#goin thru it. you know how it is

[harlequinalis]

indrik

[meowfeverzzz]

WAWAWAWAWAAAAAAA

[pastellguts]

Life is hard, but when all else fails, draw mermaids.

siren/mermaid au belongs to @weather-mood

[themulitipurposechannel]

Fic: This is victory (hollow and cold).

inspired by @goodlucktai and their incredible story “Raised on little light”

Part: Two

Tw: major character death, grief, suicide idealisation, disassociation, starvation, slight description of injuries and inaccurate medical advice

This is hope.

_

The air is much chillier today. Once upon a time, that would be the herald of their highly anticipated snow day. Emojis will flood the family groupchat, plans will be made, schedules will be cleared, homework conspicuously forgotten. But that was then. This is now.

Leo's memorial hangs above them like a haunting guillotine. It would be better if he actually was haunting this place. Anything is better than this.

"Hi" Mikey smiles weakly, trying to play off his squeak of suprise into faux causalness. "I saved you lunch."

Raph nods. "Thanks" he pokes at the reheated chicken curry and rice in silence. It's good. It always is. But it feels like ash most days.

"So how was patrol? You're not usually back this early." Mikey bless his soul. He's trying so hard.

It hurts as much as it warms the snapper's heart. His littlest brother, trying so hard to scrap together just a little more light for all of them, like he wasn’t crying himself to sleep every night, the ‘if I was just a little faster’ eating him up alive.

(Dead in the middle of the night, the snapping alligator turtle returns back from patrol and freezes just outside a colourful subway car. Soft shaking sobs, creep out from just beyond the unlit car.

Raph wants nothing more than to walk in, scoop his little brother into his arms and never let anything hurt him ever again. But the memory of pink tendrils and ‘if this is the end I want to let you know that I’m sorry’ hold him in place. Raph is not safe.

So shamefully, cowardly, like every night before this, the eldest brother turns and walks away.)

Michelangelo deserves better than this.

But Raphael is not safe.

"It was fine just... loud. You know how humans are" The snapper shrugs half-heartedly, sitting across the table from the box turtle. It was more than that. Cheerful music, parading crowd. Raph gets it, he does. By all accounts it's a good thing. A victory over the failed invasion. Humanity won, Yokai-kind won too. And knowing of it or not, the whole of earth won as well.

They have no idea what bled for them that day. What still bleeds for them to this day. Raph tries to stomach it till he couldn't no more. Grief festering in his chest till he punched a hole through an old construction site. That, was when he knew he had to head home to their dojo before he did something he regrets. Which actually... is something he should get back too. He still too angry.. he's not. Raph's not safe.

"Hah.. New York what a town right?" Mikey nudges him shyly, blind to the danger present. Raph flinches, jerking away. Raph's not safe.

"Mikey! Careful-!" The red snapper snaps immediately deflating in muted horror at the younger turtle’s grimace. What is he doing? He’s scaring him! “I-geez, sorry. sorry.” The floor is suddenly much more interesting to look at now. “Raph was just thinking of going to the dojo” The snapper sags.

"Oh okay.. I see” Mikey’s smile wobbles, at the corner of his eye, Raph can see it. “That’s.. that’s ok, big bro. have fun." His voice is pitched just a tiny bit too high. Raph doesn’t need to look at Mikey directly, years of growing up togather tell him the box turtle is barely choking back tears.

It's another stab at his already leaking heart, his baby brother always so loud with his emotions has no right being this subdued. You already leave him to cry alone. Mind Raph reminds him, firm but not cruel. Raph would really prefer it if he was. He wants you to stay. You can at least do this much.

"Actually, the dojo can wait. You got lots on your plate right?" Raph quickly pivots, motioning to the half filled sink."Raph will help you clean up" The older teen picks up his plate and starts towards the sink, still keeping a wide berth between them.

The result is instantaneous. The sun breaks through the stormy clouds. Mikey looks like he can damn near combust from how widely he is grinning, trying and failing to hide the not so subtle flutter of his hands in a happy stim.

It makes the snapper’s heart want to burst. Once, a long time ago this would be the time Raph would sweep his baby brother, sunshine personified, into a big crushing hug, a playful noogie included. But that was then. This is now.

Instead slowly, carefully, Raph reaches out and briefly pats Mikey’s head. Proud of himself for barely shaking this time. It’s such a small thing, it used to be so easy. Still Mikey gratefully drinks it all in, like a cactus to water in a desert.

“So you draw anything new?” Raph tries to ask. Immediately grimacing at the awkwardness of it all. Talking used to be so easy. What happened to them?

Luckily Mikey seems to take it in stride. Happy to talk and talk and talk about the new charcoal medium he was trying, the weird Lou jitsu memorabilia he found while cleaning (Since when did Mikey clean?? Willingly??) under the couch and the one or two grocery’s hauls done by April. No mention of Mikey begging April let him go topside with her. No mention of any junkyard trips with Donnie(not that Raph was surprised). No trips outside. No detours. Nothing.

Since when did that happen too? Distinctly Raph can remember many a time spent furiously wrangling a tiny little brother over the phone for him to come home. Because it’s getting late, the sun is coming up, Big man that alley isn’t going to run away, you can come back later please-

His little brother, for all his box turtle homing instincts, loved to explore, weather it be to discover small family shops in the hidden city or find a new spot for graffiti topside. Discovering new things was his thing, it’s what made Michelangelo, Michelangelo. Then again how much did the snapper really know of his brothers nowadays huh? He pushes that thought aside before he can dwell on it any further not wanting to sour this rare lightness.

“…And then I spent the rest of the day trying get rid of those annoying cobwebs!” Mikey shakes his head. “Dad was right we really need to clean our rafters more!” The box turtles huffs as he places a now clean plate into their cabinet.

But the last time Raph remembered dad complaining, or the tell-tale swoosh of a lab door being opened was 14 months ago.

Pizza supreme, Raph blinks, swaying a little. That was why the box turtle drank in any and all touch Raph gave. This poor kid, oh god his poor baby brother, one of their most sociable and people loving family members, technically with Leo gone Mikey was the only one now.

All alone for months on end with the only indication that he wasn’t the only living soul in the lair, was the occasional bags of food that appeared by the lair’s entrance and the empty plates by Donnie’s lab and Pop’s room. Mikey must be so, so touch starved. How long has the box turtle been doing this? How did they let this get so bad? How did they not notice? What happened to us? The eldest brother mourns. If nothing else, he resolves to at least try to give his poor, touch starved brother one head pat every other day. He’s already failed Leo and Donnie, he can’t fail Mikey too.

Unbidden, Raph can’t help but remember a time just last week, where he had punched their punching bag clean off its chain. Only to return an hour later with a new one already in its place. At that time he assumed it was Donnie (with all his all seeing cameras and regular but eerily silent maintenance to all their appliances. No more loudly complaining over who broke their toaster) who replaced it but now-

Tap.Tap.Tap.

“Raphie..? Raphala?” Mikey smiles sweetly but hesitantly. Thankfully, the box turtle seemed to learn his lesson earlier. Instead of touching the older turtle like before, Mikey taps the countertop to get Raph’s attention. “Is everything ok?”

“Oh yeh;Raph’s good.” Raph shakes his head. “Was just thinking”

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Big doe eyes somehow get wider. Once upon a time that would have been enough to make Raph cave.

“Your uhm-hands are doing good.” Raph cringes, painfully adverting his gaze. Mikey scowls, with narrowed eyes that says ‘Boi you are not slick’. But the days of loud Dr Delicate touch, fearlessly climbing or latching on top of his brothers and pushing,and pushing, until they fess up are far behind them.

So instead, Mikey sighs and with a worn smile, he says. “You know you can always talk to me right Raph?”

“I.. I know.” Raph nods, beak quirking into crumpled facsimile of a smile, cuz gosh does he know. All those Dr feelings seminars. Raph shudders to himself. But this, something about their ‘this’ will always feel too much like a raw nerve or a live wire his other little brother was way too fond of playing with. Shit, he missed Donnie so much. How was it possible to miss someone who was still alive this much? Some days it really did feel like he lost two little brothers instead of one. One was already one too many.

With a shake of his head Raph forces himself back into his body. No need to space out twice now. He already promised himself he’ll try for Mikey. If Donnie, April and Dad weren’t going to be here. Raph would at least try, so that’s exactly what he was going to do.

“Same goes for you too, big man” The snapper gestures to the box turtle with his chin. And he means it he does.

Mikey hums, nodding. Resuming his task.

The sound dissolves into the quiet clinking of plates and sloshing water. Not quite uncomfortable but not quite comfortable either.

“Is your eye doing ok?” Mikey ask, trying to steer them to more comfortable waters.

“It’s fine.” Raph answers, happy to take the out. “More than fine. Doesn’t ache at all actually. Just numb and a little tingly.”

“Oh mi gosh! You too?”

Surprised, Raph snaps his head towards an equally wide eyed Mikey. It breaks his heart. His little brother used to be so much louder than this. Raph tries to smile encouragingly, prompting the orange turtle to continue.

“My hands still shake sometimes. But every time I think they’re going to start hurting they just don’t” The box turtle pouts . “Even Barry was surprised. He says it’s supposed to hurt. I just feel tingly and numb too”. His face scrunches briefly, disgruntled. “-makes it hard to know when I overdo it though.” To demonstrate, Mikey wiggles all 6 fingers in a loose jazz hands gesture. Smiling slightly.

A surprised laughs tears out from the older brothers beak; equal parts exasperated and fond. He doesn’t know what why, it wasn’t really that funny. But something about the silly gesture must have reached him somewhere. Because here he is, airy and softer but still,laughing.

Delighted, Mikey giggles back. Eyes wet. How long has it been since he last heard his brother laugh?

If only Leo was here.

If only this could last forever.

But Something suffocates the precious warmth instantly

Mikey's hold on the plate shatters. It drops to the ground breaking into a million pieces.

Speak of the ghosts and the ghosts will come.

(Deep Down, beneath them, inside of them, around them, where the space of RedPurpleOrangeGreenWhite swirl around each other so close yet so far. No longer able to bear the thought of intersection but unable bear the thought of tearing away from each other.

Nonono-

Something withers. something dies.

Like the chime of Blue saying ‘Hero moves are totally your style’

Before it winks out from existence, leaving a gaping hole behind. It doesn’t even bleed. It would have been better if it at least bled. Now its just empty-

No please we can’t go through this again-)

Frantically, head partially in his chest, the box turtle staggers, looking around fearfully, spots glowing orange in alarm.

"Where-?" Mikey starts.

For the first time in months, pure big brother instinct completely overrides his anxiety, Raph grabs for Mikey. Tucking him protectively under his shoulder protectively and races towards Donnie's lab. He'll be there. The softshell never left these days.

For the first time since they laid their Blue to rest. The sliding door to Pop's room bursts open.

"Boys! How-!?” Splinter yells rushing toward them.

"We're all fine! I don't know! " Mikey cries back, slightly giddy over the most physical contact he’s gotten in months, despite the current situation. Meanwhile Raph damn near breaks down the softshell’s door. His eye twitches. “Donnie! Donnie!! Open the door!”

For the first time in months, an achingly familiar voice answers back. “I’m okay! I know! I know! Sweet Galileo I’m trying to fix it!"

The door opens with a swoosh, releasing a gust stale air into their faces. A frazzled Donnie steps out. Eyebags galore and stench of old coffee stronger than Raph’s notorious fear stink. Raph bites down the urge to lecture the teen’s bed wrangled state.

The purple teen in question, is typing furiously on his computer wrist, while his phone is tucked between his shoulder and his face. April's voice can heard from its speaker. Yelling confusion.

(Wrong wrong wrong. The shared space of their already off kilter family mystic sways dangerously. It's quiet, too quiet. Large steady Red drapes over his remaining universe tightly, shielding orangepurplegreenwhite in a protective shield.

The colours mix. They reach for each other for the first time in months both inside and outside in shared confusion and terror.

Where?

What's going on?

We're all here.

So.. why?

But then just as quickly as it came. The ringing silence is gone. Their constellation is settles back into its uncertain balance, all is well.

Huh?

Wait. Resilient Green hushes them, listen. Tentatively, they reach out to where they hadn’t thought to do before.

Ba-dump Ba-dump Ba-dump

It's a heartbeat. One of them realises in dawning horror.

But who?

Who else can possibly be here with them that can throw them further off balance now?

An image of similarly decorated kneepads flashes in Orange's mind. He pushes that image to the rest.

Guys. Casey.

On que, the teal heartbeat flatlines.

Oh no.

Before it staggers to its feet. Irregular and slow.

Alien relief washes over them. It wrestles with well-worn distrust and bitterness.)

“We need to find future boy.” Pops states, voice raspy from a year of disuse and places a hand on Donnie’s arm. The sudden contact nearly startles the softshell into dropping his phone. Not that Raph can blame him. He can scarcely believe dad is here either. “He owes us some answers”

In the end, they decide to split up to cover more ground. Unsurprisingly, the future protoge found a way to disable Future Donnie’s comm line. Or at least found a way to undo whatever Donnie did to sync future boy’s comm to their comm system. So contacting him directly is not an option.

It takes two hours. One wild goose chase and trying so hard to listen a nigh invisible heartbeat. When April (what would they ever do without her) points out, “Hey didn’t future boy say they lived in caves?”

Before they focus their efforts solely to the underground. Mikey took the sewers, Raph in the underground maintainance tunnels and April and Splinter in the abandoned train stations while Donnie continued to search the city’s database for any more underground structures they could check.

It’s been 3 more hours since then and one more cliff-hanging flatline.

The snapper rubs at his unseeing eye, annoyed. If he knew it was going to start aching today he would have taken some pain meds.

A creaking noise grabs his attention.

Raph looks up, seeing a half loose ceiling panel swaying in the drafty tunnel. He can’t fit. Maybe April or Mikey can. But they’re halfway across the city’s underground sector. Do it scared, do it scared. It seems today was just full of pushing past his fear huh?

So standing on his tiptoes, Raph sticks his head up the hole, his breath hitches. The smell alone makes his eyes water.

There, nestled between the tunnel’s false ceiling and actual ceiling is his little brother's killer, the one locked the door on his Leo while there was a monster with his little brother on the other side, (nevermind the fact that Leo asked him too) surrounded by rotting rat carcasses and so much more impossibly thin and still, if it weren’t for the flagging teal he’d think the boy was already dead.

