#hey so can I just point out how scary all his kicks and the ways he moves have been? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

goldsbitch · 6 months

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Just don't talk--------

-you might say something that hurts.

p10 to Just don't talk

summary: Enemies to lovers on steroids. The PR teams strike again.

Y/N was unusually giddy while doing interviews on the grid that day. It was hard to be nervous when in the corner of her eye she saw Lando, in his usual glorious unbothered style, seemingly more confident than he'd been the past few weeks.

Smiles shared in secret, both of them being lifted up by enormous amount of butterflies. Yet they both tried their best to keep busy in order to push off their inevitable "what are we" talk.

She was more than sure what she wanted to be to him. But the thought of him not being willing to make the lead was a scary one - so let's just ignore it and keep thinking about his tongue on her neck. And Lando? He was doing exactly the same. Both of them blissfully unaware that their crush has started to become impossible to hide.

"Y/N, what do you think about the car on this track? Will you be competetive enough for a podium?" was a simple and boring question that Y/N tried to answer in a creative way, but nothing was coming to her mind. With a great smile, she replied: "Yeah, I have a pretty good feeling that things are turning out for good."

Lando was "not so accidentally" passing by at that exact moment, deliberately taking the rout where he would have to walk past her, because his body just wanted to be near her at any point possible. His school boy instinct kicked in and in the same way as a five-year old boy would pull his crushes hair, he snatched Y/N team cap of her head gracefully in order to tease her.

"Hey!" she screamed in the middle of listening to another question from the interviewer and turned around, knowing well who that was, as she watched him approaching before. A small amused smile escaped her, it was impossible to stop it. Same for Lando.

"Oh, hello, Lando," the interviewer acknowledged him, hoping for some good viral content.

"Hey," was his speedy response, probably not ever trying to hide his own amusement.

Y/N tried to keep it cool and look at his lips. "Give it back, Lando." Nope, she failed at keeping her smile in.

"You know where to pick it up, honey," he said simply, winked and said goodbye to the interviewer as he walked away. Y/N's stomach dropped at how obvious he was with his flirting in public and how impossible she found it to keep herself together. She took a moment before resuming, internally fuming. She was happy and mortified at the same time.

"Well," Y/N said as she turned back to her interview. "Where were we?" And there it was - a fatal smile that would cost her in the future.

The interviewer was full on a mission to not let that go. "I see the mood has shifted between you two, has the previous feud passed now?"

"I guess you could say that, yes," she replied, slowly pulling herself back, heart still beating like after running a marathon.

"Do you guys spend time together off the track? Has that maybe helped?" How the fuck was she supposed to answer that?

Not so confidently, she pulled out a cliché line in order to save her. "We do our talking on the track." It was technically not a lie - what they did in their spare time was definitely not limited to talking.

"I see," the interviewer said, not satisfied with her answer.

"I'd love to chat, but my team is calling," he pointed somewhere off camera, somewhere where there definitely was not someone from her team pointing at her. She excused herself and strolled away, in the other way that Lando went, as quickly as possible.

Yes, she did. Oh god, it was becoming unbearable. How was he so infuriating? How can one manage to be so....ugh!!

The day passed by in a blur of meetings, interviews and fan meet and greets. Since their "joint" interview was live though, it took only few hours for the first edits to appear on social media, hashtags getting created and the two of them going viral once again. It was all a bit overwhelming, Y/N sat there and secretly watched every single edit she came by. There is one thing to fantasize secretly about your crush, another thing is when the whole seems to get on the same boat and romanticize the fuck out it. Was it making the whole thing more awkward? Probably, but Lando's and Y/N minds were too busy thinking about each other in order to take in the point of view of others. The whole grid became aware of the pair quickly becoming a meme.

Oscar limited himself to eye rolling only, as he was more than aware of what was going on.

Y/N was shocked to find Lando already sitting in with his and her team in one of the FIA's meeting rooms. The fact that this was happening outside of their team premise should have been a clear sign - they are being called into the same meeting. Nowhere to hide now.

Lando was sitting there, casually cramped up in a chair in an anatomically impossible position, legs twisted all around. "Can't he not sit like a normal person for once?" was Y/N first thought. The reason he sat like that was to prevent himself from foot tapping the whole building down. Acting cool and innocent, that was his strategy. He was sure they'll tell him to tone it down, not to bother Y/N publicly, he'll just nod at everything they say and then go finally cum all over her chest once again, just to prove to her that she is his. Not a hard task. He glanced at her innocently as she stepped in, doing a real bad job at hiding her shock. He rolled his eyes and smirked. This girl was so innocently cute. His own comms team shot him a warning look, so he just proceeded to stare into the ground. Y/n had very little time to get her strategy ready, cursing herself for not discussing this with Lando prior to this.

"Thank you both for coming on such a short notice," was how Lando's team opened the conversation with. You could cut the tension in the room with a butter knife.

"As you're both aware, we have tried several strategies in the past in order to get your image out in the best light as possible."

Y/N let out a laugh which she could not contain in, to which Lando shot her a surprised, horrified and slightly amused look. Unbelievable.

"Continue, please. I am listening," he said, just to spite her.

"Thank you. Please guys, let's keep this civil and adult," this time her team stepped in to put her down. Lando could not remember having this much fun.

"To continue what my colleague started to say, lots of several approaches which did not bring the ideal results. And with today's development, we feel like this is another time for us to step in. You're both faces of prestigious brands and the teams rely on you being likable characters. Am I right?"

Lando nodded, as if he was lying about understanding a new topic in a math lesson - maybe little too much. Y/N just bit her lip and remained silent.

This whole thing was so bizarre, like being caught for stealing a candy bar while having a stolen gold necklace in your pocket.

"What would you suggest?" Lando asked and Y/N doubted anyone in the room was fooled by his act and must have seen though him. He was obviously having the time of his life. At this rate she would have a hole in her lower lip if she would keep biting it down this was.

"I'm glad you're asking, Lando, and hope you'll be able to cooperate."

"You can count on my sincere involvement in your strategy," he stated seriously and stared at Y/N comms team. His own team knew what was up with his attitude but decided not to call him out just yet.

Y/N glanced at the papers resembling a contact on the table. This is it, she thought, the no contact and no involvement agreement. They're going to stop them from talking to each other in public? Is that even allowed?

His's comms manager took a deep breath. "The numbers on all our socials have spiked up greatly since your interaction became of a positive nature. What we've seen today - that will make our sponsors more than happy."

Lando was quicker than Y/N to connect the dots. His mood changed drastically within seconds and he finally sat up straight.

"No. Not a chance," he burned his team with his hard stare.

"Lando, please, let us finish."

He was not having that. "I know what you're going to say and no, you can't just order us to do that."

"Nobody is ordering you to do anything. We're simply...Putting this on the table.

"Forget that, no way in hell am I ever going to agree with this," he said, pointing at the contracts lying on the table. The room went silent for few seconds.

"I'm sorry, what are we talking about here?" asked Y/N, not really having the dots connected just yet. Lando briefly forgot that she was in the room, suddenly regretting his quick dismissal. But he was not the one to be forced into anything like this. Better him having it break to her then them, right?

This time he was the one to take a deep breath and while speaking to Y/N, he still stared at the comms teams. "They want us to start fake dating for PR." He was hoping he got it wrong. But the silence on the other side of the table just proved him right.

This came as a shock to her. Was this their masterplan? Did they really have to meddle all the fucking time? "I...I didn't think these things actually happened in real world," she stated, honestly.

Why couldn't these two just get a minute to talk among themselves? Y/N's mind was once again stuck in a rut because of Lando Norris existing at the same time as she did. Million questions on her mind, but the biggest one - why was it such a hard and obvious no from him? He did not even consider it. This could have been an easy escape for them.

"What would that look like exactly?" she asked, wrapping her head around it.

She received smiles from the team, them being happy that she was seemingly somewhat on board. "Well, we would set a clear timeline with a deadline and a scheduled break up, set up a social media strategy, you'd accompany each other on social event and the PDA would be very clearly stated upon the mutual agreement between you and your lawyers. Involvement of other people around you would always be discussed prior and clear communication is key. We do not want to make anyone feel uncomfortable. Of course, an NDA is part of this agreement."

It was impossible to look at him just yet. Her head was spinning. She was on the verge of crying and had to somehow hold herself together in front of all those people. She had to get out fast, like fast fast. She had her answer. He did not like her in the same way she liked him.

"Excuse me for a moment, I feel sick," she said and swiftly got up, nearly tripping over her own feet as she sprinted out.

part 11

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@scopeiguess @leclercsluv @sulliamour @starmanv @riverxsq @eviethetheatrefreak @chonkybonky @bicchaan @saachiep81 @chezmardybum

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babiebom · 10 months

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Hey brother, I am humbly requesting a SDV Sam (or Alex) fic about the harvest festival & the fortune teller. I just think it’s a cute idea to see what the fortune teller says to Sam before/after meeting the farmer

A/N: this is such a cute idea!! Since this is more of a one shot request I can do both on this post? Hopefully by the time you see this it isn’t too far into the future!! Hopefully you enjoy how I wrote this!! Sorry it took a little while!

Genre:oneshot, fluff, some angst.

Tw:mention of death, mention of depression/insecurities, cursing, 2 mentions of the war that goes on in the game.

Wc: 0.5k for Alex / 0.5k for Sam

Sdv Masterlist

Alex

Alex was never one to go visit the fortune teller. He simply doesn’t really believe in magic, or the ability to see the future. Sure, there was the weird wizard that lived near the forest, and the monsters that live in the caves, but those were just outliers and didn’t have anything to do with the general population. The first and only time he went to it as an adult, was with Haley. He hated his fortune then, it tore down all his dreams and put him into an even more insecure place than he was in before.

No mom, no dad, and aging grandparents and now the woman in the tent is telling him that his current girlfriend isn’t his soulmate or the one he will end up with, and they’re saying his gridball career won’t take off and he’s going to end up in Pelican Town for the rest of his life? Actual dogshit.

It’s his own fault that he asked in the first place, he thinks. Haley wasn’t too mad with her fortune, and she didn’t seemed all that torn up about the fortune teller saying they weren’t meant for each other. It just pissed him off even more. Did this mean they were going to break up? Should they? Did he even have to listen or believe the fortune teller? It was probably just bullshit anyways, a scam to get idiots to spend more money to find out their future because she scared them. He’s never doing the stupid fortune thing again!

“Let’s do the fortune teller!” Your eyes are shining so brightly with excitement that he can’t say no. Obviously he hates the damned scam, and he didn’t have to agree but he liked you too much to disagree with visiting the woman one last time.

You shove him inside first, already looking through your backpack for your coin bag. “You go first.”

He swallows and steps up to the woman, glaring at her openly. She makes no move to react to his obvious discontent, instead waiting for him to dish out money so she could say something else to crush his hopes and dreams. At least you’re in here with him to hear what actual bullshit this is…you’re kicked out of the tent while he’s getting his fortune read.

“Hmm…I see you in the town’s square…it looks like you’re receiving a mermaid pendant. Looks like someone wants to marry you!”

“Marriage? To who?” He hopes that it’s you. You weren’t really in a relationship right now, but he does hope that it’s you giving him that pendant.

“Hmm…you’re watching a gridball match with the other guys in town…looks fun! It seems like you’ve brought everyone together.”

“The crystal ball has moved on…I see you and the farmer. You’re laughing together on the beach, looks like you’re holding a ball. The way you’re going it looks like you two are quite close! Ah…the crystal ball has gone dim. That’s all I can do for you, young one.”

Stepping out of the tent, Alex somehow feels better. He’s going to get married at some point, and you and him are going to be on good terms for a while. Maybe the fortune teller isn’t totally uncool.

Sam

The fortune teller was one of the creepiest attractions of the fair to Sam by far. Magic was something that he thought was cool, inspiring even, but that doesn’t mean he wants anything to do with it. Him, Abigail, and Sebastian get their fortunes read every single year, paying attention to whatever has changed, what has and hasn’t come true. It’s fun and sometimes a little scary when things turn out how the fortune teller said it would.

Abigail liked it the most out of the three. The year before he meets you is the first time in a while that his fortune had changed. The woman had said specifically that “someone was coming to the valley that would bring the budding success of his music.” All he really heard then was that his music career was going to take off at some point, and that’s all he really needed to keep working towards his goal.

You hold his arm tightly as you walk around the fair along with Abigail and Sebastian. It’s your first fair since you’ve come to Pelican Town, and Sam is all too willing to show you around. Besides, Pierre was probably going to win the stupid competition, again, and he wanted to be able to support you closely. Not because he has a crush or anything (he does), he’s just a good friend! “We should show the Farmer the fortune teller! See if they get a good one or not!”

This starts your groups trip to the tent. You seem a bit anxious about getting your fortune read, so like the good friend Sam is, he offers to go first and tell everyone his fortune to show you it isn’t so bad.

The woman smiles at him as he enters, and he immediately returns her positive energy. She always said good thing(except when she predicted his father was going to be deployed because of the war) so he liked her. He paid her quickly and watched as the crystal ball begins to glow.

“I see you performing on a small stage, the person who is going to support your music career is front and center. They are going to be the reason that you are performing so passionately. They buy some of your cd’s to help support you.”

He wonders for a second if that’s you. He had been feeling a little more inspired since you came around, and you never hesitated to praise him and his music when you get a chance to listen to him play in his room. “Hmm…I see you in a big house, something is playing on the television. The children seem excited about whatever is playing, so do you and the farmer. They’re smiling so brightly at you, don’t let them lose that light.”

It absolutely has to be you. He wonders what you’re so happy about, and who the kids are. Are they your kids? Maybe his mind is going too far, especially since a relationship wasn’t mentioned.

“The crystal ball is shifting…your father returns from war. He is safe, and unharmed…but he is not the same as he was. It seems that he is unhappy…oh…”

The crystal ball grows dim, maybe the last bit wasn’t totally good, but the rest of it was. He gets to perform, and you’re there cheering him on. His heart thumps as he exits the tent and meets your eyes. The way you’re looking at him is so bright. He feels excitement full his body, he has so much to look forward to.

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beenbaanbuun · 15 days

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Hi hi! I hope life is treating you well and you’re drinking lots of water and resting well!

I would love to hear your thoughts on dragon!San the brainrot for him has been real lately 😭💖

so this actually changed the chemical infrastructure of my brain and i couldn’t decide how to write it so i hope this is okay 😭😭

——————————————————————————

so ask anyone who i speak to on a regular basis and this is all i’ve been able to talk about for days because i have so many ideas for it

arguably too many for me to even begin to think about structuring them in a way that makes sense…

but hey, we can try right?

so initially my first thought was ‘omg, i’m going to make this little guy so sad…’ and i will! but i promise it will make sense

so san is a people person—or dragon, i guess—right? sure, he’s a little shy but at the end of the day, you can tell he loves being around people

all throughout his childhood he wanted nothing more than to work with kids, maybe be a teacher or something! he’s good at helping people, right?

it just sucks for the poor guy that as he got older, he started to get bigger, his nails started to grow into something akin to talons, and his canine teeth became sharp and menacing

there’s a reason you never really see any dragon-hybrid teachers…

the day san got kicked off of his teacher-training course was probably the saddest day of his life, but at least he had you at home! the most precious jewel in all of his hoard…

honestly, san would love nothing more than to keep you bundled up in his den, wrapped in all six of his limbs—are wings limbs?—to keep you protected from the outside world

realistically, though, he’s all too aware of a humans needs to keep you indoors

you’re like a houseplant with the way you need sun to survive

he also knows that you need to work, since it’s borderline impossible for him to get a job

he’s too scary to work with people, too drawn to shiny things to work with money and too underqualified to work a 9-5

he always feels guilty that you’re the main breadwinner for the household, but he doesn’t mind being a house-husband all that much

he’s more than content taking care of his hoard, after all, and since you are his most prized possession…

speaking of his hoard, it’s kind of littered about the apartment, although most of it is in your bedroom

necklaces and jewels hang from the living room’s light, making it look closer to a chandelier than a regular lampshade

gold and silver appliances are his favourite making the kitchen look somewhat gaudy in comparison to what it originally looked like

as for your bedroom, it looks rather similar to howl’s…

in fact san was almost giddy when you first showed him howl’s moving castle, pointing at the screen with a wicked grin on his face

“see! its not just me who likes to decorate like this!”

you don’t have the heart to tell him that howls moving castle is just make believe and no one decorates like him…

but you suppose it’s not so bad; san dusts it from time to time and the things that dangle from the ceiling are perfect for you to zone out and stare at whenever san is rushing around looking for something to clean you up with after fucking you dumb :)

because let’s be real, dragon!san definitely has a huge cock to match the rest of his body

and despite his sweet demeanour outside of the bedroom, he’s an absolute demon inside of it

he’s possessive, more than anything, so if you ever come home smelling of anything other than him, then you best believe you’re being whisked away to the bedroom the second you step food through the front door

hands will be on you before you even know it, talons tearing at clothes and stripping you naked before you even get chance to tell him that this shirt is far too expensive to tear

you don’t even get much chance to protest after he’s torn it from you either because his lips will be on yours and his forked tongue will already be lapping at the inside of your mouth like his life depends on it

everything happens so quick because he’s just so desperate to make sure you know that you’re his again

he needs each one of your senses to be filled by him, he needs your mind to only think of him, he needs your pussy to be dripping with him

he knows he doesn’t own you but he needs to feel like he does

when he’s like this, it’s always quick. he needs to fuck you hard and fast before that strange smell that doesn’t belong to him sinks into your skin and stays there forever!

it’s purely instinct driven, really…

and maybe later he’ll take you for round two, only this time he wants to actually savour you

now you smell like him again, he can relax as he forces his cock inside of you

he can take his time kissing you and making you feel like the most beautiful person alive

he can let his hands trace every inch of your body, appreciating every dip and curve you have

and once it’s over, he can sit there with his cock still plugging you up and appreciate your blissed out face as you recover from what can only be described as a heavenly experience

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #ateez fic #ateez smut #san x reader #san smut

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stay-dazed · 1 month

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stray kids react to: a horror movie

notes: female reader. i suppose there's slight angst due to scary movie scenes and fear reactions?

chan: you adore horror movies. you can think back on your childhood, the movies you watched with your parents every saturday, like a fun family tradition. and with chan in your life, you’re eager to share it with him. you had actually mentioned it in passing before, when you guys were still just friends, but it never came up again. so you decide to bring it up tonight (a saturday, of course), at chan’s dorm room.

after kicking off your shoes and getting settled on his uncomfortably firm bed, you ask him,” hey channie? i was just wondering, would you like to start watching scary movies with me every saturday? like how my family used to.”

chan stops midway through tossing aside his own shoes, his hands stiff under the influence of his wrist braces. he looks over his shoulder at you, his mind obviously working overtime to process what you asked him. “really?”

“of course, i’d love for you to! is that alright?”

“no, yeah, that’s fine!” he finishes tossing his shoes aside and runs his fingers through his curls,” just keep in mind baby, i’m not exactly good with scary stuff..”

oh.. you suppose that’s true. you’ve certainly seen the stray kids’ escape room videos enough times. but no matter!

“it’s okay, channie! we won’t watch anything intense, i promise.”

so you both get under the covers and chan pulls up his laptop. you both settle on the original friday the 13th movie. this was actually one of your dad’s favorites growing up, so you’re happy to see it again. chan.. well, he puts on a brave face. no screaming, no flinching, nothing. but inside, the practical effects are shaving off a couple years of his life. even though it is kinda fun.

“this is your version of not intense? well yeah, it is good.. just- let me hold your arm.”

minho: minho has never been one to scare easily. sure he might flinch if someone were to scream at him out of nowhere, but as a general rule nothing really scares or startles him. so of course he’s your partner in crime when it comes to getting your horror fix. strolling through cliche “haunted” corn mazes, attending all-day horror conventions, daring one another to buy weird and almost certainly cursed little tidbits from an antique store, you name it.

today though, it’s just a horror movie.

you find it on a streaming service, and while you’ve never heard of it before, judging by the description it seems like a pretty good psychological horror. of course minho immediately points out the cover art as stupid (and he may be right) but hey, at least it has a 4.3 star rating.

minho takes a moment to run to the kitchen and make some popcorn. once it’s all popped and poured into a large, stained bowl that’s been used for many a movie date, he makes sure to add his special ingredient: golden syrup. just something to give it some sweetness. others may find it to be a gross food combination, but after he introduced it to you, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

when he comes back to the living room, popcorn bowl in hand, he sees the cozy nest of blankets and pillows that you put together on the couch. his lips twitch into a tiny smile and he carefully places himself next to you in the nest, close enough that his thigh presses comfortingly against yours. snuggled against minho’s side, you press play on the movie, and the popcorn disappears within the first five minutes or so.

the movie’s pretty good, especially at the psychological aspect. but the few attempts at jumpscares are a little pathetic to say the least. minho gets a good scoff out of them. by the time the credits roll, you’re both discussing what you think the film was trying to portray to the audience. neither of you have the intention of leaving the nest anytime soon.

“no y/n, it’s obvious it’s about how the ignorance of tourism leads to the decline of culturally important areas. they just needed a weird little scarecrow to get the point across.”

changbin: changbin doesn’t mind watching scary things with you occasionally, but he’ll be screaming the entire time. he’s naturally a loud and excitable person anyway, but add elements of plagues or zombies and there’s a chance you’ll be getting another noise complaint from the lady in the apartment below you.

but it’s fun either way. so here you are tonight, watching the wailing with changbin, with plagues and zombies and all that good stuff.

you both had a good day today. you slept in for a good portion of the morning while changbin was at the studio before heading to the gym together later in the evening (all you really did were some stretches while you watched changbin do the harder workouts), went out to a good restaurant afterward, and came back to the dorm to watch a movie or two together. unfortunately for changbin, the first movie you pick just so happens to be one he finds terrifying. but you’ve never seen it before and you’re pretty curious.

you curl up against your boyfriend on the couch, nice and cozy with a warm drink in hand, but to your eardrums’ demise. at each minor jumpscare or suspenseful moment changbin screams as loud as his lungs allow him to, and eventually you end up having to move across the couch from him in order to protect your ears. the movie ends in a flurry of confusion as you understandably had a harder time than usual paying attention.

