#fuck I love writing angst

[kentuckyfriedsatan]

ℭ𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔨𝔰 ℑ𝔫 𝔗𝔥𝔢 ℑ𝔠𝔢

《 Chapter 2 》

❚ Rating: M (updated to M to be safe)

❚ Pairing: Dew/Ifrit, Dew/Rain (end goal)

❚ Chapter word count: 829

❚ Tags: Angst, Emotional Hurt, Self-Loathing, touch starved Rain, touch starved Dew, Ifrit is a manipulative bitch in this one, I am so sorry for that I normally love him, Emotional Manipulation, Hurt/Comfort In later chapters, emotional abuse

❚ Summary: Rain, who is touch starved and secretly in love with the emotionally distant fire ghoul, struggles to ask for the affection he desperately needs.

Dew, who never talks about his feelings and avoids physical closeness, spends his time with Ifrit, who Rain couldn’t hate more.

Will Rain be strong enough to reach out to Dew and break through their mutual isolation, or risk losing the one person who might truly understand and love him.

Read it on Ao3 or here under the cut!

“What do you think you are doing?”

Dew’s heart stutters at the icy tone of Ifrit’s voice, his body freezing like a deer caught in the headlights. He had hoped, foolishly, for a moment of tenderness.

“I-I just thought…” His voice trembles, the words barely escaping his lips. All he wanted was a quick cuddle session, or at least a hug—anything really—after Ifrit had fucked him face down into the mattress, leaving him feeling used and discarded.

Dew slowly pulls himself back from the bed, his skin burning with shame. He had dared to believe, for just a second, that he could join Ifrit in some semblance of affection.

“Well, you thought wrong,” Ifrit snaps, his eyes cold and unyielding. “You think you deserve my attention? After I was kind enough to let you come on my cock? You useless whore!”

The words slice through Dew like a knife, each one a cruel reminder of his own insecurities. It's not the first time Ifrit has rejected him this way, but the familiar sting doesn't lessen the pain. In fact, it amplifies it, reaffirming the negative self-talk that haunts him constantly.

Hot tears prick at Dew’s eyes, blurring his vision. He scolds himself harshly for being so weak and pathetic, for daring to seek comfort where he knew there would be none. He bites down hard on his lower lip, forcing the tears back, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“You’re right,” Dew murmurs, his voice barely audible. “I’m sorry.” The apology tastes bitter on his tongue, but he can’t stop himself from saying it, from internalizing every cruel word Ifrit throws his way.

He knows that being with Ifrit, as degrading and painful as it is, feels better than the crushing weight of loneliness. He tells himself that he doesn't deserve more, that his pack is too good for him anyway.

Ifrit doesn’t say anything when he leaves the room and walks down the silent corridor.

In this quiet moment, Dew silently berates himself for his foolish hopes and dreams. He remembers the brief, fleeting touches with Rain, the soft looks. But those moments are distant memories, overshadowed by the harsh reality of his current existence. He hears rustling in the kitchen and instantly puts his walls back into place, he can’t be seen this weak.

“Do you ever… need someone?” Rain’s voice is soft, almost a whisper, but the question hits Dew like a physical blow. He blinks, caught off guard, feeling a flicker of something unfamiliar—a vulnerability he hadn’t felt in years.

“What do you mean?” Dew asks,, his voice sounding harsher than he intended. He tries to mask the sudden surge of emotions, to push down the gnawing emptiness that Rain’s words had unearthed.

Rain took a deep breath, and Dew can see the effort it takes for him to continue. “I mean, do you ever feel… alone?”

Alone.

The word echoes in Dew’s mind, stirring up memories he had long buried. For a brief moment, he feels exposed, his defenses crumbling. Alone.

He can see the flicker of vulnerability reflected in Rain’s eyes, but he quickly forced it down, replacing it with his usual cold demeanor. The kitchen is still dark, and Dew hopes the shadows hide the turmoil inside him.

“I have Ifrit,” Dew replies, the words hollow even to his own ears. The name leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, but it’s the only shield he has. Ifrit is his escape from the crushing loneliness, even if it meant enduring the pain and degradation.

For a split second, he sees a glimmer of disappointment in Rain’s eyes, and it hurt more than he cared to admit. Dewdrop turns away, the weight of his own emptiness pressing down on him. He wants to say more, to reach out and tell Rain how much he longes for someone who truly cares, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he retreats further into himself, hiding behind the lie that Ifrit was enough.

That’s why he walks back to him, back to Ifrit. And he begs to just stay, even if it’s just on the ground. He can’t be alone tonight, but even though the other fire ghoul is right there he feels loneliness.

Dew crawls into a corner of the room, pulling his knees to his chest. He wraps his arms around himself, trying to mimic the embrace he so desperately craves but is always denied. The tears he fought so hard to suppress finally spill over, silent sobs wracking his body as he mourns the love and kindness he believes he’ll never deserve.

Ifrit watches him for a moment, a smirk playing at his lips before he turns away, leaving Dew to his misery.

Alone in the dark, Dew’s thoughts drift to Rain once more. He wonders if things could ever be different, if he could ever find the strength to seek comfort and love from someone who might truly care. But those thoughts are fleeting, quickly replaced by the all-consuming belief that this is his fate, that he is destined to be alone.

[queen-of-hawkins-why-ler]

I think Byler hits so different as a ship because of how damn unlikely the circumstances are and also because the stakes are so high. Like, in what universe do you fall in love with your best friend over the course of ten years? And in what universe can you expect that love to be reciprocated? To feel those feelings and that love about someone you know so deeply must be terrifying, as is the idea of them rejecting you, which would be devastating but also fully expected.

Add onto that the fact that they are both gay in a time where being gay was taboo and just not seen as a genuine option. Mike and Will are hopelessly, desperately in love with each other—with their own best friends—and they both believe that this friendship that is so important to them comes under threat because of the love. Like, both boys probably partially resent themselves for even putting their relationship at risk by daring to have feelings for each other.

It’s so damn unlikely to have a slowburn romance with your best friend over the course of a lifetime. It’s even more unlikely for your best friend to reciprocate your feelings. It is the most unlikely thing of all for your seemingly straight best friend to surprise you by revealing that they are gay too and that they’re in love with you. Like… can you even imagine how intense it will be for Mike and Will to realize all of this in the span of a few seconds? They’re both banking on rejection and that their love is an impossibility. But in one swift kiss or confession, the truth will come out and the weight on both of their shoulders will be lifted.

Also, I simply can’t imagine how intense it would be to know that your best friend who you’ve been in love with as long as you can remember is in love with you back. It’s almost too good, too fantastic to be true even for straight couples and even for people in real life. Like, the reality is that most of us can’t even fathom how intense a love like that would be. It’s truly a once in a lifetime, romance of the century kind of thing. Add onto that the fact that neither Mike nor Will knows that the other is gay let alone reciprocates. The moment they realize will be so intense that I’m all out of words to use to be able to describe it. It will be indescribable.

[starry-bi-sky]

mmmmmm read a disciple shen yuan/shizun luo binghe fanfic about two days ago where the first chapter was the Immortal Conference arc, and SQQ was the one who had to be pushed into the abyss (he was still the villain) except Luo Binghe was refusing and was like, lowkey losing his mind about SQQ being so close to the edge. SQQ ended up having to be the one to fall in himself because of the system's punishment system. The rest of the fic is leading up to that moment. But like, MMM i've been obsessively thinking about that first chapter for DAYS ever since.

now i've been in svsss for a grand total of *checks watch* a week. but god obsessed with that. I want to write/read a fic where disciple SQQ goes a little nuts down there. Like keep all of the things that make SQQ, SQQ, but just. Throw in a little bit more trauma in there. A little bit of a mental break. Let him go a little nuts as a treat. Just a tad unhinged. I wanna see him go, just a little, "god fuck it, i've tried so hard to change this shitty story's outcome and it feels like everything i've done has been for nothing. I'm going to die in this world no matter what I do, I've been doomed from the start, so might as well die the way I want to." and he just, breaks a little! Under all the stress.

He still retains the traits that makes shen yuan, shen yuan, like his overwhelming kindness. But he's just! yk. A little less patient. Paranoid. Jumpy. Colder. A little more aloof and closed off. A little more Shen Jiu. He's no asshole child abuser, but he was a Number One Hater in his past life and he's leaning into that old habit a little more now.

(On a totally coincidental not-at-all related note, there's not enough SJ-and-SY-are-the-same-people fics out there that i've found. This is totally unrelated...)

The Endless Abyss turns the mind into an over-sharpened blade, and SQQ is both fascinated and perhaps a little excited to explore a place that doesn't have a lot of info on it in the mortal realm, but still terrified out of his mind. And he's no Luo Binghe, he doesn't have the sheer brute strength and power to just bulldoze his way through, so he has to be a lot more sneaky and cunning if he wants to survive.

The fic itself role-swapped LBH and SQQ so that SQQ was the half-demon (which lowkey fucks) and LBH the human, but I'm equally-if-not-more obsessed with the idea that LBH remains the half-heavenly demon and SQQ the human. If only because I keep thinking about SQQ befriending some demons (particularly and specifically a group of succubi) and they grow very attached to this Human Cultivator so through magic plot stuff they create some kind of seal/illusion/talisman that makes SQQ appear as a demon because a human cultivator in the endless abyss may as well be the equivalent of putting a giant neon target on your back.

And iirc Shen Jiu was taught demonic cultivation by that one guy(?? i've only been here a week so im not caught up in ALL of the lore yet) so that could totally happen here.

(On the other end of the realms, poor Shizun Luo Binghe is just. losing his fucking mind over losing his most precious and beloved disciple. About .5 seconds from burning down the peaks himself. somebody sedate him.)

The Endless Abyss sucks and SQQ is having a really terrible time and can feel himself going lowkey mad, but also holy shit look at all this WORLD-BUILDING. look at all this flora and fauna, and oh if he had the equipment for it he'd be writing all of this down. ALL OF IT. He was kinda-sorta-already planning on never leaving the Abyss as some sort of fucked up self-exile and self-preservation thing, but now he might? actually just?? never leave if he can help it, like he lowkey likes it down here.

anyways the next time anyone ever sees SQQ again he's got hair so long its almost touching the ground and he's either in rags and half-feral or he's been completely dolled up by his adoptive succubi sisters and still about three seconds from biting anyone who tries to touch him. (he's also lowkey trying to book it back down to the abyss even if he has desperately missed all of his friends and shizun)

[beetlethebug]

consider,,,a lucanis who is in love with emmrich, a spite who is in love with rook, a rook in love with emmrich, and emmrich who is in love with all three but wants lucanis, spite, and rook to get together because he feels he is not the type of man any of them deserve...

bonus points for spite being the one to realize just what sort of love quadrilateral is going on and is the one to get them all together.

[ghost-proofbaby]

SO SCARLET (IT WAS MAROON)

CHAPTER TEN: RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

DID YOU EVER HEAR ABOUT THE GIRL WHO GOT FROZEN? TIME WENT ON FOR EVERYBODY ELSE - SHE WON'T KNOW IT.

☆ pairings: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

☆ warnings: no use of y/n, strong language, angst, minors dni

☆ WC: 5.9K+

☆ A/N: lyrics used towards end of the chapter belong to the following sleep token songs (in order of appearance) - chokehold, ascensionism, and take me back to eden. 10/10 recommends listening to them <3

thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for the divider!

masterlist

When you wake up, you’re shocked to find cold sheets beside you. 

Your hand stretches out on instinct, joints cracking as you barely slip into consciousness, and it’s the one thing capable of jolting you awake. These aren’t your sheets (they’re too nice to be your sheets), this isn’t your bed (there’s a cologne across the fabric that no longer stains your own mattress), and the bed is cold. Not even whispering of the warmth of who should be in bed with you, no trace of him having been tangled up with you the entire night to be found. 

Eddie had been here. You know he had been here. Last night couldn’t have possibly been a dream, or a hallucination, or some cruel twisting of reality done by your brain out of the terrible yearning that is bubbling back up to the surface of your chest. 

He had been here. And now, he’s gone. 

It reminds you too much of those mornings you’d awake while he was on tour. The mornings you’d roll over in a shared bed, only to find the other owner was still a country away. Mornings where you took your coffee cold and alone, and took your updates from some online source posting blurry photographs of the man you were waiting up on rather than from his own two lips. 

Bile almost rises in your throat until you properly sit up, and you properly remember. 

Eddie. Kisses. His guitar. His song. Whispered falsetto of taking aim, painful words about the way love is a weapon. 

You weren’t stupid. You weren’t dense. And Eddie Munson was a rockstar, not an actor. 

The room is still dreary, faintly lit with the wisps of daylight peering through the curtains over the window. You can’t tell if it’s stormy out, or it’s early out, but neither really matters. Neither really explains why you’ve woken up in a bed alone, after a night of playing pretend. 

Eddie’s lips, trailing down your skin. Eddie’s hands, bruising your hips and holding you to him in all the ways you begged him to. Eddie’s legs, entangling with yours beneath sheets he used to not be able to afford and blankets that kept the rest of the world as far away from the two of you as possible through the night. 

You swear, for just a moment, your back is still warm with the imprint of his chest curling against you. 

With every movement you make, you wait for Eddie to magically appear out of thin air. To jump up in front of you, to smile at you with that toothy grin and greet you with some ridiculous good morning. You keep waiting as you kick off the covers, and as your feet meet his cold floors, and as you make your way to the unfamiliar bathroom attached to the bedroom. 

Waiting, waiting, waiting. 

You sort of fucking hate waiting. Especially when it came to Eddie.

There’s no sign of him in the apartment. It becomes clear once you’ve brushed your teeth, almost hesitating to use the toothbrush available until you realize how ridiculous that would be. He had his tongue down your throat last night, amongst other places – he could bare for you to borrow his toothbrush just this once. You make your way out of the room, down the hallway, to the kitchen. 

