got ambushed by The fucking Foot…” He grumbled, glaring hatefully at the floor.

“I-I just want you all to be o-okay.” The leader in blue choked out, “I hate seeing you all hurt and only being able to do something about it after the event that caused said hurt has passed…”

The smaller mutant sniffled, wiping his face with his palm, “…Eheven then I can’t do much.”

“I-I j-just…” Leonardo stuttered, “I-I just w-want you all to be o-okay…” 

And just like that…the berating silence visited once again, making Donnie stiffen almost like a stone hard wall as he looked at the other turtle’s completely downtrodden expression. 

The taller teen reached to gently hold the other’s hand, and his eyes only softened more when his elder brother moved his hand out of his reach quickly and quietly. 

The russet eyed mutant fidgeted with his fingers anxiously, “Leo…listen to me, please—”

“No…N-No, stop.” The sapphire eyed mutant said almost immediately, desperately trying to build back up the wall he built between him and his brother…

…Except this time instead of building this wall with cement…he built it without anything to support the bricks at all. 

“It…I-It doesn’t matter, okay?” Leonardo sniffled, wiping his eyes desperately with one hand and digging his hand into his thigh. The taller teenager sighed sadly, scooting closer to his brother and holding his hand, squeezing it gently and reassuringly, “Yes…it does.” The younger said with a stern tone; not an angry one…just stern. 

“I don’t want you to disregard your feelings, okay? This matters. Your feelings matter, Lee…” The taller said as he just now realized he still had the gloves he put on earlier on.

The second youngest of the mutant family quickly went to take off the disposable gloves and put them into the trash, going back to the bed and sitting next to Leonardo, interlocking his fingers with his.

And, man…

Leo’s hands were really ashy. Like…chalk ashy. 

…Eugh. 

Maaaaybe having those gloves on wasn’t such a bad idea…

The russet eyed mutant locked eyes with the smaller, making sure the other knew he meant every word he was saying, “This is about you right now, okay…?” 

The blue banded teen stiffened slightly at the other’s sudden firm voice, looking down at his own knees as he rubbed his thigh with his free hand anxiously. 

Donnie’s eyes softened once more for, like, the fourth time this hour at the eldest’s anxious demeanor, going into his pouch and giving his brother a stress ball, which the blue banded turtle gladly took. 

The second youngest sighed, “I-I’m not angry at you, okay?”

The other looked at the taller doubtfully.

“Don’t look at me like that!!!” The russet eyed teenager huffed, “I might be frustrated that you’re pushing down your feelings in order to 'protect mine'…but I would never be mad at you.” He emphasized, “Never.” 

But then, the purple banded teen then jokingly hummed in thought, lightly rubbing his brother’s knuckles with his fingers, “Well…there was that one time you swapped the house sprinkles and replaced them with salt for my ice cream…I was mad at you for that.” 

And thank God Leo cracked a small smile; rolling his eyes and giggling slightly at the random comment, “Okahay thahat was an accident…” 

“You put food coloring on the salt! 'Accident' my ass.” 

The eldest just laughed harder at the memory, “Yohour fahahault fohor falling fohor ihit…” 

The second youngest sighed dramatically, “Gaslighting the victim at its finest, I see.” 

The purple banded turtle then lightly bumped his brother’s shoulder, squeezing his hand one last time, “I do need you to know, though…it gets better, Leo…okay?” Donnie said with..so much love and compassion and just utmost respect for his older brother.

“…Does it…?” The sapphire eyed teen murmured.

“It does.” The other assured, “I-I know it doesn’t feel like it right now…but it does.” He said, examining his brother’s readable but yet unreadable expression, “…You don’t believe me…”

“And why should I?” The other quietly and carefully asked. 

“…Would I ever lie to you?”

“…No.” Leo concluded as he sniffled, resting his head on his brother’s shoulder as the taller mutant chuckled, “And I’m just gonna be blunt here…you’re a worrywart.” Donnie snickered. 

“Hey!!” The young leader huffed. 

“And you worry and stress about a lot of things.” The young genius exclaimed, “And that’s okay. But what’s not okay is you disregarding those feelings.”

“You’re our big brother for Christ sake! I would lowkey be kinda worried if you didn’t worry about us.” Donatello laughed, “But you have to trust that we’ll be okay in the end. We have each other…and personally? That’s all I really need…” 

Leonardo’s eyes shined slightly, burying his face in his brother’s upper plastron, “L-Love you…” 

“I love you too, shortie.” Donnie smiled softly as he gently squeezed the other against him before letting go and getting up to put the rest of the medical kit things away. 

