#my horrible rotten man

[gatorgrumbles]

If I'm not drawing him serving cunt I'm not alive.

[shrowdly]

do you think about how he had to draw every single one of those spells

[noirapocalypto]

ᴊᴜᴅᴀʜ ᴅᴜʙᴏɪꜱ

Do not edit or repost anywhere.

[fionnaskyborn]

one day when i am not busy dying on the inside and out i will write an honest-to-god essay about how people are, for the lack of a better descriptor but simultaneously for the lack of a more perfect one, too edgy about five.

[the-acid-pear]

I don't know if i simply am carrying my heart in my sleeve now days or if everything just keeps getting worse. Perhaps it's a bit of both.

[yeuxpourris]

Do you guys think they would have explored each others body through zoom meetings?

[puri-kura]

was told by an ouji that i remind them of an ott sweet mana today and im still reeling

[maximwtf]

“I would endure endless defeats before burdening you.”

Capitano x Reader

Words: 4200

Google Docs Pages: 7ish

Warnings: 5.1 spoilers but just about Capitano, established relationship but everything has to be horrible so it’s not established but kinda is but just when you think it is, it’s not. Angst/ kinda comfort? Idk you try to comfort an immortal man rotting from the inside and see how it goes. I guess like the tiniest amount of fluff but that’s sad too. Bad communication, emotional hurt. I imagine him with more real rot, maybe with some abyssal like Dain? Idk, but this is written based on that :) Rotten man, save us.

Opening: Does he have people to open up to about all the years he’s spent with his condition and the thoughts of regret he’s accumulated? Would he allow himself that comfort even if he did? Because that has been for you to figure out, bit by bit. 

AN// G/N reader. I don’t think yall understand how happy I was to get this lore drop on Capitano. Like wdym they have a suffering old man in the cast, and you kept him from me for this long?! Anyway, I feel like it was my duty to write something for him due to that. Enjoy.

If you have any fic ideas for him, feel free to request :)

“I would endure endless defeats before burdening you.”

The hallway outside was silent, matching the space behind the door at the very end of it. A faint light on a sturdy wooden table, a couple other lights scattered here and there. But no amount of warm candles nor a bigger fire could truly disperse the coldness in the room. The man inhabiting it, so stupefied by it by now that he barely noticed anymore. And the people who had before, dared not mention it anymore either.

The light outside had disappeared some time ago. The sun never truly rose in mid winter, or at the very least it didn’t seem like it did. Especially on the days when the snowfall was so thick it painted the horizon white. Covering the sun along with its soft blanket. And so it had done on this day as well, and by the look of it grown tired by the end. Yielding, and soon the snowflakes turned so small it looked more like powdered sugar from afar. Only a little too late for the sun to make any sort of appearance anymore, the chance for that long gone. 

Did the sun have regrets at the end of days such as this? Had it not tried hard enough to repel the heavy snowfall on this day? And now that it had failed, would the people who’d longed to see it shine once more at the end of the day be disappointed? Would they be blinded enough to not see that it had tried to save the end of the day with a few rays of its light, only to realise it was far too late for that? And that it would try again just as hard if another chance was given. 

Capitano stared outside through the window of his office. These seemingly eternal thoughts running through his mind yet again. At times hoping his mind would rot enough to be able to forget any sort of regret he may have still been holding on to. But a curse seemed to stay as such, unable to forget and let his mind rest. 

Not when small things around could be used to remind him, having to shut his mind from viewing these aspects around him on such a deep level. In truth having nothing to do with the past and the actions taken and left undone. All the more reason to try and forget any regret. 

His eyes gazed outside at the snowfall. It coming down in a straight line, placid as ever as it settled to its rightful place. To perhaps be blown to a new location the next day with a gush of wind. The weather was so calm it almost appeared warmer outside than in the uncomfortably chilly office of his. The cold that would have sent a shiver or two down his spine in the past.

Capitano’s eyes focused on his reflection against the window. A man he’d constructed his outer appearance to be, something to stay unchanging as everything else was torn from him bit by bit. That was a man with no regrets, someone powerful to look up to. Someone he’d once been fortunate enough to truly be and live as.

Not that he wasn’t that now as well. Enjoying the respect of his peers, troops and alliances. But each show of power reminded him of who he wasn’t anymore. The person he could no longer even become. A rare few amongst the people he met even being able to comprehend the status he’d held all those years ago. 

His head lowered, a careful pair of hands taking a hold of the carefully constructed mask. Removing it with a slow, almost dragging motion. Lowering it along with his hands, eyes having returned to peer at his reflection. The space dim enough to not allow his full appearance to truly show off. But he knew exactly what the blurry and darkened out parts looked like. What the mask so diligently hid behind it. 

What the outer man he’d built was concealing underneath. The commander he’d been and the person he’d turned into. Forced into being. Cursed with something others would spend their lives seeking, not understanding the cost of living beyond their years. How the flesh would deteriorate and rot. How even his soldier’s will and self respect wavered under the power this change had. How his mind had to come to terms with what used to be and what was now. Who he had to be and what he could now do in order to use what he’d been given to make a mark. Even if only to himself, he wanted to be able to to make this time count. He’d be a disgrace to his former homeland if he had given up all that time ago and frozen in place. The only option was to move on. Even if this curse was eating him alive. 

A part of him sighed in relief when the silence deep in the hallway was disturbed, releasing his mind of these thoughts. Focusing on figuring out who was nearing his door. There was no knock, steps that were silent as ever and that paused almost right after as the door behind this person closed once more. The silence, almost like a vicious entity, taking over the space like it was guarding it. And just before that Capitano had come to a conclusion, you. 

“Greetings,” he spoke with a surprisingly formal tone. Quick to adapt from his thoughts to the current situation. Not foolish enough to not have a guess as to what you were doing here at this hour, but hopeful enough a conversation might make you change the course. But the sound of your voice as you replied, ‘evening’, suggested there was a little chance you’d yield. 

There was much he could have done to try harder, yet he surrendered so soon. Who was he to resist your sheer will? The same will he’d tried to direct elsewhere in the past multiple times, yet it always returned to him. A seasoned warrior smart enough to recognize a losing battle when stumbling upon one, he would have known. 

Your eyes followed keenly as Capitano placed the mask from his hands onto the table. The man’s eyes looked piercing in the faint light of the room, no doubt even frightening to the less knowing. You couldn’t even see his face, only the broad frame of his back. Only the blue shine from the glistened against the reflection from the window, as if peering back at you. The sight overall something not seen every day, something most never saw.

There was no reason for your eyes to be the ones to be allowed to see, to watch and analyse. Or so you believed, if there was a reason neither of you dared to word it. As if doing so would unleash some sort of a spell neither of you wanted to see the aftermath of. There was only so much change a person could bare to their person, so whatever it was that Capitano refused to word, was good as it was. 

Of course, you hadn’t come here for simply the joy of visiting. That never seemed to have formed into a habit, but instead seeking him out when word of him rose from the troops. Anything alluding to his person, not the more usual reputation talk. If that ever changed was when it felt almost mandatory to see him. A difference in the behaviour of a person such as Capitano was sure to never go unnoticed. 

“How was your day?” You broke the silence, seemingly ignoring the reflection from the window. He wasn’t a man to hide himself from you, yet some part of you liked to imagine that respect made you not bring his condition up. Not so soon. 

Waiting for his response after a deep ‘hmp…’ felt like an eternity. Allowing you a chance to slip closer to his desk, eyes skipping mindlessly on the items he’d left there. His words had a deeper growl in them when he spoke so silently, “nothing out of the ordinary.” Which likely was true. Your eyes had scanned the papers on the table, a very few left there to linger. Nothing important ever left for the prying eyes to catch. Yet it proved his words correct, no straight lies ever told. He had no reason to lie to you, to hide anything. But the both of you knew the question had been intended for a deeper analysis of his day instead of an overall view. He hid things. Not out of malice, you knew better than to think such things. 

“That’s good,” you answered soon after. Straightening out a few of the papers, stacking them so the corners met each other in a straight line. The moment was so heavy and you’d only now started to realise as much. There was never much you could do if the murmurs around the troops turned out to be true. He felt so far away even when he was so close, merely on the other side of the desk.

You knew him, better than most, yet he’d seen more than any mortal could likely wrap their head around. So who were you to tell him that it would simply ‘be okay’ or that you were ‘there for him’ when you started to notice his gaze wander. He was not simply sad, he appeared melancholic. But at times even that seemed to be rooted so deep down within him that you couldn’t find a word to describe the emotion radiating from him. And he was unable to give you a word for it. Leaving the now physical distance between the two of you to form into a deeper pit of confusing aches. 

But there was also the root of the problem. This was by no means the first attempt of coming to him, seeking him out and attempting to figure out why his mind wandered. Where it was trying to get for it to be something he couldn’t word. What was the reason for the superficial answers, as if speaking to any one of his soldiers. Why let someone so close, but keep them at the threshold when they were willing to come in?

Though, thoughts like these felt ironic. Knowing you played along with this act of his, not only to entertain him but because it felt easy. How easy it was to allow him to care and dutifully take care of his tasks as he always had, and when it came time to actually connect with him to just let it slide each time. His actions never held any malice nor betrayal, there was no man more loyal to their own morals and comrades than him. So who were you to simply blame him for not letting you closer, when it was you who indulged in his way of communicating. 

“The men seemed to have lived a different day.” You commented after, hoping Capitano would pick up on what you meant. He was not foolish enough to be fully unaware of what his own men were doing and talking about when his back was turned. 

And you’d been correct, the comment made the man look down at you over his shoulder. The piercing eyes of his holding so much in them, it was hard to put to words, but you could tell he knew what you meant. And so you indulged in this way of communicating once more.

Seeing as he had nothing else to ‘say’, you continued. “Thankfully the snowfall gave in on the way here. It was an honest nuisance today…” Continuing to speak of the things you always did, the things you found slipping from your lips each time instead of the actual questions and words you wanted to say. But what use would that be when it felt as if there was no one who truly received those words. 

“Here’s to hope tomorrow will be better on that front,” you continued on alone but knowing full well he was listening, even if he knew exactly the topics you’d choose. The mantras you repeated. His attention on you while you slowly circled around the desk to his side, hand sliding against the smooth surface of the desk. The act as if a final cry to ask for him to reciprocate. 