Raph doesn’t know if it’s because of the revelation of distant family or the boy’s pitiful state or because of his years spent as the eldest brother, the one who is the biggest, the one who takes care of them all. Oh he's too small, Raph can’t help but think.

This is their family Ninpo. It runs on love and trust: Even at the height of their ancestor's obession with martyrdom, there had been love and trust buried in there somewhere. The family mystic wouldn't have survived to their current generation otherwise.

But Casey’s is not buried in the ground. It is not the kind that martyrs their own at the first opportunity. Not even for good reason.

It wells a confused pity, soured by residual anger. future boy; all alone. Displaced in a timeline not his own and disowned by the only remnants of familiarity.

Gingerly, carefully and trying not to have a panic attack over the prospect of prolonged contact. Deep breaths. Just take deep breathes. You’re the only one who can do this. Breathe. You picked up Mikey, and he was fine. you can do it again. It’s just for a little while. Trembling down to a manageable level, Raph then lifts the unconscious human up and down through the rafter hole. The movement causes stained, loosely tied bandages to slip, and the stench goes from bad to downright horrendous.

The overpowering smell of sewer and pus nearly makes him drop the kid into dirty sewer water and gag. Which is saying something cuz Raph grew up in the sewers. The snapper is no medic, but pizza supreme, he knows humans aren’t supposed to be this warm nor is their flesh is supposed to leak yellow or swell such an angry red.

Holding the boy at arms length, Raph lifts his comms to his face. “I found future boy. Heading back to the lair now. He’s hurt bad.” If he sounds a little breathless no one points it out. He doesn’t stay long enough the rest of the group’s verbal assent. There are too many thoughts in his head. Raph doesn’t know what to feel as he walks back through the dark tunnels.

.

.

.

It’s 3am when the search finally concludes, too long since the mutant turtles and rat last ate lunch and too late for April to make the journey back to her apartment.

She stays overnight for the first time since that day. The group stand around the living room in silence. The rush of trying to stabilise the med-bay-bound time traveler is finally over and with it, their crushing spector returns with a vengeance.

“Well, I guess I’ll go get dinner started then!” Mikey smiles nervously, ducking out to escape to the kitchen. “I hope you guys don’t mind lasagna !” He calls.

Sharing one last glance, the rest disperse. No words need to be said, they all know their roles. Even months apart and drowning in unnatural silence, cannot wash away the years of laying this foundation.

April grabs the plates and utensils, Raph and Donnie start to round up the assortment of beanbags and chairs scattered across the lair and bring it to the table while Splinter hovers near the kitchen doorway, in case Mikey needed him. He was the only one, save April or occasionally Raph, who Mikey trusted in his kitchen. They were supposed to be banned together. Set of a pair.

“Ah” April chokes up, freezing mid-plate placement. Worried, Donnie walks over, leaving Raph to set the last beanbag. “April what’s wrong?”

In response, a strangled gasp (it sounds suspiciously like tears) escapes from his older sister, she shakes her head unable to continue. The soft shell frowns and begins counting the plates with his hand. One, Two, Three.. yes, there were six plates. Donnie doesn’t see the issue, six plates for six people-himself, April, Dad, Raph, Mikey, Le- Oh. His hand drops. Suddenly the cold tiles beneath him go from unnoticeable to digging pins and needles into his heels. Hurts, hurts everything hurts.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry” April shakes, She’s crying, Donnie is frozen. His heart beats a rabbit quick. Donnie doesn’t know what to do. He can’t do. His other half is gone, His big sister rarely ever cries, the faint sounds from the kitchen are too much.I can’t do this. It’s all too much.

The softshell doesn’t realise he’s hyperventilating till a solid warmth rests on his shoulders.

“Donnie? Dee..? Hey. It’s ok. Copy me and Mikey ok? Deep breath in, deep breath out”

A deep rumbling churr and a raspingly familiar lullaby, one that he hasn’t heard since he was a tot, joins them in the undertone.

He forces his breaths to slow. Safe. You are safe.

Squeezing the tears from his eyes. His vision clears, and somehow the softshell finds himself sitting on the ground with a weighted blanket draped on him. April is kneeled in front to him, Mikey and Splinter beside her. While Mikey and her exaggerate their breaths for him to follow. His father’s lullaby draws to a close. Come back

Behind him, his big brother shivers, still churring, a comforting presence no blanket can ever achieve.

Confused, Donnie arches a brow at his younger brother and father. Weren’t they supposed to be in the kitchen?

Familiar with his nonverbal gestures, Mikey speaks softy, for the softshell’s comfort. “You know how dad is. Pointy ears and all. He heard you hyperventilating, I saw him try to leave.. well you know.” The box turtle shrugs. “Dinner’s already in the oven, it’ll be fine.”

It’s truly a testament to how off-kilter everyone is, when Dad refrains from using his tail to smack the youngest for the ears comment.

Donnie nods stiffly, still not quite able to push past the weight holding his tongue.

He feels naked, exposed. Yet…somehow his body feels more relaxed and unwound than it has ever been in months, as if finally awoken from a long dream. For the first time, Donnie turns and lets his eyes wander around their lair, truly look at it. Not shamble through its halls during the witching hours half dead and with a single minded focus on: coffee, fix the occasional appliance, and returning to his lab.

The cobwebs by the rafters are gone. The playstation controllers are neatly stacked, the floor. The floor. A chill creeps back up his feet and into his hands. Gone is the stubborn layer of dust, dirt and crumbs that somehow always managed to coat the floor. It’s clean. It not supposed to be clean. Not even with three teenage boys.

I have become a ghost in my own home. The softshell blinks, dazed. How much has he missed? The genius wonders with no small amount of dread.

Mikey cocks his head to the side, cautiously curious. “Do you want to talk about it? Signing works too.”

The softshell’s feels his shoulders rise, ice all over. gone.gone. Gone. Six plates. A broken set. How he could be possibly explain this? How could he possibly articulate that kind of agony.

Sensing the return of the younger boy’s spiral, April shoulder checks him, disrupting the thought train. “It’s my fault. I was setting the table but then I realised-” Her voice wavers, but no new tears spill out. “- I realised I grabbed six plates”

Grieving understanding darkens everyone else’s face.

“Yeah.” April laughs sardonically. “I’m being a terrible big sister right now aren’t I?”

Donnie frowns, vermantly. As does everyone else in protest.

“April no..”

“That’s not true-”

“Green..”

“Guys stop.” She holds her hands up , Let me finish. She adds unspoken. They let her. Because when April O’Neil wanted to say something you listened.

“You guys don’t have to make me feel better ok? I know.” She whispers, wrapping her arms around herself in some modicum of comfort. “You’re my family.” The 19 year old cries heartbroken, bowing her head in shame. “You’re my family, you guys needed me and I avoided this place like the plague. Because it hurt too much to be here.” Unspoken their eyes drift to Leo’s memorial before returning back to each other.

“You were hurting…” Raph offers up, no longer churring.

“We’re all hurting! That doesn’t make it an excuse!” April hisses, snapping up to meet the second eldest’s gaze. Her eyes fierce even with a fresh set of tears. The snapper shrinks.

The human crumbles too, instant regret colours her face. “Oh, big guy I’m so sorry.” Gently, slowly she reaches out a tentative hand to the largest turtle. He leans into it, only to draw back at the very last second.

She presses lips into a thin line to keep herself from crying harder. April nods, eyes flashing in pained understanding. She sighs, steeling herself and then continues.

“When that void hit our Ninpo.. again” they all grimace in mutual disgust . “Fuck.. I was terrified. it was like being stuck on the ground again where we had to watch Leo, except worse.” She cups her hands to her face. “Because this time, I stayed away on purpose.”

“What if it wasn’t Casey? But one of you ?” She looks off into the distance, haunted. “What if the last memory you all had of me was off the worst day of our lives, instead of me telling you guys how much I love you. Because I do.” She says, wrecked with grief. But also love Always love. “Splints you’re my weird uncle, and you boys are my little brothers. I can’t lose you guys.”

Unable to contain himself anymore, Mikey loops his arms around her waist and burrows into her side. She reciprocates eagerly, wrapping an arm around her youngest brother and pulling him closer. “You’re not the only one who was pulling away.” The box turtle says sadly.

To the side, the former actor turned father and current Hamato patriarch says nothing, he watches his beloved sons and niece(?)semi-ward(?), (bah, doesn’t matter she’s family) silently. Deep in thought.

“Michel’s right.” Donnie chimes in, finally able to get his tongue working. They all look to him with varying degrees of suprise. Which is fair, he’s not exactly the picture of emotional vulnerability or mental health. None of them are. Donnie swallows down a lump. He does not want to do this. Newton’s beard does he not want to do this.

But his home is being warped around him. There is sterility where there should be chaos. Mikey is withdrawn, Raph is touch adverse, April is crying and Papa has not once complained bout missing any off his TV shows. We’re breaking. Donnie realises with hysterical dread. They’re barreling to the point of no return, and if something doesn’t give soon, they might be too far gone from themselves and each other, to ever fit back together.

He’s already bleeding out from the space where his twin used to be. Losing them like this, in any form will truly be the final gun shot to his brain. And they definitely won’t survive losing his genius either.

“I don’t.. I don’t think I know what to do with myself without Leo around.” He shifts uneasily, adverting his eyes from his family. “But I don’t want to leave you guys alone.” He grimaces, picking at his nails in nervous tick. “And I know.. leaving per se, isn’t what Leo would want. So as I’m sure as some of you know..” Donnie casts what he hopes is an apologetic look to Raph and Mikey. The ones he was sure felt his absence most keenly, like it or not, his father and him had very similar coping mechanisms, ie: drowning themselves in whatever be it TV shows or inventing to distract themselves from reality. “..I try to keep myself busy.” The softshell finishes.

Raph pales at the implication. “Donnie..” he says pained, but doesn’t make a move to hold the soft shell. Instead his hands brush against the younger teen’s shoulders tense and longing. Donnie tries not to take it personally.

He feels his dad’s tail wraps around his waist and squeeze. “I am so sorry, my son.”

Tearing up, Mikey slowly unwinds himself from April and holds out his arms in invitation. Donnie leans forward and the box turtle pulls Donnie into a hug, squeezing him with all the fierce, warm love only the sun like him can give. “Thank you for telling us. And thank you for staying.” His little brother says fiercely.

“I can never leave you all without my genius” He hugs Mikey back. Because it is true. Leo is his other half. But his whole world has always been made up of RaphLeoMikeyAprilPapa and the numerous tiny planets that made up his love for science and mechanical engineering.

It’s funny really. The genius locked himself in his lab, threw himself into home security, and chipped away at the backlogs of blueprints that had accumulated over the years, all in an effort to slow the bleeding. There could be no space for grief and the ‘just a little left and you can join him’ if he worked himself to exhaustion.

It kept him from thinking. It kept him in stasis. It kept him and his katana-sharp grief from spilling out and poisoning his beloved family. But he already did, didn’t he? For all his genius he failed to account how his absence was a poison too.

Yet this small pocket of family comforting him, helping him through his recent meltdown has done more to warm the chill and bandage the wrongness of gone gone gone-Something intrinsic to Hamato Donatello is gone- than any machine or programme he worked himself to death making.

Truthfully, Donnie doesn’t know if he can ever truly live with being half of a whole or a piece of his world gone, but for his remaining world, he’s willing to try. Besides, wasn’t Excascale computing becoming global soon? He definitely wants to try and stick around for that.

April rests her head on his shoulder, “Oh Dee.. we are so going to find you a therapist.”

“Preferably one with at least 4 doctorates.” He quips back, half joking-half serious.

Her eyes blaze determinedly with all the fire she was so famous for. “Consider it done.” Big sister of the whole wide world.

“Raph can look in the hidden city too.” Raph volunteers. “I’ll help too.” Donnie feels Mikey nod enthusiastically.

Despite everything, Donnie feels a small twitch upwards at his beak the first touch of a smile since that day. This.. this was still good.

“Actually..” after a brief pause, Mikey pipes up, nervously. “Since we’re all sharing something today, is it ok if I say something too?”

“Go for it.”

“Of course.”

“Always”

“Ok..ok I’m gonna do it.”Nervous, the youngest drums his fingers along Donnie’s battleshell. The softshell tsks, extending two metal claws from his shell to grab the younger’s hands. “Sorry.” Mikey shrinks.

“It’s fine. Just grip the claws instead.” The purple branded teen instructs, not breaking the hug. Mikey nods, and then proceeds to white knuckle the offered claws so tightly, the metal begins to creak. It makes the older brother want to shove the younger away and scream my baby! But it’s been a literal year since he has last seen his little brother (jeezus how did he let it get this bad) so Donnie resists; just this once.

“So..” Mikey takes a deep shuddering breath, “I don’t want you guys to take this the wrong way. I love you guys. I love to cook for you guys, I promise.” He looks to April,Splinter,Raph pleadingly.

“And I know you’re all hurting so I don’t mind handling the chores myself either.” He smiles wobbly. Shock briefly paints Donnie and Splinter’s face. Raph hunches inward and April’s looks away, ashamed. So that was who deep cleaned their floor and cleared out the webs. The mutant rat concludes heartbroken. He gently cups his son’s face. Mikey leans into it.

The floor alone would have taken days. How lonely must his son have been? Splinter mourns.

“B-but it gets really hard sometimes and I’m sorry.” Mikey hiccups, big fat tears rolling down his face. Forming a damp patch on the softshell’s shoulder that he bravely tolerates. “A-and I know I shouldn’t be complaining. It’s my fault Leo-”

Oh no. Oh hell no. Not their youngest.

The explosion of protests is violent.

“Baby, no.” April gasps horrified.

“Don’t you dare. Don’t you fucking dare.” Donnie hisses, wrenching Mikey away by his shoulders and shaking him.

“But if I was just a little faster-” The box turtle shakes.

“Orange, you did everything you could”

“But you guys-” Mikey whimpers.

“No.” Raph growls, clenching his fists. “ just because we’re hurting doesn’t mean anything. We are relying a bit too much on you. You cook for all of us. You’re the only one who keeps our home clean,” Raph places a light hand atop his little brother head. He has to say this, he has to. For Mikey. And.. for himself. “And Leo..” They all flinch. “Leo made his own choices.” Raph sags. “So please, don’t hurt my baby brother by blaming him for things out of his control.”