“what do you mean your ears are ringing? i wasn’t that bad! you’re the one who's being dramatic, jagiya.”

hyunjin: hyunjin is a fairly dramatic person, as you’ve always known, and a lot of his emotion comes out in artistic expression. therefore, you enjoy combining both of your passions by watching what are considered artistic horror movies. granted, those kinds of movies tend to be the most twisted ones of all, but at least it’s something you two can pause and talk about for a while together. you’ve searched around online recently to find an artistic horror movie you haven’t yet seen together, and eventually you found one.

so here you and hyunjin sit, comfy on your bed. hyunjin just got done with schedules and wanted to spend the rest of the night relaxing with you, watching some horribly messed up movie while snacking on candy he picked up from the convenience store on his way over. both of you have your gaze locked on the tv screen ahead as you lean against hyunjin’s chest, munching on the candies he puts to your lips now and again. his left hand remains less busy, resting on your waist and rubbing little comforting circles against the fabric of your pajama shirt with his thumb. by now he does this out of habit, not even realizing his thumb is moving.

luckily the movie doesn’t seem to have any jumpscares (your ears are spared from your boyfriend’s shrieks this time) but the increasingly unsettling, haunting vibes emanating from it are enough to have him watching through his fingers eventually, his arm no longer wrapped around you. the body horror doesn’t seem to help much.

you look up at hyunjin at one point, seeing his wide, shiny eyes watching the tv intently despite the obvious fear he has. you can’t help but giggle. not because you find his fear funny, but because he’s just so cute. you opt to wrap your arms around him instead, keeping your big baby safe in your embrace. he gratefully accepts and slides down in the bed a bit so he fits better against your chest.

unlike usual, you guys didn’t pause the movie during the entire two and a half hour runtime. but to be fair your arms were a bit full. once the credits begin to run, hyunjin quickly sits up in your arms and smooths his hair down, trying to appear put together.

"it wasn't even that bad. why are you laughing??"

jisung: one of the first things you and jisung bonded over was the fact both of you struggle with anxiety to some extent. the vulnerability you were able to share with each other was such a relief, and ultimately led to the relationship you two now share together. but despite the fact you and jisung get easily startled - jisung more so than you - you both are champs when it comes to all things horror.

jisung may jump into the stratosphere when he hears a balloon pop, but he talks excitedly every time you two watch a horror movie. the more gorey and psychologically damaging, the better. today, on jisung’s rare day off, it just makes sense to start a horror movie marathon at 10 in the morning. so here you two sit on your couch, deciding on which of the lined up movies to watch first.

ultimately, you two settle on the mist. it’s not a particularly intense horror movie, but it is one of your favorites as ‘creature feature’ is your favorite subgenre of horror. you can fondly think back on your childhood, watching the movie first with your mother. eventually it became your comfort movie, playing it in the background while doing things around the house. jisung hasn’t seen it before, at least not that he can remember, so he looks forward to seeing what about the movie you enjoy so much.

in fact, he’s so excited he talks throughout the movie, pointing out the little things he notices or things he finds the most fun. you don’t mind it, of course. you add to the conversation, smiling at jisung in entertainment. when you think about it, it really is entertaining that the man who will throw himself to the floor at the sound of a balloon popping can watch a man get chomped on by a pterobuzzard so easily. you chuckle, and can’t help but lean over and plant a kiss on jisung’s cheek.

"wh- what was that for? i'm cute? but i didn't even do anything?"

felix: you’ve always indulged in your horror fixes on your own time, just because it was more fun and convenient that way. and, on top of that, anything horror related isn’t exactly your boyfriend’s strong suit. but maybe tonight will be different!

you’re scrolling on your streaming service, looking for anything you haven’t seen at least 5 times already, when you come across the perfect one in the new releases. it’s one you haven’t seen since you were in your teens, when you and your siblings enjoyed watching it together and poking fun at the characters. it’s nothing too scary, honestly. so you call felix from his room to the living room.

he waddles up to you, his large pajama shirt bunched up slightly at his waist and his house slippers squeaking on the floor and his hair sticking up at odd ends. you smile at him, your heart warm looking at your adorable boyfriend.

“hi baby. were you napping?”

“mm-mm.”

“okay. would you like to watch a movie with me then?”

“ooh, okay!” he hurries to your side, snuggling up next to you and pulling the couch blanket over both of your laps. “what movie are we watching?”

“it’s called the strangers.”

one look at the movie’s cover art, at the three masked figures, and felix feels his body tense a bit. you quickly hop in,” it’s okay lixie! it’s really more of a thriller or suspense movie than a horror one.”

he nods slowly,“ okay..”

45 minutes in and felix is peeking from behind a couch pillow, jumping at the smallest sounds or view of the strangers. occasionally, he also lets out little surprised squeaks. he presses even closer against your side, threatening to crawl right on top of you.

you pout at the sight. your poor baby. you wrap your arms securely around his small frame, letting him ditch the pillow and hide his face in your neck. it tickles but it’s okay.

“hey sunshine, would you like to watch something else?” you feel him nod against your neck.

"can we watch pponyo..?" pponyo it is.

after a little while, felix settles back down, his shoulders slowly loosening after being so tense. although he still refuses to let go of you.

"it's okay, baby, i know you didn't mean to scare me. you might have to go to the bathroom with me tonight though."

seungmin: you love when horror movies affect you, particularly in a psychological sense. when horror movies make your heart speed up in your chest, and you need to hyperfocus on every potential detail or threat. but most of all, you love when horror movies are just absolutely out-of-this-world stupid; bonus points if they were produced in the 50’s-80’s.

so that’s what you and seungmin watch together most of all; old b-grade horror movies that the two of you can laugh at and make fun of together. last week it was the blob, and this week it’s killer klowns from outer space.

you lean your back against the arm of the couch and lay your legs across seungmin’s lap, where he absentmindedly pats or rubs them with his red-stained fingertips, sometimes giving your feet a tickle to bother you. seungmin’s shiny eyes are focused on the tv screen, an empty hot cheetos bag set beside him.

seungmin is the first to poke fun at the clown that captures people by distracting them with shadow puppets. “imagine being over the age of 6 and being lured in by shadow puppetry.”

you respond,” to be fair, if i saw someone make a hyper-realistic dinosaur shadow with their hands, i’d also be pretty impressed.”

“and that’s why you’d die first in the alien clown apocalypse.”

you give him an unamused glance, to which he just smiles back, in all his puppy-like charm. you roll your eyes and turn back to the tv screen, but can’t quite help the little smile from creeping up on your face as well.

“you’re an idiot, kim seungmin.”

the jokes and taunting continue throughout the duration of the movie. mostly towards the painfully 80’s characters, but occasionally towards one another. you really hadn’t planned on getting into such a debate about who would survive in the unlikely scenario that clowns from another planet would come to earth and start cotton candy-ifying the human race.

“obviously i’d just eat through the cotton candy like a sane person. look if you meet your demise to fluffy sugar, that’s between you and god.”

jeongin: if there’s one thing about your boyfriend, it’s that he doesn’t get scared or grossed-out easily. unlike you, who loves horror movies with a bit of gore in them just as much as the next person, but you can’t help cringing at it every single time. sometimes, depending on which part of the body is being injured, you have to just hide your face completely.

like right now, as you hide your face in jeongin’s shoulder, listening to the sounds of the train stewardess get her throat chomped on by a zombie.

jeongin just wanted to relax after a strenuous schedule today, surrounded by the comfort that you bring. you were happy to oblige, and you were excited to see which horror movie he’d pick out this time (you picked last time). and for the second time within the past month or so, he chose train to busan.

you love the movie, of course, but the first couple rampage scenes can be a bit much for you. so you snuggle even closer to jeongin, almost as if you were attempting to crawl into his skin for safety.

he can’t help but chuckle at you, which you can feel rumble through his arm. it’s just because you’re acting all cute. and it’s a little bit funny.

“it’s over. you can look now, babe.” he says, nudging you with the arm that you’re holding onto to get your attention.

you peek back out and continue watching the chaos unfold on the screen, as if nothing happened. with your head still on jeongin’s shoulder, you find yourself surrounded by his comforting aura as well, the smell of the body wash you bought for him a nice familiarity. the movie continues without much eventfulness. jisung walks into the kitchen very loudly at one point, and jeongin has to use the bathroom midway through.

but now, it’s reached the end of the movie. and if there’s one thing about your boyfriend… it’s that he’s not a man afraid to cry.

so here you both sit, wrapped up in each other’s arms under a blanket on the couch, crying as the end scenes play.

“god this movie sucks.” you sniffle.

“i know. it’s great, isn’t it?”

90 notes · View notes

gay-wh0re-slut · 11 months

Text

God Sent

rhea x fem!reader

content: literally just smut, jealous dom!rhea smut with fingering, strap, spitting probably, definitely some degradation and praise, squirting, multiple orgasms with aftercare too hehe but i need it so i’m writing it

You and Rhea had been invited to a goth themed party at a friend’s house. It was easy for Rhea to find something to wear but your closet colors were the complete opposite of hers, so you asked to borrow something. Of course she complies because she loves when you wear her clothes, so you decide on a leather low cut top, a skort with a harness attached at one leg, some fishnets and a pair of her platforms. She wasn’t too comfortable with you wearing this knowing people would be staring all night but she wasn’t one to control how you look.

As soon as you arrive, friends began to hoot and holler at the two of you. You twirled around to show the outfit off with Rhea slapping your ass playfully to show the room that you were hers.

The party was going well, you had many conversations about many things with the friends including wrestling, backstories, and crazy imaginations with the people that were high instead of drunk. Of course you had a few drinks yourself so you were feeling a little tipsy. Rhea didn’t want to drink so that you were both safe going home.

You swayed your hips walking towards the australian on the other side of the room, “heyy baby,” you sling your arm around her waist.

She couldn’t help but notice the people staring at your ass that was barely peeking from under the skirt. She gently landed her hand on your lower back having it slide down to your ass, giving it a slight squeeze eying the people behind you; they immediately looked away. “It’s hard dating a hot girl,” she sighs.

“Mmm, why do you say that?” your words start to become a little slurred.

“Everyone looks at you all the time, you know how that makes me feel,” she grabs your almost empty cup and sniffs, “damn, what’s in that?”

You giggle, “Uhmmm I don’t know, Liv made it. It tastes like juice, so it’s dangerousss,” you boop her nose.

“Uh huh, that’s the last one for you then, love. We don’t want a repeat of last time,” she hands you back the cup.

“Aawwww okay,” you finish the last sip. You let go of her and sway your way to the kitchen for a trash can.

A guy you haven’t met sneaks towards you. He was pretty average looking, toned, and quite short but you could tell he was about to do something he shouldn’t: talk to you.

“Hey sweet cheeks, you here with someone?” he leaned on the counter.

You rolled your eyes, “Yes, her,” you point to Rhea who was already making her way towards you. She was moving slowly knowing that you could handle yourself until she needed to step in.

“Oooh big scary woman, what is she gonna do kick my ass?” he said sarcastically as he laughed.

“Yes, actually,” you couldn’t be more serious.

“Oh I’m sure,” he continued the sarcasm, “but, no seriously though, who are you here with?”

“No seriously bro, I’m with her,” you threw back at him.

“C’mon, baby,” he began to walk around the counter towards you as a strong alcohol smell followed him, “I could make you-”

“Make her what?” Rhea growled behind him.

You caught her eyes and smiled at her devilishly. You loved seeing her jealous, it turned you on more than any alcohol could.

He turned around and looked up at her, his head almost fully touching his back, “make her scream my name,” he said a little too confidently.

“I’m giving you three seconds to walk away before I beat your scrawny ass to a pulp,” she whispered.

People noticed the commotion, but immediately turned away knowing it would end one of two ways: him being knocked out, or him being thrown out.

“Or. What,” he whispered back. He was now standing on his toes and looked more ridiculous than ever.

You couldn’t help but laugh, “You better choose wisely, buddy,” you threw in.

“One,” Rhea huffed, her hands balling into fists.

He didn’t move.

“Two,” you could see her vision becoming red.

Stupidly, he still didn’t move.

“Three,” without hesitation she swiped his legs out from under him, landing on his stomach, she placed one knee on his neck and held his arms back, while twisting his whole body in a way it shouldn’t.

“Wrong choice,” you bent over him, smiling.

“Okay! Okay!” He strained to yell, “I’m sorry!”

“Now leave or I will beat your ass,” she forcefully let go of him.

He scrambled to get up, brushing off his shirt.

“Bye-bye,” you wave to him, as you give him a fake pout.

He quickly left as the crowd watched him leave laughing at him, “he should’ve known,” and “idiot” was heard from the partiers before they returned to their drinks and dancing.

“You okay?” Rhea asked.

“Perfect,” you walk towards her and move to whisper in her ear, “but if you don’t take me home right now and fuck me until I can’t walk, you will never see this ass again.”

And with that, she grabbed your wrist and dragged you to the car with you giggling behind her.

She basically sped home, luckily it was only about fifteen minutes away. The ride home was tough because you were already so uncomfortably turned on that you couldn’t help the squirming in your seat.

Finally, walking through the door, she slammed it behind you, “Bedroom. Now,” she commanded.

You were already on the way and you were basically sprinting. You cross the threshold and wait for your next command.

“Sit,” the tattooed hand pointed at the bed, closing the door as she entered.

You sit.

“Good girl,” she strides towards you then grabs your chin and tilts it up towards her, “you look so good tonight baby.”

“Thank you,” you smile.

“You always look so good in my clothes, huh?”

“Yes ma’am,” you squirm under her.

“Too bad you won’t be wearing them for much longer,” she lets go of your chin dragging her hand down to your tits then to the bottom of the shirt, “arms.”

You lift your arms and she pulls the shirt over your head and throws it to the side.

“Scoot back and lay down,” another command.

You do as you’re told keeping eye contact with her the whole time.

“How’d I get so lucky,” she climbs on the bed crawling on top of you, stopping halfway to leave a trail of kisses on your stomach, to your chest, to your neck, to your jaw.

Your hands were gliding up her muscular back and into her hair as she goes until she decided to grab your wrists and pin them down above your head. You huff at her.

“What,” she whispers in your ear, “my poor baby. All riled up for me and you can’t do anything about it. What a shame,” she coos.

“Please, baby,” you try to force your way out of her godly grip but to no avail.

“Uh uh,” she swiftly moved to grab the handcuffs from the side table and clasps them onto you wrapping the chain on one of the many metal rods coming from the headboard, “that’d be too easy.”

“Hmph,” you grump.

She chuckled at your attempt but continued her journey, leaving dark purple marks where only the two of you could see. You’re writhing under the muscular woman, begging for anything more to ease the pressure. Her hands were grazing your skin touching every inch of your torso, gently squeezing your tits as she went. When the hands found the waist band of the skirt, she carefully and painfully slowly, took it off of you, kissing down your thighs.

Once she threw the skirt to accompany the shirt, she took your boots off too. “Wait here,” and she started to walk to the bathroom.

“Like I can go anywhere,” you say under your breath.

She snapped her head around, “What?”

“Please hurry, baby,” you try to cover.

“That’s what I thought you said. Because if you said what you actually said,” she towered over you on the side of the bed and grabbed your face squeezing your mouth open, “it’s not going to be good for you.”

Your eyes were wide but you couldn’t speak.

“Are you gonna be a good girl?”

You nod your head frantically.

“Good,” she spit in your mouth and let go of your face, “now be the slut I know you are and swallow.”

You gulp it down and open your mouth displaying your tongue so she could see that you did.

“That’s my baby,” she patted you on the cheek and walked towards the bathroom.

You finally let go of the breath you didn’t know you were holding. A chill ran through your body as you lay there with nothing but fishnets and a thong.

A few minutes later the raven haired woman comes back wearing her sports bra and booty shorts with a strap.

You gasp at the sight, your heart was beating fast in two places. Your gaze flicks up and down her body, not being able to focus on one thing as she crawls back on the bed. Her hands glided up your legs to your thighs and forced them open.

Your back arched as the cool air hit your dripping center.

“You’ve already made such a mess and we haven’t even started,” her accent was thick and deep.

“It started before we left the party,” you admit.

“Oh?” the tattooed hand grazed your inner thigh, “who made you like this?”

You knew the answer she wanted to hear and you were more than happy to tell her, “You,” you gasp as her thumb barely touched your pulsing clit.

“Mmm,” she began to draw small gentle circles with her two middle fingers, “and what did I do, baby?” She already knew the answer, but she loved to hear you say it.

You could barely form words but you tried your best, “when you…were jealous and you…” your back arched as she added more pressure, “mmmmpinned him down… with your knee and… fuck,” her fingers danced on your entrance waiting to go in but was blocked by the lace. The fishnets wouldn’t be a problem though because they were the wide holed ones and she gave those to you for this very reason.

“You love when I get protective, huh baby?”

“Mhm,” your hips grinding for any possible friction.

“Good, because this,” she moved the lace to the side and easily pushed her fingers inside of you as she moved to be face to face with you, “is mine,” she growled.

You moan loudly as your back arched pushing your stomach into her. Her thighs were holding your legs apart, her hand was easily pumping in and out of you at a steady pace. Her other hand was planted near your shoulders, her baby blues staring into your soul. “That’s it…take it!”

You whined with every push gently bouncing on her hand as she quickened her pace. The sound of you against her hand sent you spiraling.

“God, you’re such a whore,” she pulled her fingers out of you causing a groan to fall out of you, “open,” she demanded.

You open your mouth and she slides her fingers in, letting you taste yourself, cleaning them off.

She pulls them out, “spit,” she ordered and she cupped her hand in front of you. You did as told, then she covered the strap. She readjusted herself, letting the tip barely graze your entrance that was now leaking onto the sheets. “D’you want Mami’s dick, beautiful?”

“Yes, god please,” you try to move yourself down onto it but was restrained by the cuffs.

“Such a desperate lil slut, pathetic,” but she slid it in anyway, guiding it and using your hips as a brace.

“Uugghh shit,” you moan as you take the full length. You felt it widen you, the pain was minuscule compared to the pleasure you felt.

She sat there a minute letting you get used to the size, watching you squirm under her, taking in every movement. Once she thought you were fine, she slowly moved her hips back and forth, pumping the dick in and out, in and out.

“Pleeease Mami, fuck me,” you whimper.

“Do you want me to fuck your brains out, princess?” she halted her movements.

You groan at the sudden stop lifting your head up to make eye contact, “do your worst,” you growl.

A devilish smirk grew on her face. In one swift motion she pushed your legs towards your chest folding you in half, and began to fuck you senseless. The bed was squeaking she was going so hard. You moaned loudly, and continuously as she wrecked you.

“FUCK,” you screamed, the pressure in your stomach was beginning to unfold, “Don’t…stop!”

“Never,” she barked.

Pretty quickly the pressure released as you screamed in pleasure with your eyes rolling back and your hands white knuckling at the rods above you. You breath left your body as it tensed. She quickly removed the silicone from you as you squirted all over the bed. “Holy fuck,” you breathe.

“Oh we’re not done yet, babygirl,” she released you from the cuffs, letting your arms go limp. She flipped you over so that now she was on her back with you on top of her.

You took the opportunity to land a sloppy kiss as you adjusted yourself to straddle her waist. Moaning into the kiss while trying to regain movement in your arms. She sits you back down onto the strap with ease, her hands smack onto your ass then guides your hips up and down to ride the dick.

“That’s it, baby,” her hair was sticking to her forehead from sweat but she couldn’t have looked any hotter, “if only that asshole could see us now, huh? You riding my dick, screaming for me, watching me make you cum over and over again.”

“Fuck…him,” you said between bounces. You sat up to fully ride her, leaning on your hands that were holding her thighs for stability. Your tits bouncing with every movement , so her hands gripped onto them holding them in place squeezing tightly.

“He’ll never know what it’s like to make a slut like you cum, right baby?” she continued.

“Never,” you forced out, “oh fuck.”

The knot quickly built up again inside you, “Mami, please let me-”

“Do it, show him who you belong to, baby.”

So you did and hard, “FUCK, RHEA,” you continued to ride out the orgasm, your legs quivering around her as you buckled over, shaking.

“Good girl,” she praised. You slumped off, lying next to her. “I know you have another one in you,” she sat up and rolled you over. She picked your hips up so you were face down in front of her, displaying everything. “You’re too much of a slut to not.”

She slapped your ass, leaving a handprint immediately causing a whimper to fall out of you. You heard her spit, not feeling it on you, so you assumed it was on the dick.

Your moans filled the room as she plunged into you, tears filled your eyes at the intense pleasure, “God YES… FUCK,” you screamed.

“C’mon baby, just one more. You’ve done so well for me,” her soft tone contrasted with how hard she was wrecking you.

It’s been probably thirty seconds and the pressure was already there. You sneaked a hand down to your clit for added pleasure, circling it lazily. Loud whines made music to the australian’s ears as she smiled wide at the sight of you unfolding beneath her. “Cum for me, baby,” she snarled.

You screamed immediately as the orgasm washed over you, squirting all over the dick once more. She kept pounding into you as long as possible until you let your hips fall sideways having the dick slip out of you.

“You did so well baby,” she crawled to your face and left soft kisses on your sweaty red face, “My lil whore.”

“Only for you,” you forced out as you tried to catch your breath.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” she took off the strap and dropped it with a thud. She scooped you up and carried you to the bathroom and set you down gently on the cool counter sending a shiver through you. She started the shower and let it get hot as she helped you peel off the tights and now destroyed thong. “C’mon baby,” as she helped you down and into the hot water.

#rhea ripley #wwe #rhea ripley x reader #literally just smut

389 notes · View notes

messysketchyobeyme · 1 year

Text

Can Demons Purr?

Satan/Gender-Neutral Reader

This fic is set in Nightbringer!

Summary:

“Can we do that?”

“Huh?”

Satan shook his head, seemingly too entranced by the kitty to formulate complete thoughts. “I mean, can demons purr?” He gazed at you, tilting his head slightly to the side. “I’ve only had a body for a year at this point, and I’m still learning about what it’s capable of.”

"...Let’s see for ourselves, shall we?”

Word Count: 2,200

---

Yet another fight had broken out between the brothers, and Lucifer had called you over to stop Beelzebub from destroying the kitchen…again. You had half the mind to tease Lucifer over the phone for relying so much on you when just a couple of months ago he all but said that he’d rather drop dead than have an attendant to babysit him and his brothers. However, Lucifer’s quiet, exhausted voice made you bite your tongue and head right over.

Although you were still miffed at being downgraded from family to class mediator in the blink of an eye, you began your trek to the House of Lamentation without one of your usual complaints. It was one of the few moments you could hang out with the brothers, even though most of that time was spent ensuring they didn’t get themselves into trouble.

…Now that you thought about it, maybe things weren’t so different, after all.

As you walked up the path toward the brothers’ home, you spotted Satan standing in the garden.

Wait.

You did a double take to confirm that, yep, Satan was there with his back facing toward you, his fists clenching and unclenching rapidly. His entire body was tense with his shoulders hunched over.

Huh. You had assumed that Satan was involved in the fight but apparently not. A small sliver of guilt washed over you, but you quickly dismissed it.

