#this is all baby level discussion it annoys me that these things have to be said but whatev

[mymarifae]

once again people taking my post(s) about jade as... me not being able to handle an evil woman character? ??? are we all stupid? i talk about jade the way i do because there is a prevailing notion in this damn fandom that she's done nothing wrong. people scream "i love evil women!!!!!!" and "girlboss!!!!!!!" and refuse to engage with her actions in the story on any other level and it results in this bizarre mischaracterization of her where she's, ironically enough, no longer evil. like if you love evil women so much why... why do you keep uneviling them every time we get one in a story. hello? it's so dark in here

[inkskinned]

what is with men being mad any time a woman raises her voice where did that even come from. someone posted a video of a small electrical explosion, and the top comment was of course the woman screams. the second comment is women try not to scream challenge, level impossible. i had to go back and watch the video again. there is, somewhat fainty, a little gasp emitted off-camera, more of a yelp than a scream. it is mostly lost in the crack of the explosion. afterwards, you hear her voice, shaken, say, are you okay?

i am helping one of my friends train her voice pitch lower, because she wants to be taken seriously at work. she and i do each other's nails and talk about gender roles; and how - due to our appearance - neither of us have ever been able to be "hysterical" in public. we both appear young and sweet and feminine. she is cisgender, and cannot use her natural voice in her profession because people keep saying she appears to be "vapid". we both try to figure out if our purposeful voice lowering is technically sexist. is it promoting something when you are a victim to it?

a storm almost sends a pole through a car window. in the dashcam, you can hear the woman passenger say her partner's name twice, crying out in alarm. she sounds terrified. in the comments, she is lambasted for her lack of calm. how is that even fucking helping?

in high school, i taught myself to have a lower voice. i had been recorded when i was genuinely (and righteously) upset; and i hated how my voice sounded on the phone speakers when it was played back. i was defending my mom, and my voice cracked with emotion. it meant i was no longer winning the argument: i was just shrieking about it.

girls meet each other after a long summer and let out a little joyful scream. this usually stops around 12-14, because people will not tolerate this display of affection (as it has the effect of being passingly annoying). something about the fact that little girls can't ever even be annoying. we are trained to examine each part of our lives (even joy) for anything that could make us upsetting and disgusting. they act like teenage girls are breaking into houses and shrieking you awake at 3 in the morning. speaking as a public school educator: trust me, it's not that bad, you can just roll your eyes and move on. it does not compare to the ways boys end up being annoying: slurs in graffiti, purposefully mocking your body, following you after you said no. you know, just boy things.

there's another video of a man who is not allowed to yell in the house, so he snaps his fingers when he's excited about soccer. the comments are full of angry men, talking about how their brother is unfairly caged. let him express himself and this is terrible to do to someone. eventually the couple has to address it in a second video: they are married with a newborn baby. he was trying not to wake the infant up. there is no comment on the fact women are not allowed to yell indoors. or the fact that it could have been really alarming or triggering for his wife. sometimes i wonder if straight men even like women, if they even enjoy being in relationships with them.

for the longest time, i hated roller coasters because it always felt inappropriate and uncomfortable for me to scream. one of my friends called me on it, said it was unusual i'm so unwilling. i had to go to my therapist about it. i don't like to scream because i was not raised in a safe situation, and raising my voice would have brought unsafe attention towards me. even when i am supposed to scream, it feels shameful, guilty. i was not treated kindly, so i lack a basic form of self-protection. this is not a natural response. it is not good that in a situation of high adrenaline - i shut up about it.

something very bad is happening, i think. in between all the beauty standards and the stuff i've already discussed - this one feels new and cruel in a way i can't quite express. yes, it's scary and silencing. but there's something about how direct it is - that so many men agree with the sentiment that women should never yell, even in an emergency - it feels different.

is the word shriek gendered automatically? how about shrill or screech? in self defense class, one of the first things they tell you is to yell, as loud and as shrilly as you can. they say it will feel rude. most women will not do this. you need to practice overcoming the social pressure and just scream.

most women do not cry out, even when it's bad. we do not report it. we walk faster. we do not make a scene. what would be the point of doing anything else? no matter what we do, we don't get taken seriously. it is a joke to them. an instagram caption punchline. we have to present ourselves as silent, beautiful, captivating - "valuable."

a woman is outside watching her kids when someone throws a firecracker at them. she screams and runs towards her children. in the comments, grown men flock together in the thousands: god. women are so annoying.

[chaosology]

benched

— Sam Kerr x reader

based off this request, i hope you like it :) masterlist, gimme feedback!!!

warnings: pregnancy? slight injury to reader

“She’s getting so big now,” Sam sighed, “What is it now, an avocado?”

Her fingers traced the swell of your stomach, lightly tapping the beat of whatever song was stuck in her head. You and Sam had gotten incredibly lucky, your first round of IVF being successful and resulting in one of the most beautiful celebrations of your life.

“Sami, they said it’s probably a girl, we can be sure!! What if he’s just sneaky?”

Sam just laughed, rolling over to pull herself out of bed. This game would determine if you made it into the quarter finals of the World Cup, and your entire team had been training rigorously for it. The pregnancy had remained under wraps until just after the first trimester, when Alanna had caught you puking in a bush for the third time that week.