The fabric of Capitano’s clothes rustled, the movement appearing heavier than they likely truly were. He gave you space near him, allowing you to join him near the window he’d been so keen on. “Hm, may it be so then.” He replied, leaving the end of his response hanging. As if there was more to be added, but left out due to the everlasting heaviness of the room and the air inside it. But you didn’t need more. Past a certain point the conversations you held as a coverup to attempt to communicate started being more tiring than standing in silence to try and understand him better. 

Your eyes gazed at the window, his reflection. Turning to peer at his face soon after. The rot, having consumed so much of the man he used to be, carved him into someone else. You had not seen how he’d looked all those years ago, but he’d insisted that even his comrades from then wouldn’t have been able to recognize him today. 

So how could you ever understand him truly? You weren’t sure what sort of explanation you were waiting to gain from him to make you understand, when there likely was none. He’d seemingly accepted his fate a long time ago, an eternal life ahead of him each morning he woke. Up until the day his body would falter at last. 

But in your eyes that was not a life worth leading on, not with the regrets you knew he held. How could a man rotting from the inside still yearn to fix something that hadn’t even been within his power to save in the first place?

You’d initially not even realised that was likely what he was thinking when his mind started to wander. Not when you’d first seen his face, seen the state he lived in each day. You’d initially feared he held some form of heaviness within him for the way he looked. For a human, losing everything you had and who you were would have been a fate worse than death. Losing the strength you held and the person you had been. Yet he held himself the same each day, seemingly no shame in his condition, if only a flickering light of anguish against the fate he’d been dealt. 

On top of that, he had seemingly never let himself fall to ruin. The person he’d been might have changed into something unrecognisable that could easily disturb the too comfortable. But this was a man of honour, a dignified soldier. For the sake of others, you’d concluded, he diligently kept himself clean. Kept the rot that bothered him not, from causing disturbances to the rest. 

So it was clear, by no means had he given up. He was in terms with who he was now, yet at times like these it seemed like his mind hadn’t. When you so clearly tried conversing, attempting to get him to speak his mind, he refused. Treating you gently, leading your conversation on for long enough to tire you and finally make you stop worrying for him. 

You gave the mask on the table a look, an attempt to lean back towards the topic. Neither of you had forgotten nor had it gone unnoticed by him either. Not now or earlier. 

Capitano followed your movements, eyes landing on the all too familiar mask. Not having to even gaze upon it to know what was being asked of him. And he wished, internally held up hopes that the rot was messing with his mind, feeding him thoughts that weren’t true. That you hadn’t come back to him out of sheer worry yet again.

He was ready to be moulded by you into any shape, ready to yield in front of you if that’s what you asked of him. He cared about what you thought, but in some sense wanted to keep you from worrying. The burdens he held within were self inflicted, he knew that much. A part of him knew the regrets he had were foolish, he couldn’t have done anything more than he had. So when he wasn’t driven mad by those thoughts, he had time to try and form a bond with you. A bond which he wished to not be based on a worry of him. 

He knew you were curious, that was only natural. That was why he’d been open about who he was now, what he could offer you anymore. But what would have been the point of going further into his thoughts, those were his burdens to bear. A fault in himself which he’d created. 

“Your cheek appears irritated?” You said silently, gazing at his face with keen eyes. Pausing for a moment as he turned to face you. “I’m sorry if that-” Backing away from what you’d said a little, cringing if it had come across mockingly. Capitano raised his hand slightly, pausing your rambling. “I know. No need to apologise, you’re fine,” he said after and watched as your expression softened back to normal. 

But you’d been honest, the irritation was no mere frostbite that’d got him. You’d seen it before when he hadn’t had the time to upkeep the condition. A neglect he didn’t participate willingly, but something his work on some occasions forced him to pick up. And which you’d find he let you take care of on those very certain occasions. The least you could do to ease your own worry and the yearning to communicate with him about himself. 

Your hand moved to brush some of his hair from his shoulder to a better position. Running your fingers through it gently so as to not tug him on accident. And he didn’t move, not even if you had. Watching you with the same fond expression he always seemed to. Following keenly when you turned your back to him, abandoning his hair and the caresses he’d grown fond of by that point. Rummaging through the upper drawer of his desk. 

The light in the room was rather dim, not allowing you to see what you were seeking for at first. But your hand knew the shape of the small jar containing a lotion you were familiar with. It was no match for something as detrimental as his condition, but seemingly if this world carried anything that did anything to combat it, it was worth it. 

You fiddled with the jar for a moment, turning it in your hands before daring to look back up at his towering form. He didn’t move an inch, even without the mask he appeared honourable as ever. To you, maybe even more so now. 

An old ache radiating from unsaid words and praises stung your chest at moments like these. An uncountable amount of exalted thoughts of him that you just couldn’t bring yourself to tell him, to make him understand that you wanted to share his burdens. None of them would make you view him any differently. No matter how many regrets, scars or rotten flesh would face you, he’d still be the same honourable and respected man in your eyes. 

Your eyes gave him an asking look, almost automatic. The request yet again something you couldn’t put into words, and that would leave an awful ache into your chest for not saying. But you adored how he still always understood, hesitated like he’d always done and still ended up accepting. It was you, after all. 

Capitano sat down on the chair behind him. The old wooden thing let out a small noise under the added weight, the room not falling fully silent after. He watched as you undid the lid of the jar, placed it on the table and carefully leaned closer. Taking some of the product onto your finger and with the same tenderness spreading it on the irritated parts. Yet, even from so close up it felt as if some sort of unremovable distance stayed. Always. 

Capitano closed his eyes for a moment, a low breath escaping him as his form allowed his shoulders to ease ever so slightly. Your touch was always gentle and careful, no matter how far he kept you from his burdens and regrets. So who was he to completely refuse your care? He never wished to turn you down or push you away, but he’d also had the time to rot for 500 years. Building something like this was exceptionally hard, and he’d only now come to figure out what that meant truly. 

You made sure the salve was nicely spread before pulling back, watching as his eyes opened after. Feeling how they followed you when returning back to the lid to put it back on. With movements clearly familiar to the situation, you placed the jar back into its rightful place, closing the drawer with a faint thud. 

“Thank you,” his low voice called out with the familiar growl at the end of his words. Capitano leaned onto his knees, pushing himself up from the chair to return back to the window. His silhouette appeared more frail than when he had the thick cloak on, something that somehow still surprised you every now and then. He was by no means a small man to begin with, yet the cloak changed him so much. Making you wonder if that was why he preferred wearing it so. 

You watched him walk up to the window, this time clearly gazing out rather than at his reflection. Following the now faint snowfall outside in silence. Following along from the side, attention moving back to his reflection at what almost felt like force. Mind so occupied by him it felt impossible to focus on the weather outside. 

You felt almost on edge with how much you wanted to tell him, let him know of what you thought about him to get him to tell you more. It felt almost as if something in your chest stung each time a good moment like this was spent in silence. 

Which was why you almost jumped when he began to speak, not turning around to do so, but nevertheless. “I understand you have your fair share of curiosities about this. But allow me to be selfish, and have you without burdens. And if that by itself is a burden too heavy to carry, you’re not obligated to stay. Know, you are respected even then.” Capitano’s familiar voice spoke, this time for longer than you’d heard during this entire time. Leaving you slightly shaken for a moment, though for an odd reason the air didn’t feel heavy. As if air itself had paused to allow you this conversation. 

And it stayed that way as you walked behind him, hesitating for a moment before placing your forehead against his broad back. Arms sneaking gently around his waist, lose in their hold as your eyes closed. You took a deep breath, mind ticking to form a response. Feeling Capitano tense for a mere moment in the hold before his muscles eased once more. 

Normally, no matter how many walls of protection you shattered from around him, he didn’t seem to react to anything. No matter if he was wearing the helmet or not. A part of you wondering if the corrosion was a sort of a mask itself. 

“I’m not going anywhere. But I don’t want the way I see you to be written on your epitaph. Let me in, make this easier.” The words coming out in a whisper loud enough for him to hear, but not disturb the usual silence. 

A low chuckle escaped Capitano, a part of him amused by the plea. But nevertheless taking it seriously, knowing you’d meant it. “You’re more hopeful than I am,” he replied with a hum. Placing his hands over yours, against himself. Pressing them together lightly, as if hoping that was an answer enough. Aware that it wasn’t, but using it as a way to ask for more time. 

He feared he’d overstep a boundary of sorts, if he told you of his thoughts on a deeper level. He didn’t wish to put them on your shoulders, protecting you from himself in a way. If that was one of the only things he could do for you, not expecting anything from you in return, ever. 

The squeeze from his hands made you lean against him more heavily, a gentle sigh escaping. Not bothering to feel frustrated, not at him. The curse wasn’t his fault, what’d happened to him wasn't his fault and he was in no way obligated to ever let someone so close as he’d allowed you. So even the smallest of actions kept you close to being carefree, in the sense that you didn’t fear that there was no way to help him. There was, and you’d allow him to show that path to you on his own terms. 

[goodlucktai]

What if I said 10 & 20 as portal duo thanks so much

dialogue prompts

10. “I don’t care. I’m not leaving you.”

+ 20. “Get away! You’re hurting them!”

for my beloved meeks

x

They weren’t supposed to be here. It’s stupid, but it’s the first thing that springs to Mikey’s mind. 

Leo had only recently graduated with honors from those initial grueling physical therapy sessions that usually ended in tears (not always Leo’s) to daily exercises that got easier and easier until he was breezing through them the way he used to breeze through everything. 

If he went farther than two steps away from his arm crutches Donnie appeared out of thin air looking ready to breathe fire at him, and Raph was in the habit now of holding Leo out at arm’s length immediately after every hug in the manner of scruffing an unruly kitten to double-check he was wearing his leg brace and compression sleeve, and Mikey had learned the hard way what everyone meant when they said medics make the absolute worst patients. 

But for the most part Leo was doing really good! He was hitting all his marks and only driving everyone a tiny bit insane—well within the allotted Leo amount! 

So when he had smiled that crooked, conspiring smile at Mikey the minute the coast was clear and said, “There’s no better strengthening exercise then sneaking out with my favorite little brother for a past-due victory smoothie,” what was Mikey supposed to tell him? No??