“So…how do I look Doc McStuffins?” The leader in blue grinned cheekily as he wiped away his excess tears. 

The younger rolled his eyes fondly, “Okay, well first of all: fuck you. And second, your okay. Just a couple scratches…nothing major.” Donnie said as he disposed the rest of the dirty cloths and disinfectant wipes in the trash.

“But if I see you training at all for the next two weeks I will personally burn your entire Space Heroes action figure collection.” Donatello huffed. 

Leonardo’s eyes widened, “…You wouldn’t.” 

Donatello raised a brow, smirking, “Wanna bet?” 

The eldest sighed in defeat, looking down at the ground and pouting slightly, “No…” 

Donatello chuckled at the other’s demeanor, going in front of him and holding his hands gently, “But you have to promise me something.” 

“Hm?”

“Talk to someone if you feel shitty about yourself or something!” The purple banded turtle huffed, flicking his brother’s forehead, “You know better than anyone else here that bottling up feelings just ends up badly.” 

“And put some damn lotion on. Your hands are ashy as hell.” The russet eyed teenager said, holding back a snort as his older brother stammered over his words at the random order. 

“Wohoah wooooah, pause pause pause!” The blue banded turtle giggled, waving his hands, “I thought we were having a moment!” 

“We were!” The russet eyed mutant laughed, “I just need you to put some cream on. It’s bothering me!” 

“Everything bothers you…” The leader in blue grumbled under his breath, getting up from the bed and getting lotion which was on one of the desk tables. “Better?” The older said sassily as he put the cream on, raising an eye ridge to the taller teenager who just snickered in amusement by his sassiness. 

“Much better, ash baby.” The taller chuckled, sitting down on the bed as the smaller followed. 

“So…what now?” The sapphire eyed teen hummed. 

“Well, I dunno if you heard but Raph and Mikey wanted to watch Toy Story 3…” Donnie said. 

“Of course they did…” Leo laughed fondly, “And here I thought I cried enough today…”

“…You sure you’re okay, though…?” The other asked. 

“I mean, yeah…” The sapphire eyed mutant shrugged, “I just wish I knew what to do when stuff like this happens…”

“…Like Dad did?” Donnie mumbled. 

“Like Dad did.” Leo nodded, sharing a small smile of remembrance with the younger. 

Donatello nodded, getting up for a quick second as he took off his mask and washed his hands in the Med-bay sink. The eldest quickly and quietly followed, washing his hands as well before drying them.

And…remember the silence?

The shell crushing berating silence that he couldn’t stand for more than 0.1 seconds…?

…Well, it was gone now…

But it was replaced with comfort. And quite personally that was way better than just straight up awkwardness… 

Leonardo put on a comfy hoodie as his sibling did the same, the both of them ready for the movie night about to unfold but…not quite ready.

If that made sense. 

“Awkward sibling hug?” The russet eyed teen said as he stretched his arms out, causing his sibling to chuckle, rolling his eyes.

“It’s only awkward if you make it awkward.” The sapphire eyed mutant laughed fondly. “I was making a reference!” Donatello exclaimed as he pouted slightly. “Just come here!” 

The shorter turtle just fondly rolled his eyes once more, embracing his younger brother. Donatello gave the other a comforting kiss on the cheek, causing the blue cladded teenager to stifle a small giggle. 

“JESUS! Dohon!” The older one shouted, hiding his face in his brother’s shoulder before letting out a small snort, “Noho Dohon whyhy…?” 

“Because I love you? Duh.” The other laughed, holding his sibling against his plastron tighter as his free hand danced around the leader’s sides. 

“Ihi knohow thahat!” Leo squealed, “Yohou don’t need to fuhucking kihihiss me to show IHIHAT! SNRT NONOHOH WAHAIT!!” He cried as his brother pinched up and down his ribs like a harp. “IHI CAHAN’T!!”

“IIIiIIiI cAaAaaan’t..” The young genius teased. 

The leader’s face turned the lightest of pink, shaking his head back and forth as he squirmed, “DOHON’T MIHIHIMICK SNRT MEEHEE!” He demanded. 

“Been there, done that.” The other shrugged casually, giving small kisses in the crook of the smaller’s neck, causing the smaller in question giggle’s to raise a million octaves. 

“EHEHEHEW!!!” Leonardo complained through cackles, “SCREHEHEW AHAFF!!”