The pregnancy had been a hot topic of discussion among you and the team officials. They weren’t allowed to decide when you would stop playing and take leave, but you and Sam had talked privately to decide that you’d rest when the World Cup ended. The rough nature of the game put you at a level of risk you and Sam weren’t willing to take; and if you were being honest, the break was well deserved. You’d given your all for so long and wanted nothing more than to lay in bed all day, watching Sam play and browsing whatever shit reality shows were currently trending.

The little bump just barely peaked through your jersey, a small reminder of your love always with you. Admittedly, the influx of hormones had knocked your emotions around a bit - much to Sam’s enjoyment. You cried at commercials and got snappy with her over small things like the smell of her coffee, and it was probably the most adorable thing she’d ever witnessed.

The stadium was alive with the thrill of the match. The girls battled fiercely, determination evident in every pass, every tackle, and every movement on the field. Your movements were quick and calculated, darting in between the opposition to pass the ball over to Hayley.

In an instant you were on the floor, too shocked to even comprehend what had happened. The medics were on you in an instant, Sam having let them know before the tournament that you were pregnant and took priority. The pain wasn’t unbearable, radiating down your back to your legs. The other girl that tumbled was checking on you, apologising over and over. It was a genuine mistake, and you didn’t hold any ill will towards her. Half time had just been called, and so the rest of the team had come make sure you were doing alright.

Sam was also by your side, triple checking you were ok. She was stressing beyond belief, not just for you but your baby.

“You need to come off, love.”

“Huh? No, I’m fine. I’m- We’re fine.”

“No, you’re done,” Sam’s voice was firm, laced with concern. “I know we talked about it, but we cant keep taking these risks. The way you went down… It could’ve been bad.”

You were starting to get annoyed now. Hormones were making you more fired up than normal, and you got defensive quick.

“No. No, you can’t tell me what to do. I’m not made of glass-”

"No arguments," Sam's interruption was unwavering, her eyes locking onto yours with determined resolve. She knew you were annoyed, but she wasn’t willing to risk it anymore. She could also pull the Captain card if she wanted.

Your eyes were glazed over with a quick building fury. You were both too strong willed for your own good and it was quickly becoming tense.

“I’m your captain, Y/N. You’re done. I won't let anything happen to you or our baby."

You had only pushed her hand away and walked off, angry tears falling down your cheek as you sat down with a huff. Sam’s palm ran down her face as she sighed. She knew in her heart it was the right decision, but she couldn’t help the sinking feeling in her chest when she saw you cry.

You had spent the rest of the game in a mood, your head resting in your hands as you glared at Sam. You knew it was irrational, you knew she cared - but right now, it was just an overwhelming flood of emotions. The win and cheers that erupted as the penalty kick went through fell on deaf ears as you shrunk in on yourself, now nauseated too. Perhaps the baby was angry too. Fair enough.

Sam’s eyes met yours as she jogged over, leaving the celebration in the centre of the pitch. Still moody, you looked down at the ground and kicked your feet, twirling your wedding ring as you did so.

“I know you’re mad. I’m sorry.” her hushed voice let out. You offered only a scoff in response, becoming more and more engrossed in the ring by the second.

“Hey, look at me”, she reached out, her hand grabbing your chin. “Look at me, Y/N.”

You let her move you like a doll, your chin tilted up as she hovered over you. If you weren’t still trying to be mad, you’d definitely tell her it was hot - time and place, unfortunately.

“I’m sorry I was strict. I’m your captain and your wife, I’m just looking out for you and our girl… I got scared, I’m sorry if it wasn’t what you wanted. But you’re my responsibility on this field, and I’ll make any move possible to stop you from getting hurt.”

You were embarrassed now. All she did was care while you were stubborn and proud.

“I’m sorry,” you sniffled “I was so awful, I didn’t mean it. I know you’re doing what’s best”

“Hey, hey,” her fingers lightly tracing your jawline as your face “don’t say that about yourself. You’re making a person, Y/N. Our baby. Your body’s doing all these crazy things, it’s ok to let it get to you sometimes.”

Your eyes welled up again as she brought you in for a kiss. The stress left your body as you relaxed into her.

She stepped back, pulling you up to meet here eye. “Come celebrate with us, you got us here too.”

You giggled, letting her pull you back to the pitch with a skip in your step. The girls were hugging and crying, yelling all sorts of things at the top of their lungs. You and Sam made your way into the middle of the group, hand in hand with smiles as large as life.

“Don’t think I didn’t hear you call baby a girl, Sam. You owe me fifty if it’s a boy!”

[lemonlover1110]

Baby Steps

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 29] Growing Family

← Previous Chapter - Story Masterlist

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

*this is really the last chapter, thanks for sticking with me in this cute adventure🥹

Seven years after Seiji is born, you constantly find yourself thinking about destiny and your first discussion with Satoru about it. Neither of you are sure, but you’re happy that this is how your life turned out. You love waking up next to him as his wife and proceeding to start off your day with him and your kids. With your seven-year-old Seiji and your five-year-old Saori. 

You both have teaching jobs– Of course, they’re very different. Satoru teaches three teenagers, one of them being Megumi, while you teach a classroom full of at least twenty second graders. Satoru always tells you that you’re one of the reasons he decided he wanted to become a teacher, apart from the part that he’s the strongest (you still have no idea what he means) and that’s his duty. You have a much bigger home than before; yet neither Megumi nor Tsumiki live with you anymore so many rooms are empty, however, considering the fact that you have two young children, the house is still very lively.