“But.. what about you?” Mikey wobbles

“Huh?” Raph tilts his head to the side.

“Do you blame yourself?” Point blank when he wants to me.

There is silence. The snapper recoils back stung. Raph for as big as he is, feels smaller than ever. “It’s not the same. You were trying to help. But I..”he hands his head low. “I hurt you guys.”

A chorus of protest break out again.

“It wasn’t you!”

“Literally impossible. You? The guy who feeds stray cats?”

“It was the Krang!”

“I know that!” Raph snaps. “It’s so stupid I know. The krang did it, not me.” The snapper grips his head. “But I’m the strongest and the biggest. And everything I close my eyes I see..” the red turtle shakes,staring down at his hands. “I don’t need mind control to hurt ya guys. If I mess up..” He squeezes his eyes shut, tears falling. “ I.. I’m supposed to take care of you bozos.”

“Oh big guy.. We’re supposed to take care of each other.” This time not to be deterred. April wraps her arms around his large arm. It burns, but he can’t bear to shake her off, not after so long. “if nothing else, you and I promised remember? We would share.” Her eyes glimmer again with new tears.

(A lifetime ago, tucked away in a little corner away from where little brothers are sleeping.

A 11 year old and 10 year old lie nestled against each other. “Thanks for helping to get my brothers to sleep. Raph’s really sorry for this. They always get so fussy when they’re sick.” He grumbles, tucking his head between his knees.

The girl giggles. “Psh~ I already said it’s fine. You don’t have to do it all by yourself.”

“But I’m the oldest.” The boy protests.

“Uhh no. I’m the oldest. Im 11.” She rolls her eyes. Beaming “I’m always happy to help if you want?”

“Really?” He gasps, eyes sparkling.

“Well duh,” The girl grins, not yet realising just how far she will go or the magnitude she will carry for her soon-to-be family. But her mum always said she could do anything. So she will endure, gladly for them. “What are friends for?” )

Seeing the lack of protest this time, Mikey and Donnie take that opportunity to pull away form each other and encircle their big brother on either side.

“We’re with you always raphie.” Mikey hugs.

“Yeah. Yeah What he said.” Donnie, opting to rest his hand against his older brother.

“You guys..” Raph sniffs, bending down to be closer to his siblings.

“My sons, my family..” Splinter stands and joining the rest of his family at last. They all turn to face him. “This past year has been hard on us all. With our blue..” The elderly man stutters, chest hurting. “-it will likely always be hard on us. Which is why more than ever we have to press in. I know I have not been the best father, but as the head of the household and the adult, I should have known better than to leave you all to your hurts.” Splinter kneels, dogeza style. “I am truly and deeply sorry. Please I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me. No matter what happens, from now on I promise, I will do my very best to be here now.”

“Dad..”

“Pops..”

“Oh Splints.”

“I don’t normally feel things but that one got through.”

“Donnie really?” April chuckles weakly, rolling her eyes. The softshell doesn’t quite feel up to smiling yet, so he shrugs instead. Leo wasn’t here anymore. Someone has to do it.

“Cmon guys, Pop’s is right.” Raph huffs affectionately, he still doesn’t feel quite so comfortable to hug them all back. But he’s not pulling away and that means everything. “No more. We have to stick together.”

“Anatawa Hitorijanai” Mikey beams, wiping away the tears.

“Anatawa Hitorijanai” the rest of them echo back. Pressing closer to each other again.

“Wait.” Donnie stiffens, pulling away. “Angelo how long has your lasagna been in the oven?”

“My lasagna!” With a shriek and a jump, Mikey tears himself away from the group and races towards the kitchen.

He doesn’t get far, stoping just shy of the doorway when the Smoke detector goes off with vengeance. Followed by a BOOM! And the tell-tale glow of yellow-orange flames lick at the doorway.

“Orange! What did you put in that lasagna!”

“I don’t know! It’s never done this before!”

“The fire exstinghisher! Someone get the fire exstinguisher!”

“FIRREEEFIIGGHTTTIINGG LIKE A BOSSSS!”

“Wait! No no no! Raph! That’s the turbo mo-”

Peals of laughter break through the halls amidst the smouldering fire and smoke and clouds of demineralised water particles.

For the first in a long, long time the lair feels less a living tomb and more a home.

They think Leo might be proud.

<Prev | Next>

[boilingheart]

I hate hate hate having to constantly beg for money on here. I feel like I do it so often and I never have anything to give in return. I'd open up commissions again if I wasn't terrified of fucking it all up all over again. I wish I could just do commissions to make up for the money but I can barely even make art for *myself*. Ugh.

I'm short on rent for this next month by like, almost $300. My hours got cut like crazy this month. But it's not like I'm not working! I actually JUST got a new job, a real nice on working in ABA, and I'm training for it right now, so I'm gonna be back on my feet in no time. But right now I'm fucked. Well, it's probably not going to be the end of the world, we can probably make it work but FUCK man I need $300. And I swear I swearrrrr it's not always going to be like this I'm getting this new job and everything is going to be okay and it's going to be okay but right now god fucking DAMMIT dude god DAMMIT.

This isn't... the official post where I ask for donations. This is just a vent post. My ko-fi should be BoilingHeart tho if anyone wants to give it a shot but I'm just screaming into the void here. I try not to vent online anymore but god DAMMIT I'm so upset! I'm so upset that I always feel like I need to run to ask for help when I should be able to do this shit on my own. But it's so hard. It's been almost a year since I escaped my parents and moved out and hoogh boy this shit is tough. Between wrecking my car last summer and this job screwing me over things haven't been easy. I just wish I could give back to everyone who has helped me so much. And I feel so so awful having to ask for help so much when I have nothing to offer. But I'm like, dude, duuuude I swear this time I am on the path of healing, I'm so close, I'm *so close* dude. Things are lining up, this is just a rough patch but FUCK dude. AGH

Thank you everyone who has ever supported me in any capacity. I wish I had a way to give back, to really show my love and appreciation, but the best thing I can do is just... say thank you. And that I'm sorry.

[pcktknife]

But if you play sumo with female protag your gf lillie is also blonde … can’t choose that option

sorry selene u cant date lillie bc thats too much blonde between 2 people :/

[werehounded]

When I get nice comments from people on my writing, it makes all the times I was mocked as a teenager for being into fandom and bandom and writing smut about boys in said bandoms worth it tbh.

Like 18 year old me writing smutty fanfic at length about boys in pop punk bands is so proud of 32 year old me. She'd probably find the fact I'm trans masc confusing cos I was so far on the closet back then. But hey, my writing has really improved through sheer perseverance and reading/writing lots of smut, lol.

(And yes, I really did write bandom rpf fic and rp for a good 10?? ish years. I'm not precisely proud of it but it did shape my views on fandom generally, rpf, fandom wank and kink, I stand by that.)

[ipoddymouth]

ttpd good when you don't have a bitch in ya ear tellin you its about matty healy

[selfcontainedunivcrse]

My son Ethan has been living in my brain. He is at least moderately toxic and will never go to therapy. He is freeloading off of his best friend + her gf after his boyfriend gently kicked him out to learn how to function in society. he will not

[angeltrapz]

can my dad stop making jokes abt me??

[ezgurple]

hi ezzz!!! Waddup🤙 since it’s summer and summer vibes an stuff, do the turtlz and maybe April and Casey have summer outfits? Like swimsuits an stuff, I just think it’s a really funny idea lol, if you do have designs, do you also have one for Mona???

also hey how you doin, heard your goin thru some stuff, just also checking in on you😋🫶

i dont have many summer things. but this !

i will use this opportunity to talk about my turtlez at the pool. mueheh

april knows one secret pool for the turtles to swim in without having to worry about any other humanzz joining in..

the turtles love being in the water!

they love swimming, except for april. she will just chill in the corner somewhere in the pool.. shes scared of going too deep into the water. she must touch the floor at all times!! she cant swim 🦭 the guys will attack casey if he dare tries to throw april in the pool

and the turtles always want to play some sort of game in the pool but not donnie. he doesn’t like all of the splashing tht happens during tht stuff. he will most likely be in the corner with april and chill with her while mike & raph try to drown each other in the pool.

casey & leo will probably do dumb challenges like who can swim fastest or who can hold their breath the longest underwater.. leo will win that challenge every time.

turtles also like to sunbathe of courseee.

their masks stay on in the pool btw… how gross. soggy masks!

and sorry no mona pics💔 i think i will actually draw more summer things when i get back home. aaand thank u for askin this stuff!

[jellymochii]

OT8 SKZ - What Kind of sub are they?

the sequel to dom!skz hcs

𐙚 pairings: ot8 sub!skz x fem!reader

𐙚 genre: SMUTTTTTTTTT

𐙚 cw: oh boy, where do I even start, dom!reader x sub!skz, cnc, pet play, dacryphilia, BDSM, oral (m and f receiving), shibari, masochism, mentions of knives, unprotected s3x (please don't), use of strap-ons, etc.

𐙚 wc: 2k

↪author's note: hello! sorry for procrastinating on this lol I'm still goin thru it. anyways this one contains some themes that may be nasty to some (like eating men out) so reader discretion is advised. Hope you enjoy!

**THIS IS PURELY A WORK OF FICTION AND DOES NOT REFLECT THE TRUE NATURE OF THE PEOPLE MENTIONED**

Chan - Pleasure Sub

My sweet channie bug

He's totally obsessed with being your perfect little fuck doll

PLEASE use him and ride him whenever you want–even if he's busy in the studio, the others can wait.

Looooves when you ride him unprovoked. Feel free to take a seat whenever you feel like it. (Railway Reference lol??)

Even if he's overstimulated from how raw his cock feels from multiple orgasms, he'll always sit still and be your good boy!

“Fuck that's it baby, use my cock however you like.”

This is honestly such a good way for him to relieve stress too. Had a rough day at work? He'll flop into a chair and let you ride him for hours.

And his face is so so cute whenever he's about to cum. He gets all scrunched up with high pitched whines while he holds onto your love handles for dear life.

He's more than happy to let you manhandle him into any position you want for your pleasure–his thick cock can reach every single one of your spots without him even moving it!

Poor baby loves shutting off his brain after a rough day and becoming your brain dead little dollie~!

Subspace is so real and yet so sacred for him. He trusts you enough to treat him with respect no matter how rough you are–especially when he's oh so zoned out from pleasure and overstimulation.

Moral of the story–Chan would do anything to please you and let you use him to your heart's content–all out of love.

Lee Know - Brat

Just like in the previous parts–It's all a game to him.

And he is just soooooo stubborn about it too.

Likes to rile you up and tease you all day because he knows what's coming as soon as dinner is over.

Or, if he’s really misbehaving–you might just punish him then and there over the kitchen counter.

And this man is strong willed. It's gonna take a lot of patience to tame this man–and you're gonna have to do it over and over again each time.

He's decently strong and can handle any punishment you dish out at first, so be prepared to go for hours with him.

Your go to is to cuff his hands to the bottom of the bedframe and hover over him–forcing him to eat your pussy while you smack him if he refuses.

If he’s being extra bratty? Cuff his legs too and tie a vibrator to his dick and leave him there.

“Oh really? You think that's mmph–enough to break me?”

Or even worse, keep edging him with a fleshlight until tears start running down his face from the pain.

Eventually after many hours of smacking and edging, he'll go brain dead and obey your every command! Mindlessly eating you out and begging you to cum.

The worst part? He does all that teasing because of how much he loves being your little bratty whore.

Changbin - Pillow Princess

This one is kind of a hot take but

The man is exhausted. If he's not busting his ass in the studio he's pumping out any of his remaining energy at the gym.

You feel so bad knowing that he'll come home with a raging boner but no energy to do something about it.

That's where you, his sweet baby comes in!

Like Chan, you can ride him as much as you want and he'll take anything you give him.

Sometimes he just prefers to lay back and let you use your strap on him while he holds onto the pillow for dear life.

Eat him out pls!! It feels soooo good to him after a long day at work, and you don't even have to stroke him to make him cum if you do!

“Annngh~that feels so good, jagi.”

Eventually his grunts and moans will turn into high pitched whines when he's close, practically begging you to make him cum.

Binnie has a lot of trust in you in general, he's not used to being this vulnerable physically since he's usually perceived as the big and tough rock of the group.

But it's nice for him to come home and let out all of his emotions while cumming on your strap.

Pls treat him nicely he's gentle on the inside.

Hyunjin - Masochist

Hyunjin is by far one of the most loved idols in all of kpop. Everywhere he goes girls are dying for just a chance to touch his shirt.

But something about you treating him like shit in the bedroom (consensually) just makes him feel so alive.

He's always been the experimental type so when you suggested being the dominant one he was all for it, and over time his taste got more and more filthy–to the point he loved feeling pained.

His favorite position is being handcuffed on his knees while looking up at you with pleading eyes, as if he’s begging to be bruised and battered.

It starts out light–smacking him across the face and twisting his nipples, but his need for further stimulation made him into a starved man.

“More.” Is all he’ll say to earn a kick to his cock while your hand collapses over his throat choking him out.

The first time you ever did it he fell over in pain and…came.

Needless to say both of you were very surprised and he almost considered begging you to do it again right then and there.

His pain tolerance has gotten a lot better, which has made you have to get more aggressive in terms of choking–almost to the point where he’s turnt blue and about to pass out.

Even after you release, he’ll wheeze and look up at you while licking his lips and smirking in satisfaction.

He'd never dare tell anyone that despite his tough and charismatic exterior, he desires nothing more than to be broken down and degraded.

But hey, that's dopamine addict Hyunjin for you.

Han - Rope Bunny

Oh this man is nasty

Loves everything involving sex toys as it is, so when you brought up the idea of doing Shibari he was ecstatic.

And best believe he wants it all–being tied up, blindfolded, ballgagged, and edged to the end of eternity.

Acts so whiny and whimpery like he wasn't the one humping your leg an hour ago begging for you to tie him up and make him cum.

He loves the way your pretty rope designs highlight the best parts of his body ever so delicately. The ropes are so tight and snug around his wrists and ankles, making it impossible for him to move at all and make him feel helpless (he's never been harder.)

