#noah kahan 4k

[4knoah]

UHD | Noah Kahan, Extra Innings Festival at Tempe Beach & Arts Park, March '24

[peony-always]

Dial Drunk

wolverine/logan howlett x afab!reader

words - 4k

tags: dp&w!Logan, damsel(ish)!reader, angst angst angst (he has so much potential as a sad wet tomcat), feelings (Logan isn't good at them), use of alcohol, canon-typical violence, !attempted assault!, implied assault

quick an: this is my first full fic!! the ghost of Logan's past hovered over my shoulder as I wrote this, loosely based on Dial Drunk by Noah Kahan but it's more of just an inspiration border creds to @/bunnysrph

Logan was pissed. Furious. He was so overwhelmingly angry with himself that his claws had extended and for a while, he couldn’t retract them. He finally got them to slide back under his skin when the cop standing outside his holding cell door threatened to put him in with the general population if he didn’t put his ‘weapons’ away.

That was the last thing he needed right now. He was already on edge, and being surrounded by people who hated him just for who he was would probably be his last straw. He sighed, slumping back against the dirty concrete wall behind him. He rubbed his temples, taking a few deep breaths to calm his once again rising anger.

He understood why he was in that stupid cell. Bar fights were enough to get a normal person arrested for being drunk and disorderly, but cops were always especially ready to arrest a mutant. He hated that he had let his animalistic side get him here, proving them right about how dangerous he was, but he could only take so much of that stupid guy in the booth behind him spewing ant-mutant hatred right in his face.

“Damn liquor,” Logan thought to himself as his head continued to throb. That in and of itself was enough to make him upset, as he was typically so well acquainted with alcohol that it never got to him. Tonight, however, he had drunk way more than usual, throwing back shots in the dingy bar a few blocks from his apartment as quickly as the bartender could pour them up.

The idiotic man he had beaten at the bar wasn’t the true cause of his anger though. That honor fell to his stupid, stupid brain. It was after the cops had wrangled him and shoved him into their stuffy, too-small cruiser that Logan had made his infuriating error.

The driving officer, a short and stocky man with a pudgy face, had looked back at him from the rearview mirror and said,” The guy you were fightin’, George, he ain’t gonna press charges on ya. He’s in and outta the lockup every other week, and he ain’t gonna be lookin’ for any more trouble than he’s already in. Plus, I think you’re more of a danger to yourself than to anybody else, goin’ around that drunk. You ain’t caused any trouble before, but we still gotta bring you in. Procedure, ya know. Got anybody you want us to call to pick ya up?”

Logan hadn’t even thought about it before your name came spilling from his lips. He hadn’t even realized what he said until they arrived at the jail and the pudgy cop pulled him from the back seat. “Her? Really?” the cop said, suspicion heavy in his voice. “She babysits my kids on the weekends, didn’t know she associated with drunk fighters like you.”

Logan snarled on instinct as he heard the inherent prejudice in the cop's voice before he realized who the cop was talking about. ‘No,’, he thought. ‘God, no.’ He hadn’t seen you in months, and he hadn’t been planning on seeing you ever again. He didn’t know why he didn’t tell the cop he wanted to change his call. He could have gotten him to phone Wade or Laura, they would have picked him up in a heartbeat. 

Maybe he didn’t say anything because he wanted to see you, to make sure you were okay after the long months you had spent apart. Or maybe he was just still drunk, forgetting the past and wanting you to take him home with you, to let him have his seat on the couch while he sobered up, drinking your fruity teas and eating the sickeningly sweet cookies you always bought from the local bakery. “Too much sugar and you’ll rot your teeth out,” he’d tell you with a lopsided smile, knowing how you’d respond. Every time he said it you’d prance up to him and poke a finger into his chest, grinning,” You’re already so sweet that my teeth ache, so what does more sugar hurt?” And then you’d lean up, pecking him on the lips as you move to go back to your tasks. 

His heart ached as that memory resurfaced and his head fell to join his back against the unforgiving chill of the cell wall. He tried to fight it (no he didn’t), but his drink-addled brain was unable to stop the memories of you from flooding back into his system.

Your first meeting, a year ago that felt more like ten since you had left. Logan had been stalking his way down the street, huffing and puffing, pissed at Wade for inviting people over and blaring music when he had known that day was Logan’s only day off for two weeks. He had grabbed his jacket and stormed out into the chilly New York evening, turning left outside their apartment as he made his way toward the nearest bar. He craved a stiff drink, damn Wade and Laura had hidden all of the alcohol in the house from him. They told him he needed to dry out, and he did. He knew it as well as everyone else, but it was hard. After years of drowning his guilt and grief in drink, it made him nervous to let go, to face his days head-on instead of looking at them from the syrupy brown lens of his old friend whiskey.

It was on his way to the bar that he heard it. A muffled cry, the sound of flesh hitting concrete, a grunt of pain. He took off in the direction of the sound, his hyper-sensitive nose smelling the fear lacing the air the closer he got to a dingy alley two streets over. As he rounded the corner, he saw you. Your hands were bound behind your back and there was a gag stuffed in your mouth. Your eyes pled with Logan to save you as your attacker dragged you across the ground, mumbling and lurching back and forth as he pulled you along,” Stupid fuckin’ whore. Women. Always gettin’ in the way of what I deserve. Maybe I’ll put you in the dumpster when I’m done with you, let you rot with the flies.” 

Logan’s nostrils flared as he surged forward, yanking your leg from the man’s grip and pushing you further away as your attacker spun to face him. “What the-” was all the scumbag got out before Logan clocked him, knocking him out with one punch. He really wanted to keep beating on the guy, but his enhanced hearing had him turning toward you as you shuddered, whimpers escaping the gag as tears rolled down your face.

He held his hands up, approaching slowly and kneeling on the dirty ground in front of you and gently pulling the gag from your mouth as you squeezed your eyes shut. You let out shuddering sobs as he reached around you to loosen your bindings, careful not to touch you more than he had to. He had experienced more than his fair share of trauma, and he knew how hard it could be to have someone be so close to you when you were going through it, so he made sure to lean back as soon as he had freed you.

However, you immediately proved his assumption wrong. You slumped down against him, your hands fisting his t-shirt as you sniffled and coughed. “Thank-thank you.” you stuttered as you tried to calm yourself. “Thank you so, so much.” Logan tentatively reached around you to pat your back,” You’re welcome, bub. Just doin’ what needed to be done.” As his hand tapped out a soothing beat against your back, you felt yourself begin to come down from the adrenaline rush of almost being kidnapped. You thought back to the man’s ugly words, sniffling again as you whispered, “He was going to kill me.”

Logan bristled immediately, his hand coming to a halt on your back. “Never would have let that happen, ya hear me. I’d have heard ya from a mile away,” he grunted and gently stood to his feet, pulling you up with him. 

“You live close?” he asked.

“Yes,” you replied. “Just down the street.”

He finally got a good look at you, and by God were you pretty. Even with bits of gravel leaving red divots in your cheeks and your eyes watery with tears, you were among the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. He shook himself out of his daze as you took a deep breath and started walking shakily down the street. He tried to stay close but not too close as you walked, following behind you and scenting the air for any more threats. He sure as hell didn’t want to put you through anything else tonight.

The two of you walked in silence until you finally stopped, turning to face Logan as you stood outside the lobby door of your apartment complex. You managed a slight smile as you looked up at him, “I’m sorry that I’m not inviting you in,” you said. “It’s just that this evening has been hellish and I’d like to be alone.”

Logan shook his head, stepping back, “No, no, I understand, I’ll be-”. You cut him off,” Come tomorrow around noon. I’ll treat you to coffee for saving me.” You said this forcefully, almost demanding him to do as you said. It shocked Logan, and a small smile made it’s way onto his lips. “Yes, ma’am.” You thanked him one more time and headed into your building, leaving Logan standing outside, staring at the doors, more curious about you than he had been about anyone in a good long while. 

He did show up the next day, letting you take him to a quaint cafe and buy him a coffee, plain black, which you teased him for. You spent what felt like hours asking him questions and telling him about yourself, and it felt so right, so natural for both of you. Just being there with you was enough to take Logan’s mind off of the things that haunted him, solely focused on your beautiful face and animated expression.

When you realized you had been yapping at this near-stranger for almost 3 hours, you figured it was time to go, gathering your trash and standing up, blush heating up your cheeks. “Thank you again,” you said. “For saving me last night and for letting me talk your ear off today.” Logan flashed you a small smile, tilting his head slightly, “How about the same time tomorrow then? My treat.”

He watched your face light up and thought to himself that he’d go broke buying you coffee if you’d just keep looking at him that way. You quickly agreed, telling him that you’d definitely be there if he wouldn’t mind you being a little late, as work was a little further than your apartment. 

And so it began, the two of you had gotten closer and closer, until a random Tuesday when you blurted out that you wanted to be his girlfriend, if he’d have you. After teasing you about your blush, he of course agreed, claiming that you had been his girlfriend for weeks and you had just noticed. 

You brought him around to your place, where you cooked with him, watched all your favorite movies, and made love. He brought you around to his place, too. You met Wade and Al, which prompted the discussion about his mutation and history. You took everything in stride, reassuring Logan that his past changed nothing, that you were still his if he was still yours. He found a job at a local community college, taking training classes and becoming one of the campus security officers. He quit drinking so much, instead relying on your perfectly brewed cups of coffee to get him through the day, only having a drink or two after work if you were feeling like it.

Logan had never been happier. It was like you were made for him. He took care of you and in turn, you soothed his battered soul. No one had ever touched him with the tenderness that you did, no one ever made him feel as good as you. His existence had become pure bliss and he felt he finally had a purpose again. 

Your lives went on this way for a year and three months, until, just like with every other good thing he had ever had, he ruined it. 

Logan had come to your place before you got off work, aiming to surprise you with dinner after you had complained of a particularly hard week. He had just stepped through the door when he stopped cold, smelling that someone was here, or had been here recently. It wasn’t a scent he recognized, and he prowled through the apartment, checking every room thoroughly for an intruder. When he found no one, he made his way back to the kitchen, still uneasy.

It was there that he saw the papers on the counter, one neat little stack that would change his life. He moved the blank paper on top and a chill shot up his spine. It was a photo of you, taken when he was sure you thought no one was watching. It showed you through the window of your apartment, a soft smile on your face as you put on a coat over your work uniform. He could even make out the locket around your neck that he had given you for your anniversary. 

He moved on to the next pages, letters detailing your entire life, down to how much your water bill had been that month. 

It was the second to last page that sealed his fate, his name next to a summons, a set of coordinates he was to come to or they would kill you. He quickly thought to himself that he could protect you from anyone who tried to hurt you, then immediately realized that that wasn’t the kind of life he had wanted to give you, always on the run and afraid for your life. No, he would have to end things with you and go take care of this mess himself. It broke him to think of hurting you in the way that he would be required to. You were so resilient, so passionate, and stubborn when it came to him. He would have to destroy all of that to get you to leave him alone.