Satoru still had a great idea to fill up the empty rooms, and that’s how you find yourself expecting your third child with him. You swear to Satoru this is the last baby you’ll have, but that’s what you said when you gave birth to Saori. It’s easy to forget how bad pregnancy and childbirth are when you watch Satoru being the best possible father to your kids.

“Daddy, can you help with my homework?” Seiji asks, even though you’re the one that teaches his grade level and knows what his teacher is teaching. Apparently you’re great at explaining things but daddy just does it better, and you feel your eyes roll to the back of your head as you watch Seiji approach his father with the notebook. 

“Sure thing, buddy. Wait till Saori finishes with my nails.” Satoru answers, watching as his daughter paints his pinky nail a blue color. She was going for pink since it’s her favorite color but then she decided that blue would match his eyes (in reality she couldn’t find the pink nail polish and didn’t want to admit that she lost it). It’s fine though, her father will just buy her another one. “Wow, look at you. You’re doing such a great job.”

“I know.” Saori answers, so focused on not making a mess and painting her father’s whole finger. Satoru manipulates his infinity every time that she’s clearly about to paint his whole finger. 

“Saori, will you hurry up?” Seiji asks, clearly annoyed. He wants to get finished with his homework so he can watch TV, since you told him he could watch his show after he was finished with homework. You offered to help, but he turned you down.

“Don’t rush your sister, Seiji.” Satoru says, and he watches how Saori sticks her tongue out at her brother, causing Satoru to sigh. “Don’t stick your tongue out at your brother, Saori.”

“I can help you, Seiji.” You pop into the living room, where your husband and kids are. You find yourself bored for once in your life because Satoru took care of everything.

“It’s okay.” Seiji responds, making you pout. He does usually accept your help, but during your third pregnancy you’ve been a victim of pregnancy brain. You don’t think you’ve ever felt dumber, so stupid that even your seven-year-old notices.

“Saori, honey, will you paint my nails next.” You say and she perks up. For the first time Satoru fails, not turning his infinity on and getting nail polish all over his finger. She smiles brightly and nods her head.

“I’m done with you, daddy.” Saori tells her father, and he laughs as he looks at the unfinished hand. He stands up and walks over to Seiji to help him with his homework. You take Satoru’s seat and extend your hand to your daughter. “Do you want blue as well, mommy?”

“What other colors do you have?” You ask.

“I used to have pink.” She replies, which makes you laugh. She doesn’t have it anymore so you don’t see the point in bringing it up. She begins to paint your nails, and she’s awfully concentrated until she finally speaks up, “When’s my baby brother or sister getting here?”

“Around two more months.” You answer. You’re due in December, a little while after Satoru’s birthday. A month after her birthday. “Are you excited to be a big sister, honey?”

“Yeah.” She answers. She’s focused, therefore, she can’t talk. You stare at her, watch how concentrated she is. She has to push her white hair out of her face since it covers her vision. The more you stare at her, the more you realize how neither of your kids look like you and you hope that the third time around you give birth to your twin. “When’s my birthday?”

“In a month.” You respond since you won’t count down the weeks until her sixth birthday. You can’t believe just how fast she’s growing up, it feels just like yesterday when you found out that you were pregnant with your baby girl. You smile, watching as she paints your whole finger. Satoru has shown you his infinity, yet you still find yourself surprised how she never messes up Satoru’s nails. “Woah, you completely missed the nail there.”

“Sorry.” She apologizes yet she continues to make the same mistake. You aren’t paying too much attention to it, you just listen to Satoru explain to your son how to do his homework. You’re sure that you could explain it better, but you still smile. You never really thought you’d be here seven years later, but here you are.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

-

Satoru isn’t the type of man that goes to bed early– Well, he wasn’t. Up until he had two babies under two and ever since he had to handle a very energetic Seiji and a crybaby Saori, he’s been going to bed since eight at night. When you put both of your kids to bed, you both go to bed as well. His head barely touches the pillow and he’s passed out.

This specific night though, when his head touches the pillow, a scream comes from his daughter’s room and he sprints out of bed and to her room. He literally just put her to bed, there’s no way that she already had a nightmare. Seiji isn’t much of a prankster either so he’s ready to kill just about anyone.

Satoru finds his little girl with her knees to her chest. She buries her head in her knees, and she covers her ears. Satoru looks around, turning on the light. He’s about to ask what’s wrong since his eyes don’t see anything, but he feels the energy. His eyes land on the half open closet and he begins to walk towards it.

“Is everything okay, Saori–” Seiji comes running into the room after hearing his sister scream. He’s much slower than his father, but regardless he’s here.

“Go to your room, Seiji. Take your sister.” Satoru orders and Seiji does as instructed, even though it takes some effort to get Saori out of the room but he succeeds. Satoru fully opens the closet and a sigh leaves his body seeing the small curse. Nothing scary to him, but surely scary for his baby girl. 

He exorcizes the curse with no issue before walking out of the room and going to Seiji’s room. Seiji comforts his little sister, who’s trying to hide under the blue blanket that Seiji let her borrow. There’s a frown on Satoru’s face as he walks over to his babies and sits on the edge of the twin bed. He engulfs his kids in a hug.

“I’m sorry you saw that, Saori.” Satoru mutters. He feels guilty that the curse that he holds is passed down to his children. He’s known they can see them, but he tries to protect them as much as he can. Sometimes he can’t though. Satoru’s parents want him to start training his son as well, after all, Seiji is a descendent of the Gojo clan but Satoru doesn’t want to do that. He wants his kids to be free of this all. 