Glancing over at the House of Lamentation, you didn’t see a hole being struck through the wall or anything else out of the ordinary. You probably had a few minutes to see what was up with Satan before having to head inside and placate the rest of the brothers.

You cautiously stepped toward Satan. The grass crunched softly underneath your shoes. “Hey, Satan. What’s up?”

Satan’s breath hitched as he whipped his head around to face your direction. He visibly relaxed when he saw you making your way over. “I thought you were one of my brothers.” He turned back around to where he was facing before.

Should you have been offended by that? Either way, you noted that he didn’t answer your greeting or your question. “What are you looking at?” you asked.

You followed his line of sight to see a beautiful calico cat playfully swatting the plants that lined the base of the tree she was under. Splotches of black decorated the orange bits of her fur, which practically glowed under the moonlight. No wonder Satan was so enthralled.

“That cat over there.” Satan pointed, confirming what you had thought. “I’ve been trying to pet her all day, but she keeps running away from me. I hate it.” Satan kicked the dirt, uprooting some of the grass with it.

“Well, cats can be skittish creatures at times. If you’re not careful, you may end up scaring her.”

“I’m not scary!” Satan snapped.

You took a sharp breath and tensed up. Even the cat seemed to momentarily raise her head at his outburst. Satan’s furrowed eyebrows relaxed into a face that you couldn’t quite name. That happened a lot with Satan, you noticed. Whenever his enraged expression would melt away, it would always be replaced by something you didn’t have the emotional intelligence to understand. Was it regret, sorrow, or something else entirely?

“I never said you were,” you said softly. In any other circumstance, you would have given Satan a hug by now, but this wasn’t your Satan. This one was still hesitant about receiving physical affection and would often rebuke any attempts.

He looked away. “Asmo tried to teach me how to be more approachable to cats the other day, but I think he was just using it as an excuse to dress me up.”

“Was he now?” you said in amusement. You could tell that Asmodeus was trying his best to befriend Satan, even though his actions tended to be a little off the mark. “I can teach you, instead. I’m pretty sure I have more experience in dealing with cats.”

It was subtle, but Satan’s eyes lit up. “Would you?”

You nodded, smiling at him. “Yes, of course.” His wide-eyed expression was so cute that you had to physically stop yourself from pinching his cheek. “As I said before, cats tend to be kind of timid, so it’s important that you let them come to you rather than the other way around.”

Ah, if only you had some cat food on hand to draw her over here. You could try to get something from the fridge, but Beelzebub’s rampage probably meant that the kitchen was off-limits for now. You’d have to do without.

“Here, why don’t we sit down?” You almost grab his shoulders, intent on gently guiding him down, before stopping in your tracks.

Although you and Satan definitely had a more amicable relationship compared to when you first met, you still weren’t entirely sure if he was comfortable with you touching him just yet. Instead, you sat down and patted the grassy area next to you. Satan followed suit, sitting crossed-legged. His knee was barely touching yours.

“Like this?” he asked quietly.

You clapped your hands together. “Exactly like this. And now, we wait.”

“For how long?”

You shrugged. “For however long it takes for her to come over here.” The cat was now batting a couple of stray sticks that must have fallen off of the tree. “She seems to be naturally curious, so it shouldn’t take long.”

“Oh, okay,” Satan said. After a few seconds of him twiddling his thumbs, he asked, “Do cats have soft fur?”

“Most do,” you answered, “Though, it depends on how well groomed it is.”

“Her fur looks soft.”

“It does.”

Satan tapped his legs. “I hope I’ll get to feel it soon.”

You hoped so, too.

The cat was now chewing on the stick, her tail swishing behind her. She was much closer to the two of you than before, but she was still a long way away.

Satan hummed. He plucked at the grass surrounding his shoes. “I like it when she meows. It doesn’t happen often, but it’s cute.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah, I hope you’ll be able to hear it soon.”

Your heart quivered. That was a sweet sentiment. You became lost in thought as the crows chirped overhead. You missed Satan dearly, as you did with the rest of the brothers from the present, but this wasn’t so bad. You enjoyed seeing a different side to the brothers that you never thought you’d ever get to know.

You flinched when Satan slammed his hand on your knee. “She’s coming,” he whispered urgently.

Sure enough, the cat was casually strolling over in your direction. Her tail was curved upward into the shape of a question mark, and her green eyes darted around curiously. She came to you first, butting her head against your leg. You held your hand in front of her nose to give her some time to sniff you. When she did, you began to scratch behind her ears, quietly cooing at the way her ears twitched.

Satan was staring intently at the cat, who was leaning into your hand to get more pets. She was a greedy little thing, wasn’t she? You grinned. “What are you waiting for?” you whispered.

Satan absentmindedly squeezed your knee. You didn’t think he realized he was doing it. “I’m afraid I’ll scare her again,” he said. His voice was strained.

“May I?” you asked. Satan hesitantly nodded.

You gently lifted up his hand and guided him toward the cat. Satan bristled at your touch but soon relaxed when you, with your hand on top of his, showed him how to pet the cat along its back. She chirped happily, and you removed your hand, allowing Satan to stroke her fur on his own.

A tiny smile appeared on his face. It was so subtle that you probably wouldn’t have noticed if you weren’t looking directly at him. “It is soft,” Satan muttered in astonishment.

The cat flopped down on her back, revealing the white fur along her stomach. Satan drew his hand back, now unsure what to do now that his only petting spot was covered. He looked at you for guidance, and you jerked your head forward to silently say, “Go on.”

Satan wavered for a few seconds before copying what you had done before. He scratched the cat behind her ears, causing her to flick her head back. Satan’s face brightened up, and his eyes danced in excitement. His giddiness was palpable as you found yourself smiling, as well.

The cat closed her eyes and let out a tiny mewl. A low vibrating-like sound emanated from her as she cuddled up to Satan’s hand.

His mouth fell open. “What is that?” he asked incredulously.

Satan had to be careful about getting that innocent look in his eyes, or else you’d fall in love with him all over again.

“She’s purring,” you said, “It means she’s happy. She likes you.” You reached over and gave the cat a few good strokes along the top of her head.

His voice was breathy and quiet. “I like her, too,” he said, “Can other animals purr?”

You scratched your cheek. “Uh, I’m not actually sure. I think some wild cats can purr, too.”

“Can we do that?”

“Huh?”

You racked your brain to try to think of any moment when you had heard any of the demon brothers purr. Aside from any cat-spell-related mishaps, you didn’t recall a particular moment. If you had to pick, you guessed your Satan was the one who’d come closest to ‘purring.’ He’d often hum in contentment whenever you massaged his head or gave him a back scratch. But, did that count?

You were about to shake your head when you bit your lip and paused. What if demons could purr, and you’ve just never heard it before? Although that would be a low blow to your ego, you didn’t want to give Satan the wrong information. If he found out later on that demons could actually purr, that would put your integrity–and very identity–on the line.

As you were deliberating this little dilemma of yours, the cat sat up. Satam froze as she shook her body and sauntered off. Her tail waved in the air as she disappeared into the distance, off to go play with who knows what.

Satan winced and started anxiously massaging his hand. “Did I do something wrong?” He sounded uncharacteristically meek, which put you on edge.

“No, no, you didn’t,” you said, “She probably just had her fill of pets for now. We’ll probably see her again later today.”

“Oh. I hope we see her soon, then.”

You hummed, thinking that you were safe. “I do, too.”

Satan turned to face you. “As for my question?” His eyes were soft, yet curious.

Dang it.

Small beads of sweat prickled your back. “Yes, well, um, let’s see for ourselves, shall we?” You reached out toward him, your hand hovering just before his face.

Satan tensed, tightening his jaw. His pupils fluttered around, as though desperately searching for a hint of mockery in your expression. When he found none, his cheeks slowly reddened as if he just now understood what you were asking. The blush that threatened to engulf the entirety of his face complimented the color of his eye. It was cute. He was cute.

He looked down, squeezing his eyes shut in what you hoped wasn’t shame. Then, gradually, he nodded, finally granting you the permission you were waiting for.

You tenderly grasped the underside of his jaw and gently scratched the area leading to his ear. You had expected him to stiffen up immediately, but you found him unwinding himself under your touch.

Satan was trying to fight the feeling, judging by the way his eyebrows had stitched together, but, soon enough, he gave up. Satan leaned into the palm of your hand, and a soft sigh accidentally escaped his lips. A wobbly, lopsided grin stretched onto his face when you started caressing him behind the ear.

However, he didn’t purr. You withdrew your hand. “I guess that settles it, demons can’t–”

Satan gripped your wrist so tightly that you jumped. “Please,” he muttered, a hint of desperation on the edge of his voice, “Don’t stop.” Satan’s hand was trembling as he placed your hand back to where it was before. With a vague sense of curiosity, you noted that his eyes were wet.

…Well, he had asked so nicely. How could you possibly have refused? You were certain that Lucifer could handle things on his own. Besides, as a certified demon attendant, it was your responsibility to ensure the happiness of all of the brothers. You went right back to petting the side of Satan’s face, delighting in the way he melted under your fingertips.

#Obey Me #Obey Me Nightbringer #Obey Me Satan #Obey Me MC #Satan x Reader #fanfic #My first fic written entirely in nightbringer #woo #Lucifer probably strangled MC after this lol

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charliemwrites · 10 months

Note

Can we pretty please get little drabbles on the first kiss moments between the keepers and their pets??

Hey bean!!! That’s super cute!! Let’s see if I can make this not completely awkward 😬

Feral-

You’re wrestling with Simon in the living room. He’s always so careful with you, even when you toss yourself at him full force. It used to scare you how easily he can handle you - but lately it’s just been fun.

He never fusses that you’re too rough, too excited. Just lets you maul him and gently bats you around to keep it fun, pretending that he’s going to pin you just for you to miraculously wiggle out at the last second to continue attacking.

Today he goes down with a dramatic oof and you land on his chest, laughing because he went too easy and nearly sent you over with the momentum. And when you open your eyes to stick your tongue out and declare victory, he’s giving you that look again. That ridiculous, love-sick, half lidded, melted caramel look that you’ve slowly but thoroughly come to believe is authentic.

Not sure what comes over you, but the gentle smile curving his mouth is just too tempting this time. You dip down and kiss him - once, quick. Like he’s going to realize what you’re doing and push you away and this is your only chance.

When you pull away, he’s staring at you with stars in his eyes and you could absolutely strangle him for it.

“Shut up,” you snap instantly.

“I didn’t say anything,” he coos.

You thump in the chest. “I’ll kick your ass again.”

“You’re welcome to if that’s what I get in the end.”

“Shut up.” And you lean down to do it again - to be sure he shuts up.

—

Shy Thing-

Movie nights have become something of a tradition. Once a week, you and him pick movies with a theme back and forth until one of you knocks out for the evening. Usually it’s you - but once or twice he’s seen a movie so much that it lulls him to sleep.

You’ve even started scooting closer. It’s easier to share snacks that way, that’s all!! Tonight the theme is whodunnits. You started with a strong opening of Clue, which Johnny laughed he hadn’t seen in forever. His choice was Scream, which you admit is a great classic, even if it spooks you.

It’s been long enough that you don’t remember all the jump scares, which has resulted in you nearly climbing in his lap at this point. Of course he’s having a great time, teasing that the next theme should be “scariest movies ever made”. As the credits finally roll, and he chuckles that your heart is still racing, you frown up at him.

“You’re being mean,” you huff, trying not to sound whiny even though you know it’s a lost cause.

He hums and tilts his head, eyes sparkling with warmth.

“I’m sorry, bonnie. I’ll pick something less scary next.”

It’s sweet and you know he means it. Even when he’s pushy and a little rude, he’s gotten so much better about minding your boundaries and feelings.

And well… it’s just more than you ever expected. Ever dared to hope for.

You tilt your head and press a slow, soft kiss to the center of his mouth. Perfectly chaste, but tender and sincere.

“I’m having a really good time, Johnny,” you whisper against his mouth.

“Let me kiss you again and you’ll have an even better time.”

—

Good Girl-

You’ve been in a weird mood all day. Not… bad. But John will be going away on a mission that he admitted will be dangerous. That he might not be back when he said he would, but that it doesn’t necessarily mean something is wrong. Still, you’re nervous. You know he has a demanding and dangerous job at baseline, so for him to make a point of saying this trip is going to be especially perilous….

You’ve been trying to get the anxiety out by helping. Granted, from his fondly exasperated expression, you’ve been being more of a nuisance than anything. Still, he’s humoring you. Letting you triple check that he has his things packed - clothes, MREs, med kit…

When you’re not “helping” with packing, you’re fussing around the house. Almost burning food, leaving the sink running, deciding that the bookshelf needs rearranging again…

John finally snags you as you’re babbling about laundry. Just plucks you right up from the tread you’re pacing in the living room rug and plops you on his lap. You start to fuss - about there being so many chores to do, that he needs more socks; and does he have his hat…?

You cut off with a startled noise his mouth slots over yours, deceptively soft. It’s the first time he’s kissed you like this. It takes a moment for your brain to process - and then you’re pressing closer, leaning into him. His hand spans along your jaw and guides you how he wants you, tongue tracing your bottom lip.

“Atta girl,” he murmurs when you sigh and melt. “It’s time to settle. I want to spend some time together before I leave.”

You hum. “M’kay. Can… we do more of that?”

He chuckles. “Yeah, love, c’mere.”

#asks #thoughts™️#cod #my writing #keeper/kept au #fanfiction #keeper ghost #kept pet ghost #reader fic #keeper johnny #keeper price

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tangledinink · 1 year

Text

Chapter Twelve of I'm Sorry, Teenage Mutant What Now? is up!!! It's the moment you've all waited for-- the reveal. :000 They boys discover some things about themselves (things they once knew) and visit an unfamiliar place (a place that was once familiar.) Read it on ao3 or below the cut!

[ prev ]

The group’s shocked silence lasted for two, maybe three seconds before it quickly morphed into chaos.

“That’s him! That’s the goat!” Mikey shrieked, pointing wildly. “That’s the goat who has Dad!”

“Leo! Call 911!” Raph commanded. Leo scoffed loudly.

“No way! I wanna kick this guy’s ass. Make Donnie do it.”

“What?! No fair! I’ve called 911 the last six times! It’s someone else’s turn!”

“You have not! I called 911 last time!” April protested.

“That one doesn’t count!”

“Well someone’s gotta--”

“Enough!” Goatman snarled, absolutely bristling, waving his arm sharply. The air around them suddenly felt colder and stiller, and Leo shuddered, gritting his teeth as his posture stiffened. “I am not here to listen to your silly arguments. I am here to bring you home, so you can finally fulfill your purpose.”

Leo gave a short snort of laughter. “Hm, yeah, tempting, but our Daddy actually taught us not to go with creepy sheep strangers, even if they offer us free candy, soooo…”

“What?! Candy? No! I’m talking about your purpose! The reason you were created-- to eliminate the human threat! Come with me, and I can unlock your full potential!”

“How many divine purposes have we got again? ‘Cause I’m starting to lose track,” Mikey complained. Leo rolled his eyes.

“Eliminate the human threat? Yeah, uh, maybe you haven't been paying attention, but in case you haven’t noticed, we’re literally humans.”

The yokai paused for a moment. His face twisted, and he hunched his shoulders back before he gave a forced laugh. “Humans?” He echoed. “Humans?! Surely you aren’t fooled by those silly trinkets! You can’t possibly, actually believe…”

“Oh my god. This guy is, like, for real crazy,” April observed, raising her brows.

“No, you are fools!” He hissed in return. “Humans?! These ridiculous forms are completely fabricated! These are not your true selves! You are experiments! You are soldiers! You’re mutated turtles-- my greatest creations! The creations of Baron Draxum!”

“Baron Draxum? Okay, well, we’ll deal with him when he gets here… Oh… Oh-ho-ho wait! You’re doing that, like, sinister talking-about-yourself-in-third person thing, aren’t you! Oh my god, that’s rich!” Leo snorted.

“Hey! Only Raph can use the third-person!”

“I’m sorry, did he say turtles?” Mikey questioned.

“Oh my fucking god…” Leo laughed, clutching his stomach. “Turtles? I’m sorry, we’re mutant turtles?”

“This guy can’t be serious,” Raph muttered.

“Uh, yeah, I’m pretty sure we would have noticed by now if we were reptiles,” Donnie scoffed, one hand on his hip. “Let alone subjects of some kind of biochemical experiments. Which I am intimately familiar with, by the way. Do you have any idea how many community gardens I’ve been banned from?”

“This can’t…” The yokai shook his head, a hand on his brow. “How could you be tricked by such simple magic? I will show you if I have to.”

“Oh, I’d love to see that,” Donnie muttered.

“Come with me--”

“You are out of your damn mind if you think we’re goin’ anywhere with you!” Raph cut in.

“Maybe if you prove that turtle hypothesis thing you have going on, we can discuss it from there,” Donnie laughed, one brow quirked, sounding caught somewhere between exasperated and amused. Honestly, this whole thing was a little bit fucking hilarious. It was also fucking horrible and scary because their dad was missing and a magic criminal had them cornered in an alley, but like. Seriously. Mutant turtles? You can’t make this stuff up, dude.

Draxum sighed very deeply, scowling at their group.

“Very well,” he said, and he snapped his fingers.

Things became unfunny very, very quickly.

If the air had become cold earlier, now it became startlingly hot, just for a moment, the alley rising up at least five degrees, and Leo heard this choked, startled gasp that he immediately recognized as his twin brother. At the same time, a blinding, almost familiar flash of white light overtook the alley, and Leo hissed, flinching away.

When he looked back, he was horrified to find that where his brother had been standing just a moment ago there was instead some sort of green, scaled creature, their eyes slitted and their skin leathery and bumped, and he thought, what the hell happened to my brother? And after a moment of silence, all of them staring in dazed shock, the reptile flailed, floundered, held its own hands up to its face as if to examine them, and promptly began screaming.

And Leo recognized his own brother's screams, so instead he was thinking: what the hell happened to my brother?!

“What did you do?!” Leo shrieked. Behind him, Mikey screamed, too, and he could hear April spluttering out an impressive string of curse words. He just barely resisted the urge to race over to Donnie’s side, to check if he was okay, (he’s not okay, he knows he’s not okay,) to try to help him, to fix it, because he couldn’t just turn his back on the enemy in front of them-- couldn’t ignore the very obvious threat.

“I simply removed the cloaking enchantment as he requested,” Draxum responded calmly. He even looked amused, almost, the very corners of his lips turning up.

“You what!? What the hell are you-- fix it!!! Turn him back!!!” Leo demanded, his voice rising with the very edges of panic, his pulse climbing ever-steadily higher the longer he listened to his siblings scream.

The other sighed deeply, tilting their head to the side. “Do you still not understand? Fine, then. I’ll show you as well.”

Snap.

Leo wouldn’t describe the experience as painful, but it really wasn’t pleasant, either. He swore he could feel his skin being stripped away and reforming; it was like his skeleton itself was being rearranged, his entire body becoming fluid for just a split second before solidifying again in new places, new patterns, new spaces. An unfamiliar weight pulled at his shoulders, forcing his spine to bend, and his hands and feet fell in a way that now felt unnatural to him. His skin seemed to lay over his muscles differently now.

He was vaguely aware of Mikey screaming somewhere behind him a second time, echoing Donatello’s continued wails.

“Guys?” April bit out, her voice high and frightened.

What the hell happened to him?

“What-- what did you do?” Leo repeated himself, his eyes wide, straining, because his vision was ever-so-slightly different than it had been a few seconds ago and he didn’t know how to adjust. He swore to god he was frozen in place. He wasn’t sure when he had ended up on his knees, but he was shaking so hard, he supposed he wasn’t surprised.

What the fuck happened to his body?

“Now are you convinced?” The yokai pressed. “Now, we will be going to my lab whether you want to or not. We can either do this the easy way or the hard way. I would highly recommend the easy way,” he hummed, giving a sharp sweep of his arms. Wind tugged at his back and Leo had just barely the presence of mind to glance behind him, his eyes widening in horror to see this huge expanse of black opening up behind him.

Mikey-- (Mikey? They were small, they were wearing Mikey’s clothes, it must be Mikey--) yelped loudly, the inky cloud yanking him from his feet. April jumped, attempting to grab her baby brother, though she only succeeded in falling into him-- both of them swallowed up into the portal. Raph gave a strangled howl of protest, diving right after them, and Donnie was sucked up as well, disappearing from Leo’s sight. His heart thudded wildly in his ears. He could feel the magick yanking at him, trying to pull him in as well.

But Leo had always been the fastest.

Every shred of him was screaming to follow, to chase after his family, to go with his sister and brothers, but he tensed his muscles, his stance widening and holding firm as he set his sights back on the yokai towering before him. A tiny voice in his head whispered in his ears that following wouldn’t help--

No, he had to move forward. This guy was the one hurting them.

Get him.

Leo wasn’t sure if he had leapt forward or if he simply was there. Everything was moving too quickly for even him to follow, the blinding white of panic and rage eating hungrily at the edges of his vision, threatening to overtake him. Either way, he lunged, a cry of protective fury wringing itself from his chest.

"Stay away from my brothers," he snarled, his own throat staggering painfully with the force with which he screamed out his warning, his hands flying forward to grab the yokai by his throat, slamming into him at full speed. He felt the alien velvet fuzz of Draxum’s skin beneath the tear of his fingernails (claws) even as the pair of them were flung from their feet. Gravity was stolen from them both, the portal behind them reaching out to consume them.

Everything went black. For just a second, tumbling through nothingness, floating through the sizzling rush of magick itself, Leo couldn’t see anything. He couldn’t hear anything, all he could feel was the body of the yokai against him, struggling against his grip, attempting to throw him away.

And then this bright, searing lavender light came singing through the world. It didn’t reflect or bounce; nothing was lit up by it. Leo still could not see himself, could not even find the outline of his own hands or fingers. But this brilliant, complex pattern of the palest, gentlest pastel purple lit up bright before him, swirling and twisting in foreign shapes, and Leo just barely recognized that the ribbon of runes they formed echoed the shape of the yokai he had just grabbed.

The body he was clinging to went limp.

The next second, the wind was knocked out of him as they made impact with stone, light coming streaming back into his universe. Leo found himself landing in a heap in their new location, the portal disappearing behind them. Oddly, however, the crash landing didn’t hurt near as much as he would have expected it to.

“Leo!” He heard Raph cry. Leo groaned, still dazed, looking around blearily. Where the hell were they? He glanced over at the yokai who he had yanked through the portal with them, only to find them in an awkward slump just a few paces away, completely limp and seemingly unconscious.