Nothing. No Eddie. No breakfast. No reminders to call Matt and no ambulances on speed dial. 

You feel like a fool. 

“Talk about karma, hm?” you mumble to yourself as you lean against his kitchen island, staring at the fridge, weighing your choices. 

You could stay, make yourself breakfast, enjoy the luxuries at your disposal. 

Or you could leave. You could get out now while he’s not here to stop you, erase the night from your skin and memory. There’s still time to pretend that none of it ever happened. There’s still time to scrub the stain he’s once again left across not just your skin, not just your mind, but your entire existence. A newly reopened wound, and you still had time to make amends and stitch it right back up. No blood stains necessary this time around. And things were always easier the second time around, right? 

Wrong. 

Something keeps you rooted in spot. Maybe it’s the nostalgia, wrapping its way up around your bones. Maybe it's the wishful thinking, the smallest of hopes that Eddie will eventually burst through the front door and wash away the doubts. 

Or maybe it’s the post-it note that you’d initially missed, barely clinging to the surface of the fridge as it leaves behind a sticky residue. 

Went to the studio, I’m in trouble with Matt :( Help yourself to anything in the apartment. If you leave, just make sure to lock up behind you. I’ll text once I’m done. 

It’s written in messy penmanship, the font of someone in a rush. The phrase ‘if you leave’ is only slightly neater, as if written slowly and given more thought than anything else said. 

As if Eddie might have hesitated, for just a moment, at the thought of you leaving once more. 

You’re probably imagining things. You’re probably making up that difference in your mind, projecting onto what you want him to feel so desperately. It shouldn’t make a difference in if you stay or if you go. It shouldn’t. 

And yet, it does. 

The hours pass by slowly. Morning bleeds into the afternoon as you keep yourself entertained and take Eddie’s encouragement in full stride; you make yourself a decent enough breakfast from what food he does have in the fridge, and you almost make a note of scolding him for having little to nothing in there. But then you remember that it isn’t your place anymore, and your toast is nearly burning, and so the mental note of any slaps on the wrist is pushed away. You wander about the living room, taking in what photos he does have displayed. There’s not much – a few awards, some nice recounts of the band’s successes, but nothing that is Eddie. No photos of Hawkins. No photos of friends. No photos of Wayne. You hadn’t realized just how empty, how vacant, the place had felt until you properly inspected it all. 

There’s only one trace left behind of Eddie. The man you once knew and loved, not Eddie the Rockstar. Eddie, the caring best friend. Eddie, the doting boyfriend. Eddie, the one you’d once spent all your days weaving a future with, threads intertwined and dreams perfectly aligned. 

A single photograph of just him and Gareth. Or at least, what’s been framed to appear to be of just him and Gareth. 

Eddie, front and center. Gareth to his left. At a quick glance, it seems like one more homage to the band, maybe even to his friends. 

It’s more than that, though.

Your hands can’t work fast enough as they grab the frame, not even thinking clearly about how Eddie might feel if you rip the back off the nice piece of memoriam. Your heart is racing out your chest, breaths starting to come out in harsher and harsher puffs as you struggle to flip the clips and remove the backing cardboard. 

You find exactly what you knew you’d find. Exactly what you’d dreaded you’d find. 

Yourself, staring back at you. 

Creased over so purposefully, the section of the photo containing you has been prestigiously folded to appear as though you’d never existed. You, with a fool’s grin and eyes squinted out of appearance. You, hand on Eddie’s shoulder as you’d lifted yourself up dramatically on your tippy toes, body full of pride beyond the point of containment. 

A version of you that you can remember crystal clearly. 

“Wait, wait!” you had squealed, the stick of beer on concrete floors meeting the rubber sole of your shoes audible as you’d ran across the bar, “Don’t you dare take that photo without me, assholes!” 

You’d nearly slipped in a puddle of only God-knows-what as you’d made it to where the boys were gathering, but Eddie’s hands had already been there to catch you before you’d met an untimely demise. 

“Woah, woah, woah,” his face twitched with concern, but his smile wasn’t fading, “Trying to kill yourself there, Sugar?” 

“No, I’m trying to get into the photo with my favorite people,” you’d corrected, looking around Eddie to shoot a smile Gareth’s way, “Gotta make sure they don’t forget me in the history books in ten years, when they put you guys’ into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.” 

Gareth snorted immediately, shaking his head, his own head of curls bouncing with the movement, “Right. I’ll believe it when I see it.” 

Eddie’s hands left your waist, leaving you to bounce on the balls of your feet as you looked back to Jeff still poised with a camera. “Don’t be such a pessimist, Gar.” 

“Don’t call me Gar.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Should I use the full nickname? Would you prefer Gare-Bea-”

“Okay,” Eddie cut you off with impeccable timing, putting his hands out between the two of you, “Can we not kill each other after we’ve just played our biggest show yet?” 

Biggest show yet, indeed. Everyone had come out to show love to the boys you’d been rooting on from the hot floors of garages for several months at that point. More than just a few drunks being forced to listen to the live band playing at their favorite joint, and more than just a few friends who’d spared their evening to show support. 

Everyone was there. The bar had even made an exception for a few of the boys in Eddie’s Hellfire club, and that alone had already gone to Dustin Henderson and Mike Wheeler’s heads. 

“She’s right!” Dustin added without any prompting, standing to the side and looking just as giddy as you did, “You guys are gonna be goddamn rockstars!” 

“Language, Henderson!” Steve Harrington scolded, scowling at the younger boy, “Jesus, we let you guys come to a bar one time to support Eddie, and you immediately start acting up-”

“Can we please just take the photo?” Jeff waved the camera as he looked between you, Eddie, and Gareth, “Please?” 

Surprisingly, every single person listened. 

Gareth resumed his cool-guy position, clearly trying to not show just how excited he was. Arms crossed as he didn’t move any closer to be more fully in the photo, offering the limited effort of leaning in. 

You knew he was just playing it cool. You’d seen the smile light up his face, even behind the drumset, the moment the boys had seen how large of a crowd they’d garnered. 

Dustin jumping up and down beside you, waving his hand, trying to just get a glimpse of his blurry palm in the shot. 

No one could even be mad at him, the air was too thick with excitement. He was only exerting it the way all of you craved to do so badly, guided by his youth and genuine love for his friends – his mentors. 

And then there was you and Eddie. Eddie wasn’t hiding his joy at all, those dimples you so adored in full throttle as he looked at the camera with starry eyes. All that hard work, all those late nights, finally beginning to come to fruition. He didn’t have to say it – you knew. You knew he was beginning to see the shape of a rockstar forming that you’d always been able to view. Seeing himself in the spotlight that you’d always shone on him, blind faith and all. 

He was proud, and you were prouder. 

On your tippy toes, hand curling around Eddie’s shoulder like an anchor as your chin tilted up and your teeth flashed to the camera. You probably looked ridiculous – you felt ridiculous. But there was no time for some elegant pose or faux cool act like Gareth or Jeff. You were bleeding out all your pride and all your happiness, and it was all for the warm body beneath your palm. The boy you’d be holding dearly when it was all said and done at the end of the night, letting him collapse into your solace as he giggled and muttered his disbelief at how well the night went once you were both safely back in his bed. 

“Say cheese!”

Jeff was all but ignored, only Gareth loudly proclaiming the word through gritted teeth. 

You squeezed Eddie’s shoulder a bit tighter, and he smiled a bit wider as you whispered, “I’m so proud of you, Rockstar.”  

You didn’t realize you were crying until the first tear drops onto the photo, narrowly missing your overly exuberant face and landing instead on the back of the part of the photo unseen from this point of view.

The part that was on display. The part that Eddie would let the world see. 

The tears can’t become more; you can’t let them. You weren’t going to break down in sobs in the middle of Eddie’s apartment. Not after the night before, not after what felt like the precipice of progress. Not after the beginning of what felt like a peace offering. 

Closure. You were both so close to closure, and yet had never felt further. 

Instead of putting back the backing of the frame like you should, you pull out the entire photograph, slowly unsticking it from the glass so you can unfold it to witness the entire picture. You thought it might feel wrong to see this version of you standing beside that version of Eddie, but it doesn’t. If anything, it makes the burn of nostalgia worse. 

The night before, Eddie had asked you a question. 

“Do you know how many times I played this moment back over in my head?”

And you didn’t know. You never found out, never bothered to ask him for the answer. But you couldn’t but wonder if he knew how many times you’d played moments like the one in this photograph back, over and over in your mind, until it drove you to madness. Just how many late nights in that lonesome apartment, haunted by the memories, it had finally taken before you’d had no choice but to move. How many breakdowns had been spurred on in public when you’d heard his song playing in a gas station, or you’d seen a magazine that he’d occupied the smallest corner of the cover of. 

How many times, during those moments, you’d thought back to nights like the one in this picture, and wished you could go back. 

Even now, even with progress on the horizon, you want to go back. Everything in you screams for this time rather than the present. You want small crowds in the Hideout and an overly hyper Dustin Henderson to annoy you all. You want Eddie kissing you in the bar’s bathrooms, everything reeking of stale beer, and you want the only interruption to be the others banging on the door to let you know it was time to go, not Eddie’s cell phone ringing with a call from his agent. 

You want, and you want, and you want. 

For an innocence neither of you can return to. For a life both of you left behind in ashes. For a love that had seemed so infinite, not as though it might be a momentary time bomb waiting to blow. 

You want to take past you by the shoulders, and shake her so hard that there’s a chance she’ll listen to you when you demand she just enjoy it.

Enjoy all the late nights spent in diner booths with all the boys, none of them witness to the pathway of a heart that Eddie’s thumb is drawing on top of your hand. Enjoy all the grand firsts, and enjoy how everything feels like the ends and beginnings of your world when you’re that young. Enjoy Eddie while you can, even when he annoys you, even when he finds a way to get perfectly on your very last nerve. Enjoy it. 

Because one day, it would all be gone, and you’d be crying over a photograph in the apartment of the man you once thought you were going to marry. 

Now is the time to stop. Now is the time to put the photo back, gather your things, then leave. Put away the shovel and walk away from the grave of the past. 

You can’t do it. 

It turns into some wild scavenger hunt, lacking in guidelines and etiquette as you search through the rest of the apartment. Not truly snooping, but certainly scouring every corner for any other possible remnants of you. Small markings, brutal stains. Proof you weren’t the only one left maimed at the end of the day. Proof you weren’t the only one stained. 

Nothing else is found, because nothing else in the apartment is seemingly as personal as that one photograph. 

You’d noticed the apartment was barren, but hadn’t taken the time to see just how far the emptiness went. His living room, his kitchen, his bedroom – not a single sign of the Eddie you once knew. Only the new Eddie. The Eddie with awards, with a reputation, with adoring fans. 

The Eddie that you couldn’t tell if you really cared for all that much.

The first sign of life only creeps into your vision when you crack back open that door to his makeshift studio. Guitars he once only spoke of owning, a keyboard that tells you he’d finally taught himself how to play piano rather than only speaking about it as a one-day, notebooks and loose-leaf pages scattered across the coffee table that’s situated in front of the comfortable couch. 

It reminds you of the coffee table back in the Munson trailer. Of his desk, back in Hawkins. 

There’s no sporadic Hellfire campaigns across the pages, though. No small doodles in the corners of the crumbled pages. 

Your curiosity gets the better of you as you take the same seat you’d occupied the night before (or technically, the earlier morning). No guitar fills your lap – only the weight of the first notebook you could get your hands on. He’d told you to help yourself to anything in the apartment, and he’d never said that the studio was explicitly off-limits. 

There’s rings of coffee stains across the front of the notebook, half the pages visibly used from the side while the rest stay pristine and uniform. Before you can overthink it, you’re flipping the cover of the spiral notebook open, holding your breath as you read across the first line of penned words that you find. 

When we were made, it was no accident. 

Lyrics. They’re clearly lyrics. You keep reading, out of order as your eager eyes drink it all in. 

I’d turn my walls to gold to bring you home again.

You turn the page. You refuse to linger. You refuse to over analyze. 

MAKE IT REAL. ‘Cause anything’s better than the way I feel right now. 

The first three words are angry, aggressive, large. Screaming off of the page. And the remaining ones are small, almost cursive as they flow together like a whisper. Like the writer couldn’t handle telling the world something so vulnerable, so loudly as he had his demand.

Below, a phrase takes up an unexpected amount of space, circled around several times, a few stray question marks penned around the edges.

Diamonds in the trees, pentagrams in the night sky.

You recall all of Eddie’s doubt when you’d interrupted him writing a song last night. The muttering to himself, questioning what the words might even mean. It seems that was not an occurrence saved solely for you – it seems, when he’s been left to his own devices, the process always remains. 

You turn the page again. 

This time, you’re met with the largest conglomerates of lyrics yet. Spreading across the available lines preset for him, but also spiraling about the page. Written in the margins, forced to fill the gaps between the lines. There’s a sinking feeling in your gut before you even read the lyrics, based on the title alone – Take Me Back to Eden. 

I dream in phosphoresces, bleed through spaces. See you drifting past the fog.

You’re holding your breath again. 

I’m a winged insect, you’re a funeral pyre. 

Your eyes wander further down the page. 

I need you to see me for what I have become.

The word become is angrily underlined, over and over, until the pen had torn through the page in the slightest. 

Something rises up within you, and in a panic, you jump to the bottom of the page. 

I guess it goes to show, does it not? That we’ve no idea what we’ve got until we lose it. 

The first fatal blow – you can practically hear Eddie’s voice singing the line to you. 

And no amount of love will keep it around, if we don’t choose it. 

Another blow. Flashes of simpler times. Times when Eddie was yours, when the world didn’t lay claim to him the same way your own shaking palms would. 