That’s not his decision to make though.

“Everything’s gonna be okay while daddy is here.” Satoru reassures them. He kisses the top of their heads, and just holds them while he can.

“What happened?” You show up a little too late. Getting up from your bed is the hardest exercise that you face lately. Satoru chuckles, it’s not like you’re really going to understand anyway. He doesn’t want you to.

“The kids are sleeping with us tonight, honey.” Satoru says, picking both Seiji and Saori from the bed and carrying them to your bedroom. You slowly follow behind, already out of breath by simply getting up from bed and going to Seiji’s bedroom.

When you stand in the doorway, you watch how Satoru tucks them in the middle of the bed, filling their faces up with kisses. Maybe it wasn’t exactly planned, but you’re glad you’re with him and the fact that he’s the father of your kids. Now, as his wife, you can’t imagine spending the rest of your days with someone else and you can’t imagine a father more perfect than him– Of course he has his flaws but they hardly poke through.

He often asks if you think he’s doing well as a parent, worried that he’s messing everything up. You can’t even begin to say how proud you are of him, and how you think he’s a far better parent than you are. He loves to remind them that their father is always there to help them, protect them, and love them. Maybe that’s why you agreed to have a third child with him, plus the process is always fun.

“I love you two so much.” Satoru says, and while he should lay down with them, he’s no longer tired, and when he looks back at you it seems like you aren’t tired anymore either. “We’ll be right back, do you want to watch some TV for a bit?”

They nod their heads and Satoru turns the television on. They’re too agitated to go to sleep as well. Letting them stay up for half an hour isn’t the end of the world. He then walks over to you, and throws his arm over your shoulder. You walk out of the room and go downstairs to the living to sit down for a moment and talk. It’s rare that you find yourself alone to just talk.

When you take a seat, a moan leaves your lips, and he furrows his brow. You grab his hand and put it over your belly, and your baby doesn’t waste time kicking. No matter how many times he’s felt it, it always amazes him. He always looks so in awe, and he doesn’t remove his hand until his baby kicks a couple more times. He then pecks your lips, muttering, “Thank you so much for this.”

“Enjoy it while it lasts because this is the last time we’ll have a kid.” You tell him, and he sweetly smiles at you, pecking your lips again. You rest your head on his shoulder for a minute, and he enjoys the moment. You appreciate the unusual silence. You’ve gotten used to so much noise, and you’ll grow to miss it if you sit in silence for too long. You still appreciate it.

“How’s Kaya?” He asks, interrupting the silence.

“She’s planning the baby shower. She’s going crazy.” You respond, and you hear him chuckle.

“Isn’t she due soon? She shouldn’t be stressing over a baby shower.” He says and you hum in response. You wouldn’t know either way, you opted out for a baby shower the second time around since you were already stressed enough planning a wedding and handling Seiji. Every time you’re reminded, you laugh due to the fact that your father was right about the fact that Satoru would knock you up months after Seiji’s birth.

“She’s due around Halloween– Maybe two weeks before Saori’s birthday.” You answer. That’s so soon, Satoru only prays that her water doesn’t break during the baby shower and that he has to handle all the chaos. Satoru knows Daisuke is absolutely freaking out about it all; Satoru knows that feeling all too well, he’s still freaking out even though this is his third baby.

“Our baby will finally have a little cousin this time around.” Satoru comments and you chuckle. Seiji didn’t need a cousin, he had his younger sister. This new baby doesn’t though, and you’re adamant on not having more kids which he understands since he’s not the one that carries them for nine months.

“What ended up happening in the kid’s room?” You ask, and Satoru takes a long minute to answer. There’s no point in lying. He lied so much to you when you first met, he can’t do that anymore while you’re his wife. You swore you’d leave him if you ever caught him in a lie again, and now he tells you the truth even when you can’t see it. He doesn’t see the point in telling you a problem that you can’t solve.

“Well… Uhm… A curse.” He answers, and you remove your head from his shoulder. You slowly nod your head in response, and you aren’t really sure how to answer that other than,

“Oh yeah…” There’s some things that you’ll never understand about them nor about your husband. You don’t like to think about the fact that there are some issues that you’ll never be able to help them out with, only Satoru can help them.

You sit in absolute silence for a minute as you get lost in your thoughts. Satoru watches you, wondering what goes on in your mind.

“Are you okay?” He asks, and you sigh. You can’t try to play it off as if you’re okay because you expect him to remain honest with you, it’s hypocritical to lie to him.

“Yeah, it’s just… What if you aren’t around and a similar issue comes up. How would I handle that?” You ask, and he wraps his arm around you, bringing you in for a hug. He kisses the top of your head, his hand going down to rest on your belly. “I just feel useless for some stuff, Satoru.”

“You aren’t useless, baby.” He responds. He doesn’t want for you to think about this– He doesn’t want to think that you’re useless in any way. It makes him recall an incident from five years ago, and he hid the truth to not worry you. “Can I confess a lie I told you?”

“Better be from before we got married.” There’s a frown on your face, and Satoru chuckles.