Poor whiny baby always begging you to let him cum with tears streaming down his face.

“P-Please, Mommy--I've been a good anghh boy, just please let me cum!”

He's so lost in pleasure he's begging for even just a taste of your sweet pussy to help him cum faster.

I'm a firm believer that he sticks his tongue out and pants like a dog when he's about to cum.

If you're feeling extra fun that night, you can even finger him or eat him out until his cock is spasming from how angry and red it is.

And yes, if it becomes too much for him he will squirt and probably be forced to clean it up later.

His orgasms are so pleasurable for him, he lives for this moment and loves enduring all that pain from being tied up just because of how amazing he feels after.

Felix - Service Sub

My sweet people pleaser lixie

You could tell him to steal a million dollars from Mr Beast and he’d be back in an hour with an extra 5 million.

The point is, he’d stop at nothing to please you.

It doesn't matter how kinky or nasty you’re feeling–he’s gonna deliver on his promise to do whatever you want.

You want him to eat you out for hours and make you cum? He’ll get as many orgasms out of you as possible. You want him tied up and pegged till he’s crying? No problem.

He's always watching your every facial expression attentively to see if there's any sign of satisfaction on your face.

“Mommy…do you like when I do that? I-I'm your good boy, right?”

And a good boy he is, always so doting and loving on you.

He looks up at you with his adorable boba eyes, even when there's tears in his eyes from overstimulation as if to say “You love me, right?”

Sometimes you like to toy with him by seeing how long he can go without cumming. You're often surprised by how long he can hold out, all for you.

Even with his angry red tip spasming from the lightest touch, the sheer overwhelming desire to make you happy lets him stop himself.

He's so sweet, please tell him what a good boy he is for you.

Seungmin - Puppy Sub

Ok so I know in the dom skz hcs I said that he's the one who enjoys treating YOU like a dog but hear me out–

I think it's fun for him both ways, he's the puppy of the group for a reason.

If he's feeling extra subby after a long day he'll put on his collar with your initials on it and snuggle up to you–signaling to you that he wants to let it all out.

Or if he's extra needy he'll crawl up to you on the couch and start humping your leg mercilessly like a dog.

The only difference is that he's not a bratty puppy like you, he's a sweet puppy!

He'll gladly eat you out for hours if it means he'll get his sweet release from you~

If he’s been extra mouthy that day and gotten on your last nerve, he’ll go in the very kennel he's so used to putting you in and have your vibrator tied to his tip while he whines and cries.

You’ll only let him out if he barks like a good puppy, of course.

“Mommy please! I've been a good puppy, I swear!”

You may as well just hold your hand out and let him rut his cock relentlessly into it.

He’ll get you back once he’s the dom though~

Jeongin - Prey Sub

All i gotta say is get ready to run, I hope you’re good on a treadmill.

There's nothing more exhilarating to Jeongin than the feeling of being chased through the woods by you, only to be caught and have his hole brutalized.

You talked this out extensively with him and made absolutely sure that this is what he wanted, and his face lit up with excitement.

You can even chase him down with a knife for extra adrenaline on his part. (pleeeease do not do this unless you know what you're doing.)

Even if you're just at home and you're feeling needy, he’ll look at you with a smug ass smirk and say “Oh yeah? You want me? Well, you better catch me first.”

It's almost comical watching him jump around furniture to “prevent” himself from being caught.

But that's not what he wants, he wants to be caught by you because he knows how good he's gonna feel underneath you–-so he'll run slower on purpose.

He loves feeling small and helpless underneath you (even when he's 10x stronger than you) and letting you use him like a whore.

He's typically face down ass up while you thrust unbearably fast with your strap, earning ungodly guttural moans and pleas of mercy.

The feeling of getting caught and ultimately punished for trying to run away from you makes his head fuzzy from all the primal urges swelling in his body.

And oh boy he could go for HOURS like that too.

It's all worth it to him at the end though, when he's soiled the sheets beneath him with layers of thick white cum.

[rosemariiaa]

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 01, 𝙅𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙪𝙨𝙚𝙧.

“I wish I was a normal girl, oh, my How do I be,

how do I be your baby?”

𐙚— pairing: Paige x Azzi

𐙚— synopsis: tell the truth?

𐙚— rosie note: ahh first chapter! i’m really excited to see how this series goes..(i hope you guys are too). i do wanna say I will not be dropping chapters back to back just because ik each chapter will be long enough and also i have other things to do. but you never know what i have up my sleeve sooo just wait! i actually did cry a lot writing this so yw. happy reading lovelies 💌

𐙚—themes: hurt/comfort, mentions of depression, some fluff

enjoy!!!

May, 2014. Virginia MN

Azzis days felt like she was wading through an invisible fog, where each step felt heavier than the last. She moved through school in a daze, surrounded by classmates and noise but feeling distanced from it all, as if she were behind a glass wall. Teachers spoke, friends laughed, yet nothing seemed to reach her, and nothing seemed worth responding to.

She leaned against her bedroom wall, her gaze fixed on the ceiling, the thoughts came like waves, too heavy to escape but too constant to ignore. At home, the silence only deepened. Her puppy was her only real source of comfort, a small warmth that reminded her she wasn’t completely alone.

Yet, even with him there, the sadness was like a relentless wave, threatening to pull her under. As she lay in bed, Azzi’s mind circled around her own thoughts, dark and tangled, the weight pressing down on her chest. Sometimes, she felt the urge to cry, but the tears would stall. Other times, they would pour out uncontrollably, as if her body knew it needed to release the heaviness she carried.

Azzi remembered words that lingered in her mind like a mantra:

“Cry. Cry for an hour, cry for a day, cry for a week. Cry until you can’t cry anymore, until the tears stop coming, until you feel better, until you heal.

Crying is your body’s way of releasing sadness; let it out and then let it go.”

But the letting go part felt impossible.

She knew she was lucky—talented, even—but that didn’t stop the weight pressing down on her, making everything she did feel more like a chore than a choice.

Sometimes it felt like she was just going through the motions: school, basketball practice, homework, repeat. But there was a deeper loneliness, one that made her question what any of it even meant. Every now and then, she’d think, Would anyone even notice if I disappeared for a day? A week? That quiet thought haunted her, lingering in the back of her mind as she navigated her days, waiting for someone to prove it wrong. But no one ever did.

Grabbing her laptop, she opened up her anonymous Blogspot account. Writing had become her escape, a safe place to let her thoughts spill out without anyone knowing they were hers. She’d been posting as @unicornpuppy35 for a while now, hoping someone out there might understand her, even if they never knew her name. A new notification popped up.

Azzi blinked at the screen, surprised to see a comment on her latest post. It was from someone called @boogers_p.

“hey, I saw your post about feeling stuck. I get that. I feel like that a lot, too.”

For a moment, she almost ignored it. Just another user on the internet, right? But something about the way they’d phrased it struck a chord. She found herself typing back before she even knew what she wanted to say.

unicornpuppy35: Oh yeah? What’s got you feeling stuck?

The reply came quickly.

boogers_p: lol, how much time u got? but mostly… everything’s just movin’, and i’m still here. it’s like ur doing all this stuff, but half the time u can’t even tell if u actually care abt it.

Azzi frowned, feeling that weird sense of familiarity in the words.

unicornpuppy35: Exactly, like a constant loop. But what’s the point, right?

boogers_p: fr! it’s like… i’m goin’ thru the motions but who even knows why.

A smile tugged at her lips. Whoever this was, they got it. They actually understood what she was feeling. And it was strange, but it made her feel just a little less alone.

unicornpuppy35: So, what’s your thing? Like, if you had to pick.

boogers_p: lol basketball. but sometimes i’m like… is this all there is?

Azzi blinked. Out of all the things they could have in common, it was basketball. Funny, or maybe just ironic.

unicornpuppy35: Wait, seriously? Are we living the same life or what?

boogers_p: guess that means we’re stuck in the same boat, huh?

Azzi let herself relax into the conversation, forgetting for a moment that she was talking to a stranger. She leaned back, fingers tapping against the keyboard.

unicornpuppy35: So, if we’re both stuck… what’s the plan? How do we get out?

boogers_p: girl, if i knew, we’d be out already, trust. maybe we keep chattin n figure it out.

Azzi laughed softly, a weight lifting from her shoulders that she hadn’t even realized was there.

unicornpuppy35: Deal. Looks like I just made a new friend.

There was a pause, then @boogers_p’s next message popped up.

boogers_p: btw, ‘unicornpuppy35’? gotta ask: what’s the story there?

Azzi rolled her eyes, smirking as she typed back.

unicornpuppy35: What? You don’t like it?

boogers_p: nah it’s cool, just funny. u like unicorns that much?

unicornpuppy35: Who doesn’t like unicorns? And I have a puppy, so it made sense at the time.

boogers_p: lol alright then, unicorn girl.

unicornpuppy35: “Boogers” is somehow less embarrassing to you?

The reply was fast.

boogers_p: hey! don’t come for my name. so do u even keep up w ball like that?

Azzi laughed, a real laugh, and typed, I mean, I love the game, especially the wcbb, but I barely keep up with men’s college basketball.

boogers_p: WHAT i can’t believe that …u at least know who Kyrie is right??

Azzi smiled, rolling her eyes as she typed, I know who he is, I just don’t watch him like that. I’m more into Breanna Stewart.

boogers_p: ohh okay stewie’s dope. but trust, kyrie’s handles r insane. hold up lemme get u the link.

Azzi barely clicked on the link before skimming, smiling at Paige’s excitement.

As Azzi sat back, scrolling through this user’s texts, a small part of her was overwhelmed by everything, like a weight on her chest she couldn’t quite shake off. It felt strange how this stranger’s blunt and funny messages could draw her out of her own head—even if just for a bit. She was used to feeling invisible, yes, her struggles buried under her quiet exterior, but this strangers presence, even from behind a screen, felt real.

A few seconds ticked by as she sank into her thoughts, that weight of loneliness and uncertainty creeping in again. She knew people saw her as the “soft one,” but beneath that, her emotions felt raw, and she wondered if anyone truly understood.

Suddenly, her phone screen lit up with rapid notifications.

boogers_p: hellooooooo? did u leave?

boogers_p: r u asleep already or smth??

Azzi’s lips turned up in a small smile. She quickly replied.

unicornpuppy35: “Geez, relax. I’m still here.”

boogers_p: “finally! thought I lost ya for a sec. kinda rude to just ghost me like that, you know?”

Azzi smirked, typing back slowly.

unicornpuppy35: “Yeah, yeah. Guess I was just thinking.”

boogers_p: “Ooooh, deep thoughts? Or like… deep-deep thoughts?”

Azzi hesitated, fingers hovering over the keyboard, but she quickly brushed it off.

unicornpuppy35: “nope, just regular deep, I guess.”

boogers_p: “good, I thought you might’ve been drafting your escape from my endless questions.”

unicornpuppy35: “ y’know you’re kind of funny , i’ll give you that. lol”

boogers_p: “ik ik. btw, where do you go to school? And don’t tell me it’s some fancy private place or whatever.”

unicornpuppy35: “Haha, what are you, a stalker? why do you wanna know?”

boogers_p: “what? nah, just curious! alright, lemme guess… you seem like a midwest kid. Iowa?”

unicornpuppy35: “nope, not even close. Try again, Sherlock.”

boogers_p: “alright, alright… new jersey?”

Azzi laughed, shaking her head at her screen.

unicornpuppy35: “nope. You’re pretty bad at this, you know.”

boogers_p: “whatever, I’m warming up! Um… cali? bet you’re like, all into the beach.”

unicornpuppy35: “keep guessing P! maybe you’ll get it right before I graduate.”

boogers_p: “damn, you’re killin’ me here. fine, one more—Texas?”

unicornpuppy35: “Guess you’re gonna have to stay curious, stalker.”

“P” sent a string of laughing emojis, clearly frustrated but amused.

boogers_p: “oh, okay, I see how it is. mysterious and all that. fine, keep your secrets.”

Azzi smiled, finding herself genuinely entertained by Paige’s playful determination to figure her out. It was nice, having someone care enough to ask.

Azzi shook her head, laughing at the sight of P typing “helloooooo?” over and over.

unicornpuppy35: Still here! Just still laughing at your terrible guesses.

boogers_p: ohhh shut up 😆 one day you’ll tell me!

As they continued chatting, Azzi couldn’t help but feel a little lighter, like maybe she wasn’t quite so alone after all.

————-

I glanced at the clock in the corner of my screen. Midnight. Crap. How had it gotten so late?

unicornpuppy35: alright, P, it’s late. I should get some sleep—school tomorrow and all 😊

I typed, hesitating for a moment before hitting send. I didn’t want the conversation to end, not when it felt so… easy.

The reply came almost instantly.

boogers_p: lame but yeah, same here. don’t oversleep, though, or I’ll roast you about it next time

I smiled softly, my fingers moving across the keyboard.

unicornpuppy35: gnn P

boogers_p: night unicorn, catch you later.

I closed my laptop, leaning back against my pillow with a soft sigh. My room was quiet except for the gentle snuffling of my puppy curled up at the end of the bed. I hated how much I didn’t want to stop talking to her—or whoever she was—but I could already hear my mom’s voice in my head if I overslept tomorrow.

Still, the flicker of warmth in my chest wouldn’t go away. For the first time in a while, I didn’t feel so alone.

————-

The warm weight of my puppy’s paws jolted me awake, followed by his enthusiastic tongue licking my cheek. I groaned, shoving him away gently before squinting at my phone.

“Crap.” 7:40. At least practice was after school today, but I still had school before then.

“Azzi!” Mom’s voice carried from the kitchen, sharp and frustrated. “Do you even know what time it is? You’re going to be late—again!”

“I know, Mom!” I called back, stumbling out of bed and tossing clothes around my room.

When I finally trudged downstairs, backpack slung over one shoulder, she was waiting, arms crossed. “Do you? Because this is becoming a habit. You need to start taking this seriously, Azzi. Coaches notice stuff like this.”

I rolled my eyes, grabbing a grabbing a piece of nutella toast from the plate on the counter. “It’s not like I’m failing or anything.”

“That’s not the point!” Her voice rose a notch, and I flinched. “You’re juggling basketball, school, and everything else. If you can’t manage your mornings, how are you supposed to handle the rest?”