And so, he sat down in the living room and waited, tucking the papers into his jacket so you wouldn’t see them. Dread filled his bones, dragging him down into the couch and he thought he might not make it out of your apartment alive.

It wasn’t much later when he heard the front door open, your lively humming filling his ears and making him feel so much worse. He stayed seated as you made your way through the apartment, shedding your bag and coat as you went.

“Oh, Lo! You scared me!” you said as you saw him, your hand going to your chest in mock shock. “What are you doing here before me?”

Logan swallowed and spoke, trying not to let his voice shake,”We need to talk.”

Your smile dropped instantly and you moved toward him, balking when he held a hand up to stop you. “Lo, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”

The look on your face was killing him, so he looked away as he spoke,”I want to break up.”

You sank down to your knees, squinting as you tried to get him to meet your eyes,” What? Lo, what happened? I promise we can figure it out together. You’ve just got to tell me what’s wro-”

“I cheated,” he said, cutting you off. “I don’t want to be with you anymore. I want to be with her.” As soon as he said it, he knew if he could just convince you that he had really broken your trust that way, you’d be done with him.

You laughed slightly, awkwardly,” Logan, that’s not funny. You shouldn’t say things like that. Did I do something wrong or make you mad? I’m sorry for whatever I did, but you really shouldn’t lie.”

The look on your face was almost enough to break his resolve, but the need to protect you won out over his impending grief, “I’m not joking. I’m done with this relationship and I’m done with you. I've found something better.” He felt so wrong saying those words, knowing you feared that you weren’t good enough for him.

“Lo-Logan, please, we can work this out. I can do better, I can be better if you’ll just tell me what you need that I’m not giving you. Please.”

You reached out and grabbed his sleeve, your expression pleading. Logan felt his heart that you had mended shatter back into a million pieces, standing up and ripping his sleeve from your grasp.

“Are you stupid?” he asked, injecting as much venom into his voice as he could. “I said I don’t want you anymore. I don’t want you stupid food, or your stupid gifts, or your pathetic love. I’m done. Do you hear me? Get it through your thick skull and stay away from me. I never want to see you again.” He turned away from you as he walked toward the door, stomping over his heart on the way.

He shook you off again as you grabbed his pant leg, still on your knees on the floor. Your voice warbled as you begged.  “Logan, baby, please,” you cried. “I can change I swear. I can be whatever you need. Just please don’t leave me. You’re my whole life. You make me so happy. I can’t-I can’t do it without you. Please.”

He risked one glance back at you, telling himself he needed to see your face one more time to remind himself why he was leaving. The sight of you on the floor, tears pouring down your cheeks, was killing him. He should have known that he couldn’t have you, that something would force him to leave, but he had foolishly hoped that he could spite whatever higher power kept hurting him by keeping you.

“Don’t come around,” he spat with as much vitriol as he could muster. “I won’t contact you, and you don’t contact me. Let’s make this as easy for you as possible. Just forget I ever existed.”

He didn’t look back again, didn’t watch you weep as you began to mourn what you thought would be forever, knowing you could never stop loving him, even now that he hated you.

Logan groaned, leaning forward against his knees as he came back to himself, his heart aching as painfully as it had when he had lived it the first time. After he had left you, he had gone to the coordinates on the papers he had taken from the apartment. They led to a rural town in Quebec, a place he couldn’t remember but felt like he had been before. There, he met up with a gang of mutant hunters who believed that somehow the universe’s Logan had come back from the dead. They tried to kill him again and threatened him with more violence toward you if he didn’t die willingly. Fat chance. Logan was a newly hollow man and had no qualms about tracking and slaughtering every one of the mutant hunters so that his kind could live in a semblance of peace. 

He stayed up north for a while, squatting in an abandoned cabin and letting his instincts rule him. That was better than having his every waking thought be filled with how he had left you broken on your living room floor, believing that he had betrayed you.

Eventually, he went back to Vancouver. Somehow, his job let him come back, and Wade didn’t pester him with questions (probably because Logan had almost bitten his head off after he asked the second one).

He had considered going to your apartment now that the threat against you was handled, but he knew that as soon as he found happiness with you he’d have to leave again. It was for your own good, really. He wanted you to be happy, and you couldn’t be happy if Logan was constantly walking out on you.

So he went to work and started drinking heavily again, which had led him to the inside of a holding cell, coming to terms with the fact that he would be there all night.

As soon has he had laid down on the hard metal bench he had been sat on for hours, he heard footsteps approaching. He turned his head and watched the cop approach, fully expecting him to say that you had hung up as soon as you heard what they were asking of you. Maybe you hadn’t even answered and Logan would get another call. 

What he didn’t expect, however, was for the cop to swing the cell door open and grunt at him, motioning for him to get up. Logan quirked up a brow as he stood, “Is it chow or somethin’?” he asked. The cop chuckled, “You sure you’d rather eat the slop they serve here than leave with the pretty little lady that came to get you? She signed your papers, so you’re good to go. And please, don’t come back.”

Logan almost stumbled as he processed what the cop had said, his mind racing as he sniffed the air. 

You.

You were here, close. Your scent was so strong. Logan’s heart clenched. He truly believed he would never smell you again, the sweet musk of your skin paired with your perfume. He slowly turned, and there you were.

You were soaking wet, your hair drenched and your mascara slightly smudged, a jean jacket falling from your shoulders. Something was wrong, though. You were hunched over yourself, almost cowering in his presence. Your hands shook as you pulled your jacket further up your arms. Logan would have thought nothing of it and assumed you were just cold if you scent hadn’t changed. He could smell fear on you, a fear he hadn’t come into contact with since the night you met.

You turned and started walking toward the jailhouse door, glancing over your shoulder to make sure Logan was following you. He caught up to you in a couple strides, staying slightly behind you to give you your space. All he wanted was to reach out and touch you, to hold you in his arms again, but he resisted. On one hand, he was immensely grateful that you had come to get him. On the other hand, he felt so guilty that you had come to save someone who had broken your heart.

The two of you walked out into the rain, Logan still following you. You led him to a small car, one that you hadn’t had when he left you. He didn’t move as you rounded the car to get in, assuming he’d walk back to Wade’s from there.

“Get in, Logan,” you said quietly. 

He took a deep breath as he opened the passenger seat and got in, leaning forward so as to get as little water on your seats as possible. “Thank you,” he said. “Really, you didn’t have to come get me. I don’t even know why I gave them your name. I’ve just had too much to drink and-”

It was only then that you turned to face him, your face illuminated softly in the hazy light from the lamps lining the street. He scanned your face, his blood running cold as he saw your black eye and split lip, your eyes bright red with shed tears. “Logan,” you said, cutting him off. You took a deep, shaky breath, “We need to talk.”

[goodlucktai]

raised on little light (2/3)

rise of the tmnt word count: 4k pairing: mikey & oc big thank you to  @soldrawss for the art included in this chapter and to  @mykimouser for making me insane about neutral!michelangelo at all hours of the day title borrowed from northern attitude by noah kahan read on ao3

x

2031

Mikey is looking for his little brother. It seems like he spends half his life doing that these days. 

The TV is on in Splinter’s room, door ajar but equally as unapproachable as the door to Donnie’s lab, which is shut tight, as usual. Raph’s door is standing open, but his room is empty, because he leaves early for work on the weekdays. 

Mikey maneuvers past the closed doors and empty rooms like a professional. He doesn’t even have to think too hard about it anymore. 

Rounding the corner to the dining room, Mikey’s stride slows and relief punches an exhale out of him. He doesn’t realize how tense he is until he deflates like a balloon. 

Gio is asleep at the table, face half-buried in his folded arms, crossbow and maintenance supplies spread out in front of him. It’s disappointing, but not surprising. He rarely stays in his own room, as if he’s afraid of taking up space that isn’t really his. As if they’re going to change their mind and tell him they do still need it for storage, actually, and he wants to be ready when they do. Mikey’s pretty sure he never fully unpacked his bag. 

Sometimes he leaves the lair entirely, and since he’s the most unreliable texter Mikey knows, and has never met a phone call he would answer without a gun held to his head, he might as well fall completely off the grid each time he’s gone. Mikey stays up on those nights, keeping busy in the kitchen, worrying worrying worrying. 

He feels too much like Raph when he doesn’t know where the kid is. He understands intimately how overbearing big brothers could be, remembers how a tiny rift had formed between him and Raph when they were young because of it—childish and inconsequential in the grand scheme of things to come, but devastating at the time. 

So he tries to channel Leo instead, who had always trusted Mikey to know when to ask for help if he needed it. Tries to make sure Gio never feels like he can’t come home again, with a smile ready for him as soon as he slips silently back through the door. 

But last night Gio must have stayed in. There’s a blanket draped over him that Mikey didn’t put there, and Splinter almost certainly hadn’t left his room to put there, which leaves two possible culprits. Raph and Donnie don’t know how to make gestures that Gio can see for what they are, hardly know how to be in the same room as the kid without seeing a ghost superimposed where he’s standing. It leaves a lot of the emotional heavy-lifting on Mikey’s shoulders, but it’s fine. A brother could never be a burden to him. 

Mikey can’t give Gio everything he deserves to have, everything that should have been his from the very beginning, but he can give him some things. 

And we’ll start, Mikey thinks with the kind of absurd resilience that wouldn’t have been out of place at the actual end of the world, with breakfast. 

Gio wasn’t trained in ninja like the rest of them were but his senses are as sharp as any other turtle genetically modified for war. Mikey woke him up with a touch once and the fear response only lasted a handful of seconds but it was enough that Mikey made the executive decision that no one would ever do that again, or else. 

Mikey pulls a chair out beside the smaller turtle and sinks into it soundlessly. He traces the newly-familiar white spots on that smoky gray-green face with his eyes, counting and recounting them, even though he knows how many there are. Everything about Gio is at once brand-new and well-loved to him. 

After a moment, the only other sound the ancient Snoopy clock counting seconds in the kitchen, Mikey starts to hum. Three little birds sat on my window…

He can’t help remembering another morning just like this one, what feels like a lifetime ago. Mikey, all of thirteen, had insisted on being woken up to make breakfast so he could try a new crumble muffin recipe, but he’d stayed up too late the night before and sleep clung stubbornly to him despite the row of alarms he’d set. Their resident insomniac had been the only one awake, by virtue of not having gone to bed in the first place, and he’d parked himself in the beanbag under Mikey’s hammock and hummed the same song over and over until Mikey woke up. He had it stuck in his head for the rest of the day. They sang “GIRL PUT YOUR RECORDS ON” in the kitchen at the top of their lungs until Donnie sent the group chat a PDF of a noise complaint form, completely filled out. 

Mikey hadn’t realized he was taking any of it for granted back then. He would do anything— anything—to wake up that way again. Just one more time. 

Beside him, Gio stirs. Once he’s awake he’s alert fast, those big dark eyes sliding open and staying that way, head coming up off the pillow of his arms. He has that look on his face that Mikey would be tempted to call earnest on anyone else. 