No amount of self-sought fury will bring back the glory of innocence. 

It doesn’t matter how small he’s written it. No matter how tiny and insignificant he attempted to make the line, it cuts deeper than any knives that have ever passed through your flesh before. Deeper than the knife of losing him, so terribly slow. Deeper than the knife of hearing Corroded Coffin in public for the first time, playing out of someone’s car on the street as they listened to the Alternative Rock station. Deeper than the knife of burying his mother’s ring at the back of your closet, no longer yours to wear but somehow still yours to keep. Deeper than the knife of seeing him sitting there, in your office, completely unaware for the first time in two years. 

You slam the notebook shut before you can end up bleeding all over the pages, tears gathering once more and wounds all ripped back open mercilessly. 

The glory of innocence. 

All the reels of memories that had hit you as you’d held the photo in the living room come barreling back, striking you down, hitting you exactly where it hurts. 

Because he had felt it too. He had experienced it too. 

The nostalgia, the want for the past, the need to go back in time when things were simple – innocent. When the stakes were low and love was more than just a ghost wandering through your graveyard in passing. 

Self-sought fury. 

All the headlines, all the self-destruction. Every news article that had chipped away at the great Rockstar’s reputation. It hadn’t been the Eddie you’d known, just as you’d immediately thought; it was a new version of him, a new shell of him, seeking out damage wherever his furious hands could grasp it. 

But you’d never self-imploded. You’d never gotten your fury out, never got to kiss strangers in bars or destroy hotel rooms to move past all that you had lost. You’d been sitting in silence, a brewing pique that you’d let fester for far too long. All the hurt, all the fury, all the heartbreak. 

You didn’t have songs to write about all that. You didn’t have notebooks filled to the brim with those emotions. 

All you had was a shovel, and a deep hole inside yourself that you never thought you’d excavate again. Deep, russet brown eyes that had once lit the pavement for your future, now patronizing your past from the grave. 

A grave you hadn’t been digging alone, apparently. Worlds apart, and you two still had been seemingly in sync with the murder of who Eddie Munson once was. 

But the grave is excavated now, and you don’t think too much as you all but sprint out of the room, a clear destination in mind, that damn notebook in hand. 

—

Google is your greatest friend, your greatest tool, in the end. 

You don’t have the right connections at first. No numbers saved in your phone that you could call for the information, no emails beyond Matt to reach out to. And if there’s anything you’ve learned in working in a business where emails were the sole form of communication, it’s that no one would reply to you as quickly as Eddie had been. 

You didn’t have time. So you decided you’d already crossed a line, and you’d scoured the address of the recording studio that Corroded Coffin uses. 

You’d almost lost hope until you’d seen a paparazzi photo of him leaving said studio. Most news outlets had clearly been paid to keep hush about the location, but some were still the scum of the Earth, and some had left behind evidence. It took more effort on your part than expected, and more scrolling through fan forums than you were proud of, but you’d found it. 

You’d found the address where you would find Eddie Munson. 

Hell hath no self-sought fury like a muse scorned, you suppose. 

That’s what had hurt the most. In hindsight, you’d always known he’d write about you one day. He was an artist, and he had always pulled inspiration from his real life experiences. You’d just always been under the assumption that when the day came, the words on the page may be a happier tune. Something softer, something less hurtful. 

He wasn’t even insulting you, but it certainly felt like he was mocking you. 

You’re blinded by pain as you storm through the front door of the surprisingly small studio, finally feeling the need to lash out after two long years. Two long years of silent misery, silent suffering. You’re no longer the same person who had taken the cowardly way out. There is no instinctive running away from this, no gathering up your existence and disappearing from his life. 

This time, you want to fight. You want to scream at him all that you had felt as well. You wanted him to know the damage done, whether it was the right response or not. 

It probably wasn’t. And there was probably something to be said about the fact that this time, you were willing to fight with him over it. 

“Good afternoon, ma’am,” a young receptionist greets you from the front desk, “Do you have an appointment?” 

“Nope.”

She doesn’t deserve your venom, but she’s getting it straight out of your clipped tone regardless. You’re not here to play niceties with her – you’re here to see Eddie. 

She’s clearly taken back from your straight-forward answer, “Oh, I see. Unfortunately, the studio is currently occupied, but we can-”

“I know the studio’s occupied,” you reply blandly, eyes looking for the elevator, “I’m here to see the bastard currently occupying it.” 

“I- excuse me?” 

You spot the elevator, feet working faster than your mouth as you start to walk over to it, “I said, I’m here to see Eddie Munson. I know he’s in the studio currently, I know him-”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“You’re not really in the business of letting me do anything-”

“Ma’am.” 

You hadn’t noticed the security guard until his hand comes down on your shoulder. The receptionist girl is wide-eyed, looking nervous enough that if you weren’t in the middle of your own spiral, you might feel bad. 

“Let go of me,” you shakily demand, standing still under his hold, “I just need to speak with Ed-”

“No one goes in there without permission from the band or their management,” the man gruffly replies. He may have a good foot on you in height, and the stretch of his muscles beneath the plain black t-shirt might be impressive, but you’re almost convinced by the adrenaline racing through your veins that you could take him. One swift kick of the legs, and you could get to the elevator – you could get to Eddie.

Fight with Eddie. Call Eddie out for all the pain he’d let fester within you for far too long. Probably not even realizing you were calling yourself out in the same breath. 

“Then fucking call them,” you snap, reaching up to swat away his hand, “Call them, and tell them my name-”

“We’ve been given strict instructions to not interrupt them-”

“I could give two shits if we’re interrupting!” you finally yell, fulling tearing yourself away from the strange man’s grasp, “Fucking call Eddie, and tell him-”

It’s the sudden call of your name that breaks the tense moment entirely. Not Eddie’s voice, not even Matt’s voice, but a different voice from your past that has hardly changed.

Standing before you is Gareth Emerson, almost looking entertained at the current exchange happening. 

“She’s with us, man,” he chokes out, clearly holding back laughter as he locks eyes with you, “I can take her back up.” 

“Are you sure?” the security guard presses, looking at you with narrowed eyes, “If this is some insane groupie, Matt will kill me if-”

“I’m not a fucking groupie!” 

You have no reason to be so angry, so defensive. But you’re already a wounded animal, and you’re primed to bite at the slightest inconvenience. 

The wounds of the past are gushing, and being reduced to nothing more than an insane groupie is salt in the blood. Callous, burning, hurtful. 

You’re not just a groupie. 

“She’s not a groupie,” Gareth echoes after you, and his words are far more effective. The guard takes a step back, and Gareth finally lets out a snort that he tries to cover with a cough, “C’mon, Hellfire. Let’s take you upstairs before you burn this whole place to the ground.” 

You swallow down any shock at the old nickname, and you rush to join Gareth’s side, being sure to knock an elbow into his side on your way past him. 

“No one even calls me that anymore,” you mutter, still half-angry, guns still ready to begin blazing in Eddie’s direction once he’s in your sight. 

“Maybe that’s because you haven’t been around the only people that did call you that,” he points out, tone entirely unaffected by your elbow.

“You guys didn’t trademark Hellfire.”

“No, but we sure as Hell made a name for it back in Hawkins.” 

You two stop in front of the elevator, and neither of you make a move to press the call button. You’re all deep breaths, trying to settle yourself as Gareth continues to stare at you. 

“You haven’t changed one bit, you know.” 

His words have you looking up sharply, brows crinkling as you let them sink in, “Excuse me?” 

“I thought you might have changed,” he says, face softening, “You know, the years and city changed you or something. But you’re still… still that same girl we knew. All fiery, always ready for a fight.” 

His last sentence is laced with a bit of sarcasm, some light-hearted joking you hadn’t realized you missed until you’re face to face with it. 

You swallow hard, and you know your own face melts to match his, “That… I… I have changed. That guard was just being a dick.” 

“He was doing his job.”

“Yeah, well,” you sigh, feeling the wisps of fury slip out of your grasps. You almost feel like a toddler, prepared to stomp your foot just to emphasize a losing argument. “He should do his job worse.” 

“And you say you’ve changed,” Gareth teases, bumping his shoulder to yours, “Bullshit, Hellfire. You just let the suits at your job get to you. Maybe you should stick around this time, remember who you were.” 

The words shouldn’t make your chest tighten, but they do. 

Who you were.

Leaving behind Eddie meant more than just leaving behind a failed relationship. It meant leaving everyone. And that included Gareth. That included the version of you that you’ve missed so terribly today that you’ve gone grave-digging, pulling back all emotions to the service. It’s not just anger, it’s not just nostalgia. It’s something deeper and something you can’t erase. A stain on the deepest parts of you that you can’t rid yourself of, even if you’d wanted to. 

Neither of you have pressed the elevator button yet. 

It’s impulsive, but there’s a decision to be made that you won’t overthink. You’re brimming with impulsivity anyways, “Give me your phone number.”

“What?” 

“Give me your number,” you repeat yourself, already digging out your cell phone as you balance Eddie’s notebook in your other hand, “And I’ll stick around this time.” 

You don’t necessarily mean it in the same way he implies, but you mean it in the way that counts. 

You hand your phone over to his waiting palm, and for a moment, it feels like a weight has lifted. 

Even if it all burns down with Eddie. Even if you find the closure you’ve been so desperately seeking out with him, it doesn’t mean you have to leave the others behind. People like Gareth, like Grant, like Jeff – there’s still room for them, somewhere in your new life. You had grown up together practically, at least during the years that had counted, and there was no need to erase them from your history. 

You could find a way. You had to find a way. 

Compartmentalize, rationalize. Justifications and explanations were plentiful. You would find a way to meet the you that once existed and the you that was left behind in the rubble, somehow, someway. 

When Gareth hands you back the phone, there’s a smile twitching in the corners of his mouth, “We should meet up for dinner sometime. I know the rest of the guys, Jeff and Grant, they miss you. And we know this killer pizza place.” 

You don’t fight your returning smile, “Yeah. We should. I think I’d really like that.” 

“Right,” he claps, looking around to clearly see if the guard and receptionist are still watching. They’re momentarily distracted, it seems, by some sort of delivery driver, “Well, I’ll leave you to it. Our studio’s on the third floor.”

“Wait,” his finger has already jabbed at the call button, the sounds of an elevator creaking on its quick descent to you sounding from behind the metal doors, “Aren’t you coming back up with me?” 

“Oh, God, no,” Gareth’s nose scrunches, and his overgrown hair bounces as he shakes his head, “I think I’ve had just about enough of Eddie for the day. The rest of the guys left about an hour ago, anyways, and I’m guessing you two might want some privacy?” You nod at his questioning tone, “Perfect. Then, in that case – third floor, like I said.”

“Thank you, Gareth,” you blurt out, fighting down all the nostalgia. Part of you is aching – part of you just wants to see the other boys again, no longer needing the fight with Eddie, “I- I missed you guys too, for what it’s worth.” 

“We know,” he jokes back, although there’s something in the way he says it that makes you think that maybe they didn’t know that. He finally glances at the notebook in your hands that you’d nearly forgotten about, lively eyes turned simply sad. “Just go and give him Hell, yeah? You’re not the only one who's lost themselves.” 

There’s no chance to ask what Gareth might mean as a ding sounds and the doors slide open. The boy that you have genuinely and sincerely missed nods his head, signaling for you to get in, and you do just that. Mentally preparing yourself with one last gulp of air, one last look at Gareth, before you ready your boxing gloves once more. 

You’re not the only one who's lost themselves.

The doors slide shut, and you punch the button for the third floor. 

eddie's taglist:@capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @mediocredreams @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin

@ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87

@thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea@kellsck

@cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking

@witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore

@mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog

@vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria @loveryanax @stylexrepp

@princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

@writinginthetwilight @trixyvixx @kittydeadbones @munson-addict @bluejeangenies

@cryingglightningg @joannamuns9n @missmarch-99 @rhirojo @findmeincorneliastreet

[misteria247]

Okay but Peri drawing a family portrait when he's small. He puts his all into it, uses his best crayons and paper. Taking his time to make sure that it's perfect with his childish scribbling and wobbly lines and bright colors. Once he finishes he flys clumsily around the castle, looking for a certain someone. He sees his dad, Cosmo and asks where this person is and is told to go find Wanda and he continues on. After searching he finally spots his mom who's talking to the person he's been looking for. Excitedly chirping out-

"Timy-! Timy-!"

Timmy and Wanda look up only for Peri to stumble into his beloved big brother, vibrating in excitement. Timmy smiles and asks Peri what's up, just as Cosmo comes into the room and joining Wanda's side. Curious about his youngest's excitement. Peri beams and holds out his drawing, proud and a bit shy. Timmy takes it and is immediately feeling his throat get tight. As he takes in his little brother's drawing of their family, with him and Peri holding hands and childish writing of "my bes frend!" staring back at him.

Timmy will deny it till the very end that he cried from how touched he was by his baby brother's gift. Even years later when his memories are gone, he's never gotten rid of the drawing. Not understanding what it's supposed to be, but deep within his heart being unable to part from it because he knows on some primal level that it's one of his most precious gifts. Despite the giver of it being nothing more than a fuzzy, unattenable dream.

[dumplingsjinson]

List of “they’re fake dating but are crossing way too many lines to be considered fake anymore” prompts

Character A’s arm around Character B’s waist, subconsciously keeping them close; glaring at people who try to get close to Character B. 

Heart twisting uncomfortably in Character A’s chest when they see Character B’s eyes lighting up when they’re talking to someone else, so much so Character A has to tear their eyes away to calm themselves down. The reminder of fake, fake, fake repeats in Character A’s head. 

Seeking for Character B’s hand subconsciously, intertwining their fingers, palm pressed against palm; snug and warm, the feeling of never wanting to let go almost overwhelming. But this is fake be damned — for now, it’s all about the comfort. (It becomes a habit.) 

