#i am always blown away at how much he is constantly taking on

[weregonnabecoolbeans]

Julian Blackthorn’s constant awareness of his siblings is both so heartwarming and so heartbreaking to read

[abyssruler]

the 7-eleven diaries

albedo, alhaitham, childe, scaramouche, venti x gn!reader

your job isn’t the best one out there, but it’s easy and keeps you from drowning in tuition fees and rent. working at a 7-eleven on a midnight shift was supposed to be peaceful, so why is it that you constantly find yourself being bothered by weird customers? (modern au)

fluff, comedy, crack, cashier employee reader, modern au, written for fluffvember!

ALBEDO

It’s difficult not to take notice of the perpetually tired college student (much like yourself) who always comes at the latest hours to order a cup of black coffee and a can of beer. The first time you saw him order that drink was a memorable one, if only because of the way your eyes had nearly popped out of their sockets when you saw him mix the two drinks in a large, empty slurpee cup and proceed to drink it all in a matter of seconds.

Another memorable time was when he came in with only enough money to buy a bottle of water, then took a seat at a table near the counter and took out a box full of what you initially presumed were cookies. It was a traumatizing memory you look back on with a shudder as you remember the way he crunched down on it like it was a piece of biscuit instead of a motherfucking spider.

“They’re surprisingly nutritional, full of protein and fibre. It leaves a strange aftertaste, but it’s a good substitute for dinner.”

Since then, you’ve made sure to keep some food ready in the microwave for him, free of charge. He just looked so pitiful sitting by himself with dark under-eyes and greasy hair — the very image of a normal college student — that you couldn’t help yourself from taking money out of your own pocket to help a fellow comrade.

One day, he came to the store with blown pupils and a sort of dazed look in his eyes, words slurring together as he tried to explain to you how he’s finally created an edible liquid that can keep sleep at bay for at least 120 hours…with some small side-effects, but it’ll wear off with time. That’s when you found out he was a bio-chemistry student well on his way to getting a PhD at his young age.

When questioned why he drank the liquid instead of having someone else do it, his response was, “To experience it firsthand, of course. The basis of research is accuracy and precision, how could I be remiss as to leave such an important experiment to someone who could, in their ignorance, fail to mention an important detail that their mind might have labeled as useless.”

You’re not quite sure how he’s still alive by this point.

But his weirdness aside, you resolve to take care of him in your own way, from a fellow tired college student to another. You remind him to get some sleep, steering him away from eating spiders and encouraging him to eat more meat.

“But I am eating meat?”

“Albedo, that’s a spider.”

“And are you saying that spiders do not possess meat?”

“Oh, for the love of—just eat the goddamn sandwich.”

You think he appreciates it, if the way he dedicated his latest thesis to you is any indication.

ALHAITHAM

You were in the middle of answering a math problem your professor assigned that morning, papers sprawled over the counter with you hunched over it, hand in your hair and trying not to pull at it in frustration over how difficult the problem was. And then he’d come in like an angel, all perfectly shiny hair and a no-nonsense look on his face, took one look at you and the papers scattered across the counter and said one sentence that saved your grade in math.

“You forgot to put a negative sign right there.”

That was the moment you decided that he must be an angel sent from heaven. He always grunts whenever you call him that, though whether it’s from amusement or annoyance remains to be seen.

He doesn’t visit the convenience store much, but when he does, he always spares the time to help you out with whatever assignment you were working on, sometimes even taking the initiative of asking if you need his assistance in answering a problem — though he says this on a much less nicer tone.

“Are you gonna make me do your homework again?”

“My professer didn’t assign me one today, surprisingly enough, so no.”

He seemed strangely disappointed when you told him no, but you chalked it up to him being some sort of math wiz who gets riled up by equations and the like. Seems like kind of guy too, what with all the times he’s made a subtle jab at your intelligence — or lack, thereof.

“How could you possibly need a paper to calculate the answer to four-hundred and thirty-two times fifty-eight?”

“Not all of us are smarter than Rukkhadevata like you.”

“Who?”

He’s not bad company, though that opinion stems solely from the fact that he helps you (solves it for you, more like) with all your homework. Not without making comments about you lazing about on the job and letting your customer answer your assignment for you. You respond in a mature way by making fun of him.

“I’ve never seen you without those earphones. Are you hiding a pair of large ears or something?”

“No.”

He refuses to elaborate more on the subject.

Sometimes you give him a drink, usually cola or juice, as thanks for helping you out. He takes it without question, taking sips from it as he tutors you about this and that, occasionally commenting about your job and how you’re only making yourself suffer by taking on midnight shifts. You don’t see why he cares. For all that you jokingly call him an angel, you know he’s far from actually being one.

You once saw him on campus reading a book by the library. It’s easy enough to come up to him and make conversation, handing him an unopened drink you just bought from a vending machine. It just feels wrong not to, more of a habit by this point.

It’s then that someone decides to dramatically drop his books to the ground and point at you and Alhaitham. The blonde guy gapes and asks how in the world Alhaitham managed not to scare you away. His eyes zero in on the can of grape juice on Alhaitham’s hand, and then he proceeds to laugh, asking Alhaitham since when did he decide to start drinking what he once called was an unhealthy drink composed of sugar and artificial flavoring.

You made a mental note of that response, and later that night, you decide to hand him a packaged biscuit. Nothing unhealthy there. Technically.

“Good. I was beginning to wonder if I should start taking medicine in case my stomach burst from the amount of cola you hand me.”

“You could’ve just not accepted, you know.”

“It was given to me. Not accepting would be considered rude.”

“Didn’t Kaveh say you threw a bottle of orange juice to his face after he gave you one?”

“I did.”

He refuses to elaborate more on the subject, but you’ve since resolved to only give him the healthiest thing you could find on the store—which isn’t much considering this is a 7-eleven, but hey, microwaved salad is still salad, right?

He grumbles about the radiation but eats the salad anyway. Another win for you, you suppose.

CHILDE

He came in near the end of your shift, lips busted and an eye swollen shut, blood splattered all over his clothes. The grin on his face should’ve hinted you at his lunacy, but you’ve always been blind to warnings and the like, so you went over the counter and helped him up from where he’s slumped over the chips and candies isle.

Aether, your co-worker and the one who’s about to take over from your shift, only looked at you with tired eyes, “It’s too early for this shit.” That was, of course, Aether’s way of basically saying, you’re on your own.

So you picked up the ginger lying on the linoleum floors, heaving his arm over your shoulder to drag him to the nearest pharmacy — never let it be said that you were just a bystander. He groaned as the movement bothered whatever injuries he may have, but he still looked at you with wide, strangely lightless eyes, as if only now registering your presence, and said, “Holy shit, you’re hot.”

After you finished dumping him on the pharmacy and leaving the people there baffled at what to do with an injured guy, he grabbed your wrist and, with a bloody smile he probably thought was charming, handed you a piece of paper containing his number.

You never text him. Or call.

He comes back to the store a week later with faint yellow bruises across his face and a far too bright grin for someone who’s visiting a 7-eleven at two in the morning. He pouts about not getting a single text from you, but before you can respond, he’s moving on to another topic, mindlessly picking up a box of tampons by the side and setting it on the counter.

He only seems to realize what he’s done when you give him a strange look.

“Tampons are, uh, great for bloody noses!”

“…Right.”

You weren’t convinced at all, but you decided to let it slide. He seemed like a genuine guy, if a bit too enthusiastic sometimes. His mouth never shuts ups, always going on about this and that, asking all sorts of questions that would’ve normally had most normal people backing away. But your brain isn’t exactly at its best condition and being sleep deprived for the better part of your life has made it less of a brain and more of an organ that just helps you get through the day.

You don’t know exactly why he stays to chat with you, buying ridiculous amounts of stuff that were frankly far too expensive just to have an excuse to talk to you. You don’t mind it much, especially when he’s a great deterrent for any unwanted petty thieves or middle school delinquents trying to rob your store every week or so.

Apparently, he’s got a reputation for being a bit of an adrenaline junkie and being willing to fight anything and everything that breathes. And apparently, word’s gotten out that he’s into you, like, really into you, so most guys who have less-than-well intentions have decided that robbing the local 7-eleven isn’t worth the trouble if it means having to deal with Ajax.

“Actually, it’s Tartaglia.”

“Tarantula?”

“No, Tartaglia. It’s my street name! Ajax just doesn’t inspire the same fear into other people’s hearts the same way Tartaglia does.”

“Whatever you say, Tortilla.”

“It’s Tartaglia!”

He never brings up the fact that you never call or text him back, even when he’s somehow gotten ahold of your number and started sending you memes and updates about his day. When asked, he just shrugs and says he’ll win you over eventually.

SCARAMOUCHE

It wasn’t intentional, and you’ll admit it was completely your fault, but did he have to be such an asshole about you dozing off on the counter?

“Have the standards really fallen so low that employees are now afforded to sleep on the job?”

Here was this guy at two in the morning, bemoaning society’s failure in raising the new generation to have a proper work ethic at a 7-eleven store. The guy had a rolex watch and clothes that looked like they were worth more than your monthly salary — you’re not one to judge other people’s appearances, but he’s the very image of nepotism. And frankly speaking, you’re of the opinion that rich people shouldn’t be entitled to an opinion on what the working class decides do with their life, like falling asleep on the job.

…And oh, you just said that out loud, didn’t you?

Oh well, your manager will understand.

The guy with a bowl cut leaves fuming, but not before slapping a wad of cash down the counter to pay for his stupidly expensive noodles, snarling at you to keep the change since you clearly need it more than him.

You do, in fact, keep the change. Money is money, whether it’s from your salary or a rich boy throwing a tantrum.

The next day in class, a bag slams down the seat beside you, and you’re met with the same rich boy from last night, a scowl painting his rather pretty face as he hisses lowly about how he’s surprised you can afford to go to college. Talk about holding a grudge, you would’ve forgotten all about him from last night if he hadn’t given you his change.

He fumes even more when you don’t give him any sort of reaction, merely nodding your head at him and turning back to the board to listen to your professor drone on about this and that. It’s rather difficult to focus, however, when he keeps muttering sarcastic comments and barbs to the teacher beneath his breath.

“If you even had an iota of charm about you, perhaps your wife wouldn’t have filed for a divorce.”

You choked on a laugh, hand coming up muffle the sound, but he clearly noticed, judging by the way he snaps his head to you, eyes wide and seemingly surprised you found it funny. You only smile at him, an amused little thing, but he quickly looked away and murmured something unintelligible beneath his breath, his fists clenched and the tips of his ears curiously pink.

He comes back to visit your job that night, still with that air of haughtiness about him but a bit toned down. Even more surprising was the fact he didn’t immediately leave the moment he handed you his money.

“Do you want the change?”

“Are you so desperate for money that you’d go begging a total stranger for some spare coin?”

“I mean, yeah, I guess.”

“Tch, fine. You can have it.”

He never fails to come back every night, always giving you the change for his bill, even when the amount is more than the items he paid for. Sometimes, he’ll even take out a snack or a drink from the bag and slide them over to you, cheeks suspiciously red as he did so.

“Don’t think this means anything. I’m only giving this to you because I know you can’t afford it.”

“It’s literally worth ten mora.”

“Would it kill you to at least give me a thank you?”

“Thank you, Kunikuzushi. I’ll be sure to treasure this can of cola that I would’ve never been able to afford without your help.”

“Shut up.”

He buys you a tub of ice cream the next night, the ridiculously expensive kind, to prove a point. The two of you eat it together at one of the tables, him grumbling about the stain on the table and the overall lack of quality and taste — at a 7-eleven — and you laughing whatever he says.

Well, you suppose he’s not as much of an asshole as you initially assumed.

VENTI

He’s a bit popular in campus, in the sense that nearly everyone is friends with him, which makes it impossible not to have heard about that one guy who’s really great at singing. You were, unfortunately, one of the few that aren’t well acquainted with him — aren’t acquainted with him at all.

So when he comes up to the counter, all boyish grin and ridiculously short shorts and a cute little pink hair clip keeping his bangs away from his face, holding an entire household’s worth of vodka and wine, you do what any rational semi-adult would do and look at him with a blank face.

“Are you even old enough to drink?”

He laughs at you like this is a common occurrence he faces on the daily before slapping down his ID on the counter. And huh, would you look at that, he’s even older than you are.

He then lights up once he gets a good look at you. “Hey, you’re Albedo’s friend, aren’t you?” He abandons his alcohol at the counter in favor of looking around your quaint little convenient store. “So this is that 7-eleven he keeps talking about…”

You’re not exactly sure what he’s going on about, but you do know he must be a friend of Albedo’s, which makes you ease up around him. He’s nice. Sort of. If you ignore the teasing and the jokes and the way he keeps asking you to give him a student discount. For alcohol. You’d given him what you hoped was your best imitation of Kunikuzushi’s stink eye. You think you got it on point, if the way he deflates is any indication.

He comes around the store every weekend, saying he’s here to get a little treat for the awful weekday he’s had. You never fail to remind him that he has class every Sunday, to which he responds by opening a can of beer (which he hasn’t paid for yet) and sitting on the counter, bemoaning the injustice of putting classes during the weekends.

You once asked him why he keeps hanging around this store when there’s a perfectly good bar right around the corner, owned by that popular red-haired business major from your university. Venti just laughed and said he prefers the quietness here — and the company, he added with a wag of his eyebrows. He always teases you, sometimes borderline flirting, but it’s easy enough to wave it away.

The day you discovered he was actually well known in campus was when your university hosted a local event. There’d been stalls and booths set up everywhere and even a little mock-stage put up near the center for any band or singer to perform in. It’d been nice to have a break from the monotonous routine of going to class and studying then working at your job and getting less than ideal sleep.

And then you heard your name booming out from the speakers, and you turn your head to see Venti on the stage with that little lyre he sometimes carries with him to the store, saying he’d like your opinion on a song or two he composed.

He dedicates the song to you in front of the entire student body, then proceeds to sing the cheesiest, most gut-wrenching and cringiest love song of all time.

“Why did you have to pick that song?”

“Because it’s fun and cute!”

“I sometimes question your ability to distinguish cute from horrifyingly monstrous.”

There’s a mortified look on your face, but amidst the embarrassment and the teasing remarks of his friends, there’s a smile on your face that you can’t bring yourself to wipe away.

i’ll be doing a part two on this but with diluc, dottore, kazuha, xiao, and zhongli!

@maehemthemisfit @sonder-paradise @96jnie @komiyaa @scaramouchenumber1fan @linn-a-a @wisteriaflowersss @ineriris @yesntforno @serramii @shadowmist0706 @jmgrule @imeanwatever @c00kie-cat @serramii @xtodorokismistressx @ieathairs @endlessmari @strawberryclumsy @serenity-ren-bliss @scarasbaby

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞♡𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞𝐬 🔞

Who said every omega needs an alpha?

Tags/Warnings: Omega!Jungkook, Omega!Reader, Omega!Jimin, Mentioned Alpha!Yoongi, Stereotypes, Friends to lovers, Major Fluff, Romance, Slight angst, injury, brief hospital visit, smut, oral (f. Receiving), smut, Dom!Jungkook, protected sex, knotting, biting

Length: ~5k Words

There is no taglist for this fic.

A/N: Boo.

-> Masterlist

•━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━•

Jeon Jungkook.

He's a good looking guy, above average in almost everything he does, and easy to like. Conversations flow easily around him and friendships blossom left and right- almost everyone knows and likes him. It's hard not to, really; as an Omega, he's naturally passionate and caring, a gentle guy that enjoys making others happy.

You met him at a friend's birthday party, the young wf having noticed you standing mostly all by yourself without really conversing with anyone. He'd been kind enough to introduce himself, stay with you, and keep you there for much longer than you usually stay at gatherings like these.

And right now, he's standing in front of you, smile still on his lips and hands tucked away in his jacket pockets while he sways front and back on his heels after having told you he's interested in you.

Romantically.

"There's a.. You said you collect those stuffed animals, squishmallows, right? There's a new store that sells the really huge ones. We could stop by that store tomorrow, if you'd like." he offers, curious eyes watching you with a glimmer that's just.. Jungkook.

Jungkook is new. Different. He's nothing you'd expect, always doing something you'd never be able to guess- and ut makes spending time with him hoth exciting and a little stressful at times.

His eyes always seem to sparkle when he smiles. It's honestly unfair, how they always put you under their spell with their boba-pearl charm. How can you say no?

How can anyone ever tell him no?

"I.. Okay wait. You.. And me?" you wonder, and he nods, smile turning into a grin that makes his lower eyelids raise. "But I'm not, uh… Are you sure?" you wonder, and he becomes surprised at that it seems.

"I am. I wouldn't have asked you out like this if I wasn't." he says, still swaying a little.

He's always been like this. Never staying still. Always up to something. Constantly moving. Like his body is constantly generating excess energy he can't seem to burn. Like the energizer bunny.

"what makes you think I'm joking?" he asks, and you look down, rather watching the tips of his shoes than his gaze any longer.

You can't stand his gaze. You're gonna melt into a puddle if you look at him any longer.

"I'm just.. Me. And you're you. Shouldn't you want someone more.. Opposite of you, rather than the same?" you ask carefully and it seems that it clicks for him in that moment.

It's technically common sense- alphas get with omegas, omegas with alphas. That's how it goes- or so one might think.

But Jungkook isn't any wolf. He's not ordinary in anything he does- so it's unsurprising that his sub-gender also isn't what one might expect.

"Ah~." he hums mostly to himself, before shaking his hair out of his eyes after the wind had blown it over his face, fingers pulling the strands from his piercings decorating his bottom lip. "Stereotypes. You're talking about me being an omega and all that, right?" he wonders, and you nod.

"Sorry." you instinctively say. The regret of your words already starting to make you uneasy. Did you insult him now?

Male omegas tend to be very sensitive when it comes to this. Or maybe that's Stereotypes too?

"No problem, lots of people think that way." he shakes it off, taking a step towards you. "But, rather than explaining to you what is and isn't true about the stuff people say-" he starts, feigning innocence before he grins at you, holding your hands in his now, playfully, just by the tips of your fingers. "-how about I show you?" he asks, and you look back at him.

"huh?" you can only answer, and he sways again, tilting his head to the side a little, swinging your hands a bit.

"Go out with me." he bluntly suggests, grinning brightly. "And I'll show you."

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Wolf's sub-genders have been the topic of Novels and movies for a long time now.

The most popular trope being the alpha that falls in love with their omega, to live happily ever after. Some of your own favourite media actually includes this stereotype as well- and for a long time, in your head and in many others, this was the most ideal couple amongst wolves.

However, reality is more complex than that, and you're roughly reminded of that with the way Jungkook behaves.

While he does offer a lot of the general traits associated with being an omega, such as his big round eyes and constant need for physical contact, he also doesn't fit others at all. He's muscly, masculine body dressed comfortably in clothes made of soft materials, and his behavior, while gentle and soft in the way he acts, feels oddly confident and almost dominant to you.

He's sure in his walk. He knows his worth.

There's a hand on your back leading you without any force through the store, like a remote control, no need for actual strength.

There's that glimmer in his eyes every time you struggle and ask him for help with something, as if he's amused by the fact that he makes you nervous.

There's that look of victory in his face whenever you seem flustered by any of his words, Luke it's a game he keeps winning.

He's making your head spin.

You're both sitting on a blanket in a calm park- when he lays down, patting the spot next to you in an inviting manner. "Come here." he smiles, and you do so- easily cuddling up to him, surprising yourself even, considering you're not one that's this easy with physical contact like that. But Jungkook? He runs the inside of his wrist over your neck, bashful smile on his lips as he watches you, caring nature of his sub-gender showing in his actions.

"What're you doing?" you wonder, and he grins sheepishly, caught red handed.

"Scenting you." he says. "I- we technically do it differently as wolves but, I don't wanna seem pushy." he admits, and you nod. You know how it usually goes.

You remember your last alpha doing it, licking your neck instead, or biting. It made you anxious. Every bite could've been made to last, after all.

"…Thank you." you tell him due to that, the way he makes sure he's never too forceful making you feel at ease- and slightly guilty. "And sorry." You apologize because of this.

"for what?" Jungkook wonders. "I had a nice day, even better than I could've imagined. I'm feeling really happy right now." the young man explains, and it makes you a little jealous how easy it seems for him to voice out his emotions.

You're not that good at it. Maybe he can teach you?

"For judging." you explain, but he just scrunches up his nose before softly flicking a finger under your chin, teasing you.

"Don't worry. It's normal." he shrugs, before rolling onto his back, your head on his tattooed arm as you watch the clouds as well next to him. "Do you think.. We could try?" he wonders, and after a moment of thinking, you nod.

You know what he means by that. And you want to try as well.

And he swears, if he had a tail, it would be wagging like an excited puppy.

•━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━•

Your first kiss happens rather Spontaneously.

It's unprepared, a little clumsy, happening in the kitchen after you'd placed a small bandaid over the cut Jungkook had accidentally given himself while helping you cook. Seeing you tend to such a minor wound so carefully just set something off inside him- and he couldn't help himself.

And after the initial shock of it all, kisses seem to be a constant around Jungkook.

As soon as you meet up, there's a quick peck as a greeting, lips barely properly touching, but enough to make the gesture of affection count.

Small kisses on your cheek whenever he's close enough, just to see you turn red, shyness of you just too precious to look away from.

And most importantly? The way he scents you changed.

While pretty tame at first, the entire act of scenting you has become somewhat heated these days- just like now, as he runs his lips over the crook of your neck, back and forth, hands almost sensually running over your body, clothes suddenly feeling itchy.

He never crosses boundaries, never bites where you don't want to, never pushes himself past your limits just because it's easy to do. He's gentle, caring, offers you just what you need in the right amount, easing you into the waters that's his love.