“Rise and shine, Clementine,” Mikey says brightly, reaching over to rub the back of his fingers against a spotted cheek affectionately. “I was craving breakfast empanadas today and was hoping my best sous chef would be willing to help me out.” Then, deliberately light-hearted, he adds, “Little turtles who skip dinner have to eat extra breakfast, you know. That’s house rule number one.”

Gio blinks at him, his face giving nothing away to the casual observer. 

“I thought house rule number one was ‘always get it in writing’.” 

Mikey’s smile widens, surprised and pleased every time he plays along. 

“That’s number three, actually. Right behind ‘don’t do anything you wouldn’t want recorded and replayed at family functions.’ If you want, I can tell you exactly why that one’s a rule, and why it’s entirely Donnie’s fault.”

Gio does that thing where he assesses Mikey’s expression and tone as though he’s looking for the trap. Mikey weathers it, makes sure his smile doesn’t slip an inch. 

Donatello is more of an urban legend to Gio than his actual living brother. After a few hesitant attempts to approach the older turtle that had been shut down completely each time, Gio made the informed decision that that road was closed permanently. 

Sometimes Mikey will tell a story, or April, on one of her increasingly sporadic visits to the lair, will lean over and show him a video on her phone, and Gio will listen or watch like he has no idea who the guy they’re talking about could possibly be. 

They do their best, but there’s no way to really introduce the Donnie that they know to Gio, because that Donnie only still exists in their stories and videos. The Donatello who was silly, who loved music and theater, who burst into the living room with some new invention or gadget to boast about, had been replaced by one who rarely spoke, who didn’t even have Spotify on his phone anymore since it took up too much space, who kept the lair running only because it was where his family lived but not because he had any lasting attachment to the place, and he certainly didn’t make any unnecessary tech just for fun. 

I know you’re still in there, Mikey thinks sometimes. 

He’ll bring Donnie lunch and leave it on the table in the lab, and then hold out his arms. Sometimes, Donnie won’t look at him. Sometimes, Donnie will put his tools down and let his little brother crowd in for a hug. He’ll tuck Mikey under his chin and hold him tight, like they were children again and nothing was wrong that couldn’t be made right. 

Thank you for staying, Mikey will think, clinging for every second he’s allowed to. I know it’s hard. It’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do. 

The grief is always encroaching, like floodwaters. Rising slow and steady, swallowing up cars and street signs and single level houses, changing the landscape of his hometown until it’s an unfamiliar place. No end in sight. No sign of land. 

Someone send us a boat, Mikey wants to cry hysterically. But he knows how stupid that is.

He is the boat. 

—

When he met Giorgio for the first time, Mikey was twenty-five and Leo had been dead for ten years.

“Sorry,” Mikey said. His fingers felt numb around the phone. “Could you say that again?”

“A turtle,” Hueso had replied shortly. “I would not have called, but he has familiar eyes. He is not aware of any family in the area. Would you like me to ask him to wait for you?”

Mikey hadn’t tried his portals again since the last disastrous time—since Raph had made him promise to stop—so he knew it couldn’t be Leo. He knew it. Hueso would be able to pick his sobrino out of a million turtles and would have led the call with that. And Leo wouldn’t have stopped for pizza before running back to them, he wouldn’t have stopped for anything. Leo would have been the one to let them know Leo was home. 

Still, there was a tiny warbling hope in the bottom of his heart that wailed “maybe, maybe, maybe.” Still, it hurt to feel that hope shrivel up and die when Mikey slammed into the private dining room and found Hueso talking to an unfamiliar mutant with white spots and a black shell and—it was undeniable—Hamato Yoshi’s eyes. 

The turtle was small, dressed in dark grays and greens, a strap across his chest that made it clear he was armed by something resting out of sight on his back. He stood with his arms crossed, in a manner that was probably supposed to read as stubborn or defiant, but Mikey clocked instantly as nervous. 

This kid didn’t know what he was doing here or who the hell Mikey was and he looked about as comfortable with all the attention as Donnie would have been at that age. 

Mikey felt himself soften, some distant part of his heart sitting in disuse and disrepair lurching to life again. Ancestral magic that he had largely turned his back on suddenly stirred, ninpo reaching out fragile feelers toward the person in the room that it recognized as immediately as if it was looking at its own self in a mirror. 

“This is one of my creations,” Draxum announced, confirming what Mikey’s heart had already decided. “It must have survived after all.”

“Elaborate,” Mikey said, in a tone that didn’t match the gentle smile he had for the spotted turtle. 

“How old are you?” the alchemist had asked instead, which seemed an odd first question to have and didn’t explain literally anything. 

“Eighteen,” the spotted turtle replied. Mikey’s brow made a bid for his hairline. He would have been less surprised if the kid had said fifteen. Was he that scrawny as an eighteen year old?

“You hatched at about the same time as the red one,” Draxum said dispassionately, “so you should have been about his age, and he is twenty-seven. And how did you come to be here?”

Gio’s eyes slid away from him, over to Mikey. Mikey didn’t know what his face was doing. He hoped it was encouraging. 

“I went through a yellow door,” Gio said. “And I ended up here.” 

“By yellow door, I’m assuming you mean a rift in space-time,” Draxum said. “What possessed you to walk into it?”

“Felt safe,” Gio said, and that was the last thing he said about it, expression closing up in a way Mikey was intimately familiar with as I’m done talking and liable to bite if provoked. But Draxum was a lot of things, genius among them, and seemed to already have an idea of what had happened. 

Portals could be capricious. The night of Splinter’s mutation and escape from the Hidden City, a machine in Draxum’s original lab had gone haywire as the structure collapsed. Draxum watched as it snatched up various tools and equipment and finally one of the experiment enclosures that Splinter had not been able to reach in time to save its occupant with the four he already carried. 

With the machine destroyed, it was impossible to even begin tracking the experiment down to wherever it had ended up. And there were unfortunately small odds that the creature would have survived long on its own wherever the portal deposited it. Draxum had written it off as dead. 

But there he was. Ten years displaced, but living and healthy and whole. Apparently he’d been in another dimension all this time, and only came back again because a portal he encountered had looked inviting. 

—

And now he’s in Mikey’s kitchen, listening studiously to his brother’s chatter and following instructions with exacting precision, still wearing the ridiculously oversized red sweater Mikey bundled him into the day before. It made Raph’s face do something funny when he saw Gio in it at lunch, but he hadn’t said anything when he saw Mikey hauling it out of the dryer earlier that morning, and he didn’t say anything at the table either.  

Over the years and countless wash cycles it’s been worn to unbelievable softness. It used to be that Raph couldn’t keep it in his closet if he tried, caught as it was in a constant rotation between little siblings who loved to wear it, floppy sleeves and sagging hem and all. It’s almost strange to see it again, here under the kitchen lights in this new country they all live in. 

Stealing clothes was a baby brother right of passage. And it was just collecting dust in storage anyway. 

Gio sees Mikey looking and glances down self-consciously. Then he jolts, and drops the ball of dough in his hands, lifting and twisting his left arm to put it more in the light. Near the elbow of the sleeve is a smudge of flour. 

He thumbs at the spot, preoccupied by it. His body language is shrinking because he always makes himself a smaller target when he starts to get anxious. 

One day, Mikey is going to find whoever taught him to do that and have words. For now, he rounds the island to Gio’s side and leans against it so he can duck down and peer into that little spotted face. He makes sure to plant his own elbow in the flour dusted across the butcher block counter, sending up a little poof of it as he does. 

“Hey, sweet kid, don’t worry about this old thing. It’s already been through everything you can possibly think of,” Mikey reassures, tweaking the hood playfully. “It survived the Paintball War of 2017, it’ll hold up to a little baking accident.”

Gio’s dark eyes lift to meet his, attentive and absorbing everything he sees and so, so careful. 

“Raphael won’t get mad?” 

Mikey keeps smiling, even though he’d like to start crying. 

Of course he won’t, he wants to say. He’s your big brother and he loves you. He’d move heaven and earth for you. He doesn’t know how to say it these days—he doesn’t trust himself to hold people the way he used to, doesn’t know who he is anymore since the shield he used to be was broken—but he’s still Raph. Our Raphie. I promise, it’s still him. 

Gio had never been lifted up into strong arms and tossed in the air until he laughed, caught safely and held tight like those arms would never get tired of holding him. He had never crawled under the blankets in a room humming and blinking with electronics after a nightmare, resting his head on a broad shoulder and falling asleep to a low voice rattling off his favorite explanation of gravity—a force that held everything down, pulled everything together, that could always be counted upon to keep you. He had never snuck out for brunch, just him and someone who saw him more clearly than he could ever see himself, who knew when a stack of French toast and a string of Snapchat selfies and a little mischief was exactly what he needed. 

Gio had never had any of that. He had been alone since he was freshly mutated and abandoned by pure chance, and now he was barely nineteen and he didn’t know how else to be. He didn’t have the first clue, but he was so willing to learn. He soaked up attention like a plant starved for sunlight, petals reaching endlessly for an end to the dark.  

I wish you had been there, Mikey thinks sometimes when he looks at him, heart breaking with the truth of it. We would have held you. You wouldn’t even know how to be alone. You wouldn’t be worried about a stain on a sweater. 

“He won’t get mad,” Mikey says instead. He channels his most charming brother, the one who could sell water to a fish, who could talk his way out of anything, who convinced his family to keep hoping even when all hope seemed lost. “And hey, if he brings it up, we’ll just blame the cat.” 

The corner of Gio’s mouth twitches, and then he smiles despite himself, as buoyed along as Mikey always was when Leo was silly with him, and says, “We don’t have a cat.” 

“Maybe I’ve just been waiting for an excuse to get one!” 

At that point, a burst of white noise from the living room cuts over whatever Gio might have been about to say. It sounds like the roar of wind from an open window of a car going seventy down the highway. It cuts off, and then something clatters noisily, and Gio’s reluctantly amused expression vanishes into alarm. 

They don’t exactly get a lot of surprise visitors down here. He wouldn’t recognize the familiar sound of transportation-by-time-scepter, followed by the even more familiar sound of its clumsy wielder tripping and knocking something over immediately upon arrival. 

“Oops—helloooo?” 

“In here, Renet,” Mikey calls back, nudging his shoulder into Gio’s so he knows not to worry. 

The timestress bumbles in, scepter tucked into the crook of her arm so she has both hands free to fix her braids. She’s smiling all big and crooked and sweet, mouth open to greet Mikey the same enthusiastic way she always greets him, but she stops dead in the doorway when she catches sight of the second turtle in the room. 

Renet takes one look at Gio and says, “Oh! Well, you don’t belong here at all, do you?”

It’s been a long time since Mikey has felt like screaming at her, but the way his little brother absorbs that blow without flinching is enough to get him on his feet. 

“Hey, Nettie, can we talk in the hall?” he says with a brightness he doesn’t feel. “Georgie, I’ll be right back, okay?”

Gio dips his head in a nod, slowly rolling dough in his hands again, and Renet follows Mikey out of the room like someone who knows they’re about to face the firing squad. 