“Are you okay? What happened?” Raph demanded, moving quickly to his side. Mikey was already all bundled up in his arms, shaking like a leaf and absolutely clinging to him for dear life like he was going to fall apart if he let go. And Leo couldn’t even blame him if he did. Mikey had always been the smallest of them, and Raph always the biggest, but Leo thought dimly that the size difference between them now was fucking bananas.

Jesus christ. Raph was fucking huge. And… spiky. Was he a goddamn dinosaur? What the fuck.

“I-- yeah-- I-- I think the goatman got knocked out--” He stammered, still reeling slightly, trying to collect himself, to gather himself, adrenaline still rushing through his veins like it was a racetrack.

Somewhere in the background, Donnie fucking screamed, and Leo immediately forgot about everything else, his head whipping around.

“Donnie!” He cried, on his feet in a second, rushing over to his brother’s side. He had no idea where they were, not having yet taken stock of the location. He was only dimly aware that they were someplace cold and dark, with stone and concrete above, below, and around them. Donnie had pressed himself up against one of the walls, his entire body rigid and his head bent forward, his arms fluttering wildly beside his head in such a way that Leo recognized he was fighting not to hit himself. Good job, Dee. The screaming continued, but every wail that wrenched its way out of Donnie’s mouth was short and grinding, repeating itself over and over like an alarm. It was fucking terrifying. Not for him, but for Donnie, because he could tell that they were completely, totally not in control. Just panicking.

“Hey. Hey, hey, it’s okay, I’m right here, Don. It’s alright. It’s okay, you’re safe, I’m right here, hermano,” he tried to soothe, forcing his voice down, calm, steady. He knew better than to touch Donnie, but he would reach over just long enough to tap a button on the side of his headphones that he knew would flip the device into white noise mode. Donnie jerked slightly in response, and the screaming stopped, at least, but he didn’t relax. His arms still fluttered and flapped anxiously, and he shifted just enough to begin rocking back and forth, clenching his jaw and grinding his teeth so hard that Leo was afraid he was going to hurt himself. His chest absolutely shook with the panicked, shuddering breaths he was taking, hyperventilating so hard that his entire body trembled in response.

“Come on, Donnie, it’s alright. It’s okay. We’re safe, Mikey and Raph and April are safe, we’re gonna be okay, but you’ve gotta breathe, dude. Can you try it with me? Like this? We’ve gotta calm down a little bit--” Leo pressed on because this was not his first rodeo. He wasn’t quite as adept at handling these things as their dad was, and at this point, Donnie was pretty good at avoiding meltdowns and panic attacks, armed with tools and tricks and years of therapy, but sometimes they were unavoidable and Leo had always known how to calm them down, always been able to step up and help, the same way Donnie could for him--

But Donnie wasn’t calming down. Donnie wouldn’t even look up at him. Rather, Donnie scrunched up harder, curled his lips, and fucking hissed at him.

And, okay, look, it wasn’t the first time Donnie had hissed at them. Donnie used to love to hiss at people when they were little kids, though nowadays he was more likely to express annoyance with declarations such as “groan” or “scoff” or “eye-roll.” But he didn’t hiss like this.

He sounded fucking feral. Even more than that, he sounded fucking terrified. He looked like a goddamn cornered animal, his eyes blown out and huge, the scaly skin that now made up his form stretched tight over shivering muscles and his lips drawn back over sharp, pointed teeth. And Leo looked down at his own clawed, three-fingered hand and came to a horrible realization.

He couldn’t help because Donnie couldn’t recognize him. They were panicking because they were in this crazy, fucked up body that wasn’t theirs, and Leo was in a fucked up body that wasn’t his, and looking at him was just a reminder of everything wrong. He was just scaring them more. His being here was just making things worse, and Leo’s throat tied itself in a knot, swelling up as the backs of his eyes pinched with the thought.

“April,” he called, his voice cracking slightly as he desperately turned to look for his sister. She wasn’t far off, watching from a short distance with obvious worry, and she blinked in surprise at the sound of her name.

“Help me.”

---

If Leo was being completely honest, he hadn’t even realized that Donnie wasn’t still nearby. The two of them typically stuck together like glue whenever they were at school. Leo would usually lead the way, and Donnie would trail after, with Leo doing most of the talking and socializing for both of them. And once Donnie got sick of whatever they were doing, he would simply drag Leo off to sit and read or work on some project or puzzle for a while, and Leo would oblige and keep him company. Donnie was always close by, and Leo wasn’t even aware that this wasn’t currently the case, too absorbed in his latest arts and crafts project, until he heard a telltale, high-pitched whine from across the room.

He was on his feet in seconds, abandoning the activity and his classmates to scuttle off in search of his twin brother. Luckily, he wasn’t too hard to find. Both because he was pretty loud, and also because their substitute teacher was crouched down next to him. She was nice enough, Leo thought, but not quite as cool as Miss Mitchelle was, and he wasn’t sure if Donnie liked her at all. It definitely didn’t seem like he liked her too much right now with how he was all balled up, and Leo wasted no time at all in planting himself physically between the two.

Donnie immediately gravitated towards his brother and Leo moved a bit closer in turn, giving Miss Substitute (he didn’t remember her name,) a very displeased look.

“He doesn’t like whatever you’re doing,” he declared firmly.

Miss Substitute’s expression twitched and faltered for a moment before it settled back into something patient and pleasant, though Leo still didn’t quite trust it. “Leo,” she said, “I was just trying to talk with your brother--”

“I can talk to him,” Leo assured immediately, not bothering to listen to the remainder of her sentence because he couldn’t imagine it would be all that important or interesting. He turned to face Donnie instead. “It’s okay. I can always understand him, ‘cause we have a secret twin language. We made it up. Only we can speak it,” he declared proudly, crouching down to lean in towards his brother, his arms wrapped around his knees.

Donnie was still whining a bit, curled up into a ball and shoved halfway inside of a cubby, his arms crossed protectively over his head as he rocked. And yeah, he was obviously upset, though Leo wasn’t completely sure why yet. As such, he got to work, conversing with his twin in the previously mentioned secret twin language.

… And.

Okay.

So.

They didn’t actually have a secret twin language.

But it was close enough! It wasn’t a language, per se, ‘cause it didn’t have words, just noises and chirps and trills and squeaks and babbles. But he still always got the gist of what Donnie was saying, and Donnie would get the gist of what he was saying, too, so it worked. Sooner or later, he could pretty much always get an understanding of what Donnie was meaning based on the inflection or tone of his noises, as well as calm the other down enough so that Leo could coax a couple of signs out of him, so Leo figured it was close enough to language.

Plus, the ‘language’ itself always seemed to kind of settle Donnie down when he was upset like this. Once Leo started humming and squeaking at him, Donnie gradually started to answer with his own chirps and clicks, and, little by little, Leo watched their twin’s body untense and unwind. Leo grinned, moving to sit properly by him, and Donnie moved closer, edging just a bit out of his hiding spot so he could shove himself up against Leo’s side instead, resting his head against his shoulder and settling in there, an indignant scowl still on his face.

Leo grinned, puffing out his chest a bit as he shot Miss Substitute a look. See? He told her so. He and Donnie always understood each other, no matter what, and he could always fix it when Donnie wasn’t feeling good! He was basically the best brother in the entire world. Confident that he understood the problem, he turned back to face Miss Substitute.

“He said you’re not doing the schedule right, and we’re supposed to do math right now,” he announced, crossing his arms over his chest. And he hadn’t even noticed, but Donnie was right, they did usually do math lessons during this part of the day-- not arts and crafts. “And also, he doesn’t like the paper fish we’re doing ‘cause the glue feels bad. So we gotta find something else to do,” he insisted. “‘Cause otherwise Donnie and I aren’t playing.”

Donnie nodded a tiny bit from behind him, and Leo beamed with pride. Understanding Donnie and calming him down wasn’t even that hard. He didn’t get why adults besides Dad had such a hard time with it sometimes. You really just had to listen to him.

---

It took a while for April to calm Donnie back down, (or at least get him as calm as they possibly could be in such circumstances,) but she managed after a bit, his panicked breaths eventually dying down into something a bit more even and steady. Thank god. Mikey thought dimly to himself that he had never seen Donnie freak out so bad, but... he supposed he couldn't really blame him.

He frowned a bit, looking down at his own, unfamiliar hands, and he curled up a bit more, his tail tucking in (oh my god, he had a tail,) as he clung to Raph's plastron (oh my god, Raph had a plastron.) And though it still held comfort, the fold of his biggest brother's arms, bundled up close and held there, this place that he had known his whole life... it suddenly felt foreign, too. Everything was hard and jagged and cold. And even worse-- it was unfamiliar.

He kept staring at his own hands because he couldn't stop himself, and it made his stomach wobble. He wondered bleakly what his own face looked like because he had no idea. He wouldn't even recognize himself in the mirror.

Now that Donnie had finally settled a bit, though he was still curled up and pressed just against April's side, just barely not touching but still squeezed up small against her, Leo finally got up to his feet-- only to immediately lose his balance, falling over onto his back with a loud clunk.

"Leo!" Raph's eyes widened, his muscles immediately bunching up, ready to jump up and go grab his brother. Mikey could tell that he was just barely resisting the urge to scoop up all three of them and bundle them up in his arms and just hang onto them for a while. He had been sitting here long enough for Mikey to notice how fast his heart was beating. Mikey’s was keeping pace. Leo kind of flailed for a second before he managed to redirect the momentum to roll over onto his side, getting himself back onto his hands and knees. A wry, strangled laugh forced its way out of him.

"Alright. Well. Pro tip: center of gravity is weird now," he remarked dryly, his voice strained. "But the good news is falling doesn't even hurt anymore! So that’s great!"

It didn't get a laugh out of anyone. After a moment of hesitation, Mikey slowly wriggled his way from Raph's grip, making his way over to Leo's side. He didn't dare try to walk after watching Leo's attempt, noting that it seemed to be more difficult now without the rush of adrenaline to aid them, so he instead stayed in a crouch, sort of half-hopping-half-crawling over. Raph followed shortly after in a similar manner.

"Can I see?" He questioned softly, and when Leo didn't deny him, he leaned over slightly, moving his hoodie (which was now a very awkward fit,) out of the way enough so that he could examine the edges of his brother's new shell.

(Oh my god. His brother's shell. What kind of a sentence was that? What kind of weird, fucked up make-believe world were they suddenly in? Leo was his brother. He didn't have a shell. He had cool brown skin. He had bouncy blonde curls that Mikey had helped him bleach and dye a red streak in. He had vitiligo 'stripes' over his eyes. He had a bad habit of cycling through boyfriends and insomnia and a shockingly large vocabulary... but he didn't have a shell. He didn't have scales or stripes or claws or a tail.)

He looked anyway, running the tips of his fingers over the top of it, following the curve. He couldn't quite tell if he was feeling the texture of the shell, or just the texture of his own fingers, which were different than they had been; covered in scales, the skin thicker and rougher than it had been before. Bending his joints felt odd, and he couldn't help himself from doing it over and over, as if that might help him get used to it faster.

Every part of his brother’s shell was this cool, ocean blue, just edging on teal in some places, and Mikey thought to himself that, in the very least, it matched his life color perfectly.

He swallowed hard and resisted the tears that were building up in his eyes. He didn’t want to cry right now. He didn’t even know what he was crying about. Because he was scared? Because he was overwhelmed? He wasn’t very good at not crying, but he forced it down, his hands trembling a bit with the effort of it.

"Does it look the same as mine?" He heard himself asking, his eyes flickering over to meet Leo's (which were now not something he recognized, looking more animal than person, though they still retained the same, familiar almond shape. The color, however, he realized, was slightly different. Leo's eyes were brown. All of their eyes were brown, so dark that they were almost black, but now, instead, Leo's eyes were mismatched; one of them dark blue, like water in a cove, like the sea at night, and the other dark red, like ink with blood, like black cherries.)

"I dunno," Leo laughed, though his voice was still shaking. "I don't know what mine looks like."

"They're... kinda the same…" Raph observed from nearby, leaning over slightly to examine them both. His voice sounded kind of hollow, like he wasn’t really there. Sort of far-off. "I mean. The parts I can see. Mikey, yours is more... orangey. And bumpier," he said. "And yours is spotty. Leo's is kinda... stripey."

"Yours is huge," Leo observed with a chuckle, glancing over at their biggest brother, who was always the tallest and largest by a wide margin, but now absolutely dwarfed the rest of them. "And... spiky. You're all spiky. And… and fucking huge, dude. You look like you have fucking paws. And your mouth is all..." He laughed again, scrubbing anxiously at his face with his hands. "You look like a fucking snapping turtle."

Mikey paused a bit at that, glancing over at the other.

Donnie must have said or signed something that the rest of them didn’t catch, because April spoke up next, clearly addressing him. "Uhm, no, yours is... uh. It's kind of flat? And..." There was a pause. "Oh, oh my god, it's, like, squishy!" She squealed, everyone else in the room jumping in response, before she tamped down the noise, biting her lip and getting a handle on her reaction. "Sorry! Sorry, I just. I just wasn't expecting that texture, that's all! It doesn't... feel like what I thought a shell would feel like, I guess."

"Are we different kinds of... turtles?" Mikey questioned, tilting his head to the side. He wanted to laugh at himself when he said turtles. I mean, seriously, turtles? Of all the creatures in the world, turtles? Why were they turtles?

"I guess we must be," Leo sighed, resting his chin on his knee. "We obviously look different."

Mikey frowned, and he thought that his lips might be trembling if he had proper lips anymore, but he wasn't sure if he did or if they could tremble or what that would feel like if they did. Okay, fine. Now there were a few tears.

"Does that mean we're not brothers?"

A beat of silence followed.

"We're not," Donnie said, and quite frankly, Mikey was surprised to hear him speaking. Small miracles? Kinda…?

"Yeah, we are. Don't be crazy," Raph immediately refuted, his brows (er... brows? Place where brows once were?) furrowing together, and Mikey was desperately relieved to see that the space in between still wrinkled into a crease the same way they always did. "Of course we're brothers."

"Evidently, we're not even the same species," Donnie hissed out bitterly, drawing himself up even closer, even smaller, into a little ball. "It's literally impossible."

"Come on, Dee--"

"We're not even human!" Donnie snapped, hunching up his shoulders. "We're not even people!"

"Hey, look, come on you guys," April tried to soothe, holding up her hands as if to calm the group. "It doesn't matter if you're turtles! It doesn't matter to me. I love you guys no matter what--"

"Oh, wow, what a comfort!" Donnie scoffed, and April bristled.

"Okay, look, I am trying to be helpful! I know that this fucking sucks but you do not need to take out your nasty attitude on me!"

Leo suddenly laughed-- loudly, painfully-- tilting his head back and letting his shoulders slump so he could stare up at the ceiling. "Oh my god. Jesus christ. We're not people," he bit out in between his barely restrained hysterics, squeezing his eyes shut. "We're freaks, dude!"

"Leo, c'mon."

"We're not even people!!!" He repeated. "Fuck. We never even had a chance, and we didn't even know it!... Oh my god, we’re such morons!!! Hahaha-- welp! This is it! Pack it in, boys, it’s all over!"

"Leo, chill. What are you even talkin’ about?"

"Did you know I was gonna go on T?" He questioned, turning around sharply, suddenly, to face Raph. "Me and Dad were talking about it. For, like, a while now. And I was gonna start T, finally. Do you know how much I wanted to do that? Do you know how long I've been waiting to get to do that?"

Raph frowned. "Leo... This doesn't mean--"

"How the fuck is that going to work now!?" He interrupted. "How is anything gonna work now? We're fucking! REPTILES! Raph!!!"

"I KNOW THAT!" Now Raph was yelling, too, and Mikey flinched a bit, hiccuping softly as he drew himself down, retreating slightly, halfway into his shell (oh my god, he can do that now?) "You think you're the only one who was lookin' forward to stuff? I was--" He cut himself off, breathing in deep and then letting it out slow, his jaw tensed.

"Look. I know this... sucks. But it's not gonna help to just throw in the towel right now and mourn shit that we don't even know is gone yet, alright? We'll... figure it out," he said. "We don’t even know what’s goin’ on, so let’s just… let's just try to figure it out first. Okay?"

Leo frowned. He looked down and to the side, tightening his hands into fists, but he didn't have any rebuttal. After a moment, he took a deep breath, pulling himself up to his feet for a second time. He tottered for a moment, his arms windmilling until he found his balance and this time he stayed on his feet. He looked around the room for a moment before his eyes fell on the limp form of Baron Draxum, still crumpled in a heap some odd paces away.

"What do we do with that guy?"

All of their eyes snapped over, as though they had all just remembered that he was there in the first place.

"Did you knock him out, dude?!" Raph questioned, his eyes widening slightly.

"No! I mean. I don't think so. Not exactly," Leo said. "It's, like-- he grabbed me and some sort of mystic-magic-whatever thing happened. He lit up with a bunch of symbols and he just... went down. I dunno what happened."

"Well," Raph said, sighing deeply before he pulled himself to his feet as well, doing a similar rock and wobble to Leo before he figured out the new balance he had to strike, correcting his own footing. His long tail swung back and forth behind him, assumedly on instinct, to help. "We dunno how long he's gonna stay down, so we oughta find a way out of here and put some distance between us and him ASAP. We already know where Dad is, anyway."

"Maybe we can figure out where we are," Donnie mumbled bleakly, pulling himself to his feet as well. He seemed to struggle much less than his brothers did, and Mikey noted that his back rounded less than theirs. April got up as well, sticking close to his side, but perhaps hovering a bit less now.

Mikey watched as his family rose up, one by one, finding their feet again. And something in his chest unwound and loosened again. A breath he hadn't realized he had been holding came tumbling out of him.

He didn't know his own face anymore. And he didn't recognize his brothers when he looked at them.

But they were still them. Already, Mikey was completely sure of it. And the change, while still terrifying, felt just a tiny bit less devastating.

He hadn’t lost them yet.

Bracing himself for the coming challenge, he rose up to his feet as well. The unfamiliar weight on his back was more than he had expected and attempted to drag him down, and he stumbled slightly, nearly toppling over onto his back the same way Leo had the first time-- but Raph grabbed his wrist before he could, pulling him forward and correcting him, and Mikey was relieved to find his center of gravity once more. Usually, he would complain about his big brother stepping in, preferring to do things on his own rather than being 'babied' by his older family members, but...

Right now, it was actually okay.

"Okay. Let's do this."

(They took about three steps before Raph yelped and tripped over his own tail.)

---

Though they had tied up the so-called "Baron Draxum" with whatever rope and other scrap they could find in this place, (the longer they were here, the more Donnie began to suspect it was a lab of some kind,) none of them were very confident that it would be able to hold him for very long, if at all, and so they all got to work trying to figure out an exit. But to call this place 'maze-like' was a bit of an understatement.

"This is the worst landmark ever," April hissed in frustration as they turned a corner, only to once again be met with a hog-tied yokai, face-down on the concrete. "We keep going in circles!"

"Okay, look," Donnie sighed. "I know we don't want to linger here any more than we have to, but let's look around a bit and see if there's anything useful lying around to get us out of here. Clearly just walking out isn't getting us anywhere."

There was a chorus of grunts and mumbles of agreement from the rest of his family, and the group slowly fanned out, beginning their search. It was dark here, wherever they were. The ground beneath his feet was cold, with him and his brothers having already ditched and stowed their sneakers and boots after realizing how awkward and painful it was to walk in them with their new wide, two-toed feet.

The space was wide and almost circular, with various tunnels branching off at different levels, all leading away to who-knew-where. Several desks and tables were scattered about the space, each surface covered in everything from charts to pipettes to oddly-shaped jars filled with oddly-colored substances. Donnie just barely resisted the urge to sit down and start working, or to begin snatching and pocketing things as he found them. Instead, he took a liberal amount of photographs of everything they found on his phone.

His impulse control could only get him so far, however, and his eyes narrowed as they fell across a small, purpley-pink gem that lay on the desk, suspended within a small glass case. This certainly looked interesting... Geology wasn't really a passion of his, but something about this just seemed... intriguing. He couldn't quite place it...

Surely no one would miss this, right? It was small! It would be silly not to take it, quite frankly, and he slipped it into his pocket as quietly as he could when he was sure no one else was looking.

Now, if only he could find some blueprints of the tunnels... But that would be too easy, wouldn't it?

"So," Mikey said after a minute or so of them searching, and Donnie sighed internally. Of course, they couldn't expect him to stay quiet for that long. "If Raph is a snapping turtle, and me and Leo are turtle-turtles, then what kind of a turtle is Donnie?"

Donnie rolled his eyes, scowling. "Okay, well, first of all, do we really have to discuss this?" He hissed, immediately bristling. "I’d highly prefer we not address the proverbial elephant in the room, thank you! Second of all, 'turtle-turtle' is not a species."

"Yeah, but, like, we have turtle shells!" Mikey explained. "But April said yours is squishy. So what does that make you?"

Donnie sighed deeply. Talking about this made his skin itch.

"A softshell turtle, I suppose."

"A softshell?" Leo questioned, raising a brow. "That's a thing?"

"Yes."

"How do you know that off the top of your head?" Raph questioned.

"Some of us actually paid attention during biology classes," he responded dryly. And having a near-photographic memory did, admittedly, help as well…

"Whoa!" Mikey absolutely beamed. "That's so cool! Now we just gotta figure out what kind of turtles me and Leo are!"

"Well, I'd look it up if we had any service. And also if it was even close to being an appropriate time for us to waste our efforts on something like that," Donnie said with a roll of his eyes. He knew that Mikey was just distracting himself, finding a silver lining so he didn’t break down, but Donnie didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to think about how much of their entire lives was completely fabricated, about how--

He snorted, suddenly doubling over with laughter.

"What?" April questioned, raising a brow.

"I just-- I just realized!" Donnie laughed. "Our... our moms must be turtles! Fucking turtles!"

There was a beat of silence as this sunk in before Raph gave a similar reaction. "Damn! I guess you're right, huh?"

"Do you have any idea how much time I wasted in therapy talking about this?" Donnie squeaked out through giggles. "I spent so much time with Mossy talking about our mom and how she didn't want us or whatever the fuck and about the stuff she did to Dad and how I couldn't remember her, and she-- she was never even real! None of that ever even happened! She was just a fucking turtle, wasn't she!? We don’t even have a real mom!"

"Whoa! Mind... blown. I didn't even think about that..." Mikey gaped, his eyes wide. "This whole time I just assumed that our mom was probably the hotel lady..."

"Yeah, me too," Leo agreed.

Donnie blinked.

"You what?"

"Well, you know, that woman that Dad was datin’ right before he disappeared," Raph said. "And she runs the Grand Nexus Hotel, right? All the articles I ever read always mentioned her."