Drunken kisses. God, the drunken kisses, with Character B’s fingers in Character A’s hair and Character B perched in their lap, kissing them with no restraint; things getting heated, Character A’s hands slipping under Character B’s shirt and earning a slight shiver from them. All the while, Character A could only wish Character B would kiss them like this when they’re sober. Character A lets that thought linger until they both fall asleep in each other’s arms after kissing way too many times to count because they can’t seem to get enough of each other. 

Late night phone calls or endless text messages at two in the morning, never wanting the conversation to end. It makes Character A wonder, but they stop themselves before these thoughts spiral out of their control. 

The thoughts of wanting Character B in a way they can’t have them becomes more frequent. They know it’s only going to break them by thinking like this, but they continue to entertain the idea of it; of how it would be like to call Character B theirs, for real. (It’s unhealthy, so fucking unhealthy, but they can’t help it.) 

Kisses becoming longer; more desperate, more passionate, with no need for alcohol. It burns to have Character B kiss them like they mean it; like there’s supposed to be something there, but they push it down because this is fake. It’s fake. This is all an act. (Character A convince themselves, at least for a little while more.)

Gazing at each other like they’re in love with each other, even though the both of them know they’re not in love with each other (or maybe denial is more blissful than they realise?). 

Fighting with each other hurts more than it should; it dissolves into tears, slamming doors shut and heart aches that wouldn’t have happened if they didn’t agree to this stupid fake dating thing. 

And then it all comes to a head one day, tearful and angry confessions on the tips of their tongues. (And by God, are they so dramatic about it, too.) 

B: “Why are you doing this to us? We— we were doing so good—” 

A: “Because this is supposed to be fake, but I’m falling for you and I’m fucking terrified I’m never going to be able to catch myself. Because I’m falling for you and you don’t feel the same and everything in me screams for me to run away, but I can’t because it’s you.” 

B: “…And who the fuck says I don’t feel the same?” 

[poppitron360]

Dark!Piper is my Roman Empire. I’m loving this glimpse of her.

[aihaloos]

Tempted to write a replaced au twst fic where Yuu (or alternatively, I'll use my Yuu, Riyuu, who is basically who I'm writing this for) used to be the cutest girl around, the cheery one who's always around everyone, the one you can't seem to dislike even if your crush falls for her because she earnestly says sorry (even though it's not her fault) and will always help you out if you need her back in her old school. But one day, a new girl comes around and her whole reputation got destroyed. She helps the new girl adjust, tells her all the rumours and introduces her to all the popular kids. But the girl ends up backstabbing her, telling the popular girls rumours about how she intentionally plays up the act to steal their crushes to her, and lies to the boys, telling them she's just playing with their hearts and that she's a horrible person.

Yuu ends up alone and excluded, being seen as "annoying" and only having a few close friends who doesn't really interact with her in public in fear of their reputation being ruined. She ends up miserable at school, and wishes to not go anymore. But one day comes a saving grace, she gets whisked by a mysterious black carriage into Twisted Wonderland, or more specifically, Night Raven College. She doesn't mind working if it meant she doesn't have to deal with her old school, there was still 1 and a half years left of school and she doesn't want to deal with all ghe group projects to be assigned that will inevitably end with everyone not wanting to team up with her. Plus, as annoying Grim is, he's like the animal friend all of the anime and storybook protagonists she knows has, and she doesn't mind him too much.

Some things did change after she and Grim got officially enrolled, but she had no problem adapting to the social expectations of the world, part time jobs with Sam -- and occasionally the canteen -- paid enough to get her tools for cooking basic but delicious food, and new friends without the weight of her past helped her get settled comfortably.

The existence of Overblots stunned her for a bit, but a peek into Riddle and Leona's memories helped her understand the concept, even if just a little. However, things began to change eerily simlarly to her old school when a new girl comes, also in a similar position to her, getting transported to a new, unfamilliar world, and seemingly hailing from a similar world to the Earth she knows. She warmly welcomes her, eager to finally befriend another girl, but it seems that the girl does not share the same enthusiasm.

The girl only barely responds to Yuu's attempts at forming a friendship, and always seems to talk her in a condescending way, and often dismisses her, and especially so whenever there are any boys around.

Yuu will not deny any statements claiming she's an attention seeker or that she plays up her sweet innocent girl act, but she knows to never, ever sacrifice a bystander for it. But if someone insists on war with her... well that's another, different story. She's learnt her lesson of being overly optimistic, and she will not make the same mistake twice. She will not let her make her life a living hell more than it already is with Crowley's irresponsibleness.

Aaand thus begins the story. Or well, however you wanna continue it. I'm honestly in favour of most Housewardens (Kalim, Vil, and Idia in particular. I'll put my reasoning in a few paragraphs down) Adeuce, Tweels, and Ortho for team Yuu. Why?

Well, first of all, Adeuce. This is mostly because the duo is like. with Yuu since Day 1, as much of a bitch as Ace is, I think those two are the most likely to trust and know Yuu well enough to not believe the lies R (< Replacer) tells. Especially Deuce, he doesn't want to betray a friend he knew for quite a while, that would not be very honor student-like of him!! And she helped him out in a lot of situations too! He doesn't want to hurt you after all the trouble you go through to help him, and also knowing how horrible your living conditions are. Ace would most likely give in to peer pressure if the student body is overwhelmingly in favour of R, but as of now, he maybe enjoys your company just a bit more than R. Just a bit, promise.

Tweels I feel like is self-explanatory. Those two are perceptive as fuck istg it scares me. Jade especially. I feel like the two would just toy with R for a bit despite her facade and lies before dropping her after she bothers them for attention and favours one too many times.

(Ortho ties in with Idia so I'll explain him in Idia's paragraph)

Kalim is actually very emotionally intelligent. He can come off annoying and stupid, but from all the scenes I see of him, he's actually really good at dealing with people. Have you seen how he deals with the Scarabia residents after Jamil's OB??? The way he phrases his sentences?? He didn't force or even plead with them to forgive Jamil, he simply asks them to wait before making permanent judgements, and I think he's gonna be uncomfy with how condescendingly R talks to Yuu, and even if he's used to people going after him for money, I feel like R mostly eyeing him for money and how she "secretly" sighs in annoyance everytime she goes out of the party for a "bathroom break" will only solidify his dislike/discomfort, even if he doesn't show it.

Vil is also kind of self-explanatory if you read into his character and not just the shell the official English localization makes for him. (I could rant for hours about how the official tl portrays his character istg. He's hardworking and he actually didn't attempt to poison Neige out of pure jealousy, he did it because he felt like all his efforts to be beautiful will never be able to surpass Neige, who, in his eyes, always seemed to be innocent and naturally beautiful. He feels like the villain in Neige's story. He feels like he is reduced to what he often plays as, a snobbish, overconfident villain obsessed with overthrowing the hero. And because of it, it became a twisted self-fulfilling prophecy, pushing him to, in a fit of despair, be that same villain everyone sees him as.) I really don't think he will take well to R's condescension to Yuu, who genuinely wants to befriend R. (I actually have a whole thing in my head where Yuu and Vil occasionally have sleepovers where they do skincare together after the whole VDC thing happened. I feel like this is also a "vent sesh" of sorts for the both of them, just to air out their grievances without much seriousness, and I think Yuu would admit to wanting a fellow girl in the school that she could befriend, since no matter what, being the only girl can be exhausting.) Ik Vil's not a girl but he is such a girls' girl istg.

Idia... this mostly ties into Ortho and The STYX Incident, but like,, I think we can all agree on this one,, Idia is smart and capital V Very pessimistic. Would you rather trust the girl you've known for a while, who saw your memories, who helped you in awkward social situations when she can and is besties with your brother or some random new girl who trash talks said girl behind her back? The former, right? Plus, even if Yuu did only hang out with him and his brother because she likes to secretly laugh at him behind his back, there's mo guarantee R wouldn't do the same, given his experience. And he would rather have someone who actively helps him and his brother out than someone who wouldn't.

I didn't put Malleus in because of how canon him actually treats Yuu. I feel like the fandom kind of put on rose-tinted glasses on with his character, and kind of ignored some things like, idk... him just leaving them to fend for themselves homeless during Octavinelle... maybe he thought Crowley would offer them a place to stay but like... I'm still bothered by how didn't atleast offer a spare room in Diasomnia. He's a housewarden goddamnit. He's not as distant or scary as the rumours say but like. still rubbed me the wrong way.

Anyways I don't think my attention span will let me write it to completion so if anyone likes this and wants to write it feel free. Pls tag me if you do tho. I would love to read it :3

[bisexual-biohazard5]

Just some random scenario I thought of. What if Fred didn't die and Percy didn't reconnect with the family?

Percy was sitting by the fireplace, enveloped in it's warmth when he felt someone tap his shoulder. He turned to see Fred and George looking sheepish and a pleading glint in their eyes.

Fred first spoke, "Say Percy, how good at you with- uhh... legal things?" There was a slight uneasy and stressed look in their body language.

Percy paused as the worst case scenarios came into his head, "Who got arrested?!"

The twins looked surprised and shared an amused loom before explaining, this time George spoke, "No no. No one's arrested. We just-...need help with laws...and legal registration..."

Laws and legel registrations? Oh yeah, the joke shop the twins were trying to set up. Percy relaxed for a second, glaring at them for scraing him, though it was mostly payful. Of course they didn't know anything about the law system and the documents they needed to sign. Percy sighed and sat down with them.

Over the next few hours, he went through the things they needed, making a list of the documents and laws they needed to research and the process on how to get a permit.

Occassionally, Molly would pop in and they would pretend to playfully bicker and continue working when she left. The twins would never admit it at the time but they were afraid that their mother would be disappointed at them for planning to drop out of school and starting their own business. What if they failed? What if it didn't work? But through their stress and anxiety, Percy stayed there for them and offered reassurance and help.

Then came the arguement and Percy left, he packed his things and cut all ties. He was gone.

They couldn't see it at the time but it wasn't just his fault. It was their parents fault for not approaching the arguement with a calm behaviour. It was their fault for leaving Percy out and it was Percy's fault for not reaching out. They were all in the fault. None of them were innocent. In the heat of their moment, all they could think of was themselves as emotions flooded their senses and blinded their logic.

Years later, George and Fred remembered those moments, how the stress and worry lifted from their shoulders as Percy guided them through everything. They owned Percy one for that. But now, Percy wasn't there. He hadn't reconnected after the war but they still remembered him as their joke shop became successful and their products gained attraction. They really should talk to him one day and set their problems aside. One day, hopefully.

[ktchie]

'Keep your mouth shut and your legs open'

Ted lasso x Reader

Smut and fluff

♡other tags: p in v, unprotected sex (don't do it or you'll die), cunnulingus, cum eating, vaginal fingering, soft dom!Ted, praising and degrading.

♤2.6k words

◇ y'all fuck in his office, what more do you want?

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

"Stop squirmin' so much, sugar" he mumbled in your ear, hot breath making your stomach coil. "And keep your pretty litte mouth close, don't want others to hear ya' but me"

You sat on his lap, legs wide open and slung on either side of his thigh. His fingers deep in your cunt, wet with slick and his spit.

The sounds of your pussy was filthy, soaking his khakis with every move of his arms. It makes your ear go hot and toes to curl. The image of you spread out on his office with your bare cunt weeping wasn't helping you either, it makes you feel dirty, like some cheap slut for him to use whenever he grew bored.

"Take a look at that" he spread his slick fingers apart in 'v', two web of precum connecting in between. "ain't it pretty?.." he then suck it with a loud pop "sweet too, makes me wanna put my whole face deep in that pretty cunt of yours, can I?"

You nodded your head mutely, brain could barely form any words aside from moans and whimpers. Ted chuckled at you before pressing peck on your cheek, sweet and gentle as if he wasn't breaking you apart on his lap with his fingers shiny with your slick.

"Gonna put you down yeah? Sit you 'ere on my spot so I can kneel down" Ted did exactly what he told you, carrying you as he stood up before putting you on his office chair, panties on your ankles and your skirt somewhere on the carpet.

He kneeled down slowly, his once innocent eyes bright with pure happiness and adoration were now darken with lust, almost wild, like a man starve. He stared at the spot between your things "Look'a that" four fingers touch your cunt, smearing your juices and making a mess. " 's pretty, and all for me ain't that right, hun?"

You nodded your head, almost squealing when Ted push your thighs apart, putting them on the arms of his office chair and leaning close to your cunt. "Need your words, baby doll. Tell me its all f'me"

" 's alll yours" you said almost in daze, your hand gripping your shirt thight halfway to your belly button. He had told you to do it earlier, command you do it so he could see his fingers disappearing in your pussy.

"Thats right" he mumbled before he blew on it, smiling as you shivered.

"This what you want, sugar? To be spread out in my office where everybody can walk in and see you actin' like this?" He lick a slow stripe of your cunt, you whimpered lowly. "Bet it is, hm? You've always been the filthy one. Even humpin' on my cock when I told you not to, who would have thought my perfect girl could be so disobedient?"

You feel like you were drowning, his words almost like a fleeting whisper as you sat there, chest panting and mouth agape. He was breaking you, pulling you apart until you turn into nothing but a toy for him to use. You clamped your mouth shut when you felt him lick you, poking your clit from the hood of your pussy before sucking it on his mouth with a filthy sound.

"Mhm!" You moaned through your palm, arching your back and gasping when he push it back down.

"Stay still" he ordered before diving back in, not even giving you a second to breath. He captured your clit between his lips, pulling  before sucking it, even going as far as to pressed his face further and lapping at your cunt. His tounge now on your throbbing hole, slurping any slick he could taste with his nose bumping your bundle of nerves.