“I did not mean it like that,” is the first thing she says when it’s just the two of them. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

Mikey does know that somewhere in the back of his mind. Renet is his friend and she’s never been anything but kind to him. If they had met when they were children, they probably would have gotten along like a house on fire. 

There was a time when he only saw the best in people, but the idealism had been carved out of Mikey when his portal to the prison dimension failed to open.

Some days, Mikey looks at Renet and can only see the person with time itself at her disposal, the past and future spread out like a choose-your-own-adventure book—the person with the power to help, to change things, who took Mikey’s countless, desperate pleas to be allowed to save his brother and held them tenderly like they were important to her and still told him no. 

Some days, that “no” is the most significant thing she ever said to him. 

“He’s my brother,” Mikey says. “He belongs wherever we are.” 

“Of course he does,” Renet says, brown eyes soft. “Mike, of course he does. That’s not what I meant.”

When they move back into the kitchen, introductions are made properly, and Renet makes it a point to clarify that she’s glad to finally meet him. 

Giorgio is watching them with those eyes that take in everything. Deep and trusting when he looks at Mikey, sharpening into something calculative when he shifts his gaze toward Renet. 

Looking back, Mikey will recognize it as the moment he lost him. 

“Smells pretty good in here, boys!” Renet says, swanning over to the stovetop. “Oh, is that chorizo? Mike, tell me you’re not making empanadas! I already ate on my way over!” 

“Then you won’t need to stay for breakfast,” Mikey sing-songs, feathers still ruffled. Then, because he feels bad for the way she deflates at the blatant dismissal, adds, “If you want to stick around, you can take some back with you to Null Time. Just don’t let that jerk Savanti have any, I don’t like his vibe.” “I swear,” Renet says, hand to her heart. 

“You talk about time travel like it’s something you can do,” Gio says suddenly. “Is it?”

The air in the room suddenly feels much thinner than before. Renet looks at Mikey quickly before answering.

“Sure, Gio. I’m a timestress—or, you know, I’m a student now. Basically an unpaid intern. But one of these days I’ll be the real deal.” She winks at him, and Gio gazes back at her placidly. 

“So you could send someone back in time? To stop something bad from happening?”

Oh, no, Mikey thinks. 

“I could,” Renet says. To her credit, she doesn’t sound as bone-tired of this conversation as she must be. “But I can’t. There are so many rules, and for good reason! One little slip-up could be an absolute disaster. It won’t do you any good trying to change the past if you end up destroying the present and the future while you’re at it, right? I’m barely allowed to look at this thing, much less use it,” Renet goes on, wagging the priceless time scepter around like it’s a rubber spatula. 

“But you could,” Gio says. “If we followed all the rules. If we figured out a way—”

“Georgie,” Mikey interjects. 

“I’ll tell you what I told Mike, baby,” Renet says gently. “It can’t be done. He belongs here.” 

Gio says, “But I don’t. You said that.”

“Stop,” Mikey says, not recognizing his own voice. 

But it’s too late. It was too late when he tried to open a door inside the prison dimension, because Leo was already dead inside. 

He was already dead inside, Draxum had said, clinical in a way that helped to distance himself from the hurt, but also distanced himself from the ones hurting, clinical in a way that made Mikey bare his teeth and say things he couldn’t take back. That’s why you couldn’t reach him. It wasn’t your fault. There wasn’t a point for you to anchor off of, there was no other end for your line to reach. He was already dead inside. He was already gone. 

Mikey stares at Gio, the tuck of his chin as he looks back down at the dough on the counter. He’s unwilling to argue with Mikey, but that stubbornness is an innate family trait. There’s no way he’ll give it up now that he’s got his teeth sunk into the idea. Mikey knows what it looks like when a brother is about to leave. Mikey knows what it feels like when they’re already gone.   

When he was younger, he was so angry. He was bursting with potential, with possibilities, his magic a wounded, snarling creature in his heart. It’s not fair that he failed. It’s not fair that he didn’t save his brother, that his love wasn’t enough to punch through the prison dimension and wrap Leo in warmth and light and bring him home. It’s not fair that no one was willing to help him. 

Fine, he had thought, fine! I’ll do it myself! 

Renet had explained to him over and over that his power had more to do with space than time. Casey Jr. said that he’d been sent back in time by his Uncle Michelangelo, but that wasn’t necessarily true. Casey’s arrival in the past had created another universe, parallel to the former. That was Mikey’s power—he could affect and even create other timelines, which was powerful and amazing, but not true time travel. Nothing he did could change his own reality, the one he was living in, because he had already lived it. He couldn’t get back what he had lost. 

Mikey plunged ahead anyway, desperate. He could make it work. He could make a change. Even if it didn’t change anything here, he could find another world and save its Leo and—and maybe that could be a start. Maybe he would finally get his head up above water, and stop drowning for just one second of the day, maybe he’d be able to take a full breath for the first time since his brother disappeared on the other side of a closed door.  

He didn’t wait for permission or approval. He slunk off into a tunnel a mile away from home and drew the circles himself. Lifted his hands and filled them with power, until it felt like he was holding the sun. And it hurt, of course it did. It burned all the way through. But he was hurting anyway. 

A portal opened, a pale yellow window. Mikey looked through it, and saw himself on Staten Island, ripping open a hole in the universe and saving his brother. 

What?

He looked again, over and over, at least half a dozen times—and every time, he looked into a universe where Leo didn’t die. Where Mikey saved him, or Raph scooped him up before he went diving off the Technodrome to catch Mikey and Donnie, or Donnie flew back up to Leo with a rocket and yanked him back through the door before Casey managed to close it. Over and over and over, Leo didn’t die. 

So it’s just me, Mikey realized. I’m the one who got it wrong. 

Raph followed the detonation of ninpo and hysterical screaming through the maze-like tunnels and found him suspended in midair. Rock and rebar were flying around Mikey, everything not nailed to the earth turned dangerous projectiles, his arms burning and flaking away into pieces that disintegrated when they met open air. 

His big brother’s expression had been terrified as he pulled Mikey down into his arms and held him through the shrieking storm he’d made. One hand on the back of his head to keep his face tucked safely into Raph’s scarred shoulder, the other arm cradling him like he was half his age, like he was still someone’s baby. 

“Angie, it’s okay,” Raph had said, low and aching. His voice was a rumble beneath Mikey’s ear, barely audible but just loud enough. “It’s okay. You can scream, you can bring the whole damn city down if you want. But you gotta let go, sunshine. Let go, Mikey.” 

I don’t want to I don’t want to I don’t want to I don’t want to! Mikey wailed, clutching at Raph’s jacket with hands that felt like two white-hot points of pure agony, clinging, holding on. If he let go, Leo stayed gone. If he let go, he really didn’t love Leo enough to save him. 

But Raph pressed his cheek to the top of Mikey’s head, and his next breath shuddered in his chest, and he whispered, “I know you don’t want to, I know. But this isn’t gonna save him. You’re just hurting yourself and L—Leo would hate that. He’d tell you to stop.” One hand crept over to cover both of Mikey’s, squeezing them tight. “Come on, big man. It’s okay. Let go.” 

He let go. The magic faded, dropping everything it had picked up back to the tunnel floor with dull thuds. His hands spasmed wildly, grip nonexistent, and Raph just kept holding them as he carried Mikey home. 

Mikey sobbed for the rest of the night, what felt like hours and hours. Raph reverted to turtle sounds when nothing he said seemed to get through, and Donnie crept under the blanket and plastered himself to Mikey’s carapace so that they had “A little citrus sandwich!” Leo would cheer, the silliest and sweetest turtle in the world until Mikey finally cracked a smile. 

His family made him promise not to try again. It’s not worth it, they said, a unified front—and as much as the words hurt Mikey to hear, it must have hurt his siblings and father just as much to say them. We can’t lose anyone else, they were ready to beg, because they didn’t know it was his fault Leo was gone. They didn’t understand how badly he’d failed them all. If they did, they wouldn’t have been so grimly determined to protect Mikey’s life from his own hands. 

It felt like a betrayal at the time, but he understands now. 

It’s not worth it, he thinks, staring at Gio. I can’t lose anyone else, he’s ready to beg. 

But Mikey knows what it looks like when a brother is about to leave. Mikey knows what it feels like when they’re already gone. 

What he doesn’t know is how to love someone well enough to keep them. 

[stayevildarling]

Cordelia Goode x Wilhemina Venable x Billie Dean Howard x Reader- Oh, dear, don't be discouraged

A/N: I had this idea a while ago and decided to give it a go. Title inspired by the song ,,Call your mom'' by Noah Kahan

Prompt: Reader is a very insecure bean basically that still struggles with the shadows from her past

tags/tw: established relationship, mention of past emotional abuse, mention of toxic family members, mention of toxic past relationship, mention of physical abuse, anxiety, cursing, smoking, lots of angst/fluff/comfort

word count: 4k

taglist:

@lunaticwhittaker , @billiebeanhoward , @lanawinters-ily , @kenzbro , @minaslittleone , @httpfiftyshadesofgay @whitelotus00 , @ninaahelvar , @paulsonsratched , @vintagepaulson , @isle-of-earle , @grilledcheeseandguavajelly , @lucyintheskywithxanax , @fanfics4world , @mymiraclewitch , @hazard-to-myself , @awritersometimes , @wastdstime , @p1pecleanerwitheyes , @queen2234 , @ihartnat , @lifebyinez , @ahsatanizgay , @blu3dimples , @stepintomyworld

The day had began like any other, your three girlfriends leaving for work, Cordelia settling in her office within the academy, Billie filming her show and Wilhemina at her work. The three of you had a brief chat over coffee in the morning, before they left. And usually, you would equally have some work to do, helping out Cordelia within the academy but as the holidays had began, almost all of them had left to spent them with their family or friends, leaving you feeling a little empty and lost.

The four of you had began dating a few months ago, you having been at the academy for several years, one of Cordelia's most promising witches, the supreme helping you perfect your magic, teaching you to control it and conquer it. You are sure you had fallen for the supreme from the first moment you had seen her as she opened the front door for you for the first time. But quickly you realised her relationship to the two other women similar to her age living at the academy and the occasional remarks from the girls about the nature of their relationship, quickly feeling discouraged but happy to see the blonde happy.

However, you had somehow grown closer to Billie as well, the medium often watching you in the greenhouse, when working on your potions or teaching a class, watching you in silent adoration, before eventually asking you to get some coffee with her and inviting you to the set of her show. It didn't take long before Wilhemina began showing an interest in you and then everything took it's turn. The four of you often spending time together, over dinner or watching some movies until the tension reached it's peak point, neither of you able to stay around the other without confessing your feelings or your lips connecting. Your hearts pulling you in the right direction and finally getting the four of you to talk this out and give this whole thing a go.