And it makes you brave. It makes you want more.

Your own limbs seem to want him closer as well, your mind slowly becoming more and more trusting towards him, as he builds up the affection every time you spend time with one another.

It started just with cuddling on the couch while watching a movie. Then, the kisses got added to the mix- shy at first, his confidence with you slowly building up towards the point of where you are today; Heated, bodies warm and needy as his hand travels underneath your soft fleece shirt, fingertips carefully meeting the underline of your chest. "Still okay?" He asks, lowly so as if worried he might pop the little bubble you're both in and wake you up from the trance of emotions, but you simply nod, smiling, happy.

And as an omega, he feeds off of your emotions; he thrives in the fact that you're giving yourself into his arms so freely and comfortable, no worries in your scent whatsoever in his presence.

He shamelessly purrs at the way you kiss his collarbone, lips pressing over a tiny little beauty mark he has in that area, making him shiver in pleasure. You've not talked about going all the way yet- and right now, he's not trying to get into your pants at all. You're so attentive to him, offering such kind affection, that its enough for now. He can't deny however that your scent is driving him crazy- making him hungry for even more intimacy than he's receiving already.

He's needy. Craving.

"Can I eat you out?" He asks breathlessly so, and your eyes widen before your cheeks grow a bit red. "You don't have to say yes." He adds at the sight of your shyness, but you just shrug in response.

"I don't know what it feels like.." You start, before you look up at him, and he feels himself feeling upset. How come you've never experienced that? You're so sweet, you should've been able to explore your most carnal desires with someone you trust. "..but I trust you." You say, and his body erupts into happiness.

You trust him.

You trust him.

It washes over him like the hot stream of water in the shower after a long day, making him nod eagerly as he kisses you first and foremost. Jungkook is pretty orally focused, you've noticed; playfully nipping your skin here and there, kissing you randomly, or just running his sensitive lips over the soft skin of the back of your hand, feeling your skin with his mouth and hot breath. So it's not a surprise when he doesn't mind kissing you a bit more chaotically, open mouthed and tongue exploring your mouth with confidence.

He loves you, after all- and he can see, feel, that you're falling for him too.

He makes it all feel so natural that you can't help but giggle at the feeling of his kisses down your bare stomach; dress pushed up by his hands, a grin showing when he notices your reaction to his antics. He feels as if he's high- never having had the opportunity to be in a situation as easy and simple as this; both of you just existing, no words needing to be shared, no roles defined, no goal in mind other than making the other just as happy as yourself.

It's an odd feeling at first, but simply the sight of him so immersed in the act makes it feel ten times more erotic to you than you thought it might. Your breathing is deep, occasional sighs escaping you, soft voice chanting out his name like a mantra to keep you sane; and he starts to feel drunk off of it, teasing licks turning into more determined motions, tongue flat on your most sensitive area, the feeling odd but not unpleasant. All that fills your head is simply your approaching high, not in the slightest feeling like anything you could've done to yourself.

How will it be when you're both in heat?

You've known each other for months now, after all. Your cycle has synced up by now, you've noticed last time he'd taken time away to himself.

Your back arches as you roll your hips closer to him, lost in the ecstasy while his hands hold a firm grip on your thighs, fingers digging into the flesh while you ride out your orgasm on his tongue, before he let's go of you, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before crawling back up to lay down next to you with an impish smile on his red lips. "Hey." He jokingly greets you after you've opened your eyes again, noticing how he's moved your dress back down again as to not have you get cold.

Jungkook lays there with a smile, and you feel funny in his presence like this. You've never had anybody talk to you or treat you like he does ever before- you're used to either being told exactly what to do, or to be scolded for what you're doing or have done- so him talking to you like you're something special makes you a little confused on how to act.

And it makes you scared, because up until now, you've ruined everything good.

•━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━•

"So have you, you know? Repaid the favor?" Jimin asks, eating his sandwich in front of you while you suddenly turn pale. "Oh." He just humms, while you let your face fall into your hands.

"Oh god, I'm such a nasty bitch, really.." You groan, eyes stinging already at the thought of Jungkook having expected you to get him off as well, just to get nothing in return but a stupid cuddle. The shame washes over you like waves on a stormy day, clashing against your bones with anger that swells up in your chest. You're upset at yourself now, appetite having vanished, and now you're even madder at yourself because Jimin had literally paid for that little piece of cake you'd chosen to eat here, and now you can't even enjoy it anymore.

Hormones are a gorrible thing, especially for omegas. And the stress you have these days just really fucked you over, causing you to drop into a new mental low.

"Hey, no-" Jimin says, wiping his mouth with a napkin before a hand reaches out to touch your arm. "-I'm sure he would've said something if he'd expected anything." He says, making you look at him with glossy eyes.

"Great, so you're saying he doesn't want me like that, thanks." You say roughly, and Jimin sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Oh god I'm sorry, now I'm all moody and-"

"Everything alright?" Jungkook's voice rings out next to you, as he stands close to your chair now, having spotted you in the small cafe with Jimin while passing by on his way home from work. "Hey, what happened?" He coos worriedly, bending down a little to get a better look at you who's hiding your face in your hands, humiliated about crying in a public setting like this, while Jungkook tries to assess the problem- your scent making him anxious too, but in a different way.

You're his partner. And his instincts tell him to offer you comfort, make you feel better.

You've always been overly emotional like this, but its worse now than ever. Jimin said that it's probably from being raised so roughly by your more than strict parents- after all, he remembers the times he had to make up stories just so you would be allowed to stay over at his family home, or for you to attend school trips. He's put himself into the line of fire constantly just to hang out as a friend with you- your mother hating him growing up for being a 'bad influence', and your father even threatening him with violence after Jimin had cut your hair for you, having grown tired of you being unable to express yourself even in the slightest at the age of 15. You remember how Jimin had grinned to you the next day, after everyone at school genuinely complimented you for your new appearance.

However, years after and now both of you working adults, you still have the habit of breaking down crying at the sight of the slightest thing going south in your life. But Jimin simply smiles watching Jungkook squatting next to your seat, carefully wiping your cheeks and eyes concentrated as he listens in on your hiccups interrupting your words to him, none of it very coherent.

But he manages to understand.

"Baby, it's totally fine, I don't hate you." He chuckles, pulling a chair from an empty table close by to sit next to you. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you both, by the way." Jungkook laughs, reaching out to shake Jimin's hand. "Jungkook, nice to meet you."

"Jimin. She's been talking non-stop about you." He teases, making you pout while drying your eyes with a napkin, earning a snort from Jungkook who just can't help but find your glare cute.

At the end of the day, you're happy to see your best friend and boyfriend get along so well- both making sure you know you didn't do anything wrong- and that it's totally fine to cry.

Jimin making sure to underline that no one even noticed at all.

•━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━•

"I'm sorry sir, but I don't feel comfortable leaving you alone with her at all." Jungkook says, and it's all a face-off you never hoped you'd have to witness.

Your father had arrived unannounced to apparently bring something over your mother had sent- but you know he just does it to tell you how 'messy' your apartment is, and how you don't have your life under control. You don't know why exactly he does it- any parent would be happy to see their child earn a living from a job they genuinely enjoy; your art selling for high prices, well known celebrities decorating their homes with your works. Jimin had always said that your father is simply jealous- but you can't help but feel small under your parent's strong gaze and harsh words, Alpha father too intimidating to resist bowing to.

And now? Right now your father had told Jungkook to leave, and to yours (and probably your father's too) surprise, Jungkook had declined.

An omega, refusing an alpha's command.

"I'm sorry too, dog, but It's not up to you to decide that." Your father responds, and you worriedly look between the two men, when Jungkook speaks up yet again.

"You're right, it's up to her." Jungkook says. "It's her apartment after all." He says, turning a bit to look at you. You quietly nod, giving him the sign that yes, you want this man out, but you can't bring yourself to say it. It makes Jungkook feel protective of you in this situation, no mate able to stay calm at the prospect of their partner feeling in danger of anything in their presence. "Please leave, or I will call police." Jungkook says, and your father scoffs.

"I'll give you a nice black eye before they get here then, how about it?" He threatens, and while you step in front of Jungkook in a moment of thoughtlessness and reckless protection, you end up receiving the punch right into the side of your head, knocking you to the ground.

"No!" Jungkook barks out, rushing down to your level to check up on you- before spotting your father looking down at the scene with horror.

"I didn't mean to-" He almost whispers, before he takes a shuddering breath, leaving the apartment and you two alone.

You feel dizzy, headache already starting while your hearing sounds like cotton wool had been stuffed into it. It's distant, almost non-existent, and you can only hear Jungkook with your unaffected side. "What's wrong, baby, talk to me.!" he urges, and you sit up a bit straighter, noticing an odd feeling in your ear that makes you run your finger over the opening of your ear canal. When you move it away to reveal red spots of blood, the omega wolf immediately rushes to get his car keys, rushing to the emergency room with you next to him.

An overnight stay, and thorough examination later, you're free to go again, Jungkook making sure to cover all the formalities for your release, while you wait in your room.

"I can't believe he fucking punched you. Oh my baby peanut.." Jimin jokes dramatically, though you know there's genuine anger directed at your father in his words. He's currently keeping you company, his job as a nurse coming in quite handy in times like this, before the door opens to reveal a smiling Jungkook.

"Alright, I've been given your antibiotics and papers, so we're good to go now." He informs you, making you nod, albeit a bit hesitant after being told not to move your head too violently.

"You're lucky there wasn't anything more serious." Jimin sighs.

"Her hearing will be back soon right?" Jungkook asks, and Jimin nods.

"A month or two, typically. The bruising will be down even quicker I imagine."

And Jungkook nods, keeping in mind to never let you get hurt again.

•━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━•

True to his words, a few months later, there's no trace of your past injury any longer.

Now on a spontaneous camping trip Jungkook had surprised you with to help you get over your artists-block and give you some inspiration, you're both entangled inside the van he had rented out, the rain pattering harshly onto the roof of it. You're both unconcerned with the little thunderstorm outside however, rather occupied with each other as he finally uncovers all of your body for himself.

You'd thought it would all feel much weirder than it actually does, but it's Jungkook- every move he makes feels natural at his point, even if the territory you're both walking on right now is absolutely new to you.

The condom over his length makes it a bit easier for him to push himself inside you, your warmth welcoming him eagerly and making him struggle to compose himself. You're just so pretty in the dim orange light that shines inside the van from the front that he can't help himself, his instincts to breed you full of his cum pushing itself into the front of his mind. You'd look so good covered in his release- and you'd smell even better, he knows it already.

Maybe next time. Or next round? How long can you take it?

Right now he's gasping for air, your little whimpers making him feel more sensitive than he's ever felt before. Not even his own heat compares to this burning need he feels growing inside him, your hips rolling up into him, and he's a goner. A growl leaves his throat before he bites around your neck, movements becoming more frantic now in the heat of the moment, needing to claim you as his. "I love you." He hums into your neck, and you respond with your own confession, before his hand angles your leg a little better, his thrusts a lot more desperate at this point. The van is probably visibly shaking from the outside, force of his hips hard enough to fill the small interior of the sleeping area with the wet sound of skin against skin, and your sensual breaths.

You're whining for more, but for what exactly you're not sure of. But again, as if he can read your mind, he knows- hand reaching between you both to press and roll your clit between his fingers, making your core clench and thighs shake with your sudden orgasm, his hips never ceasing to move as you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer, kiss him feverishly.

It gives him the final push to cum as well- though he's a bit disappointed it has to be inside the condom, and not you.

But, Again; maybe next time.

You're overly sensitive, noticing something odd happening, but he reassures you with licks and kisses to the bruised spot he'd bitten over and over on your neck while his arms hold you close. "Did you forget yet baby?" He chuckles amused, making you a bit shy considering the position you're now in.

Completely connected, his knot keeping him inside you at all costs.

"Kook?" You wonder when you notice the muscles in his thighs still trembling occasionally, hips pushing as close as he can get, breaths studdering, gasping. He's moaning quietly every time you involuntarily clench around his length still inside or move too much, and it's in that moment that you realize he's probably still in the midst of his orgasm.

Talk about drawn out.

It doesn't take long for him however to notice your rather impish acts, the way you seem to be very aware and in control of your actions- and much to your surprise, the moment he's able to slip out and discard the filled condom, he's back between your legs, thrown over his shoulders with a grin on his lips that spells trouble in bold.

"You didn't think I was done yet, did you?"

•━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━•

"I'm a little worried though." Jimin says, sighing next to you while you reach into the bag of chips he's holding, TV show playing on the screen while you both spend a day together alone. "Yoongi is an alpha- what if I get on his nerves or something? Alphas are said to be quite moody.." He mumbles.

You giggle, adjusting the strap of your tank top that rests right over the permanent scar of Jungkook's forever bite.

"Don't worry Jiminie." You simply reassure him.

"That's all just stereotypes."

[writeonwhiskey]

the skz house: ch 22

a/n: i am continuously blown away by your support. thank you for sticking with me through this. as always, thank you @bahablastplz for editing!

[ read chapter 21 here ]

Chapter 22: Of Seungmin and Karaoke

Your frustration with Chan hardly subsides over the next couple of days. Thankfully the rotation announcement was on a Thursday, so you don’t have to worry about sleeping in his room the rest of the week. You assume he’s keeping to himself in his room because you don’t see him around the house all day Friday. The next time you see him is at the dinner table on Saturday.

You’re seated at the opposite end of the table, conversing with Hyunjin, Felix and Charlotte. You can feel Chan’s eyes boring into you damn near the entire time, but you refuse to look in his direction. After that night in his room, you have to wonder if you constantly caving to him is what’s putting both of you in this position. If you resist and stand your ground, maybe it will make it easier for you both to pretend you feel nothing.

But you can’t understand why it’s so hard to do. You’re trying to be an active participant in the conversation, but you have to keep telling yourself not to look up at him. The fucked up thing is that neither of you are in the wrong here. And that just makes it all the more confusing.

He’s not wrong in suggesting that you should try to distance yourself from him in preparation for what’s to come. However, he could have gone about it in a completely different manner. He instead retreated back to asshole Chan mode with how he spoke to you. A defense mechanism, perhaps. It was a failed defense, though. Your Chan slipped through the cracks—the way he stopped you from leaving his room...the way he fucked you as if you’re the only thing he needs to survive. His body calls to yours and it always responds because you need him just as much.

After dinner, a handful of the boys offer to wash the dishes since the girls have to get ready to change rooms tomorrow. None of you give them a chance to change their mind as you all stand from your seats and file out of the kitchen towards the den. Chan, having left the table a few minutes before, stops you in the hallway by lightly grabbing your arm. The other girls glance back at you, and you motion for them to carry on without you.

“Y/n,” he says softly.

Your heartbeat quickens when he breathes your name, the skin on your arm where he’s holding it feels like it’s on fire. You don’t turn around to face him, but you don’t pull your arm away either. You allow yourself a moment to take in the heat and passion that’s radiating off him.  

“About the other night,” he continues, “I’m sor—”

“Don’t be,” you cut him off, shaking your head. “You’re right. We should want to do this. And I’m going to give it a try.”

You don’t believe the words you’re saying, even as they fall from your lips. But you have to be the stronger one. You must be the one to push him away. If you stop giving in to him, maybe it will be easier for you both to accept your separate futures.

He lets go of his hold on you and you take a tentative step forward. He doesn’t attempt to stop you; and it fucking hurts.

You start thinking back to your trip together—maybe you shouldn’t have asked him to go. You shouldn’t have asked him to pretend with you. But you’ve never seen him happier or more authentically himself. Would this all be easier if you never knew how he felt about you? Yes. Do you regret him telling you? Absolutely not.

You leave him behind in the hallway and join the girls in the den. You take a seat on the last empty papasan.

“Everything okay?” Charlotte asks.

“Yeah…just Chan being Chan…have fun with that, Allie.” You keep your tone light, wanting it to sound like a joke.

They carry on with their conversation about switching rooms tomorrow and how best to cope with the rotations. To your knowledge, no one else in the house knows how Chan truly feels about you. They have no clue that this entire rotation debacle is your fault, and you want to keep it that way.

The girls seem quite rational in their discussion. Rhiannon reasons that since none of you can be with them in the future anyways, what use is there harboring any jealousy? Someone else, in the real world, will have them after you.  

Allie agrees, saying you’re all just a blip on the radar of their life, which hurts to hear, but is a fact. She digs deeper by stating that they’ll go on and forget about all of you.

Charlotte chimes in that the SKZ house has presented a once in a lifetime opportunity. A house full of undeniably attractive men that you all get to experiment and discover yourselves with without any judgment.

Unfortunately, you cannot deny any of their logic.

Sunday afternoon, the house is abuzz as you and the girls shuffle your belongings around. You make a stop in Chan’s room to grab your linen. You make a beeline for your bed, pull the sheets off the mattress and bundle them up with the pillows and all. You hold them close to your face on your way out, obstructing your view of him. It’s less painful when you don’t look at him.

You throw your sheets in the washing machine then head back up to Hyunjin’s room to get your clothes. You take enough outfits and underwear to last throughout your time away. Before you depart, Hyunjin kisses you and tells you that you’ll always be his favorite, to which you roll your eyes.

The idea of Hyunjin being with Allie doesn’t bother you as much as you thought. He’s a lover, through and through. And Allie’s a sweetheart—all the girls are—and she should experience what it’s like to have a man spoil a woman the way Hyunjin can. You know he can do those things with her without any inhibitions, and it doesn’t mean he cares for you any less.

Chan on the other hand…

No. You don’t want to imagine him doing the things you’ve done together with anyone else. It has to happen, you know that, but you can push the thoughts out of your mind any time they surface. You will have to tell yourself it’s for the greater good or some bullshit like that.

You choose to stay with Seungmin tonight, since it’s Sunday. Although Changbin would be an entertaining distraction, you feel closer to Seungmin. You also feel that with the rapport between you two, he’ll be less likely to make a move on you. You don’t know if you’ll be ready for that in week one…or even week two.

When you first walk into his room on the second floor, it’s brighter and cleaner than you expected. Like, pristinely clean—everything properly in its place. Not a gym bag or dirty sock in sight. His bed is against the wall with two windows on either side, overlooking the front yard. Your twin bed is to the side of his.  

You can’t shake how weird it feels being in his room…to be bringing your belongings in here. As you finish putting your sheets on the bed next to his, you hear a knock at the door. You turn around to see Seungmin sauntering in with his new, short haircut and a smile on his face. 

“Welcome,” he greets. “You have enough room for everything?”

“Yeah…Rhi cleared out a drawer for me.”

“Good. Make yourself at home…get comfortable.”

“Comfortable with the idea of being passed around between you guys?” you scoff.

“I didn’t say it like that. Do you not want to be here with me?” he asks blatantly, walking towards you.

He comes to a stop in front of you and you instinctively take a small step back. You’ve never been this close to him before. In a bedroom. His bedroom. He wraps his arm around you, placing his palm against the small of your back. He pulls you closer to him and your breath catches in your throat at the sudden move.

“I don’t know,” you manage to get out.

You can see so much of his face now that he’s cut his hair. There’s no denying that he’s handsome, attractive even. Your body feels flushed all over, but you can’t tell if it’s from the proximity or something else. His dark brown eyes meet yours, reading you for a moment, gauging your reaction. Can he sense your apprehension?

“The separation is meant to be a lesson,” he tells you. 

“A lesson in detachment?”

“It teaches us that the work towards our futures outweigh any joy, pain or sadness we may feel or experience in the present.”

You don’t like the way he recites that as if it’s been drilled into his head from a young age.

“Does my hand here make you uncomfortable?” He draws your attention back to how close the two of you are standing. He presses his hand harder against the small of your back.

“I don’t know,” you answer truthfully. 

“You don’t know a lot apparently,” he teases as he drops his hand. He turns around to walk to his bed. “We have time to figure it out, though.”

“What if I’m simply not attracted to you in that way?”

He sits on his bed, facing you, and cocks his head to the side. A crooked smile plays out on his lips as if what you just said is ludicrous. 

“Sometimes attraction can grow,” he answers. “You just have to be open to it.”

“What if I don’t want to be?”

He’s silent for a while. When he responds, his tone is compassionate.

“Then you’re setting yourself up for a lot of pain at the end of this semester, y/n.”

He doesn’t mean to hurt you with what he says. You know that. None of them do when they’re simply stating the facts of the situation. However, they’ve had much longer to come to terms with this than you.

“I know…you’re right.”

“Don’t stress yourself out over it,” he shrugs. “This rotation isn’t only about physical attraction. We don’t want just sex from our assignees. It’s more than that. You can connect with multiple people in multiple ways and still find value in the differences.”

You remember how Hyunjin explained everything from his perspective at the start of all this. Seungmin seems to have his own take on it, too.

“So, you won’t hate me if we don’t fuck?”

He laughs.

“No. But I do sleep better at night when I’m holding someone.”

You chew on the inside of your bottom lip, mulling it over.

“I can maybe agree to that. Maybe.”

He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. You grab the pillow from your bed and throw it at his face.

The first time you see Hyunjin and Allie together is a little jarring, but not upsetting. They’re sitting next to each other on the couch, his arm is draped around her shoulder. Allie seems comfortable with him, as you expected. He has a natural way of putting people at ease. He winks at you, and you feel yourself smiling in return.

You don’t see much of Chan, except in passing or if he decides to have dinner at the table with everyone. You haven’t spoken to each other since that day in the hallway. You wish you could say the heat you feel whenever he’s near is burning out, that it feels cold between the two of you, but it’s the exact opposite.

It's hardly working.