"T-ted!" You moaned loudly as he started to aggressively eat you out, lapping and sucking like a man deprived of anything good in his life. He's tasting you like it would be his last, as if there's a noose around his neck ready to pull at a drop of a silver pin. "S-shit!" You threw your head back and slithered your fingers on his brown locks and pull, he groaned loudly as you did so but did not relent his actions.

Your pussy is fluttering at every poke of his tounge, your slick dripping down on the leather chair and towards his chin. He was a mess but the way he looks at you made you think he actually loves being dirty like this. He pulled away to kiss the inside of your thighs, lips shimmering with your juice and his spit.

"Stay still for me, would ya?" He had asked before pulling both of your thighs forward and making you slide down - you're half hanging on the chair and half laying down. "There we go, sweetheart. Be good f' me. Let me make this pretty pussy cry hm? Give you what you been wantin' for" he kiss your cunt briefly before he took two of his fingers and slowly push it in, you groaned loudly before pressing a palm on your mouth.

"Shhhh, I know. But you gotta keep quiet, alright darlin? Don't want those boys hearin' you while I'm fucking your cunt." He stated lowly, eyes stuck on the way you swallow his fingers, as if your pussy was hungry for everything he can offer."So fuckin' wet, sugar. Should have punish you y'know? Comin' on my work with that short skirt on, teasin' me and pretending you don't know a thing when I called ya out" he clicked his tounge with that stern tone that made your stomach coil and pussy throb. "Youre lucky i love ya' or else ill have ya on my knees right now, that sweet ass red from my palm and crying pretty tears. But I dont wanna hurt ya'" he licked his lips as a slick drip down from your pussy "can't have my pretty girl suffering, I don't think my poor heart can take it" he said before leaning down, capturing your hard clit on his mouth and giving a loud hard suck that had your thighs shaking and back arching.

"NGHHH!" your moans were muffled by your palm, eyes rolling back and jerking on every thrust of his hand.

Ted pry your thighs apart before his palm pressed on your lower abdomen, adding to your sensitivity and the overwhelming feeling of pleasure and ecstasy. He pulled away from your cunt, his hands slowly going faster and reaching for that hidden nerves that made you want to melt.

"So fucking pretty like this, darlin'" he praised you while he ruin you. "Such a pretty girl" he pecked your lips but you didnt have the right mind to even respond properly, you are out of it, your mind nothing but empty air and your body knows nothing but pleasure. He pressed his face into your neck, inhaling your scent as he put his other hand on the wall to keep him grounded while he fucked your pussy roughly. He groaned when you groaned and moaned when you moaned, he buried his face further into your throat, licking your skin and pressing to you close as you claw on his nape, you were shaking at this point, eyes closed and mouth agape.

His fingers were loud in your cunt, filthy and animalistic. He hit your spot at every thrust, chuckling at every swallowed sob of your blubbering mouth. "Too much hm? Better take it, you haven't even cum yet"

You keep your eyes closed tightly as you feel the coil on your stomach tightening, your pussy fluttering on his fingers, squeezing it tight and soaking it with your slick. You held onto him as you came, toes curling and teeth burried on his shoulder.

"There ya' go, that's my good girl, that's a sweetheart. So good for me, so fuckin' perfect" he kissed your cheeks repeatedly as he continued to fuck you with his fingers, not stopping even when your tears soak his shirt.

"Mgh! To-too sensitive" you had said but you chased his fingers when he almost pulled away. "Just a little longer, dolly. Wanna see you cum again"

You shook your head to say no, you could feel your cum dripping down the chair, could feel it stick to the inside of your thigh but Ted still didn't stop, only push forward. "Come on, darlin' you can do it"

"T-ted i-fuck, please I cant-"

"Yes you can" he kissed your forehead, lingering a little too long that you could feel your heart flutter. "Come on, I know you can do it. Just one more time, let go for me, sugar. Make me proud"

You came again with a silent cry, thighs shaking and eyes rolled back as Ted mumbled praises and sweet nothing in your ears.

"Good girl, there we go" he stated, his thrust slowing down.

"Love you, you did so good" he kissed you gently before pulling back, the fingers that were once buried in your cunt were now gone and you watch, with hooded eyes and heaving chest as he sucked it on his mouth.

"Ted.." you mumbled as you watched him undo his belt, the clashing mental echoing on the silent room as he watched you with dark eyes and a subtle smirk.

"Somethin' wrong, sweetheart?" He had asked coyly, pulling his khakis down lightly. "Ya need something?" He pulled his cock out of his boxers and it made you salivate, made you want to lean down and take it to your mouth, taste him like he had tasted you and make him fall apart.

"Fuck.." you whispered as you watch him thread his fingers to his slightly messy hair, licking his lips as he did so. Warm hands, almost enveloping the entirety of your thigh spread you apart once again, as if you're nothing but a toy.

"Keep those legs open f' me, yeah? Finally gonna give you my cock, sweetie. you'll behave, won't you?"

You nodded your head at his question, your pussy twitching at every movement he makes. His thumb caressed the skin in your inner thigh before he leaned down and spit on your throbbing cunt.

Your breath hitched as you stared at his large cock, dripping with precum and bobbing with need. It always makes you wonder how you can fit it in, how Ted makes you take it because seeing it now so so close, it almost seems like impossible.

"Dont worry your pretty little head, sugar" he licked his lips, lining up his cock on your sopping entrance. "It'll fit"

He thrusted slowly, gripping the flesh on your hips and thumb caressing your tummy. He groaned as as you clenched, holding on his arms as he swallowed the moan threatening to escape your mouth.

"F-fuck, almost there, darlin' almost there" he mumbled as he buried his face on your neck, mumbling curses as he move. His right hand push your thigh forward, folding you in half with a loud groaned as he finally bottom out. You moaned in return, closing your eyes and throwing your head back.

"There we go, sweetheart. There we fuckin' go, shit- told ya It'll fit, you're fuckin' made for me" he growled and suddenly thrusted a little harder, hitting that hidden bundle of nerves deep inside you. It made you choke on your own saliva and whimpered loudly. "Pretty pussy, made just f'me ain't that right, princess?" He held your cheek between his hand before pulling you for a kiss, swallowing your moans. 

You gasped as he started to move a little faster, rocking the chair beneath the both of you. You feel so full, his cock stretching you so widely you know you'll feel him till morning.

"Feel me in here?" He ask as he pressed a palm on your tummy, chuckling when he felt a dull bump beneath his hand. "You do don't ya? Cock so big im all up your fuckin' guts, its a suprpise you can still keep quiet hm?"

"P-please" you almost sobbed pathetically as he continue to hit that spot inside of you that makes you want to bury your head into his chest and screamed. "P-please, Ted"

He cooed and grab your face, his thumb swirling on your wet bottom lip as you stared up to him with daze eyes and agape mouth, head filled with nothing but air and the pleasure of his cock. "What is it, darlin? Need something from me?"

You nodded dumbly, sucking his thumb into your mouth and groaning loudly when he moaned and thursted forward rather harshly. "Te-tell me what you need, come on-shit, come on sweetheart. Ya know ill gave it to ya, just say the word" he push his thumb forward, caressing the pad of your tounge before pulling it out and putting it in your clit. "Cum? Wanna cum, is that it? Does my pretty dolly wanna cum?"

"Y-yes, want to cum, please Ted please" you begged pathetically, tears brimming in your eyes from all the pleasure you're receiving. Your pussy practically weeping.

"Shhh, I know, I know. Aint gonna have to beg yeah? Don't have to, you know ill give to ya" he groaned and clenched your hips harder. "Fuckin love ya so much ill give the whole goddamn world to you" he confessed before capturing your lips in a bruising kiss, Ted tasted like salt and sweet and love and promises you know you'll keep, you pulled him towards you and embrace him as his cock drilled into your wet cunt, you held him so close you could barely breath. "I got you, sweetheart. Shi-shit squeezin me so tight" he held the back of your chair and started ramming into you fast, almost too much.

"Mmhh" he whimpered, thumb moving into your clit a little bit faster now and more sloppier. "M' close.." he whispered and put his forehead into you, closing his eyes "come with me, honey. Please" he begged so beautiful your heart ache, you nodded at his request and captured his face into the both of your palm before kissing him gently.

"I love you" you whispered and soon enough you were coming, your toes curling and your back lifting. Ted clenched his jaw and lightly pulled your hips up and started fucking you like it was his last.

"Fuck!" Soon enough he had come, throwing his head back and his hips stuttering. Whimpering and twitching whenever you clenched tight.

"S-shit, sweetheart" he breathed heavily before looking down on you, flashing you that love sick smile partnered with his blushing cheeks.

You grin up to him and kiss him passionately, soft and gentle and filled with adoration.

"Ya should come here more often" he had said with a cheeky grin, moving away to tuck himself back to his jeans before gently putting your panties back into you.

You scoffed "and you said I'm the dirty one"

Ted laugh lightly "oh well I guess we both have our moments. But um-" he looked down, suddenly shy as if he wasnt just rearranging your guts a second ago. "I would really love it if you come here more often and we dont hav'ta..y'know..just wanna spend time with ya, that's all"

You breathed a sigh and pull him close and kiss his nose. "Youre too cute"

"Does that mean you'll come again tomorrow?" He gave you his very best puppy eyes, the one that would make even the gods bend their knee.

You rolled your eyes affectionately "Of course ill come" you smiled at him slightly "I don't think I can sayo no to that pretty face"

He grinned cheekily. "I know"

Ted kissed your knuckles and you suddenly realize that you don't mind marrying this man and maybe even going into his work very day, seeing him like this is worth it anyway.

[the-broken-pen]

“You’re going to blow out your arms,” the villain observed. They watched as the hero merely grit their teeth, shoving themself through another pull-up. It looked painful, and if the sweat slicking the hero’s brow was any indication, it was.

They waited for the hero to let themself drop from the bar and accept the villain was stronger. But they didn’t.

Three more pull-ups, and the villain stepped in.

“Hero,” they said slowly. “You’re about to tear the ligaments in your arms. You need to stop.”

The hero blew out a shuddering breath. Struggled for purchase, fighting gravity—and let themself drop.

The hero’s hands were bleeding, calluses torn open by the bar. The hero didn’t seem bothered when their own hands shook so much that their blood began to splatter on the gym floor.

For a moment, the villain could only stare at them.

Shit.

They didn’t know how to handle this. They knew the hero was dedicated. They knew the hero was strong, and perpetually trying to be stronger, but they hadn’t thought…

They hadn’t thought the hero would be so willing to tear apart their own body for success.

It was supposed to be fun, the villain thought. They felt a little sick as the hero pressed their palms together to soothe the bleeding, an action that was practiced and familiar. As if they had done this before.

The hero reached for something in their bag, smearing blood on the side, and pulled out a roll of blue electrical tape. The villain didn’t understand why, until the hero tore a strip off and made to wrap their hands with it.

The hero would be the death of them.

They crouched in front of the hero, plucking the electrical tape out of their hands.

“What are you doing with this?”

The hero blinked at the villain like they were the strange one in this situation.

“Wrapping my hands?”

The villain hissed in a breath.

“With electrical tape?”

The hero flushed slightly, looking down at their bloody hands. They looked close to tears.

“It…sticks to skin, really well. And it doesn’t move, either, when you move your hands or wherever else, even if you’re fighting. Plus, blood doesn’t make it come off, at least, not for a while.”

The villain blinked at them.”

“Blood doesn’t make it come off,” the villain repeated, processing. The hero nodded, reaching for the electrical tape. The villain settled it out of reach.

“Not if you wrap it right.”

Dimly, the villain realized that meant the hero had done this enough times to have it down to a science.

“And you couldn’t use a bandaid?” The villain asked incredulously. The hero shrugged a shoulder, then winced at the motion.

Yeah, the hero had absolutely blown out their arms.

“Bandaids move—“

The villain hushed them.

“Be quiet for a second.”

The hero, wisely, went quiet.

The villain rubbed a hand over their face, then studied the hero for a moment. They took one of the hero’s hands into their own, studying the damage.

“Why did you do this to yourself,” the villain murmured.

“What do you mean, why,” the hero snapped. “It’s my job.”

“Your job is to save people,” the villain corrected. “Not destroy yourself.”

“I’m not destroying myself—“

“You are.”

“Shut up—“

“Hero.”

“I need to be better,” the hero snapped. Their voice rang out across the gym, echoing into the rafters, and they both froze. After a moment, the hero spoke again, voice soft. “I need to be better.”

They said it like they needed the villain to understand. The villain wondered who they were really saying it to—the villain, or themself.

“Better than who?”

“Everyone.” It was hushed, like a secret.

The villain watched them, waiting.

The hero took a shaky breath

“My whole thing is being the best. I have always been the best. That’s the only reason I matter. If I’m not strong enough, then I am nothing, so I need. to be. better.”

The hero had started crying, very quietly, like they were afraid to take up too much space.

The villain was not equipped to handle gifted kid burnout.

“There’s more to you than just being a good athlete,” the villain said hesitantly, and the hero shook their head.

“No. There isn’t.”

“Hero.”

“Can you give me back my electrical tape?” They hiccuped to contain a sob.

“No,” the villain said firmly, and then the hero really was sobbing.

“You don’t understand—“

The villain didn’t. Not really. They had never been the kind of talented that the hero was.

They wondered now if maybe that was a blessing.

“I don’t,” the villain agreed. “But I do understand that you’ve saved half the city, and you give everything you have to give, and you always do your best.”

“But I-“

“No.” The villain stopped them. “You are doing your best.” They tipped the hero’s chin up until they met the villain’s eyes. “And it is enough.”

The hero froze, eyes darting over the villain’s face. They wondered if anyone had ever said that to the hero, if whatever mentor they had was giving them anything other than orders to be stronger. Be better. Be more.

The villain had some new targets to take care of, it would seem.

For now, though, they had to take care of hero.