“You remember when Seiji was three and Saori two, how they went running to you crying about a bug that you could not find?” Satoru asks, and you remember the incident clear as day. You were scared shitless but you still went after the bug to kill it; when you couldn’t find it and they kept crying about it, you just comforted them while Satoru dealt with the problem. “There wasn’t a bug, it was a curse. But you still managed to deal with the problem, even when you didn’t know what it was.”

“That does make me feel better.” You smile at him before kissing his lips. “I love you. You always know the right thing to say.”

“I love you too, baby.”

-

“Seiji, stop!” Saori yells at her brother who keeps messing around with her tiara. You’ve already struggled getting into a kangaroo onesie to go out with them, you’re already far too tired to stop their bickering. You have no idea why you agreed to go trick-or-treating with them, you doubt you can walk too much. In your defense, you promised you’d do it two months ago, and your circumstances now are much different than before. You should’ve known that by Halloween you’d be in a much different mood. You only glance at Satoru, who lays down on the bed and stares at the phone, and he stands up to deal with it. “Seiji!”

“Seiji, what are you doing?” Satoru yells, walking out of the bedroom to go to where his kids are at. Satoru crosses his arm as he looks down at the seven-year-old who wears a superhero costume, ready to go trick-or-treating. Seiji tries to play it off as if he’s doing nothing, but he’s holding his sister’s tiara in his hands. Satoru sternly says, “Give it back and apologize.”

Seiji drags his feet, walking over to his sister to give her back her tiara. When Saori gets her tiara back, she runs to her father’s side and hugs him. He picks his little princess up from the floor and kisses her forehead. She sticks her tongue out at Seiji, making Satoru sigh and say, “Don’t do that.”

“Mommy! Saori is being mean to me!” He yells, hoping to have a parent by his side. You’re forced to leave your room to deal with it, even after your efforts of not dealing with it.

“What’s happening?” You ask. You look at Satoru and Saori before looking down at Seiji. Before Seiji responds, Satoru says,

“I got it handled, honey.” He puts Saori down on the floor again, “Apologize to your brother, Saori.”

“What for?” She responds, giving her father doe-eyes, which always work. He looks away, at his son.

“Apologize to Seiji for sticking your tongue out at him.” Saori crosses her arms before dramatically turning to her brother. She mutters an apology which is good enough for the minor offense. When you’re no longer needed, you begin to walk away, but you don’t get too far before your name is called again.

“Is Megumi still going with us?” Seiji asks, and you nod your head in response. You then look at your husband.

“Change. We have to get going soon so we get home early.” You order, and Satoru has no option but to do as you say. That’s what he signed up for when he chose to marry you. 

When you’re back in your room, you lay down on your bed, grabbing a picture frame that’s beside your bed and looking over it because every time Megumi is brought up you’re reminded of the little family you had six years ago. It’s an old photo of baby Seiji, Megumi, and Tsumiki. Looking at Tsumiki’s precious smile almost always makes you cry, and when the tears well up, they spill as you laugh at Megumi’s awful smile.

Maybe you should’ve appreciated those times more, but you had a lot on your plate. It’s not like you can stop time or stop awful things from happening. You’re still happy with your life right now.

The picture frame is snatched from your hands, and you glare at your husband. He looks at the picture before he puts it down on the nightstand. He leans down, and kisses you, “Don’t start getting sentimental now, it’ll ruin your night.”

“I’ll try not to.” You respond. He takes a seat on your side of the bed, his hands resting on your belly.

“I got a call.” He announces, and it makes your brows raise. He clears his throat, “We’ll have to go trick or treating without me. It’s an emergency.”

“Oh?” You reply. You want to be upset about it, but you know he doesn’t do it on purpose. Satoru is the first one to be bummed out about missing time with his kids. “I can take the kids out.”

“No! I want you to stay here till I get home.” He sounds defensive, and you know better. It’s rare when Satoru says no, so you’ll listen. He pecks your lips, telling you, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” His head goes down and he presses a couple of kisses on your belly before he promises,

“I promise, I’ll be back as soon as possible. We gotta take these kids trick-or-treating together.”

[shyinsunlight]

You call yourself a Regulus stan while you publicly hate talk about Jegulus? You don’t deserve him.

oh, anon.

the only reason i answer this is because i think i know who you are. and i think you sent me this because i pissed you off with an incest joke after you told me to seek therapy for shipping tomarry.

i don’t deserve him? why, you do? he’s a fictional character from a children’s book series where we have like 4 lines of canon about him. he’s. not. real. is it perhaps time to take a step back and ask yourself why you’re getting so worked up about an internet stranger’s interpretation of an imaginary person?

about regulus, jegulus, and why we need to touch grass

i don’t bash ships (publicly) because that’s not what fandom should be about. it should be a creative safe space where we can all enjoy our interests without getting annoying hate anons/harassment for it.

i have several fandom friends who are jegulus shippers, and—surprise—we get along amazingly. we respect each other’s preferences, don’t force our ships on each other, and can have intelligent discussions without losing our shit. they write their thing, i write mine, and somehow, the world’s still spinning. wild concept, i know.

it’s not a secret that i don't like jegulus. it means that i filter it out as a tag, and i don’t engage with jegulus content. i keep vibing in my corner of the internet, enjoying the interpretations i actually like. so why are you, and numerous other jegulus shippers so obsessed with forcing your interpretation on me and on others? what gives you the right to bash me for shipping tomarry while demanding that i accept jegulus as gospel truth?

it’s genuinely unfair how a vocal minority can taint the reputation of an entire ship community, especially when there are so many jegulus shippers who do nothing but quietly enjoy their content and respect others’ boundaries.