It did occur to him, a tiny little guilty whisper. Leo was healing. He’d been so badly hurt. Even Splinter, who spoiled Leonardo rotten, hadn’t given into the slider’s constant pleas to rush the recovery process along. They were going by the book. Literally, since Donatello had stepped up as team medic in the interim. Don and Raph and April and even Casey were all very good at not bending an inch no matter how many tragic looks got sent their way. Mikey wasn’t very good at that at all. 

And anyway, joy had drowned out that whisper with a shout. He lit up with it, that newly-discovered supernova inside him curling up like a happy cat in a patch of sunshine. There’s a very big part of him that will always be what it’s always been, no matter how old he gets, or how powerful his mystic arts become—he’ll always be Michelangelo, and Michelangelo will follow Leonardo absolutely anywhere. 

So he said, “I’ll get my hoodie!” and darted out the door with zero ninja stealth, clipping his shoulder on the frame and almost crashing into the table in the hall. Leo laughed behind him, and the unrestrained sound made Mikey feel like he could float. Maybe he actually did for a second or two. 

He’ll never forget those horrible minutes after the portal closed, after Leo’s comms went dead, when he had wondered if he would ever hear his brother’s voice again. When he wondered what, exactly, his last words to Leo had been—they almost certainly weren’t I love you or please don’t leave so they didn’t count. 

To make up for it, he wanted to tell Leo everything every chance he got. He wanted to make him laugh all the time. He wanted to crowd into the little twin-size infirmary bed to watch movies or do art projects that got glitter everywhere. He wanted to sneak out for smoothies even though it would get them in big trouble, because that was literally why he helped save the world in the first place. 

And now he’s standing in a dim sidestreet, an orange streetlight buzzing dully above him, two smoothies melting in his hands. It’s their usual shortcut home, through a bunch of foreclosed apartment buildings and a dead end road. Leonardo is in front of him, shoulders stiff, ninpo humming weakly beneath his skin like a tired little beetle that shouldn’t be up from hibernation just yet. 

Across the road are half a dozen humans in what looks like riot gear labeled TCRI and a man in a black suit. The man somehow looks more dangerous than the people in police armor. 

“Leo,” Mikey says in a small voice. His brother doesn’t answer, but he does shift his weight to put Mikey more firmly behind him, which is answer enough. 

And Mikey thinks, We weren’t supposed to be here. No one knows where we are. 

The man in the suit starts talking into the bulky earpiece he’s wearing, but Mikey can’t make out what he’s saying over the buzzing of the streetlamp and the pounding of his own heart in his ears. All he hears is Leonardo murmur, “Mikey, go.”

“No,” Mikey’s mouth says automatically. It doesn’t even need any input from his brain to say it. Because no. 

“Mike,” Leo says, in his best leader voice. But his tone is urgent in a way that borders on being scared so closely it must mean he’s actually terrified, or he would never have let Mikey hear even a hint of it. “I’d go with you if I could. I’m sorry I can’t.” 

His hands tighten on his crutches. He can’t run. He’s still healing. He should be at home, doing his exercises with those little pink dumbbells in the warmth and safety of the lair, complaining the whole time in between tossing out ideas for dinner. 

Mikey should have said no to sneaking out the way Donnie and Raphie would have instantly said no. He should be better at taking care of Leo the way he needs to be taken care of, the way everyone else does so easily. 

The armored people start to shift to the side, moving around Mikey and Leo in a wide formation, hands on the guns holstered at their waists. Containing them. The man in the suit is still talking, face inscrutable behind the tinted glasses he’s wearing, but his face hasn’t twitched away from their direction even once. 

“Hey,” Leo says, bringing Mikey’s attention back. “Don’t look at them, look at me.”

He’s smiling over his shoulder like it’s any other back-alley brawl with the mutant of the week or a handful of those Foot soldiers who never know when to quit, and not a horrible high-stakes situation in which Mikey stands to lose one of the most important things in the entire world if he makes the wrong move. 

“Just get home and get the guys, okay? Then come right back for me. You can outrun these goons without breaking a sweat. You can do anything.”

Mikey drops the smoothies and the cold wet soaks through one of his sneakers instantly but he needs his hands free so he can clutch the back of Leo’s stupid hoodie. He needs to hold on tight and make sure whoever tries to take his brother away knows exactly what kind of knock-down drag-out fight they’re in for. 

“I don’t care,” Mikey says, too loud in the stillness. “I’m not leaving you.”

He wishes he were a snapper like Raphie. If he was big and strong and had a shell that was as good as bulletproof armor, he’d scoop Leonardo up and shield him from the guns and run them both away. 

If he was a genius like Donnie, he’d have one or a dozen gadgets on his person that would have saved them. 

But he’s just Mikey, who isn’t big and strong, who isn’t a genius, who isn’t one of the people Leonardo is willing to step down and be weak in front of and depend on. Just Mikey, who Leo saved all his best jokes for during painful rehab, like it mattered to him that Mikey didn’t see him struggle. Just Mikey, who Leo always lifts both arms for the second he sees him coming and squishes into the world’s best hug, even if he’s pissed off at everybody else. Just Mikey, who Leo wants to get better for, be the best for, be one of the constant things on this planet Mikey never needs to doubt, like gravity and sunrise and overpriced street food. 

Because there’s a very big part of him that will always be what it’s always been, no matter how mature he gets, or how accomplished a ninja master he becomes—he’ll always be Leonardo, and Leonardo would do anything to make sure Michelangelo keeps smiling. 

Leo is also very stupid, because he doesn’t seem to understand that Mikey will never smile again if his big brother goes away. 

When the TCRI agents explode forward at some signal Mikey missed, and grab the brothers and drag them apart, Leo stumbles and falls when his crutches are wrenched away. He’d probably be making a smart-ass comment if his jaw wasn’t clenched, the sudden fall probably radiating pain all the way up his spine, distress making his gold eyes burn neon yellow. 

Like a flip was switched, all the panic inside of Mikey evaporates into a red-tinged mist. 

The supernova inside him sleeps most of the time, because he’s not big enough to contain its multitudes yet, and it doesn’t want to cause pain. It only wants to shine light in dark places, it only wants to help. But it wakes up with a fury and fills every inch of him to the brim and the overflow spills right out of him, lifts him right off the ground, makes his voice a resounding thunderclap when he yells, “GET AWAY! You’re hurting him!” 

Staggering back and shouting in alarm, the agents begin firing, because humans in a panic are trigger-happy creatures, even well-trained ones like these guys must be. Every round fired disintegrates the second it meets the glow pouring out of Mikey, disappearing before it can do harm. 

“Holy shit,” Leo says, eyes wide. It’s the way Mikey imagines he probably looked at Leo, when everyone else feared Raphael was a lost cause but Leo put his hand on Mikey’s shoulder and told him, I’m not giving up on him. I’m not leaving him behind. A sailor lost in a storm and their first glimpse of the lighthouse in the dark, close enough to save them.

“Hold your fire!” the man in the black suit barks suddenly, his voice viciously angry. “I did not clear any of you to fire!” 

Mikey doesn’t care who the scary Men In Black guy is, or what reason he has for tracking Mikey and his brother down, or why he’s calling the dogs off now. He cares about helping Leo get back on his feet, scooping the crutches up off the ground and getting Leo’s arms in them, and staring right into Agent Sunglasses’s stupid face while the supernova burns and burns and burns inside him. 

Try it, he doesn’t say. Just try it. If the Krang couldn’t take my brother from me, what hope do you think you have?

He feels Leo’s arm slip around his, locking them together at the elbow. Leo’s ninpo, a soft breeze instead of the playful gale it’s supposed to be, weaves through Mikey’s own to lead it. 

‘Like this,’ the wind tells the sunburst, guiding it through the process it wants it to take the same way bigger hands used to guide a smaller Mikey through katas, readjusting his arms and poking him playfully on the beak when he scrunched it in frustration. The golden portal that opens beneath their feet costs him nothing, appearing as effortlessly as Leo’s spinning blue ones always do. 

The agent’s face goes slack with shock the second before the turtles disappear. 

They land on the sofa with enough force that it almost collapses, and Leo makes a pained noise, hands pressed to his plastron like he’s trying to contain a full-body ache with sheer willpower. Mikey scrambles off of him and falls off the sofa for his trouble. His clothes are prickly, like he’s covered in static electricity. A magazine left on the coffee table begins to move, pages flipping as if in a breeze. One of the beanbag chairs lifts up slightly, like gravity has gotten lighter in that specific spot. 

He feels too big for himself. There are multitudes inside him, a million different things that are all true at the same time. He’s still so angry, and he’s still so afraid, and he’s still just Mikey, who couldn’t be what Leo needed him to be until the last possible second. 

Just Mikey, who Leo saves his best smile for. Just Mikey, who Leo hugs like it’s the easiest thing in the world to bring another person that close and trust them right next to his heart. 

“You’re the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen,” Leo says, like it’s another truth Mikey can keep for as long as he wants. Forever, even.

There will be hell to pay when their brothers get home. There’s a brand-new danger their family needs to be made aware of. Leo tried to leave him behind again and it reopened a wound that was still raw and healing.

But for now that wild star in his heart doesn’t need to burn so bright. It can put all the furniture that began to float back down and go back to sleep. And Mikey can press his face into the cracked print of Leo’s favorite Chappell Roan hoodie and say, “Hope you enjoyed your last taste of freedom for the next hundred years.”

Leo laughs, but doesn’t let go of Mikey right away. He clings extra hard for an extra long minute.

He would have left, Mikey realizes, but he didn’t want to go. When he was alone on the Technodrome, staring down a monster and a portal and the truth of how to save everyone, he didn’t want to go. If there was any other choice, he would have taken it. He would have come home. 

Mikey isn’t Leo, who will do what he has to do no matter what it costs himself. Mikey isn't Raph or Donnie. Mikey is and always has been the spoiled baby of the family, who will do exactly what he wants to do and damn the consequences. He’ll tear a thousand holes open in the universe if that’s what it takes to keep his family together, and if the Hamato ancestors don’t like it then they can come and take their ninpo back. 

They can try, anyway. 