“Notice how you’re still in the hug though.” Donnie commented, stopping and giving the other a quick squeeze before letting him go.

“Shuhut snrt up…” The sapphire eyed mutant huffed, almost jumping out of his shell as the second youngest poked him one more time before opening his phone notifications. 

Text from 'RAPH-A-HELL', 2 minutes ago:

'WHAT IS TAKING YOU GUYS SO DAMN SO LONG DID LEO LOSE A LIMB OR SOME SHIT???!!??}{{>'

Donnie sighed as he texted his older brother back, sighing louder as his other older brother peered over his shoulder to see who he was texting. 

Nosy ass…

'We’ll be right there, Raphie 😗'

'YOU SAID THAT AN HUPOUR AD FITENN MINUTES AGO 😡😡😡😡😡🥺'

'*😡!!!!'

Leo quickly snatched the phone from Donnie’s grip, quickly typing something before handing it back. 

'Yeah yeah Mr. Cranky we’re coming 🤡🤡🤡🤡👺👺👺🤑🤑🤠👹👿😈👾💩👻'

Donnie held back a snicker as he looked at the text, putting his phone in his pocket as Leo grinned in satisfaction. “Lemme guess…” Leonardo hummed, “He left us on read.”

“Can you blame him? Those emojis you put looks like they came straight from hell…” The taller remarked as they walked out of the Med-bay, heading to the living room.

[shoopsthereitis]

look I love writing james' pov...he's my guy he really is...but I miss writing regulus' pov SO much lately I wanna be in that little freaks brain

[feddy-34]

inspired by this lovely tweet from @ohymnia have some brain rot

under the cut: dubcon/noncon, omegaverse, forced mating, mpreg mention, idk man

but anyway that one brock/nick fic on ao3 where brock's never had anyone to share his heat with before and so nick offers to help out cuz he has a moment where he sees brock being alone sitting by his locker and nick can smell the preheat on him and he's like "damn my qb is kinda pretty"

but!!! brock says no

and nick is not a person used to being told no (see above image) so he's pissed. who does brock think he is? rejecting a second overall pick, multi million dollar contract, top DE in the league alpha? he's the last overall pick, nobody wanted him anyway. and nick's getting more and more ratched up and his scent is getting stronger and stronger until brock feels like he's suffocating. he wants to leave but what can he do? everyone else has cleared out of the building already (brock took a long ass time in the showers) and nick's got him perfectly cornered.

plus brock's an omega going into preheat, nick's heavy ass pheromones are really starting to take a toll on him. he can feel his scent glands throbbing, knees getting weaker as the urge to submit takes over. and really, would it be so bad? finally having someone to ease the pain that roars through him setting every limb on fire? "i know you haven't had anyone to help you, but i'm here now," nick says, and isn't he? he's right there, a perfectly viable alpha. some part of brock's brain tells him to resist, to not give in, but that instinct is getting quieter and quieter as brock feels himself pulled towards nick.

and before he knows it, he's on his knees.

nick takes him home, cares for him through his heat, does an okay job, but he never leaves brock alone. every single moment he's there, presence and scent filling up every room of brock's house until he feels like he'll never be able to escape nick. he finally gets him out when his heat is clearly over, only convincing nick by promising that he'll come over after practice.

it's the first moment brock's had to himself in days. his mind feels numb, automatically dumping sheets and blankets into the washer, making himself a quick snack, mechanically scrubbing himself down. until he steps out of the shower and sees the marks. brock is absolutely covered in scratches, bruises, bites, and the more he looks the more he feels them start to sting and pulse. did nick really do this? brock doesn't remember feeling much pain, but he also doesn't really remember much at all. staring at the perfectly defined handprint-shaped bruises covering his hips and waist, his stomach starts to sink.

but nick is nice enough at practice and he sits next to brock on the plane a few times and he takes him out to dinner once or twice and doesn't hit him as hard during scramble drills. brock feels like he's moving in a slight haze until his next heat rolls around. and nick finds him in the locker room again.

this time there's no resistance, brock sliding silently to his knees as the instinct tugging at the back of his mind is silenced. he's quiet as nick drives him home, head leaning against the window. he presses his mouth shut as nick grabs his arm to drag him out of the car. he bites his lip as nick messes up his carefully crafted nest. this time his mind is clear. he can feel every bruising hold, every sharp scratch, every aching bite. but nick's helping him, isn't he? brock's heard that it's supposed to hurt, even when you're with an alpha.