Your first two nights with Seungmin, you sleep in your own bed. You two stay up talking about the most random things. On your last night with him for the first week, you climb into his bed with him and bring your own blanket.

“Really?” He remarks as you crawl towards him.

“Take it or leave it,” you reply.

“I’ll take it,” he concedes.

He waits for you to get situated, then cuddles up behind you. There’s enough blanket material between you, though, so you can hardly feel where his body is pressed against yours. You let out a breath and try to relax. Laying like this, you’re not uncomfortable with him, which is a relief. It doesn’t feel wrong, necessarily, but it doesn’t feel quite right either.

“So,” he says quietly. “I’ve decided on my useless superpower.”

“Worse than being able to teleport only an inch at a time?”

You’re starting to enjoy your nightly nonsensical conversations. It’s a nice change of pace. You can unwind from the day with the unseriousness of it all.

“I can identify any poison—even if it’s tasteless or odorless. But I have to ingest it.”

“And are you immune to it?”

“No. I’d die.”

Your body shakes with laughter. He chuckles behind you and pulls you closer to him.

Thursday, February 8th is Jeongin’s birthday and your first night with Changbin. You take a few of your things to his room on the third floor, down the hall from Chan. His room is just as you expected. A little messy, but he calls it organized chaos. After you put your things away, you both go down to the basement to join the others.

As you reach the last few steps, you immediately catch sight of Chan sitting at the bar. His back is towards you and he has a drink in front of him. He looks over his shoulder and your eyes lock for a brief moment, but you quickly avert your gaze.

“What’re you drinking?” Changbin asks.

“Whatever you’re having,” you shrug.

“That’s my girl,” he grins, walking behind the bar to pour you both drinks.

Chan knocks back the brown liquid in his glass and refills his cup.

You slip past him, trying to ignore how erratic your pulse becomes, and make your way to the back area of the basement. The TV is on and karaoke mics have been connected to it. The lyrics to the song are displayed on screen, but Jeongin and Seungmin know the words by heart as they face the ‘audience’ and belt their adorable little hearts.

You take a seat on the couch and let your eyes roam around the room; everyone is in their mixed-up pairings. Charlotte is sat between Felix and Lee Know in deep conversation. Rhiannon, now with Jeongin and Han, is seated in Han’s lap, watching the performance. You don’t see Hyunjin and Allie though.

Changbin sits next to you and passes the drink he made. You take a sip and make a repulsed face.

“It’s my special concoction,” he beams.

“It tastes like death.”

“Only the strong can handle it,” he taps his cup against yours before taking a drink.

You take another sip and grimace.

Felix and Charlotte are next up on the mics. They do a hilariously horrible rendition of ‘Summer Lovin’’ from Grease, but you cheer them on anyway. Changbin wraps his arm around you as you both watch and sing along. The more time that passes and the emptier your cup gets, the easier it is to relax against him. And you can’t lie, for as buff as he is, he’s oddly soft and comfortable to lay on.

You nudge Changbin to go when the mic is free.

“I’ll show you how it’s done,” he says. “This is a crowd pleaser—this one is for you, y/n.”

He queues up his song and as soon as the beat starts playing, you can’t hold yourself together. He chose ‘Run the World (Girls)’, by Beyonce and his performance does not disappoint—accompanied by dance moves and all.

Hyunjin and Allie come into the basement then and Hyunjin falls to the floor in laughter. Changbin doesn’t miss a beat and keeps putting on the show of a lifetime. You glance behind you; Chan is still seated at the bar and even he has a small smile on his face.

“Who’s next?” Han asks when he and Lee Know finish singing ‘Take On Me’ by a-ha.

“Chan-hyung” Jeongin shouts and points at him.

You look behind you and Chan is adamantly shaking his head.

“For my birthday,” Jeongin adds to guilt trip him. “Stop being boring and old.”

Lee Know stalks over to Chan, grabs him by the arm and pulls him into the room with everyone else. Chan takes the mic from Lee Know and lets out a sigh. With him in front of you, you feel yourself inch away from Changbin the slightest bit.

“For your birthday,” he agrees, clearing his throat. “What do you wanna hear?”

“That new song you were finishing up last week,” Jeongin says.

“No, not that,” Chan scrunches up his face and shakes his head. You notice him wobble a bit with the motion and wonder how much he’s had to drink.

Jeongin stands from the couch and connects his phone to the karaoke speaker.

“Yes, that. It’s my birthday.”

The song starts to play, and Chan is facing the TV, though no lyrics appear on screen. The sound of his vocals surprises you. You heard the song from their chapter project, but this sounds so different. His voice comes out passionate and effortless all at once. And the lyrics. You can’t help but hang on to every word that comes out of his mouth.

“We’re pulling at each other like magnets, the rules are telling us to ignore them.”

He was working on this last week?

“All that I want is you, even if I’m a fool. Why do I fall for you? No turning back once we’re connected.”

He turns around to face everyone as he continues singing. His eyes land on you and you set your cup down. A weird feeling is growing in the pit of your stomach, making you feel uneasy and nauseous. Thankfully, he doesn’t stare at you long enough to draw attention.

When the song is over everyone claps and Jeongin thanks him with a hug. He accepts the embrace, hugging him back, before making his way back to his lonely seat at the bar.

Rhiannon drags you up next and you agree to do ‘All About That Bass’. If it weren’t for her at your side, you’d be absolutely mortified. But you’re having a good time, it takes your mind off the previous performance. Towards the end of the song, though, you spot Allie next to Chan at the bar. She’s standing between his legs, one arm on his shoulder and he has one on her waist. You wonder what they’re talking about. You can’t help it.

You turn away from them and stare at the lyrics on the screen, even though you don’t need to read them. It’s just easier to look at right now.

When the song is over, Hyunjin takes his turn—doing ‘Versace on the Floor’ by Bruno Mars. Changbin acts as though Hyunjin is singing specifically to him throughout the performance.

The next time you look behind you, Chan and Allie are gone.

It’s nearly one in the morning when everyone else starts to disperse. You and a stumbling Changbin return to his room. You notice Chan on the couch in the living room, but he doesn’t say anything to anyone as you all pass by.

“Only the strong can handle it, huh?” You say to Changbin when you enter his room.

You only had one cup—you lost count of how many he had. Too many, judging by the way he’s struggling to remain upright and take off his belt at the same time.

“Here, let me,” you say, going to help him. “Be still.”

He drops his hands and lets you unbuckle his belt. Once you have it off, he immediately begins to unbutton his pants. You shake your head and turn around, not wanting to see him accidentally expose himself. You hear his pants hit the ground, then the sound of him falling onto his mattress.

“The room is spinning,” his voice is muffled.

You retrieve his water bottle from his desk and take it to him on the bed. You help him get beneath his blankets before making him drink from the water bottle. When you move to stand, his arms lock around your waist.

“Can you play with my hair?”

Of all the men in the house to want to be babied—you would not have guessed it to be him.

“Drink some more first,” you tell him.

He does as he’s told, and you position yourself on the bed with your back up against the pillows. He nestles his head into your lap, and you stroke his soft, dark locks. It doesn’t take long for him to doze off.

You slip away from him and change into your pajamas before heading back downstairs to get water for yourself.

On the first floor, you see Chan in the living room. He’s still sitting on the couch; the TV is still on but now muted. He turns to look at you. You keep your eyes locked in front of you and continue into the kitchen. Of course, there aren’t any more water bottles in the fridge when you check there first. At least it means everyone was staying hydrated tonight.

You go to the pantry and retrieve as many water bottles as you can hold at once. When you turn to exit, Chan is standing in front of you. He reaches for your waist and pulls you against him.

“Why are you doing this to me?” he asks huskily, eyes dark and glazed over.

[ read chapter 23 here ]

a/n: i won't make you wait too long for chapter 23, it's already complete. it's chan's POV and will rehash some of the things we saw here, and then pick up where this ends! i'm sooooo excited for you all to read it.

[afreakingdork]

You Are My Sunshine, My Only Moonshine - Chapter 9

RotTMNT x Reader

I am constantly blown away by this chapter art by @yamin-yups

Rated: Teen and Up Audiences

Relationships: Michelangelo (TMNT)/Reader, Michelangelo (TMNT)/You, Donatello (TMNT)/Reader, Donatello (TMNT)/You

Warnings: POV Second Person, Gender Neutral Reader, Anxious Reader, Introverted Reader, Stuttering, Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, Romance, Love, Love Confessions, Falling In Love, Unrequited Love, Rejection, Aromantic Asexual Michelangelo (TMNT), Bisexual Donatello (TMNT), Pansexual Leonardo (TMNT), Lesbian Cassandra Jones | Foot Recruit, Demisexual April O'Neil (TMNT), Implied Cassandra Jones | Foot Recruit/April O'Neil/Sunita, Endgame Donatello (TMNT)/Reader, Romantic Love, Platonic Love, Panic Attacks, Sexuality Crisis, Agoraphobia, Social Anxiety, Happy Ending, Fluff

Synopsis:  You’ve lost most of your life to anxiety and fear. Now, in your late 20s, you are desperate to reclaim it and during one such outing you encounter the sun personified. With his and his similarly celestially inspired family, will you finally reach your goal or will you lose yourself along the way?

This chapter contains reference to body dysmorphia. Remember that what you feel is completely valid, but we can sometimes see ourselves differently than we really are. Please keep yourselves safe.

Also available on Ao3

First 💛 Previous

“Maybe we take a break from going out into the packed public for once?” Mikey was upside-down, but compensated by holding his phone the opposite way. 

It put him right side up in the video chat, but the view was extra blurry. “Is that… okay?”

“I’m the one suggesting it!” Mikey stuck out his tongue, but his reflection seemed to confuse him on which way the appendage should go. “It’s been awhile. I haven’t been able to see you.”

“Yeah… well…” Though for you it would have been predictable, Mikey hadn’t felt the firsthand effects of your setbacks yet. 

Panic attacks always caused you to withdraw into yourself. 

You weren’t supposed to.

There were times when it was easy to keep going.

Others, such as now, left you homebound for as long as society allowed.

The push to normalcy now included your thoughtful friend.

“Do you know after my tremors went away, I spent months avoiding art because I was afraid of how it would look?” Mikey told you casually. 

You weren’t sure what he was talking about.

You tried to recall something about tremors, but came up short.

You wanted to ask more, but there was a more startling aspect than the content itself.

You couldn’t believe there was ever a period where Mikey avoided art as he had been nothing, but a loud proponent of all its merit.

“Why?”

“Because I knew my level and then… I didn’t. I knew I’d have to get back there. It was like riding a skateboard, but needing to take that time? For a second time. Chancing the bad result? It was like my healing was one thing and then by doing that it would show me just how much further I still needed to go. Like that dude with the cat and the box. I didn’t want to open it and find out. I couldn’t do it.”

“Isn’t the saying… something… about riding a bike?”

“We were skateboard tots!” Mikey rolled over and with it so did his camera, inverting the image.

You nodded lightly.

“I switched up crafts. Started new ones that weren’t so finger focused. Pour paints and candle work!” He made grabby hands at the lens as he fixed his phone angle.

“Something low key…” You hummed where you were sitting at the foot of your bed.

“Yeah, something quiet, calm, and… oh! Oh yeah!” There was another flip, but this one was out of excitement.

“D-don’t… bust through a wall…!”

Mikey appeared within a flurry of static. “Did you just make a Kool-Aid Man joke?”

“I make jokes!”

The wattage of his smile turned up to a blinding degree. “Well then I’ve got just the wall to bust through!”

-

“No.” Donnie glowered over his shoulder.

“Please!” Mikey bounced his plea with his head straight up to the ceiling of the garage you were currently in.

An oddity in the subway, but something you imagined had to exist based on logic, your eyes were openly roving around the tidy depot.

“Absolutely not.” Lifting out from under a hood and minding his head, Donnie craned an elbow to the engine block he was working on. “You know you’ve been banned.”

“One time!” Mikey groaned.

“No!” Donnie felt the need to rip off his leather work gloves to throw an unencumbered finger in Mikey’s face. “You were banned once after crashing eleven separate times!!”

“Eleven?!” You squeaked.

Mikey flipped back and forth between the two of you, obviously caught in who to address first. “My driving is fine!” He chose you and then flipped to Donnie. “I’ve changed!”

From the duffel that was slung around your body, you had already been clinging to the strap as it gave you something comforting to hold on to. With the new knowledge that you had almost been driven somewhere rural by someone with that kind of driving record, you now scooped up the entire sack to soothe yourself. 

“Forget that.” Donnie flicked his gaze to you. “You’d need a full crash suit to survive him.” He then folded his gloves into a pair and went to check his tool box.

You wilted further.

“We’re already packed!” Mikey rounded a new argument. “This is going to be our big, no-stress, relaxing getaway and you’re making it exactly not that!” 

“That’s unfortunate. The bus station isn’t far.” Donnie knelt down to get a wrench.

“And how’s that going to work!? We get dropped at some station and walk to the cabin!? You know it’s in the middle of nowhere!” Mikey stepped up to throw menace over his brother.

Donnie smelled it a mile away and lifted his head, pouring twice the malice. “Oh, you want to play?”

Mikey gulped and nodded his head once. “Let us borrow a car, the tank, a shell cycle, whatever! You’re being unfair!”

“Your planning is poor.” Donnie was slow to get on one knee. “You’re ill equipped.” To the other, he got a foot under him. “You’ve informed no one.” Rising to his towering height above his brother, he loomed. “You walk into my garage, where I am in the midst of my own personal and much needed zen in the form of refurbishing my newest baby and expect me to drop the keys of another into your hands knowing full well that you have destroyed more vehicles on more occasions than I can count on our joined mutant fingers and toes because you just so happened to suddenly decided that you needed to take a weekend trip with your friend of which whom you have a similar slapdash scheme going on with to go to our family’s cabin up north on a whim!?!”

Having watched Donnie not take a single breath, you backed up nearly the same distance that Mikey’s head had shrunk down into his shell.

“Y-yes?” Mikey peeped.

“No.” Donnie said the word firm and quiet, but punctuated it with a tap to Mikey’s plastron which caused the stiff turtle to fall over. “Now leave me to my work.”

Only a shell laying there, you leaned forward to look over Mikey without compromising your spot.

Donnie swung his wrench and moved over to a creeper with the intention to disappear under what looked like a turtle-themed moon buggy.

“You-” Your voice echoed in the garage and you tensed up.

Mikey’s head emerged from his shell to peek at you.

Donnie halted his motion, but didn’t turn.

“You… um… could… come with us?”

You watched Donnie’s lips wobble with disdain.

“N-Not a-as a d-driver! Y-you said…”

In a loud pop, all of Mikey’s limbs emerged. “That’s a great idea!!!”

In a smooth rotation, Donnie both turned and lifted his wrench with a threat.

Mikey crab walked several paces away.

“I’m disappointed.” Donnie sent a glare in your direction. “If your thought is even-” He caught a glimpse of his wrench. “-5/16ths as moronic as his then you are banned from the garage itself. Know that, would you still like to continue speaking?”

Gaze plummeting, your heart tried to escape and you screwed the whole of you shut to keep it inside.

Your entire body shook with the force of your nerves and you had to wait until your BPMs dropped to a manageable limit before you could manage speech. “You… said… m-much needed… so maybe… the trip would… well… be calming… for you too?”

There was a clink of metal hitting the ground.

Banned.

You were banned from the garage.

That was fine.

In theory, it wasn’t.

In theory, you were mortified.

Despite your best efforts, you had never been banned from anything.

Now you were.

A glaring dark spot on your permanent record.

Was Mikey a bad influence?

“You do say driving gets your mind off things…” Mikey said with a sudden supportive starkness.

You kept your gaze firmly rooted to the floor in shame.

“Also hold up!” In a slap of feet against concrete, Mikey righted himself. “You take a few of those things back, Don! I may have pushed the idea through, but it was not poorly planned or ill equipment or whatever you said! Y/N worked crazy hard on putting together everything in the short time frame I laid out!!”

You twitched.

“There’s maps, multiple trails marked, a calculated amount of water, with extra rations, flares… Like do you think this other bag is mine? Heck no! I’m not bringing anything! Both these bags are Y/N’s! They’re both stuffed with… stuff! Like-like!” You felt Mikey come over to you. “How you contacted the ranger’s station to tell them we’d be in the area? I’ve never even thought of that! We’ve never done that have we, Dee?”

Donnie continued his bout of silence that you didn’t dare look upon.

“What else…?” Mikey slapped his forehead. “I mean, come on! I can’t even remember it all!”

“I… got that satellite phone… you were pretty excited… about it.” You mumbled to the ground.

“With the backup batteries, Donald!” Mikey hummed a self-important sound. “The backup batteries!!”

The garage made it very clear that Donnie was walking over to you.

You bounced ever so slightly to garner the courage to meet his eye.

“Who did itinerary?” Donnie asked. 

“Me.” Mikey remarked casually.

“I assume food too?” Donnie’s voice was heavy with judgment. 

“Nope.” You could see a swoop as Mikey folded smug arms.

“That’s not quite…” You cleared your throat. “Mikey… shared his… favorite dishes that you… all make…when you… go.”

Donnie dipped into your eye line and you startled.

He’d bent at his waist and come down at a perfect angle.

You stared with warped lips.

“How long?” He narrowed his gaze.

“T-the trip?” Your gaze wobbled.

Mikey opened his mouth and Donnie threw out an arm that, by the sound, must have slapped the younger in the face.

“Yes.” Donnie kept his hand in place.

“Tonight… tomorrow… back Sunday?”

“Is that a question?” Donnie’s head tilted.

Mikey grunted, annoyed.

“No…” You got out, quiet.

“You agreed knowing full well you’d be alone with him?”

Slapped with a similar heat from the first time you’d realized that fact, you gave a tight nod.

‘We have separate rooms!’ Mikey mumbled through closed lips with surprising clarity.

“And that’s okay?” Donnie disappeared.

You chased him up to find he’d released Mikey and was waiting on him for an answer.

“It’s a no brainer.” Mikey nearly rolled his eyes. 

Donnie’s brow lowered, unsatisfied.

“Yes, it’s okay because it isn’t a thing.” Mikey huffed around his clarification.

“I suppose… I’ve been persuaded.” Donnie looked down thoughtfully and you watched him trace back to where he’d dropped his wrench.

Mikey jumped into the air with a sudden bout of energy and caught your hands to spin you.

“Y-y-yay!” You stutter, stalling on the rotation.

“Cabin, here we come, baby!” Mikey cheered. 

“I need my things!” Donnie barked. “And you.”

You jolted. “Y-yes?”

“You will send me triplicate copies of your plans.”

“S-sure…” You spastically patted yourself down for your phone.

“I refuse to engage with either of your antics.” Donnie’s own appeared in his hand. “I am no third wheel. I am coming because I will apparently have to deal with your whining otherwise and because I am not in the mood for the lecture from Nardo and Raphael when they return.”

“Have they texted yet?” Mikey peered over Donnie’s shoulder.

“No. Security detail means one must pay-” Donnie suddenly dropped and ducked through Mikey’s legs in one fluid movement. “-attention. This is why you weren’t requested.”

“And why didn’t they request you, hm?” Mikey pushed his lips into one corner of his mouth.

“Because…!” Donnie trailed off with widened eyes. “My talents lie elsewhere! Enough interruptions. I will drive and then you will leave me be! I am to have my zen! Is that understood?”

“Yeah, yeah, crystal.” Mikey finally did roll his eyes.

Donnie took a few steps away as you found your phone and held it unsure of how to send him the details.

“He’s totally going because he heard ‘yakiniku’ when you mentioned we were making my favorite foods.” Mikey walked over to you with a smirk.

You watched Donnie take an irritated pause before continuing on to get his things.  

-

The ride in the tank had passed with booming music and a tour from Mikey that you only visually participated in because you were terrified to move about the cabin. The younger seemed not to notice as he explained parts with stories more than function. Donnie alternatively, had shades on that further marred his calculated expression and he said nothing as the studious driver.

Leaving the city and entering scenic woodlands, you were soon left to admire the views until you eventually deviated off the road toward the cabin. Tracking it with the little local map you had found, you busied yourself in the comfortable way that most people disliked on road trips: silence in a cozy bubble all your making.

There didn’t have to be talk, that’s what road trip mixes were for.

You only made exceptions for car games. 

You liked that they had simple rules and there were little stakes to be had. 

You only wished cars were safer modes of transport.

There was also something to be said about environmental impact and the culture of automobiles in America, but other than that, you found them nice.

Pulling up to what you imagined was a quiescent place, Mikey could not be restrained a second longer.

Out of the tank in a flurry, you watched through the windshield as his form screamed straight up the cabin’s steps. “He doesn’t do great on car rides, huh?”

“Sitting still for too long? Michael?” Donnie rose from the captain’s chair.

You gave a small smile and gathered up the few things you’d taken inside with you. Your actual bags were stored in an outer compartment and Donnie waited for you as a safety net as you made the harrowing steps down the tank ladder and to the ground. Landing with little fault, you joined him in getting the luggage until Mikey tore back over to grab some of the load. He talked loudly of dust that had accumulated and Donnie griped at him that it was obvious they’d need to clean.

You fondly watched the two bicker and set-up became the next directive. Throwing back plastic sheets that coated furniture, Donnie had a multitude of inventions to clear the space quickly. You had to run to the windows to release the dust tornadoes formed. Making it out mostly unscathed, you then helped Mikey hang bug nets. With the late Spring weather warming the air, soon everything was prepped and Mikey did a little closing dance number, capping off the preparatory part of the trip.

“Swimming hole time!” Mikey cheered and then turned knowingly on Donnie. “Then BBQ and prompt lights out so I can make a lumberjack breakfast first thing!”