“I’ve got it under control.” The words came out sharper than I intended, and guilt immediately twisted in my stomach.

She softened slightly but shook her head. “You have so much potential, Azzi. I just don’t want you to waste it. That’s all.”

I sighed, hugging the puppy briefly before heading out the door. “I won’t.”

Her voice followed me, softer now. “Make sure you don’t.”

As I stepped outside, the crisp morning air hit me, making me shiver slightly. My puppy barked once from the window, his tail wagging furiously. I couldn’t help but smile, even as Mom’s words echoed in my head.

She wasn’t wrong, but sometimes it felt like the pressure of living up to everyone’s expectations, especially hers was just all so suffocating. I jogged toward the bus stop, earbuds in, my mind already racing through the day ahead: school, practice, and maybe—if I had time—another chat with P.

The bus ride wasn’t much better than waking up. Just the usual hum of the engine and kids mumbling into their phones. I leaned my head against the window, the cold glass biting at my cheek, and zoned out. School wasn’t exactly a place I looked forward to.

By the time I walked into first period, I was already tuning out the chatter around me. The teacher called for us to break into groups, and I found myself sitting with three classmates who barely glanced my way.

“We should start with the data chart,” I said, glancing at the worksheet.

“Yeah, yeah,” one of them mumbled, already scribbling something down.

Another classmate leaned over to add something, completely ignoring what I’d just said. My lips pressed into a thin line. This wasn’t new. It was like my words existed in a bubble, bouncing off everyone and disappearing into thin air. I tried again.

“If we divide the work, we’ll finish faster—”

“Wait, no, let’s do this first,” someone interrupted, their voice cutting over mine.

I stopped mid-sentence, letting my pen drop to the table. They didn’t even notice. Just kept talking like I wasn’t there.

I didn’t bother saying anything else for the rest of the class. It wasn’t worth it.

By lunch, I was drained. I slid into a chair at the edge of the cafeteria, next to a group of friends who were already knee-deep in some conversation.

“Azzi, did you see that ridiculous shot Ty took in practice yesterday?” one of them asked, barely waiting for my answer before launching into their own commentary.

I nodded, offering a small laugh. It wasn’t worth jumping in. Every time I tried to add something to a conversation, it either got talked over or shifted in another direction.

But it didn’t stop me from noticing.

As I picked at my food, my thoughts drifted back to last night’s chat with P. They actually listened. Responded. It felt… different. Maybe that’s why it was still on my mind.

————-

By the time I got to practice, my head was already in a fog. It felt like no matter where I went, no one really saw me. At school, at home—was it too much to ask for someone to actually listen?

“Azzi, let’s go! You’re up!” Coach’s voice snapped me back. I jogged to the front of the line, grabbing a ball. Simple drill. Layups. Easy.

Except I missed.

“Come on, Azzi!” one of the captains called, exasperation clear in her voice. My jaw tightened.

I grabbed the rebound and tried again, but my footwork was off. The ball clanged off the rim.

“Focus, Azzi!” Coach barked.

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat, and got back in line. When my turn came again, I nailed the layup, but the damage was already done.

As we transitioned to scrimmage, it only got worse. I called for the ball—wide open on the wing—but my teammate didn’t even look my way. I sprinted to the other side of the court, yelling louder this time. Nothing.

“Azzi, move the ball!” someone shouted when I finally had possession, cutting me off before I could even make a decision.

It was like being invisible. Nothing new though.

By the time practice ended, my legs ached, and my chest felt even heavier than when I’d started. I stayed behind to shoot free throws, trying to shake off the weight.

One ball after another swished through the net, but the sinking feeling didn’t budge.

By the time I finally walked out of the gym, the sun had dipped low, painting the sky in soft pinks and oranges. My legs felt like lead, and I slung my bag over one shoulder, the strap digging in just enough to annoy me. God.

I spotted our car parked at the far end of the lot, Mom’s silhouette visible through the windshield. She was scrolling on her phone, waiting. I sighed, tugging my hoodie tighter as I trudged toward her.

As I got closer, I caught sight of my brothers in the backseat. Jose was watching something on his tablet, headphones on, and Jon was playing with a Rubik’s cube. Lucky them—they didn’t have to deal with “the talk” I was sure was coming.

The second I opened the door and tossed my bag onto the floor, Mom started in.

“So, your coach called me today,” she said, her tone sharp but controlled.

I froze, mid-seatbelt click. Great.

She said you’ve been distracted. Not focused. Is something going on?”

I stared out the window, watching the streetlights blur past. “I’m fine,” I mumbled.

“Azzi, ‘fine’ isn’t good enough. You’re not putting in the work, and it’s starting to show. You need to get your head in the game. You think colleges are going to be interested in someone who’s half-assing it?”

Her words stung, but I bit my tongue, glancing at Jose and Jon in the backseat. Jon was tapping away on his tablet, and Jose had his headphones in. Good. I didn’t want them listening to this.

“I’m not half-a wording it,” I said quietly.

“Oh, really? Because that’s not what I heard today. Your coach says otherwise.”

I clenched my jaw, willing myself not to argue. I couldn’t let this turn into something bigger, not with my brothers right here.

“Mom, I said I’m fine,” I repeated, more firmly this time.

She sighed, shaking her head. “Azzi, you can’t afford to slack off. You’ve worked too hard for this. Don’t throw it all away now.”

I stared straight ahead, tuning her out as best I could. My chest felt tight, but I refused to let it show. I nodded along, letting her words wash over me without sticking.

When we finally pulled into the driveway, I bolted from the car, mumbling something about needing to shower. The second my bedroom door shut, I collapsed onto my bed, burying my face in the pillow.

For a few minutes, I just lay there, letting the weight of the day press down on me. Then I grabbed my laptop and opened the chat.

unicornpuppy35: “hey, you around?”

The reply came quicker than I expected.

boogers_p: “yup what’s up?”

I hesitated, fingers hovering over the keyboard. How much could I even say without sounding like I was whining?

unicornpuppy35: “rough day.”

boogers_p: “wanna talk about it?”

I stared at the screen. Did I?

unicornpuppy35: “not really. just needed a distraction.”

boogers_p: “fair. ok, here’s a distraction: what’s your dream ice cream flavor? like if you could invent anything.”

I blinked at the random question, a laugh escaping before I could stop it.

unicornpuppy35: “that’s… so random.”

boogers_p: “that’s the point. distraction, remember?”

boogers_p: “but… you do know you don’t have to push it down, y’know? sometimes it helps to just let it out. Especially with me.”

My chest tightened again. It wasn’t like I didn’t want to talk—I just wasn’t sure how.

unicornpuppy35: “oh um okay, it’s just been a lot. school sucks, practice was worse, and my mom’s acting like I’m throwing my whole future away. But what’s the point in saying anything? It’s not like it changes.”

I stared at the screen, half-wishing I could take it back. But, I typed again.

unicornpuppy35: “it’s like… everybody talks to me like I’m supposed to change. like they’ve already decided what’s wrong with me and what I need to do to fix it. but how am I supposed to change when I don’t even know who I am yet? it’s like no one cares about that part.”

The typing bubble appeared almost immediately.

boogers_p: “damn, unicorn. that’s real. people are so quick to act like they know what’s best for you, but they don’t live your life. you don’t owe them anything.”

I felt a lump rise in my throat as I stared at P’s message.

unicornpuppy35: “exactly. like… they’ve already made up their minds, and nothing I say matters. but I don’t even know who I’m supposed to be yet. And then when I try to figure it out, they’re just like, ‘No, not like that.’ it’s so exhausting.”

boogers_p: “i get it. they want you to follow their script, but maybe their script sucks. you’re allowed to write your own, even if it takes time.”

My fingers hesitated over the keyboard. I feel the tears running down my cheeks and falling onto the keypad.

unicornpuppy35: “sometimes I feel like I’m never gonna figure it out. like I’ll just keep messing up until everyone gives up on me.”

P didn’t reply right away, and for a moment, I worried I’d said too much. I’m trying my best to wipe the tears that are falling, but they just won’t stop coming.

But then their message popped up

boogers_p: “ listen to me. you’re allowed to take up space, to mess up, to figure things out in your own time. screw what everyone else thinks. you’re not a project they get to fix.”

A shaky breath left my chest, and I swiped at my eyes before more of my tears could fall onto the laptop.

unicornpuppy35: “thanks, P. I mean it. you’re the only one who really listens.”

boogers_p: “anytime you’re stuck with me now, remember?”

I didn’t mind that one bit and for the first time all day, I let myself breathe.

————-

March 21, Minneapolis, Minnesota

I stared at the screen, the cursor blinking against the blank message box. Her words replayed in my mind like a song I couldn’t shake off.

“Nobody listens. Nobody sees me.”

I didn’t know what to say back, not really. Azzi didn’t just sound tired—she sounded done. And it scared me more than I wanted to admit.

My fingers hovered over the keyboard.

“Azzi…”

I typed..wanting to send but no.

I couldn’t. Not yet.

————-

taglist ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

@thaatdigitaldiary @patscorner @ohbueckers @sierrale8ne @mrsarnold @absolutelydreadful @authentic-girl03 @lupinqs @d3arapril @pboogerswbb @imaginespazzi

₊˚ෆ always lmk if u wanna be added to my taglist muah ₊˚ෆ

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hi! Have you seen the new Mickey Mouse Rebrushed trailer??? Twitter is goin crazy over it and how it’s related to twst 😭 just wanted to hear your thoughts on it

I did spot quite a few parallels with TWST from the Rebrushed trailer! I'm not familiar with Epic Mickey at all, so I'll just be commenting on what I noticed right away. You'll have to excuse my limited knowledge.

Firstly!! This design of Mickey is the exact same as the one we see in TWST. Most noticeable is his white face, which is a fleshy peach color in most modern iterations.

Mickey is reading Alice in Wonderland’s sequel, Through the Looking Glass. Of course, Twisted Wonderland has Wonderland in its title, and even opens with an Alice in Wonderland inspired dorm. Yuu and Mickey also connect via their dreams and through the mirror shared in their rooms.

The theme of dreams is very present and upfront here; Mickey wakes up from sleeping and then creeps to his mirror, which appears to be a portal into another world. Hmm... dreams, mirrors, and traveling to other worlds, now what does that remind you of? You'll also notice that Mickey's room is the exact same as Yuu's room in Ramshackle, right down to the "inverted" room that appears when Mickey passes through the mirror. Everything up until this point is very similar to what is depicted in the 1936 short, Thru the Mirror.

Next, Mickey spies on a wizard carefully using a magic paintbrush over what seems to be a diorama of a bunch of buildings on a plot of land. When the wizard leaves, Mickey fiddles with the paintbrush, causes a mess, and calls forth some kind of black ink monster with green light coming from within it. This seems to be a very close parallel to Overblots, particularly since the most recent OB has a signature neon green color. If we really are to connect Epic Mickey to TWST, this scene also seems to allude that Yuu, Mickey, and/or the "wizard" have parts to play in bringing these Overblots to life. And who do we know that is a powerful wizard that is aware of the corrupting power of blot and runs a large chunk of land... say, a campus? Crowley. This goes hand-in-hand with the theory that Crowley is intentionally allowing these OBs to happen or is even puppeteering his students into OBing.

I find this visual in particular to be very ominous; again, we have the colors that match a certain OB dragon fae but also the map itself reminds me of Twisted Wonderland's and the eerie visual of Malleus's thorns digging into Sage's Island and aiming to go way beyond it.

Anyway, the ink monster is temporarily contained while Mickey returns to his own world. We then get a montage of various Mickey media passing by, as well as a lot of imagery that would imply the passage of time (clocks, the date on the calendar changing, etc.). So... what? Is that implying not only parallel worlds, but also a time skip? Or maybe a time... loop? Like time loop theory???

The ink monster somehow eventually escapes and makes it to Mickey's world, with the blot dripping from the ceiling waking Mickey up from his sleep. It drags Mickey away into a hole drenched in ink. Kind of foreboding when you realize Yuu has also had prophetic dreams... Not of OBs, but of the events leading up to them. And being dragged away into an inky... opening? Like an... abyss? Like book 7, Ruler of the ABYSS?

That's how the trailer concludes!! Gotta say, there's definitely a lot of shared elements between this and TWST. If I recall correctly, Epic Mickey was a game that existed on the Wii waaay before TWST. It even has largely the same cinematic trailer (just with older graphics), so to me it feels like TWST probably took inspiration from Epic Mickey rather than the other way around. There are definitely too many parallels for it to be a coincidence. If that's the case, then we can probably pull some hints for what awaits us in the rest of book 7 from these cinematics. (This is a video comparing the two side-by-side if you think that might be of use!)