and there is some relief, when nick pushes in, when he rocks his hips back and forth in a smooth continuous notion, when he lightly trails his fingertips all over brock's body. and when his knot finally pops, it's the most relief brock has felt all day.

but then. the bite.

sheer piercing agony radiating out from brock's neck to every part of his body. he feels like he's going to faint, ears ringing and vision blacked out.

and it's okay, it's fine. nick helps him clean out the bloody mess left on the front of his throat, nicely placed for the whole world to see. brock purdy, officially claimed omega. of course he hasn't bitten nick back yet but they'll do that nick's next rut. right? and brock didn't actually ask to be mated but nick's just helping him and looking out for him, the way a good alpha would. nick says it's a dangerous league, that they're aren't many alphas like himself who would be willing to help such a low status omega. brock should consider himself lucky.

and so he lives his little mated life, alphas steering clear of him, even ones he used to call friends. nick scares them away with his dark glare and bared teeth. but that's alright because he just needs nick. all he needed was a good alpha, and now look how well things are going. soon enough nick's going to put a baby in him and then he won't have to worry about football at all. brock won't have to worry about players hitting him on the field, even though he lives for the adrenaline rush. he won't have to deal with leading anyone, even though that's all he's ever wanted in life. he won't have to deal with alphas cornering him when he's vulnerable, although only nick ever does.

but he's an alpha, he can take what he wants. and brock is his. his to use, his to rule, his to discard when he gets bored. and so if brock jumps when he feels those hands close around his waist, so what? so what if the locker room hasn't emptied yet and brock can feel the weight of their stares on his shoulders? so what if he has to wear more and more layers to cover up the marks that nick always leaves? so what if the cleaning staff have tried to slip him notes, asking about his screams?

he won't have to worry about any of that soon, now that his life's been taken away.

[queenie-ofthe-void]