“We’re grinding beans… we roasted…” You offered softly. “Uh… Coffee… beans… that is…”

“Oh yeah, I forgot we took that class.” Mikey chuckled. “You almost fell into that sack!”

You squashed a noise of distress at the memory.

Understanding the schedule, Donnie dismissed himself with a turned foot and headed to one of the cabin’s many rooms. You were left to look about the quintessential log cabin where the huge living space and connected kitchen then butted up against a row of doors. They spoke of many rooms that traced the back of the cabin and then up a staircase to a second floor. From what you could see, there were about eight rooms in all. The entire cabin then had a wraparound porch that extended into the wilderness. It was land that both belonged to nature and not, but Mikey had been cagey about revealing property lines. 

“Welp!” Mikey folded his hands on his hips. “Your boy needs to get wet before he explodes.”

You gawked at him.

“Seriously!” He was looking out over the cabin with a vacant stare that held a sort of unhinged quality. “First the car, then stuck inside? This is not an inside trip. if I am not unleashed in the next, oh I don’t know… 2 minutes, I’m going to lose it!”

“Uh…!”

“You got those trail maps?” He turned, both looking through you and not at.

“Y-yes!”

“I color coded the one to the watering hole. Orange, obviously.” Mikey approached with a waggling brow ridge. “I saw you in the car, keeping perfect pace. It was awesome.”

“Just to s-stay b-busy!”

“Uh huh! Your smile said otherwise! You’ll meet me there then! Same way!” He patted your shoulder once with a whack before bolting out the door.

You stared after him now knowing why he’d chosen to travel in his swimsuit.

Looking down at your road trip ensemble, you still felt sure of your decision to take the few hour drive comfortably.

There was a noise of a door opening and Donatello emerged, changed into a casual outfit punctuated by purple swim trunks.

You stared at him and felt a little like a caught fawn.

Donnie took you in before his gaze dulled with understanding. “He ditched you.”

“I’m… going to meet him.”

“He always does this.” Donnie responded dismissively. “You should have seen him in time out as a tot.”

“Oh?”

“One minute in time out for him was comparative to thirty for the rest of us.” Walking around a large kitchen bar, Donnie studied the rations.

You took a few steps toward him for the sake of it.

“He’s so impatient.” Donnie murmured, poking several waters aside to find a carton of juice boxes that Mikey had insisted on. He quickly tossed the set into the fridge. “He’s not even an aquatic turtle.”

You sort of wished you had done more research past looking up pictures of their species.

“You’re losing daylight.” He emerged from the fridge. “Or are you not swimming?”

“I-I am…!” You squeezed a fist to your chest. “Are… you coming too?”

Donnie blinked slowly at you. “No, why?”

“Oh…” You shouldn’t have assumed. He’d already told you otherwise. “Sorry… your bottoms… I thought…”

“Board shorts.” He punctuated the words with an odd accent.

You gave an unsure nod.

“I’m glad their sign was translated.” He glanced down at himself.

“Sorry…” You murmured when he made no further movement and quickly left to avoid any awkwardness.

You weren’t sure what you expected.

It’s not like you wanted to exclude Donnie.

You knew that pain too well.

You also didn’t want to make him feel unwelcomed.

You were painfully aware of that too.

He hadn’t wanted to be a third wheel and you had made it a silent mission to keep that from happening.

Something else you’d experienced in the past, you’d been the unwilling chaperone on more than one occasion just to satisfy parent’s minds. The good one, in their minds, you had always been ditched and the feeling wasn’t one you cared for. Shoving past the bygone era, you were seen now and you tried to relish that.

The sun’s attention was a fickle thing, but you were getting more use to losing Mikey’s. Something you thought should scare you, instead you felt your friendship with Mikey was stronger than ever. You no longer feared losing him in the same intangible way and you weren’t sure if you should crop that up to Mikey’s feelings about you. Instead it felt as though you’d reached a better status quo where Mikey’s running off felt more like the sun moving on its predetermined rotation. It would eventually round back to you and in that way you expected Mikey’s claustrophobia even if you hadn’t known about it.

You picked a room at random and rummaged through the duffel that you placed on your bed. There was a woodsy smell that teetered on musty in a way that spoke of it being well lived in even if its occupants only came every so often. You had your own little stand up mirror, nightstand, dresser, and a closet though you doubted you’d use anything past the first. Pulling out a single slick piece of black fabric, you double checked the door was closed before changing.

The perfect swimsuit was one you hadn’t imagined you’d find. Not one for flashy things, you only wanted a muted cover that also happened to cover you. Water did unimaginable things to fabrics and you hated the way it clinged. You wanted something you could disappear in, that brought no unnecessary attention, and could be forgotten on your end. Finding it in a matter of minutes into shopping as opposed to the years it took when you were younger, the item had even been on sale.

Stepping into it and pulling it up, you shimmied into the fabric and turned for that same show stopping image you’d seen in the changing room.

What stared back was an image of allure.

No.

That was wrong.

That’s not what it had looked like.

It had covered you.

It hadn’t accentuated anything.

It was simple.

You squirmed, changing angles in hopes that it would get better, but each only revealed more.

What had changed?

You’d purchased it this week.

Were you hallucinating?

Was there something in the wooden walls?

Had the tank crashed and this was you playing out some morbid purgatory?

You pinched yourself.

A sting bit your forearm and you threw your gaze back at the mirror for the unwilling shapes it concocted.

This wasn’t right.

You wanted to swim.

There was no way you could.

Miserably turning away from your image, you rooted through your bag for a cover up. Finding one in some oversized t-shirt you’d brought for comfort, you held it and hated that this wasn’t the way you imagined it would be employed. You figured it’d be a back-up pajama top and not something to hide your shame away in. Clinging to the fabric, you hastily pulled it over your head with an imaginary clock ticking away because Mikey was waiting.

You were ruining everything.

Stumbling out into the living room, you found yourself alone.

Momentarily thrown, but shaking off how Donnie wasn’t a priority right now and the guilt that came with that, you went for your pile of maps. Finding the trail one with the orange lines, you gathered some shoes and careened down the porch.

Buzzing insects mocked your sloppy descent as you rotated the map to be on your course. Following it more than your way, you took the necessary inlet and folded its winds to a drawn T. Bushes and trees concealed you, but the splashing of what was beyond reached your ears faster than you’d hoped. A journey not long to its destination, you slowed as you came to the final bend. You could hear Mikey blabbing presumably to himself as he hooted before resounding sloushes followed. In your mind he jumped off some kind of ledge, you took a deep breath before making the final steps leading to the watering hole.

Somewhere quaint if you had the perspective for such a thing, a tree towered comfortably overtop a sizable pool. One mucked up from algae as the little stream feeding into it didn’t stir the water near enough, you watched roiling green as Mikey emerged with a flip of his wet hair.

“Y/N!” Mikey shouted happiness. “You made it! Come on in! The water’s fine!!” He swam backwards as if giving you room.

The guilt was staggering.

No, Mikey.

I won’t be swimming today.

My body looks like shit and I can’t stand it.

I’ll watch you though.

Have all the fun.

You deserve it.

Signing off your name, you slunk forward only to clip a sight of mixed purples.

Donnie craned his neck back to view you from beneath a large sun hat he’d put on. Sitting on a few rocks that made up the closest edge to you, his lids lowered in a way that said he was reading you like a book.

Hating how he did that, you squeezed the bulky hem of your shirt and walked up. “Uh… M-Mikey…?”

“A-yup!” He stopped splashing to hear you better.

“The… um… car ride… sort of took… more out of me than… I thought? Would it be alright if-!”

“You don’t have to swim.”

You blinked wide and over to him.

“If you don’t want to, don’t!” Mikey continued on. “Let’s compare: are you upset I’m swimming when you don’t want to?”

“O-of c-course not!”

“Then why should I care in the reverse?” He fell back and floated, eyes closed, on his shell.

That was right in a way.

Sweet in another.

You wished you’d put together the same reaction.

Inching closer, it felt like pouring water into an overtaxed bucket.

Another guilty drop in your damnation.

You’d seen your friend in a bad light.

Shirking all the more, you toed off your shoes and let your feet lay flat on one of the worn rocks. It put you near Donnie who’d become the moon on a sunny day’s backdrop. He shined upon the same stone and illuminated its age. The rocks were older and wiser than you’d ever be. They never worried about getting wet. They only knew how to exist, something you wished came as easily to you. Sitting down because you needed more of you to drink from the stone’s wisdom, you kept a lowered head to the water’s edge. It sloshed in a beckoning way and you imagined it too would feel good in a different way. 

You really had wanted to swim.

Imaging your tears would do little to fill up the pool while also overflowing it, you heard a tepid sigh beside you.

Eyes wide and shooting up across the pond, you then turned to where you’d sat down next to Donnie.

Someone who you mistakenly forgot about during your pity party.

How was that for a third wheel?

“It’s always something with you.” He spoke softly.

“Sure is.” You gave an awkward laugh.

“That’s…” He made a little concerned noise. “… I didn’t mean it in a cruel way.”

“You didn’t have to. It is.” You threw your legs off the rock and threatened to drown your toes in the water. “It’s a cruel fate. I’m…” You remembered yourself. “Sorry. Nothing. What are you doing here?”

“My species is aquatic.”

You snuck a glance. “You’re pretty dry then.”

“You are too.”

You frowned deeply and watched Mikey pick up a sun drunk grin as he spread his limbs out to float on. “I don’t know why I feel like this. Everything was fine before…”

“With what?”

“This…” You threw a hand over yourself. “Stupid ugly swimsuit.”

You could feel Donnie’s gaze linger.

“Just trust me.” You folded your legs against yourself.

 “I’m not sure I do.”

You squinted at the glistening water before looking at him.

“I barely know you.” He responded simply, waiting there.

“Oh.”

“Disappointed?”

“In what?” Your ugly side was leaking far beyond the reach of what your shirt could cover. “I didn’t think you trusted me. You may have been wrong about me being bad, but that wouldn’t make you less suspicious. So it’s not that. What’s left? The swimsuit sucks. It’s not like you wanna drool over it. I don’t want anyone too. I wanted to swim.”

Hearing your wish aloud, you pressed hard on your chest with your legs.

You could flatten out your entire form if only you were malleable.

“The water is opaque. I can alert Mikey and we’ll turn away so you can get in.”

You felt too far gone for solutions.

You weren’t worth the trouble.

Burying your chin into your knees, you stewed.

“You know how many times the others have made fun of my board shorts?”

You told yourself you didn’t care.

If that was the case then Donnie didn’t either. “Hundreds, though it might be my attitude when wearing them. I like the excuse. To have my day off and not worry about pleasantries. To not have to tailor myself to others. I can tell them to shove it. It’s my day off and how I look isn’t anyone’s damn business.”

Sounded like an odd hill to die on.

“Everyone should have those days.” Donnie craned his arms behind him and leaned back to soak up the rays he was in.

The tree overhead was clipping your light.

Donnie was free. 

Mikey was free. 

Head lifting a little, you pondered your friend.

He’d needed to get out and he did.

Now he was a vision, glowing amongst the pool.

In contrast there was you, wadded up and tossed away without even giving yourself the chance.

Another terrible reminder that this was the point.

This was what you were trying to avoid.

This was what you were trying to learn from.

Mikey didn’t even have to do anything to be himself.

He just was.

Instead of his usual bustle of light, he shined by matter of existence.

That was why you chased him. 

You wanted that. 

Staring at him until sun spots mucked up your vision, you turned the mass to Donnie.

Beside you in the same pose, he was more calculated.

He had to put on his wares.

His was an unseen struggle you hadn’t considered.

No one gleamed quite like Mikey.

That didn’t mean they didn’t shine in their own right.

Donnie’s darkened scales only threw prisms in a different way.

The cool moon’s glow.

Letting your legs fall, this time your feet drew to the allure of the water.

Just out of reach, you stared hard, making sure the pair would keep their eyes closed.

The both of them were still as if asleep, but you waited past whatever insect was chirping before you slowly tugged your hem out from under you. Emerging without more than the sound of rustling fabric, you rolled your shirt up around your waist. The next move was one harder to conceal, you threw a desperate glance at your friend.

Water rocked the resting Mikey like a babe and you wanted to feel that too.

You wanted to be nestled by the sun’s glow.

You wanted to feel weightless and have those burdens removed.

You yanked the shirt over your head and dropped it to your side.

Donnie stirred at the sound, but didn’t open his eyes.

“It’s… It’s okay… I’m not… okay… but I think I… I don’t want to care…”

He cracked a lid and stared skyward.

“It looked so different in the store.”

“How so?” He asked a whispy cloud.

“It looked… I don’t know… covering? Like it didn’t… show any bits. Like it… hid them away.”

He blinked slow and comfortable. “I’m a designer, you know.”

“What?”

“Genius Built Apparel. Where fashion meets function.”

You stared on.

Of course he was. 

He also built a tank and a legion of dusting robots. 

If this were any other family you’d think he was pulling your leg. 

You’d seen more than enough to believe. 

Most of your stare came from the cocky name. 

Though even that made sense. 

Donnie was a carefully constructed sphere. 

Who were you to take away his gloating? 

He tilted his head just enough to glimpse your face. “I’m serious. I’ve dissuaded Mikey from many a faux pas.”

You shook your head.

“May I?”

“What?” You switched to eyeing him.

“I can take a clinical eye. Examine stitching. Find your err.”

You bounced one of your legs.

You did want to know where it had all gone wrong.

You could theoretically fix it then.

Wash this all away in the water you so desperately wanted to get in.

“You won’t make it weird?”

“I don’t drool on the metaphorical clock; you were right about that, but I understand your concern. I have accosted you before.”

“Different kind of weird. That was mean weird. You were a jerk weird.”

Donnie chuffed and it rolled down his plastron.

You watched it fall into his lap before forcing your gaze back to his face in a rush. “Promise… Promise I can pull your hat down if you… do anything.”

“I won’t so a simple enough agreement. Sure.”

“Go… ahead…” You folded your arms to your sides, obviously nervous as you listened to his clothes move.

In a twist, he was examining you and he gave a faint hum.

Not wanting to see exactly how he saw you and growing miserable, you stared into the water.

You could throw yourself in and be done with it.

“Here.” He spoke.

You moved to the sound on instinct and found him pointing to your hip.

His eye was indeed one you imagined a tired scientist gave the samples he was cursed to study.

You immediately relaxed. “What?”

“This ruching here is meant to cover cellulite when the fabric gets wet. When dry it acts a similar concealment, but the way the strips are sewn are for the first purpose.”

“Oh…” You tilted your head to look.

“Thing is, it’s also leading lines.” He didn’t get any closer, but he mimed tracing the seams of the fabric that curled around your hip and beneath where you were sitting. “It’s meant to direct the gaze to certain assets.”

 You blew out an annoyed breath.

“Dressing room mirrors, where I imagine you first saw this, aren’t slapped on walls without thought. They're engineered with angles and lightning to make clothes look as flattering as possible.” He brought his eye to yours. “Where did you see yourself today?”

“There’s a… mirror in my room.”

Donnie’s lip twitched with distaste. “That floor length one?”

You nodded.

“Dad uses that one to feel tall.” He sneered openly. “It tilts up from below, the worst possible perspective.”

You blinked a few rapid times.

“It took the ruching and blew it up.”

“So it’s not… that bad?”

“It’s anything, it's tasteful!” He spoke with an irritation that said that should have been obvious. “It fits your body well. Does it have a certain allure? Yes, I’ve already spoken of assets, but it is not a piece that invites unnecessary solicitation.” 

“Assets, assets. What are you, an ass man?” You retorted automatically. 

“There is nothing quite like sinking your teeth into that soft, inviting flesh.” He took your response and held it between his teeth.

In a blink, you saw an imaginary Donatello around your hips pointing to the fabric and on contact with the thought your face exploded.

“I say generally speaking, of course.” He clicked his tongue as if scolding you and turned away toward the water.

Hot.

You were too hot.

Run.

Throwing yourself forward, you submerged as indelicately as possible into the water.

Sinking like a stone into the silence, your burning flesh was quickly soothed by a cold lap.

A sweet embrace, you kicked to the surface and emerged with a pathetic gasp.

Never graceful, you shook yourself free of clingy drops and spun back around to view the rocks.

Donnie was staring up at the sky again and you sort of hated him for it.

Swim.

You’d swim with Mikey.

Spinning around, the other turtle was not only longer floating, but you couldn’t locate him at all. Quickly worrying that you had toppled him in your dive, you swam forward. “Mikey?”

Quieting to listen, you didn’t hear anything past the faint roiling of the water against its container.

Thinking he must have dove, you looked down to find Donnie’s earlier comment to be a correct one. With the water murky to a fault and a new fear cropped up. You had no idea what was in the water and you immediately darted for the closest shore. Something several long feet from Donnie, it was a sort of marshy landing that rocks from below steeping up to meet. They were covered in a slime that clung to your feet and had you pausing until you heard an off-toned lap behind you.

You whirled around with wide eyes and found a sea monster waiting for you.

Something matted with algae, it groaned pathetically and you sucked in enough air until the balloon was full enough to scream.

“What!? Who?! Where?!” The creature splashed with Mikey’s voice.

He’d been captured by another mutant.

You turned to get out of the water with some intention of getting to the tank.

It had to have missiles or something.

Anything to help.

You’d take a bowling ball launcher at this point.

Catching grip with one foot, you hoisted up the other. The many rocks acted like a disjointed ladder and your entire torso emerged from the water before one of your feet slid. The moment it happened felt like you were falling out of time. In slow motion, you knew your face was one of surprise. You painted an open expression where the imminent terror that you were falling couldn’t catch up as neurons to save yourself from the action. 

Your mind knew, but your face didn’t know that you were going to crack your head open on the rocks you just slipped on.

“Y/N!”

“Y/N!”

Two voices.

Too far.

Something skewered your side as the first injury of many.

Hoping only to black out on that first step, you willed your possessions to your friends.

You didn’t bother hoping they would remember you. 

You only hoped that they could make some use out of your worldly imprint.

No matter how small it was. 

Water rushed to greet you and shoved you away. 

That wasn’t right. 

That was the wrong direction.

Water swayed like waves. 

The equal and opposite reaction wouldn’t come until you fell in. 

Why had it preemptively come for you?

Your arms dangled heavily from gravity and you forced your eyes from wherever they had gone.

The monster was right in front of you. 

Its face was one of Michelangelo.

Green sludge caught in his blackened locks and his worried expression peered out from between a small part. 

He had you by the waist and was holding you up in the air. “Are you okay!?”

You were a loose toy strung up.

Flopping down, lifeless, you were a doll that couldn’t close its eyes until it was laid down.

A second deafening splash came as you hung there.

Mikey’s lips were moving awfully fast.

“Did they hit their head?!” Donnie’s voice broke through.

“No! Above water the whole time! Donnie! They aren’t saying anything, I don’t-”

“Shock?” Donnie wondered, but he never came into frame.

Where was he?

Mikey jostled you as one might bounce a colicky baby.

It was pulling a string on your back and you hacked on contact. 

You wheezed, forcing air in where terror had torn it from you. 

You fought. 

Not Mikey exactly, but the situation. 

It strung your arms back. 

It shoved your torso forward. 

It threw your head skyward. 

You gasped, alive. 

You saw blue.

It was the sky.

You hadn’t died.

Mikey had saved you.

Finally.

You came down from your arching to translate your joy. 

Mikey’s face slid into your vision and he was the picture of a boiled red tomato dotted with summertime spots.

He was looking at you. 

He had ogled you. 

He was embarrassed. 

Your blood pressure plummeted twice as fast as it had when you thought you were about to die.

This was worse.

This time you heard yourself scream as you lashed out.

Water flew up as if to welcome you, to bring you where you were meant to be. 

Drowned. 

Returned you to that place where you weren’t an object to be viewed.

You were a person floating free.

Liquid carried life.

It supported it.

It didn’t have it.

Vertigo struck you as you moved within a blink. 

In a disorientated spiral, your lids fell heavy as your inner ear tried to correct the imbalance. 

There were no longer hands around your waist. 

Something clicked like an engine uselessly turning over. 

Weary, you realized you were standing in a safe spot in the water. 

You drew up the dreary blinds of your curtain and found a muscled arm thrown out protectively in front of you. 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!!!” Mikey cried, loud and desperate.

“What the hell was that then!?” Donnie’s voice rang close.

That firm limb tucked you further behind someone. 

You were being shielded.

A squabble happened in front of you, but you only looked down at the jade appendage acting as your guard rail.

You touched the arm and it felt familiar.

“Don-nie?” Your voice came out synthetic.

His was the body you were behind and his face appeared in a whip of his head. “Are you alright? Can you swim? I’ll move.”

“I’m not…?” You weren’t swimming.

You weren’t doing anything.

You were standing in the water. 

“What…?”

You looked past Donnie and glimpsed Mikey with a faint blush still stuck to his cheeks.

“Y-you…!” It felt accusatory on your lips.

“I’m sorry!!!” Mikey screeched.

“Turn around, dummy!” Donnie growled hot and was in motion.

You were soon ushered into a spin with an indelicate hand to your back and all but rushed over to the rock you had jumped off of.

You heard a splash of what you assumed was Mikey growing distant behind you. 

You hoped that would cool him off. 

“You ready?” Donnie’s voice appeared like it was newly there. 

“For what?” You were already used.

What was left?

Was it time to take out the recycling?

“I’m going to lift you up. Your shirt is right there.” Donnie instructed. 

“My shirt…” You were forlorn.

It was your back-up comfort item.

“Ready?” Donnie asked again.

The water rocked you and you barely bumped his firm plastron. 

You nodded dumbly.

Your hips were taken in what you read as a clinical way. 