let’s be real here for a second. jegulus is the textbook definition of a crack ship. james, who canonically despised everything the black family stood for, who’s best friend is sirius (who literally ran away from that family), who fought against blood supremacy and everything regulus believed in… would he fall for his best friend’s baby brother who was actively choosing to be a death eater? 

and regulus, who thought blood traitors were beneath him, who probably saw james as the person who corrupted his brother and turned him against his family, who’s partly responsible for regulus losing sirius… would he want to date him? touch him, at all? 

these two would never even want to talk to each other, let alone be involved romantically. regulus most likely thought james wasn’t even worth being spat on—and james would’ve seen regulus as nothing but another blood purity-obsessed mini death eater who hurt his best friend.

making this ship work requires completely butchering both regulus’ and james’ characters into something that’s further away from canon than draco malfoy working in lululemon as a soft-spoken slam poetry major.

imagine having such a surface-level understanding of regulus’ character that you think the most interesting thing about him is his potential to be james’ boyfriend… regulus, who:

grew up believing he was superior to others 

was the spare heir until he suddenly had to shoulder all the family expectations after sirius left (and since we’re here, yes, he probably felt the need to overcompensate after this. i personally don’t see how it leads to him wanting to make out with james in broom closets, but you do you) 

had such a complicated relationship with his brother which deserves so much more exploration than reducing him to ending up dating his best friend

was so devoted to voldemort that he put up posters in his little fanboy lair

willingly joined a terrorist organisation

was kind to kreacher yet still gave him to voldemort for “testing”

made one single good decision in the end 

he wasn’t misunderstood, and that’s not what his story is about. it’s about choices, consequences, and what it means to finally do the right thing for once even when it costs you everything. (also, he failed even in that because he just made it all worse for everyone else later. he's a flop and i love him for that.)

listen, i get it. fanon is fun!! headcanons are fun!! i write many au fics, and i totally understand the appeal of playing with characterisation and what ifs. but there’s a “hey, this is my fun interpretation about this” and an “if you don’t accept my interpretation then fuck you, you’re fake, you don’t deserve him.”

SHIP AND LET SHIP

[studentbyday]

week 2: she lives! she breathes! she’s beautifully unconventional (aka getting my mojo back)

Real courage is in trying to stay calm despite the chaos happening around and within you.

I have to keep swimming even if I don't know if my efforts will bear the fruits I expect (so far, since leaving high school, nothing about my life path has gone the way I expected. and that's just what real life is sometimes). There is meaning and purpose in the process (the fact that I keep taking baby steps towards my goals is already an achievement worth taking pride in! 👣).

Academics:

Read course announcements

Signed up for global health group

Wrote down meeting dates

Finished M1 global health (so...remember how i said some of it felt kind of "woo-woo" to me? well. we're past that now. things just got real. it might be a bs course aimed at ticking that "is empathetic and cares about humanity" checkbox for premed students applying to med school, but! global health is genuinely important and dammit if i don't treat it like the serious and important issue it is, then who am i? [context: the discussion post assignments i had to do for this week reminded me of why i'm taking this course...beyond the fact that it's required for health sci and supposedly birdy 😅])

Finished M1 immunology by Tuesday

Finished M2 immunology by Thursday

Started M2 microbiology

Reviewed some immunology flashcards

Completed microbiology quiz

Finished first pathology assignment but still have to check the last question and send tmr 🙈

Completed first two global health assignments

Completed immunology quiz

Dropped cell phys course

the amount of content i have to remember in each course is insane so i've resorted to using screenshots of the slides in my flashcards which in theory should allow me to focus more on actually reviewing the flashcards. sometimes i forget tho. and that's annoying because (a) it slows me down and (b) because my keyboard keys keep getting stuck and it hasn't been given a proper clean in ages and every time i use it it's a reminder of yet another thing i haven't done yet 😅

Health:

Pilates x3

Yoga x1

Journal x3

Meditate x4

Other life things:

Changed bedding

Laundry

Reading (designing your life / the secret adversary)

Morning nature walk and sniff 🌲 (i have been taking for granted the little pleasures i'm lucky to have in my life in the busy-ness of school. i'm glad i made a good morning bingo i can look back on to remind me of some of them. 🥺😌)

Cleaned house

Met up with some family friends

Music in My Head:

Unravel

Show

Changes (i always forget the name of this song even tho it never changes lol 😅 but i love it and the frogs sm)

Watashi wa saikyou

Träumerei

Things I'm looking forward to:

Waking up without feeling sleepy ✨

Learning stuff I need for the lab-hopeful 🤓

More pilates 💓 (the slow kind because i get to notice to how alive i feel instead of how i feel like i'm dying because it's too fast and difficult for my level 😂 and yet when i go slow, i'm still getting stronger! 💪🏻😃)

Learning the pathology of leukemia 🔬

Applying my newfound immunology knowledge to the first assignment on covid 👩🏻‍🔬

Being done with all my work for the week 😌

My not-bingo bingo so far this September:

[littledollll]