A Desperate Fool - Part 12

Part 11

Last Time: Steve's struggling with Eddie being back in town, and Dustin just tries his best to help

~~~

Eddie’s been in Chicago for almost three months and Jeff’s only called once. They’d chatted for a few minutes before Eddie spilled all the beans about Steve. Jeff wasn’t all that surprised, which surprised Eddie in return, and when he told Jeff as much, his friend laughed. “It was only a matter of time, Eddie.” And he’d said it with such grace that Eddie felt the anxiety slough from his shoulders. Either with or without him, the band would be fine. 

Now, Eddie’s learned to savor the casual routine he and Dustin have established over the past month. It’s been nice, relaxing– normal.

While Dustin spends his days working from his home office upstairs, Eddie cooks, cleans, and avoids calls from his manager. Somedays Nancy and Jonathan invite him over for dinner. He’s also started meandering the neighborhood, discovering all the reasons Dustin picked here to settle down. Around the corner is a small game store which hosts DnD nights on Wednesdays and Magic the Gathering tournaments on Saturdays. It’s next door to a record shop and a small cafe that serves the best cranberry orange muffins Eddie’s ever tasted.

He’s starting to gain some of the weight back he lost, so the small amount of clothes he brought with him are starting to dig in. Dustin says it’s thanks to the home cooked meals and down time, now that he’s not partying every night. Cooking is another part of everyday living Eddie’s come to love. Steve had done all the cooking before, not just because Eddie didn’t know how, but because Steve genuinely enjoyed it. He doesn’t think his skills will ever be that good, but that doesn’t matter much. Eddie’s already halfway through a cookbook and hasn’t felt this proud of himself since he learned how to play.

It’s well into April when Dustin suggests renovating the downstairs guest bedroom into a temporary recording studio. Eddie considers it for a grand total of three hours before he calls his manager– much to their relief– to have his guitars and equipment shipped from LA on the promise of starting a new solo album. By the time it arrived, the room’s sound proofed with mounted wall hooks for each of his sweethearts. He’s also furnished it with a few plush couches and a black leather barstool beneath the hanging microphone.

This is where Eddie sits now, headphones pulled up and plugged in, his old-school acoustic swung across his back as he leans over a notebook scribbling out the lyrics falling muffled from his lips. He hums the melody, repeating the last verse to himself when there’s a soft poke on his shoulder. Startled, Eddie shouts and barely manages to catch his guitar before he tumbles off the barstool on top of it. Loose sheets scatter across the floor as he fumbles the notebook. He gathers as much as he can, but when he stands, he finds Dustin scanning some before he can snatch them away.

“Those are private, dude,” Eddie exclaims, shoving them unceremoniously into his pocket. Hopefully later he’ll be able to make out the writing through the wrinkles. 

“Yeah, seems like it,” Dustin replies. He avoids eye contact, shuffling back and forth, and picks at his fingernails. “So, are those–”

“New songs.”

“–breakup songs?”

Eddie sighs, rubs his hands down his face. Dustin’s eyes are on him when Eddie moves his hands away. He feels seen, overly scrutinized, much in the same way Max and Nancy first looked at him. Dustin’s the only kid who’ll talk to him, but Eddie’s been living here for two months now and on some level, it feels like they haven’t talked about anything. Stuff like what’s for dinner, shopping lists, TV shows, video games. Things that don’t really matter.

The studio’s suddenly claustrophobic, but as Eddie moves towards the door, a half-hearted bullshit reason to leave stuck in his throat, Dustin steps in front of him.

“You know Steve’s happy, right?”

Ok so they’re talking about it. Eddie’s been anticipating this since the phone call, but is still unprepared for the solid earnestness scrawled across Dustin’s face.

“Yeah, Nancy told me everything. About all of it.” Eddie crosses his arms, can’t help hunching in on himself. Big, loud, and obnoxious never worked around Dustin, who could match him step-for-step. And after his initial conversation with Nancy, all Eddie wants to do is hide– preferably here in Dustin’s basement. “She takes care of him, she’s practically obsessed with him, wants kids– the whole package.”

Bitterness coats his tongue, and Dustin doesn’t miss his seething tone. 

“She likes sports too,” Dustin adds, defensive. The kid’s always stood up to bullies to protect the people he loves. He used to do that for Eddie. Now Eddie’s alone on the opposite side of a chasm, wondering why he never considered what kind of relationship Dustin could have with Becky. 

“Nancy mentioned something about sports journalism.”

“Becky gets press tickets and front row seats. They go to Blackhawks and Cubs games all the time.” Tone rising, Dustin’s cheeks are flushed, hands clenched at his sides.

“That’s–” Eddie starts, but is interrupted.

“Has he called you?” Dustin shouts at him.

Eddie freezes, body coiled tight and ready to run, but also horribly, devastatingly confused.

“What?” Cold sweats break out down his spine, his hands tingle with tiny pinpricks. “Dustin, I don’t–” he wheezes, swallowing around the dryness in his mouth. “No, we haven’t talked at all.”

“Good. Right, yeah– that’s good.” Even though Dustin’s impeding stance doesn’t change, his tone is laced with uncertainty. 

“I swear,” Eddie pleads.

“I believe you,” Dustin heaves a great, heavy sigh, his body slumps. “Just– please don’t answer if he calls. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Eddie can’t help the snap of irritation. “Why?”

“Uhh,” Dustin’s voice drags out, dripping with defensive sarcasm that has Eddie deflating, “maybe because he’s planning a wedding with his new fiance and his ex showed back up out of fucking no where.”

“I know. Fuck, I know. I’m sorry.” Regret and shame crawl under his skin.

“You keep saying that, but it still doesn’t feel true.” 

His eyes are hot, the panic of confrontation bubbles up through his grief. “I want it to be true, Dustin, I’m trying to make it true. I know nothing I do will ever make up for what I’ve put you all through, but– fuck.” Eddie wipes at his misted eyes. “I’d give up everything if I had to. Everything I have, all the money and clothes, the parties and the awards. I’d grovel and I’d–”

He doubles over on a long exhale that lurches from his chest unrestrained. Eddie grounds himself by counting the checkered pattern on Dustin’s socks until his breathing evens out. 

“I’d give up Steve.” He almost vomits as the words leave his mouth, and at that moment he can’t tell if it’s the truth or not. “I just want my family again, Dustin– you and Nancy and Mike. I don’t want to be alone anymore. And if he’s truly happy with her, I don’t want to hurt him. He deserves to be happy, even if that means I never see him again.”

He stands up and sees Dustin’s crying now, soaking the tears into the sleeves of his sweatshirt. Years or minutes or days pass as he waits for Dustin to answer, to say fucking anything after Eddie just carved himself open and spilled his guts on the floor. He can’t imagine never seeing Steve again, never hearing the sound of his laugh or grazing his hands against the moles on his neck. 

Except if Steve’s actually happy– truly down-to-the-marrow-of-his-bones happy– like Dustin says, Eddie can’t stand in the way of that. He won’t. He’s already hurt his baby so much, he won’t ruin the rest of his life too.

The realization tips Eddie’s world on its axis, the foundation of his life crumbing beneath him. As he does his best to reorient himself, Dustin scoffs a wet chuckle. “There’s going to be so much groveling. Like, a shit ton of groveling.”

A wide, relieved grin breaks out across Eddie’s tear stained face as Dustin smirks. The tone is teasing, but they both know he means it. Eddie wasn’t lying, he’ll grovel on the ground until his knees are soaked in blood. Giving up Steve feels wrong to the depths of his soul, but he’ll do it. Eddie’s not promising he’ll move on, but he can let go. He’ll do whatever it takes to earn the love and respect of his family, and he’s willing to rebuild his entire life to do it. Reconstruct it into something softer, more mundane and normal and utterly filled with a new kind of love.

And when Dustin pulls him into a hug and squeezes the air from Eddie’s lungs, he can’t help but feel overjoyed at the thought he’s already started.