“We’re going to go wrap your hands,” they said softly. “And then we’re going to take care of your arms, and you’re going to take a nap.”

The hero nodded, watching them like they were some kind of good, selfless person.

“And if I ever catch you using electrical tape again, so help me, I will put you six feet under.”

That startled a laugh out of the hero, and they let the villain guide them to their feet.

“Fine.”

The villain turned to them. “Okay?”

Are you going to be alright?

The hero seemed to understand.

“Okay,” the hero agreed.

Yes.

And so, it was.

[sunsetsandsunshine]

If I may request a Rise fic!! I’m a huge sucker for comfort/cheer up tickles, so could you possibly write a disaster twins fic with Lee Leo and Ler Donnie where Leo’s been having a pretty bad day (because of what is your choice!) and ends up feeling self conscious about himself and stuff, so Donnie decides to cheer up his twin!! Please don’t feel rushed and make sure you’re taking care of yourself ^_^

~ 𝚂𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜!!! ~

💜💙 𝙵𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢: 𝙰𝚗𝚘𝚗 𝙽𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎 💜💙

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙼𝚂𝙺𝙽𝚂𝙽𝙺𝙼𝙳𝙽𝚂𝙹 𝙽𝙾𝙽𝙽𝙸𝙴 𝙾𝙷 𝙼𝚈 𝙶𝙾𝚂𝙷 𝚈𝙾𝚄. 𝙶𝙴𝚃. 𝙼𝙴!!! 𝙶𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚑𝚑𝚑𝚑𝚑 𝚖𝚢 𝙻𝙾𝚁𝙳 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝙹𝙰𝙼!!! 𝙴𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚃𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚜…𝙶𝚘𝚍, 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑. 𝙻𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚕𝚢..𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚝/𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎…𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎’𝚜 𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚠𝚒𝚗 𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎??? 𝙻𝚎𝚐𝚒𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚏𝚊𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎!!!˚*• ̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊·̩̩̥͙

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙷𝚞𝚛𝚝/𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟺,𝟹𝟿𝟺

𝙻𝚎𝚎: 𝙻𝚎𝚘 🐢💙

𝙻𝚎𝚛: 𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎 🐢💜

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙳𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝙻𝚎𝚘 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚙𝚒𝚍…𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚠, 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝?

(𝙰/𝙽: 𝚂𝚠𝚒𝚖𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚊 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝…𝙱𝚞𝚝 *𝙰𝙷𝙴𝙼* 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢: 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚐𝚞𝚢! 𝚃*𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚔/𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚜 𝙳𝙽𝙸!!!)

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚐𝚒𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚜:  @shut-up-jo @itzsana-kiddingmenow @aceofspades-doodles @ziipzeepzop-eez

@tmntheadforever123 @rice-cake-teen10 @aninabanina6969

@savemeafruitjuice @cedarrthefluffylee @saturnzskyzz @titters-and-tingles

@someone1348 @my-l0v3r-v3rse @snipersiniora @mistyandsnow

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝙰𝚛𝚐𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏-𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚢𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚊 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚜𝚑𝚞𝚝𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗, 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝙿𝙻𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚔!!! 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚣𝚢…

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝚃𝙴𝙴𝙷𝙴𝙴 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍 🕺🏾✨💞🎶˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me again.” Leo grumbled under his breath as he rested his mouth on his palm, glancing away from his brother as he sighed loudly. 

“Well maybe if you weren’t so fucking reckless I wouldn’t need to.” Donnie growled lowly, glaring down at his twin.

“I’m not a baby, Don. I don’t need to be supervised like I’m some bomb triggered to explode.” The younger said in exasperation, lying down on his bed whilst grabbing a comic book to read off of his desk.

If Leo was going to be told off and scolded by his dear beloved brow-loving brother, he should at least have something to occupy himself with in the meanwhile. 

The softshell groaned eternally at his little brother’s action, quickly snatching the piece of literature out of the other’s hands and throwing it effortlessly to the ground. 

Uninterested lime green eyes locked with a determined yet fierce light golden, both of them refusing to look away or blink to show their dominance.

But after a while, the red eared slider grew more impatient, looking away again as he picked a hangnail on his thumb, “If you’re going to yell at me, can you just get it over with? I saw a reddit post predicting what’s going to happen in The Umbrella Academy season four and I need to read it.” 

“You can read that later, Nardo. I promise you, that reddit post isn’t going to fly away.” The elder said as he pinched the bridge of his snout, “What I need you to do right now is acknowledge what you did today was stupid, alright?” 

Leo looked away from his older brother, scoffing lightly, “I do stupid things all the time. What stupid action of mine are you wanting to scream at me for this time?” 

The softshell turtle took a couple deep breaths at that comment, drumming his fingers on his left arm in a soothing motion because he was NOT going to give into the urge of strangling his twin brother…

…No matter how much he deserved it.

“I’m not planning on screaming at you— that won’t help anyone or anything.” The purple banded turtle explained calmly…but you could see and tell he was starting to lose his paitence. 

“But you want to.” The red eared slider pressed on. 

“Leo…please. I don’t want to argue right now.” 

“We’re not arguing. We’re just kindly discussing my oh-so stupid descision that unfolded earlier today, right?” The younger twin smirked smugly, his eyes locking once again with his brother. 

When it came to arguments, the leader in blue always had this wonderful tactic to avoiding things: attempting to annoy the other person so much that they drop the subject they wanted to discuss with him completely.

It always worked with Raph…which the red eared slider didn’t know whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

But the only downside of doing this tactic was his dumb twin saw right through it…

…And Leonardo despised it. 

“Nardo…you know what I’m referring to. And stop picking, please. Your going to hurt yourself.” The older attempted to say in a tranquil voice, but it personally just sounded like he was one second away from losing. his. shell.

“I sadly do not know what your referring to.” The blue cladded teen said coyly, picking on his hangnail more desperately now, “Care to enlighten me, Tello?” 

Donnie’s expression hardened ever so slightly at his younger brother’s absolute persistence on annoying him out of his right mind so he could eventually drop the subject…but the softshell turtle was not budging.

His twin would have to try way harder than that.

“I’d love to.” The light golden eyed mutant said in a fake sweet tone as he walked over to lean his shell on Leo’s closed door, crossing his arms in disaproval. The elder grabbed his brother’s sword, planting it right next to his foot so the blue banded turtle couldn’t reach for it. 

The red eared slider’s cocky grin turned to a small grimace (shake) as he soon came to terms with what his older brother was doing…

…He physically could not leave from this conversation…literally.

Leonardo crossed his arms, trying to mimick the other’s serious demeanor but was only met with an icy glare in return. 

“What you did during today’s mission was completley reckless and idiotic, Leonardo…and you know it.” The second oldest said, “I had that thug exactly where I wanted him but noooooo. Because you saw me trip you thought it would be a spectacular idea to throw yourself on top of me as that hooligan tried to hit me with his bat!!” Donatello seethed. 

“We’ve been over this multiple times, Leo! There was no reason for you to do that!” The light golden eyed teen yelled, his glare only hardening more as he saw the younger stuttering over his words to try to defend himself.

“I’m not done.” The taller teen growled, all of his calmness and collectiveness thrown completley out of the window.

The slider slightly flinched (which went un-noticed by the other) at his brother’s genuine angry tone, his left leg fidgeting and bouncing up and down like crazy. 

His tactic was really starting to not work in his favour at all…

“Just…stop putting yourself in the middle of danger like you’re just expecting the rest of us to just watch. We’re your family…and most importantly, we can defend ourselves just fine.” 

“Well ihisn’t that hypocritic!” Leonardo scoffed before creasing his eye ridges together in genuine confusion, mumbling to himself, “Hyp…uh…hypocrotic? Hyp…Hypocratic…?” 

“Hypocritical?” The older deadpanned.

“YES! THAT WORD!” Leo said, “When we were fighting Kraang Prime on the ship and he went to take a blow at Mikey…what did you do?”

Donatello scowled, his eyes not leaving his twin, “…I went in front of him and shielded him with my mystic tech.”

“Exactly.” The lime green eyed mutant scoffed, “And how is that any different from what I did, hm?”

“BECAUSE I HAD A PLAN!!!” Donatello shouted, “I planned to accordingly go in front of Mikey so my sheild could protect both him and me. Did it end up turning out perfect? Fuck no. Kraang Prime slashed right through it and me and Mikey went tumbling towards the ground…” The glasses wielding teen said through clenched teeth. 

The light golden eyed teen rubbed his face tiredly, his hands clenching and unclenching in frustration, “But I had a plan. You on the other hand, just zoomed recklessly on top of me and hoped for the best.”

“…I saved you, didn’t I…?” The younger twin mumbled out meekly, causing Donatello’s blood to absolutley boil. 

“That’s not the point!!!” The elder said as he clenched his hands at his sides again.

“Then what is?!” Leo said desperately, “Because from the looks of it, it just seems like you want to yell at me for just doing my job.” 

Leonardo pulled on his mask tails anxiously, trying to calm himself down but ultimately just making himself feel worse by doing the action, “I’ve been trying to be a better leader—“

“Leo—“

“—For you and Mikey and April and Raph and Casey and C.J. a-and Dad! But it seems like no matter what the hell I do there’s always something I’m doing WRONG!!!” The younger twin shouted, blinking back tears as he glared at the ground as if it took his Jupiter Jim comic.

Which…it did. The blue banded mutant wanted it back now, actually…

“I saved you! I-I didn’t even get hurt by doing it but somehow there’s an issue…” The lime green eyed teen murmured, both of his legs bouncing up and down as he tugged on his mask tails harder, “There always is…”

“Leonardo can you please just listen to me?” The older twin said in irritation. 

“But Don I’m—“

“No, Leo! Just listen! That’s all you need to do!” Donnie snapped as he cut his brother off, “I don’t want you leaping head first into harms way! At all! Especially if you don’t have a plan!” The softshell turtle exclaimed as he flapped his hands against the side of his thighs, but his eye contanct remaining on his little brother.

“Oho so now you don’t trust me well enough to know that I can handle myself in combat?” Leo said in a last desperate attempt to make his brother drop the conversation.

“I…” The young scientist’s eye twitched, his eyebrows creasing together as he had to physically restrain himself to not beat the ever living crap out of the other teen, “THIS IS NOT ABOUT TRUST, NARDO!” The light golden eyed mutant screamed desperately, his hands flapping faster as the red eared slider shrunk at his usage of tone, “This is about you not even thinking about what would happen to yourself when you do reckless nonsense like this.”

Leo glanced to the side, his eyes watering as he bit the inside of his cheek.

He just wanted to help and be the leader his brother’s deserved…

But he always found a way to fuck it up without even noticing, huh?

"You don't think about what could happen to you and I hate it!” The elder cried, “What would’ve happened if Raph didn’t come behind the guy and knocked him out cold at the last second, huh?! Would you have just stayed right on me as he continued to beat you with his bat?!”

Leonardo bit the inside of his cheek harder, his legs bouncing up and down more as his fingernails dug unforgivingly into his arms, “I-I’m sorry, Donnie—”

“Or would you have tried to fight him instead?! Mind you, you dropped your sword before coming to me so you’d have no weapon to defend yourself.” 

“You don't think about how much it scares me when you do dumb shit like that! I hate seeing you get hurt…I freaking loathe it.” Donnie rested the back of his head on Leo’s door, taking a couple deep breaths and hugging himself in an attempt to calm himself down.

Jeez…when the hell had he started yelling? His throat stung like a bitch now…

And when had he started shaking like a bobby head?!

The older twin’s expression softened, pinching the bridge of his snout once more, “I care about you…so fucking much, okay…?” The purple banded turtle said gently as he gradually started to simmer down and become more calm, “Your my twin…my little brother. And I hate to be repetitive but I-I just despise seeing you hurt…physically or emotionally…so please just…”

The young scientist’s eyes widened, peering down at his brother who did not seem to be following…at all. 

Leo’s eyes were wide as saucers as he hit his arm with his fist repeatedly whilst obviously trying to suck in whatever tears dared to try and escape. 

The taller turtle basically ran to his distressed twin, trying to stop him from harming himself any further but was only met with a low grunt.

Shit.

Shit. Shit. Fucking shit. 

Wonderful job, Donatello! You yelled at your brother so much he shut down!

Even though you knew he can’t fucking stand being yelled at and the whole point of you even being here was to explain what he did wrong collectively and calmly because that was the exact oppositeof what Raph does when he’s worried…

But no! You yelled at him anyway.

Wonderful job, Donatello…wonderful. job. 

The older twin sighed sadly, gently grabbing his brother’s wrists so he would stop hitting himself. The two brother’s shared eye contact once again, an unsure lime green meeting an understanding yet uncertain light golden.

“Nardo…” The softshell started, squeezing the other’s hands gently, “…Are you with me, bud…?”

Leo just nodded quietly, squeezing back. 

“God…Nardo I’m so sorry…” The older muttered, “I don’t…I don’t know why the hell I lost my cool like that. I-I’m sorry I yelled. I shouldn’t of yelled…I-I just…” Donatello sighed, squeezing his brother’s hands once again. “I’m not angry with you. I…I was just frustrated.”

“Well, no…let me rephrase: I am angry with you— livid even. You know damn well enough that when you do those kinds of things my heart literally jumps out of my shell. I need you to put into consideration that I would like to live to at least seventy-seven…”

The younger twin giggled wetly, fidgeting with his brother’s fingers as he spoke, “…Why seventy-seven?”

“Albert Einstein died when he was seventy-six…I can and will outlive him.” The light golden eyed teen said matter-of-factly, “But back to what I was initially saying…I know you meant well. You saw that I was in trouble…and you dropped literally everything in order to help me get out of said trouble. You don’t think of what happens to you…you just do it because you’ll know if you do we’ll be alright…”

“I-I just…I just wanted to protect you…I-I just wanted to help…” Leo tried to explain.