Hi there! I was wondering if I could request a Larissa Weems x fem reader fic? Reader is an outcast too, she can control people's dreams (for better or for worse) however she can't control her own, and she's the language teacher at Nevermore and her and Larissa have been dating for a little while now. One night she has a really bad nightmare about something from the past, Larissa manages to wake her up from it; as reader had been clawing at her own skin, making it bleed etc and when she wakes up larissa has her arms pinned and is trying to calm her down? Like laying on top of her trying to level out her breathing, kissing her cheek as she whispers "You're okay, you're okay." Like Larissa baby-ing her, that kind of thing? I'm sorry if this is a little long

I’ll keep you safe

Larissa Weems x outcast!reader

Warnings: annoying teenagers٫ Stress٫ nightmares٫ unintentional self harm(it’s not too focused on), being physically restrained, idk what else

A/n: Anon i have to say, i loved this request so much i got down like 6 paragraphs in about 10 minutes, instant ideas so thank you!!, I chose Spanish since you didn’t specify and it’s my first language (in short im lazy)

“We’re doing oral reports in two weeks! I want you all to pick a topic of interest and do research on it, this will have to include a progress turn in every two days, I don’t want you guys doing it all last minute, that’s one grade. Then your written work, just what you’re going to say up front so I can follow along and assist you when you need it! That’s another grade. The final grade will be your oral report, there’s different criteria I will be reviewing but that will be in a handout I’ll give you guys on Monday we will discuss it then!”

You can hear the collective groaning and complains coming from all sides of the class, “wait when do the two weeks start”, people trying to convince you to do something else, “Would you consider adding more time?”, those asking if they can skip the oral part and just to the other two things, and the two or three going “oh does it have to be in Spanish” like it’s not the whole point of the class and assignment.

“It will be three easy grades don’t let me down guys! Yes I know how much you guys hate it but it’s in the curriculum and you will need this depending on what you want to do in the future. You! Yes my love we can negotiate the turn in period, don’t worry”

“No I am not changing the assignment! No you can’t NOT do the oral report, you will lose a full grade unless you can give me a justified reason as to why you can’t speak up front. Yes it has to be in Spanish that’s the whole point, please calm down!”

“I will give you all nightmares if you don’t stop complaining!” The whole class went silent. Finally. “But I can just as easily help you guys out if you just behave and ask nicely. As I said the details will all be discussed on Monday so stop screaming at me, class time is already over, we could all be in our rooms by now if you guys didn’t throw a tantrum”

Your abilities as an outcast were something you genuinely loved about yourself, being able to control others dreams came in handy more than you’d think. You’d use dreams to give extra practice for those who asked (which was mostly the music, choir, theater kids), those who needed extra study time for tests, when you knew your students needed comfort or a safe space, specially since you could allow them to remember their dreams. It being the last class of the day you dismissed them and headed to Larissa’s office.

————————————————————

Once you came in Larissa greeted you. “You seem rather annoyed.. stressed? did something happen, beloved?”

“Just my last class, I assigned oral reports and they are not happy about it, i mean they were basically screaming at me about it, I love them, really, I do but they don’t know how to listen!” You sighed, coming around her desk and wrapping your arms around her behind her chair.

“Who would have thought advanced Spanish students would hate Spanish so much! I know it’s not personal but the way they groan and complain isn’t that encouraging either, just makes me feel like I’m doing everything wrong.”

Larissa’s hands soothed over your arms, taking one of your hands in hers and kissing it. “You’re the cool teacher, they aren’t used to not doing “fun” things in class, they’ll come around٫ love. Is there anything I could help you with?”

You groaned, hiding in her neck. “No, you’re right, I’m sure they’ll be better Monday once I explain.” Larissa nodded.

“30 minutes and we’ll get out of here, alright?” Teachers got out one hour before the principal, leaving you to wait for her everyday. You nodded and went over to one of the armchairs٫ pulling out your phone and deciding to answer emails.

You whined, dramatically putting your head on her desk, she chuckled. “More complains?” “You think they understand what “I’ll explain on Monday” means?”

They were stressing you out even more, and in your experience٫ Stress means nightmares.

————————————————————

“Love?” Larissa woke up to your squirming she thought you just couldn’t sleep, then she heard the whimpers, from there it somehow got worse so fast. The way your hands gripped your arms, your hair, how you curled into yourself, what broke Larissa out of her trance was a sob that tore through your throat. It was enough to spring her into action as she forced the sleep from her mind.

She was trying to be gentle, you were scared enough, frantic, she didn’t want any sudden movements to hurt her or you. First she tried to grab one arm, trying to shake you awake. “Angel?-“ she gave up on that quickly as she saw the cuts made from your own nails that ran down your arm and how you tore away from her just to claw at your own skin, alright option two. She straddled your legs to stop the kicking, taking your hands pinning them down.

She settled for talking you down as her thumb rubbed over your palms in what she hopped would be a calming notion “you’re okay sweetheart, you’re our room my love, it’s just us.” Your squirming died down but you were still tense, your complains and whimpers never stopped, the way you were gripping her hands was clear sign the squirming stoped merely because she essentially forced it.

“Oh my darling girl.. it’s me, my love it’s Rissa, it’s just a nightmare, my sweet, listen to me.” When you calmed slightly more she decided it was safe to loosen her hold and lean over to turn the lamp on. “It’s time to wake up darling.”

The way you snapped awake made her heart clench. How unsettled you looked, the way you looked around the room and eventually up at her, pupils blown wide panic written all over your face. She smiled at you reassuringly and leaned down kissing your cheek and forehead. “It’s okay, my sweet little love. You’re okay with me, angel.”