[bloominglegumes]

I recently read "The Echo Garden" through seeing the fanart you'd reblogged earlier this week. Do you have any other TF fics you could recommend or are endeared to? Any iteration, any ships, no matter how obscure. I am superior ᕕ(⌐■_■)ᕗ ♪♬

oo okok i've got way too many fics bookmarked,, here are some that are relatively short but sweet and very dear in my heart <3

(all of these are from ao3, some of them require u to be logged in to read <(_ _")> )

(Peace)Time Constraints by Insecuriosity - really fun, shockwave and first aid bonding over being weird little freaks is a dynamic i didn't know i was craving but i'm now convinced of its value

Wireless Connections by stormandstarlight - miko being miko is truly a force to be reckoned with,, soundwave and ratchet are both going thru it and this fic feels so much like the trajectory of a typical episode i love it

Intelligence, or vision, or the truth by Sroloc_Elbisivni - seriously one of the coolest humanformers fic i've read! focuses on hilarious+doomed megop but the worldbuilding of this story goes so hard as well (if you enjoy this author's style, i also highly recommend their Spontaneous Earth pieces!! such fascinating juicy ideas abt alien culture,,,,love it)

Belonging by MeinongsJungleBook - idw bumblebee/starscream/windblade happy end fic,, so so fluffy and sweet,, heals my heart

Connect The Systems, Start The Music by Spector_Author - super cute, fun confession story that i'm including here in order to push the jazterwave agenda,, theyre so silly and slightly dumb and they mean everything to me

Drifting Together by NyonSuperstar - dratchet road trip banter my beloved,, domestic life, close quarters, directionless bickering,, its like the laundry and taxes

An Abstract on Collaboration by Decepticonsensual - two old doctors just being friends <3 devoting your life to healing and helping people in spite of everything,,, having a friend who understands you,,,aghg i love them ;-;;

(physician, heal thyself) by absolute_minimum - ambulon and whirl is another dynamic i didn't expect to become a fan of,, idk how to explain it exactly but the vibes are impeccable and the dialogue is so delightful so ,,give it a read :)

Sari's Mom Has Got It Goin' On by IvyCorp - one of those fics with a premise that feels borderline insane but when you get invested in it you REALLY get invested in it,,, tfa megatron best mom fr

[macfrog]

company cowboy like me chapter six

lfg i am so happy to finally be back writing!!! here's a new part of cowboy like me to celebrate - you can also catch parts one thru five over on my masterlist 🤍 love u all lmk ur thoughts whose side are we on with the argument? 😏

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: joel and his hands help you feel better after an argument with your dad

warnings: 18+ minors dni!!! shower fun, handjob, fingering, bit of comeplay, like, allusions to exhibitionism?? not rly tho, dom!joel, unprotected p in v sex (i do not condone it unless it is fictional), praise kink, overstimulation, begging, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), cursing, grilled cheese consumption (for all my lactose intolerant babies i got u)

word count: 8.4k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

“Please let me cum, promise I’ll be good. I’ll be quiet.” He laughs, some smug, cocky laugh. If you had a sliver of energy and half the feeling in your body, you’d bat his arm. “Don’t want you to be quiet, angel. You wanted to get caught, remember? Get us caught, then. Let ‘em all hear just what you’re up to.” “No,” you moan, head shaking, “don’t wanna get caught. Just w-wanna cum. Please, Joel…”

The birds singing. A car passing by on the street outside. The dull buzz of the shower running, and the gentle humming of the man standing in it. Whichever one wakes you first, you don’t much care. Your eyes have fluttered open to find the bathroom door half-open, the steamed-up shower right ahead of you.

You can see his silhouette moving around. Hands raising to rub shampoo into his hair. Dipping to push soap suds down the trail from his belly button. You’re half-naked in his bed, still sore from your antics from the night before, and he’s winding that coil all over again. Just from showering.

You push yourself off the bed with a groan. Your thighs burn as you move them; between your legs feels just as tender. His t-shirt hangs off you.

You slowly wander over to the bathroom door and pause to listen. It’s one of his country songs he’s always playing in the truck. And this man swears he ain’t a country fan.

Your head leans against the doorframe. One gentle push and he’ll know you’re right here.

The t-shirt comes off in one swift movement, and in you go.

“Mornin’, baby,” he coos as you walk over the threshold. When he peers around the steamed-up glass, he notices your lack of clothing, and mumbles an Oh as you step inside.

“What time does Sarah’s flight get in?” you ask innocently. His eyes are making their way slowly down your figure.

“An–” He clears his throat. “An hour.”

“You got time, then?”

He smirks as you soak yourself under the hot stream of water, and says, “Always got time for you.”

Your hands cup his strong jaw and pull him down to you. He obliges, lips parting to crash against yours. Tongues twisting and curling around one another, hands squeezing and scratching and stroking bodies. His palms find your tits and he squeezes, pulling a moan from your lips.

“So fuckin’ needy,” he murmurs against your lips.

You smile back into the kiss, replying, “It’s all your fault.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” your hand starts travelling south, “got – me – fuck – all ruined.”

Joel’s already hard when your hands take hold of him. Like, fucking hard. So hard you actually look down as you grip him with both hands, awestruck by how quickly he’s turned on. When you look back up, a cocky smile fills his cheeks.

“Get goin’ then. I ain’t got all mornin’.”

“Fuck you.” You drag your hand up his length.

“That’s what I got you for,” he breathes, leaning his head back against the tile, eyes closing.

This is the part you like. Sure, Joel’s hot when he’s being dominant, fucking you senseless, whispering filth in your ear, even just the way his hands grip your body. But this – when he’s under your hand, right where you want him, right where he wants to be. This is it for you.

Watching him unravel at your touch, the way you squeeze him, pull him, take care of him; your words, sweet and smooth as honey in his ear, asking how good it feels, telling him how good he looks, peppering wet kisses down his neck and across his chest; and then, when he’s close, the way he pants and takes hold of your wrist, telling you without speaking exactly how to fuckin’ get him there.

When you feel his hips buck, you sink to your knees and hold the head of his cock on your tongue. He tilts his head to look down at you, mouth agape, hand on the back of your head. You stroke his length a few more times, the tip swirling over your pink lips, before he grunts, releasing all over your tongue, watching as you take every last drop.

“Good girl…” he whispers, over and over until he goes limp. You never take your eyes off of him as you lick your lips and swallow. “Good fuckin’ girl.”

When he comes down from his high, Joel takes your hands and pulls you back up to stand. He lazily bumps his nose against yours and then pulls you in, filling your mouth with his tongue. He groans into the kiss, tangling his hand in your hair, tasting himself on you.

“You know how good you are to me?”

Your face lights up when you look up at him. You could almost say something you think you’d regret afterward. When the wave of bravery washes down the drain with the water from above, you settle for your usual cocky teasing: “I know. You don’t gotta tell me.”

He laughs and turns you gently so your back is to him. He shifts your wet hair out of the way, and then begins to massage your shoulders. His hands drop down your arms, squeezing and rubbing, then back up, feeling their way over your breasts and down your stomach.

“Gonna make you feel nice ‘n better, after last night.”

Your lips fall open, silently begging him not to stop, to keep going further down, to fuck you with his fingers against the cool tile.

You forget he’s a mind reader. He’s already doing it before your thought is done.

Fingers run over your clit, already sensitive and swollen, and you gasp.

“That feel good, darlin’?” he whispers in your ear.

Your head falls back to his shoulder with a moan, and he kisses your neck, sucking softly on the sensitive spots that were between his teeth last night. His fingers rub you gently.

“So pretty for me, baby.”

You can feel your legs starting to give, but his free arm wraps around your waist, holding you up so that, even if you wanted to, you couldn’t collapse.

His fingers dip lower still, parting your lips, running through your folds. He’s so good, you think you might be dreaming. Then he inserts a curled finger and you know for sure, this is no dream.

“Joel…”

You squirm under his touch, and it only pushes him further. A second finger, stretching you out more, pressing up against the soft, spongey insides of your pussy. You grip onto his arm snaked around your waist with one hand, place the other against the tile to steady yourself.

“Doin’ so good, baby, that’s it. Just like that.” His voice is as smooth as whiskey in your ear, the drawl of his accent sending you as far as the fingers hooked inside your cunt.

Your breathing starts to stammer, your stomach tightening with your orgasm fast approaching. Joel inserts a third finger, making you cry out, and your head knocks into his shoulder again. Pleasure sparks between your legs, the weight of you riding on Joel’s hand, fire igniting through every nerve in your body.

“‘attagirl, all over me,” Joel coaches you through it, his other hand forced to let go of your waist to steady you both against the wall as your release doubles you over.

You come back to earth; stars in your vision, feeling the weight of him on your back, protecting you from the spray of water from the shower, chin still dipped over your shoulder.

“We’re good at this,” he whispers, and you give a blissful smile. “One day they’ll make a movie about us.”

You come back to reality with a hearty laugh, turning back around slowly. Joel’s arms snake around your waist and he pulls you in for a deep kiss.

“Maybe one day we could do that ourselves,” you tease.

He gives a smile which means more than it looks. You’re a mind reader, too. He likes that idea. He’s…considering it.

“I gotta go,” Joel says after some time.

You nod.

He follows you out of the shower and hands you the towel he’d sat on the counter for himself, dripping off to the linen closet in the hallway for another while you pat yourself dry. You scoop up his shirt and throw it over yourself, laying back down on his bed to wait for him finishing up getting ready.

Another thing you love doing: watching him. Whether he’s driving, grabbing a beer from the fridge, or just getting dressed like right now, you like to watch him. Study him. Know him better than he knows himself.

He doesn’t typically let you watch him do much – his hands are usually all over you with the precious little time you two get together – and when he clocks you staring over at him as he buckles his belt, he snorts.

“Besotted, ain’tcha?”

He stands at the foot of the bed. You say nothing back. Then he begins crawling up, knees apart to climb over your legs, and crouches over you as you giggle.

His head drops down to give you one last meaningful kiss before you know he has to leave. When you part, his forehead leans against yours.

“Hook, line, and sinker,” he softly says.

You don’t have a reply. At least, not one you want him to hear. Yet.

“Go pick up Sarah. I’ll be gone when you come back.”

He stands, and you take his offered hand to pull yourself up from the bed.

“Don’t have to be. I’ll tell her you wanted to surprise her.”

You shake your head. “I got work later anyways. And y’all deserve some time alone to catch up. I’ll see you when I see you.”

“Okay, darlin’,” he says in a mocking baby tone, pouting his lips. Pulls you in for a quick squeeze. Then turns and wanders off down the hall to the top of the stairs.

“How will you cope without being the center of my attention?” he calls back.

You smile to yourself and watch as his figure disappears. You stand on his carpet, still, silent, until the front door shuts and his truck engine hums in the drive.

Your eyes travel around his room. His unmade bed, one big dip in the middle of the mattress where your bodies had been pressed together, limbs intertwined, sharing breath. The small pile of your clothes Joel had laid out as you dozed, neatly tucked on a dresser, your phone laying on top. A framed photo of him and Sarah on his windowsill that makes your chest tighten when your eyes find it.

You turn away and start getting ready, picking up your clothes one by one. Your panties are missing – not that they’d be much use anyways, the last state you saw them in. It’d be hot to go commando if you thought Joel might find out; less hot when you’re just about to head off on a walk of shame back to your dad’s.

You wander around to Joel’s nightstand and roll the drawer open. Pick up a pair of white boxers and pull them on. As you leave, you throw his tee over your elbow.

He won’t notice it’s gone, right?

----------

You’re perched on your window seat, watching the quiet street below. It’s been two days since you last saw Joel, strolling down his hallway to go pick up Sarah. You’d been working the past couple days anyway, but your mind had been elsewhere.

You and Joel weren’t able to see each other for obvious reasons, but he was always at the end of the phone whenever you were bored and wanted attention. Truthfully, you’d spent every waking minute hanging over your cell, waiting for it to light up with a message or call from him.

You unlock it and scroll through the last few texts you’d exchanged.

Joel: Decorations were a hit. Should be all over Instagram or whatever

You: You’re welcome ;)

Joel: Don’t I get any credit?

You: You can take the credit for blowing my back out afterward. Let me have the decs

Joel: Fair.

You smile, reading back over the messages. You’d been trying not to bother him so much now that Sarah was back, but you’re struggling to find anything to distract your thoughts from him. What he’s up to, where he is, who he’s with…and not even in a jealous way. Just…because you miss him.

That’s the weird part. Missing him.

Sure, for the last two weeks, anytime your hands have been on your body, it’s Joel’s name passing your lips in breathy moans. But missing the sound of his voice? The smell of him?

That’s new. That’s weird.

There’s a knock at your bedroom door.

“Yeah?”

Your dad nudges in, toolbox in hand. “Hey, hon. Just thought I’d have a look at that latch on your window that keeps catchin’.”

“Oh,” you say, shifting from your seat. “Sure. Thanks.”

He sets the toolbox at the end of your bed, and you shift some cushions and blankets to sit beside it. As he’s digging through his tools, he glances up and notices the men’s large t-shirt laying strewn across your pillows.

“New shirt?” he asks.

You look over your shoulder. Fuck.

“Texas Rangers.” Your dad raises his eyebrows, nodding. “Impressed.”

“Yeah, I– I, uh…” You’re scrambling for some excuse, words tripping over one another in the scram to explain. “Got it at a thrift store the other day. It’s nice to sleep in, I guess.”

He hums and then turns, completely oblivious. “Might head over to Joel’s once I’ve done this, since I got the tools out. He has some pipe in his bathroom he reckons is leakin’. You wanna come? See Sarah for a bit?”

“Maybe…” you hum, not really listening. You’re typing a message out to Joel.

You: My dad just totally spotted your shirt on my bed…

Joel: So you’ve got my shirt? I was looking all over for it.

You: Is it really that much of a surprise? Had to say I’d thrifted it

Joel: Offended by the fact you wanted him to believe anyone would throw out a Rangers shirt

You: Well, he believed it, so what does that tell you, cowboy?

Joel: Given what we know your dad’s oblivious to right now, not a lot, kid

You: Speaking of, when can I see you?

Joel: Tough right now with Sarah being home. Sorry baby. Soon as we can, I promise.

You throw yourself back onto your bed with a sigh.

“Boy trouble?” your dad asks.

“Huh?” You sit up straight. What…the fuck?

He chuckles, messing around with the window, his back turned to you. “Awfully big sigh. I know that sigh. Who is he?”

If Joel were in the room right now, he’d be masking his laughter behind a closed fist at the mere sight of your face. You stare at your dad’s back for a decent amount of time, long enough for him to turn back and look at you.

“You hearin’ me?” he asks. “It someone I know? It ain’t your friend Sam from Frank’s, is it? That boy don’t know his hand from his foot at the best ’a times. You can do better than him.”

“It ain’t a boy. And I appreciate the advice, but I’m good, Dad.”

“Speakin’ of advice…” He walks slowly over to the bed, switching out some tools. “I got this supplier whose daughter works in human resources at…uh…some company, downtown. Name escapes me. He was tellin’ me it’s good money, lotta hours…Said she’d be happy to meet with you if you wanted to go in for an interview.”

“I…I’m okay, I think. Thanks, though.”

“Sure? I thought maybe you’d wanna be lookin’ for something a little more…permanent.”

“I will,” you reply, glancing down at your phone. No new messages. “I just…I’m happy at Sal’s right now.”

“Right, right. And Sal’s been real good to you, kiddo.”

“I kinda wanna see what I can get with my degree anyway.”

Your thumbs dance over the keyboard, still hunting for attention from Joel, and searching for the right words to get it. You’re barely even present in the room with your dad when you hear him ask, “Film? You really think there’s gonna be much out there?”

Your head whips up. He’s sauntering back over to the window. Your phone lands with a thud on your bed beside your thigh.

“Uh…I don’t know. ‘s why I wanna look.”

“Hm.”

“Hm?”