~~~

Part 13

Tag List!!!

@sadisticaltarts @5ammi90 @blacklegsanji21 @jaytriesstrangerthings @thewickedkat

@stripey82 @a-lovely-craziness

[oh-no-its-bird]

Silently willing my countless WIPS to magically finish and post themselves

[jdorian]

WIP Wednesday 💌

I've been slowly inching my way through this one the last couple of weeks, but on the bright side I feel like we're nearly there (except for the fact that it is looking to round out somewhere around 10k instead of the initially estimated 4k but what's new, really). anyway, here, have this tiny snippet for today.✨

“Tommy, wait.” Buck blurted out in a sudden panic, prompting Tommy to stop in his tracks and turn back from the doorway.

“Yeah?”

“I—” The words were hanging off of the very tip of his tongue, sticking to the roof of his mouth as he swallowed and tried to push them past his teeth, but the seconds were ticking by and he just stood there with his mouth agape, no sounds coming out, until: “Call me. W-when you get there, just- just call me.”

For a moment, there was a flicker of surprise flashing across Tommy’s face, before his features melted into a gentle smile.

“Of course. I’ll call you every day, alright?”

“Uh, y-yeah, alright.” Buck fisted the metal in his hand a little harder, trying to ground himself as he watched Tommy wrap his own hand around the doorknob, ready to leave.

“Goodnight, Evan.” His voice was soft like a caress against Buck’s skin and Buck had to close his eyes for a moment as it washed over him — by the time he opened them again, Tommy was gone.

“Night.” He breathed into the large, empty space of his apartment.

✨I have been tagged by and am tagging the wonderful @sunshinediaz @spagheddiediaz @jeeyuns @exhuastedpigeon @bidisasterevankinard

@diazsdimples @honestlydarkprincess @watchyourbuck @actualalligator @bucksbignaturals

@loveyouanyway @glorious-spoon mwuahhh 💛

[somewhereincairparavel]

imagine percy jackson, who actually got to live a long life in new rome with annabeth, sitting on the porch of his garden, he feels a gust of strong wind one morning of july 1, which had percy reminiscing about his playful, now childhood, rivalry with jason grace.

almost 50 years ago. back then, he was genuinely focused on proving himself, that he and jason sort of took their rivalry seriously in the beginning, before they became good friends. the way they glared at eachother, the way they'd made it a competition on who'd called their respective pegasuses faster, they way they almost seriously hurt one another because of possesion, and they way they had silly tension on who gets the first seat of the dinner table on the argo ii.

It all made an older percy laugh now, they were both such silly, silly teenagers, but only one of them stayed that way forever. without even realising it, percy's eyes stung with tears at the same time. jason died decades ago, yet the grief felt so new, like it happened yesterday. his friend never got to experience getting old and having grandkids like he wanted to, but percy did.

and for no reason, percy felt immense guilt. zeus was the god of justice, yet he found it fair to have his son die so young. It dawned on him, that the poor guy couldn't even make through highschool graduation.

percy could only hope now, that all of his friends, would together be able to reunite with jason in elysium one day. that is, if jason chose to permanently stay in elysium, a part of percy selfishly wished and prayed, that jason hadn't chosen rebirth.

to all of them, experiencing the gaia war with jason grace, had felt like a movie they'd acted in centuries ago. that's how long ago it felt like to them. but their memories with him, were as fresh as day. percy wishes that jason hadn't died right when they were warming up to eachother.