Donnie's eyes twitched. "You thought she was our mother?" He questioned.

"Well, that's who Dad was datin’ last! And for a long time, too. It'd make sense, wouldn't it?" Raph defended.

"Yeah. You didn't think that?" Leo said.

"NO! Why would I think that?!" Donnie was laughing again.

Leo huffed in offense, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm sorry, do you know something we don't?"

"Apparently!" Donnie exclaimed. "Guys, you've seen pictures of her, right?!"

"Well, yeah?" Mikey tilted his head to the side.

"She's pale as fuck!"

"So?"

"And our Dad is Japanese!"

"And? Donnie, what's your point?"

"We're black!"

"... Ooooohhhhh," all three of his brothers said, nearly in unison, after Donnie's argument finally sunk in.

"Oh my god," Donnie laughed, covering his face with his hands, scrubbing tears from his eyes. "You're all so fucking dumb..."

"I guess our mom would have had to be black. I mean. We got the Japanese half from Dad, but... I never really thought about where the other half came from..." Raph admitted, his mouth still slightly agape like he was still rolling the thought about in his head.

"Wait a minute," April said, her hands on her hips. "I mean, yeah, all that makes sense, but if you guys have secretly been turtles this whole time, then why are you black?"

"Dude, are all turtles black?" Mikey questioned, his eyes widening.

"I cannot discuss this any further. I'll get a migraine and furthermore cease to function, as I am, and I cannot stress this enough, just barely suppressing the gravity of this whole situation right now," Donnie sighed, gesturing to himself as he turned back to the desk in front of him. "Did anyone find anything yet?"

"Not yet," April sighed, shuffling through some papers. "What even is all this junk?"

"I'm not sure. Some sort of research, it seems like..." Donnie mused, sort of thumbing through a book as he spoke, reading key phrases and chunks of text as quickly as he could and making mental notes so he could refer back to it later. He was more than happy to have something else to focus on, though this would admittedly be a lot easier with human hands. "But I'm still not sure where--"

Shhhh shhhh.

Donnie paused mid-sentence, his brows furrowed. He hadn't noticed that sound before now. He tilted his head a bit to the side, turning in its direction, trying to zero in.

"... Donnie?"

"What's that noise?" He questioned aloud, though his voice was barely above a whisper.

Shhhh shhhhh.

He knew that noise. He recognized it. Where had he heard it before?

Shhhh shhhhh.

... Water, he realized with a start. The noise was running water. Of course. How had he never realized this before?...

That's what he was hearing. That's what he had heard.

"Dee? You good?"

"Guys," he said, turning just enough to glance over in their direction. His face suddenly felt like glass. It was odd. "I think... I think we're in the sewer," he said. "... And I think we've been here before...?"

Before anyone could say anything further, a new noise filled up the space.

Skrrrtttccchhhhh.

---

"What was that?!" Mikey shrieked, immediately leaping behind his biggest brother to hide. Leo and Donnie were instantly gravitating to each other as well, falling into stance on instinct as they stood back to back, each covering the other.

"It sounds like something scratching," April said thoughtfully, and true to her word, the same skritching noise clawed its way through the air a moment later, echoing slightly against the walls. "I think it's coming from over here!"

"April!" Raph hissed off a protest as she took off, heading in the direction of the sound. "We don't know what that is!"

"We will if we go look!" She chirped in reply. I mean, come on, what was the benefit of hiding over here instead of investigating? Weren't they curious either way? Besides, they were stuck here regardless-- maybe they'd find something helpful.

The noise continued as April searched, peering around corners and down tunnels, until, finally, she found her prize. Tucked inside one of the off-shoot tunnels, one of the many dead-ends that seemed to surround this space, was a proverbial treasure trove. A variety of odds and ends filled the space; various amulets and scrolls and chests and even weapons were leaned up against the wall or stacked up on the ground. In fact, a lot of weapons were in here. Was this some kind of a weird armory? Or a trophy room? What kind of sewer has a trophy room?

But most interestingly, she found the source of the noise. Inside a small, dimly lit orb, looking as though it were made of some sort of glass, or perhaps even light, was one of the oddest creatures April had ever seen, clawing sadly at the surface of its prison. It had ears like a chihuahua, pointed and too big for its head, with tufts of fur poofing out from inside, but huge eyes like some kind of a cat. Pointed tusks stuck from its mouth like a boar, but soft, downy yellow-and-blue fur covered its entire, squirrel-like body, complete with a fluffy, wriggly tail.

"AW, you guyyssss!" She called out. "Come look! It's cute!"

"April!" The guys were right behind her, with Raph leading the charge. "You can't just run off like-- jumpin' jack flash! What the heck is that thing?!"

"I dunno!" April said with a shrug, immediately making her way into the room, scooping up the orb so she could examine it, looking for a way to open it up. The little critter inside pattered about excitedly, its claws clicking against the smooth surface. "Help me figure out how to get him outta here."

"Are you sure about that?" Leo questioned. "No offense, but we have nooo idea what that thing is! Maybe it's, I dunno, locked up for a reason?"

"What? C'mon, guys, we've gotta help!" Mikey protested, turning on them with big, pleading eyes. Nice, April thought, with Mikey on her side she had basically already won. Suck it, middle children. "Plus, he was locked up by Draxum. So he can't be bad!"

"Yeah! Ever heard ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend?’" April added in.

"I'm not convinced," Donnie said, crossing his arms over his chest. "I mean, has anyone else noticed that pretty much everything else in this room is a weapon of some kind? Isn't that maybe a bit telling?"

"Aw, come on, Dee. Look at this face!" April insisted, holding up the orb to the others. The creature, to their credit, played their part, pulling an absolutely pitiful face which Mikey immediately echoed, turning to his brothers with watery eyes.

Checkmate.

"Okay, okay, fine. Look, there's gotta be something in here that can help us bust him out..." Leo muttered, beginning to pick his way through the contents of the room with Raph, Donnie, and Mikey following suit shortly after.

"Here, what about these?" Leo said after a moment, turning to face them with a pair of twin katanas in hand. "Think I could slice that bad boy open with these guys?"

April scoffed, clutching the orb close to her chest. "Uhm, and this guy in half, maybe!" She protested. "Can we try something a little less deadly, please?"

"Aw, come on! These are cool," Leo protested, grinning as he twirled them in his hands with a metallic shwing.

"You just like them because you always win at any swordsmanship event at tournaments," Donnie remarked dryly, grabbing a long wooden staff to hold in his hands, testing the weight of it. "... That being said, should we maybe grab some of these just in case?"

"Whaddya mean?" Raph glanced over at the other.

"Well, we haven't even made it to the Hidden City yet, and we've already been attacked once," Donnie reasoned, placing a hand on his hip and frowning. "So it wouldn't exactly be a bad idea to have some weapons on hand in case of an emergency." He spun the bo staff in his hands appraisingly a few times. "I mean, obviously this is a bit underwhelming, but I'm sure I could make some improvements once we got back home..."

"Sounds like a good plan to me! Look at all the stuff they’ve got!” Mikey cheered, immediately diving in, beginning to sort through all the various options they had in the room. He chuckled darkly, swinging a pair of nun-chucks in his hands. “These’ll do…”

“Yo, guys!” Raph called, waving to get his brothers’ attention before pointing to the very far corner of the room. “If we’re gonna take stuff, why don’t we take the glowy ones?”

There was, in fact, a weapons rack filled with floating, vaguely glowing weapons, tucked away in the shadows, which only made the glow all that much more tempting. They were simply begging to be taken.

Mikey and Leo, almost in unison, gasped, their faces absolutely lighting up as they raced over to join Raph. “Ooh, dibs on the sword!” Leo cheered, immediately snatching up the odachi and repeatedly striking poses.

“Hot soup! Check me out!” Mikey snatched up a bright orange kusari-fundo, absolutely beaming ear-to-ear. Raph was nearly drooling as he laid his claim on a pair of tonfas, beaming as he gave a few experimental swings.

“They’re perfect! No one’ll mess with us now!”

“What about you, Donnie?” April questioned, tilting her head back to glance at the remaining brother. “Don’t you want a glowy weapon?”

“And add yet another unknown, uncontrolled variable to our current situation? I’m good,” Donnie scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I’ve trained with a regular, wooden bo staff. I’ll fight with a wooden bo staff, thank you very much. You all have fun with your likely-radioactive weaponry,” he said, waving them off.

“Here, April, I got something for you, too,” Mikey chirped excitedly, scampering over to present his find to her. “Ta-da!!! Baseball bat!”

It wasn’t a baseball bat-- it was a club. But close enough! April gasped in delight. “It’s perfect!” She enthused, immediately snatching it up, rolling it around in her hands and tapping it against the side of her shoe a few times. Ooh, and the weight was perfect, too. “And I think it can help us get little guy out of this ball thingie, too! Leo, come hold it still for me!”

"Aw man, why do I gotta hold it?" Leo muttered in complaint but did as he was told regardless, kneeling down to hold the orb steady, taking care in the placement of his hands to minimize the chances of broken fingers.

"Alright," April said, backing up a bit, her tongue sticking out from between her lips with focus. "This won't hurt a bit..."

She swung the club back, taking care to temper her strength, and brought it down on the little ball prison with a satisfying crunch.

"Did it work?" Mikey gasped, his eyes wide as he leaned over. The orb was not shattered nor laying in pieces; but the side of it had caved in considerably, a spiderweb of cracks blossoming from it, and a second later, it simply dissolved as if it had never been there in the first place. The creature that had previously been trapped inside cracked one eye open, having squeezed itself into the very back of its cage, flinching at the oncoming impact, gave an absolute trill of excitement, darting about in celebration.

"There we go!" April said, grinning wide, her hands planted on her hips. "See, told ya I'd get you outta there! That's better, right?"

The little yellow beast threw itself into her lap, wriggling with joy and nuzzling at her with an enthusiastic wag of its tail. "Okay, okay! You're welcome!" April laughed, giggling as she allowed the creature to clamber about in her arms, allowing it time to bounce about before it finally began to settle again.

"Any chance you know how to get out of here, little guy?"

---

Raph looked up from his phone and his tea at the sound of mail plopping down on the table, glancing over to examine the letters his father had just tossed over in his direction.

"For you," Dad remarked, sorting through the remaining mail from the day.

"For me?" Raph echoed, his brows rising up. "Who the heck is sending me mail?" Curiosity took hold immediately, and he abandoned the wrestling video he had been watching previously in favor of tearing open the letters on the table.

He was surprised to find college brochures inside. His father, however, did not seem all that surprised at all, even adding a couple more to the pile.

"It seems you are in high demand," Dad teased, smiling the tiniest bit. "I have received a few emails as well from recruiters recently."

Raph paused for a moment, rolling this idea about in his brain, trying to figure out what it meant and what it tasted like before he forced a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

"Guess they haven't seen my grades yet," he joked weakly. Dad hummed softly, pulling up a chair so he could sit down next to his eldest son.

"Nonsense," he scoffed. "Your grades are fine, Raphael. You've simply tricked yourself into thinking they're not by comparing yourself to others," he added, giving the other a knowing look. "And besides that, this is hardly the only thing that matters. I have told you many times that grades aren't everything. My grades in high school were terrible!" He remarked with a laugh. "And your career in sports is very impressive."

"I guess," Raph said, wrinkling his nose up a bit as he leaned over the table. Easy for him to say. He had a hard time wrapping his head around the idea of colleges being interested in him when his three younger brothers were right here in the same damn house! Had they really meant to send these to Hamato Raphael?

Dad's hand moved to rub little circles into his back, and he nudged his son's teacup a bit. Raph agreeably took a sip, allowing the warm liquid to trickle down through his chest.

"I know you have not always enjoyed schoolwork, Raphael," Dad finally spoke again. "But you are not stupid. You may very well have the most common sense of any of my children!" He chuckled. "And you have many talents besides that. You are a remarkable athlete, and I know I do not have to drag you over to the trophy wall to prove this to you, but I will if I have to. You are only sixteen and you are already the captain of multiple sports teams... not just anyone could handle that! It is difficult to lead a team. But you have always handled this with grace. And teaching children! That is a talent in and of itself. That is no easy task. Trust me, I know," he said, smiling slightly. "But you are doing so well with your new job. And I am very proud of you."

Raphael glanced over at his father, for just a moment, hesitating like he wanted to say something, but then biting it back.

"You don't have to go to college if you don't want to," Dad added. "If you decide that is not the path for you, that is fine. I won't be upset or disappointed. I did not go to college, either! But I would hate for you to not even consider it just because you don't think you're good enough for it," he pressed. "I know you've always said you intend to pursue a career in sports of some kind, but this is very much an avenue to achieve that if you'd like. Many professional athletes get their start through college sports, you know. And I can already name half a dozen universities off the top of my head who would be thrilled to have you on their team in a couple of years!"

He sighed softly.

"But you do not have to decide right now, my son. There is still plenty of time for you to consider all of your options."

Raph glanced over at his father, shifting a bit in his seat, before looking to the side.

"Uh. I dunno, Pops. I mean. I'm not good at tests and all that junk. I mean. College football could be good 'n all, but, uh..."

He hesitated a second, sort of scratching the side of his jaw, hesitating a bit. "I dunno. Maybe I could... I mean. We could look at it, at least. I was kind of wonderin’ about, uh. I dunno… Just, lately, I was thinkin' about... studyin' early childhood education, maybe?..."

[ next ]

#sorrywhatnowau #sorrywhatnowau fic #rottmnt #rottmnt fanfic #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt au #rottmnt human au #tmnt

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ladykailitha · 1 year

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The Eddie Munson Guide to Dating an Oblivious Jock Part 2

LOL! I am loving the reactions for this. This is going to be part fun, with a little a seriousness, because Steve does have to be built up a bit.

Part 1

Step Three and Four: Getting your crush alone and Building Their Self-Esteem

This next two are interchangeable depending on your jock. If you think building their confidence is needed before you get them alone, you’ll need to do that first. But you if think that getting them away from their peer group first is essential to building their confidence; get them alone first.

“I think with Lucas,” Max said, “I would need to get him alone first. Because I don’t think he realizes how much they look down on him.”

Eddie nodded. “I did the opposite way with Steve. I needed build his confidence in front of everyone else, so that they would stop picking on his intelligence.”

Max nodded. She had been there for a couple of those smack downs. And she approved.

Now that you’ve established a shared interest, you’ll want to get them alone with you as often as possible. It’s harder to make moves on oblivious jockus, when there are others around to block you, make fun of your attempts, or even catch on to what your doing. Because if they figure it out before the jock, then they’ll tell him and ruin your plans. You want him to come to you all on his own and not because his friends told him to.

But as I said, I had to build his confidence first.

“Look, I know what a gorgon is,” Steve complained. “And I know what a demogorgon is. But what you just said right now, the gelatinous cube thing? That sounds like something I did at a rager.”

“Can you not talk about your slutty past while we’re talking about D&D, please?” Dustin asked, rolling his eyes.

Steve threw his arms in the air. “I’m not! I’m just saying it sounds stupid.”

“It’s not stupid!” Mike cried. “It nearly ate me. And it destroyed my shield. And and part of my armor!”

“This isn’t real life, man,” Lucas said. “I know we’ve gone up against some pretty heinous shit, but in the game world it’s pretty scary.”

Eddie ran his tongue over his teeth and he grinned that closed mouth grin that made him look condescending. Steve raised an eyebrow, fully expecting Eddie to join in on the dog piling.

“It’s pretty lame, guys,” Eddie said, kicking back and putting his feet up on the table, interlocking his fingers behind his head. “In fact it was pretty pathetic you got caught in it all.”

Steve pointed to Eddie. “See?”

Eddie grinned. “I was bored. And we weren’t really moving forward in the campaign so I threw it at you to see what you would do. And Mike pretty much tripped and fell into it.”

Dustin, Mike, and Lucas all winced.

“And Steve is allowed an opinion,” Eddie growled. “Even to an outsider, a gelatinous cube sounds lame. Now everyone apologize to Steve.”

The three boys looked at each other in shame and they mumbled their apologies.

Steve straightened up.

Once you start building up his esteem, give your jock opportunities to show off his intelligence.

Steve was waiting for Eddie to divvy up gold and experience. He frowned at all the stats they were rattling off.

“How do you keep track of all this stuff?” he asked.

“Well,” Mike said with a sneer, “if you weren’t so slow...”

“Hey,” Will defended. “You try remembering all that stuff with three concussions.”

Eddie just shook his head. “It’s not about intelligence, Steve. It’s about interest.”

Dustin frowned. “No it’s not.”

“I can prove it,” Eddie replied. Steve had his hands on his hips, his mouth a firm line. “Hey, Steve whose team is arguably the best in the NBA?”

Steve’s frown deepened, but he starting talking about who had the best defense and whose offense was superior before landing on a specific team.

All four boys stared at him in shock.

“Now who understood that?” Eddie asked, gleefully rubbing his hands together.

Lucas raised a tentative hand.

Eddie nodded. “Because you’re interested, right?”

The boy nodded.

“Hey, Steve?” Eddie called again, this time Steve looked a little less leery. “Who do you think will win the World Series this year? Not your favorite team, but the best one overall.”

Steve’s eyes lit up. And he rambled on for about five minutes explaining who had the best chances of going all the way.

Again all mouths remained slack jawed and all eyes remained wide open.

Eddie grinned. “Now who understood that?”

Will raised his hand. “A little. My dad used to watch baseball.”

Mike nodded. “I understood that a little bit more than I did the basketball.”

“That’s because someone you know would watch it all the time,” Eddie said, “that you kinda pick up a little bit. But you wouldn’t be able to rattle off those stats yourself, right?” He leaned forward, putting his hands on the table.

Mike and Will shook their heads.

“It’s just like I can name all of Metalica’s albums or my five classes in D&D,” Eddie continued. “Steve isn’t slow or stupid. He just has different interests. And it’s not as though you had all that D&D stuff memorized when you first started. And I bet Steve didn’t either, but years of watching and playing gave him that knowledge.”

“How did you know Steve could do that?” Dustin asked.

Eddie laughed. “He and my Uncle Wayne get together on the weekends when I’m practicing with my band to watch sports. They are often argue stats.”

Steve stared at him in shock and then blushed. “I didn’t realize you were about paying attention.”

Eddie just smiled.

Once you’ve given him chances to show off his smarts, make sure you shut down further attempts from his friends to insult his intelligence.

Steve was cleaning up after movie night with the help of Eddie and some very reluctant gremlins.

“You guys made the mess,” Steve insisted. “You get to clean up. Except Max, who, you know, is still using crutches?”

Max smiled up from the couch. “I get to supervise!”

Steve laughed. “Which you won’t use to lord over us at all...” he said sarcastically.

She just grinned bigger.

Steve started by handing out assignments. Lucas was on garbage duty, Will and El were on dishes (the only two Steve trusted not to break anything), Dustin was on vacuum duty, and Mike was wiping down counters.

Mike rolled his eyes. “This isn’t a sport, Steve. Just tell us to clean up and we’ll do it.”

Eddie paused from where he was putting away the food in the fridge. “No you won’t.”

Dustin frowned. “What? Yes we will.”

Eddie scoffed harder. “No, you won’t. As evidenced by how you guys clean up after D&D.”

Lucas stopped picking up the garbage. “We help.”

“You do,” Eddie agreed. “Will, too. But Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum here,” he pointed to Dustin and Mike, “will sit on their asses and chat about the campaign, while the rest of us clean up.”

Dustin and Mike opened their mouths to argue, but Eddie leveled a glare at them and they closed them again.

“Besides,” Will said, “there’s nothing wrong with everyone being assigned a task. It gets everything done quicker so we can all go home.”

Steve smirked. “And order isn’t just about sports. Even you guys have an order in your game, right? Initiative, right?”

“But that’s different,” Mike whined.

Eddie grinned. “You remembered!”

The boys paused and then turned to Steve with open mouths.

“I told you guys it was about interest,” Eddie said. “Right, Steve?”

Steve grinned. “Right, Eds.”

“I still can’t believe he missed the fact that you paid attention to his interests,” Max said, rolling her eyes.

Eddie shrugged. “I think he was impressed, but didn’t want to get his hopes up.”

“I mean Steve gives as good as he gets most of the time,” Max said, “but even I didn’t realize what a number they’ve done on his self-esteem until you started calling it out.”

Eddie shrugged. “I don’t think anyone realized it was affecting him. Because like you said, he can bitch with the best of them.”

“It’s some times the questions are dumb,” she said, a bit defensively.

“You talking about the vampire/Vecna comment?” Eddie asked.

She blushed. “That’s one of them, yeah.”

“Is it really that outrageous that the Upside Down might have vampires?”

She paused and thought about it. She huffed a laugh. “No I suppose not.”

Getting your jock alone. Depending on their friend group this can either be very easy (offering to do something together that the rest of the friends don’t want to do) or very difficult (having friends that are willing to go outside their comfort zone to spend time with them).

“Steve must have been a hard one to get alone,” Max said.

“Very,” Eddie agreed. “And it wasn’t just people wanting to hang out with him, it was someone or several someones wanting rides. So I had to get get creative.”

Steve showed up the government funded house with Robin in tow.

“Buckley,” he greeted warmly. “I didn’t realize you were coming, too. I only got stuff for two of us.”

Steve blushed. “We looked up the movie at work and she thought it sounded interesting. I guess I should have called before we came over.”

Robin on the other hand looked unapologetic. “It’s fine, I brought my own goodies!” She held up a bag of Twizzlers and a bottle of soda.

Eddie sighed and let them both in. He put in the movie and sat in the middle of the sofa, forcing Robin and Steve to sit on either side.

“Why do you get the middle?” Robin asked.

“My house, therefore I get the best seat,” Eddie said smugly.

Steve looked around him to look at Robin in the eye. “He’s got a point, Robs. Plus, we did surprise him with your presence.”

Robin rolled her eyes and settled into watch the movie.

Eddie had seen it before so there weren’t even anything so much as a thrill, but Robin had her hands in front of her face, fingers spread so that she close them in a hurry if she needed to.

What Eddie loved was when Steve jumped twice. Because each time he jumped, he got closer to Eddie. By the time the ominous warning came at the end he was practically glued to Eddie’s side.

“Nope, nope, nope...” Robin said. “Never again. I don’t even like old horror, I’ve decided.”

Eddie shrugged. “I mean I was assuming that Steve and I were going to watch it together and he was going to preview it for you. Like he usually does.”

Robin’s jaw dropped as she looked at a smug Eddie and a Steve that had “I told you so” written all over his face. It wasn’t mocking or cruel.

She crumpled. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have crashed your movie night. It was mean and apparently stupid. I won’t be doing that again, that’s for sure.”

“How the hell did Steve not recognize his own moves when thrown directly in his face?” Max asked, rolling her eyes.