And it had been several months now but the four of you had been taking it slow, you not moving into their shared bedroom until a few weeks ago as you never wanted to intrude but they quickly made you realise how much they care about you and want you to be close to them. You had your little routine with all of them, often helping Billie with social media for her show, little meetings in her office over your favourite lunch as she would watch you work magic on her computer, sitting on her lap and plastering your face and neck in kisses. With Delia, you enjoyed the quiet moments in the greenhouse, the two of you working on spells and potions together, your magic working perfect together. And with Wilhemina, you adored the quiet moments, her reading to you or her face when you bought her the book that she had been gushing about for ages, unable to find it so far.

You loved them each in their own way, Delia undeniably being your sun, your reason to go forward as she would light up your heart and days with her bright smile and soft hands. Billie made your heart and body weak, the way she would lock eyes with you while smoking a cigarette, jokingly offering you one every single time and you declining every single time. The way her jokes were so terrible but made you laugh either way because of her adorable smile when waiting after the joke for you to begin laughing. And Wilhemina had quickly become your safety, whenever she was lingering nearby or she was in a room, you felt like nothing in this universe could ever hurt you again, a warm and safe hand always lingering on you somewhere, her voice filling your ears even when she wasn't there but something was upsetting you.

And so, you had decided to do something special for them tonight. At this point you practically knew everything about them, each little detail about them, their favourite things and you had quickly figured out their favourite meal and so you opted to leave the academy in the morning, getting all the ingredients as well as some flowers to decorate the table, bringing Cordelia some lunch and tea while she works away at lunchtime before starting your preparations in the afternoon. Now, this was certainly not the first time you had cooked for them, you often doing this, wanting them to have a warm meal when they would return from work, but something about tonight felt different, so badly wanting to make their favourite meal special, having done a lot of research to get it just right.

You had spent hours in the kitchen, chopping vegetables, mixing the ingredients and spices, setting the table, putting the flowers in a vase, opening a bottle of wine and preparing some water in a jug, the table looking both neat and pretty. Your thoughts had been swirling around dinner, whether they would like it, whether you could do it justice when Cordelia cooked this for the four of you, what happened if they hated it. Your anxiety had been getting the better of you lately but you had tried pushing it away, not even realising how hard you are gripping the wooden spoon you are cooking with, the trembling of your hands and how your entire body is tense, much less relaxed than it should be, as after all you are simply cooking for your girlfriends and wanting to spend a comfortable evening with them afterwards.

When the front door opens, as well as the sound of the stairs, your heart pangs in your chest, setting dinner on the table and using your magic to light some of the candles. ,,Wow something smells good'' Billie acknowledges as she steps through the door, not having seen you yet, Cordelia already by the kitchen door, leaning against it as she watches you lovingly, her smile wide at seeing how much effort you had put into this. ,,You didn't have to go all out like this babydoll, but damn it looks good'' she chuckles as she presses a kiss to your cheek, before abandoning her bag and sitting down. Cordelia sits down as well, giving you a warm smile and mouthing a quiet ,,Thank you''.

,,This looks incredible little one, you always know how to spoil us'' Wilhemina says as she walks past you to her chair, her hand softly lingering on your shoulder for a moment before giving it a little squeeze. Your anxiety begins easing a little as the four of you begin eating, falling into easy conversation, as Billie shares bits about the new season of her show, Wilhemina sharing some details about her idiot bosses and how they had managed to annoy her today and Cordelia giving some updates on the witches, having checked in whether they had made it home safely for the holidays.

,,This sauce'' Billie pauses after taking another bite ,,It's really good, did you add something extra? like a nutmeg or something?'' she asks, stiffening her moans at how good this meal tastes. Yet your breath gets caught in your throat, your mind immediately racing.

Nutmeg? was that a bad thing? does it taste wrong? You hadn't even thought of adding nutmeg, maybe it was something else you had added, something that made their favourite meal taste strange. Your heart begins pounding in your chest, your hands suddenly feeling cold and clammy as your anxiety gets ahold of you. Despite your voice steady, you couldn't hide the tightness in it ,,I.. I didn't mean to mess it up.. I just'' you begin justifying yourself.

Billie's brow furrows, looking confused as she glances at you ,,Mess it up? No, I mean it in a good way babydoll, it tastes amazing, like you really put a lot of effort into it'' she reassures, glancing at Cordelia and Wilhemina, unsure what she had said wrong in order to visibly upset you this much. But her words don't register, all you hear is that there is something different, something wrong. Your chest tightens and suddenly you feel like you can't breathe, panic gripping you as you fight back the tears.

Waves of flashbacks wash over you suddenly, pulling you right back into your childhood, the many times you had messed up, the shouting at the dinner table for failing your homework or tidying your room. Suddenly your ex partner's words filling your memory about how you had to make dinner and how it had to be perfect and the punishment when it wasn't to their standards. The three of them catch on, never having seen you like this before, the concern written across their features as the medium looks at the supreme pleadingly, unsure what she had done, unsure how she could fix this and snap you out of this state, this clearly being a misunderstanding.

Billie gently moves her chair back, in order to move a little closer to you and her hand gently moves towards you, wanting to soothe you and tell you whatever this was it's okay. But her movement causes you to snap out of the flashbacks of your past, flinching as you force your eyes shut and instinctively move away a little. As you open your eyes a moment later, three sets of concerned brown eyes glance at you, Billie extracting her hand immediately and her features shocked as she doesn't understand what had just happened. ,,Little one?'' Wilhemina asks gently, her eyes observing you quietly. ,,What's going on?'' she asks, her voice soft, despite the concern rippling through her as she had a feeling what this may mean.

Suddenly the walls close in around you as you notice what just happened, that you had been vulnerable around them with this, that you never wanted them to see this side of you, knowing they had enough to worry about in their busy lifes. You compose yourself, reaching for Billie‘s hand before clearing your throat that still feels tight „Sorry, I just feel a little off today“ you apologize, squeezing Billie‘s hand in order to make the concern fade from her beautiful features. And momentarily it all quietens down, Billie kissing your hand before the four of you continue with your meals but Cordelia‘s and Wihemina‘s eyes speak depths as they silently communicate, watching you closely as Billie captures you in a conversation about dinner and how much she enjoys it, asking for another serving.

They knew something was going on, especially the supreme and redhead, always having a deeper understanding for things like these and having noticed little things before, choosing to not ask you about them as they weren‘t sure and wanted to give you the opportunity to approach them when the time was right but tonight they realize, this whole thing may be much more serious than they initially believed. While Billie sneaks away for a cigarette after dinner, asking if you would join her, which you do, Cordelia and Wilhemina begin on the dishes before having a quiet conversation, their shared concern radiating from their beautiful features.

„Delia?“ the redhead asks quietly, barely above a whisper before the supreme meets her eyes, the look in her eyes enough to know exactly what her girlfriend is about to say. ,,I know“ the supreme sighs, struggling to keep her concern at bay. So far she had a feeling about what your past may have looked like but the flinching confirmed yet even her worst fears. „Should we talk to her?“ the redhead asks but the supreme hesitates, knowing from her own experience how delicate this subject is and ultimately you are too, knowing this needed to be handled with care. And she didn‘t want to overwhelm you further tonight but she nods either way, feeling her heart aching at the scene still replaying in her mind.

Cordelia pauses for a moment, weighing her options and words carefully. „We should“ she finally says, her voice soft but firm. „But not tonight, she‘s already overwhelmed and pushing might make it worse“. Wilhemina nods, her lips pressed into a thin line. „We just need to be patient with her“ the supreme adds before the redhead nods in agreement. „I know“ she counters with a sigh „I just hate seeing her like this. I knew she was holding something back but this..“ her thoughts trail off and replay the events from earlier.

As Wilhemina finishes drying the last dish, she sits down, Cordelia walking over to her, resting a hand on her girlfriend‘s arm. „We will figure it out together honey“ she encourages and Wilhemina smiles sadly at the blonde, knowing she is right but hating the fact that you are hurting either way.

Meanwhile outside, Billie finishes her cigarette, glancing at you as you sit beside her. She nudges you gently, her usual playful smirk not quite reaching her eyes this time, feeling the weight of the concern lingering on her. „You okay babydoll?“ she asks, trying to keep the tone light, despite the concern visible in her voice. You manage a small smile, nodding, though your mind still racing „Yeah I‘m fine, sorry about earlier… I didn‘t mean to freak out like that“ you apologize, feeling bad for how you acted.

Billie flicks the end of her cigarette away, turning towards you fully. „You don‘t need to apologize for anything baby, I just- I didn‘t know“ she hesitates, unsure how to finish her sentence. After a few moments of silence she whispers „You know you can talk to us right?“ her voice surprisingly tender. You nod again, despite the lump forming in your throat. The urge to explain everything and the guilt overwhelm you but the words get suck and so instead you settle for leaning into her, resting your head on her shoulder, hoping that maybe for the tonight, that would be enough.

As the two of you sit in comfortable silence, the moon hanging high in the sky above you, you can‘t help but wonder how much longer you could keep these parts of yourself hidden. You had always been the one to support others and them but it feels strange being the one needing help. But with each passing minute, it becomes harder to keep the cracks from showing and not have them know about your past and struggles.

The weeks following, you try your best to focus on your girlfriends, spending time with them and enjoy the beauty of being with each other and loving each other. But your past follows you around either way, putting you on edge a little and causing the anxiety to return, the averted gazes, shaking hands and racing heart. And slowly your girlfriends began catching on further, they had tried to talk to you about it but not getting much out of you as the thought of opening up terrifyied you and so you began hiding it as best as you can, forcing yourself through the situations and triggers as best as you could but you couldn‘t always control it and it only began worrying them more.

Last night was a quiet one, the four of you in the comfortable embrace of each other before Billie and Wilhemina started their usual bickering. It had undeniably been their love language for many years, teasing each other, joking and a lot of sarcasm and usually you adored it but tonight it was putting you on edge. Every single raising of their voices took you right back to your past, the times you simply tried to ask a question or maybe repeating their name, thinking the person didn‘t hear you before recieving shouting in return. You had been laying in Cordelia‘s arms on the sofa, watching a movie when your other two girlfriends began, the supreme watching with an amused smirk before you began shaking. Despite your best efforts to hide it, you couldn‘t stop your body from flinching or the occasional shaking when their voices raised slightly.

„Sweetheart?“ Cordelia asked ever so gently, instinctively pulling you closer but you froze, unable to answer her and lost in your own thoughts. She gave Wilhemina and Billie a sign to stop and they immediately did upon noticing your discomfort. Still, they couldn‘t get the truth out of you and so you stayed in Cordelia‘s arms, trying to focus on the movie and not your triggering thoughts. But the days that followed only seem to intensify how you are feeling, not able to hide it anymore the way you had at the beginning of your relationship. It was little things here and there, remarks that they didn‘t even think twice about that set you on edge and today you couldn‘t possibly hide it any longer.