[yanxidarlings]

YANDERE TWD

REUNITED (yandere! big brother! merle dixon x male reader x yandere! big brother daryl dixon) (yandere! gareth x male reader) (rick grimes x male reader if you squint) NOTES: fair warning, this is some descriptive disturbing shit merle dixon counts as a warning on his own as well. this went in many directions i originally set out for yandere headcanons for the two, then got into the terminus arc, and ended with some pretty vague alluding to yandere. might write a part two)

imagine obsessive! possessive! big brothers! merle and daryl dixon. the dead begin to walk and they keep the darlin safe, meeting up with the atlanta camp. but the brothers won't let anyone get close to the darlin, not dale, not carl, certainly not shane or lori.

somehow, the darlin ends up going with glenn into the city on a supply run, only for it to go horribly wrong. the darlin insisted they head into a chemist to "look for medications" in case anyone in the camp needed them. but it was a lie. the darlin just wanted to find something to help merle with the inevitable withdrawal he'd go through once his supply of drugs ran out. the chemist is overrun by walkers but the darlin insists. "we can clear it!" they say to glenn "it'll be worth it for m- everyone" the korean gave the other a skeptical look. in the end, there was just too many, glenn thought he saw the darlin go down and reluctantly returned to camp.

"oi! shitface, you think you're a big boy now? can do whatever you want now everything's gon' to shit!" the raspy, harsh voice of merle dixon echoed through the camp. the redneck tramped over to the SUV glenn was parking. he remained silent as he turned the engine off. taking a deep breath, the young man exited the car, staring at the grass.

the older dixon stormed over, aggressively opening every door of the vehicle until he reached the boot. filled with supplies. "where the fuck is m/n" he growled, coming closer to the asian "he better be pullin up in another car" merle spat out. "i- it was" glenn stuttered out, looking like he was about to piss his pants "it wasn't my fault, m/n was being reckless, i had no cho-" CRACK glenn's face was soon bloodied and bruised, merle now on top of him, yelling out profanities as he beat the younger man. "merle!" the others quickly ran to pull the redneck off glenn.

"you fucking ch*ng-ch*ng bastard i'll rip-" merle was pried off glenn, who was now rolling around in agony, his face a bloody mess. "what the fuck happen'd" merle rasped out, although to glenn it sounded like a croak "where is he" merle was still being held back by t-dog and shane as he continued yelling. glenn avoided the rednecks furious gaze "the walkers got him" he finally spoke, looking down.

for a moment it looked like merle was about to cry, for a moment merle himself thought he was going to burst into tears like a sissy. "no he ain't" but instead he picked up his shotgun, and got into the drivers seat of the SUV.

that was how andrea, t-dog, jackie, glenn and morales ended up in the city. that was how merle got handcuffed to a roof by "officer friendly" and that was why daryl yelled in agony on that same roof. in the course of a day, he had lost the two most important people in his life.

but merle had survived by cutting off his left hand, and the darlin had survived by covering himself in walker guts.

"china- no- glenn- don't- help!" the h/c-et screamed, the sound of his own gun firing defeaning his ears. as one went down, another lunged at him, rotten teeth clanking together, desperately trying to knaw into his flesh. but he wouldn't die here. he couldn't. not when merle was 'relying' on him to get drugs. maybe then, the dixons would start to treat him as less of a clueless child and more of an equal.

after taking down a few, m/n jumped behind the counter, rummaging through the medications, looking for anything that might help with the withdrawal, or better, give merle his next fix. more of the dead came at him, but he just kept shooting, stabbing, hitting, anything to cause the fatal damage needed to end the dead's miserable 'life'.

BANG one was down BANG another BANG BANG BANG .. the slide didn't move forward as he shot his way through another round. shit. he was out of ammo "glenn!" he yelled out as a walker fell on top of him, wrestling it's way closer to his skin. all the korean could hear was m/n's screaming. which only attracted more walkers. he saw the medicine that m/n had thrown over the counter before going down, stuffing it into his bag, he creeped up closer to the group of walkers that had acculumated, following the sound of m/n's scream. until it stopped. "m/n?" he uttered under his breath, but the pile of walkers on top of each other told him the other was dead. with tears in his eyes, glenn ran out.

m/n struggled against the strength of the walker. it was freshly turned, he could tell. otherwise it wouldn't be so strong. kicking, punching, reaching for his knife, anything to save himself from becoming one of them. plunging his blade into the side of the walkers head, he quickly slit the once-man's throat. covering his face in the blood. before moving down to the abdomen. cutting it open, letting the walkers rotting insides pour out all over him, the ones that had piled on top soon couldn't distinguish the smell of living flesh from rotting blood.

he went silent, breathing shallowly, hoping, praying, they'd move off him and he could silently slip out. but when he was finally free of the chemist, glenn, the supplies they had gathered, and the SUV were gone.

he walked the dead-ridden streets of the once bustling city, covered in blood, hidden in plain sight. he kept walking (which then turned into a limp after getting hit in the ankle by a flying bullet) becoming weaker with each step, hoping to make his way back to camp. only to come to the end of the trainline leading into suburban atlanta. TERMINUS the building read "those who arrive survive" he heard a feminine voice call out from the speakers. maybe they have gauze. he glanced down at his leg, the sleeve of his shirt he had tied around it now dyed red.

"community for all; sanctuary for all" he saw a young man- perhaps just a little older than m/n was, staring down at him from the window. something felt amiss, off, but m/n had lost so much blood he didn't care. he stumbled towards the train station, stopping and starting as he debated his decision.

daryl, merle.. they'll be wondering he thought to himself, stopping for the 5th time, but i won't make it back he began walking again but they'll be looking for me he stopped, nearly tripping but the sudden lack of motion if i found this place they'll find it too he picked up the pace again, frantically moving towards the gates but- as he stopped himself once more, he finally tripped over. right onto the walker trap the train people had set up. his left ribcage was pierced by the sharp metal pole sticking out of the ground, causing the h/c-et to let out a loud screech.

before he knew it people had come out, the same man that had stared at him through the window moments earlier put his hand on the wound, causing m/n to flinch "we're you trying to get yourself killed?" the man mused, seemingly unphased by the active bleeding out that was happening in front of him. the man spoke more words that were muffled as m/n fell out of consciousness.

it was pitch black when he opened his eyes. not a shred of light to allude to the location. pitch black. m/n's hands brushed her his torso, feeling the gauze that was tightly wrapped around his chest. it all came back to him. the chemist, the walkers, glenn, the train people. he shifted his arms, feeling the thin material he was lated on, and the cold metal it covered. attempting to hoist himself up, pain shot through his body.

letting out a groan, he laid back down, closing his eyes. is this death. it certainly felt like it. the nothingness, the pain, it was all he had ever imagined death to be like. what felt like hours passed, the nothingness was almost comforting, how long had it been since he could lay like this and do nothing with no worries. it was all ended when the creaking of the door signaled to m/n that he was not in-fact dead.

the sudden brightness was blinding "you awake?" a masculine voice spoke. m/n's eyes began burning from the light, "i guess" he replied quietly, his eyes closing. "good" the male put down a plate next to where m/n laid "eat up. i know this isn't the warmest welcome, i would have liked to show you around first" the man chuckled, leaning down, seemingly to get a good look at m/n.

the man- who introduced himself as gareth, began speaking about the community- terminus. that they did whatever they had to for survival, that m/n would have to prove himself loyal if he wanted to become apart of the community. he wasn't sure how to tell this gareth guy that he was leaving as soon as possible to find his group.

the discussion started off normal as m/n finished his food, until gareth started talking about how lonely he was, as the leader of this terminus community. it only got creepier as gareth started to call m/n pretty boy, edging closer to him. m/n doesn't want to know what would have happened if that middld aged lady (gareth's mother), hadn't called the man away.

it quickly became evident to m/n that he was never going to leave. gareth locked him in the pitch black train car for hours on end, opening the door when there were armed men to prevent m/n from trying anything. gareth would sit with him and talk, running his hands over the male's body, stealing kisses, it was a reprehensive routine m/n had become forcibly accustomed to.

it all changed the day the hunters attacked. m/n was in his train car, as usual, listening to the outside screams, wondering if the attackers were dead or alive. he knew they were alive when one pried open the train car door, and threw them self on him. he was then thrown into a cramped train car with other terminus residents, where the hunters hand picked who to assault and slaughter each day. he and gareth spent their days huddled up together, talking about their lives before. had m/n not accepted the hunters offer to leave the train car if he worked for them, gareth wouldn't have lost his mind. but m/n was desperate to get away. from the train car. from terminus. to find his family.

but the hunters caught him trying to leave. they did their absolute worst to him and then threw him back in. when the termites took back terminus, gareth locked the leader of the hunters and m/n into the same train car. "this is what you deserve" he told him, before locking the door shut.

perhaps it was years, perhaps it was months, maybe it was only a few hours. the horrors of the train car began to unfold, as the man who had once led the attack on terminus lost his mind: pouncing on m/n at random, screaming for hours straight, trying to eat m/n alive when they'd be deprived of food, ripping his ear off in hungered insanity. as m/n laid there bleeding from his ear, he decided either i escape or i die. had running worked before? no. was he willing to die trying? not really, but a man would do anything for freedom, and that's what m/n did.

the hunter had fallen asleep, a fatal mistake, as m/n wrapped his hands around the mans unshaven neck and squeezed. within second the man awoke but m/n was relentless, not letting go until the other went limp. i just have to wait now he cried to himself, hands shaking. calming, he began to strip the man of his clothes and use the fabric to restrain his limbs.

waiting for the termites to open the door with the meal made of human flesh felt like an eternity. the familiar sound of metal scratching and creaking filled m/n's ear, who quickly sprung into action.

grabbing the reanimated hunter by the hair, he guided it in the direction of the door, throwing it towards the woman holding their plates. she screeched as the hunters corpse sank it's teeth into her flesh, blood pouring from the wound.

m/n grabbed the woman's gun and bolted as the nearby workers aimed their guns at the walker, taking it down swiftly, but m/n had already gotten out of the train car. hiding behind what once was his cage, he shot at every person who came into view. eventually making his way to the fence, through the woods, he didn't stop running until the sound of gunshots stopped entirely. even then, he kept running. he ran for what felt like hours until his lungs couldn't take it anymore. collapsing onto the dirt, heaving in and out.

woodbury had fallen, it's entire population now living in the prison nearby. rick had relinquished his leadership, insisting the prison be governed by a council. he often went on runs by himself, to get away from it all, to look back on his actions, to find lost survivors. it wasn't everyday rick grimes came across a twenty something perhaps younger male covered in blood, breathing like he had never tasted air before. well, usually the young men were walkers. but this one was very much alive.