You were barely bounced once, then twice, in a way that ballet dancers got momentum to lift their partners. 

Sure enough, you were lifted cleanly out of the water.

Only this time you felt well handled.

You weren’t swung around like a toddler holding up their favorite doll.

A child who cared for his toys put you on a shelf.

When your knees touched down, you drank in the life of the rock and scrambled for your shirt.

All the things that had just occurred crashed into you.

Shoving your head through the hole, you yanked the shirt down your body as you were already in motion. Forest floor digging into your bare feet, you didn’t need the map to retrace your steps. You followed the single, winding, prickly path and emerged out by the cabin only to fly inside it. A sanctuary amongst the unrelenting woods, you left a rotting drip trail as you entered your room. Your door clattered from where you had thrown it open and you ripped your duffel bag to shreds to get to its confines.

Pulling on layer after layer, you could see Mikey’s blush with each piece of clothing.

He’d looked at you.

You shoved your feet into a third pair of socks.

His gaze was amorous.

Into a thermal that was very much against the season, you ran out of clothes and stormed the dresser.

Sexual.

There were oversized men’s clothes that struck you as maybe being Raph’s and you thanked their huge size.

You put shirt after shirt on.

Mikey had said, point blank, that he wanted to see how far his feelings went.

Why were you so stupid?

You screamed.

Raw and uncut.

Tearing at your larynx, you ripped a few too many layers off as they impeded your melt down.

You needed space to breathe.

You needed to be swallowed whole.

Stumbling out to that accursed mirror, the shape you found there was a frumpy one.

Smiling a teary look at it, you watched it warp your face into one of dismay and you cried.

Where had you last felt okay?

It wasn’t here.

Moving around the room you searched for it.

That intangible something that would help.

Knocking everything over, you finally got a hold of a much too large pillow and hugged it to your body.

It was large and not at all as firm as you wanted.

You needed a hard wall.

You needed that unrelenting nature.

You weren’t something to be judged with heat.

You needed a cold light the sun couldn’t supply.

The wall knocked.

You spun around with your pillow defense to find the back of a head waiting there.

“I come as an emissary.” Donnie spoke slow and methodical.

“You can-!” It wasn’t Mikey.

Your pillow fell slack into one hand.

It wasn’t Mikey.

You let it drop with a thump to the floor.

It wasn’t Mikey.

“…come in.”

You took a wobbly step to spread out your clothed legs in hopes of keeping yourself upright.

Donnie didn’t move.

“You can… come in…” You repeated, not sure if you had gotten the first phrase out.

“No.”

“No…?” You took another step and saw how Donnie was clearly beyond the boundary of your open door.

With his back to you. 

Not impeding on you in any way. 

“This is your space.” He spoke it like a finality. 

You stared at the knot of his mask tails and tried to place what you felt.

“Being out here with us…” Donnie let the sentence hang before he lowered his gaze to the floor. “I want to… respect that much.”

“Why’d you say it like that?”

“I prefer the term ‘sanctum,’ but I couldn’t fit it in.”

“A sacred place…?”

The back of his head nodded. “My lab is supposed to be one.”

Sanctums weren’t places to be invaded.

If they were then they were violated.  

He understood.

Is that what you felt?

Camaraderie?

Even his mania in the beginning had been one you made sense of.

Was that why you hadn’t complained?

No, you were rewriting history from your current perspective.

It was also the only one you knew.

It was one where you envied one man. 

It was where you once feared another. 

Now their roles were reversed. 

You never had to explain your misery to Donnie.

You didn’t have to make him understand.

He was the moon.

You rushed towards him.

Donnie heard the footsteps and made it about half a turn before you reached him. “As… I was saying, I talked to Michael and come in his stead to-”

You collided with that unrelenting wall of plastron. Finding an odd hinge between the front of his shell and the back, you did your best to tuck into that space and weaseled under his arm. You felt it rise above you, out of your way and a rotation brought you more towards his front. There you felt him stop to take your over-clothed form in.

“I’m sorry!” You choked on tears, rooting the sound as deep against Donnie’s wet clothes as possible.

He let your misery hang for exactly one second. 

Then he surrounded you in a soft moon glow.

He pulled you toward his chest and you burrowed closer to him.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I completely overreacted. It was just too much… Too much attention… the way he looked. He said… I thought he wouldn’t… I didn’t want…!”

A hand pet through the layers of your back.

Even and careful.

No further connotation other than to soothe.

Squirming to get your arms out from where you were crushing them, you wiggled them free to embrace him.

You squeezed a sigh right out of him.

“I know.” He spoke into your damp head. “I know…”

You nodded and basked in the tide. Pulled by the moon’s orbit, the waves rolled in and out with a sway. A gentle rocking, you were cast a comfortable drift by it. This was the one you had longed for from the swimming hole. Here, you floated amongst sturdy shores. Held safe, the guiding white light poured around you. One that pushed back against the darkness, it shone on you. Lucky to be in its reach, it wasn’t the type you soaked up. It instead washed over you in a cleanse. Feeling lighter and a little stifled, you extracted yourself from moisture to moisture.

Everything around you from your leaking face to the clingy pond water was soaked and you frowned down Donnie’s body. Standing in a little pool mostly created by him, you wanted to stick your tongue out at it, but you feared the bacteria clearly clinging to your skin.

“The cabin is yours tonight.”

Before you could register the words, you felt him strengthen his resolve with a puff of his chest.

“I don’t want to hear complaints otherwise.”

You wanted to pout.

“I checked the systems when we were doing our preliminary cleaning. The water will be hot. Shower, bathe, do whatever you’d like. We’ll be staying outside.”

You gave a faint nod to the wet floor.

“We’ll grill and I’ll make you a plate. Preference?”

You shook your head. “I don’t… feel like eating…”

“Bland it is.”

Now you were pouting.

“Y/N.”

“Yeah?” Your head felt heavy.

“I still have a message from Mikey to deliver.”

“I really don’t want to hear it.” Irritation brought you to look at him.

Donnie took you in with a sort of smile. “You’ll want to.”

You dropped your features in a way that said you didn’t believe him.

“He said he’s not ready to talk as he’s having his own crisis, but he’ll let you know when he’s ready to apologize.” Donnie tilted his head, almost amused.

You blinked straight out of your bitterness to stare openly.

Donnie gave a single knowing nod.

“Enjoy your shower.” With one last sweep over you as if to check you were all still there, Donnie turned and headed for the door.

Watching him go, you saw the faint amber hue of sunset.

“It’ll all work out.” Donnie tossed just as he grabbed the knob to exit.

You turned and stormed straight to the bathroom. Drowning in clothes and scum, you locked the door tight and turned the shower knobs to their highest setting. Leaving the water to warm, you started removing your outermost shirt. As soon as it hit the ground you felt possessed. You tore off your clothes with each subsequent layer removed at a faster and faster pace. You needed to be freed. You needed that ridiculous protection off of you as soon as possible. All of it soiled, you stripped down bare and left your feet for last.

The moment they were naked and pressed to tile, you leapt into the old style tub. Instantly boiled by the too hot water, you let it scorch you with clenched teeth at first until the burn seared and you adjusted the dial for something reasonable. Still a lobster in a pot, you scrubbed your skin until you thought it might flake and then doused it in suds until you couldn’t see its color. A sea of white foam, the second scrounge came through, washing the detritus away.

Pickled in the process, you emerged and greedily took up every towel in the room. It meant toeing around the disgusting mound of clothes you’d left, but Donnie had said the cabin was yours. Until tomorrow when you’d clean the place up, you instead mourned how you hadn’t even brought your toothbrush in with you. Scowling at a fog coated mirror, you cracked the door and watched the steam leak out.

Chasing it with your ear, you didn’t hear anything, but there was a distinct lemon scent.

You followed the smell into the hall where you quickly placed it was cleaner. The floor had a sheen to it that spoke of a recent mopping. The clean line ending abruptly at your door said exactly who the culprit was. Donatello had snuck back in to clean and you were thankful for it. He’d left your sanctuary untouched and instead set a stool just outside the door. 

On it was a stack of comfortable looking clothes and a note.

‘Keep your room or upgrade. I recommend the one upstairs, second bedroom on the right.’

You folded the note along its lines and placed it back on the offered clothes. You then gathered the lot and took it with you along with a brave face as you entered your room. You barely looked up as you salvaged what you could from your duffel. Carrying the mostly limp sack, you then moved to follow your recommendation. It led you through the darkened cabin and up the winding wooden stairs where the door in question was closed. Knocking on it out of politeness, you found it empty and slipped inside. It was decorated similarly, but clearly different. Comfortable in its own sense, you went about your nightly routine as best you could and thanked the space for not having a mirror. Growing more weary by the second, you thought vaguely of meat as you instead pulled back the covers.

Sinking in and imagining charcoal lighting the men’s faces, you settled down into the welcoming embrace of bed.

You eventually got up and padded across a tiled floor.

Pulling out a single slick piece of black fabric, you double checked the door was closed before changing.

The perfect swimsuit was one you hadn’t imagined you’d find.

What luck, you thought, as you slipped it on.

Stepping into it, you shimmied into the fabric and turned for that show stopping image in the changing room.

It was perfect.

It covered you in all the right ways.

Finally, the piece you’d been looking for.

Smiling and striking pose after pose, you saw a hand wave above the curtain.

“Come in!” You called to it. 

Sanctum’s were only to be entered with permission. 

“Silly.” You looked over your pleasing image once more. “Is it still a violation if I request it?”

“I guess not.” Instead of drawing the curtain back, Donnie slipped through it.

Tucking himself a strong wall behind you, he looked into the mirror at you.

What looked back held no heat, only appreciation.

“Do you like it?” He checked with you without passing judgment himself.

“I do…” You smiled.

He gave one of his own, though subdued, and flicked his gaze down. “Look here.”

You lowered your gaze to find him kneeling behind you. With his head popped out around your hips, he was looking up at you in a way you liked quite a bit.

You felt powerful.

You were a light bright enough for him to want to project.

“This ruching here has leading lines.” He didn’t touch you, but his hands ghosted over you along the fabric’s pattern.

Your lips parted and your chest filled with heat.

A celestial body was meant to look on.

You were safe. 

“May I?” He asked you once again. 

You were glad and responded with a breathless, “Please.”

His mouth opened a dark orbital maw, a new moon, which then glinted into a teeth-filled waxing crescent headed in its trek to sink into your soft flesh.

You jolted the moment the teeth supposedly hit their mark. 

You stared into the dark abyss and saw drifting images of sharpened grins. 

You were dizzy.

A sheen of sweat to you, you tossed back a cover. 

The black hovel above you took shape as logs in the cabin ceiling. 

They lined up like thick thighs appearing from where board shorts had hiked up. 

Begging for a taste.

Awareness struck with a sharp inhale.

Fully awake and doused with dread from your dream, you voiced your despair with a whisper.

“Oh no…”

💛 NEXT 💛

I swear I handed this to my betas over a year ago... @tmntxthings and @thepinkpanther83

[duskandcobalt]

Everywhere, Everything: Chapter Six

Chapter Summary: Elain is cornered into making a decision on the future of their relationship when Graysen asks her a question.

Word Count: 4.4k

Missed the first five chapters? You can find the Masterlist for this fic here 🥰

A/N: Happy W(no longer)IP Wednesday!!

As always, thank you for all your lovely comments and messages about this fic and others... and also just in general. I'm always so blown away by how lovely this community can be and I appreciate all the support and your patience so much. It's been a busy couple months and I am so excited to finally be posting this chapter. It contains the very first paragraph that I ever wrote for this fic all the way back in October last year so it feels very surreal that it's finally going up!

I do want to give a tiny warning for a potential trigger in regards to Graysen's behaviour. It's just a tiny part but it may prove difficult for some readers so please be aware of that before you read. I hope you like this chapter, please let me know what you think and what you think may happen next!

ENJOY XX

Read on AO3

Elain’s ears were filled with the sounds of chatter, the clinking of champagne coupes, and the romantic crescendo of whatever modern song the violinist in the corner of the room had recomposed to better suit the energy of the function tonight. She fidgeted with the neckline of her dress in an attempt to cool herself down. The room was packed with people and despite the otherwise cool night, she could feel the first bead of sweat running down her back. 

They were at Graysen’s parents house for yet another Saturday night dinner party. This one was another lavish soirée with no real purpose that his mother had thrown together for the weekend. Much like every one of these events, Elain only found out that she’d need to dress up to the nines when Graysen informed her in the shower that morning, with his arms around her waist and his lips against her ear, that she’d need to look extra pretty tonight.

 Elain always felt out of place at these things. She felt underdressed and unprepared. She was constantly worried about how everything she said and did would be perceived by Graysen’s parents and their friends. 

She’d become an expert at flying under the radar at these events - had figured out quickly that blending into the wallpaper was more tolerable than attempting to blend in with the crowd. She’d given up on the latter after the first couple of these Saturday night parties where she worked out that no amount of socialising and smiling  would get the other attendees to look at her with any semblance of respect once they found out that she sold handmade soaps and herbal tonics for a living.

She couldn’t exactly rely on Graysen to be any sort of support at these things either, not when he was too busy schmoozing with some businessman or lawyer or doctor. He’d corner her every now and then, drape her on his arm in an attempt to show her off but Elain knew how to slip away. She knew to whisper in his ear that she needed the ladies room and she certainly knew how to take her time making her way back to him. What she didn’t know was how her partner couldn’t seem to tell, or perhaps didn’t seem to care, that his family didn’t respect her.

Elain had been wandering around all evening, entertaining herself by picking at the canapés and the drinks that were balanced on trays carried by wait staff dressed in head to toe black. She’d  just plucked another thin stemmed glass of red wine from a passing server when she felt the energy in the room completely shift.

 She heard the way conversations suddenly stopped, felt the way the air turned stagnant. Most of all, she somehow knew, without even having to check, that every single eye in the room was focused on her. 

Elain glanced up from her drink and found the nerve to turn and see what all the fuss was about but that singular second was all it took for her to wish that she’d simply minded her business.

She froze in an instant, completely and utterly paralysed at the sight in front of her. Graysen was balanced on one knee, looking up at her with his bright blue eyes and a small black velvet box cradled in his hand. 

She felt like she was going to be sick. Couldn’t stop her hands from trembling, couldn’t do anything to slow the frantic racing of her heart. Part of her hoped that this was a nightmare. She prayed that she’d wake up in the safety of her bedroom and that none of this would be real. 

It felt like the whole room had tilted, the wine she’d been knocking back suddenly hit her full force as she continued to stare down at him. Based on the immediate silence that had fallen around them and the look of despair that she’d somehow managed to spot on his mother’s face from where she’d suddenly appeared just behind her son, he hadn’t told anyone that he’d intended to do this tonight. 

Elain couldn’t hear anything over the rush of blood between her ears and she barely registered the way his lips shaped the question as he carefully opened the box to display what could only be described as the most ostentatious ring she’d ever seen in her life. It was gigantic and shiny and so out of place compared to all the other jewellery she owned. She tried to listen to what he was saying but Graysen’s words were overtaken by another memory she’d tucked away carefully in the very back of her mind that had chosen this particular moment to resurface.

… 

“You should marry a boy like that.” Her father had told her once, peering at her briefly over the top of the glasses perched low on his nose as he’d fiddled with whatever woodcarving held his attention that particular night. 

Elain had been sitting in the armchair across the fire from him, quietly cursing under her breath as she tried and failed to crochet a teddy bear for Feyre’s newborn baby.

“A boy like what?” She’d asked, setting down her hook and actually looking up at her father. It was so rare for him to comment on any of his daughter’s relationships - romantic or otherwise. 

“Like that Azriel boy that’s always trailing you around,” he'd muttered, once again focused on his project. “Nice kid… respectful. He’d be good for you.”

Elain had been flustered, suddenly warmer than she’d been just a minute before as she attempted to figure out how to respond. She was so taken aback by the conversation that she hadn’t even stopped to point out that her father loved to refer to Azriel as if he barely knew him. As if he hadn’t spent fifteen minutes engaging in quiet conversation with Azriel each and every time he walked in the door for the past seven or eight years. As if her father wasn’t one of the very few people to whom Azriel would offer anything more than a passing ‘hello.’.

“Az and I aren’t… we’re just…” she’d sighed. “He’s just a friend, Dad.” 

“Didn’t say he wasn’t,” her father had shrugged. “Just saying I’d be happy if you married a boy like him.” 

“Well I’m not looking to get married any time soon and certainly not to - wait, why are we even talking about this?” Elain questioned, cutting off her own sentence as she nervously fiddled with a knot in her skein of yarn. She’d been desperate to move on from the topic lest she be cursed to ponder her feelings for Azriel any more than she already had when she was left alone with her thoughts too long. 

“Feyre is married with a new baby, Nesta’s moved out and is getting married soon so you don’t see her as much. It’s a Friday night and you’re at home with your father, El.” His voice had taken on a serious tone. “You don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’re lonely? The only time I see you really smile anymore is when you’re with him.”

“That’s not true. I’m not lonely and I like spending time with you or by myself,” she’d said, unable to meet her dad’s eyes. How could she when she knew fully well that she was lying through her teeth?

“I’m just a little worried about you lately,” Mr. Archeron had continued. “I want you to be happy, I know Azriel makes you happy and I think, for whatever reason, that scares you. ”

Elain had blushed, biting her cheek. She had no idea how her usually clueless father had zeroed in on the two truths that she kept closest to her heart. She couldn’t work out how he’d managed to sense the feeling of relentless loneliness that followed her like a shadow as everyone around her found their people and their place in the world. She certainly hadn’t been able to figure out how he’d known that her feelings for Azriel often toed the line of just friends and how that feeling had amplified once she’d found herself spending more and more time alone with him.

“Azriel doesn’t… I don’t think he sees me like that.” 

There had been a million reasons running through her head. A million excuses for why she and Azriel wouldn’t work. Why they couldn’t be together. Why it would be an absolute disaster if they even tried. She’d never dared to voice them out loud, never even dared to admit that she felt like that towards him. 

Mr. Archeron had laughed - two quick short breaths that sounded a lot like disbelief. Elain had always loved her father’s laugh, but in that moment it had made her angry for a reason she hadn’t been able to nail down.

Elain had stared at him, mouth agape. “What?” 

“Elain, Azriel likes Nesta. He likes Feyre. But that boy loves you.” 

It was Elain’s turn to laugh as her father’s words landed. She’d clutched at her pendant and set aside her long forgotten project. 

“That’s ridiculous. That’s not true,” she’d said, standing up on embarrassingly shaky legs. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight, dad.” 

It hadn’t even been  close to the time she usually went to bed but Elain couldn’t sit and listen to that anymore. The idea of Azriel returning her feelings was preposterous. The idea that her father thought he was in love with her? Absolutely nauseating. 

“Give it a chance, El.” Her father had said softly as she made her way towards the stairs. “If he likes you and you like him, give him a chance. He’s good for you.” 

…

Her father’s words had haunted her all of that night until she forced them all the way into the back corner of her mind where she kept all the other similar feelings and thoughts she preferred to ignore. Suppressing the memory of that night had worked well and it had popped up only one time in the years since. When she’d been laying in bed with Azriel on one of the nights in the week after her father had passed - her tear streaked face in the crook of his neck, his hand rubbing soothing circles on the small of her back. 

His words came flying back into her mind now  as she looked down at the man on one knee in front of her. 

“I…” She forced herself to speak after almost a full minute of silence, her fathers words still blaring in her ears.

 He’s good for you. 

The only time I see you smile anymore is when you’re with him.

That boy loves you. 

How could she say yes to anyone else when there was only one person she’d ever truly wanted?

She needed to say something. Anything. She focused her eyes on Graysen, her face softening in the hopes of lessening the blow she was about to deal him. “Please don’t do this.”

His face fell at her whispered words, his lips pressing together into a straight line as he slowly stood up and squared his shoulders. She didn’t miss the flash of anger that passed over his face as he pocketed the ring, there and gone in a second before his usual cool demeanour settled into place. 

Graysen gave her a smile that didn’t come close to reaching his eyes as he placed a hand on the small of her back and Elain did her best not to flinch away from his touch. He led her out of the room, muttering an excuse to the rest of the guests - some small joke at her expense that he trusted would make light of the situation.  She tried to ignore the incessant buzz of hushed whispers as they passed by his friends and family. His mother’s relieved face was the last thing she saw before she stepped outside and took her first proper breath in what felt like minutes, relishing in the soothing feeling of the chill night air on her overheated skin. 

He didn’t say anything to her. Not as they walked towards his car, not as he drove her back home. She couldn’t bring herself to say anything either, too shocked from what he’d just done to form a coherent thought. It wasn’t until they were back in her apartment that he finally broke the unbearable silence between them.

“What the hell was that?” He didn’t bother to mask his anger anymore. It resurfaced clear as day, written in every harsh line of his face. He stood a foot away from her, one hand braced on the bannister of her stairs to block her from getting around him. 

“We’ve never even talked about this.” She shook her head, shakily running a hand through her hair. “We’ve never once discussed getting married.” 

She knew that he hardly listened. She was fully aware that in the year they’d been together, he’d rarely taken the time to ask her questions. Had never bothered to truly get to know her. She’d ignored it at the beginning, had kept him around because he’d been the distraction that she needed at the time and she’d been happy to go along with it as weeks turned to months. She was happy to play the part of the partner he so clearly desired.

He’d been nice enough that she’d thought that one day it would click. That maybe with enough time, she could trick herself into thinking that she was capable of loving someone other than the kind-eyed boy whom she’d silently pined over for the last decade. The only person she’d ever felt comfortable enough around to not have to pretend to be anyone other than herself. It wasn’t until she’d turned to see Graysen on one knee that she knew that she couldn’t do it, couldn’t pretend to love a man that didn’t even really know her. 