The day had started well, spending some time with your girlfriends in the morning over coffee before both Billie and Wilhemina headed to work, before you helped Cordelia with some classes and in and around the greenhouse. It wasn't until Madison stormed in hours later, beginning to argue with Cordelia over something ridiculous that your past crashed over you, your mind instantly clouded and your body instantly tensing and reacting. Panic surges through you and you try hard to control your breathing and tell yourself that this wasn't him, that this wasn't them but for some reason you couldn't. It takes you back to all those moments where you weren't good enough, when your pain wasn't valid and you needed to pull it together, when your cooking, your actions, your looks weren't good enough, when most of the time people prefered you not to speak. Every little insecurity and thought washes over you, not being good enough, not being pretty or skinny enough, being annoying and useless and not good at anything. Cordelia is so wrapped up in the argument that she doesn't even notice your state behind her, Madison not necessarily caring or understanding the severity of it. It's not until the blonde raises her hand against your girlfriend that you snap out of it, surging forward before holding her wrist in place. ,,Don't'' you manage to hiss before the blonde's eyebrows raise, not expecting this reaction from you, giving Cordelia an eye roll before storming out of the greenhouse. And only then the supreme seems to notice your discomfort, despite your act of bravery and protecting her, you are visibly shaken, your face very pale and for the first time she can see a deeper pain behind your orbs. But she doesn't get the chance to talk to you about it as you leave the greenhouse as well, leaving the supreme alone with her thoughts and worries, needing some time to yourself.

You never realised in your state that it was by now dark outside, the moon hanging high in the sky and your girlfriends long home by now, Billie preparing some leftover dinner as she watches you storm away, not even noticing her presence. Panic surges through you again, the initial shock from stopping Madison having disappeared and the triggering thoughts and flashbacks back. As you try and make your way to the bedroom or possibly the bathroom to hide away, you suddenly bump into someone, not even realising what just happened, you quickly compose yourself before you register that your girlfriend Wilhemina is standing in front of you with a puzzled and concerned reaction. ,,Little one?'' she asks before she offers you her hand to help you up. You take it hesitantly before standing but one look is enough, feeling your hand shaking in her own that she knows something was severely wrong and both of you knew that you couldn't ignore this any longer. ,,Come with me'' she offers and your hand stays in her own as she leads you to her office and away from everything and everyone else.

,,Take a seat'' she offers and you reluctantly opt for the armchair in the corner before she fetches some water for you. ,,Drink up'' she ushers, not liking the colour on your face and you obey, taking some sips and blinking a few times as everything is still a little blurry. The redhead takes a seat opposite you, leaning her cane against the other armchair as she takes in your features. ,,I think it's time you tell us what's going on little one'' she encourages, her voice soft but her statement firm, leaving no room for arguments or further hiding on your part. And you knew you needed to tell them eventually, work through it with them but you didn't want it to be today, not even sure how to put your entire past into a statement. She gives you time as she watches you organise your thoughts, thinking about how to start but she notices your holding back, assuming you didn't know how to do this, the redhead often having similar problems in the past until Cordelia had helped her through the worst of it.

,,You've been anxious lately, scared and we worry little one, we just want what's best for you'' she explains gently as she offers you her hand to hold and you take it. ,,Can I ask you some questions, would that be easier?'' she offers and you nod before she gives you a proud smile. ,,Good girl'' she praises before squeezing your hand a little tighter. ,,Has someone hurt you, little one?'' she asks, getting straight to the point as she knew there was no way around this. You pause, unsure how to answer this before reluctantly nodding ,,My parents weren't always the kindest to me and I was in a bad relationship before'' you explain, hoping that maybe that would be enough for the redhead to understand. And more than you could ever know she does understand, not having the easiest upbringing herself, similar to yours as she was always put down, always told she wasn't a priority to them and how her physical problems were simply in her imagination and she needed to pull herself together.

Her jaw tightens, overprotectiveness washing over her as she hated the thought of someone hurting you in any kind of way. ,,I'm sorry that happened to you little one'' she apologises sincerly and somehow you feel more confident in sharing with her, feeling nothing but safe and understood in this moment. ,,They would often tell me I'm not good enough and that I don't do things correctly, I think that's why I overreacted at dinner with Billie before'' you explain and Wilhemina nods, understanding exactly now what happened. ,,And when you two joked together, it reminded me of when I was called names or shouted at and earlier with Delia and Madison, I just couldn't let Madison hurt Delia because.... because'' you try and finish but the tears and lump in your throat stops you and Wilhemina leans forward, you sharing more than she expected or needed from you for tonight.

,,It's okay little one'' she whispers as she holds you in her arms, instinctively holding you closer than she should be, wanting you to know she is here, wanting you to know that as long as she is around, no one was ever going to treat you bad again. No one would ever lay a hand on you and no one would ever hurt you again. And through your sobs, she tells you just that, that you are safe, that she has got you, that she is so proud of you for opening up and so sorry you are feeling this way. After a while the sobbing stops and you pull away a little as the redhead hands you a tissue from her desk. ,,I'm sorry for not telling you sooner, I just didn't want you to worry'' you explain but she can see the shame in your eyes and she simply nods, telling you not to worry about that. She can still see some hesitation in your eyes, a small part of you scared and so she leans a little closer, her eyes piercing right through yours as she begins speaking again.

,,Little one listen'' she begins and you lock eyes ,,Do you know why I'm scared of doctors appointments? do you know why Delia gets anxious around Madison sometimes? and do you know why Billie has nightmares?'' she asks and you nod. You knew about Cordelia's past and her mother and how she had treated her, you knew bits about Wilhemina's upbringing and Billie's past and suddenly her statement makes you realise that your girlfriends are struggling with the same things. ,,There is nothing wrong with the scars that the past has left on us'' she explains and tears begin swelling in your eyes again, at her gentleness this time. ,,All we want to do is take care of you, like you take care of Billie after a nightmare, like you take care and take me to my appointments and how you protected Delia before'' she explains and you feel a surge of relief and understanding then, knowing the four of you may had different pasts but still it connected you.

,,Thank you Mina'' you thank her as your chin quivers a little and she smiles before shaking her head a little. ,,Don't thank me little one, not for this'' she explains and you nod before she strokes your cheek and wipes the remaining tears away. ,,And I promise you we will be more careful with certain things but if you feel like this again, I want you to tell either of us okay?'' she asks before holding her pinky finger out to you, knowing about your pacts with Cordelia and neither of you ever breaking those promises. You lock your fingers with her, sealing the promise before she kisses your forehead ,,I'm so proud of you Y/N'' she whispers before glancing at you again ,,How about we join the others for dinner?'' she offers and you nod, knowing they deserved to know every bit of this as well and wanting to come clean, still feeling sorry for storming away from Cordelia the way you had before.

,,Sweetheart, are you okay?'' Cordelia asks as soon as you step into the kitchen and you nod before apologising for storming away. The four of you begin eating dinner, an obvious tension in the air before you glance at Wilhemina, who gives you an encouraging nod. And so slowly, you begin telling them why you had been acting strange, why you had reacted to certain things in the way you had been. You shared some more details this time, both blondes having more questions about what exactly had happened and you shared, wanting nothing but honesty from now on and feeling safe with them. While Wilhemina still felt angry listening to your confessions, hating the people that did this to you, Cordelia and Billie listened with tears in their eyes but also recognising some of those things from their own past. And by the end of the night, as the four of you lay in each other's arms, you wrapped up between Billie and Cordelia, there is a silent understanding between the four of you, the last of the walls broken and all cards on the table, knowing you could truly move forward as a couple now.

,,I'm so proud of you babydoll'' Billie tells you as her fingertips run through your hair, soothing you. ,,Thank you for earlier with Madison'' Cordelia thanks you, knowing the blonde triggered something within her through her mother and unsure how she would have reacted if you didn't step in. ,,Of course'' you whisper before adding ,,I would never let that bitch touch you'' you whisper and before either of them can say anything, Wilhemina's voice from behind Billie rings through the room ,,Language little one'' and you can't help but burst out laughing in synch with the two blondes, eventually the laughs of you four echoing through the quiet room, as you hold each other, knowing you will have each other's backs, always.

[gaysindistress]

When Night Comes - seven

Summary: Who would win in a staring contest? New York’s resident mob boss and master of the side eye Bucky Barnes or the daycare teacher who really wants to go home and smoke?

pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x reader

warnings: mob!Bucky, cursing, the feels, angst, I’m not nice to Yelena in this chapter

word count: 4k

six | masterlist

Tag list: @vickie5446 @cakesandtom @buckybarnessimpp @hidden-treasures21​ @unaxv​ @mal-adaptive-dreams @elizacusi-blog

a/n: “If We Were Vampires (feat. Wesley Schultz)” by Noah Kahan inspired the last part of this chapter so give it a listen when you get closer to the end. I also need to stop making a posting schedule. I never follow it 😂

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest

“If you can hear me, clap once.”

“If you can hear me, clap twice.”

“If you can hear me, clap three times.”

“And if you can hear me, put your hands in your lap,” Sunny smiles as the kids follow her instructions, “Thank you, thank you. Now we are going to go outside so when I call your name, please grab your things and go line up. I want a spy line; no one should be able to hear or see us walk down the hallway, yeah?” 

The kids shout ‘yes’ in response and eagerly await their turn to line up, their tiny bodies nearly shaking with excitement to play outside. One by one they collect their things and line up, each having a little side conversation while eyeing the two teachers in the room because they know they’re not following expectations. Jessica, always the fly on the wall, sneaks up behind two boys and surprises them when she whispers, “Aren’t spies supposed to be silent?”

They nod in agreement and quickly shut their mouths, turning to face the person in front of them. Most of the time she’s able to surprise them and scare them (with love) while other times she has to whip out her maternal look of scorn to get them to follow rules. Sunny, however, can glance over in their direction and the kids immediately shape back up. All it takes is one fleeting glance and the kids know to listen. The more challenging ones might need a verbal reminder but sweet little Wyatt Rogers is quick to do that for the teachers. Jessica likes to joke that he will grow up to be a teacher or police officer one day with his love for rules and enforcing them. 

Today is no different with him quickly stepping in to gently correct his peers before Jessica or Sunny have to. Unease fills Sunny though when she meets his startling blue eyes. She convinces herself that he has no way of knowing about Strigoi and that she knows about his parents even though the way his eyes are piercing her at the moment might be telling a different story. She offers him a small smile, hoping to ease her own worry. He smiles back before looking away to talk to the boy behind him. With his eyes no longer analyzing her soul, she should feel a way of relief washing over her but she doesn’t. 

The phone rings, telling them that a parent is there to pick up their child, and she jumps at the sound. Jessica gives her a puzzled look as she starts the headcount and Sunny answers the phone. 

“Hello, dragă.”

The honeyed voice strikes fear into her core and she freezes as it continues to speak, “I’m here for Wyatt. As much as I like Jessica, I’d rather you be the one to bring him out.”

“Uh… yeah okay, I’ll bring Wyatt out,” she stutters, hanging up the phone too quickly and shoving it into her sweatshirt pocket. 

“Wyatt!” she calls over to the boy, “Wyatt it’s time to go home.”

“I can take him,” Jessica offers, still not blissfully unaware of everything that had happened a few days prior. All she had gotten out of her was that the date had gone well. Other than that, not a single word about Bucky or Alix. 

“No, it’s okay. I’ll do it.”