"please don't" the male groaned out, eyes wide, as rick approached with a knife. "who are you" he drawled out, kneeling down to get a good look at the other. the young males face was bruised, his hair covered in blood, an ear was missing, and the male was emaciated. "uh" the male seemed to have to think about it, as if he hadn't spoken to another human in years "m/n" he finally puffed out, bringing his hand up to his head, where the left ear once was.

rick's hands brushed m/n hair out of his face, causing the male to flinch away "how many walkers have you killed" the older man finally asked after several moments of silence. m/n just stared at him, as if to say he hadn't been keeping track "how many people have you killed" still, the same look. "water" "what" rick narrowed his eyes. m/n used his free hand to shakily point to the man's bag, where a bottle of water was latched on to the side.

rick was silent as m/n chugged the water down "do you have anything sweet?" "no i don't" "oh" something about the boy felt familiar. didn't glenn mention originally going into atlanta to find a boy with a similar description? maybe it was just that the male reminded him of his own boy in a way, or maybe he had already developed a fondness for m/n. "i have a camp" rick looked m/n in the eye "we have walls, food, a community, a doctor that can look at your wound" he added.

the h/c-et shook his head "not again" rick furrowed his brows "what" the boy started to pick himself up "i gotta, um" he started feeling around the ground for his gun, "gotta go" he finished as he felt the handle of the gun. stuffing the weapon into his belt, he stood up, using a tree as a crutch. "c'mon kid, you're going to die out here" rick leaned forward and took the gun out of the others hand "no im not! give it!" m/n lunged forward, only to awkwardly fall into rick's chest, sinking down back to the ground.

"you've got two bullets left" m/n looked up at rick with a glare "either you come back to my camp with me or i just wasted my water on a dead man" m/n held his glare until the sun got into his eyes. "whatever" he looked down, hoisting himself back to his feet with the help of rick's hand.

daryl squinted his eyes as the evening sun glared down, merle had stolen his motorcycle. again. the older dixon was always going off on fun runs without informing anyone beforehand. perhaps because the redneck had never really been accepted into the group like daryl was.

taking another bite of his pork chop, daryl grunted at carol who told him to go in and get some rest. but why would he want to rest when all he could think of when his mind was unoccupied was his baby brother, the boy he had pretty much raised, who was now probably a rotting corpse in atlanta. but daryl still held out hope that m/n had gotten out, that he was safe, that he would find him oneday. this was why he never rested, these thoughts would creep up in the younger dixons head.

the sound of his motorcycle rumbling told him that merle was back. the older dixon sauntered over to daryl, a cigarette sat between his thin lips, "look what you're big brother merle got you, darylina" he pulled a pack of cigarettes out his pocket, sliding it into daryls pocket. daryl said nothing, staring into the distance; was that rick? the figure was too far away to discern.

"dad!" carl called out, jogging down. "look what i- m/n?" the young grimes exclaimed as he came closer to the pair. rick carried the half-conscious boy through the gates "you know this guy?" rick looked at carl, who flicked the hair out of m/n's face to get a better look "he was with us back in atlanta, we thought he died on a run"

daryl's heart stopped, did he hear carl right? they were pretty far away. standing up, he threw the pork bone aside and marched towards the two- three. when he finally came close enough to see the persons face, he had to stop himself from tearing up in front of carl and rick "m/n" he uttered out quietly. the father and son came to a halt as he approached "you knew this guy back in atlanta" rick nodded at daryl "'course i did. he's my brother" daryl was quick to take m/n off rick. he wanted to cut the mans arms off just for touching his precious brother.

daryl rushed m/n into the prison, settling him in his cell, "go get hershel" he told carol, who looked just as perplexed as merle did as he walked into the cell. "m/n!? i thought you was dead" he breathed out, shoving daryl out the way, who was quick to push back, both wanting to be as close to their younger brother as possible "where'd you find him" merle looked over at rick, who was standing out front the cell "in the woods, looked like he'd been running"

rick moved aside as hershel came in, merle reluctantly stood up as hershel sat to access m/n's condition. "he's lost a lot of blood" hershel examined the ear hole where the flesh and muscle had been ripped from "we should have bob look at him, but from what i can see he needs bandaging and antibiotics" daryl grunted "i ain't letting no stranger touch him" he ushered hershel away, taking m/n's hand in his own "i found antibiotics on last weeks run, that gon' be enough" merle looked over at the old man, who nodded "we'll have to see how he reacts"

neither daryl or merle left m/n's side whilst waiting for the antibiotics to kick in. it was strange. no one in the prison had ever seen either of them so worried for or attached to someone. but for the six days and nights m/n spent unconscious, his body fighting off the infection from his wounds, recovering from the months of maltreatment.

when m/n finally opened his eyes, taking in his surroundings, daryl was leaned against the wall at the edge of the bed, eyes locked on the boys face "sleep well?" was the first thing he said after the two had stared at each other for what felt like an eternity "yeah" m/n spoke softly.

"i should have never gone hunting that day" "am i dead" the two spoke in unison. daryl breathed out "no, never gon' let that happen" he shuffled closer, laying down next to the youngest dixon.

daryl stared at m/n intensely, until merle was roused from his sleep "m/n, i told you not to go out of my sight" he grumbled, sitting forward. m/n looked up at the metal frame of the top bunk "i just wanted to get you some narcan" merle stared at him, blinking away tears "didn' have to risk your life for it" he pursed his lips "i ain't worth you dyin'" he added quietly, sitting back, his eyes not leaving m/n's.

the room went silent for a moment "maybe not, but you're my brother" m/n closed his eyes for a moment "do you guys have pop or candy here?" he questioned hopefully. merle let out a chuckle "i found a can on my run today" he chuckled out, before going quiet "i chugged it on the spot"

"you piece of shit!"

[bruciemilf]

No Capes! AU where Bruce and everyone else is an actor.

Famous Hollywood moguls Thomas and Martha would've rather died in real life than make Bruce a child actor so he didn't start till he was 24

It's an ongoing gag that Thomas always tweets "On my way to die again! As if you didn't know" with every Gray Ghost remake

The Waynes are always just. So chaotic

Bruce and Selina constantly bring stray cats on set; Bruce just hides them under his black shirt famously known as a void with no end.

Behind the Scenes cuts have images of this man pulling 10 cats from under there and the director is convinced he has a cryptid on set

They have to edit so much footage because Bruce always says "sorry" after "punching" someone. "Bruce, they have padding, they're fine!" "And no health Insurance. Do something about that."

Sometimes he forgets to take off the costume after filming. The record set for how many Subways he sent into a panic is infinite

That being said, Bruce's kids aren't afraid of him at all, and WILL run up to him everytime they visit to chant "dork! Dork! Dork!" While flocking around him. He cries from happiness

But he cries all the time, so it's hard to tell for what

The movie's soundtrack is just Bruce's middle school playlist, " They said they needed something rotten and terrible, like, -- poison for the ears. If you listen to it you get sick."

Bruce's biggest "diva moment" was refusing to give up the eyeliner and he still sends apology cards to the cast and crew for his " horrible behavior"

"He just kinda said no a bit loud and ran out of the studio while sobbing quietly."

Literally every villain on set is a sweetheart. Selina does her own make-up as well as Bruce's and Oz's and you can see Carmine lurking like a little gobling behind them just to scare her

There's this joke that none of Selina's streams ever go well because the crew is her curse. She's trying to talk about how to steal on set, meanwhile, Bruce next to her, "Did you know cats have no collarbone. Also, the electric chair was invented by a dentist."

You'd think everyone's favorite duo would be Bruce and Selina, and you wouldn't be wrong, but the public can't wait for Bruce and Carmine to have a press conference or interview together

Mostly because Carmine obviously dealt some shady cards in his past and Bruce is so clueless . " Have I ever tried coke...No, I like Pepsi." While Carmine is trying not to laugh behind him

Edward is just as bad. He's trying to tell the director that's not how bombs are made, and someone's head exploding wouldn't look like that, and Bruce is like :O Eddie, I didn't know you were a gamer

Edward is a menace on set and Bruce stays blind to it because he like him. There's rows of videos of Bruce stopping mid scene, going " Eddie," before jumping on the guy like the kitten he's NOT

Alfred still brings Bruce lunch and snacks and he throws down with Oz for no reason. He always brings the kids (read; they sneak in) and it's very clear they're not getting any shooting done that day

Dick, age 10, impatiently asks why Gray Ghost can't have a sidekick. In the last moments of the movie Dick runs in, improvises a scene with Bruce, and the fans love him too much not to include him after

You just leave Bruce alone when his babies are on set; Damian is strapped to his chest cause he's so small that everyone almost steps on him, Jason is giving the writers tip, Tim is taking pics of everyone, and Bruce smothers them with kisses constantly

[chaosandmarigolds]

Blob blop - here’s some more Mafia!reader and Simon :p pt 3

“No!!” You laugh, walking beside the daunting man as you stroll aimlessly through the dimly lit and very well decorated corridors of the museum, “Oh come on! What was I supposed to do? watch and be like: oh that’s sucks.”

Simon gave you a look, it you thought he did, judging by the way his eyes squinted at you, “Well…I don’ think runnin into a busy street is th’ proper reaction to a kitten almos’ gettin hit.”

A moment passed and you stared at him, “So you’re just a heartless monster then.”

He seemed taken back and he stopped walking, turning to face you fully, hands shoved into the jean pocket, “prefer to not think tha’.”

You scrunch up your nose and shake your head, “Nope. That’s a horrible answer. It’s goes cute kitties, cute puppies, cute turtles, cute baby bunnies, ducks, birds, and then people.” When he laughed to that you gave an equal smile, or, again, what you assumed to be a smile.

For the most part you walked through the museum in silence, and every so often you would end up rambling on about some price of art and how it related to some aspect of your story. And he listened, nodding and putting in his own two cents every so often.