He shakes his head, screwing something into your window frame. “Naw, I just…don’t know what you’re gonna find, is all.” He chuckles a little. Kinda chuckle that makes your fists ball.

You watch him through thin eyes, pulling your bottom lip under your teeth. “Well, I got Sal’s to keep me goin’ until I do find somethin’.”

Your dad doesn’t reply. You stare him down until he turns around, notices you, and raises his brows, forehead crinkling.

When he dives back into the toolbox instead of responding, you start to feel heat in your belly.

You speak through your teeth. “Is that…Is it okay?”

“Sure, hon. I ain’t tellin’ you what to do.”

“Well, you ain’t tellin’ me much else, though, so…”

“I’m only thinking,” he lifts his palms, your eyes trace them, “your degree is very specific. And there maybe isn’t a lot of specific work down this way for somethin’ like film. That’s all. I thought HR might be a good move.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. He’s closing over the metal lid.

“Then why’d I go through four years of studying it?”

“Because it interested you. And because you were good at it–”

“So, shouldn’t I be doin’ something with it?”

“–but ultimately, hon, a degree’s just a degree, you understand?”

Your face screws up, lip curled. “Huh?”

“Lotta folks don’t got a degree. Lotta folks get one, and it goes to waste. They spend all that money, all that time…and work part-time in some dead-end job for the rest of their lives. Chasin’ a career that’s never comin’.”

You choke back a laugh, a stunned, confused, livid laugh. Your lips tremble and twist in and out of different shapes, trying to form words that your voice won’t speak.

“You worked damn hard to get that degree. Now, use it. Use it right.”

He slaps the toolbox closed and starts trotting out of your room, and you find your voice.

“Oh, screw you!”

Your dad’s hand hooks around the doorframe and he turns back. “Pardon me?”

“What fuckin’ right do you have to tell me I’m gonna end up in a dead-end job? Ain’t a job a job?”

“Woah, kiddo,” he holds a hand out, “no, no, that’s not what I’m sayin’. Not at all.”

“You’re saying I should give up tryna get a job I actually want, and get a real job, right? That– That film ain’t much of a thing? I worked my ass off for nothin’?”

“No, you worked your ass off for everything, and you deserve to find somethin’ that rewards all your hard work.”

“Oh, what the fuck does that even mean?” You throw your arms up, striding across the room.

He shakes his head with a sigh. “It means – I just want what’s best for you. I was just thinkin’ out loud, honey. That’s all.”

In one sweep, he’s gone. The toolbox rattles down the hall and recedes into background noise. You’re stood in a cloud of rage at your door, breath coming hard and fast out of your nose, staring at the empty hallway before you.

You stalk over to your bed and your thumbs finally figure out what to send to Joel.

You: Are you free to talk real quick??

He’s calling you within thirty seconds.

“What’s up?” his voice speaks before you even open your mouth, and instantly you feel yourself calming.

“Are you eating?”

“Mhm. Grilled cheese.”

You can hear the chewing sounds through the receiver.

“You mind swallowing before you talk?”

“Sorry, darlin’,” he chuckles a little, then clears his throat. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Just…” You sigh. “Fuck…I don’t even know.”

Your head falls into one hand as you pace back and forth.

“I had this argument with my dad; he’s goin’ on about careers and jobs and using my degree – but to do somethin’ I don’t wanna do. Then, he’s makin’ out like I’ll never find a job in film, or in anything I want. And he said that– He basically said that I’ll be in a dead-end job forever, ‘less I go work in human resources.”

Joel’s quiet for a few seconds until he realizes you’re done. “’sec, baby, I got a mouthful of grilled cheese over here.”

You roll your eyes and, after a gulp, his voice floats back through your phone.

“He wants you to– Human resources, I hear that right?”

“Yup. He says it’s a good place to be, apparently.”

“Your dad, the contractor?”

You throw your arm up in the air again. “Thank you!”

Joel and his laughter cut you short before you start another rant.

“Alright, alright, first of all…you already got a job, and it’s a good, steady job; you like it, you’re happy enough there, right?”

“Mhm,” you agree.

“Mhm. So that’s not an issue. Second, you’re twenty-three. That’s still young, darlin’. You got your whole life to try and find somethin’ you really like. Hell, I didn’t figure it out until I had Sarah. You got time. Don’t worry about it.

“And third: who gives a fuck what your dad thinks? If you’re happy, what’s it matter what him or anyone else says?”

You nod, sitting down on your bed. Your eyes are starting to well.

“Hm?” Joel beckons.

“Yeah,” you squeak.

“Don’t you worry that pretty little mind, baby. It was just an argument. He wants what’s best for you, ‘n if I know him half as well as I do, he just got his words a little jumbled up.”

“I’m still fuckin’ mad at him, though,” you mumble.

Joel laughs. “Yeah. ‘n I reckon you’re allowed to be, for a little bit.”

“Thanks. Sorry for interruptin’ you ‘n your grilled cheese.”

“’s alright. I gotta make you one of these next time you’re over here, I’m a master at ‘em. Sarah’s favorite.”

You lay back on your bed, giggling. “I’m gonna hold you to that, y’know.”

“Oh, I know, kid. Hey, I was actually thinking of dropping by tomorrow mornin’, got some papers your dad wants to take a look at. Figured I’d catch ‘im before he goes off to work.”

You feel your heart swell just at the thought of him being in front of you, actually in person, standing right there. Cotton-covered chest to be touched, worked hands to be held, rough but gentle lips to be kissed.

Hard cock to be – never mind.

“Yeah?” you say, coolly, trying not to let him in on the butterflies swirling around your stomach.

“Yep. Better be awake. I’ll want my t-shirt back.”

“Setting my alarm as we speak.”

----------

You’re in the kitchen making breakfast when you hear the front door open, and an all too familiar Texas drawl.

“Anybody home?”

You lean back from the counter and stare down the hallway toward the door, which he closes and turns to face you.

“Hello, darlin’.”

“Hi,” you mutter, smiling.

“Dad in?”

You nod. “Upstairs. Getting ready.”

His fingers tug on your t-shirt sleeve. His t-shirt sleeve.

“Nice shirt.”

You give a bashful smile, but he’s grinning. The fucker loves seeing you in his clothes as much as you love wearing them. He doesn’t care.

Joel sets his papers on the countertop and runs a hand through your hair, sweeping it out of your face. You lean into his touch by instinct, then catch yourself, and move away, but Joel stays where he is.

“You okay?” he murmurs.

“Mhm. Want some cereal?”

He smiles, shaking his head, then lowers his chin and softly presses his lips to yours.

Your hands drop the box like it’s scorching hot, and link around his neck. He pushes against you, pinning you to the counter.

If it weren’t for the thudding of your dad’s footsteps down the stairs right then, you’d probably ask Joel to fuck you right here and now in your kitchen. You’re that needy.

“Hey, partner,” your dad calls when he notices Joel, now standing a good four feet away from you, papers back in his fist.

You pour some milk in the bowl and lean back against the island, cereal in hand.

“Brought that paperwork.” Joel lifts his fist, and your dad nods gratefully.

“Hey,” your dad says, turning to you and knocking your shoulder with his index finger. “Here’s the number of that guy’s daughter I was talkin’ about…”

You take a deep breath, studying the card in his hand, the name Vanessa Hart printed below some logo. Joel notices your expression when your dad holds it out between two fingers. He knows y’all fought – though he’s not meant to – but he doesn’t know you two haven’t spoken since. You ate dinner in your room alone last night.

The look in your eye catches him up just fine.

“What’s this?” Joel asks, returning the papers to the counter behind you and taking the business card from your dad’s hand. He tosses it over before passing to you. You wordlessly take it, sliding your bowl alongside his paperwork.

“She’s been thinkin’ about work. Lookin’ around for somethin’ a little more…challenging, than retail anyway. Right?”

You raise your eyebrows. “Right.”

Joel looks at you intently. Knowingly. “Thought you wanted to be a journalist, or something? Film…? No?”

You glance up at him. “I, um…”

“This is maybe somethin’ a little more realistic, y’know.” Your dad shifts from foot to foot, almost awkwardly.

“She got a degree in film,” Joel mutters, almost leaning into you to make you answer. Your eyes travel along to his shoulder. “You like film, right?”

“I like film. Yeah. It was good.”

“So, you don’t wanna do somethin’ with that?”

Your shoulders tense as you look up at him, trying to answer him honestly and at the same time, stop another heated discussion from happening between you and your dad, who then initiates that discussion himself by piping up.

“What’s Sarah doin’, again, Joel?”

You wince, knowing what’s about to happen.

“Sports Science.” Joel’s voice feels dangerous. He’s still staring at you. Vanessa’s card is beginning to tremble in your hands as you flip it over and over.

“See? Now, that, I would understand. That’s a great degree. Not that yours isn’t,” your dad shoots you a look as he’s packing his lunch into his bag, “just that, with Sports Science, I mean…she could do lotsa stuff.”

“I could do lots with film, too, Dad.” You try to mask the anger through your teeth.

“Like what?”

Joel sighs under his breath. Your eyes dart across his. You take a deep breath, steady yourself.

“Like…journalism, or production, or promotion. Lots of behind-the-scenes stuff.”

“I’m just tryna look out for you, kiddo, just tryna be realistic. Like I said last night, there aren’t so many opportunities in that sorta stuff down here. Fine, up in New York, but in Austin? Nah.”

“Maybe you just gotta move back to New York. I’ll come with ya,” Joel says, shrugging, with an expression that elicits a laugh from you. He looks relieved to see you smile.

Your dad clears his throat and takes a step closer to you. Your smile fades as quickly as it appeared.

“I just want what’s best for you. The arts…ain’t really a steady job. Somethin’ like Sports Science, see, now, that’s safe. That’s a good choice.”

“A good choice,” you echo, your face flushing. “So, mine wasn’t a good choice?”

“No, it’s just that–”

“Why are we havin’ this same conversation again, Dad?” You throw the card behind you on the counter. “I said I’d do my own thing, in my own time, and you come up with even more to shove in my damn face. You can’t just leave it? Not even for one day?”

“Aw, c’mon, hon, film? Tell me what you found, lookin’ for jobs in film. Go on.”

Joel’s head cocks and he holds a hand out. “Alright, that’s enough.”

“No, tell me. I’m seriously askin’. What did you find? ‘cause I’ve been lookin’, kiddo–”

You scoff. “Oh, you’ve been looking.”

“Yes, I have, which seems to be a damn sight more ‘n you’ve done, and there ain’t nothin’. Now, I’m sorry for bringing it up. I thought I was doin’ a good thing. Thought you’d appreciate me helpin’ out.”

“Sure. I appreciate you steppin’ foot where you ain’t wanted. And then insulting me while you’re at it.”

Your dad sighs and lifts his arms, bringing them down onto his thighs with a clap. Then he picks his bag up, slings it over his shoulder, and turns back to you.

“I just wanted to help. I’m gone, alright? Joel, thanks for those, I’ll take a look when I’m home.”

Without another word, he strides down the hall and heads out the front door.

Joel’s hand immediately wraps around your arm.

“Hey,” he says when you turn away, tears forming. “Woah, hey. It’s alright.”

He pulls you into his chest and rests his chin on your head, and you bury your face into his shirt, groaning with rage. He rubs the back of your head and hushes you as you weep into his chest.

He pulls away, cupping your chin and pushing the hair out of your face. You’re still bubbling away, Joel’s thumbs wiping away tears hot with anger from your cheeks.

“I’m not crying ‘cause I’m upset,” you sniff, and he nods, softly caressing your face. “I’m crying ‘cause I’m fuckin’ angry.”

“I know, baby,” he fusses. “He’s bein’ an ass, no doubt about that.”

“I told you.” You ball your fists and lightly bump them against his strong chest. “Fuckin’ dick.”

“Fuckin’ dick,” Joel agrees, and you laugh. “Tell me what to do to make you feel better.”

You lean back, Joel’s hand locked around yours to stop you from falling. A dark thought crosses your mind, and you do your best not to let it show through your eyes. Joel seems oblivious when he reels you in and your hands come to rest on his pecs.

“I dunno,” you mumble, eyes stuck on the fabric of his shirt.

“Must be somethin’. What do you want me to do?”

“Just…stick around for a bit? Keep me company.”

“Company, huh? What’s that entail?”

“We could…watch a movie?” Your fingers flirt with the collar of his open shirt. “…could…talk…?”

Joel studies you as you slowly peel the button-up from his shoulders, letting it rest on his biceps.

“Darlin’,” he murmurs, realizing where you’re at, “I got stuff I should be doin’ today.”

“I know. Just…make me feel better first.”

He sighs, looking at you from beneath his brows. His shirt is hanging from his elbows, his palms planted firmly against your waist. His hands are squeezing you just enough to encourage you to keep going.

“Won’t be long. Promise. You can have your shirt back, after it.”

You angle your jaw and smile sweetly at him, and he lowers his to meet you halfway. Your breath hot against his lips, you whisper, “’s not like either of us are gonna last longer than five minutes, anyway,” and he closes the space between you.

When your lips connect, Joel pushes off the counter and begins backing you toward the couch.

“I love,” you breathe into the kiss, “when you do that.”

“Do what?” he mutters back, lifting the hem of your top.

You fall back onto the couch and Joel follows.

“Give in to me.”

He pulls back, eyes skimming across your half-naked body, t-shirt ruffled up to the bottom of your bare breasts.

“That’s all I do, baby.”

You open your legs beneath him and his hips slot between yours, hardening jeans rubbing against your sleep shorts. His tongue leaves wet marks down your neck and across your collarbone, hands creeping further up your naked torso.

When you buck your hips, Joel understands, and takes the waist of your shorts in tight fists, pulling them off your legs in one movement. His hand comes down to cup your sex and shift your underwear aside. He’s moving without thinking; it’s instinct by this point. He knows exactly what to do to get you where he wants you.

His fingers move around your folds, dancing in and out of your entrance, rubbing your clit. It’s not enough. It’s never fucking enough. You whine, and he listens again, slipping two fingers inside your wet cunt.

Your back arches, chest rising to meet his. A sigh of relief passes your lips, finally feeling his body on – and in – yours again.

“We– I don’t wanna– fucking hell, Joel– I can’t wait this long for you,” you whimper, as he dips his jaw to suck a bruise into your neck.