“Obliviousness is their best trait after all,” Eddie teased. But the smile slid from his face. “With Steve?”

“Yes,” she said, realizing he was about to drop something deep about the boy she considered her brother.

“I think it’s because in all the time he’s dated, he’s never once been the one that got taken care of,” he murmured. “He’s had to shoulder all the emotional burden. So cuddling up on the sofa watching a scary movie didn’t register because he’s always watched those kind of movies alone first and never had someone to lean on when he got frightened.”

“That sucks,” she deadpanned. “I’m glad he has you, Eddie.”

“Me too,” he said softly. “Me too.”

Now that you’ve established that there won’t be any further interference from the best friend, set up a regular time to do the activity. That way it becomes a routine that when asked if they’re doing something at that time, they’ll say they have plans.

“Come on, Steve,” Dustin said. “We want to go to the arcade today, they’re having a two-for-one special on pizza when you buy a game pass.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I told you have plans. Ask someone else.”

Dustin let out an exasperated sigh. “We did. We asked Eddie, but he has plans, too!”

Steve raised an eyebrow.

“You know, we call our jocks oblivious,” Max said, “but their friends can certainly be dense fuckers too.”

Eddie laughed. “I know, right?”

She shook her head. “Who did they think you had plans with?”

Eddie shrugged. “My bandmates would be my guess.”

“But then you would have said that,” she said exasperated. “Who did they think Steve had plans with?”

Eddie laughed.

“Robin will be fine if you don’t spend every waking moment with her,” Dustin continued, rolling his eyes. “When was the last time you went to the arcade with us?”

Steve’s other eyebrow shot up. “Last week, dude. And the week before that. I have plans. Both Mike and Will have siblings that drive. Hell, now that Argyle is back in town, I bet he would love to try out the arcade, he’s never been.”

Dustin looked leery. Steve threw his arms in the air and stormed over to the phone. He pulled the rolodex of party numbers that he kept on the counter closer to him and hit “A”. It went to Argyle’s number and he dialed it.

“Bro!” Argyle greeted.

“Hey, it’s Steve,” he said with a smile.

“My dude,” Argyle said cheerfully. “How can I help you on this fine fine day?”

“Hey, the kids wanted to go to the arcade today,” Steve explained, “But Eddie and I have plans, so I was wondering if you wanted to go. They have a special on pizza today and they wanted in on that.”

“You said the magic word, my dude!” Argyle said. “Pizza is my middle name. I just don’t know where the nugs live.”

“You know where I live, though, right?” Steve asked.

“Of course, man,” Argyle said with a grin. “Biiiig house. Hard to forget.”

Steve laughed. “You can pick Dustin up here and then he can direct you to the other ‘nugs’ houses.”

“Sounds totally awesome, my man!” Argyle said happily. “I’ll there in fifteen.”

Steve hung up and turned to Dustin with a raised eyebrow. “Now was that so difficult?”

Dustin sighed. “No...”

“I remember that!” Max said. “Argyle brought Jonathan and they were way more fun then with Steve because they didn’t try and mother hen us.”

Eddie laughed. “He just gets worried because he’s seen you guys in way too many situations that were literally life or death. It kinda skews things.”

Max clicked her tongue. “That’s fair.” She paused for a moment. “So we’ve established a routine, what’s next?”

Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @this-is-mycrisis @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @chaoticlovingdreamer @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @artiststarme @steddie-there @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @thebrazilianatheist @rozzieroos @whalesharksart @mightbeasleep

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #1000 followers #ladykailtiha writes

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haddonfieldwhore · 1 year

Text

look after you - mjf

mjf x gender neutral! cole! reader

word count: 2.9k

warnings: injury (concussion), mostly fluff, probably ooc for max idk i’m trying. for simplicity i’m using ring names, slightly nsfw at the end

summary: when you sustain a concussion during a match, someone has to watch over you. who better than your older brothers new bff?

your vision blurred as you were slammed onto the canvas, your head hitting it harder than it was supposed to. you were supposed to get up and move to do the next spot- supposed to kick out of the pin, but you couldn’t find the strength to move, instead you eyes fluttered closed as your chest rose and fell heavily with each breath.

it should’ve been like any other match- it was only a power bomb- a simple move that just went slightly wrong. you couldn’t even remember who your opponent had been, your head was spinning so fast. you heard the bell signalling that the match had been ended prematurely, but it sounded like it miles away.

officials rushed over to check on you, and you could feel their hands carefully lifting you onto a stretcher and taking you out of the ring to medical. you could tell people were talking around you, but couldn’t hear what they were saying as you drifted out of consciousness, and everything around you went black.

•••

when you woke up, you were in your hotel room, the bright lights had been turned off so that the only light in the room was lamp on the side table. your head was pounding, but you managed to sit up on your own, albeit slowly, and take a look around. to your surprise, you weren’t alone; none other than maxwell jacob friendman sat in the arm chair in the corner of the room, his head on his shoulder as he slept. max had become friends with your older brother adam in the last few months, and while you were still wary of max due to his reputation as a bit of a scumbag - how much of that was his character you weren’t sure- you had no personal issue with him. if you were correct, he was around your age, maybe a year or two older, and you had been a little surprised at how fast he and adam had become friends.

max seemed to notice that you were awake, as he stirred in his seat.

“hey- how’re you feeling?” he asked, walking over to the side of the bed to check on you.

“i have a headache but i’ll live,” you sighed. “don’t take this the wrong way but-“

“what am i doing here?” he laughed, and you nodded, regretting the decision instantly as pain shot through your head. max placed a hand gently on your shoulder, before seemingly realizing what he’d done and removing it.

“take it easy. the doctor said you need supervision for 48 hours, and your brother asked me if i could keep an eye on you since he’s at home with britt this weekend,” he explained. “but if you’re uncomfortable with it i’m sure we could find someone else to-“

“no not at all. i just didn’t expect to see you when i woke up you know? we’ve hardly talked,” you replied, and then realized that may have come across as rude. “but i am grateful, it’s nice of you to do this for adam.”

“we’re brochacos for life,” he smiled, and you couldn’t help but think that he looked cute when he had a genuine smile on his face instead of the usual cocky smirk.

“i’m assuming if i’m not in the hospital i can’t be hurt too bad,” you thought aloud, and max nodded, pointing to the end of the bed silently asking permission to sit. you pulled your feet up under you to sit cross legged and he took it as a yes.

“yeah, somehow just a minor concussion. you should be back to kicking ass in a few weeks. just gotta take it easy and avoid bright lights for a few days.”

“i can do that,” you sighed contently, relieved to hear it wasn’t a more serious injury.

“we were all really worried about you. that bump looked really fucking scary,” he admitted, and you felt even more grateful that you were in as good a condition as you were. a smile crossed your face.

“maybe it has something to do with the wonderful nurse i have,” you teased, gesturing to max, who mocked offence.

“please, you wish you could see me in one of those little nurse outfits- i would look fantastic,” he joked.

“i don’t think they really wear those anymore. or you just have a perverted idea of it.” you both laughed, and you found yourself enjoying his company more than you expected. you trusted you brothers judgment, and if he was friends with him you knew that max must have some redeeming qualities. it also helped that he was so handsome,

“you should get some sleep, it’s late,” max said, and you glanced over at the clock, seeing that it read 2:05 am. even though you had just slept for almost 4 hours, you were exhausted. your eyes landed on the uncomfortable looking arm chair in the corner of the room, and you felt bad thinking about max having to sleep in it. your room unfortunately didn’t have a couch or pull out bed but it was a king sized bed, so there was more than enough room for two people.

“you don’t have to sleep in that chair. it’s probably terrible for your back and i would feel bad making you sleep there after you’re being so nice and taking care of me,” you offered.

“it’s not a big deal; and i don’t know how much adam would appreciate-“

“adam doesn’t have to know. besides, it’s not like that,” you rolled your eyes, and max smiled.

“thanks,” he said softly. he stood up, pulling his hoodie over his head, leaving him in a black tank top, a good chain around his neck. he walked over to the other side of the bed, and sat down before switching off the lamp, leaving the room dark. you both laid down, the large bed leaving a comfortable amount of space between you as you found yourself drifting off to sleep with ease.

“goodnight, y/n,” you heard max softly say, but you were too tired to reply, already nearly asleep.

•••

sometime around 10 am, you began to stir awake, not yet conscious enough for your brain to register the feeling of arms around your waist. your head hurt significantly less than it had last night, and you shifted slightly, before you felt yourself being pulled closer to max, who you realized had at some point in the night, pulled your back against his chest and caged you safely in his arms. you knew you shouldn’t, but you found yourself enjoying it; he was so warm that you couldn’t help but turn over in his arms, curling into his chest as he hummed slightly, still asleep as he tucked you under his chin. you couldn’t have got up if you wanted to now, tightly in his embrace as he koala hugged you, and you felt yourself fall back to sleep.

max woke up about an hour later, and looked down to see you securely in his arms, and his heart sped up. this wasn’t supposed to happen- what would adam think if he saw this? of course nothing like that had happened, it was just sleeping; but would adam believe that? would anyone? the worst part is how much he enjoyed waking up next to you. while agreeing to watch over you had not been an elaborate attempt to get in your bed, but he would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it before. he knew it was wrong, your brother being his best and only friend after all, but he couldn’t stop himself from the growing attraction he had to you, and it was only getting worse the more time he spent with you. how the hell was he supposed to survive 24 more hours alone with you? max felt you move slightly in his arms, but rather than waking up, you nuzzled into his chest more, and at that moment he realized just how screwed he truly was.

max placed a soft kiss to your forehead, and this time you did wake up, and he was worried he had fucked up. but as your eyes opened and you looked up at him, he was relieved when you didn’t freak out. instead, you mumbled a soft ‘good morning’, and max let you out of his grip.

“how’s your head?” he asked, and you smiled before responding.

“i haven’t had any complaints,” you smirked, and it only took max a second to get the joke. he laughed, rolling his eyes as you sat up against the headboard.

“very funny.”

“i feel a lot better. i think sleeping definitely helped,” you gave a real answer now, and he smiled a genuine smile again as he looked up at you, still laying with his head on the pillow. “is the bed more comfortable than the chair?”

“definitely,” he scoffed. “it could have something to do with the cute teddy bear i had.” you felt your cheeks heat up, and you grabbed the pillow from behind you and whacked him with it. he laughed again, the pillow over his face before he moved it to his chest, and a comfortable silence fell over the room.

“adam…” you started.

“doesn’t need to know,” he finished the thought you were having. you nodded, thankful that it didn’t hurt your head this time.

“do you want to order breakfast?” you asked, carefully standing up for the first time since the match. max noticed you wobbling, and rushed out of bed to offer a shoulder to you. “i guess chivalry isn’t dead,” you teased.

“what can i say i’m a gentleman,” he smirked, helping you over to the chair in the corner.

“thank you,” you said, as he passed you the room service menu. “i was right - this chair is awful,” you laughed, confirming your suspicions having now actually sat in the rock hard piece of furniture.

“yeah, i think i might’ve lost years off my career if i slept in it,” max laughed, rubbing the side of his neck as if imagining the stiffness he would’ve felt. you continued reading the menu options until you found something you wanted, and then extended the paper to max.

“do you know what you want?”

“do i,” he mumbled. he was distracted looking at you and hadn’t meant to say it out loud. you looked at him funny, assuming you had just misheard him and honestly thinking nothing of it. “uh no i have to look at the menu.” he cleared his throat.

“here,” you smiled, and he took it from your hand before sitting on the end of the bed. as he looked over the food options, you couldn’t stop yourself from admiring him. how did he look so good first thing in the morning? his brown curls were slightly messy, and his sweatpants hung low on his hips. you were sure you looked horrible in comparison, and decided to try to walk on your own to the bathroom. max looked up at the movement in his peripheral vision, and offered to help again.

“i’m okay - i’m gonna have to figure out how to stand on my own at some point. unless you’re going to help me shower?” you joked, and max raised his eyebrows, and you swore his cheeks turned a light shade of pink.

“i mean if you NEEDED me to i-“ he teased, grin on his face. you had much better luck walking on your own this time, and managed to make it all the way to the bathroom door, grabbing a change of clothes from your suitcase on the way by.

“nice try, friedman,”

“just trying to be helpful,” he smiled, and you shook your head.

“you can go ahead and order the food; i’ll just have whatever you’re having. they should just charge it to my room but if they don’t my card is in my wallet,” you pointed to your bag on the dresser, before stepping into the bathroom.

“just yell if you need anything,” max offered, before grabbing the phone to order the room service. he heard the water turn on, and after he had ordered gave his credit card number - no way in hell he was using yours.

after he hung up, max flopped dramatically onto the bed, landing on his stomach with his face in the pillow. he noticed it smelled slightly of your body spray, and groaned softly. get it together, he thought to himself, but the thought of you in the shower was doing nothing to help his brain from thinking all too much.

•••

you turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, feeling a lot better after letting the hot water relax your muscles. you wrapped a towels around your body and dried off before putting on your clean clothes, a simple t shirt and some shorts since you would be staying in the hotel room all day. deciding in the mirror that your appearance was acceptable, you walked out of the bathroom to find max laying face down in the bed.

“what are you doing,” you asked, laughing slightly.

“i’m relaxing- what does it look like i’m doing?” he replied, and you walked over to the side of the bed next to him. he rolled over so he was looking up at you, and sat up with his back against the headboard. “the food should be here soon.”

“awesome. want to find a movie to watch? you can pick since you’re stuck here with me,” you offered.

“you feel up to staring at a tv screen for 2 hours?” he asked, and you realized you hadn’t really thought about that.

“good point. i think i’m fine, if my head starts to hurt i’ll close my eyes,” you promised. max looked at you unsure, but sighed.

“fine, but don’t push yourself. come here,” he said, gesturing for you to sit next to him, and you resisted the urge to curl into his side. what had gotten into you, you thought.

•••

the food had arrived and been eaten, a movie playing on tv that you weren’t really paying attention to. it wasn’t really bothering your head thankfully, but the constant thought of how close max was to you was plaguing your mind, the scent of his expensive cologne driving you crazy. you decided to make the most of the opportunity, and rested your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes. he looked down at you, immediately wrapping his arm around your back to hold you close.

“you okay? is it bothering your head?” he asked. “i’ll turn it off.”

“it’s okay, can you just turn it down a little? i’m just gonna close my eyes for a minute,” you mumbled, and max turned the sound nearly to mute, before you felt him pull you into his lap, your legs over his sideways. you were a little surprised, but nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck, a without thinking, placed a gentle kiss below his jaw. you both froze, and you pulled back to read his expression. you began to apologize, when his finger reached forward to gently hold your chin. you nodded softly, before max leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours. he tasted sweet, a hint of maple syrup on his tongue from breakfast, and you felt your heart skip a beat. he kissed you so gently, like you were made of glass, and when you finally separated, you both stared at each other, catching your breath.

“i-“

“i’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” max admitted, his cheeks flushed, and you were sure yours matched.

“really?” you asked, surprised.

“uh, yeah?” he said, like it was obvious. “god, adam would kill me if he could read minds.” you laughed, leaning forward to kiss him again, gently nibbling at his bottom lip. his hands landed on your hips and adjusted your position to straddle his lap, the blanket gathering around your waist.

“adam’s not here,” you pointed out. max screwed his eyes shut.

“i’m starting to think that you’re a very bad influence,” he groaned, his voice a little deeper than usual.

“how can i be a bad influence on someone who calls themselves the devil?” you asked. his fingertips dig into your sides,

“i’m trying really hard to behave myself right now, but you’re not making it easy….” he trailed off, looking up at you as he breathed heavily.

“i don’t know what you’re-“ you played dumb before he interrupted you with another kiss, rougher than the previous ones. his teeth tugged at your bottom lip, before his tongue slipped past and explored your mouth. you moaned into the kiss, and max bucked his hips upwards slightly at the sound. he pulled away, breathing heavily as he apologized.

“i’m sorry- i don’t think we should do this right now. i really don’t want to hurt you.” he admitted, and you could tell that it pained him to say it. you kissed him one more time, gently again, as if to say you understood.

“you’re probably right. i’m sorry.”

“it’s okay. don’t think i don’t want to,” he assured you, and you nodded. curling into his side again, you rested your head back on his shoulder, kissing him on the cheek quickly before you closed your eyes.

“thank you for taking care of me,” you mumbled, feeling sleepy again. max pressed a kiss to your forehead, and you hummed softly.

“anytime. although, maybe next time you don’t have to get a concussion to convince me to spend time with you,” he teased, and you playfully punched his ribs. “okay, okay, sorry.” his hand rested on your thigh, his fingertips drawing little shapes and patterns on your bare skin.

“deal.”

#mjf #mjf x reader #mjf imagine #mjf fic #maxwell jacob friedman #maxwell jacob friedman x reader #aew

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edwardallenpoe · 2 months

Text

Hey. Just wanted to put my two cents in, like everyone else on Tumblr dot com is. (It got pretty long so putting it under a cut)

I don't really care about what you think should happen to the fandom. Like. If you are going to continue to engage in the fandom without giving Neil any sort of gain is fine. I'm personally still on the fence on what the fuck to do now. But let's not make that the whole focus, yeah? What Neil allegedly did was fucking terrible. Like. Objectively worse than what JKR did when things first came out about her. Let's forget good omens and sandman and coraline for a minute (don't care if you still engage with those things or burn your copies and remove your tattoos, let's just put it down for a minute.) and try really hard to think. Because we all hated JKR. We burned her reputation to the ground. For good reason. But we can't even decide if we hate Neil Gaiman yet? Guys. Please. We have to believe all women. Plus he's a rich fucking white dude who has admitted to using his power for gain.

And if it turns out (which this is a 8% chance) that this is all not what it seems to be, or even all of it is fabricated, and Neil is innocent, we still gotta stop worshipping this dude. This has got to be a wakeup call that he's not some Messiah. He's a human dude in power who does the same shitty things human dudes in power do.

And I get it. You want to continue to like your stories that he helped create (key-word 'helped' bc he was a part of a team with a lot of these stories, including Sir Terry Pratchett) but me personally? I would be a massive hypocrite if I metaphorically burned my Harry Potter stories to the ground and put HP fans in my DNI because of JKR but said "separate the art from the artist" with Neil Gaiman.

And this is coming from any other Good Omens fan that became way too attached to the story. Like a lot of people have said that story helped in very. Very fucking trying times. It was my rock, some days the only thing keeping me going. The fandom has been an amazing place of creativity and community and love.

But so was Harry Potter. If you think about it. If any Good Omens fans were previous Harry Potter fans you'll know just how wide spread and open and creative and deep the hp fandom was. And this may just be me misremembering because it was a couple years ago at this point (plus everything with Neil Gaiman is still such news) but because JKR was spouting rhetoric that directly harmed us (us being majority queer and poc people) we drop-kicked hp pretty fast and focused on the artist and her shittiness.

Can we have the same attitude towards Neil? Can we separate the art from the artist long enough to fucking focus on Neil? When I say separate the art from the artist I don't mean "remove artist, continue to enjoy art" I mean "remove the art and focus on the artist, and study that motherfucker". How many video essays are their out about JKR? How many books referencing her terribleness? Without giving so much as a hint to Harry Potter?

Separate the art from the artist and focus on the artist and bringing him to justice. And believe the victims.

And yeah I can see your arguments against the source of the information and who the victims went to tell their stories, I can understand those arguments, but let's look at the data, okay? Let's look at what Scarlett and K actually said with their actual words and their actual messages and separate the source from the material. What Scarlett and K talked about is scary. Terrifying. I couldn't even read more than a little bit before I got triggered. I wasn't caring about how the source podcast was talking about it. What Scarlett and K said with their own words should be enough. Make your own judgements. If you can't look at a story without being influenced by the storyteller's hidden agenda and not have critical thinking skills????? I'm sorry but that's going to be your downfall.

Or better yet, if you can't believe victims because they have political views that differ from your own (which, they probably don't. From what I can tell nobody really fucking knows what Scarlett and K's political views are but it doesn't really matter) you need to really study and look into what you mean when you call yourself a "leftist". Because it's not very progressive or helpful to not believe or help victims because of their political views. Sorry. Is that wild for me to say? Idk

Uh anyways. I don't really care what you do in your free time when it comes to enjoying the fandoms. I don't necessarily think it makes you a terribly shitty person for still engaging in it instead of burning all your Neil Gaiman stories, and also like a lot of people have said (and since I'm on the same boat) treating fans like the scum of the earth when a lot of fans have had good omens as a way to escape and has become super dependent on good omens and are justifiably horrified by everything and trying to ignore it is shitty. But I'm personally going to continue to follow this story because I care about the victims. Not because I want to be guilt-free reading a fanfic about an angel and a demon. Because I care about real life people.

#neil gaiman #god I'm just so scrambled about everything #I would make a post about how it's oh so terrible because I love good omens and it's helped me so much and yadda #but this isn't about me #i can push away my things and my feelings because this isn't about me #i don't want this to be about me #i seriously think that Scarlett and K deserve better #because they're people #i don't care that Neil Gaiman is a 'huge' trans ally #he hurt people. even progressives can hurt people.#i can't tell you how many cool people I looked up to WHO WERE PROGRESSIVES that were shitty. and horrible.#like genuinely I've had to stop engaging with like. five leftists. this year.#idk. if you still enjoy sandman and good omens and coraline good for you I guess #i couldn't care less about how you spend your free time #but for the love of GOD don't promote neil. or defend him. because he wrote your favorite stories.#don't give him any sort of help and any sort of way to get farther and farther away from the justice he must be served.#and you shouldn't care about what I or others are doing with the fandom #everyone should just forget about fandom and focus on this #it's sickening. genuinely.#good omens #sandman #coraline

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ppushable · 2 months

Text

just us.

jean kirschtein x gn!reader / oneshot / wc: 9.4k

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

It's the last summer of high school and it's time to grow up. Too bad I have to do it without you.

Nights like this I wish could last forever: just us in the rain.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

ao3 tags:

FUCK / Alternate Universe - High School / or the tail end of it / Reader-Insert / gender neutral reader / How Do I Tag / Kissing / Angst / Fluff and Angst / Growing Up / Separations / Rain / Late Night Conversations / POV First Person / Present Tense / Pining / French-Speaking Jean Kirstein / Reader is emotional / theres some music for this too / Don't Examine This Too Closely

to make some things clear:

it's the last summer after high school (i.e. about to enter university)

based in canada which is basically the us but it doesn't really matter

reader is gender neutral (let me know if something seems off)

we don't know Connie in this one

i also got some songs which i thought fit the mood based on what was playing as i wrote. the songs will be indicated (==) in the writing. here's the queue:

dream, ivory; dream, ivory

heart to heart; mac demarco

little person; matt maltese

cry; cigarettes after sex

everything; the black skirts

if you're on iphone, i recommend doing the rain sounds when it rains, but it's up to you. without further ado ♥

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

== dream, ivory

The rock I’ve been kicking skids off the edge of the sidewalk, into the dark grass. I already miss the feeling of its bump against my foot. I’m going to miss a lot of things. Even before I finish the thought the familiar feeling of dread rises up from the depths of my gut.