“An…Ivon…he just…” Simon faltered off as he looked over his shoulder as you both were now sitting in the lobby of the museum, since you wanted to figure out the certain painting was located, “he jus….follows ya?”

You hum and look at Ivon, waving and then going back to your little map, “Mmhm. Like I said I think he took out like a huge loan from my dad and couldn’t pay it back.” You stay quiet and then look up at him, “That sounds awful. But…uh…my father, he’s a bit of a loan shark.”

“Loan shark?”

-

“Get him out of my sight-“ Before he had the chance to finish his phrase a loud ring of a gun echoed through the office and he groans, “Outside!! just redid the carpet.”

The man, who very often was just called Cary, winced and then looked at the new hire, and then back to his boss. A good looking man for his sixties, peppered hair and a suit that was worth more than his name, so he then took a step forward. Mindlessly going to pour a glass of whiskey, as he normally would after a poor sap crossed his employer.

“I swear these new boys have no respect for the business, gangsters, drug lords- they’re all too stupid to see the business behind it.” Dominic grumbled into the glass as he was handed it, “It’s not all guns, you don’t have to be trigger happy son. You want to shoot you become a solider.”

By that point the twenty year old was already shaking in his boots and he does his best to keep his gaze directed low.

Dominic shakes his head and then shoos the poor boy out, maybe a few more days of training- as good workers were hard to come by and he wasn’t about to murder a good man in the making. The body laying on the ground spoke otherwise but he doesn’t care much about that man, a rotten person: thinking they could backtrack and tell someone of his trade.

After a few moments he lets out a sigh and turns his chair to not look at the body, “Send Ivon in.”

Cary faltered, “He is not yet here, sir.”

A pause, “Really? Where are they? It’s not Friday and bug didn’t put anything in the calendar.”

“A new friend sir, from the flower shop, a Simon Riley. We already pulled a background check, aside from a few juvenile charges and a foster care- he seems to be good, clean.”

Dominic held out his hand and looked as the small folder was placed into it, looking over the picture of the man clipped to the front of it and he gives a nod, “Strong build. Looks depressed.”

“He was prescribed Prozac and trazadone, he has not refilled either within four years.”

He laughs, “Alright. Tell Bug to invite him to dinner.”

(Annnn that’s all! Comments and feedback actually mean the world to me! Toodles!!)

[impish-baby]

Hi, I’m the same anon with the romantic partner ask, and I was wondering how the HIWTHI characters would react if they found out you were kidnapped? Especially with Marcus and Jaiden, because they both seem more like the protective type

(HIWTHI is home is where the heart is)

Also, can my anon name be 🌙?

Ohh, hi!! Yes, it can! ^^

In the situation of reader being kidnapped, whoever did it is a lot more likely to end up maimed or dead by the end of it, especially if you're hurt to any capacity.

Jaiden is pissed. Beyond that, the boy is enraged. All he sees is red, and his mind is screaming at him to wring your captor's neck. They will be lucky if they're able to ever use their hands again with how determined jaiden is to shatter their fingers into bits and pieces.

It's almost better for him in a way if you were kidnapped rather than willingly leaving somewhere as horrible as that sounds. They... stole you. You didn't want to leave. You didn't want to leave him. That motherfucker took you..put their filthy hands on his baby sibling.. Jaiden will make sure they choke on their teeth.

Marcus is just as angry, but he's willing to let jaiden be the one dealing with the scum, someone has to take care of you after all. The man has always had a cold exterior, but you can almost hear his heart break at the sight of your terrified expression. His poor poor baby...

Being scooped up into his arms, held so very carefully against him like you'll break if your dad is any rougher. Marcus is trying his best to remain strong, but he burys his face into your hair and let's out a shaky breath. What a rotten excuse of a father he is...

When you are back home, you're not even allowed to sleep by yourself anymore. Everyone is paranoid, even as they update the homes security to the highest degree. If you're not snuggled between your parents, one of your brothers is holding you like you'll disappear if someone doesn't have their arms around you (for the first few nights, everyone is together in your parent's bed. It's unbearably warm, but..almost nice seeing the whole family together)

[charnelhouse]

press the gas and ride

gif by @riley-keoughs pairing: Joel Miller x f!Reader (nicknamed Dolly) word count: 2.4k+ summary: comfort in a car warnings: hurt/comfort. smut. angst. A/N: this takes place a month after teacups, but no need to read. tlou ep 3 spoilers. this is really just trash smut. Joel Miller Masterlist

She watched Joel's expression buckle as he read the letter. His brow furrowed, the muscle in his jaw tensing. She looked away, suddenly feeling intrusive. She'd never come here with Joel. His trips to Bill were semi-frequent, but this was the first time he’d brought her. Of course, he hadn't expected this. He hadn't thought they'd be walking into a dead house. 

The fresh air through the open front door bullied the stench of rotten meat and vegetables. The dinner on the table buzzed with flies. There were starched, ironed napkins folded in triangles with lovely patterns of woodland creatures. She traced the tiny squirrel sewed into the fabric before studying the label on the wine bottle. She was intent on busying herself. She wanted to give Joel space, but he'd been more paranoid than usual since the attack a month ago. 

I don't want you out of my sight.

She hadn't stopped aching. Brutal. Horrible. She'd slaughtered two people, and her mind continued to spin with the memories of it. She was unable to remove the taste of blood from her tongue. She could not unhear the shuddering death rattle or unfeel the way the man beneath her had wriggled and then spasmed like an electrocuted rodent.  

Joel had also seemingly lost his cool that night. After he'd tucked her into bed, she'd heard him smashing up the first floor. In the morning, he'd refused to let her see what he had done and when she fell apart again (in the safety of their QZ apartment), Joel wouldn't have it.

He'd crouched so they could be eye-level, large hand cupping the back of her skull. "They got what they deserved. Nothin' more than that."

He was right, but teaching her head to stop was easier said than done. 

She scanned the dining room before settling on the mahogany cabinet full of delicate china. When she noticed the powder blue and white teacups, she winced. She couldn't escape it. Everything triggered her. She needed to learn to grow up and out of her pain because it wouldn't serve her and certainly not Joel. He bulldozed through everything, and she had to follow suit. 

Joel cleared his throat. He had stopped reading and was staring out the window, far away. She intended to bring him back to shore. 

"They have a car?" she asked, and Joel's eyes swept toward her. Inscrutable. 

"Yeah." He scraped a hand over his mouth. "Yeah."

***

Joel guided her to a guest room, instructing her to clean up and be ready in an hour.

He'd found her a box of women's clothes that she happily dug through. The very idea of new outfits felt celebratory- even if they smelled a bit stale.

The musty fabric reminded her of her grandmother's closets. She'd used to hide behind the wool coats and leather shoes, toes snug in the sea-green carpet. She'd get light-headed on mothballs. 

Her family was gone. A long time gone.

She supposed Joel was the only person who really gave a shit about her well-being. If she died, he’d have the memory of her, at least. She wouldn’t be dust.

After she showered, she yanked on a sundress and sneakers. Joel would undoubtedly say something, but she was past caring. She stared at herself in the mirror, petting the floral-print bodice. She twisted side to side, the breeze from the open window licking between her legs and under her arms. 

She thought of Bill and Frank in the next room and abruptly stopped. Morbid. Strange to be so fine rummaging through a house when two dead men were feet away. Their window was open, too, and she wondered if the sweet brush of cool air had cradled them into the next life. She stepped forward, pressing her ear against the wood. She listened, tapping her fingertips over the wallpaper. 

Silence. She tapped again. Waiting.

"What are you doing?"

She whirled around to find Joel standing in the doorway with a towel around his waist. He'd combed his wet hair back, but a single strand boyishly drifted over his forehead. The scars across his torso gleamed white under the naked afternoon sun.

"Nothing." She shifted her weight, the dress swishing with her. 

He frowned as he scrutinized her outfit. "You can't wear that."

"Because?"

"Because you can't do shit in a dress that short," he replied flatly. 

She put her hands on her hips. "Can I just wear this today? It's-fuck-it's the prettiest thing I've worn since-since I don't know." She averted her eyes, feeling childish at her reasoning.

Because I want to be beautiful for once. I want to look beautiful for you and not covered in grime, blood, and jeans, two sizes too big. 

The expression on Joel's face flickered between irritated and puzzled. She thought he might stride across the room and tear it off her. 

Once in a while, he'd give her shit about things like this-pecking at her for enjoying luxuries that didn't exist anymore. He'd call her a spoiled brat when he really wanted to tick her off. Instinctively, she knew he was doing it, so she'd snap at him, deal him back with a rough hand. 

He always won and she assumed he’d win here, as well.

She expected him to say no, but he took a breath instead. Running his hand across his chest, he massaged an old bullet wound hidden in the sparse hair before turning back into the hall. White flag. 

Then, his voice pitched so low it grazed the floor. "Fine."

***

The letter must have softened him. Repeatedly punched him until he was a tender, pliant piece of meat. He hadn't even twitched when she snatched two guns too massive for her off the basement wall or smuggled a box of wine into the car.

His hands scraped over the steering wheel when he slid into the front seat. He stared blankly at the dash and then the manicured driveway. The grass was just beginning to creep away from the lawn, encroaching onto the asphalt. 

She wasn't sure how to deal with this. He usually seemed to take death in stride. His grief was like a chalky, oversized pill, but he swallowed it nonetheless. He'd made it clear that he didn't even like Bill yet...

"I'm sorry," she offered.

"Take your feet off the dash," he ordered stiffly.

She scowled but did as she was told, figuring she didn't need to push Joel Miller’s buttons again today. She settled into her seat, hands prim in her lap as she waited for him to begin driving.

He didn't. 

He continued to sit silently, seemingly unable to turn the car on. The hand around the steering wheel tightened, his scabbed knuckles flexing and paling beneath the windshield. His nostrils flared, and she suddenly knew:

He was going to crack. He was going to burst down the middle, and he needed her. 

Abruptly, she crawled over the console, gripping him by the lapels of his button-up to balance her weight. The fresh clothes looked good on him-the plaid green shirt fit his broad frame like a glove. She nearly toppled into the door before he grasped her wrist roughly. “What are you-"

"Shh," she murmured, straddling his lap. He stared at her. 