“I wasn’t aware that this was something we had to discuss, Elain.” Graysen replied. “You’ve just fucking embarrassed me in front of my family and friends.” 

Elain scoffed, just half of a clipped laugh filled to the brim with disbelief. “That’s what bothers you about this situation? That’s what you’re annoyed about? You aren’t bothered that I said no but you’re bothered that I said no in front of all those people?”

“Of course I’m bothered that you said no but you could’ve waited to say no instead of making a scene.” 

“I didn’t make a scene, Graysen!” She seethed. “You made a scene by asking me that question in a public setting when we’d never discussed this before! You’ve never asked what kind of ring I wanted, we’ve never talked about what kind of a proposal I might like, we’ve never even discussed if either of us wanted to get married at all.” 

“I thought we were on the same page. I’d assumed you’d say yes!” He dragged a hand through his hair. 

“You assume a lot about me and that’s the entire problem,” she shook her head solemnly. “I know I’m not an open book, I know I keep a lot to myself but you’ve never even tried. You’ve never asked me about myself or my interests or you tune out when I do talk about the shop or my family or things that I like. All you care about is dressing me up however you like and parading me around. You like that I don’t argue back, that I go along with whatever you suggest and that’s okay because I’ve played a part in that as well but you don’t know me, Graysen.” 

“If you felt like that then why are you here? Why have you stayed?” Graysen asked. 

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “It’s been nice and I do care about you but it hasn’t even been a full year, Gray. I just didn’t think we were close to even considering getting married.”

“So it’s not because you’re waiting for him?” 

Elain stopped short, startled by his remark. Graysen had never once brought up anything that had happened back home since they’d gotten back from their trip for Nyx’s birthday at the start of the year, much to her surprise. And Elain had fought tooth and nail, used every little bit of willpower she had to stop her mind from constantly fixating on what Azriel had told her on Nesta’s porch that night. On what he’d gently advised her to do. 

I  can handle you being with someone else, I’ve done it for a decade… but please… please don’t stay with someone that doesn’t make you happy just to prove a point to yourself or to me or to anyone else.

She’d heard him that night and then proceeded to do exactly what he’d told her not to. She’d spent months - years in all actuality -  running from her problems and it had finally caught up to her. She’d hit a brick wall, hard and fast, and now she was completely stuck, caught in a web made of all her worst decisions. 

“Elain?” Graysen’s voice broke through her spiralling thoughts. “It’s because of him, isn’t it? 

“No,” Elain shook her head. She couldn’t work out why even now she was fighting the truth. 

“You’re in love with him aren’t you?” 

“No,” she shook her head, hating the way tears immediately started to fall from her eyes, as if her body was rejecting the lie. “He’s just my best friend.”

“Take off the necklace, then.” Graysen jutted his chin towards her chest, his eyebrow raised and his lips set in a hard line. “If he isn’t the reason that you can’t say yes to me, if you don’t love him… take off the necklace.”

Elain stepped away from him, swallowing her nerves. She felt dizzy all of a sudden. Everything felt wrong, the air felt thick and heavy and a horrible ball of something ominous settled in the pit of her stomach. “I can’t take it off, Gray. I won’t.” 

She really couldn’t. She’d only ever taken it off for an x-ray or a massage. She knew it was ridiculous, that it was just a physical object and it wouldn’t be the end of the world if she gave in and removed it, but unclasping her necklace would feel like the end of something and she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. 

“Take it off, Elain.” Graysen demanded again, stepping towards her. “You won’t accept a ring from me but you’ll wear some piece of shit necklace that your best friend made for you years ago?”

“It’s a necklace with sentimental value, Graysen.  I’ve worn it every single day for years and I’m not going to change that now.” Elain sighed. “What does the necklace have to do with this, anyway?”

“Everything. It has everything to do with this,” he moved closer. “Hate seeing that thing around your fucking neck every goddamn day.”

“I’m not going to take it off.”

“So we’re done then?” His voice went whisper soft and she froze, completely backed up against a wall with nowhere to go. She knew that when he went quiet, trouble was soon to follow. 

“I didn’t say that,” Elain pinched the bridge of her nose. 

“You don’t want to get married, though.” 

“No, I don’t.” 

“Not now or not ever?”

She stayed silent even though the answer was loud and clear in her head.

“Fucking hell, Elain.” Graysen cursed under his breath and moved in even closer. Before she knew what was happening, he’d raised his hand and reached forward, firmly grasping her beloved pendant in his fingers. With one swift movement, Graysen tugged and the chain around Elain’s neck pinched her skin as it snapped. 

She was shocked. Elain stared at him with wide eyes and it wasn’t fear that coursed through her veins, but anger. She acted on instinct, shoving him backwards with two firm hands against his chest. 

“Don’t you ever fucking touch me like that again,” she seethed, annoyed at the way her voice and hands  shook a little. She may not have felt afraid in the moment, but it was clear that her body was having a different physical response. “Get out.”

“Elain-” Graysen tried to talk to her. Reason with her. 

She was used to this - the softening of his eyes, his voice. The slight drop of his shoulders. He’d let his emotions get the best of him and now he was doing recon. 

“Please, baby.” He tried again, taking one small half-step towards her. 

“Get. Out.” Elain stood her ground. “Get the fuck out my apartment.” 

It was clear that Graysen was surprised by this. He hadn’t expected her to argue back, not when she usually just gave in to his half hearted attempts at apologies. But she’d had enough and she’d finally stood her ground even if she’d let it go entirely too far. His defences went up in return, his shoulders squared, his jaw turned rigid, and his eyes narrowed.

“We’re done,” her voice cracked as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“So that’s it then?” Graysen raised an eyebrow. “What’s your plan, Elain? You have nothing. You have no one here. All you had was me... My friends. My money. ”

“Please, can you just go?” Elain practically begged, her heart was racing and all she wanted was a cold glass of water and to lay down. 

“Do you really think he’s going to want you, Elain?” Graysen gave her a sardonic grin. “You’re nothing but a pretty face. You’ll go running back home and straight into his arms but what do you think is going to happen? He won’t want you.”

Tears pricked at Elain’s eyes and she pleaded with herself to not let them fall. She couldn’t let him win. Couldn’t let him know that everything he was saying were thoughts that she’d had about herself time and time again. 

“He may keep you around for a bit but the novelty will wear off,” he shrugged. “I know how men work, Elain. You’ve strung him along for years… he doesn’t like you. He just likes the chase. He’ll fuck you a few times and then he’ll realise that you have little else to offer. You’re nothing, Elain. He may think the world of you now but you are nothing. No one will want a girl like you.”

Elain was shaking. She didn’t know whether it was from anger or nerves or perhaps embarrassment that she hadn’t been able to hold back her tears and now she could taste the salt that dampened her cheeks. 

“No one wants a girl like me?” Elain managed to scoff. “Do you hear yourself? You proposed to me not even an hour ago.”

Graysen opened his mouth to speak but Elain had finally had enough. She couldn’t stand to listen to him spit more vitriolic words into her face. Couldn’t stand the reminders of everything she’d already convinced herself to be true. She walked past him, straight to the door of her apartment. 

She twisted the knob, pulling the door open before turning back to face him. “Leave.” 

“If I step out of that door, I’m not coming back,” Graysen threatened. “We’ll be done.” 

“Leave,” she repeated. 

Graysen’s jaw clenched and he let out a sharp exhale of air as he made his way towards the open door. He didn’t say anything as he looked at her, only pausing to give her a disgusted once-over before he flung her necklace on the ground. She watched as it landed right by the sharp heel of her shoe. 

Elain barely heard him mutter whatever last insult he flung her way before he walked away. She closed her door and locked it but her eyes never left that shimmering piece of gold shining bright on her dark floor. She sank to her knees, tears falling so hard and fast from her eyes that the neckline of her dress was wet. She didn’t realise how quick and shallow her breaths had become until she was on the floor, her broken necklace safe in her hands. 

She pulled her legs to her chest and lowered her head in between her knees, her fingers still tightly clutching the pendant. This was the lowest moment of her life and she couldn’t believe she’d let it get to this point.  She was disappointed with herself. With her decisions. She’d wasted years of her life. She’d wasted her time and the time of at least two other people. She’d isolated herself from everyone that genuinely cared about her. She’d missed out on major family milestones. Had pushed away any chance of happiness that had been presented to her. 

Elain had run and run and run and where had it gotten her? 

She was thirty years old and lived in a city that would never feel like home. She had  countless failed relationships and one disastrous marriage proposal under her belt. She was having a panic attack in her tiny apartment and there was nothing she could do about it. She grasped for her phone - desperate to have someone talk her through this terrible feeling, to remind her how to breathe. 

Amidst her racing thoughts and racing heart, she ran through her options - she couldn’t bother Nesta because she didn’t want to interrupt her time with Cassian. Feyre had enough on her plate with Nyx. She wasn’t close enough with any of her old friends to put them on the spot like this. She wanted her father, wanted a hug and the gruff it’ll be fine that would never come.

There was only one other option left but there was no way in hell she was going to go through with that when Graysen’s words were still blaring through her mind. 

Elain squeezed her eyes shut and tipped her head back against the door. She gripped her necklace in her fist and raised her fist to her chest, gently tapping in a rhythm that mimicked a normal heartbeat. She didn’t know how long she sat there before her heart slowed, matching the slow knocking of her fist against her chest. 

Her panic had subsided but the sadness and frustration lingered and the profound loneliness that she’d been trying to ignore - the loneliness that her father had once alluded to - finally bubbled up and threatened to drown her once and for all. 

[imagine-knowing-a-name]

you are expendable

Summary: adjusting to a life away from the red room is tough, and letting go of the mentality they drilled into you is even tougher. As much as Yelena tries to protect you, you'll always believe that you are expendable, and she is not.

Word Count: 3783 Pairing: Yelena Belova & Reader Warnings: self-sacrificial R, near-death injuries, poor self worth/mental health issues Requests (combined): "Yelena x best!friend reader who struggles with self worth, gets hurt protecting Yelena?" "Hi! Can you do a story where Yelena has taken reader in as a sibling figure, and reader is constantly trying to “payback” yelena like through small things and more bigger things like being reckless on mission so yelena doesn’t get hurt; and Yelena gets really worried one time and finds out why R is doing it, and assures reader that they don’t need to do that and more fluff at end if ok?"

A/N: italics are flashbacks, Russian is google translated. Honestly this was a fun one to write so I hope you enjoy!

»»————-　★　————-««

2016

Yelena holds the door open, allowing you to shuffle in behind her, before she motions towards the sofa. You immediately move to follow the unspoken command, perching yourself at the very edge and pressing your body into the armrest as if you could become part of it. The blonde, meanwhile, takes a central seat on the opposite chair. She rests her elbows on her knees and leans forward, with her chin resting on intertwined fingers. Her brows are minutely knitted and her gaze pounces on any movement you make – you realise she’s analysing you.

Well, two can play at that game.

In an instant, you come away from the armrest and relax your back, spreading yourself into a wider stance… everything you can do to level your authority, even in the older Widow’s own apartment.

“Y/N, don’t do that,” she scoffs before changing her position again; she’s leaning back now with her arms crossed over her chest, though her attention to you remains as analytical as ever.

“I’m just sitting.”

“Widow’s don’t just sit.”

“Then what do you want me to not do?”

“Don’t be a Widow.”

“I am a Widow.”

“I know. Don’t be.”

You huff, now unintentionally copying her pose once again when you cross your arms and sulkily lean back into the cushions. “You are very confusing, Yelena, how should I not be what I was raised to be? What you trained me to be.”

Yelena winces a little at the reminder. Ten years older than you, the woman now sitting across from you had been your assigned trainer for eleven years in the Red Room, from your arrival at age six and right up until last month, when she’d broken free of the chemical control and escaped into the real world. Everything you knew about espionage and violence, everything you hated to be, came from her teachings, and you’d been just about ready to pass it on to your own mentees when she came and freed you from the Red Room’s control.

What they forced her to do to you would always be a sore spot for Yelena, but, regardless, she schools her expression back to neutral, then smiles. You eye her suspiciously.

“Why are you smiling?”

“You ask how not to be a Widow? You are already doing it; do you think Dreykov would approve of that stance?”

Yelena laughs as you quickly scramble back to the perfect pose she’d once drilled into you. “Dreykov is not going to punish you, he is dead. At least, I think he is dead,” she frowns, “though he has escaped being blown up once before, so you can never really know. Either way, he must be very badly injured and probably also dead, so you can relax.”

When you don’t shift, Yelena stands up and takes a seat beside you. “You’re free, Y/N. They can’t control us anymore. Our lives are our own and, from now on, they always will be.”

She finally closes the gap between you two when she sees tears forming in your eyes, pulling you close but leaving a loose arm on your shoulder – giving you the opportunity to escape her grasp should you want. You don’t. Instead, you press yourself further into her side and let the tears flow.

“Stay here with me?” 

With the careful way she suggests it, you can tell it’s something she’s been dwelling on for a while, rather than an impulsive response to your show of emotions. “We’re both new to the world, we can work it out together, if you’d like that? I’ll keep you safe, I promise. You can just be 17.”

You don’t respond instantly, already growing quite comfortable with being tucked in Yelena’s arms, but when you do nod, Yelena notices; she smiles and pulls you a little closer.

»»————-　★　————-««

2005

“Yelena?”

“Да” (Yes)

“Это ваше. Поддерживайте его в живых.” (This one is yours. Keep it alive.)

You’re shoved harshly in the direction of the young blonde. The guard who pushed you laughs as you stumble, but Yelena catches you and keeps you on your feet. You try to pull yourself closer to her side, latching on to the first show of kindness you’ve had in weeks, but the teen prises you off of her and positions you behind her back – she doesn’t look at you, only staring down the guards until they leave, before she grabs your arm and leads you into a small adjoining room. She slams the door and you startle, your vision clouding with tears as you realise things aren’t going to go back to normal, that this woman won’t be your saviour.

“Вы говорите по-русски?” (Do you speak Russian?) she asks; it’s not harsh, but it’s not as soft as your mother’s tone either. The tears begin to flow.

“English?” she tries again, this time you nod.

“I spoke only English at your age,” the girl says, “you must learn Russian though; I will help, but the trainers will perfect it.”

You don’t reply and eventually the older girl sighs; she takes a step forward, but still lingers awkwardly across the room from you, not wanting to get too close. “I am Yelena. What is your name?”

“Y/N.”

“I’m going to be your mentor, Y/N; do you want to learn new things?”

You’re not sure what to make of Yelena, but, at 6, there’s a lot of things you want to know, so you nod shyly, then ask your first question, “what is going to happen to me?”

Yelena notices the shake in your voice, and she’s been an assassin long enough to infer what you must have seen, what instances brought you to her. She comes a step closer again and purposefully softens her voice, “you’re going to stay here; you and I, we are going to be a team from now, okay? We’ll do some training and that will keep you safe. I’m going to try to keep you safe.”

“Do you pinky promise?”

The older girl hesitates, staring down at your extended finger as if it were a gun pointed in her direction – but at least she’d know how to handle that. The longer your hand hovers, extended, the more Yelena worries, knowing this isn’t a promise she can make in full confidence, but she can’t disappoint you either.

She wraps her own pinky around yours and shakes on it, “I promise,” she says at last, “I’m going to keep you safe. I just need you to listen to everything I say.”

»»————-　★　————-««

The adjustment period is hard – certainly harder than either you or Yelena expected. Contrary to your original expectations, Yelena doesn’t give up the assassin lifestyle, and she doesn’t force you to either; it’s all the two of you have known, and you’re too ingrained in it to manage a completely clean break. 

For one, neither of you have birth certificates or any form of ID at all, and you find out very quickly how necessary those are. Yelena puts her contacts to good use and obtains birth certificates and American passports for the both of you; the legalities are dubious, but she’s now officially your older sister, which gives her guardianship status over you – because apparently a 17 year old needs that in the real world, as if you don’t have several lifetimes of maturity and experience under your belt already.

You’re grateful for all the steps Yelena has taken to look after you: from signing you up to a boxing club for the familiarity of training, to telling Valentina that the two of you could only be employed as a pair, ensuring she’d be there to protect you even on missions. You want to repay her for everything she’s done for you, but you’re still learning the limits of the real world – your resources were practically limitless in the Red Room if it completed the mission, but that is certainly not the case anymore. So, instead, you’re forced to turn to the internet for adequate methods of thanking your lifelong friend.

You start small: flowers, household chores, cooking… anything you can find, but most end up in chaos. Flowers gave you hay fever, it turns out; your meals have to be scraped out of the pans and taste worse that the Red Room canteen; and, much to your annoyance, Yelena refuses to let you do all the chores, immediately stopping you and taking over for ‘her turn’ if you'd done it the night before, which only gave you more to thank her for.

Eventually, you conclude that if you want to thank Yelena properly then you should stick to what you know: murder, maiming, and incredible violence… though she tries to discourage that now, so you shift to simply risking yourself, doing everything you can on missions to keep Yelena safe.

It works the first few times, you get a few bruises and scrapes, but that's nothing unexpected in your line of work and, more importantly, Yelena comes out unscathed. She seems ignorant to the actions you're taking, which is how you aim to keep it; you know she wouldn't approve of you putting yourself at risk just to keep her safe, but that's how the Red Room taught you to perform and, after everything she's done for you, it's what you're willing to do to thank her.

»»————-　★　————-««

2013

“You ready, Y/N?” Yelena smiles. The two of you are in matching bodysuits, sitting in the back of a jet destined for Manchester, England. You nod and double check the various weaponry attached to you.

Yelena reaches behind her, pulling out a map which you’ve memorised by now, and lays it on the table between you. “There’s two floors to this facility,” she recaps, “they’re developing weapons and we’ve been assigned to retrieve blueprints for all of them. Where do we find them?”

You point quickly to the corridor of offices. “Locked filing cabinet in office 2, if intelligence is to be trusted.”

“And which route will we take?”

“From the bus stop, into the woods within the perimeter. The back entrance will have only one guard between 0130 and 0200, giving us a window to enter. This corridor here,” you point, “has a guard, so we must pass while their back is turned. Stairs are unguarded. Two rights and we’ll be at the offices. There’s a ladder to the roof and an escape route from there, which is how we’ll get out.”

“Good. You have learnt it well. The Red Room demands perfection, but you are going to make them proud.”

Hours later, you aren’t so sure. You sit by her hospital bed, knee bouncing with worry as the medics operate on her; the steady beeping of her vitals acts as your only comfort, but you know first-hand that it could switch at any second. 

Behind you, a door opens and closes, causing a noticeable shift in the atmosphere of the room. The medics stand taller, the guards lower their gaze, and you immediately stop your movements, knowing exactly who has walked in. You stand to attention and turn to face the tall, boney woman in front of you, though you bow your head in respect just as the guards did.

“A word, Y/N, outside,” Madame B instructs. She doesn’t wait for a response – she knows you wouldn’t dare give her one – she simply turns on her heel and has you follow her back out of the door like a puppy on a leash.

“Explain exactly what happened. And I don’t want excuses.”

“We were fighting the guards for some time, there were far more than Yelena and I had expected–”

“I said no excuses.”

“Sorry Madame. We left one of them for too long and he was able to take a shot while my back was turned – it would have hit my head, but Yelena noticed and stepped in between, receiving the bullet just to the left of her heart, puncturing her lung. I brought her to medics quickly-”

“I don’t need to hear the rest,” the woman cuts in. “Yelena is one of our best Widows, whereas you… you are expendable, Y/N, and I expect you to know it. Until you train yourself to be better than Yelena, then it is your responsibility to put your body on the line to keep her safe, no matter the cost to you. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Madame.”

“You will go to the training room immediately. If you think your life is worth more than Yelena’s, then we will put that to the test – incapacitate the five Widows in there without taking a hit, and you will be excused from punishment this time.”

The task is impossible, you know that, you may defeat the others, but not without one of them landing a blow, and once they do that, you will be beaten to within an inch of your life for failing the task. Regardless, you nod towards Madame B and march to the training room with your head held high; you deserve the punishment, you know that too. You are expendable, Yelena is not. 

All five girls jump at you. This is what you deserve.

»»————-　★　————-««

2017

You were always aware that something would eventually go wrong, each mission where you threw yourself recklessly into danger was only testing your luck. You accepted the risk, but when it actually happens, well… you hadn't prepared for the consequences.

After four months of obtaining only minor injuries, you and Yelena are on another mission in Upstate New York, dressed to the nines at some CEO’s mansion. You don't care to remember his name since, if all goes to plan, he'll be dead at the end of the night anyway.

The party is already buzzing when the two of you walk in and, after a quick scout of the area together, the two of you separate and mingle with the guests, establishing your presence in the main hall until there's an opportunity to corner the host away from spectators.

It's going well, you think, until angry yells sound out from the other side of the room, loud enough to drown out the music. Guests look up curiously, just as you do, until you see Yelena thrown onto the stage. A handful of bodyguards emerge from the crowd to surround her, all readying their weapons in her direction.

You don't think, you just barrel through the gawking crowds to tackle your mentor out of the firing line. Yelena is back on her feet in an instant and you try to do the same, but a sharp pain keeps you down. The crowds are screaming now, and hopefully fleeing as you're overwhelmed by a chorus of gunshots. 

You counted 7 guards before. They are no problem for Yelena to take down alone, but you don't allow for that. Ignoring the excruciating pain as you move and pretending you don't notice that your shirt is soaked in blood, you roll yourself onto your back, reaching for your holster and taking out the last three guards in rapid succession. Their attention was focused on Yelena, making it easy for you to do.