“Hm?”

“Too – fucking – long. I need you – all the fuckin’ time.”

He’s humming against your hot skin. Your fingers are knotting in his hair, dark brown flecked with streaks of gray tangled around your knuckles.

His fingers burrow deeper, stretching your wet pussy out just right. You clench around him.

“Need you,” you breathe again, “all the time.”

“You got me, pretty girl,” Joel coos, lips now dancing across yours. “I’m here now.”

Your foreheads lock like they always do, Joel’s eyes trained on yours like they always are. He fucking loves watching you, loves the way your eyes glaze over and you submit to whatever he wants to do to you. I started it, and I know how to finish it.

His thumb begins to rub your clit, pad drawing circles around and round. Your hips lift again in response, and you feel a smirk pull on Joel’s lips. You’re writhing under his touch, the entire room filling with filthy moans of his name and of yours, tangling together in the air and knotting as tight as the pressure building in your stomach.

You reach down and begin to unbuckle his belt, hands weaving around Joel’s wrist to gain access to his jeans. Your fingers graze the rough teeth of his zipper when you hear something outside.

The sound of a car door slamming.

Your lips freeze against Joel’s. His hand stops dead against your core.

“Was that–?”

The front door bursts open and the hallway fills with the early morning light.

Joel heaves himself off of you, scarpering to the other side of the room as you straighten up, slam your sensitive legs closed and kick your shorts under the couch. Your tee is long enough to cover your thighs, only if you stay seated.

Your dad rounds the corner to the room just as you both assume position.

“Joel still around? His truck’s– Oh, hey, bud. What the hell you still doin’ here?”

Joel clears his throat. “She, uh– She said somethin’ was up with the TV. Bad signal or somethin’, right?”

“Right.” You nod almost furiously.

Your dad blinks. Looks from you, to Joel, to the TV behind him. Which is switched off.

You toe the line between still mad at your dad, and wanting to appear totally innocent. “Joel was just having a look. He, uh…switched it off.”

“Waitin’ for it to reboot.” Joel sways back to hold a steady – slick-covered – hand to the TV set. You wince as he notices your gleaming wet coating his fingers, unreadable expression on his face, and calmly holds them behind his back.

“That so?” your dad says, pouting his lips. “I didn’t notice anything last night.”

Joel doesn’t reply, instead choosing to let the moment pass in awkward silence until your dad changes the subject. Joel knows him better than most, and it works in the end, but you wish he’d just fucking say something to take your mind off of the hand he’s currently hiding behind his back and your shorts disturbing the dust under the couch.

“Left my hardhat,” your dad says, almost flatly. “You seen it, kiddo?”

You shake your head. “Nope.”

“You wanna help me look?”

Right now? With no pants on? And your best friend stood less than six feet away? You know what, I’m good, Dad.

“Not really.”

He sighs and shakes his head to Joel, a Can you believe her?

Joel sputters out a forced chuckle, which he cuts short when he notices your sharp glare in his direction.

When your dad disappears upstairs, you fish your shorts out and throw them on.

“That,” Joel leans into you, motioning to where your dad was just standing, “was too damn close, you hear?”

“How was I supposed to know he’d come back?” you hiss.

“If we’re–” another flappy hand movement between the two of you, “y’know, we gotta be on alert for any–”

“We–” you mimic his gesture, “thought we had an empty house. If he walks in on somethin’, then that’s–”

“Don’t tell me that’s on him, kid.” Joel tilts his head, inviting you to finish your sentence with something more sensible. Before you can answer, your dad calls out.

“Got it!”

His boots thud back down the stairs.

You and Joel spring back to your positions, an unassuming two meters of carpet separating you both. Your dad stands at the opposite end of the coffee table, holding his hardhat up like it’s a trophy.

“Alright,” you clap your hands, “see ya, then.”

You brush past him toward the kitchen, feigning grabbing a drink. In your wake, you hear him mumble something to Joel about you not forgiving him just yet. Joel doesn’t laugh.

Eventually, he doddles off to the door, and Joel slowly follows. You hear the click of the door handle, and the hallway floods with light again, tile floor painted with Joel’s silhouette. When the sound of the engine trudges off into the distance, the door slams shut, and his figure materializes beside you once again.

You’re holding a bottle of water against your lips. Not drinking. Joel takes the bottle and sets it down on the counter.

He doesn’t speak. Barely even looks at you. Just takes your waist and hoists you up onto the kitchen counter. It’s cold under your bare thighs, but he lifts your knees and tugs at the waistband of your shorts, slipping them off for the second time in, what, ten minutes?

You sit still and watch him, stood between your legs, looking you up and down. His gaze falls to his still soaked fingers, and with a blank expression, like it’s as normal as passing you the sauce over dinner, he lifts his hand.

“Wanna clean up your mess for me?”

He presses the pads of his fingers to your bottom lip. Asks you without words to part them.

Your mouth falls open, not because you tell it to, but because his words pour a fog over your entire body that dumbs you senseless. That same intoxicating drawl, the way his head tilts with every perfectly innocent question laced with just the right amount of filth to have you do whatever the fuck he tells you.

He pushes his fingers into your mouth, resting them on your tongue.

“Now, pretty girl. Put that mouth to good use.”

“Joel–” you mumble into his knuckles, but he shushes you.

“Clean. Them.”

In a fluttering haze, you close your mouth around his thick fingers and suck, tongue slipping over them, under, between. Joel watches almost dangerously, like a wild animal watching its prey. He’s focused entirely on your wet lips, the way they’re bobbing up and down over his knuckles.

His fingers are sweet, coated in your thick arousal, and when you loosen your jaw, he pushes them in further. Almost chokes you with the way he forces them back. His eyes are dark, clouded over by the way your pretty little mouth looks. The way it feels, choking and spitting all over him.

When your eyes close over, his free hand comes up to cup the back of your head.

“Look at me, baby,” he murmurs, and your eyes flutter back open; light seeps into your vision and chases everything but the man between your legs out of focus.

You can’t taste yourself on him anymore. He tastes like Joel again. But he doesn’t stop. His fingers hit the back of your throat, and he only withdraws them when you gag.

He slips out, soaked in your saliva, and his wet hand falls back to place on your thigh.

You’re breathing heavily, drool dripping from your lips, but you know for a fucking fact if you move to wipe it, he’ll stop you.

His grip on the back of your neck tightens suddenly.

“You wanna act like a little whore? You get treated like one.”

His hand moves to his waistband and he undoes his own belt, batting away your fingers when you try to help.

He lets you link your arms over his shoulders as he messily unzips his jeans, tugging them down only a little. His rough hand grabs your knee and hooks it over his elbow, opening your legs wide for him.

“J…”

“Shut up.”

Now’s not the time for talking. He’s got a glassy expression in his eye that you don’t recognize. He doesn’t want to fucking talk. He wants you to make him cum.

“Wanted me to fuck you on your dad’s couch, huh? Wanted to make a mess in his livin’ room?”

“Mhm,” you whine, and he lifts your ass up to bring a hand down on it. Shut up.

“’n what if he’d walked in a few minutes later than he did? Saw the pair of us? That what you want?”

You bite your lip and look at him under hooded lids; answer enough. Nah, you didn’t want your dad to see you guys. But, fuck, you liked the thought of being caught.

“Dirty fuckin’ girl,” he’s murmuring, lining up to your cunt, pre-cum soaking the reddened tip of his cock. You’re staring at it, mesmerized, mind totally blanked by it.

“Look at you,” he whispers roughly, “drunk on it, aren’t you darlin’? You want it inside you?”

You nod, but it doesn’t matter. The slightest movement of your head and he’s pushing inside you, stretching your tight hole around the thick head of his cock.

Joel groans and his head falls back, eyes on the ceiling. He makes it halfway in before he’s pulling back again.

“Fuck,” you whisper.

“Shut – the fuck – up,” he replies, hips pushing forward into yours again.

You bite back a whine as he pushes further and further, filling you up, pain and pleasure and fucking bliss rippling through you, driven by Joel.

He wastes no time letting you adjust, no long, slow strokes. No tender kisses or fingers guiding his dick in. He picks up a dangerous pace from the outset, hips snapping into yours, bouncing you against the kitchen counter.

This is what this is, isn’t it? This whole thing between you guys. You have needs; Joel has needs. You’re just both coincidentally very good at helping the other meet their needs. What’s wrong with that, right?

Your head starts to swim with the feeling of Joel’s cock spearing you, the image of your kitchen floating in and out of focus, the thought of being one doorway away from being caught. You imagine Marcia in her backyard, almost in plain view of you two right now, seeing you propped up on the counter with your dad’s best friend between your legs, fucking the hell out of you.

And then your eyes find Joel again, beads of sweat at his forehead, cheeks flushed. He meets your lazy gaze and his hand takes your jaw, thumb and finger on each side.

“Good?” he asks, breathless, teeth gritted.

You nod.

Then Joel nods. “Good.” His eyes close over and he fucks you even harder onto his length, hurting so good every time your bodies connect.

The heat is stifling, not from the Texan summer, but from the two of you – sweating, panting, fucking off one another, bodies slipping against and sticking. The air fills thick with your stifled moans, Joel’s bitten grunts, the slapping of skin, your wet mixing with his.

You can’t take it anymore. Your head lulls back with a loud, long moan. Joel knows that moan.

“Think I should let you cum?” he asks. “You think you deserve it?”

“Fuck – please – Joel,” you’re panting, and he spanks your ass again. It doubles you over; your head collapses against his shoulder.

“Mm,” he hums, contemplating. “Dunno if you do, babygirl.”

“L-let me cum,” you plead, tears falling from your eyes, electricity whirling around your core. Your head rolls around on his strong shoulder. “’m so close.”

“Know you are, darlin’. ‘s too easy to do this to you,” Joel pants, breath jerking each time his hips do. “Get so wound up for me, every damn time.”

“Joel,” you’re begging now, unable to loosen your grip on his shoulders. “Fucking – please.”

“Come over for five minutes and you can’t keep your hands off me, can you?”

You whimper in response, the feeling between your legs turning to tightly-wound pain. Your hands have come down to hold onto the edge of the counter, marble cutting into your damp skin under your grip.

“Want to…Want…”

“Tell me, baby. Talk.”

“Want to cum, Joel,” you pine, eyes screwing shut.

“I’m gonna let you, pretty girl. You don’t gotta worry about that. Just gotta ask nicely, huh?”

“Fuck,” you whisper, stars and tears clearing from your vision to reveal him once more. You don’t have the fucking energy to beg him anymore. Not like this. “Please, Joel.”

“Nicer.”

“Please let me cum, promise I’ll be good. I’ll be quiet.”

He laughs, some smug, cocky laugh. If you had a sliver of energy and half the feeling in your body, you’d bat his arm.

“Don’t want you to be quiet, angel. You wanted to get caught, remember? Get us caught, then. Let ‘em all hear just what you’re up to.”

“No,” you moan, head shaking, “don’t wanna get caught. Just w-wanna cum. Please, Joel…”

You shake your head, pathetic beg painted all over your face. Joel’s expression falters, softens, only for a nanosecond, but you know him well enough to notice it. Something in his exterior breaks, something cracks.

“Then why didn’t you fuckin’ say so?” he coos. His arms wrap around you – finally – holding you up against his torso, his lips pressed to your ear. “Come on, darlin’, you can let go.”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence before it happens. Your orgasm floods over you, pulsing from your soaking pussy up and across your stomach, lighting your shoulders and tightening your grip on Joel. You bite into his shoulder, muffling a sob as your walls contract, coil snaps, tension relieves.

You fucking hurt. All over. You don’t even feel him pull out, don’t realize he’s gone until he’s pumping cum all over your stomach, jacking himself to the sound of you coming undone. It’s only when you come around and feel the hot wet rolling down your tummy that you notice.

Joel’s breathing is labored. His dark tee has sweat patches under the arms, along his chest. You can feel it on his back.

You lean against him for what feels like hours, legs either side of him, his soft dick on your stomach, cum seeping into your panties. He lets you, just holds you tight and gently sways, listening to your breath slowly steadying, feeling your body stop shaking.

His voice is nothing but vibrations under your cheek, resting safely on his chest. Your ears are still ringing too loud to actually hear the words he says.

When you don’t reply, Joel’s hands cup your cheeks and lift your head to face him. You read the words on his lips.

“Need to know you’re okay before I go.”

“I’m okay,” you mumble.

“Can you walk?”

Your eyes roll back by themselves as he takes a step back, one hand around yours, the other braced in case you fall. You slip off the counter shakily, and, with as much effort as it’d probably take to go for a hike right now in the sun, you stand straight.

“I can take it,” you tell him.

Joel takes a deep breath. “Know you can, baby. Did so well for me.” He tugs his tee down over your stomach to cover the mess he’s made. “You want help cleaning up?”

You give one lazy shake of your head, almost entirely leaning on your shoulder. “I’m gonna head for a shower anyways.”

He takes your shorts and kneels, pulling them back over your legs one by one. You’re bracing yourself on his shoulders, and he stands as he settles them on your waist.

Joel gives your hand a gentle pull and leads you down the hallway. You walk with him, knees weak, to the front door. Joel holds it open and you let go of his fingers to step into the burning sun, hand coming up to shield your eyes. The breath of fresh air wakes you up from your state a little.

“Bright one,” you murmur, as his shoulder comes to meet yours.

“Oh, mornin’, Joel,” Hank calls from the sidewalk as he hobbles by, newspaper under his arm. He sings your name and you nod back in greeting. “You’re both up ‘n about early.”

“Broken TV,” Joel waves back, turning to look at you, “and a few other things needed fixin’.”

Hank nods and keeps walking. When he rounds the corner toward his own house, you glance back at Joel.

“What?” you ask.

“Still wearin’ my shirt.”

“You want it back now? Here ‘n now?”

“If you’re offering a striptease, baby, I’ll take it. Out here or inside, I don’t mind.”

You slap his arm and turn back to head inside. “I’ve had enough of you today.”

“You call me anytime that TV starts playin’ up, darlin’,” he calls over his shoulder.

You blindly throw your middle finger up over your shoulder in response, and feel his strong fingers wrap around your wrist. He tugs you back, and you swirl around to meet his stoic gaze.

“Day or night,” he tells you, “you call me.”

He walks off to his truck.

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