Joel wore his grief in the creases of his face. His pain. His anger. He was beautiful to her. Sexy in a way that couldn't be understood. Older, too. Older than any man she'd ever had before, but it wasn't like she'd had that many men, to begin with. 

"I'm here," she whispered, her thighs squeezing around his own. His mouth parted, exhaling. 

She wondered what undercurrents ran beneath his skin-his armor. What did he think about? How did he see her? 

She lifted herself onto her knees, and Joel's hands automatically seized her hips. Unbuttoning his jeans, she tugged the zipper down, and his eyes found hers. Good. Coyly, she licked her palm before gripping his half-hard cock. She stroked him slow, glancing down to watch the blush-red head disappear in the circle of her fist. He shuddered, hips lifting a few inches off the leather seat. 

She intended to be fast about this. Pleasurable consolation was a language she knew Joel understood. 

“I’m going to fuck you,” she said and he shivered under her touch. He remained silent as the grave though his eyes never left hers. Perhaps, he was struck dumb by her forwardness.

She clutched his shoulder as she braced herself before sinking down and guiding him into the heat of her cunt. She'd worn the sun dress for a reason. 

Joel made a gritty, strangled noise as she took him to the hilt, lowering herself until his thighs were flush with her ass. The band of his jeans grazed her skin, the metal of the zipper catching flesh. His nostrils flared as she tightened, walls spasming because he was always a little too big. 

Wordlessly, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, forcing his face against her chest. He sighed deeply as she rocked forward, his fingers biting into her waist. It could hardly be called a fuck, just her grinding down and him pushing his cock upward until he couldn't claim another centimeter. 

She cradled the back of his skull, rooting her nose around his damp hair that smelled like clover and a scent she recalled from before - something generic and artificial like Irish Spring. 

Finding leverage was proving difficult, but she did her best. She rose up, keeping him halfway inside her before sliding down. Repeat. In her defense, she’d never fucked anyone in a car before.

One of her hands snuck out the open window to grasp the top of the car. It was dusty, and she had this ridiculous worry that maybe someone would crawl into the garage and bite her hand. She ripped it back to cup the side of Joel's face instead. His mouth twitched, his lids heavy like he was drunk and dazed. He didn't even care she had smeared old car dust into his beard. He'd have to shower again. She would, too, and she wanted to laugh at the strange coincidence of paving new roads in their relationship through hot showers. After all, he'd wrenched her away from a panic attack in that house outside Boston. He'd held her in the shower, mouth brushing her ear.

"You did a hell of a job."

"You did so fuckin' well, sweetheart."

She swelled from the memory of Joel's praise. She wanted to pay him back.

"I've got you," she murmured against his temple, nails tracing a line across his scalp through his thick damp grays. "I've got you, Joel."

He nodded-or she thought he did. His gestures were always so vague. Sometimes he'd hold her down and fuck her brains out while telling her how much he wanted to kill her for being stupid and acting recklessly. It would then always end with him possessively clutching her body to his.

You send mixed signals, Joel. 

What?

You said you wanted to kill me, and now you won't let me go.

I never said that. 

She felt him twitch inside her, his mouth dragging across her clavicle before he abruptly shoved the top of her dress down and latched to her nipple. He sucked it, tongue darting over the nub and causing her pussy to clench around his length.

"Sweetheart," he mumbled. 

"I know," she said. 

Their grief sat between them - a weight strung about their ankles, dragging them down to the deepest parts of whatever was left. She knew blips of his pain as he knew hers. He comforted her in the ways he understood, not necessarily with words but with actions. She could do that for him now, remind him that he had her.

She rolled her hips, and he groaned, his breath puffing against her sternum. She snagged him tighter and dug her grip into his skin like she was holding fast to a rock in a riptide. The car was so small, the steering wheel bumping against her lower back, and you could hear everything.

The rustle of fabric. The squelch of her sex and slap of skin. 

Finally, Joel planted his feet and began to drive up into her. Short, fast strokes that hit just right. It almost hurt. It gave her a belly ache, but everything else fell away. The car filled with his low, subdued grunts and her whimpers. 

He secured his arms around her waist, one hand sneaking to the base of her scalp to embed his thumb into the muscle beneath her ear. They were tangled in such a way that it would have looked like anything - they could be devouring each other, feasting on the other's throats as they fucked fast and sad.

Somewhere along the way, Joel tilted his head and demanded her mouth.

He kissed her fiercely, tongue hot and aggressive as it wrestled with hers. Exploring. "Baby," he sighed against her slippery teeth. "Fuck."

Joel, her man of few words, but just the right ones. She still didn't call him anything but his name. Nothing else fit him.

"Shit," she gasped as he delivered a harsh thrust. Stay with me. Stay focused.

Her climax paraded around her belly, kicking up dirt and shouting out toward a faceless crowd. It was turning in circles, unable to find the finish line. He was screwing her tectonic plate deep, but the friction wasn't enough for her to get off. It didn't matter. This was about him. Not her. 

He gripped her hip and shoved her down before spearing up, grinding in slow, determined circles. He left her mouth to find her throat, sucking methodically at her pulse. 

It didn't take too long after that. He grumbled something into her jaw (maybe, Dolly) before his hips stuttered beneath her. She felt him fill her, warmth blooming outward. She'd have to deal with that, but for now, she worshiped him. He lifted his face, flushed from exertion - golden, bright, and devastating as his dark eyes searched hers.

“You’re good,” she praised, pressing her lips to his chin.

When she crawled off his lap, she was sticky between her legs. He huffed, tugging at the edge of her dress as if trying to hide her modesty. 

No one's around here, Joel.

No one. It's you, and it's me. It's us. 

She was sore as fuck, like she'd been smacked in the crotch. Her orgasm was lost somewhere, hanging by a few threads, but she didn't want it. Instead, she craved the longing-the lingering frustration of her missed pleasure. She brushed her hair out of her face and smoothed her dress.

"That was-"

She was hauled back over to him. Their brows bumped, noses jamming together before Joel kissed her hard. When he finally pulled away, he asked, "You feel safe with me?"

"What kind of question-

"You feel safe with me?" he urged, hands seizing her cheeks. She wondered if it had something to do with what had happened at that house a month ago. The teacup house. Or was this because of what had been written in that letter beyond Bill and Frank's goodbyes?

She felt that if she probed, he would splinter. It wasn't her business. She told him the truth. 

Smiling, she placed her hand over his. "Yes," she assured him. "I always feel safe with you."

Joel took a breath, nodding once, before pulling away. He stabbed the keys into the ignition, twisting them north, and the car rumbled to life.

When they left the garage, she watched the walls creep over him again. 

[berryhobii]

✩ 🎀 𝒦𝐸𝒴 🎀 ✩

SMUT-♢ FLUFF-❀ ANGST-☂

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗡𝗔𝗠𝗝𝗢𝗢𝗡

🎀🎀🎀

【ＯＮＥ　ＳＨＯＴＳ】

[ᴍʏ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ] ❀♢

♡Namjoon was your person, as you were his♡

【ＦＩＣＳ】

Nothing yet....

【ＡＳＫＳ／ＤＲＡＢＢＬＥＳ】

[ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇ] ᴍʏ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ ᴄᴏᴜᴘʟᴇ♢

♡My Person's couple first time♡

[ᴘᴜʀᴇ]♢

♡You were pure. Ha, he could change that♡

[ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ᴡᴇɪɢʜᴛ]❀♢

♡Namjoon's noticed something different about you♡

[ꜰɪʀᴇ ʙᴜʀɴɪɴɢ]❀♢

♡Life with your firefighter husband♡

[ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜꜱ]❀♢

♡A stranger gets a little too close to your husband. He shows you exactly who he belongs to♡

[ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴍɪɴᴇ]♢

♡You're his. No one else's♡

[ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ ᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴡᴇʀᴇᴡᴏʟꜰ ʙꜰ]

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗞𝗝𝗜𝗡

🎀🎀🎀

【ＯＮＥ　ＳＨＯＴＳ】

[ʙᴀʙʏ ɢɪʀʟ]❀♢

♡Seokjin spoiled you rotten but how could he not when you were his baby girl?♡

[ʙᴀʙʏ ɢɪʀʟ:ꜱʜᴏᴡ ᴏᴜᴛ]♢

♡You parade through your sugar daddy's building like you own it and his employees hate it. Time to show out♡

[ɢᴀᴍᴇꜱ]❀♢

♡Your boyfriend isn’t giving you attention, too focused on his stupid computer game so you take matters into your own hands♡

【ＦＩＣＳ】

Nothing yet....

【ＡＳＫＳ／ＤＲＡＢＢＬＥＳ】

Nothing yet....

𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚 𝗛𝗢𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗞

🎀🎀🎀

【ＯＮＥ　ＳＨＯＴＳ】

[ᴄʟᴀꜱꜱ ɪɴ ꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴ]❀♢

♡Hoseok was excited to hear about a new teacher at the community center. He wondered what kind of person you’d be, what kind of class you’d teach. He also wondered what the hell you were doing on stage at a strip club♡

[ᴄʟᴀꜱꜱ ɪɴ ꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴ ᴘᴀʀᴛ 2]♢

♡Hoseok visits your place for the first time and finds something he never expected♡

[ᴄʟᴏᴜᴅꜱ]ꜱᴏᴜʟᴍᴀᴛᴇ ᴀᴜ❀☂

♡Clouds drifted overhead, rain pouring over the monochrome colors of your life. Then the sun parted those clouds, showing you a rainbow♡

[ᴅᴇꜱꜱᴇʀᴛ]♢

♡You and Hoseok try something new♡

【ＦＩＣＳ】

[ᴋᴀʀᴍᴀ]ᴍᴀꜰɪᴀ ᴀᴜ❀♢☂

♡When a looming danger threatens the people you love, you have to come out of hiding and step back into your place as The Whisper; the deadliest assassin known to man. Taking people’s lives were easy, loving Hoseok was even easier, and having to face him once again after leaving would prove to be the toughest challenge of your life♡

ᴘʀᴏʟᴏɢᴜᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 1 ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 2

【ＡＳＫＳ／ＤＲＡＢＢＬＥＳ】

[ʜɪᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʙʀᴀᴋᴇꜱ]ꜱᴛʀᴇᴇᴛ ʀᴀᴄᴇʀ ᴀᴜ

♡Hoseok's pride as a racer depended on this race but his true pride and joy would always be there on their knees to release the tension♡

[ɪ'ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ᴅᴏɴᴇ]♢

♡Hoseok's not done with you. Far from it♡

𝗠𝗜𝗡 𝗬𝗢𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗜

🎀🎀🎀

【ＯＮＥ　ＳＨＯＴＳ】

[ʀᴇᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛ]❀♢

♡Yoongi’s been so busy lately and you two haven’t been spending much time together. You bring him some dinner and reconnect on a deeper level. Verrryyyyyy deep♡

[ꜱɪʟᴇɴᴛ ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ]❀♢

♡You give Yoongi the silent treatment. That doesn't bode over well♡

【ＦＩＣＳ】

Nothing yet....