Shush.

Jean’s face is illuminated harshly directly below the streetlight, hair glowing as if powdered in some otherworldly dust, shadows hard and soft defining and redefining themselves as we walk. Aimless wandering, that’s all we’re doing, but I’d rather be doing this than anything else. I’d rather be with him.

I almost miss the signature little smirk on his face mid-head turn but double take in time to see it grow.

“What? You like what you see?”

Well, yeah.

But I stick the side of my finger against his teeth and he squirms. “Wh— hey! What was that?” There’s a chuckle between those words, though, and it makes me want to crack open like a stupid little egg and pour out all the feelings I have for him onto this very concrete, cover it with my devotion, stain it forever and ever. But all that comes out is a laugh and that’ll have to be enough.

“You’re annoying, you know that?”

“I was just asking you an honest question!” He holds up his hand as if preaching. “Honest to god, hand on the bible.”

Okay, Jean. “And if I said no?”

He has the nerve to look offended. “Then I’d know you’re lying.”

“Fff,” I huff, and I have to turn away because the grin on my face is at a dangerous level. “This boy. You’re too full of yourself.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Jean says smugly. “But you like me that way, don’t you?” His arm hooks my waist to pull me closer and I do the same, gripping the back of his Stohess University hoodie. At this point this position is second nature — no more awkward touching or not-so-subtle shifting. Now we’re like… two stones in a river that just happen to fit together like pieces of a puzzle. That’s right, us, the walking pebbles, down the dark streets of 3 AM that would be scary under any other circumstance.

Happy as can be.

Until summer ends, at least.

Sometimes I want to rip that hoodie off him and tear it into a million pieces, destroy the place that wants to take him from me so badly. But it makes him happy. It makes him really fucking happy. And who am I to take that away from him?

“Hey,” he says, and I loosen my grip on the thick cloth before he notices the pulling.

“Yeah?”

I feel his voice, a low hum against my side, just as much as I hear it. “What’re you thinking about?”

The windows of the houses around us are empty, void. It’s strange, isn’t it? To think that in every house is a different life, multiple lives which I’ll never know. An entire life with emotions and memories and experiences and desires. A human animal. “You, of course.”

He doesn’t respond at first and when we pass under another streetlight his face is a little redder than before, all across his nose and cheeks and ears, and it takes a lot not to stop right there and throw myself on him. I love it when he does that, when he proves that his bad-boy front is just that. A front. “Hah. What a flirt.”

Leaning in, I say, “I learned it from the best, didn’t I?”

“So you’re—” his face pulls even closer, and we stop under the broken buzz of a streetlight— “calling me a flirt.”

My feet scrape the concrete as I turn on the spot and drape my arms over his shoulders. Trepidation lines my bones and leeches into my legs, drop by drop. “Maybe,” I say, and I feel the air of my breath off his reddened skin. Gorgeous, gorgeous. I wait for him to close the little distance between us, which might as well have been no distance at all, because when we touch, when I feel the familiar, burning warmth of his lips pressing against mine, I… I forget what I was thinking about.

I claw for his neck, the hair I begged him to grow out that I know will look so good on him, I need us to be closer, and he knows, pulling my body into his with his arms against the curve of my back, chest to chest, pelvis to hardening pelvis. I huff into his mouth from the sudden pressure and Jean takes me up again immediately after the brief separation without a breath to spare with a little moan, leading me stumbling backwards to god knows where but I trust him. I love the way the world just goes. My back hits something hard and I grunt from pain which just makes Jean snap and double down harder, reach further, a futile attempt to satisfy the beastly desire in my core that grows with every passing second.

“Ah…”

I love his hand lowering to the small of my back, the way it trembles, the way it goes lower. The other slides under my shirt, roaming well-travelled areas, but that doesn’t make it any less enticing. I cling to the back of his head like my life depends on it because it very well might, following his every small movement like it’s the guiding star. He opens up for a quick huff of air and I use this opportunity to take the reins; to plunge deeper.

I love how his hair feels. And when I pull it just right he makes a helpless noise into my mouth and oh fuck I could fold for him right now.

I love how disgusting we are. Probing every part of each other with our tongues. The little pits in the skin of his cheeks. Heat in my core. Heat in my brain. Heat between our bodies. The taste of him.

I love how I don’t know where I end and he begins. Burning lungs. Pull harder and he groans louder and I don’t know what noise belongs to who. Can you tell dogs apart by their bark?

I love his taste. Desire for air, but greater desire for him . His hand stops now in that place he knows I love, skin to burning skin, but the other never moves, keeping me locked in place. Need to be closer. Just us.

I love his eyes, half-lidded but brimming with want. A fistful of his locks, tightening. Mind going places my hands can’t. Not here, not now.

I love…

Just when I think my heavy heart is about to give out, we separate, the heat is gone, and we gasp for air both, separating the line of drool that connects us with a blistering snap. Colours come back. My head drops to his shoulder and his warm breath lands in the sensitive crook of his neck as he lets his hand slide out of my top and return to the small of my back with the other. I keep mine firmly anchored around his neck. We pant like mutts in the street, unmoving save for the heaving of our chests. The buzzing of the streetlight returns, but it never really left, did it? We did.

I hope he likes me back as much as I do him. I hope he’s not doing this because he has to. Swallowing takes up precious time; immediately after I’m back to laboured breathing. If he’s anything but happy I’ll recede into the darkest, damndest reaches of the Earth so he can enjoy the sun. I would never tell him that, though. I hope I’m not… I hope I’m not too much.

Maybe a little too abruptly I let go of him and he does the same after a moment's delay, a little reluctantly, but I’m imagining it. I wipe my lip before smiling. “You flirt.”

Running a finger across his mouth, Jean scoffs, a hint of his softer side still showing through as if his usual act hasn’t fully hardened yet. “You started it.”

“Hardly.”

“Do I need to bring out the case files?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “Do I need to pull out the evidence?”

“Evidence being what, exactly?” I point to his pants pockets. “You have a little pocket hamster witness? Or a boob camera?”

Gasping lightly — yet still maintaining a tone of exaggeration — his arms fly up: one to cover his chest, and the other his crotch. “You’re lucky my ass doesn’t report you right now.”

Obnoxiously, I smack my lips, run my tongue over my teeth, and stick my hands in the pockets of my sweatpants. “I bet that ass can do a lot of things, princess. Walking all alone at night. Isn’t it dangerous?” I produce a crude rendering of Jean’s own smirk (to cover my own growing smile) while flipping my hair. “Let a handsome man escort you to your house.”

His act drops immediately. “Okay, you’re a little too good at this.”

I laugh.

“No, like seriously—” he raises his voice a bit to be heard clearly a smile grows on his face— “you’re creeping me out.”

“Hush, you.” With unspoken agreement we start walking again. “I need to keep up my creepy guy persona in case I’m ever approached.”

“What, your plan is to outcreep the creep?” He shakes his head. “Good luck with that one.”

I make my voice go gravelly again while making a squishing motion. “Let a man cop a feel. It’s the least you could do for all his hard work.”

“Okay, first of all, no, stop that. Secondly,” he says, pushing my hand away, “nobody’s gonna approach you as long as I’m—”

He freezes, then closes his mouth and swallows, Adam’s apple pushing back down the words unsaid. As long as I’m around . The dreadful feeling comes back like cold lead in my veins. But you’re gonna be around for long, are you, Jean?

We reach the junction directly between two streetlights, the darkest point of the sidewalk. There usually aren’t many stars where we live; regardless of the weather, city lights always blot out the little speckles in the sky that are supposed to just appear every night like in the pictures. Jean always wanted to see them. The Milky Way. The closest thing we have to a galaxy are the fluorescent glows of store signs that reflect off the bricked walls of the apartment buildings and cracked asphalt roads.

“Hey,” I murmur, linking my arm through his and pointing at the splash of white light down the street. “Let’s go over there.”

“What, the 7-11?”

“Let’s get snacks and have a picnic together.”

A little chuckle escapes him. “At this time of night?” He doesn’t allow time to respond. “Well, alright.”

The mechanical beep greets us as the door opens. As expected, the place is empty, resided only by the eye-chokingly bright junk food packages haphazardly lining the shelves. My warped figure in the security camera screen hanging from the ceiling holds open the door for Jean and he steps through. He hasn’t been properly illuminated in a while so I take the opportunity to drink him in a little. There’s some darkness under his eyes and the scruff beginning to grow on his chin is getting longer than he prefers it (shaved off completely). His jaw clenches and unclenches seemingly at random as if he’s chewing gum, but he’s probably biting the inside of his mouth. It’s a nasty habit of his, and it never means anything good. He’s probably stressed about university.

I sniff. Lysol. This place is a little too normal, a dip back into the waters of everyday. “Do you have your wallet?”

He stops and taps his pants pockets — first the back, then the front — and nods. “Yeah, I got my card.”

“Sugar daddy me?”

A blush rises to the occasion and he rolls his eyes with a quick “yeah” before disappearing into the aisles. He hates getting flustered (but loves to inflict it on me) and does so at the weirdest things. In his own words, blushing is a ‘boner for your face.’ Okay, Jean. So what if I want to see you pop face boners. You like seeing mine, don’t you?

I scurry after him, scanning the items in his hold. “Strawberry Pocky. Black Doritos. Cola gummies.”

He holds out his arm so I can see better.

“Nothing healthy? Nothing wet?”

“Okay, first of all, it’s a 7-11. Healthiest thing here is the air quality. Second of all.” He sets his palm on top of my head. “We’re getting there, alright? And don’t say wet.”

“Nothing moist.”

The flat hand turns into a fist and knocks lightly once on my skull. “Can’t win with you, eh?”

I flick his hand away and we keep weaving through the aisles. Marshmallows.

Picking up the bag of sweets I stare at, Jean says, “we’re never gonna finish all these, y’know.”

“I know.”

“What happened to getting healthy stuff?”

“You walk so slowly that I have to pick up everything I see. Or I’ll be understimulated and die.”

“Understimulated, huh?” he muses. I look up at his face but he’s reading the wrapper. “Maybe you’re my pocket hamster. Like a lab rat. Do I need to put you in a really big maze?” He shakes the bag like it’s cat treats and shoots me a smug look. “I’ll use these instead of cheese. If you solve the puzzle right I’ll toss you one so you have something to munch on.”

I don’t dignify him with a response. Steeling my fingers, I plunge them into his front pocket.

The impact wracks through him, nearly making him drop the package. “Wh—”

“Won’t fit.” I shake my head and wiggle my fingers. “I can’t be your pocket hamster.”

I swear a tiny bead of sweat accumulates on his cheek but he’s quick to scratch it away. “I can make you fit.”

“Really?”

His eyes narrow. “You know more than anyone that I can make things fi—”

“Oh, hey.”

My head snaps toward the new voice — it’s the cashier, appearing from a door to take his place behind the counter. His grey hair’s been buzzed short (he hovers around our age despite the colour), almost to the point of bald, and various piercings on his face gleam even in the horrible 7-11 lighting as he cocks his head. “Sorry, didn’t notice you guys come in. Need anything at all?”

“No, we’re good,” I say, subtly (I think) sliding my hand out of Jean’s pocket. Was the pocket thing too much? I overstepped again, didn’t I? “Thanks, though.”

The cashier nods once — I’m too far away to see his nametag but not the exhaustion that leaks out of him like a broken tap — and messes with something under the table. My gaze once again finds Jean’s and he looks like he’s seen a ghost which almost makes me feel like laughing. His big hand encloses mine and he leads me somewhere out of sight. Slurpee machines. They start humming as Jean lets me go and pinches the bridge of his nose as if on cue. “That was a little too close. Oh my god.” He chuckles lightly and it’s muffled. “He nearly saw us.”

When he drops his hand and meets my eye the humour disappears in a flash; gravity immediately weighs down his features. “Is something wrong? Did I say something?”

“No!” I didn’t even say anything yet and he’s already this serious. Guilt settles already; why did I make him feel bad? “No. It’s— you did nothing wrong. I’m sorry.” I shoot for a grin and hit a grimace. “I’m just kinda tired.”

“Yeah. You look tired. Darling.” The word is raspy with the breath of his throat yet also strangely tender, as if uttered through honey, and we both pause at the new label. Darling. He called me darling. It’s getting warm. “Sorry. That sounded stupid, didn’t it?”

== heart to heart

Darling . “Dont— no! It’s not stupid at all! I— um.” I put a hand on his shoulder and Jean, recognizing the cue, leans his tree of a body down so he can stare straight into my eyes. “It was really… it was really cute. You should…” I trace a crack in the floor that reveals dark grout underneath while idly tucking some of his hair behind his ear. “Use that name on me again.”

A little huff escapes him, brushes against my lips, and I’m compelled to look into those eyes again. Brown, hazel, green; depending on the lighting or weather they can be any of those colours, but I always find myself falling in regardless. There’s no reason for it. How layers of cells and pigments can trap me so hopelessly like it’s hypnosis, how even a scraping glance reminds me of our bests and worsts, how I want to look in there forever and ever, a bottomless well of all that was and could be and all that I want. “Well, since it’s got you looking all red like this, I really should.”

I just hope that you feel the same. I hope my thoughts are wrong. I hope I don’t make you uncomfortable. I hope that I can be good enough for you (but how can I)?

And I wish, I really fucking wish, that

we never lose each other

but I know it’s going to happen anyway

It’s going to happen anyway

and it hurts.

It hurts like a teddy bear on the ground in an abandoned house. A cracked picture frame. Sleepless nights with only tomorrow for comfort. Returning, over and over again, to the places I keep promising myself not to go to.

Knowing that, at some point, we’ll walk together for the last time. Kiss each other for the last time. Eat together, dance together, listen to the same song together for the last time.

So I’ll walk alone. I’ll pleasure myself. I’ll eat alone, dance alone, listen to that song until it becomes monotonous and you’ll become a stranger or a ghost or die forever and the initials so painfully carved into my heart will become fetid. Everywhere I look I’ll see your face and hear your voice and feel your warmth and smell your breath. I’ll do it, I’ll fucking do it and loathe every moment of it.

Oh, Jean, if only we could run away and gossip and lay in the sun together somewhere far away where there’s a big field and lots of flowers and a clear stream that brings us cool, fresh water and berries from the forest. Where it’s always daytime, except when it’s not, and I’ll weave flowers into your beautiful hair and you’ll do the same for me and we’ll look to the open sky, with nothing to obstruct us, no buildings, no wires, no light, and there are so many stars, beautiful and so bright, so wonderful that it’ll take your breath away like a little kid seeing dinosaurs and we’ll lay for hours in the weeds together and just look at them until the sun comes back up. And we’ll be so happy we’ll cry. Just us and nothing else.

But I know that what I want isn’t what you want. I know that. So I’ll do the right thing. I’ll do the right thing! I said I’ll do it, so leave me alone.

Now Jean’s breath rustles my hair. “Hey.”

At some point I started looking at his shoes. They’re creased and dirty. Not because he can’t afford them, but because he doesn’t know how to take care of his stuff. “Really, Jean.” I suck in a big breath disguised as a yawn to maybe disguise the wetness — sorry, moistness — of my eyes and point at his feet. “You’re like a little kid sometimes.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“So dirty.”

“My shoes? It’s only a little bit.”

I raise an eyebrow.

“It looks cool like that. Doesn’t it look cool like that?”

“Okay, Jean.” The slurpee machine hums again and I’m drawn to the mechanical whirring. Who cares if there’s rat poop or salmonella or whatever in there. I’m a little thirsty and my throat could use some loosening before I start croaking.

“It— it’s cool, right?” Jean leans against the wall, right behind the stack of cups that jut out horizontally, packed together so densely the transparent plastic becomes opaque. I slide one out of the holder and snap one of the lids out of their holders, too, and combine them before angling the cup under one of the spouts.

“I dunno, Jean,” I say, pushing down the plunger. Synthetic heaven plops into the cup, making it jump at the initial impact. I look back in time to see him get a cup of his own. “You’ll have to ask yourself that.”

“That usually means no,” he says glumly, setting his cup down to fill. “It’s fine.” He’ll be getting coke on the bottom and cherry on the top, like he always does. “I know how to use a laundry machine. Just like you taught me.”

Sliding my cup underneath a different spout, I smile. “Good boy. You’re learning so well.”

Jean watches his cup overflow.

“Oh. Jean. Jean .” I grab his wrist and take his hand off the lever. I shouldn’t have said that. “Wake up, Jean.” His face matches the artificially dyed cherry smeared over the hand he’s using to hold the cup and I laugh. “Jean, come on. We have to ask the guy for paper towels.” I pull him back in the direction we came from. “ Jean .”

“I’m coming.” He takes a few heavy steps before pulling himself together, tensed as if electrified.

The guy behind the counter has earbuds in with the wires wrapped backwards around his ears and doesn’t notice us until we’re a few paces away. He jumps and fumbles to take one out. “Uh, you guys ready to check out?” His eyes, maybe a little wider than they should be given the circumstances, are drawn to Jean’s hand. “You’re… just getting the one slurpee?”

“Uh, no, we… our stuff is back with the slurpee machine.” What am I saying? Jean’s always been the better one at talking. “We, uh, need to clean up. Paper towels!” I squeeze Jean’s hand but it seems he’s still in stupor, melted cherry slushy dripping to the floor.

“Oh,” is all the cashier says.

“Can we have some paper towels, please?” I continue. “We made a mess with the machine.”

The cashier seems to relax a bit. “Oh.”

“I’m really sorry. We’ll help clean up. Like, you don’t even need to do anything, just tell us where the paper towels are—”

“No, it’s all good, it’s my job. Plus it gets pretty boring here y’know?” He smiles and his teeth are crooked. “I’ll grab ‘em.” And he disappears behind the employee-only door.

I wait a second or two before elbowing Jean lightly.

“Ow!”

“You alright, zombie?” I ask, trying not to let too much tease slip into my voice.

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.” He looks at his slurpee-d hand, brings it to his face, and wraps his lips around the base of his thumb to slurp the area where the juice drips out. Then his mouth opens a bit more and his tongue inches out, up the side of his palm against the cup, in and out, motions intended to lap up every last drop of the juice like it was never even there in the first place. His other hand rubs firm circles into mine as he goes back to licking the base of his thumb, making small slurping noises. “Mmm,” he moans as he runs his tongue from his hand to the tip of the cup, and now I realize his smug eyes have been on me the whole time, “tastes good. Un goût de paradis. ”

“You didn’t pay for that,” I say as flatly as possible without bursting on the spot.

“It’s fine, it’s just the drops.” He smirks. “You’d change your mind if you knew what it tasted like.”

“And what does it taste like?”

“Maybe,” his leer deepens as he leans in, pulling my hand gently, “I could show you. But…” he pulls back at the last second. “Nah!”

It smacks me in the face like a dead fish. “You— Kirsch—” use your big girl words!— “bastard.”

He chuckles as something metal drops behind the door; another few seconds and the cashier comes back out with a thick roll of the brown paper towels they use in bathrooms (the ones that can’t absorb for shit). “Sorry about the wait,” he huffs, one earbud still clinging to his ear as the other dangles from the neckline of his green uniform. “Hard to find anything in there.” He opens a little side door to get out from behind the counter and his feet drag a little as he walks toward the slurpee machines. Looking over his shoulder, he says, “you guys are coming, right?”

“Right behind you.” Jean calls, this time leading me back.

The cashier tears some of the paper and starts mopping up some of the stuff on the grill, though only succeeds in pushing the little chunks that are left into the gutter. He clicks his tongue and starts murmuring Spanish obscenities.

“Here.” Jean hands me a piece of paper towel and I take it, getting to work on the ground. The cashier shuffles aside to make room and I utter a quick thanks. As expected, the towels don’t really absorb, but push the liquid around.

“Maybe you should lick this up, too,” I tease as Jean kneels beside me.

“Funny.”

But we do manage to clean it up. We toss the soiled paper into a hole built into the slurpee counter for garbage as the cashier continues to scrape the grill. He sighs, bringing his hand up while balling up the napkin and letting it slap against the side of his thigh. “No use here, I’ll get it later. But, uh, thanks for helping out.” Nodding, he tosses the garbage at the garbage hole and misses.

Jean bats it in for him. “No problem, man.”

He nods again. I can see his name tag, now that he’s closer:

CONNIE

“It was nothing, really,” I smile. “Thanks, Connie.”

“I’ll be at the counter when you guys’re ready.” He returns the gesture before shuffling away.

“Well.” Jean collects our little hoard. “You think this is enough?”

Pocky, gummies, chips, marshmallows. And the slurpees. “I know that’s enough.” I cling to his arm like a parasite. “Let’s go.”

Jean pays, we say our goodbyes to Connie, and then we leave. Back to the buzzing and the empty sky, just the same as before, except with food and a vague destination in mind.

“You know,” I say, swallowing the slurpee still in my mouth, “did that guy seem familiar? Or is it just me?”

“The cashier?”

“Yeah, Connie.”

“Huhh…” Jean licks his lips which are already cherry red. “I don’t think I’ve seen him around school before. But you’re right, he does seem familiar. It’s weird.”

“Maybe,” I muse, throwing him a teasing look, “in another life, you guys did laundry and taxes together.”

“No way,” he chuckles. “We definitely would’ve done something cooler together. Like, fight giants, or something.”

“Giants.” I grin. “Tell me about these giants.”

He shrugs. “They’re big. And they’re naked all the time.”

“Wooow.”

“What?” he laughs. “They don’t have enough cloth to make clothes so they just go naked all the time! Except in Malaysia.”

“What?”

“And they run really weird, and the girl giants have these—” he charades huge boobs— “giant tits—”

“What about the guy giants?”

He pauses. “They don’t have anything.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing at all?”

He scowls. “Why do you wanna know so bad?”

“Nothing.” I shrug. “Are the giants good-looking, at least?”

“The important ones are.”

“Hmm.” I take another slurp. “So I could have a cute, important, constantly naked, big tiddie giant girlfriend.”

“No.”

“Huh?”

“All the giants wanna eat people.”

“Eat people, huh? I can live with that.”

Jean snorts and rolls his eyes. “Okay.”

We walk in silence until the next streetlight. “On second thought,” I start, “I think, in another life, you guys would survive the zombie apocalypse together.”