Jessica catches her wrist before she can walk out of the door, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” and with that, she pulls her wrist away and places her hand on Wyatt’s shoulder to walk him to the main entrance. Standing with his back to the door is Bucky in a black and white tweed jacket with black jeans and a matching striped sweater under. Wyatt races to open the door when he sees his uncle, pushing the door open with all of his might and letting the devil in disguise in. 

“Uncle Buck! Mama said Daddy was going to pick me up today.”

“He got caught up with work and asked me to,” he tells him, ruffling up his blonde hair as he signs him out, “Go wait in the car.”

He allows the boy to duck under his arm as he opens the door before setting his sights on Sunny. 

“Yelena told me that you refused our help again. How am I supposed to be a gentleman if you don’t let me?”

“I don’t think you qualify as a gentleman anymore.”

He raises his thick brows at her insinuation, “And what about me disqualifies me?”

“I know what you’re doing and I’m not falling for it.”

“I’m not doing anything but asking what you mean so please enlighten me.”

She cocks her head in annoyance, “I need to get back to the classroom.”

“Enlighten me,” he repeats, voice dropping a few octaves. 

To the human ear, they might hear the slight hitch in her breathing but to him, he can hear every intake, how it sticks to the inside of her lungs and refuses to release. He can hear how her heartbeat quickens when he looks or speaks directly to her. He can hear the blood rush throughout her body and pound against the inside of her veins. Everything is laid bare to him and she is painfully aware of it hence why she finds the words spilling out without a second thought, “She told me that you’re a Strigoi and your business is how you know Alix.”

“Oh, she did? What else did she say?”

“You don’t know what she wants with me and that she’s putting herself in a lot of danger coming here.”

“And?” 

“That’s all.”

His eyes narrow in disbelief but he lets it go, eyes softening at the fear that sours her usually sweet scent, “I’ll see you tonight, dragă.”

Too paralyzed by fear, she doesn't ask him what he means and just watches as he lets the door close behind him and gets into the car. It’s not until after his car pulls back onto the road that she snaps back to reality. Her body trembles as she walks back, air Jordans scuffling the linoleum that is probably as old as she imagines Bucky to be. 

Jessica peeks her head out of the doorway, “What took so long? Was he being… a meanie head?”

The girl in front of the line squawks at her choice of words, chiding her for calling someone a name. 

“He just wanted to talk,” she quickly says before turning to the kids, “Remember spies in the hallway, and then you can go wild outside.”

An eruption of excited squeals comes from the line but they all settle down the moment they step into the hallways. Too focused on walking backward and keeping a close eye on the line, her body returns to its normal state and she doesn’t feel the text vibrating in the back pocket of her jeans. 

“Are you going to tell me what happened Friday night?”

“I already did.”

Jessica snorts, “No you did not. Something else happened so spill.”

Sunny’s trained on watching the hoard of children running around the playground, “Nothing else happened, I swear. It went well.”

“What happened with Bucky then?”

“Again nothing. He kept texting me all weekend but I told him I need space until I can figure out what to do.”

“So that’s why you came back terrified, okay, yeah,” sarcasm drips from Jessica’s voice as she mocks the lies, “You don’t have to tell me everything but at least quit lying about it.”

But she can’t. 

She can’t tell her the truth, even a sliver of it will have Jess calling the cops because of how insane she sounds. The underlying pain in her voice tugs at her heart but it’s not enough to make her break and she maintains her cover-up. 

“Jess, seriously, I’m not lying. It’s all just a lot. I wasn’t expecting that from him or to like Yelena so much so it’s just a lot trying to figure out what to do.”

“Yeah well, I know what to do.”

“Do tell.” “Dump him and focus on her. She’s clearly more interested than he is no matter how downright gorgeous he is. I wouldn’t even give him the time of day. Ghost him.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Jessica sends her one glance and parting words before heading over to diffuse a fight she sees brewing, “There’s no thinking, just ghost him.”

The knock on her door disturbs her peace, drawing a deep groan from her as she stubbornly gets up. The intruder knocks again, more harshly this time as if saying ‘Hurry up and answer the damn door.’ The edible she took earlier needs to kick in faster if she’s going to deal with whoever decided that 10 pm is the perfect time to bother her. Before the third round of knocks comes, she swings open the door and levels a very bored look at Bucky. 

“The fuck are you doing here?”

“I told you I was coming over.”

“And I thought you'd forget but here we are,” she goes to close the door but his large hand stops it. 

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

“Is that a part of the Strigoi thing?”

“Nope,” he pops the ‘p’ a little too much as she steps to the side and lets him in. It’s dark enough inside that he wonders if she was about to go to bed, however, the music video that’s playing on the projector tells him otherwise. Sza has been playing on repeat since she got home and she’s definitely not about to pause it for him. 

He looks around her apartment, taking in every detail he can about her and the side she never lets anyone see. Ms. Sunny the daycare teacher is not the true representation of who she is aside from a few key characteristics. She is loving, warm, and amazing with kids however those are usually hidden behind her favorite blank stare and quick comebacks. Something about her is distinctly unique and maybe it’s the way she casually knocks his ego down or it’s how quickly she got under his skin without trying. 

Either way, he has to harass her for the basket of edibles on the coffee table, “I didn’t peg you for a stoner.”

She drops back into her spot on the couch, wrapping herself in a blanket, “Says the drug dealer.”

“I’m not a drug dealer,” his retort goes over her head as he takes a seat on the other side of the couch. 

“I find that hard to believe,” leaning forward, she pops open a container and takes another edible. This man requires at least 20 mg for her to put up with his shit. She can feel his eyes burning holes into her back so she offers the container to him. Maybe a little THC will chill him out and he won’t be so unbearable

“I’m not like Alix.”

“So you’re not a mobster and not human?” 

“Well you got me there but I promise I’m not in the same business as she is.” 

“What business are you in exactly?” 

He takes a seat at the other side and says, “Is that the question you really want to ask?”

“It’s the first one I’m going to ask.” 

He pops one into his mouth, eyes on hers the entire time like he’s trying his hardest to devour her. She pays him no mind and turns her attention to her phone to change the playlist. She contemplates putting on a show or movie to pass the time until the edibles hit them but he has other plans. 

“Strigoi and Lycan’s business is different from what you’re thinking.”

Settling back into her corner, she narrows her eyes at him, “Different as in you traffic people?”

“We don’t do that. That’s more of a Lycan thing now. We are more about controlling our population and keeping our existence under wraps.” 

“But you did do it at one point?” 

“No, I didn’t but it was a Strigoi matter years ago. We don’t need to kidnap people to feed.” 

“Next question; can you even get high?”

He lets out a small chuckle and slings his arm across the back of the couch, “Yes but it doesn’t last as long as it does for you. It acts as a dampener for the thirst.” 

Her eyebrows shot up in shock, “Are you always ya know… bloodthirsty?”

“It never really goes away so in a way I guess but I can control myself. There’s no need to be afraid of me,” he softens his voice towards the end, smelling the fear that has started to rise in her. 

“How do you know I’m afraid of you?” 

“I can smell it and I’m not stupid. It’s written all over your face.” 

She drops her face to look at her hands wrapped up in the green blanket her brother gave her before he died. 

“Yelena has been tracking that Lycan woman you saw me with. Alix doesn’t seem to know where you are yet.”

“Key word is yet,” she scoffs, picking at the lint balls on the blanket. 

“If you let us, we could protect you. She might be desperate but she wouldn’t risk years of peace to get to you.” 

“You clearly don’t know her.”

“So tell me then; what does she want with you?” 

The challenge in his words quickens her heartbeat and he snaps his eyes shut to will away the Strigoi inside as the blood rushing becomes overwhelming. When he opens his eyes, she’s staring at him with a knowing look. 

“No need to be afraid of you?” 

“What can I say? There’s something about you that makes me lose my self-control,” he chuckles however she’s unamused. 

“That’s not very reassuring.”

“It should be flattering if anything,” he says as he takes off her leather jacket to reveal a simple gray t-shirt and black jeans. His signature superstars Adidas give him a domesticated look that is all too deceiving when she knows what lurks beneath the surface. 

“How exactly is that flattering?” 

“I’ve been around for a while, not many things tempt me let alone lose control. The fact that just being near you tests that aren’t just a coincidence; there’s something special about you.”

She has to resist her own urge to rack her eyes down his form as she speaks, “Maybe that’s why Alix wants me so bad.”

“Maybe,” he dryly chuckles as the hand on the back of the couch flexes in a not-so-humorous manner at the mention of her ex. 

“How do you know her?”

“I don’t personally know her but I know of her and her reputation.”

She nods her head slowly as the edible sits in but it does nothing to help with the storm in her mind. Everything about Alix and her brother swirls inside as she stares absentmindedly in his direction. 

“I wanted to apologize for the other night,” he starts slowly, hoping to gently bring her back to him, “I saw you with her and it just… I saw red but that isn’t an excuse for how I treated you.”

“You’re right,” she whispers still fixated on his watch. 

“What?” “You’re right,” she says louder now, looking at him head-on, “You were an asshole about the worst possible thing ever. It’s so confusing sometimes how sweet you can be but within seconds, you’re a completely different person.”

It’s his turn to hang his head, “I know and that’s not how I want you to see me. Like I told you, I don’t view this as a fling…”

She interrupts him, “Are you really giving me that bullshit? ‘I can see this turning into something real’? No this,” she gestures between them, “isn’t turning into anything. You blew that chance.”

“I still owe you a dinner so at least let me make that up to you before you completely write me off.”

She stretches out her feet and nearly touches his thighs with them, “Why should I give you a second chance?”

“Because you want to” The hand on the back of the couch falls to her sock-covered feet and drags them to fully rest on his lap.

Rolling her eyes, she scoffs, “No what I want to do is kick you out but I’m not entirely convinced you wouldn't sneak in through a window.”

“I wouldn’t need to because you wouldn’t do that. You like me too much.” 

She pulls her foot back slightly but his hand holds onto it tighter and stops her from pulling away. His touch is not unwelcomed however the protector inside of her screams for her to push him away. 

“Jesus every time you talk, circus music needs to play with how far-fetched some of the shit that comes out of your mouth is.” 

“You’re the one who needs circus music. I see the way you look at me, how your breathing hitches when you see me, how hot you get when I get closer,” his hand is dragging up to her ankle as he continues to mock her, “Don’t you think I can tell when I have an effect on you?” 

“You have the audacity of a middle-aged man who just got divorced,” she tries to deter him from moving his hand up by insulting him. 

 It has the desired effect and his hand freezes on her ankle, chilling her to the bone, “Do I look like a middle-aged man to you?” “No, you look like someone who’s wormed their way into my life and made it a living hell ever since then.”

“I can leave,” he offers, taking his hand off of her ankle and gently nudging her feet off his lap. 