In a now empty hall, Yelena finally releases the breath she's been holding and looks around to congratulate you, until she sees you right where she left you, lying flat on the stage.

“Y/N!” 

Her face interrupts your view of the ceiling and you yelp when you feel her hand clamp over your ribs. “I know, I know,” she whispers, face filled with worry as her dialtone begins.

“Natasha?” she says when the person answers at last, “I need you, please, we need medics at my location. I don’t know, the best the Avengers have got. You have good ones, right?”

The world seems to fade at the edges and you relax into your tired state. But then Yelena is snapping her fingers in front of you and her tear-stained face comes back into focus.

“Stay awake for me please, Y/N.”

“Natasha, hurry,” she sobs once again.

You can't help it; everything fades to black.

»»————-　★　————-««

The view when you next wake up is a complete shift to the dark but extravagant mansion you'd fallen asleep in. Everything is blinding white and purely functional; you're not unfamiliar with the set-up, but the location is new, you think. After visiting so many, the hospitals begin to blend together.

“Y/N,” someone beside you gasps, and you mentally scold yourself for not checking you were alone before you opened your eyes. Madame B will punish you for that.

No, Madame B is gone. It is only Yelena now, and she doesn't punish you anymore.

You shrink away all the same when Yelena comes into view, knowing you are the cause of her red-rimmed eyes and the dark bags underneath.

“You almost died, Y/N!” she shouts, and tears prick at your own eyes. You didn't want to disappoint her, just protect her. “I've noticed it for months but I didn't bring it up because I thought you knew better than to risk yourself like this! Missions are not the place to be reckless, what were you-”

She stalls suddenly. Your eyelids, which were previously squeezed shut, open slowly, cautiously and carefully checking for Yelena's reaction. Her face softens when you catch her eye and suddenly she's rushing forward and trapping you in a hug.

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't yell, I'm sorry. I just want to protect you, always, and seeing you like this… it's…”

She sighs, and you interrupt.

“No, I'm sorry, Yelena. This wasn't meant to stress you out or have you worrying about me. I wanted to keep you safe, you know, like you always used to do for me. And after you freed me from the serum and then everything you did to look after me afterwards, I had to find a way to thank you. And I tried all the things Google said like cooking and gifts and everything! but they didn't work, so I thought that maybe keeping you safe would be enough to express my gratitude and make us equal, even if I got hurt in the process.”

“Oh, Y/N,” the older Widow sighs again, a teary smile overtaking her face. “I know it's hard, but we're not in the Red Room anymore; not every interaction is transactional, and not every mission has to have an expendable agent. In fact, none of our missions will have an expendable agent – it's you and me as equals, alright? Both of us are surviving them and I won't have any other outcomes.”

You nod and she continues.

“You're my best friend, Y/N, and my little sister in every way but blood; I'd have done – and I still would – anything to protect you in the Red Room, but that's not how it has to work anymore. And as for looking after you goes, it's my pleasure to do it; it's not something you need to pay me back for because just getting to spend time with you and have you around is all I could ask for. Just get through this, Y/N, get out of this ward and come home, and that will be the only thing you ever need to do for me.”

»»————-　★　————-««

You're still weak, so Yelena has her arms around you and your body is pressed into her side, but you're walking, forward and forward until you cross the threshold. 

You're home.

A few weeks longer and you're back on your feet without assistance, standing next to Yelena in the kitchen as she teaches you to cook – starting easy with some basic pancakes after you said you had a craving for them in the hospital.

“Keep an eye on the pan,” Yelena instructs as her phone starts to ring in the other room, “flip it in 30 seconds if I'm still gone.”

She walks out. You set down your knife and the strawberries you had skillfully been cutting to stare directly at the pan, mentally counting down exactly from 30.

“I don't want a mission, Valentina,” you hear Yelena say from the living room. You don't let it distract you.

“Y/N is grounded from missions until they're back at full health, and I'm not going without them. I told you before, we work as a pair. That's non negotiable.”

You're flipping the pancake when Yelena walks back in, using the spatula instead of risking a pan flip. The older woman scoffs and gently nudges you out of the way so that she can take the pan back.

“Spatulas are for wimps,” she claims confidently, “let me show you some real skill.”

Both of you take a step back: you towards the door, and her towards the centre of the room, before she flicks the pan with her wrist. The pancake goes flying high into the sky, hits the ceiling, then falls unceremoniously back down to splat on the floor.

You both stare at it in silence.

“This is why I used a spatula,” you say at last.

“Maybe we should get a dog.”

“Where did that come from?”

“Well then it could eat the floor pancake.”

“Or we could just pick it up.”

“Yes, go on then,” she grins, moving forward to put the pan back on the heat and pouring more batter into it.

“Oh I would but, you know, I'm injured,” you say with false disappointment, “from when I saved your life, remember? So I probably shouldn't bend to pick it up.”

“You are a nuisance, child,” Yelena grumbles under her breath when she goes to pick the pancake up. You just grin… until the floor pancake is thrown directly at your face. You yelp and quickly dodge it; it smacks against the fridge this time so you catch it and finally put it with the food waste.

Eventually, a stack of successfully flipped pancakes fill the plate, enough for you and Yelena to enjoy your fill. Throughout the meal, you forget all about your squabble in the kitchen, and you believe Yelena had too, so when she smiles and turns to you, saying “you wanted to pay me back for the hospitality, right?” you nod earnestly.

“Then I think you can do the dishes for us both!” she continues, handing her empty plate to you before relaxing further into the couch. With a flick of her wrist, but a beaming smile on her face, she shoos you away.

“Because a gunshot and bleeding out for you isn’t enough,” you huff with a roll of your eyes, playfully kicking Yelena’s leg as you stand. “Some people are never satisfied.”

»»————-　★　————-««

General Taglist: @canvascoloredin @fxckmiup @wizardofstories

[deconstructthesoup]

Fantasy High Good Place AU

I am very happy that y'all voted for this, because it's been living in my brain rent-free for the past couple weeks.

So, right off the bat---this is partially self-indulgence, and partially a little exploration of what the Bad Kids would be like as adults if they hadn't found each other... and, well, if they were living in a more mundane world. And, of course, I had to combine and add a couple roles, just to make everyone fit.

Fig: She's in the Eleanor role as the main POV character, and as the first person who decides to learn how to be better. In life, she was a twenty-seven-year-old musician living in Phoenix, Arizona who was still trying to find her big break, and got by via drug-dealing after a string of shitty service jobs. Fig hasn't spoken to her mom in years, even after both Gilear and Gordie (aka Gorthalax) have both died, and she put up a front of selfishness and constant lies due to not trusting anyone and being afraid of being vulnerable. But when she dies and supposedly gets mistaken for a pro-bono death-row lawyer, she realizes that she's gotta ask for help...

Ayda: She's in the Chidi role---a high-strung ethics professor who devoted her life to figuring out the deep secrets of the universe, often at the cost of her own mental health. She's not as indecisive as Chidi, but she's very much of the mindset that ethical standards should always be upholded, and she initially sees nothing wrong with the points system. As Ayda becomes closer to Fig, she starts to pick up on how the system doesn't count for extenuating circumstances, and how much of an actual minefield ethics is... and she starts to reflect on her own life, where she never knew how to connect with others and stayed in her comfort zone of academia. Throughout bonding with the others, she slowly learns how to let her walls down and challenge the system.

Fabian: He's in a Tahani role, as the upper-class socialite who pretty much bought his way into "heaven" and definitely has a bunch of narcissistic tendencies. Unlike Tahani, however, he's very much aware of his own failings, and he constantly stresses about how fragile his standing and happiness is---though, he's become incredibly good at hiding it. Fabian's pretty much been living in the shadow of his late father's legacy for his whole life, and he spent most of that life trying to be just as good, if not better, than him... so, when he supposedly gets into the "Good Place," it's essentially proof that he did everything right. Of course, that still doesn't keep him from feeling like there's something amiss, especially since there's some issues with his assigned soulmate...

Riz: In life, Riz was a P.I. who mostly did petty work for rich people and got used to doing things that were vaguely shady in order to get by. By the time he died, he had a very low opinion of people in general, and had a "dog eat dog" mindset... which was immediately blown out of the water the second he realized that he'd been mistaken for a brilliant secret agent, and he was going to spend his afterlife with a self-centered rich boy as romantic soulmates. Riz being Riz, he immediately started to figure a way out of this situation, eventually finding out Fig---and one other person---and agreeing to take Ayda's ethics lessons if it meant he could earn his spot in the Good Place... though, of course, he's still subconsciously picking up on the little hints that something is off.

Kristen: She's in the "Jason" role... sorta. When she was alive, she was a former member of a conservative Christian cult who left when she was nineteen, spent the next five years trying to find another truth to pursue, and spent the last three years of her life partying her problems away and living high on nihilism. So it was quite a shock for her when, after dying, she supposedly got sent to the Good Place... and only because they thought that she's a humanitarian pastor, and straight to boot. Kristen initially doesn't want to waste time with ethics lessons, but as more and more things start to go wrong, she reluctantly agrees---and ends up reconnecting with that curious, searching part of herself that she thought she'd left behind, over and over again.

Gorgug: When he was alive, he was a physicist who made a lot of impressive discoveries---many of which had the potential to really help people---but due to the fact that he had a lot of issues with standing up for himself and believed himself to not be as smart as he actually was, he tended to let himself get taken advantage of and have other people take credit for his work. Getting into the Good Place kind of confirmed Gorgug's belief that keeping your head down and being humble would pay off eventually... until his assigned soulmate immediately told him that she was a) gay, and b) here by mistake. The two of them do become pretty good friends, and Gorgug even sits in on some of Ayda's ethics lessons, learning a bit about himself as he does.

Adaine: She's Janet---or, rather, an "Oracle," one of many informational assistants made by the Good Place (the Bad Place has Informants, while Accountants have Librarians). Every Oracle is given a name upon being activated in order to distinguish her from others, and, well, hers is Adaine. She starts off as your typical cheery, happy-to-help living Siri, but as time goes on and she gets rebooted over and over again, she starts to form genuine connections with the humans, and with connections come actual feelings... including the rise of mild anxiety. Adaine's grateful for that, though, as she sees becoming more human as an incredible experience.

Aelwyn: Honestly... there was no other character who was bitchy, multifaceted, and weirdly loving enough to be Micheal. At first, underneath her quirky and "cool older sister" angel persona, she's every bit the callous, vindictive, and cruel demon who only lives to torment human souls and prove her worth to her boss. But reboot after reboot, she fails, the humans become closer and figure her out... and she's eventually forced to cave. Aelwyn never fully loses her bitchiness and slightly amoral nature, but she does develop a heart and self-awareness as she becomes friends with the humans---and as she forms a sisterly connection with Adaine. Even a demon can learn to grow.

I have more thoughts, but I've spent a lot of time figuring out how to make this coherent, so... yeah!

[novelcain]

Y'all got me thinking so hard abt mafia wukong I'm dropping. Some things I've thought of in the last like five minutes for your viewing pleasure LOL feel free to ignore me or delete this I am running off like two hours of sleep

-Wukong probably holds an annual sort of, dinner for those serving directly under him. It's probably a night for information to be passed around, big terf reports to be given, that kind of thing. Only the ones that answer directly to him are invited, the ones directly under him in the hierarchy, so probably like, the DBK family if they're involved, Macaque, his inner circle, so to speak. I imagine it's held in a restaurant on their terf, or that they have control over, so it's only them being served that night.

- At these dinners everyone has a set seat. The seat to Wukong's left is always for MK and the seat to his right is always for Reader. Bad things happen if you mess with those seats!

- And gods help you when Wukong has a little too much wine to drink! He's handsy when he's stone cold sober, he's even worse when he's tipsy and/or drunk. I imagine him placing Reader in his lap at some point in the night, running his hands over every bit of them he can, leaning his cheek against their shoulder. Everyone has kind of learned to keep their mouths shut, but eventually someone is gonna have something they need to say and he's not even going to look away from Reader, carrying a conversation with his underling all while keeping his attention on Reader

- Oohhh when dinner is over and work is out of the way, it's relaxing time, everyone gets to mingle and enjoy music and drinks and to just lounge around in this space that's been procured for the meeting. Wukong makes Reader dance with him! The music is something soft and slow, sensual, and he takes them by the hand and sways to the music.

- Eventually the night comes to a close and everyone disperses. Wukong gets a little TOO handsy w Reader on the way home. Teehee.

Respectfully, anon. I refuse to ignore this as it is some delicious brain food you have given me~ 😌

First, I can't get out of my head how utterly embarrassed MK would be seeing his adoptive dad getting handsy with who he's beginning to see as his mother figure. All the while, his friends Mei and Red Son, the heirs to the Dragon of the West Triad and the Demon Bull Family Triad respectively, are teasing his and making fun of him for it. Tho Red Son shuts up about it later when his mom and dad start getting a little too drunk to keep their hands to themselves too.

I also think that with specific seating arrangements he has a special table that he likes more than all the others. I like to imagine that the business that they go to is Pigsy's Place. A restaurant that Wukong has been going to for at least a century and has been laundering money through since he helped Pigsy go from a noodle shop that he stumbled into one night at 3am while he was drunk to a full blown 5 star comfort food restaurant that's constantly booked.

Now to what you're all here for~

You've know this monkey for a while now and you know that once he starts to drink it's inevitable that he goes from his usual casual passing touches to practically dry humping you in front of everyone

Ffs the man has his hand up your dress!

You get so flustered and try to feed him food and water to help him sober up but he just keeps getting his hands on more alcohol and somehow even gets you to drink a bit as well

You two definitely end up getting frisky in the limo ride back

Mk saw that coming after jumping out the window the last time because his dad got so drunk that he forgot his son was still in the damn car and went home in Macaque's car, which Mk is driving because Macaque is past out in the passenger's seat after having a drinking contest with DBK. The winner of which was unclear.

[earlgreytea68]

i know it's been said a million times already but i simply CANNOT get over pete deciding that patrick is going to have his solo piano time for this tour and how pete has ALWAYS thought patrick is the greatest, most talented musician ever and has spent their entire careers shouting that fact from the rooftops..................... like obviously he's RIGHT but can you imagine being the object that kind of unwavering faith and belief and devotion..................... like it's just THE peterick dynamic.................. pete will always be in awe of patrick, will always be happy to be along for the ride, will always want to make patrick shine and patrick will be brave and indulgent for pete and together they will give each other purpose and MUSIC and slkdfjslkdfjsldfjsdf

I was actually just thinking about this because Patrick mentioned again last night how he told his mom twenty years ago he was going to take a semester off to see how the band stuff worked out, a story he tells a lot because ha ha we know how it worked out, how sweet, etc. But also it made me think about how he said his dad was at the Colorado show, his dad who is also a musician but never played to the tens of thousands of people turning out to cheer at his son every night. And it just made me think like,

You've got this kid, and he's got big dreams, and you want to encourage him but you're also probably kind of like "yeah okay suddenly you're a singer in a rock band, now let's talk about your college applications." But you didn't count on your kid meeting Pete Wentz and the guy dedicating basically his entire life to making sure the entire universe recognizes that your kid is a musical genius. Like one day Patrick brought this stray MUCH older scene kid home with him and was like "I'm going to be in this guy's band" and there must have been this moment of ... But then that guy turned out to be PETE, like, idk, Pete Wentz, everyone.

Patrick might never really truly believe what Pete knows to be true about him but he's willing to go along with it and look where they ended up and honestly the magic of the whole thing is so absurd who can believe it I am just constantly blown away this is a true story lol. That twenty years later that kid grew up to be Patrick stump and he's still on stage under a hat with no glasses on next to Pete Wentz and Pete's still going, "EVERYONE LOOK AT THIS AWESOME TREASURE I FOUND."

I can't.

[drabbles-mc]

I do not know if you are still during the dirty headcannons (or when they even started because I just ran across the one you did for Gilly and completely blacked out) but I would love to see what your little gremlin brain can some up with for Y for Miguel or EZ. Whomever, really. I know I am not going to be ready, but I will welcome it either way. I love you.

the way that there is never really an end date to any ask game i reblog because i'll always reply no matter how late you send it 😂 plus let's be real @darqchilddaydreamz let that shit sit and collect some interest before she came bursting into my inbox with that so we're all on this journey together now lmao

thoughts under the cut for: Y - Yes, Master (what kinds of names are used during sex? do they like being called master / mistress, daddy, etc…? what names do they call their partner?)

perhaps someone should take my laptop and entire tumblr account away from me because the actual first thing that popped into my head when i read this in regards to Miguel was that that man should be happy that i call him anything let alone something he prefers 😂😂 but that's a me problem. just because i deem him unfuckable doesn't mean that he is lmao

but! on a more serious note. i do think that Miguel is the kind of guy who is very into the whole "Sir" thing. he's on that power trip constantly and we both know that it won't end just because he's in the bedroom. and while in my head he doesn't use any petnames for his girl that are particularly out of the ordinary, i do think that the tone in which he says those pet names are really what sets the whole mood. i think that a majority of the time they aren't really said with affection as much as they are said like a taunt. that's the game he's looking to play. nine times out of ten he wants someone to stroke his ego and if you want to do that by calling him Sir then he won't say no.

howeverrrrr that one other time out of ten????? i think that the right woman would most definitely be able to flip that dynamic on its head. a man with a complex like the one he's got??? the second someone is able to get him into submission mode it is game over. you could taunt and coo and call him baby as patronizingly as you want but if you had him in the right headspace for it he'd still be falling over himself to do whatever it is that you want. as he should be. 😌

Ezekiel on the other hand??? look. we all know. we all know I'm a mess and I'm biased about this man and i simply cannot be stopped. we all know this. but. in terms of things that i haven't already written or blown your dms up about...i have had....a thought or two in my time...

thoughts like i knooow this man has slipped up and called his girl "mommy" without meaning to before. that man has all that trauma and all those repressed feelings. he is a posterchild for it. and the first time it happens he doesn't mean to but once he says it, it's not like he can just take it back. he doesn't mean to say it and he definitely doesn't expect it to be something that feels good after the initial three seconds of panic after he said it. but he did and it does and then it's something that he now knows about himself.

and it's never an accident after that. it's not a constant though either. it happens when he feels like everything is falling apart or out of control and he needs to feel like he's the one being taken care of for once instead of being the one taking care of people. and he's soft and he's needy and he's never really let go of control like that before.

ANYWAY. if you ever find yourself wondering what's going on in the recesses of my little gremlin brain. there's a tiny little slice of it for you. 😂 we out here sleep-deprived and full of thots 😂😂

Dirty Headcanon Game

[thistransient]

In the end, after all that fuss about Typhoon Doksuri, the trip to 屏東 was unanimously cancelled and we parties involved ended up meeting yesterday in Taipei instead. Now Typhoon Khanun (ขนุน, jackfruit) is upon us, whose effect (on the north, at least) seems inverse to the amount of attention I was paying to it. Today I noticed public transport is reduced, some flights cancelled, and judging by the amount of dead fish on the bike path, the riverside park was flooded at some point. Pro: the temperature is down enough to go for walks during the day Con: might get blown away while doing so

I feel both very stagnant in life right now, and also as though time is passing in a slippery blur. I haven't gone to any shibari/繩縛 events in a while after sustaining some mild nerve damage which still hasn't resolved itself- it doesn't impact my quality of life in any significant way but it still felt like a wake-up call to the real level of risk involved (and underscored that I'm really not into 責縄/semenawa). I also had a kind of silent falling out with someone I considered a close friend- I could not be arsed to arrange our next meeting and figured I'd let him take the initiative and he just...has not. Maybe he's of the same attitude and is waiting for me to contact him, I don't know. Lately I just want to go become a hermit in the forest (were it not for the mosquitos), so who knows how long this will go on.

I need to change something in my life (no, repotting my plants does not count). I want to be employed and financially independent, get residency, and have health insurance again. It's not that I've never achieved these things, it's that it's always been a struggle to maintain them (especially all at once), and I am plagued by the fear of failure and rejection (as are many people, I suppose). However, I am approaching the tipping point wherein the guilt at inaction will outweigh the fear of action.

I think I also need to be constantly learning new things to feel fulfillment in life, and while I'm still working on Chinese on my own, the instant gratification of language learning tends to decline as one departs from the thrill of being able to order a meal or have a chit-chat and descends into advanced subtleties generally encountered in solitude while reading. Well, for me at least. I do get a kick out of figuring out puns, but there comes a point where language itself becomes much less relevant than the task at hand- ie: being more relieved that I had finally gotten my bank card unlocked than excited about the fact that I was able to complete the process in Chinese. This is when I get bored and go in pursuit of novelty. I used to think it was some sort of moral shortcoming, or damning judgement of my attention span, but now I'm more inclined to believe it's a normal human feature and learning a new language every few years is not the worst thing I could be doing with my time on this earth.

That is to say, stagnant as I may feel, I do have a direction, I just need to commence.

[mystery-moose]

EYO THE OSCAR NOMS ARE OUT

Let’s discuss!

BEST PICTURE: I've seen four of the ten nominees this year! Not a bad score for me. Of the remainder I am very interested in American Fiction, Anatomy of a Fall, and Past Lives. American Fiction in particular got Jeffrey Wright a Best Actor nomination! I love Jeffrey Wright! He deserves more recognition! Any film that can get him that has gotta be worth something.

Of the ones I’ve seen… I’d probably select Killers of the Flower Moon as the best? It’s a hard watch, but the craft on display at every level is exceptional. If not that, then… I dunno, maybe Barbie? The Holdovers is a safe choice, it’s a great movie, but there’s almost nothing… surprising about it. Barbie is CONSTANTLY surprising! But it’s also a madcap comedy bathed in metaphor so… man I don’t know!