【ＡＳＫＳ／ＤＲＡＢＢＬＥＳ】

[ᴅʀᴇꜱꜱɪɴɢ ʀᴏᴏᴍ]♢

♡Shenanigans in the dressing room♡

[ᴍᴏᴏɴʙᴇᴀᴍꜱ]ᴍᴇʀᴍᴀɪᴅ ᴀᴜ☂

♡Every night you return to the water and every night you remember why you left. But you could never forget the sparkle of his eyes reflected in the beams of the moon♡

[ᴏᴠᴇʀᴡʜᴇʟᴍᴇᴅ]❀☂

♡Your day has been going horribly. Your fiancé helps you come down to earth♡

[ɪ ꜱᴡᴇᴀʀ]❀♢

♡Yoongi swore he’d finish before lunch time♡

[ɢᴇᴛ ʙᴀᴄᴋ]ꜱɪʟᴇɴᴛ ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴄᴏᴜᴘʟᴇ♢

♡Yoongi gets his get back♡

[ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴅɪꜱᴛᴜʀʙ]♢

♡You really need to remember to keep your phone on silent♡

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗜𝗠𝗜𝗡

🎀🎀🎀

【ＯＮＥ　ＳＨＯＴＳ】

[ᴅᴏᴡɴ ʙᴀᴅ]❀♢☂

♡ Rule 1: Never go over the woman’s house Rule 2: Never sleep over Rule 3: Never sleep with the same person twice These 3 rules are what Jimin lived by but then you came along and he was ready to break all of them♡

ᴘᴀʀᴛ 1 ᴘᴀʀᴛ 2 ᴘᴀʀᴛ 3

[ʜᴜʀʀʏ ʜᴏᴍᴇ]❀♢

♡You send Jimin some naughty videos during his night with the boys♡

[ᴏɴᴇ ᴍᴀʀɢᴀʀɪᴛᴀ]❀♢

♡Give me one margarita, Imma open my legs♡

【ＦＩＣＳ】

[ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴅ]ɢʀᴇᴇᴋ ᴍʏᴛʜᴏʟᴏɢʏ ᴀᴜ❀♢☂

♡You were his oasis where the water never ran dry. He was the garden where blooms shone like diamonds. His lips were of the sweetest ambrosia that made you forget your sour past, your embrace a blanket that shielded him from the nightmare that was his life. Your souls were safe in the hands of one another. Nothing could ever separate you, the daisy chain you’ve woven entwining your fate and destinies until the end of time♡

ᴘʀᴏʟᴏᴜɢᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 1 ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 2 ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 3

【ＡＳＫＳ／ＤＲＡＢＢＬＥＳ】

[ᴘᴏᴏʟ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ]❀♢

♡After a pool party at your friend’s house, you and Jimin go home for some private time♡

[ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢ]❀♢

♡Jimin has a few favorite things about you♡

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗧𝗔𝗘𝗛𝗬𝗨𝗡𝗚

🎀🎀🎀

【ＯＮＥ　ＳＨＯＴＳ】

Nothing yet...

【ＦＩＣＳ】

Nothing yet...

【ＡＳＫＳ／ＤＲＡＢＢＬＥＳ】

[ᴅɪꜱᴛʀᴀᴄᴛᴇᴅ ᴅʀɪᴠᴇʀ]♢

♡Taehyung needs to keep his eyes on the road♡

[ᴍᴏʀᴇ]ᴅɪꜱᴛʀᴀᴄᴛᴇᴅ ᴅʀɪᴠᴇʀ ᴄᴏᴜᴘʟᴇ♢

♡It's never enough. You want more♡

𝗝𝗘𝗢𝗡 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗞𝗢𝗢𝗞

🎀🎀🎀

【ＯＮＥ　ＳＨＯＴＳ】

[ʟᴀᴛᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴡᴏʀᴋ]❀♢

♡Jungkook wakes you up and sends you off to work all hot bothered. Just wait until you get home!♡

[ʟᴀᴛᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴡᴏʀᴋ:ᴄʟᴏᴄᴋᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ]❀♢

♡You’ve clocked out. It’s time to go home♡

【ＦＩＣＳ】

Nothing yet...

【ＡＳＫＳ／ＤＲＡＢＢＬＥＳ】

[ᴄᴀɴᴅʏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ]ʟꜰᴡ ᴄᴏᴜᴘʟᴇ❀

♡How the LFW couple met♡

[ɴᴏ ɴᴜᴛ ɴᴏᴠᴇᴍʙᴇʀ]ʟꜰᴡ ᴄᴏᴜᴘʟᴇ❀♢

♡The LFW couple attempt No Nut November. Game on♡

[ᴜɴᴀᴡᴀʀᴇ]ʟꜰᴡ ᴄᴏᴜᴘʟᴇ❀♢

♡You hardly pay much attention whenever you’re with Jungkook. He does though♡

[ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛɪᴍᴇ]ʟꜰᴡ ᴄᴏᴜᴘʟᴇ❀♢☂

♡Jungkook would be there whenever insecurity came to haunt you. Every time♡

[ɢʏᴍ ꜰɪᴛ]ʟꜰᴡ ᴄᴏᴜᴘʟᴇ❀♢

♡Working out with your husband is great motivation♡

[ᴍᴏᴏᴅ ꜱᴡɪɴɢꜱ]❀

♡Jungkook’s grown used to your mood swings♡

[ʙɪᴋɪɴɪ ʙᴏᴅʏ]❀♢

♡You show off some of your new bikini's to Jungkook♡

𝗢𝗧𝟳

🎀🎀🎀

【ＯＮＥ　ＳＨＯＴＳ】

[7 ᴅɪꜰꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴛ ꜱʜᴇᴇᴛꜱ]♢

♡You had 7 fuck buddies. Just how did you fit them all into your schedule?♡

【ＦＩＣＳ】

Nothing yet...

【ＡＳＫＳ／ＤＲＡＢＢＬＥＳ】

Nothing yet...

Ⓒ— My works are copyrighted and belong to me! No translations please!

[proposalanonaita]

FINE.

The date is fast approaching (seven and a half weeks left), I've had sufficient quantities of Malbec, and I'm realizing that whoever suggested that writing my vows would be MUCH more harrowing than talking about my feelings to internet nobodies.....had a fair point; I should at least attempt to put it all to words before I write the real drafts.

Ugh.

I should probably start by stating that I'm WELL aware of who I am. Rest assured, I know that I'm stunningly abrasive. And controlling. And petty, conniving, misanthropic, or whatever other adjectives you've been calling me in the tags (yes, I DID read those, and it IS weird of so many of you to be calling for my divorce. I thought you were supposed to be nicer than I am?).

All this to say, I've always been cognizant of being an acquired taste. Partly because I've always BEEN an acquired taste. I tone it down in public, and in most of my personal relationships, but I am, down to my core, a Mean Mother Fucker.

With partners before my fiancé, I had to make myself more palatable to stay together. The men I dated were FAR too nice, and snipping with them at all felt like I was a heavyweight champion facing off against a toddler. So I reigned it in. It worked, but no matter how well things were going on paper, I didn't feel like I was myself with any of them.

I was even less myself with The Shithead. I'm NOT getting into the entirety of that particular tire fire here, you little freaks already know FAR too much about me and I won't have you tagging the gory details of the worst part of my life with #bob the builder/fuzzy wuzzy or whatever you're into.

He was horrible to me, I turned dangerously timid, I'm lucky I had enough Mean left in me to get the fuck out. He's changed enough by now that I considered inviting him to the wedding, it was bad enough back then I'm very glad I didn't. Enough said.

...I'm talking quite a bit up here because I still hate having to say any of the next part. Call me an emotionless villain for that if you want to, I am far too employed and 30 to care very much.

Ugh, ugh, ugh.

So.

The thing is, there are people that KNOW me, and there are people who LIKE me. My parents know me, and I've never doubted they love me, but that's not LIKING me as a person. That's a contractual obligation of birthing me. My friends like me, some even like me when I'm catty, but I need to be careful to hold myself back, at the risk of losing them. At best, people loved "me", not ME.

For decades, this was just the way the world was. It was a fact of life- The sky is blue, I'm secretly unlovable, the Earth goes around the sun.

And then, against all odds, I found my fiancé, who manages to do both.

He sees ALL of me. Every square inch, every fleeting thought, every horrible little quirk of my rotten personality. And THEN, as if that weren't bad enough, he turns around and ENJOYS it all. He's not just tolerant of my least palatable traits, he's delighted. The more I show him, the more he likes.

It's awful. I'd say he stole my heart, but that sounds too pleasant. It's more like my heart is a cockroach he could squish at any moment, and I trust him not to, and I'm just supposed to wake up every morning and do the dishes and go to work as if this doesn't mean we're clearly orbiting Saturn. The sky is PURPLE now. What the fuck.

He could at least do me the favor of being completely, 100% perfect, because then I could blame his total lapse in judgement on that, but NO. He's a BASTARD.

I'm engaged to a big sweaty idiot who annoys me on purpose. He's terrible with his money. He tries to take me on HIKES, and JOGS, and CAMPING TRIPS. His taste in every single art form known to man is GARBAGE, he's constantly leaving his dirty socks on the floor, and he's such a bad driver I'm amazed he still has a license.

I've told him all of that to his face, and I've MEANT it, and he's just called me a bitch and asked me what I want for dinner. He knows that I'm unlovable, agrees that all those parts of me are in here, and then loves me anyway.

He loves me. He LOVES me. He loves ME.

I don't know what I'm meant to do with it all, but there's clearly SOMETHING wrong with his brain, so I guess I'll have to keep him, if only for his sake.