“Zombie apocalypse,” Jean echoes. “Why do I feel like I’d die first?”

“You almost do. But Connie sacrifices himself for you.”

He hmms . “Then you’d be part of the secondary group of survivors that ends up betraying the main force.”

“That’s weirdly specific. So I end up betraying you?”

“It’s okay because we join forces in the end.” He shrugs. “Either that or I charm you to our side.”

I grin. “You do, do you.”

== little person

The walk to the park is a short one, and before long the entrance is visible down the void road. A cold drop lands on my hand.

“Huh, we’re almost there.” Jean shifts the bags of chips in hand — the pocky is in his pocket. “Then—” his eye twitches strangely— “ah! Did a bird just shit in my eye?”

“What?” I sputter as another drop lands on my cheek. “There’s no birds. I think it’s raining.”

Blinking hard, Jean utters, “rain?”

We look up at the same time. The sky is no longer cloudless, and the familiar pitter-patter emanates from the roofs around us. We look back at each other.

Well, shit.

“It’s not that bad,” I start. Jean opens his mouth to reply but something suddenly falls on my head.

Rather, a downpour of rain, like water from a bucket, pushes me down. It’s loud! Loud like firecrackers.

“Holy shit!” Jean squawks, barely heard above the sound of rain. “No! My slurpee!”

The coke and cherries is on the ground now, cratering with every heavy raindrop that lands in it. I snatch his now-free hand.

“Forget it! We have to go!”

His face is devastated, but he nods. No recovery. I jut my head in the direction of the park; he nods again, and we make a break for it.

Being the taller one, Jean could easily outpace me, but we run side by side, feet sloshing first in the asphalt then in the grass as we finally make it to the park. “There!” he cries, pointing at the nearest tree that looks like it could provide some decent cover. I run until I feel my legs are going to give out and we crash under the leafy cover like it’s the finish line to a marathon, not letting go of each other even when our clasped hands crack into the tree’s trunk and we smack into each other on the other side with the full force of our momentum.

“Hooo!” Jean huffs. There’s no light in the park but I still can’t miss the wild look in his eyes, the way his hair drips and sticks to his forehead, just long enough to brush his upturned eyebrows. “You alright?”

“Yeah!” I cheer, feeling a laugh bubbling out. There’s no houses here, and probably no people. Who cares anyway? The sudden escapade snapped me into a different state. “Yeah, I’m good! Are you okay?”

“I’m soaked!” His huffs turn into a laugh and he waves vaguely at the sky. “So much for a picnic, huh?”

I blink a few times, then open my eyes wide. There’s no lights installed at the park, at least none that are on at this hour, but even in the pitch dark I know where the main areas are. “Why don’t we go to the pavilion?” I yell, turning back to face him.

“Mmp!” Jean pulls his head back, but not quick enough. “As you wish, darling,” he garbles quickly, wiping the corner of his mouth.

My jaw drops and I hold up my cup. The juice is now half of its original volume. “You little—” Without thinking, I swing the bag of marshmallows at his head but he blocks it easily with his arm.

“I couldn’t help it!” he bursts, dribbling a small amount onto the mulch floor with a splat .

The words die in my throat as we stare at the regurgitation. A moment later Jean takes off and I swear I see the raindrops fly off.

“Jean!” What choice do I have? I pursue.

The thief never strays more than a few feet ahead, allowing me a few more rain-laced swings before a picnic bench suddenly appears in front of us. At the last minute Jean manages to slam his feet onto the bench part and leap onto the table, but I don’t lift my knees high enough and the wood dings my shins and before the pain has time to register the soaked, half-rotten tabletop screams toward me

and when it’s supposed to hurt, it doesn’t.

Vision isn’t required to know that my face is squished up against Jean’s palms which cushion me from the wood. His wet hands peel off and travel to my shoulders. “Shit! Are you okay?”

Now my legs hurt. I blink at his blurry face and put my hands over his. The stuff I was carrying is on the ground now; I’m kneeling on the bench. “You saved me.”

“Of course.”

“Even though I hit you with marshmallows.”

“Darling.” He takes my hands in his, clasping them between our bodies. We’re soaked thoroughly now; the sweater I have stupidly unzipped weighs down heavily on my shoulders and rainwater constantly runs into my eyes and the valley of my lips, while Jean’s bangs are plastered to his forehead, eyelashes clumped together, and rain drips from the end of his nose onto our hands. “I would save you if it killed me.”

Then save me now.

Tell me you won’t accept that program at Stohess. Tell me we can go away somewhere far, far enough to avoid going to a school I don’t want for a degree I don’t want for a future I don’t want.

At the very least, tell me I can find the strength to break away from it all and make something decent out of this life that I’ve forcefully been granted.

How do you do it? How do you forge your own path, create a light that’s so blinding it renders me a moth? How do you find the courage?

I bring the bundle of our hands close to my face, let my breath run down the slick side of the back of Jean’s palm. “I would do the same for you.” And gently, as if handling the most precious jewel, I press my lips against the ridge of his knuckles and whisper, “ mon chéri. ”

Rain continues to fall in that familiar, comforting hum as it patters softly onto the grass and soil and leaves and wood. Jean stays silent for so long and if not for the look in his eyes I would think he didn’t hear me at all. But his lips crack open, and it takes a few tries for him to say what he wants.

“I… I wish…” His Adam’s apple bobs and rests precariously on his throat, holding the power of the things left unsaid. “I wish you’d finally admit that you’re a bigger flirt than I am.”

Out of reflex I scoff and release myself from his grasp to pull some hair off my face, covering the blow of his sudden change of heart that makes my insides feel as if they’d been scraped on hot concrete and poured back in. “You’re insane, Kirschtein.” No, it’s stupid and selfish of me to expect him to say something.

Shrugging plainly, he rubs his palms against his knees as if to dry them (ha ha), but gets up a moment later to pick some things off the grass. He returns a moment later with the pocky and gummies and drops them on the table before dropping down himself. The pocky box is soggy. “Let’s have our picnic right here.”

I shoot him a skeptical look which I hope he sees. “In the rain?”

“I know it’s your favourite weather.” His voice is soft and he speaks as if he had committed a grave sin.

“What if you get sick?” Now I remember to zip up my sweater.

His eyes follow the movement. “I can take care of myself.”

Fat chance of that, boy. “What if I get sick?”

“I’ll take care of you.”

I take a seat beside him on the table, feet on the bench. “And if we both get sick?”

He smiles a little. “Then I can hold you without worrying about transferring anything.”

“And you’re not a flirt.”

“What—” he opens the pack of gummies with a plastic crackle— “ever,” and sets the package between our bodies.

These are Jean’s favourite snacks. I’m sure he’s gotten sick by eating too many of these before, but he was convinced it was something else he ate. Idly, he pops one in his mouth, and I follow suit. They do taste good, though.

“Wonder if anyone’s ever been here this late,” Jean mumbles as I open the pocky.

“I’m sure they have. And I’m sure they will be.” I draw a length of the strawberry-coated stick like a sword and crunch. “None of them are idiotic enough to have a picnic when it’s raining, though, so we’re probably a first for that.”

He chuckles. “Pioneers, I’m sure.”

We eat in silence. The rain slows down, but doesn’t let up.

What am I doing here? What’s even the point of this? It’s only going to hurt me more, spending time with a ghost like this.

“Jean.”

“Hm?”

“Do you know the pocky game?”

“Hmm?”

“You know.” I stick one of the candies in my mouth and point to the other end.

Jean only looks more confused, and, resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I pry open his lips with two fingers and probe him with the pink tip. A strange and perhaps exaggerated noise gargles out of him — the candy slips from my grasp and falls.

“What the heck!” He bristles like a cat, even in the rain. “Stop laughing!”

“You’re— you’re supposed to bite it,” I choke. “Why do you look so scared?”

“I was just surprised .” He shimmies another stick out. “Let’s do it again. It’s just like Lady and the Tramp, right? Come on, let’s do it. Stop that!”

My attempt to stifle the giggles is piss-poor and Jean knows it. But I stop when I feel him grasp my chin and turn my head toward him.

“So,” he says slowly around the pocky in his mouth, “are we gonna do this?”

Smiling, I bite the other end, and then we’re connected. The stick vibrates as Jean starts to nibble, and when I follow suit he puts his hand down. We inch closer—

Crunch!

Our eyes widen.

Wordlessly, Jean lets go of his end of the stick, finds the source of the disturbance, and holds it up sheepishly.

The entire bag of pocky, compressed to dust under his palm.

“Whoops.”

I stare.

“I’m sorry.”

I push the remainder of our pocky in my mouth and chew.

“Fuck, I’ll— we can go back to the store and get another box. Hey. Don’t turn away…”

Wow, that tree over there sure looks interesting.

“Forgive me?”

I turn back. He looks absolutely crushed. (As he should.)

“I know they’re your favourite.” His head hangs. “I’ll…” Without warning, he grabs the bag of gummies and dumps the sweets on the ground. They tumble and disappear from view.

What!

“There. Now we’re even.” He looks up and smiles, shaking the plastic.

“What— Jean— what’d you do that for?”

“I wanted us to be in the same boat. It’s my fault for destroying the pocky anyway… and both of our slurpees… and I stepped on the chips when I jumped on the bench so I ruined that too. Plus I nearly got you killed.” He shrugs. “Retribution.”

My chest shrivels in on itself. “I didn’t care that much. Those were your favourite.”

“And the pocky was yours. Besides, we still have marshmallows.”

Pointing, I say, “I dropped them back there.”

“Oh.”

‘Oh’ indeed. I put my hands flat on the table behind me — despite how grimy — and lean back.

“We’re never gonna finish all these, y’know. ” Guess he was right.

One sigh turns into another, and soon I’m giggling like a schoolgirl. The rain falls all over my face, my neck, and runs down my shirt, like tiny tickling fingers. This is ridiculous. Here are two stupid dumb teenagers, at three in the morning in the rain, sitting on a bench surrounded by crushed wrappers and gummies and pocky crumbs. How does one even end up in this situation? They must be so young and in love. They must have no worries at all. Just two stupid dumb teenagers and nothing more.

Humans can only know each other so much. Words can only do so much. Actions, too.

Maybe, somewhere far away, far into the future or perhaps the past, someone will truly understand the sort of predicament I’m in.

But it’s a little selfish of me to be comforted by that thought when I don’t even try to make others understand.

“What’s so funny?”

I let my eyes roll shut. It’s a mistake to spend money on me, Jean. Just run away now before I absorb you like an amoeba. “Nothing. Nothing is funny.” Well, I don’t have to worry about that, since we’re leaving each other anyway!

It doesn’t matter. What makes you think you can sustain a healthy relationship when you obviously have your own issues? What makes you think you deserve him? You suck away at his happiness like a vampire. You make it so hard for people to be happy. You’re horrid.

The rain becomes vulgar and suddenly I hate the way it touches every inch of me.

“Hey.” Jean’s voice is soft, tentative. “Are you okay?”

The wood turns to slime under my palms. “Yeah. I’m just tired.” Maybe we should head home soon, I almost add, but I can’t. “Hey, Jean.” To my dismay, I open my eyes, and the world blinks back at me. Like it’s pissed at me for ever imagining it could disappear. But when I look at him it makes everything a little bit better.

== cry

Piece of shit.

A deep booming emanates from the ground like a great burrowing beast about to snap out but it’s just distant thunder.

“Yeah?” He’s in the same position I’m in, leaned back, eyes shut to the elements. Hair still glued to his forehead but slowly pushing back. Trembling ever so slightly with the shivers. Idiot boy.

Ever so slowly as to not disturb him or the picnic table, I stand, put my foot down on the other side of him, and come back down, weight fully balanced on his hip, effectively straddling him. He flinches at initial contact but otherwise doesn’t move as I wrap my arms around his chest

and cling to him

like a parasite.

Please just hold me.

Another wave of trembles strikes Jean as he lowers himself so he lies flat against the wood and I lay flat on him. His arms wrap around me a moment later.

I don’t want to think. Jean pulls me a little tighter against that waterlogged hoodie but I don’t mind. My balled hands are getting crushed under our weight and they’re probably hell on his back so I flatten them as much as possible and grasp him. Just us.

Just us, just us, just us…

Jean speaks first, breaking the vow of silence. “You know—” his voice cracks— “we only have three weeks left.”

That’s it. That’s all it takes for the pit in my stomach to open up so quickly I’m surprised Jean doesn’t get stabbed with it. For the dread to boil over and suddenly take control of my entire body, render me prone, double my mass. “Don’t.” That word was too weak even for me.

“I’m really… I’m really going to miss you.” The arms tighten and force some air out of me but this time the contact does nothing to help smooth me out.

Stop talking.

He keeps going. “I can’t ignore it for much longer.”

“Stop.”

“I try to and I can’t. I’m…” Jean’s chest jerks beneath me as his breaths turn shuddering. The floodgates. “I’m just scared.”’

My throat hurts so much it’s like it’s going to collapse in on itself and my eyes burn and it’s hard to breathe—

“You’ve been the best thing to ever happen to me. And now I have to leave you.”

“Stop,” I rasp, but apparently not loud enough.

“When we— when we part ways—”

“Don’t.”

“—I hope you find someone who’s better. Someone who doesn’t get emotional over dumb shit, someone who can treat you right, someone with an actual future—”

I smack his chest with it. My hand. Not hard at all. But enough to get him to stop .

“Jean…” I rise back into a somewhat sitting position. His chin is wrinkled and he’s biting his lip so hard and we lock eyes for a shattering second before he turns his head. Red eyes in a sea of sadness.

What… do I say now?

“You do have a future.”

He scoffs and the smirk is like razors to the eye. “Because I’m going to make it so far with an art degree.”

“Jean, you’re doing what you want to do. Who cares if you don’t end up getting a ‘traditional’ job? You’re gonna be happy with your life.” Which is a lot more than I can say for myself.

Jean brings his gaze down to look at the table. “Yeah, you’re right.” His hands slide from my back to the outsides of my thighs. “It’s going to be different without you, though.”

Deep breath doesn’t do anything. “It’s going to be different without you, too.”

He gives my legs a chaste squeeze, perhaps of comfort. Breathily, he asks, “what now?”

“We enjoy the time left together.”

“And after?”

“We don’t think about after.”

“We have to think about after.”

“Jean…”

He thinks for a few seconds. “We could try long distance.”

“Jean.”

“I mean, sometimes it works, sometimes. As long as we keep communicating, it should be fine. Right? Yeah. Yeah…” Somewhere, a lone mourning dove calls, its familiar swooping cry piercing the dark. “Say something.”

“I don’t…” know. “What if it doesn’t work?”

“What if it does?” He shifts up on his elbows. “What is there to lose?”

The idea comes immediately to mind but it’s harder to put into words. Late-night research on advice boards and internet forums only proved that everything that can go bad does go bad, and imagining Jean or even me in any of those scenarios renders me feeble. It could work, but it could also fail spectacularly. I don’t want to lose him in one of those ways.

But, at the same time, I’d rather not lose him at all.

Jean waits, expectation heavy in his upturned eyes. Who am I kidding. Of course I’d take that risk. “Yeah. You’re right.” I bite the inside of my lip and worry it between my teeth. “It could work.” Because that’s what everyone says before it all goes south.

Worst case scenario, he walks off with another person to love. At least he’ll be happy. He’ll have a real person to look at. Maybe someone less miserable and self-pitying and broody. Someone better-looking, for sure. Someone who he can rely on, instead of a brick wall who can’t express its feelings. Yeah, that would be nice. They’d meet in college through a shared passion for art and make it through the hardships of life together in a crappy little one-bedroom studio apartment that’s lit by yellowed fluorescents overlooking some shady alleyway that he’s definitely saved them from. Walls covered in portraits of each other, blurry polaroids, their favourite albums, photos of graffitied underpasses and empty parking lots that would be so meaningless to anyone else. Windows open in the summer to let in the breeze because on extra humid days it smells like wood. Windows open in the winter because the colder the air, the more burning hot their skin feels against the other as their limbs tangle under the warm pile of blankets on the couch as they watch their show together, even though they’ve seen it enough times to quote every line. Communicating, at every opportunity, how much they mean to each other and their concerns and their plans, quick chats as they pass each other on the way to class, hours-long nighttime discussions that never seem to end. Words strung together so intricately that neither of them gets up out of bed the morning the same as they were last night.

“What are you thinking about?”

I’m still staring into his eyes. “Just— the future.”

His jaw starts grinding again. “You really hate talking about yourself, don’t you?”

“It’s not—” I start to say before Jean suddenly sits up at a right angle, bracing a hand behind my back so I don’t fall backwards. His eyes fixed on me the whole time.

“It’s not what?” There’s a furrow in his brow. “Not important?”

Suddenly, I realize my hands are on his chest.

“Listen, I know you have… trouble with speaking up sometimes, and the last thing I want to do is force you to do anything you don’t want to do. But—” his hands tighten around my thighs— “sometimes I can’t read your mind, and I can’t help you; all I know is that you’re struggling all by yourself and I’m sitting there useless. Listen—” his breath gives out, and he tries again: “listen. I’m not— I want to help you. Especially now. So if you have anything to say, please, please say it.”

At some point the rain had slowed to a drizzle.

Do something. Say something meaningful. For once in your life, please, just open your stupid fucking mouth and say something.

I’m scared too I’m really scared of the future and I want us to run away together and live in the weeds and the one-bedroom apartments I want to stand outside with you in the alleyway I want to have a picnic with you in the underpass I want you to steal my slurpee I want to make you laugh I want to make you happy I want to give you this teddy bear let’s take pictures of each other I’ll teach you how to make a flower braid I want to forget the whole world and all the human animals it can be just us I’ll come out of my dark corner and drag you back in we can be together and never come out just be with me and I’ll be happy wherever

“I’m not really thinking of much.”

“Why don’t you look me in the eye and say that?”

Layers of cells and pigment. Jean’s eyes and my own. My lips part but it’s as if my throat’s turned into a deep, dry well. Something. Something… “When— if —” I inhale— “if we don’t make it, find someone who can treat you right.”

He blinks. “That’s what you’re thinking about?”

“The times I spent with you have been the most precious parts of my life. So if you decide to spend your time with someone else, that’s fine. You’ve given me enough happiness to last a lifetime, you know?”

“What the hell are you spouting,” he grunts. “That’s never gonna fucking happen. Don’t you— are you listening? I’m never doing that.” Now his hands are on my arms. “Don’t you realize how much you mean to me?”

“I don’t think you know a whole lot about me.” Stohess University, his sweater says in big embroidered letters. “Sorry. Don’t worry about it.” Fuck, I sound edgy. Please don’t pursue the subject.

“No, I will worry about it. Hey, look at me.” He pulls my chin up. “I’m allowed to worry about you too, you know? Do you really think by not saying anything I’ll just go on about my day like it’s nothing? Fuck. I care about you. Why can’t you realize that?” Jean’s eyes glisten dangerously. “You— you do care about me, right?”

That’s it. I grind my teeth so hard they might shatter as the hole in my gut deepens. “Of course I do.” You don’t know how much you mean to me and the fact that I made you this upset makes me want to condense into a dark point and disappear forever. How could I be so stupid?

“Then let me care about you too.”

Treating him like a little kid without any emotions. Shunning him to the point he feels… uncared for. Discarded. My doing.

Are you ever going to tell him that you love him?

No you’re stupid you’re a hormonal teenager who’s emotional about growing up stop being such a baby and think about your future that’s what matters that’s all that will ever matter get a job that will make mommy and daddy proud

I don’t want to see you with that boy again

big kids don’t cry

“Darling?”

A rough warm thumb swipes the skin under my eye and takes away the hot tears that make everything so blurry. Piercing throat pain. “I can’t see you, Jean.”

“You’re crying.”

== everything

“No… I’m not.”

But even as I say it a warm drop runs down my cheek and not a moment later it’s wiped away and he plants a most delicate kiss in its place. There’s something wrong with my breath because I can’t seem to inhale smoothly.

“Just let it out, my love.”

“I can’t— I can’t see you.” The words come out half-mumbled and airy.

“Shhh.” He envelops me in his grasp, arms wrapped carefully around me, chest to chest, chin to shoulder, and I find myself clinging on like a parasite. “I’m right here. I’m not leaving you. I’m right here for you. Right here.”

“Jean—” I gulp. “I—”

“Shhh.” And his chest vibrates as he hums and rocks and I don’t think I’ve been held like this in a very long time.

His body so warm beneath me, his arms so secure. Nothing to hear and nothing to see.

I haven’t felt like this in a very long time.

Breath after jerky breath

is it finally my turn?

is it okay like this?

it’s okay, right?

it’s safe.

Jean doesn’t stop. When I twitch or gasp or burrow into him he doesn’t stop, he mutters and sways and holds me as I sob and dirty his shoulder and I don’t think he’ll ever let go. I don’t want him to.

At some point in the morning, when the park is alive with the sounds of birds, the convulsions stop, and so does Jean, pulling me off and scanning my face.

“Don’t.”

He ignores me, though, and wipes everything revolting off my face with his sleeve.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.”

“I got emotional.”

“I know.” Without an ounce of hesitation, he presses his lips against my forehead and holds it there. “Thank you.”

I take a deep breath and it somehow seems easier than before. “Three weeks.”

“Three weeks.” Jean returns to eye level.

“Do you ever get that feeling of missing something that isn’t gone yet?”

“Don’t say that. Don’t say that you miss me.”

“Do you miss me?”

He pushes some hair off my face. “With every fiber of my being.”

Slowly, I do the same — pulling his bangs so that they split on the left side of his face, sweeping them to the side. Jean shuts his eyes as I work and tilts his head forward but I don’t know if he’s conscious of it or not. Meticulously placing every damp lock. He doesn’t open his eyes again until I’m finished.

The time will pass, dates will tick by like seconds. And when it’s finally time, the inevitable will happen.

Goodbyes hurt the most when the story isn’t finished.

Maybe, in another life, it goes on for a little longer.

A story with just us.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

one fun fact is that i have never stepped foot into a 7-11 before. i just based it off circle k. makes me wonder why i chose 7-11 in the first place. (if you happen to be one of the four pocket hamsters in a single trench coat that read my zombie au fic, the reference here isn't a spoiler. or is it??? haha just kidding. maybe.) thanks for reading my dumpter fire! to be honest i was a little embarrassed posting it but whatever its ao3tumblr. i hope every single one of you experiences a clear night sky and/or strawberry pocky in the forseeable future. take care :) secret tumblr-excluive a/n: am i doing it right? does my post like nice and pretty? did i spend an hour formatting the cover? no i didn't!!

#jean kirsctein fanfiction #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirstein x reader #aot fanfiction #attack on titan x reader #pushable #pushs oneshots

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