Regardless, I wouldn’t pick Oppenheimer. Not to disrespect it, I genuinely believe it to be a very interesting film that’s compelling to watch, and as always Christopher Nolan’s ability to make weird-ass films with experimental structures popular with a mass audience is worthy of tremendous respect. But its pacing is rushed, its script is sometimes awkward to the point of parody, and I just don’t know that it’s saying or doing anything THAT interesting or enlightening about the real people involved or about people or history in general. Y’know?

BEST DIRECTOR: Nothing but Best Picture nominees here, which makes sense. Pretty blown away that Alexander Payne didn't get a nom here for The Holdovers. Not blown away at all that Greta Gerwig didn't get one for Barbie, despite that whole thing clearly being her baby. A real Streisand situation here, I'd say! "Eight nominations on the shelf, did this film direct itself?" Regardless of who wins (or even who I think deserves to!) I'd definitely say Gerwig got snubbed here.

BEST ACTOR: All best picture nominees here, save for Colman Domingo for Rustin. Had never heard of this film before, because it's a Netflix film and they always bury all their work, but it's about a civil rights activist so that makes... how many years that the Academy has included one of these in a Best Actor/Actress context? Selma, Harriet, Judas and the Black Messiah. I'm sure Colman Domingo gives a good performance, just noting that the Academy loves to nominate these for acting awards and not honor them in most any other way. (Hey, Jeffrey Wright's in that movie too! Good year for him!)

Bradley Cooper's here too. I don't think I like him very much! I've never disliked him really, but I've never loved his performance either. But the Academy seems to, since he's been nominated... TWELVE TIMES? Holy SHIT no wonder I wasn't surprised to see his name. Never won one, though. He keeps this up, maybe they'll throw him a pity one like they did for DiCaprio. Then again, I don't think Cooper assigns as much value to it as Leo did -- or at least, it doesn't feel like it. I care so little about Bradley Cooper! I don't follow his personal journey very closely! He's fine, I guess!

As a fan, I'd LOVE to see Jeffrey Wright take it, even though I haven't seen his movie. Of the ones I have, Cillian Murphy is very good in Oppenheimer, no question, but I've gotta give it to my man Paulie G. Dude is an incredibly talented actor with a non-traditional look who's done great work for decades and deserves a big win. He's fantastic in Holdovers too! It's a layered, funny, incredibly natural performance that he just falls into. Not particularly showy, which lowers his chances for a win, but to me (and most sensible folks) that makes it a better performance, so there, nyeh!

BEST ACTRESS: I haven't seen four of these but if they don't give it to Lily Gladstone they've fucked up. Sorry, other nominees, that's all there is to it. Also, where the fuck is Margot Robbie? She's incredible in Barbie! If I get to Supporting Actor and Ryan Gosling is there, this is misogyny.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR: This is misogyny!! But I'd love for Gosling to win for this. It'd be his first, and for a role like this that'd be hilarious. That being said it's still a tremendous performance! His commitment to the role both on-screen and off is clear, he's having a ball throughout, and he does his own dancing! God, I just wanna see his speech.

That being said, he has some extremely stiff competition. De Niro continues his golden year renaissance with an excellent performance of a very evil man in Killers of the Flower Moon, and Downey Jr. is so good in Oppenheimer that it took me a couple minutes and a scene transition to realize it was him at all! Also Sterling K. Brown and Mark Ruffalo are here! I like both those guys! If I had to pick one that I've seen that isn't Gosling? Probably Downey Jr. If I gave Oppenheimer one award, it would be this one.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS: I like all these actresses, I think America Ferrera is very good in Barbie, and Jodie Foster has been doing great work lately, but this award belongs to Da'Vine Joy Randolph. She takes a character that could be one note in The Holdovers and invests them with so much life and complexity and history. I still think about that movie in part because of her, and because she made choices that made that character feel more authentic. It's maybe the most I've been impressed by an actress in a good long while, frankly! She deserves this one! Don't fuck it up, Academy! (but I know you will)

ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY: All Best Picture nominees, save for a movie called May December... because it's a Netflix film, of course. God, they sure do make a lot of award-worthy films I never ever hear about, huh! Wild how that happens! (Did you even know a new Spy Kids movie came out this year? Of course you didn't! It was on Netflix!)

I haven't seen four of these, but heard good things about Past Lives. I do really love The Holdovers though! Unless one of the others really knocks my socks off, I'd be comfortable with that winning here.

ADAPTED SCREENPLAY: Oppenheimer does not deserve this. I'm sorry, maybe it's a failure of editing, but the pacing on this thing is too breakneck. Maybe that's a failure of editing more than screenplay, though. Then again, the dialogue itself is uh... often pretty blunt and borderline silly, in that Nolan sort of way! So, y'know!

I'd love to see Barbie win it. It's so fucking funny, and occasionally vibrating with pathos. But I haven't seen the others, and they might rule, actually! American Fiction might be great! I'm looking forward to finding out when it hits digital!

ANIMATED FEATURE: I still think we probably shouldn't cordon these off into their own category, but then so few would get nominated for anything, so let's just live in the world we have, huh? The Boy and the Heron is a Miyazaki film, so that automatically makes it a contender, though I've heard some mixed things about it. Nimona is a dark horse that I remember having some buzz around it earlier this year, and Robot Dreams is a sad movie about a robot so it's automatically a movie I vibe with! Elemental... exists! (Why in the hell was this nominated and not Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mutant Mayhem?! Why of all things did THAT get snubbed?!)

But we all know this belongs to Across the Spider-Verse. It might not be a complete narrative, but purely on visual spectacle alone, it should win. It is, without question, the wildest eyeball experience I've ever had watching a movie, finally dethroning the previous occupiers, the Wachowskis' Speed Racer and the animated film Redline. It is constantly visually surprising and experimental, to the point that much like its predecessor I don't know how they fucking did some of the stuff they did. It's not the out-of-nowhere immediate game-changer that its predecessor was, and it might not have the immediate influence on an entire genre in the same way... but I think it pushes the medium even further! I can't wait to see what other movies look like in the future because of it.

(also the production sounds like it was a nightmare, animators deserve more pay and more respect, unionize, etc.)

PRODUCTION DESIGN: I mean, of all the things about Napoleon, how it looked was the absolute best of them. I wouldn't be too upset if it won... except I would, because Barbie. I mean, come on. COME ON. This one's a gimme. (Though why is The Creator not here? I know it was a pretty bad movie, but the design? Absolutely impeccable vibes!)

COSTUME DESIGN: I mean. Barbie. Did you see Ken's outfits?

CINEMATOGRAPHY: This is my nerd-ass award I care about. I've liked Hoyte van Hoytema's work in the past, and if Oppenheimer won this I wouldn't think it a complete miscarriage of justice -- it's got some really great images in it. But to me this is Flower Moon's award to lose. I haven't seen the others, but I don't know that anything else is going to match that. It's not too showy, but it is pretty damn impeccable.

There are also movies that I think got snubbed here, like John Wick 4 (yes I'm serious) and Sisu (again, I'm serious) and The Killer. Heck, they didn't even nominate The Holdovers here, and that movie leans into its period setting by aping the cinematography of films from that period! That's neat!

EDITING: That Oppenheimer is here is more proof the Academy doesn't know what good editing is. I mean, if you isolated a couple scenes of that movie, there IS great editing there! And even structurally, I think it makes some bold choices that should be rewarded! But as a whole, I didn't feel like I had time to breathe during a scene, and most of that is down to Nolan always choosing to cut or transition too soon. Sometimes it's even a matter of seconds! But those seconds matter! They're the difference between me feeling like I'm moving through a room and feeling like I'm being hurried through a room, y'know what I mean?

I'd probably go with Flower Moon here, but Holdovers has a lovely, languid pace to it and some very funny cuts, so I'm leaning in that direction too. Haven't seen the others!

MAKEUP AND HAIRSTYLING: How is Barbie not here?! What the hell kind of award show is this?! (A Bad one, we all know this.)

SOUND: (This used to be two awards, one for sound mixing and one for sound editing, and on a technical level those are two very different skills, but whatever, Academy!)

This is one I think that Oppenheimer will probably take, because it does some cool things with sound a few times. But it's also one that I think The Creator might actually deserve. Some really killer sound in that film, right up there with its production design -- which it should have gotten a nomination for! Also, Mission: Impossible dark horse, just to give it something. Because I love those movies, even if this year's was maybe my fourth-favorite Mission: Impossible movie that still makes it better than most movies!

VISUAL EFFECTS: It's kind of a long-shot, but I'm pulling for Godzilla Minus One here. Guardians looked good, The Creator looked good (it's about all it did) and I absolutely adore and respect the commitment to practical stunts and car chases and effects in Mission: Impossible and it should get all the recognition possible for throwing a real train off a real cliff... but c'mon. It's Godzilla. And by all accounts, it does so much with so little, at least in terms of budget. It's a movie directed by a guy who previously supervised visual effects! Of course it was gonna look good! That it looks that good at that budget though? Might be enough to get it the big win. Here's to hoping! It'd be nice to see a movie that cost about ten million dollars be recognized as having better visual effects than a movie that cost... two hundred and fifty million Jesus Christ what are you doing Disney.

ORIGINAL SCORE: Be neat to see Indiana Jones take this one! Good score, nice but not too reverent. But I don't have particularly strong feelings this like I have in previous ones. Don't remember many movie scores from this year, nothing's made it into my playlist beyond a couple Mission: Impossible tracks, certainly nothing's impressed me as much as something like The Batman's score or anything.

ORIGINAL SONG: Two songs from Barbie here, one from the Flamin' Hot Cheetos movie (yes it's real and yes it's historically inaccurate!) and one from... Killers of the Flower Moon. Uh oh. Uh oh! I was all ready to be ride or die for "I'm Just Ken" (and to be clear if it won I wouldn't object) but that song in Flower Moon and how it hits at the end... well. It should probably win, is what I'm saying. Even if it's not the fun choice. Be nice to see it performed, at least. These will all be great performances, probably!

DOCUMENTARY FEATURE: I haven't seen any of these! I usually don't until at least year or two after the fact! Just how I end up watching documentaries, usually. It'll probably be the one about Ukraine, though. Not necessarily because it's the best one, but because the Academy likes to think that making picks like that is somehow activism. (Also can you believe that's still happening? Ukrainian sovereignty, end the war, etc.)

INTERNATIONAL FEATURE: Haven't seen any of these, but heard good things about Society of the Snow. Zone of Interest is a best picture nominee, so odds are that'll be the one that wins. Surprised a Japanese film got in here but it's not Godzilla! Damn! Was hoping for a dark horse win for Big G!

ANIMATED SHORT: Never seen 'em!

DOCUMENTARY SHORT: Most of the short documentaries I watch are on Youtube these days!

LIVE ACTION SHORT: Good for all these people who got nominated!

THAT'S IT hoo boy the Oscars, huh. This year's a bit of a dull one, nothing that I'm really excited about winning anything outside of like, Barbie. Killers of the Flower Moon definitely deserves a lot of awards, but how many it'll get remains to be seen. Also I just realized DiCaprio didn't score a nomination for his part in that! Just Lily Gladstone! Haha! Good! (Though I do think DiCaprio's work has improved noticeably after he finally got his stupid Oscar. Almost like he stopped trying so hard and that made his performances feel more natural! Wild!)

Anyway, next year I'm gonna be stumping hard for Dune 2 so. Be prepared for that.

[lotho]

Kaishin in Canon AU pt2

Continuation! (sorry if i fuck up names, i am a eng dub bitch lol)

(Edits, changed the last part of the pervious post lololol)

- Kaito does some detective work and saw the buffoon detective Mouri that his bf mentioned here and there has suddenly gained popularity, which makes Kaito kinda suspicious

- He breaks into the Mouri office and looks around for any clues but finds nothing, he does get interrupted by a particular small detective

-Almost gets his head blown off cause Conan doesn’t recognize him

- Shortly after that, Kaito comes very cheerfully with a horrified Conan saying “Where the fuck is my boyfriend, ran.”

- little Conan is breaking out in cold sweat when Ran mentions Shin’s phone calls to her that he is safe, he is somewhere solving a very secretive case

-Kaito call bull to that as even if shin is shin, he always tells Kaito everything especially if it is a very dangerous cases bc of how much he trusts Kaito and thinks it is just an excuse

- Kaito being Kaito decides that if his bf is refusing communication he is going to be a camp out of the Mouri detective agency until shin is mature enough to communicate with him! (immature vs immature)

- Mouri tries to get rid of him but how do you get rid of someone that just fucking appears out of thin air!??!?!??!

- Unsure if Shin as Conan would be ether really awkward around Kaito or be like a total brat to piss him off, like fuck up his magic tricks and constantly telling him ‘i hate magic’ and that its shit, that he has seen clowns from a circus do better lol

-  Just constantly trying to get rid of him but fails

- Adventures with world’s dumbest detective, a teenage girl who could kill grown men if she wanted to, a dying inside magical secret thief teen and the boyfriend of the magical teen that got shrink and has to hide that^TM

- Heiji would be HILARIOUS cause of how dense that motherfucker would be

- Conan would be trying to shut him up as he talks about meeting shin and how good buddies they are, Kaito is holding in his jealously as Heji just thinks he is the jealous best friend of Kudo and so keeps at it

- Heiji accidentally made himself the other women lmao

- “EH? KUDO THAT IS YOUR BOYFRIEND??” “THIS IS WHY I TOLD YOU TO SHUT THE FUCK UP-”

-Unsure when Shin would realize he is being a coward but he does eventually turn around (perhaps Kaito being more distressed and actually really fucking worried that their relationship and discussing that with little Conan)

-He would start of with being sorta sweet and apologetic but would quickly become snarky and be like “Ohh so you finally agree it wasn’t my fault” and “please stop being freeloading with ran, she is already dealing with her father’s relationship.”

- Shin still doesn’t discuss his situation and in trade for not telling Kaito they would be in constant contact with daily calls and texts/emails (?)

Happy ending? No, not really.

- “Ah small detective, you have always had a grudge against me, would have not thought it would be you to unmask me.”

- Being Conan he finds out that Kaito is Kid, it is like canon were Conan was chasing Kaito just when bored and simple rivalry

-Kaito got away only because of Conan’s shock

-Shin is distraught, not really because of stealing cause he could look past that but just how much he realized would he ever be able to take down his boyfriend if it came to it? Is he as a detective bringing danger to his boyfriend? Is his boyfriend using him as protection? Because of him being creditable personal if he were to ever get caught?(no of course not, Kaito has given him a red rose since childhood, he loves him because of their history right?) -It is sorta nail in the coffin for Shin, as along with being almost a year since his transformation

-He has not been able to hold his boyfriend, go on dates, kiss, or even just be in a comfort presence with him, there phone calls are fine and full of love but that is not the love his boyfriend deserves

- At this point he isn’t sure if he can even come back to his original form, he is always a step back and step forward even when gaining new alliances (ie- Haibara), would Kaito even wait for him? Shin would not be sure if he would be more broken on the fact that Kaito wouldn’t or he would wait for a person who would never come back?

-What if the organization ever go for Kaito? Figure is Kid and expose him? What if they ever hurt Kaito? How would he live with himself?

- ‘Maybe Aoko is the one to make Kaito happy and not him’ ‘She would make him so much more happier than me.’ Shin thinks  

- So Shin breaks it off

-  the conversation goes something like this?

“I-I don’t want you to be involved.” “Involved with what?! What have you gotten yourself into?!? I would stand with you for everything-” “No, you don’t understand, this is something that even I don’t I would be able to get myself out.” “What?” “I’m sorry” *Hangs up*

- Shin has never been great with dates that were not related to a case, it was a very happy anniversary for Kaito as he looks at the little fake ring he proposed with when they were kids and look at a very new and brought with cash he worked hard for without stealing anything with for his ex-beloved

idk ya could make this happy or worst but this in the end for me (well for now lololol) :D

[slytherinshua]

I seem to remember watching spirited away when I was really young, but I hated it for some reason? I think that I may have found it slightly scary lol. I then watched Howl's last year and was instantly blown away by the art style and animation! I started watched castle in the sky with my friend during class once lol, but the WiFi always would cut out around 4pm so we never finished it in class lol. He has recommended that I should watch Kiki's and Princess Mononoke too. I think I've seen people talk about Ponyo, is that a studio Ghibli too?

I'm actually so excited!! I am glad it's only 2 weeks away, I don't think I'd be able to wait any longer lol. It's inevitable that they'd be enlisting at some point, but I don't want it to be so soon 😭. But also at the same time, the sooner it's done the better! I'm so glad that Yechan and Sangyeop have already completed theirs though, at least it won't be everyone going away at once! (I'm so glad I'm not a Korean male though, just the thought of having military service constantly looming over me scares me so much, I wouldn't survive a day in the military lol)

I'm still going through all of Hyunsang's music, but it's been so good so far!! Although I will admit, I did have to stop listening for a bit because it was so melancholic and I needed to cheer myself up before I had to meet up with friends lol (I needed all the positive energy that I could gather to get me through a very social dinner lol). I am still ready to hunt down whoever hurt this precious man if you are ahaha

that makes sense cause spirited away does have a lot of kinda creepy things in it lmao but it's seriously such a masterpiece!!! yes princess mononoke is so good too!! i'm not feral for ashitaka i promise (lies just look at him)

yes its ghibli as well!! i literally grew up watching totoro or ponyo every single day like that's the only thing i would ever want to watch and i never got tired of them lmao.

yeah... it sucks but at least it'll be over with soon and they'll be back :( i heard some walwals say that the 4 birds in the birdcage are like 2 staying and 2 leaving.... aka military :(( LIKE OMG STOP 😭😭😭 no that's so real like the thought terrifies me??? cause i have no strength in my body idk how they do it like damn... navy scares me even more cause the ocean SCARES me SDKJSD

yeah no i'm right there with you... i can't listen to hyunsang some days cause i will get so sad and just cry 😭😭😭 like i'm listening to his covers rn and i just love how before he starts singing he takes a deep breath and idk his eyes look so sad i just feel like he holds so much emotion and feeling in his body and you can really tell how he perfectly executes that in his music :( every song of his is just so incredible </3 (that's why i like listening to his osts sometime to get a break from the emo music lmao i swear that's the only time you'll hear him singing upbeat love songs) i'm ready whenever i would die for him istg WHO HURT HIM 🦅🦅🦅 idk whether to be thankful or sad cause without it i wouldn't have any of my favourite songs but still.... hyunsang :( ugh he's so perfect his voice is EVERYTHING

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

✨✨✨✨✨ANGEEEEEEEEEE!!!!! ✨✨✨✨✨

Okay hiii ~~ I’m dumping all these thoughts on you so be prepared 🤭

So like I said in my last message, I’ve been a very dark place recently where everything seems like it’s constantly hitting, but after asking for your advice, I took it to heart and really followed if, finding it really did help taking it one tiny step at a time with the simplest things. Life is still throwing every little shit it can find at me, but I’m dealing with it much much better, and I feel like I owe you some thanks to that, so again, I don’t think I can ever tell you how much I appreciate you and enjoy your presence!! I never got to respond to it, but I read your post recently and felt like this was more important to respond first.

Two, I’m so saddened to hear you’re feeling a bit lost about the writing and fandom. I haven’t been on much trying to focus on my self so I don’t know much, but when I do check in every now and then, it does seem… quiet? I hope and think it’ll liven up the closer it comes to June. But regardless of that—

I ADORE YOUR WRITING. Your writing is some of the most thought-provoking, emotional pieces I’ve read, and it truly shows and reflects just how much heart and soul you put into it. I’ll be honest, there’s some times when I can’t read certain fics of yours because I’m not mentally in the right headspace for some, but— to me— it just reflects on how great and impactful your writing is!!! Idk if u remember, and this was when I newly started following you so I was like extra super nervous and shy lol, but the person that requested the jealous Ettore was me. I think I remember sending an anon back and thanking you bc I was impressed and thankful you accepted it, but also I was so shy my hands were shaking the entire time so it was a bit blurry lol. I remember literally fangirling and gushing to my two friends (one who doesn’t even care about Ewan lmao) about how I was so impressed and blown away by it!! Your Ettore series had me hooked (AND IM STILL NOT OVER HOW IT ENDED— I WILL NEVER RECOVER. I will sue you for my emotional damages 🥺)! The Aemond one where after a toxic relationship, the reader tries to escape and he doesn’t let her literally made me want to wallow in the despair. And the Michael Gavey one where I basically wrote an essay of how much I loved it is still one I think about way too much for it to be healthy— plus it’s given me some really crazy dreams 🤭 Those are just my top three! Much to say, I adore your writing. I adore the commitment and dedication you give and feed us. And most importantly, I adore you. Although selfishly I hope you continue, I hope you know no matter what you ever decide to do, I’ll always support and follow. I am a la loyal after all 🤭😂

In all seriousness, I hope life is treating you well, and i hope you’re being kind to yourself. I’m sending all my love and support!! Please stay safe and healthy. Much much much love to you, Ange 🩶🩶🩶

-Hannah Montana anon.

Post Scriptum:: this was insanely long and completely manic-produced, I am so so sorry !! ✨

I am so glad that my advice has helped a little and things are starting to improve for you. I hope they continue to get better!

I had no idea your were my jealous Ettore anon! I had so much fun writing that, thank you for sending it! And thank you for the kind words, they truly mean a lot. You have never been anything but kind and supportive to me, and I hope you realise how appreciated it is!

I've no plans to deactivate this blog. I enjoy reading other people's fics, and looking at all the pretty gifs. I just need to do something for myself that makes me feel better about my own creative output. I've no idea what that is yet, but I will figure it out!

Thank you for taking the time to check in. I hope the rest of your week is a good one. Sending so much love to you! xoxo