“I know. I know, Lee…” Donatello sighed, rubbing the slider’s knuckles gently with his thumb, “But you need to understand that with you trying to protect us that way, your putting us in the same situation your trying to keep us away from.” The elder explained lightly, smiling softly as him and his twin’s forehead’s touched. 

“You’re getting hurt— or at the very least almost getting hurt. We’re feeling the same anguish and guilt you would feel if any of us did that. I get that you want to be a good leader and shit…but you can lead well without doing that…okay?” 

Leo fiddled with the other’s fingers a bit more, his bouncing leg starting to calm a bit, “I’ll…try to be more careful when it comes to me protecting you guys like that. When I see you all in trouble…I just…react. I don’t really care about what happens to me as long as you guys end up okay. But…I’ll try to be more careful. And if I ever end up, like, being a bit too reckless…you can just tell me…deal?”

“Deal.” Donnie nodded, squeezing Leo’s hands one last time before letting go, wiping his twin’s eyes with his hoodie sleeve, “Now please stop crying or you’re going to make me start crying.” 

Leo snorted, examining the other’s now tearing up expression, “I think it’s a bit too late for that…” 

“GAH! FUHUCK!” Donnie cursed, wiping his own eyes as the slider laughed loudly at his exclamation.

.

.

.

.

.

.

“Leo…don’t you think you’re getting a bit too big for this…?” Donatello grumbled as Leonardo was on his lap, getting all nice and comfy as he rested his chin on the older’s shoulder. “Noooope.” Leo drawed out, making a dramatic popping noise at the end of the 'p', “'Sides, this is what you get for making me emo earlier.”

“…I said I was sorry…I didn’t mean to shout at you like that. I was just concerned…” 

“I know that, you worrywart. I was just kidding.” The lime green eyed teen said lovingly, squishing his brother into a tighter embrace. The older let out a short shriek at the hug but of course didn’t mind the other being so clingy. 

If the young scientist really and truly did mind? Leo would’ve been pushed to the floor by now. 

The two twins shared a comfortable silence…well…a semi-comfortable silence.

The purple banded teen felt…off. His younger brother had this…look in his eyes; like he wanted to say something but was afraid of what Donnie would say or how Donnie would react.

Which was so damn dumb Donatello didn’t even know how to explain it.

“…There’s something else on your mind.” The taller turtle hummed, his suspicions only rising as the other glanced to the side. “Uhm…no there isn’t. See? This is why I call you a worrywart.” Leonardo said, tapping his fingers on his thigh nervously. 

Very convincing Leo…very convincing.

“Don’t even try lying to me, Leon. My older brother and twin senses are tingling. You can’t argue against that kind of logic.” The scientist said matter-of-factly. 

“What are you, Spiderman?” The younger snorted. 

“We shall never know.” The older shrugged, a small smile spreading to his face as he saw the other snort softly at his statement, “Now stop deflecting. Spill.” 

“…Can you…adjust my elbow braces…?” The red eared slider muttered.

“…Why can’t you do it?” The other questioned. Not in a malicious way; he was just genuinely curious. 

“I like it when you do it. You make it more firm, y'know?” The blue banded turtle whined dramatically, “Pleeeeeease?”

“Ugh, Jesus— fine. But drop the pout…you look ridiculous.” The taller mutant sighed, lightly grabbing his brother’s arm as he readjusted the braces. 

The purple banded turtle meticulously took off the other’s left arm brace, tracing his twin’s elbow to make sure it was healing correctly— which the slider couldn’t help but wriggle slightly to.

As the older twin put the brace back on, he looked at the other turtle in complete worry, “…Why are you squirming around so much?” Donatello asked in confusion. 

“…No reason.” Leonardo stated, but let out a tiny squeak as Donnie lightly pinched his forearm. 

“Yohou okay…?” The glasses wielding mutant giggled.   

“I-I’m fihine!” The smaller turtle insisted, covering his mouth as he let out a loud shriek in result to his brother now lightly scribbling his forearm. “EEEEE! P-Plehease moohoove yohour hahahand!!” The younger sputtered out, hiding his face in the crook of the scientist’s neck which the older turtle couldn’t help but let his heart melt to.

“Oh.” Donatello hummed, biting back an amused laugh, “Sorry. Sometimes I forget how ticklish you are…”

“Snrt I-Ihihi’m nahat ticklish. I juhust don’t wahant your hand thehere…” 

And isn’t that quaint. 

If Donnie had a penny for every time Leo said he 'wasn’t ticklish', the softshell would be richer than Elon Musk.

“…Right. So…you wouldn’t mind me doing this then?” The young genius mused as he scribbled one hand over his twin’s ribs. “EEEEHEH! Duhuhude noHOH!! F-Fuhuck yohou!” The younger twin managed through his small giggles, pushing on his brother’s plastron to try and escape while he still could.

The elder laughed fondly at his little brother’s futile actions, hugging him closer as he lightly tickled him, “Nahardo! My brohohother in Christ gehet back here or you’re gohoing to fahall off of the bed!

“N-NOHO!! LEHET ME GO!” The lime green eyed teen screeched loudly, kicking his legs and pushing even harder on the other’s plastron, his eye’s widening in panic as his older brother casually lifted him up and pinned his arms above his head, his plastron now facing up on the bed.

Eugh boy…

Donnie grinned, sitting on the other’s thighs as he wiggled his unoccupied fingers in the air near the slider’s side, “That’s better~!”

“WAHAIT WAHAHAIT snrt PLEHEASE DEEHEE!!” The red eared slider cried, kicking his legs from underneath the scientist.

If he was going to go down…he would at least go down fighting. 

“I haven’t even touched you yet, you goof…” The older twin chuckled. 

“B-BUHUT YOHOUR GOHOHONNA!” 

“'Gonna' what, exactly?”

“TihiHICKLE ME!!” 

“Tickle you? Well, why didn’t you just say so in the first place?” Donatello snickered, using his free hand to skitter his fingers along the crook’s of the younger’s neck. 

The blue banded turtle squealed, shaking his head back in forth whilst scrunching his shoulders, “GAHaha— snrt EEEEHEEHEH oho cohome snrt OHAHAN!!” 

“What’s wrong, Leo? I thought you said you weren’t ticklish~?” The older teased.

“Snrt STHDHAHAH! Shuhut UP! IHI’M naHAT!” The younger shouted, tugging and pulling his arms to try and get his hand’s free from the other’s grasp. Donnie just laughed softly at the action, wiggling his fingers above his little brother’s stomach. 

The lime green eyed teen’s eyes widened in panic, thrashing in the hold to try and loosen his brother’s grip but the purple banded turtle did not budge even a smidge. 

Leo’s laughs became more giddy and loud as he continued to squirm, small squeals and snorts escaping his beak as his twin brother’s hand went sloooooowly to his stomach. 

“N-NOHO NONONONO DAHA— snrt DOHON!!” The smaller turtle snorted, hiding his face in the side of his arm which Donnie couldn’t help but giggle to. 

The light golden eyed mutant rested his hand on the slider’s plastron, making the younger turtle’s laugh raise almost a thousand octaves. 

“DOHON’T snrt DOHON’T DOHOHON’T snrt YOU DARE!! YOHOUR SOHO MEEHEEHEEAN!!” Leonardo whined, hiding deeper into his arm and becoming a giggly flustered mess.

The older twin shook his head fondly at his little brother’s embarrassed state, taking the opportunity to tickle the younger’s stomach while he wasn’t looking. 

Leo let out a loud scream, descending into high-pitched cackles as even louder snorts followed, “HAHAHAHELP!! IHI’M SNRT BEEHEEING SLAHAHAUTERED!!” 

“I’m quite literally only using one hand, Nardo. Stop being dramatic.” The light golden eyed teen mused whilst watching his brother snort and squirm, “And here I thought I was the dancer of the family. Look at you! You’re making up a whole dance routine right now!” He said as he let go of Leo, crossing his arms in amusement. 

“S-Shuhuhut snrt up…” The younger twin wheezed out, hugging his middles as he playfully glared at his purple loving brother. 

Then, a lightbulb went on in the scientist’s brain, a smug smile spreading to his face, “Hm…you know, Lee—”

“Dohont call snrt me thahat!” Leo giggly interupted. 

“Uh-huh. Well, Lee…did you know that the underarms are one of the warmest places on the human body?” The scientist said. 

The lime green eyed mutant cocked his head to the side in confusion, “Soho?” 

“Soooo my hands are cold. Very cold, in fact. I’d be forever in your debt if you could—”

“NO! NONOHO WAHAY IN HEHELL! G-GOHO AWAHAHAY!” Leo squealed, reaching for his brother’s wrists as the elder tried to tickle his neck once again.

Sigh…Leonardo made this too damn easy sometimes.

The glasses wielding teen wasn’t just going to miss this oh-so-definetly-not-planned opportunity! The softshell scribbled his fingers along the slider’s underarms, making the younger let out a loud squawk as he shot his arms down. 

“NAHAH AHAHAHA— snrt GEHET THEHE HEHELL OHAHA— snrt OHOHOUT!!” Leonardo cried while banging his heels on the bed. 

“What~?” Donnie hummed inocently. 

“GEHEHET AHA— snrt GEHET. OHOUT. OHOF THEHEHERE!”

“Awe…why~?”

“BEEHEECAUSE IHIT’S SOHO BAHAHAD!!!” 

“And?” Donnie chuckled, “That sounds like a you problem, little brother.” 

“AHHHAHA— snrt GAHAHAD FUHUCK YOHOU!!!”

“Pardon…what was that?” Donnie questioned as he pinched where Leo’s hip met his thigh. “N-NONO— snrt NAHAHAH!! I CAN’T— snrt PLEHEHEASE I’M snrt SORRY!! I-IHI TAHAHAKE IHIT BAHAHCK!!” 

“Nah…I think I’ll just stay riiiiight here for a bit…” The taller turtle smiled, using both of his hands now to tickle Leo into a laughing and snorting blob.

The younger weakly hit his big brother’s arms, throwing his head back as he squeezed his eyes completely shut. 

“…And you know what, Lee~?” 

“WHAHAHAT NOW?!” 

“I’m feeling…kind of famished.” The elder mused, his smile almost looking like the signature Joker’s as he saw his younger brother’s face pale. 

Leonardo scrambled to sit up, fighting with his brother’s arms as he giggly protested, “PLAHA— snrt PLAHAHEASE! PLEHEASE snrt D-DOHON’T!!” 

Donnie pinched his brother’s thighs unforgivingly, “You should have thought about that before yapping such ill nonsense about yourself.”

“WHAHA— snrt WHAHAHA— snrt WHAHAT DIHID snrt IHIHI snrt EVEN SAHAHAY?!” The lime green eyed turtle cackled, flapping his hands on the mattress. 

It took literally everything in the older twin not to coo his baby brother’s adorable actions; instead, he lightly moved Leo’s hands away, smiling evily as he lowered his head to the other’s plastron, “You don’t even know. Guess you really want this, huh~?” 

The blue banded teen kicked his knees into his brother’s shoulders and shell, throwing his head back in complete hysterics whilst waiting for him complete and utter demise. 

The softshell wasted no time blowing raspberries after raspberries in the middle of his younger’s stomach, making sure to move the other’s hands away any time he tried to push at the young genius’ head. 

Donnie didn’t feel like getting brain damage after all.

Plus, he had his signature glasses ᴅᴏɴᴀᴛᴇʟʟᴏ ᴛᴍ on! And those were trademarked…as you can wonderfully see. 

“God…can you get more ticklish?” Donatello giggled, squeezing and squishing the red eared slider’s knees with one hand and scribbling his sides with the other whilst contuinung to raspberry Leo’s stomach. 

“DEEHEE DEEHEEHEE SNRT PLEHEHEASE!!! IHI SNRT DAHAHAH— SNRT DAHA— SNRT DAHUNNO!!” The smaller turtle screamed, happy stimming with his arms on the taller twin’s shoulder.

Donnie couldn’t help but chuckle, deciding to show his twin a tad bit of mercy as he nibbled his stomach lightly. 

The slider let out bloody murder from his beak, happy tears threatening to fall from his eyes as his bubbly cackles and snorts bounced off the walls of his room.

“Jeez…I think Peppa Pig has some competition, huh~?” The light golden eyed mutant snickered.

“PLEHEHEASE!! TEHEHELLO SNRT IHI’M GOH— SNRT GOHOHA— AHAHA SNRT MYHYHY SNRTGAHAHAHAD!!!” The smaller teen pleaded.

“Do you promise to stop putting yourself in between danger and your family?” The older hummed. 

“YEHEHES!!” The younger cried loudly.

“Do you promise to go easier on yourself?” 

“YAHA— SNRT YAHA— SNRT YEHEHES!!!”

“Do you promise to accept your doing an amazing job as leader and we all love you—”

“MY SNRT FUHUHUCKING SNRT GAHAHAD!!! IHIHI SNRT GEHET IT!!” Leonardo shouted, his blush now completley blending into the red stripes on his face. 

The softshell turtle got off of the other, sitting next to his little brother as his little brother in question hugged his middles and giggled tiredly. 

“Y-Yohou could ohof juhuhust sahaid ahall of thahat wihihithout tickling meeheee…” The younger grumbled despite the evident smile on his face.

“And where’s the fun in that?” Donnie smiled back, his expression softening as Leo got up and leaned against him softly. The older wraped an arm around the younger’s shoulder, pulling him closer into a warm, protective gesture. 

“Ahand would yohohou look ahat that! Ihi got yohour emo bahad boy ahahass to smile todahay. Your eheeven hugging me~!” The blue banded leader spoke softly, his voice filled with affection as he poked his twin’s forehead cheekily. 

“You tell anyone that and I will not hesitate to deny that extremely untrue statement.” The scientist huffed, rolling his eyes fondly as his smile spread.