The way he so casually offers to give her what he wants is a surprise, a shock even to her and it takes her a moment to process what he said. In the meantime, he takes his chance to look over her. Anxiety has taken away her ability to sleep and the circles under her eyes have grown more prominent in such a short amount of time. The way she slouches into the couch is also evidence of how stressed she’s become since learning of Alix’s arrival. It pains him to see her in disarray and turmoil but he knows he caused it. Had he taken the time to slowly reveal everything to her maybe she’d be doing better. Had he allowed her to feel comfortable around him so that when he finally did tell her, she would’ve sought comfort with him rather than with Yelena. He’d practically driven her into her arms so he had no right to feel any jealousy about their budding relationship but a part of him wanted to destroy it. 

“Do you want me to call Yelena?” he asks hesitantly. 

“No, it’s fine. You don’t have to leave. It’s just… It’s just a lot,” she sighs as she stares at her feet, “I wasn’t expecting her to find me and then for all this to happen. I just don’t know how to handle all of it and it’s not like I can tell Jessica. She wouldn’t understand.”

His nose involuntarily wrinkles at her name but Sunny doesn’t catch it. Sure she’s a lovely girl and a good friend to Sunny but she’s with Peter in some capacity. He tries not to show his annoyance as he speaks, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Make it all disappear so I can go back to my normal life,” she half-jokes as she drops her head against the back of the couch.

“I can do that. All you have to do is ask,” he jokes back, resting her hand on her ankle once again, “But I can’t make Strigoi or Lycan go away unfortunately.”

“Or bring my brother back,” slips out before she can stop it. A horrified look takes over her face when she realizes what came out but a soft expression overcomes his. 

“It will get easier even if it doesn’t seem like it right now,” he mutters while his thumb rubs small circles into the skin of her ankle.

“That’s what they all say but I don’t believe them. It’s been five years and it’s just gotten worse,” she glances down at his hand and then back up to him, “Did you have any siblings?”

“I did but that’s a story for a different time,” he tells her after checking his watch. 11:11 pm flashes back up at him and she tries to hide a yawn under her blanket but is unsuccessful. 

He gently pushes her feet off and stands, extending a hand down to her, “Come on, dragă. It’s time for you to get to bed.”

Furrowing her brows at his persistence, she obliges and takes his hand, nearly bumping into his chest from the force of him pulling her up. He smiles softly down at her as his arms enclose her to his chest. Once again they find themselves inches from each other with their noses nearly touching as he leans down. His breath fans over her lips as his barely brush against hers and she lifts onto her toes to meet his but he drops his head on her shoulder. Although she can’t see, he is squeezing his eyes shut to force the animal side of him back into its cage. 

“Hey,” she gently coaxes him to look at her, a hand cradling his face, “Bucky.”

The tender call of her voice brings him to his full height regardless of how much the voice in his head is screaming at him to stop. Black veins are retreating under his red eyes as he regains control of himself and awaits her reaction. The hand that cradles his face drifts over and her thumb brushes where the black veins once were. Her warm touch unthaws emotions deep within him he thought were lost to time and he finds himself dipping back down to catch her lips against his better judgment. 

He knows this can’t go on forever. It’s guaranteed that one of them will spend their days alone. They’d be lucky to get maybe 40 years together but one day, one of them will be gone. That doesn’t stop him from giving what he can to her in this kiss. All of the promises and emotions he can possibly convey are done with the flicker of his tongue and slide of his lips against hers. Her soft noises urge him to keep kissing her as if she alone will sustain him rather than the blood in her veins. His hands slide up her back and find their rightful place holding her face against his, deepening their kiss. 

Sunny stills as she pulls away and tilts her forehead against his, “We can’t do this.” 

Chuckling albeit in a sad manner, he agrees. Yelena is at the forefront of their minds and so are the implications of their relationship as humans and Strigoi. 

He expects her to pull away entirely but she doesn’t and instead, drags him back into a feverish kiss that ignites a fire he hasn’t felt in years. The black veins threaten to return and the red begs to flood the blue eyes she’s grown accustomed to seeing in her dreams. Fangs poke at her bottom lip and she smiles, gently kissing his nose as she pulls away. His natural state, one of animalistic desire, is terrifying to most however she is the exception. There is not a hint of fear and worry in her eyes as they stare up at him. The warmth that his body can no longer proceed is found there and a hint of emotion he prays will develop into more. 

“I need to go to bed.” 

He pauses to allow his body to regain its composure. Emotions overwhelm his thinking and words tumble out without hesitation. 

“I’ll give you every second I can find,” he whispers, voice hoarse and quiet. 

“I know,” she whispers back, drawing him into a hug, “Good night.”

[m00neroni]

hello

my name is Lu, and I am a nerd and sometimes I write fics. my current focus is marauders era and harry potter (fuck jkr). you can find my fics in my ao3 page or directly in this post, as well as my fandom opinions and other interests.

fandom opinions:

my main ships are wolfstar and jily (+ wolfstarbucks and wolfstarjily) I'm not big fan of multishipping but if that's your thing I have no problem with it.

remus, sirius, hermione and lily are my favourite characters. I will avoid any kind of bashing towards them and I prefer to keep it away from my spaces.

I also enjoy dorlene, tedromeda and fralice, as well as romione and hinny.

I'm not a big fan of remadora, but I love tonks and teddy and I believe that there are several ways to work around their dynamic without disrespecting the female character in favour of an mlm ship.

mainly, my characterisations are directly extracted from canon, but adjusted to the situation they are in. I don't enjoy the majority of current remus and sirius portrayals and I'm a bit picky, but I still ship them within their canon situation and outside from it.

you'll probably find me talking about mpreg, omegaverse and pregnant remus lupin, as well as about how sirius loves crosswords in canon (god, that man would have loved wordle.)

my fics

Coparenting With Benefits (omegaverse + mpreg/multichaper/wolfstar with background jily and bartylus/ongoing) - friends to lovers, pregnant remus lupin, romcom

It's Kind Of Obvious (one-shot/wolfstar/6k) - get together fic, non-voldemort au, fifth year

Defying Blood: The Untold Story of Remus Lupin and Sirius Black (multichapter/wolfstar and jily/ongoing) - canon divergence, lord black remus and consort lord sirius, werewolf (soul)mate bond, first wizaring war - written for the marauders with palestine project (slow updates)

Love At First Sight (A Statistical Probability) (multichapter/wolfstar/ongoing) - muggle au, meet cute, Christmas vibes (semi-hiatus coming back soon)

March 10th (one-shot/wolfstar/12k) - remus through his birthdays, canon divergence, autistic remus

The Voice That Urged Remus (multichapter/wolfstar/ongoing) - orpheus & eurydice inspired, mcd and hurt/comfort, EWE and eventual happy ending (slow updates)

welcome home, baby (we wish your parents had told us you were coming) (one-shot/wolfstar/4k - Wolfstar Bingo 2024) - muggle au, trans remus, adoption fic, implied mpreg

work call (pwp one-shot/wolfstar/4k - kinktober 2024) - dom/sub, bondage, edging

among my other interests you can find:

cosy videogames

hozier and noah kahan

marvel (wanda-dr strange-loki part of the current storyline and some ant-man here and there)

2000s romcoms + musicals

the hunger games and lord of the rings

highland cows (and cows in general)

heartstopper, outlander, game of thrones/house of the dragon, bridgerton, criminal minds

my favourite disney princess is Merida

art history, history, latin culture, greek myths, tudor era, mary I queen of scots

true crime and conspiracy theories

I was a theatre kid, so proceed with caution

that's it❤️

other links

twitter || tiktok || spotify

[katyswrites]

I have….questions. Do we know when the newest chapter will be out? Are we going to get a pregnant reader? Is Robin going to kick the reader’s ass? IS ROBIN GOING TO CALL STEVE AND CALL HIM A DINGUS?!

Hm… well, I don’t want to give too much away so I can’t say…. So for plot-related questions, I can’t confirm or deny anything. But… I’m a platonic Stobin fan first and a human second, so do with that what you will.

I don’t have a date for the next chapter, but I have about 4K written so far? So hopefully I’ll get it up soon. It’s a holiday weekend and I’m on my way to see Noah Kahan tonight, so once all the madness dies down… we’ll definitely be in writing mode! I’ll definitely make a post and update my navigation when I settle on a date!

[mikelogan]

pinned post ✨

tj (or taylor) || 28 || cis bi woman || she/her || wisconsin, usa || chronically ill/spoonie || gifmaker || i track #usertj so please feel free to tag me in your creations!

i was pcrrycox

what i post

art || brendan fraser || chernobyl hbo || fanart || greta van fleet || heartstopper || house md || hozier || law & order (original) || law & order criminal intent || law & order svu || looking hbo || midnight mass || mike flanagan || noah kahan || our flag means death || photography || scrubs || sex and the city || succession || supernatural || taylor swift || the good wife || the haunting of bly manor || the haunting of hill house || the hunger games || the last of us || the walking dead || trust fx || + many more

links

about me || answered asks || ao3 || audio || concerts || fave posts || for future reference ||  icons, edits, & gifs || jdox reclists || laugh rule || mike flanagan pay for my therapy || my face || my graphics/edits || my hobbies include || my polls || posts about/for me || ramblings (text posts) || scrubs thoughts || spoonie life || tag games || tagged || trans jd tag || videos || words

my etsy shop

my fiverr

gifs

all my gifs || 4k follower celebration || gif request meme || anastasia || bring it on || chernobyl hbo || dracula untold || fall out boy || frankie go boom || garden state || house md || interview with the vampire (1994) || jurassic world || kingsman || law & order || law & order: criminal intent || looking hbo || lord of the rings || meaghan trainor || midnight mass || moulin rouge || office space || paramore || purple rain || red dragon || rocky horror || saving hope || scrubs || se7en || sex and the city || silence of the lambs || stan against evil || stick it || succession || taylor swift || the good wife || the haunting of bly manor || the haunting of hill house || the last of us || the originals || the princess diaries || this is 40 || twenty one pilots || van helsing || will & grace || wish i was here

please feel free to send me an ask or a message any time! i’m open to gif requests as well, though i can’t always guarantee i’ll do them. please always remember to be kind!

[jakeperalta]

LUCKYYY my noah kahan show sold out before I made it out of the queue

it's crazy how fast the whole uk/europe leg sold out 😳😳 for me it's the same venue where I couldn't get sabrina tickets and I think it can be so tough when an artist is essentially too big for a venue of that size (~4k) but then the next size up is like 15-16k arenas which are too big. I'm so lucky I got a good place in the queue and even then I only managed to grab some by hitting "search again" probably 500 times

[karaoke-near-me-usa]

Noah Kahan - Stick Season (Karaoke Version) 4k

[4knoah]

UHD | Noah Kahan, Railbird Music Festival, June '24

[4knoah]

UHD | Noah Kahan & Olivia Rodrigo, Guts World Tour, April '24

[4knoah]

Noah Kahan at the Pilgrimage Music & Cultural Festival 📸 Jason Kempin, September 29, 2024

[4knoah]

UHD | Noah Kahan, We'll All Be Here Forever Tour, Nashville, May '24

[4knoah]

UHD | Noah Kahan, Leeds, February '24

[4knoah]

UHD | Noah Kahan, Leeds, February '24