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙵𝙸𝙽˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙ 

(𝙿.𝚂.: 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐!!!)

[rosenclaws]

Call me cliche but I need more angsty Logan fics that follow all the tropes. Give me the jealous misunderstanding. Give me the injured fics. Give me the not so one sided pining. Give me the miscommunication fics. I don’t care how many of them exist I need MORE

[rainy-day-revelry]

For all my Fairy!Hyrule lovers who also appreciate a bit of angst, may I remind you:

Faefolk hate the color red as it reminds them of iron filled blood, including red berries. Mayhaps they hurt to eat just like iron hurts to touch?

You can break fae magic by turning your clothing inside out. I’ve seen this shown as the fae being unable to see you, or in some cases unable to perceive your presence at all

Several plants are thought to repel fae, such as boxwood or rowan, but you could really use any plant for this purpose. I see daisies used a lot.

Fae can’t lie, only dance around the topic. Can Rulie?

As mentioned, iron hurts fae. You know what most armor contains at least a little of?

Dancing with a fae often leaves you trapped dancing forever until you die of exhaustion or your magical captor frees you. Rulie doesn’t have much experience with his fae powers, or with dancing. Would he know how?

Pretty please, run wild. Give me more full-fae Rulie, and give me consequences for that

[lesbianpepsi]

Fuck it I love you | part II

pairing: sam carpenter x fem!reader

summary: When paired with Tara Carpenter for a project you were expecting a B or maybe even an A. Not falling in love with Tara's older sister, Sam.

series masterlist

words: 2.627k

warnings: light swearing, reader is a oblivious idiot,

authors note: i love y'all, remember to stay hydrated and stay safe:)

You have been going to the Carpenter apartment quite frequently after your first visit there; the nervous first time going over there jitters you had completely vanished. Your and Tara’s progress on the project had decreased but neither you cared, especially you. 

On the second week of heading over to Tara's place it was hotter than usual in New York.

The sun danced in the clear blue skies as it warmed up the world to a heat that border-lined into uncomfortable.

Sighing dramatically you dropped your head till it collided with the table with a thud.

"It's too hot to be working." You grumbled through the avalanche of pieces of papers and notebooks that filled up the dining room table.

Tara giggled, clearly amused as she stopped writing for a second. "It's hot but bearable." 

You shook your head against the table, tilting your head to the side to get a look at her. "It's not bearable, i'm sweating like a pig."

"You're not sweating like a pig, you're just being dramatic."  She quipped back with a smile, looking at you with raised eyebrows.

Rolling your eyes you picked your head back up, sitting up straight on the wooden chair again. "You say dramatic, I say the truth."

She chuckled as she began writing again on the paper, her penmanship unbelievably much better than yours.

"If you're that hot then there's a watermelon in the fridge, feel free to cut some slices." You didn't hesitate another second before you jumped up from your seat and headed towards the kitchen.

Opening the magnet covered fridge you quickly spotted the half cut watermelon wrapped in a thin layer cling film, with a greedy smile you took it out of the fridge before gently placing it on the closet cutting board.

"You want a slice?" You asked, turning back to look at her, she turned to look at you, nodding her head with a little smile. "Please."

Turning back to look at the watermelon you unwrapped it, tossing the plastic to the side as you eyed up the wooden knife block. 

Each knife grew in size at every slit made in the box, you opted for the largest knife. A satisfying noise filled your ears as you pulled out the sharp knife, the blade glistening from the sunlight directing into the apartment window.

Skilfully you sliced a few slices of watermelon for you and Tara, placing the two slices on a plate.  You were about to begin cleaning up when you heard a laugh from the other room, your eyes widened as you remembered who else was here.

Sam! 

Maybe Sam, Mindy and Chad would want some watermelons, you thought to yourself, a nervous smile growing on your face as you thought of Sam.

The woman practically lived in your mind ever since you met her, her grumpy glare never failing to light up your day.

Without another thought you walked over towards the living room, the sound of laughter getting louder as you entered. 

"Sam?" You asked gingerly with a nervous smile still on your face. At the sound of your voice the trio turned to look at you, their eyes widening dramatically as they froze.

Sam's eyes are glued to your hand before they lock with your eyes, her dark eyes cold and wary. 

You noticed Chad moving his arm over Mindy as he used his large build to hide most of her, as if he's hiding her away from you as they shuffled backwards.

"Would you like a slice?" You asked her with a joyful smile, completely unaware of the panic rising between the trio. Not noticing how dark your innocent words could be heard as.

"I've cut some watermelon slices if you'd like one, and you two can have some too of course." 

Sam's eyes flicked back down to the knife in your hand as the blade glistened with a light red liquid, dripping onto the floor.

"Watermelon?" She questioned as she slowly stood up, not moving closer towards you. You nodded your head, your smile growing nervously as Sam actually interacted with you.

"Yeah!" Without thinking you raised your hand which carried the knife to point towards the kitchen. "I could go and get them if you'd like?"

Sam glanced over your shoulder and into the doorway of the kitchen. "Tara?" She yelled with a small wobble to her voice.

You cocked your head to the side confused as to why she was asking for Tara. 

"Yeah?" Tara replied from the kitchen, not bothering to get up. "Are you okay?" She asked, her dark eyes returning back to yours. You smiled sweetly at her, she glared heavily at you.

A dull sound from the kitchen rang throughout the room before Tara joined the rest of you in the living room. 

It didn't take a genius to understand why Sam is so confused.

"Y/n, what're you doing with the knife?" Tara asked as she looked between you and the wet knife. You waved your hand back to the kitchen, the blade skimming past your cheek. Tara's breath hitched momentarily at your carelessness with the knife in your hand.

"I was cutting up the watermelons?" You explained, confused to why you are getting so many questions that didn't answer your question; did Sam want a watermelon slice?

Tara sighed as she took the knife from your hand, glancing at Sam who visibly looked much more relaxed with you no longer holding the knife. 

"Go get your slices, Y/n." She said with a laugh. You nodded your head as you headed towards the kitchen to grab the plate full of slices for everyone.

—————

The 'Watermelon incident' - as Tara called it- got you suspended from the apartment for two days. 

When Tara told you that you were royally confused and even slightly hurt, but when you thought about the situation the more you realised how concerned and even angry that must've made the twins and Sam. You couldn't help but feel bad as you texted your apologies to everyone through Tara. She found the situation humorous but Sam certainly didn't. 

"Wanna come to the gym with me?" Melanie -your best friend- asked you randomly as she paused the movie the two of you have been watching for the past hour.

You give her a disgusted look. "The gym? Why the hell would you wanna go to the gym on a Saturday?" You asked her, completely bewildered by the idea. Saturdays are for being lazy and relaxing, not working out so on Sunday you'll be sore and uncomfortable.

Melanie shrugged her shoulders. "I need to get started on my New Year's resolution."

"It's July." You say.

"And? I already know that." The blonde replied as if you're the idiot. "You haven't been to the gym at all this year and you decide halfway through the year to begin your resolutions?"

She rolled her eyes, folding her arms over her chest. "Going to the gym at least five times was my resolution, not live there. I think I'd actually die if I went there consistently." 

You chuckled as you smiled at her. Melanie grinned as she slapped her knees, standing up. 

"Is that a yes?" 

You scoffed, shaking your head. "No way."

She groaned as she grabbed your hands attempting to pull you up, but you weren't budging. 

"C'mon, I'm bored and all we've been doing today is listen to you talk about Sam and how excited you are for the Barbie movie." 

"Two very valid and fun topics." You defend as you pull your hands back. Melanie didn't give up as she kept trying to tug you up. "For you. I've never even met this Sam you're obsessed with."

Your stance weakened at her slight dig at your crush, at that Melanie swiftly pulled you to your feet. Ignoring the fact Melanie won the game of tug of war you crossed your arms over your chest.

"I am not obsessed with Sam." You said with weak authority. The blonde raised her eyebrows teasingly as she mimicked your stance. "Oh yeah? Prove it. Come to the gym with me instead of lounging here and talking about Sam."

You clenched your jaw as you debated your options. If you stayed in your shared apartment then all you'd do is create fake scenarios about you and Sam while listening to Lana Del Rey and you'd prove Melanie right. If you went with her to the gym you certainly would be distracted from Sam plaguing your thoughts due to the fact you'd be dying.

There was simply no winning. 

With a sigh you nodded your head weakly, your pride getting the best of you.

"Fine, I'll come with you." Melanie's smug smile urges you to take back your words but before you get the chance she's already grabbing at your wrist and dragging you towards your room.

"Get changed and for the love of god please bring a big ass water bottle with you. I'll meet you in my car."

You grumble out a response but do what she asked you to do. You didn't have many "gym" clothes so you simply decided on a pair of shorts and a shirt that were dark enough so they wouldn't reveal your sweat stains. 

Once you had filled the large bottle of water you double checked you had your phone and wallet before meeting Melanie in her car. She was already inside it and behind the wheel as Korn played loudly.

"We'll have fun, I promise." She reassured you as she started to drive towards the gym. You scoffed as you nodded your head. "Yeah sure."

Melanie and you arrived at the gym after twenty minutes, her being ecstatic to finally actually use her gym membership card. 

"Alright, what should we do first?" Melanie asked you as you two entered the surprisingly quiet gym. 

"I don't know about you but I'm heading towards the treadmill." You replied as you walked over to the treadmill section without waiting for her response. 

You hear her groan from behind you with footsteps following you soon after.

From the view on the treadmill it gave you further access to use the entire gym. 

A myriad of different people doing various different activities that you admired greatly, impressed by these strangers who clearly loved the gym.

But a pair of people caught your attention immediately, Melanie's too.  

"Holy shit that might be the most gorgeous man I have ever seen in my life." She whispered breathlessly next to as she jogged at a slow speed on the treadmill. You swallowed nervously as you gazed at the woman next to the man, she's using one of the pull up bars while the man sat next to her using a stupidly heavy dumbbell. 

A grey tank top on her figure as she flexed her back and shoulders muscles, pulling herself up and down flawlessly.

You glanced at the man as you walked on the treadmill. 

"Oh my god it's Chad and Sam." You whisper yelled to Melanie, turning to face her with wide eyes. "If the workout doesn't kill me, seeing her working out will actually stop my heart!"

A shit eating grin quickly appeared on Melanie's face as she turned to look at you. "Damn, I'm straight but I can totally see why you're obsessed with her."

"I'm not obsessed with her." You reminded her as you glanced back at Sam's muscles flexing beautifully under the light, a small sweat on her skin which glazed her skin making her look even more attractive.

You could feel your heartbeat pick up its pace and you're more than sure it's not because of the slow pace you're doing on the treadmill. 

"Sure you're not. Let's go over there then." She proposed with a sly grin. 


You shake your head instantly at her words, chuckling nervously. "Isn't it like gym code to never disturb someone while they're working out?"

Melanie sighed as she played with the screen of the treadmill making it go faster. "You're right." You grinned triumphantly. "Guess I'll just go to ask Chad for some help when he's done with his rep." Your smile dropped. 

"And leave me so you can try to flirt with him?" Melanie nodded her head.

You didn't reply as you tried to focus on anywhere that wasn't Sam's glorious back. 

Jesus christ, maybe you are obsessed with this woman. 

After a solid ten minutes of a decent pace Melanie abruptly stopped her machine as she hopped off. You turned to look at her confused as you kept walking. 

"I'm going to go on the bench press and ask Chad for some help, see you soon babe." She confirmed with a comfort smirk, giving you a wink before she headed towards Chad and Sam's direction.

You didn't dare move off of the treadmill as your eyes followed Melanie's figure heading towards the two as Chad had finished his reps.

As she arrived at where Chad and Sam were working out, Sam slowed down as Chad smiled up at her. 

Whatever Melanie said to Chad must've worked since both were grinning like fools as they headed towards where the bench press was at.

You chuckled to yourself as you watched the two momentarily as Chad "helped" her with the bench press. 

Unconsciously your eyes flickered back to where Sam was at, to your surprise she wasn't there anymore.

"Y/n." Sam's gruff voice greeted you as she hopped on the treadmill. Your feet tripped over each other but thankfully you not so gracefully caught yourself as you smiled at her, not expecting to see her.

"Sam! Nice to see you again, how've you been doing?" You asked with a nervous laugh as your heart rate picked up once again. 

"I've been okay. You?" She asked dryly as she increased the speed to her treadmill, jogging with a speed that doubled your slow walking pace. 

You smiled dreamily at her, not bothered at all by her dry tone. "I've been alright thanks for asking, how's Tara been?" 

Sam's interest piqued due to you asking about her sister, a small, an almost non existent smile appeared on her lips. 

"Tara's good, she's currently with Mindy playing Mario Kart. She sucks tremendously at it." Her smile grew the more she talked about her younger sister, it didn't fail to make your heart soar.

"You're a good sister, you know." You mention with your own smile, increasing your pace slightly. "It's obvious you care a lot about her and I find that really sweet. Tara's lucky to have you as a sister." 

Sam didn't say anything; the sounds of yours and her footsteps filled the growing silence. You didn't mind, as long as you're with Sam you'll take it.

You and Sam jogged side by side in a comfortable silence for another ten minutes before Sam stopped her own machine, you glanced at her and couldn't help but find the flush on her cheeks completely adorable.

Something Tara would call you a lunatic for.

She's breathing heavily as her eyes locked with yours, a crooked weak smile on her face. 

"Thank you." She said in a tone that wasn't her usual dark and dry tone. Your ears warmed up as your eyes twinkled with joy at her words.  

"You don't have to thank me when all I'm doing is saying the truth, Sam." You assured her as you carried on walking, the excessive beating of your heart now being a mix of Sam's small smile and your increasing speed.

Sam stayed silent once again, giving you a curt nod before she turned her back, heading towards the changing room. 

God, Melanie was right, you're obsessed with her.