She didn’t want to fully surround you, it would be too much while you’re already panicked, but she also couldn’t afford you hurting either of them in that state, so she waited, and spoke softly. “You are in Nevermore, in our room, in our bed.” Larissa deemed it safe enough to let go of your arms, gently cupping your face. “I know, my love that you’re scared, but I’m with you, I’ll protect you for anything and anyone, you are safe, 100% safe, I’ll make sure of that, yeah?” You only nodded.

Larissa gave you a second. “Would you like me to move away?” You shook your head, wanting to cry at the thought, she saw it, and moved slowly, moving to your side and turning you with her, she hugged you tight and purposely slowed her breathing for you to follow, you of course did. She only hugged you tighter when she felt your arms coming shyly around her and you hid into her chest.

“I’m not expecting you to tell me what you just lived, nor am I asking, but if you want to my love, I will listen.” You shook your head again. “You hurt yourself angel, a lot, we have to take care of that later okay? But I’ll take care of you, I’ll keep you safe every second.” You frowned and looked up at her. “How can you be so sure..” you barely mumbled out. “Well because I risked a slap across the face to save you from you.” You giggled. “I’m- very sorry.”

She pinned you down and furrowed her brows. “Are you apologizing for having a nightmare?” She kissed the tip of your nose. “Is that stupid?” A kiss to your cheek this time. “Did you cause the nightmare?” Now on the other side. “No! you know I can’t- ohhhh” she pressed a final kiss against your lips and moved to look at you, making you smile. “Right, so it’s not your fault, which means you don’t have to apologize for that, my beautiful beautiful girl.” You blushed at that, hiding your face in your hands.

“Would you like to try going back to sleep?” She asked as she moved the lay beside you, and you shook your head, curling into her. “Darling, you got here exhausted.. you still are. I’ll wake you if the nightmares start again, and the lamp will stay on.” You didn’t say anything, instead pulled yourself closer to her and closed your eyes, she smiled. “Sweet dreams, angel, you’ll be okay with me, I promise.”

[hannasaurrex]

do you have pearlina headcanons?

FINALLY FINALLY SOMEONE ASKED ME THIS UAAHHHHHHHHHHHH🥹💕💕💕💕🩷💕💕🩷🩷💕🩷💕🥹🥹🥹🥹

So, Abt that I actually have a LOT of stuff. But I'll say the ones I care the most and the ones for the present time in Splatoon.

((also, first things first, I take pearl as a trans person. Not that it's important at all, but it's also a headcanon of my))

Anyways, I take their relationship just as intense as everything they does. Their music, their love for things and each other; I really take them as REALLY intense, going to hell or heaven if they need to save or do smt for each other. They are really extra.

Their relationship started after OE and maybe the first kick was the moment cuttlefish revealed that Marina is a Octo. Pearl was already really protective with Marina, but after that, she turned into Marina's personal protection dog. (and Marina is really annoyed by that, but what she can do, she just loves her wife)

They seriously can't hide their relationship at all. They've tried before, but right now, they don't really care 💅 ((and I like to think they go extra clingy when they're next to Atch, cause they know they will lose their shit with their baby-talk))

Most of their fights are used to be related to Pearls ego and her kind of 'toxic' side in being jealous of anyone looking or desiring her goddess looking wife. Marina can be jealous too of course, but her level of jealousy isn't the same atomic level as Pearl. Pearl can get herself into fights, or even go ape shit if someone try hitting on Marina.

((I really love her face here))

For Marina I think she's just as intense, almost treating Pearl as her muse and maybe she has her own secret forum just to discuss how lovely her Pearlie is. ((She might have a kink for pearl's metal-head side, I really need to draw this))

For Marina's problematic side in their relationship, cause no one is perfect, Marina too have a jealousy side, but she tends to think that anyone can be better then her for Pearl. She may get quiet and timid and restrain herself from talking Abt her feelings.

Most of y'all must know that I'm also a nsfw artist, so the majority of what I have in headcanon is nsfw related (lol). But I'll say, their arguments usually ends at the bed.

To wrap this up cause this is getting way too long, their love languages are like: Marina is words of affirmation, acts of service and A LOT of physical touch. And for pearl is giving gifts and also physical touch.

Thankyou for reading, and send me more asks!!

[separatist-apologist]

Take Me Back To The Night We Met

Summary: Gwyneth Berdara wants nothing more than to return home and exact revenge on the courtiers who hurt her and killed her sister. Exiled to a distant temple, Gwyn finds herself at the mercy of a mysterious stranger offering to escort her home on orders from her eldest brother and king of the realm.

Unraveling the secrets of the strange soldier will prove more deadly than Gwyn could ever have imagined, setting into motion events that began nearly five hundred years before.

Happy @gwynrielweeksofficial!

TW for mentions of past sexual assault

Read on Ao3 | Chapter 1

Gwyn found herself seated before Merrill while Clotho stood just behind. It was another gloomy day, threatening rain which made the study seem darker by comparison. Merrill had books stacked so high they created walls within the four walls of her office and everything was claustrophobic. Gwyn knew she wasn’t supposed to fidget—both princesses and priestesses were expected to have a perfectly rigid spine. 

Merrill was dragging this meeting out, watching Gwyn with that haughty suspicion she was all too familiar with. Eris could have picked her for a wife, Gwyn thought privately. They shared so much in common already. Gwyn could only imagine who he’d selected, certain it was some nightmare from the south looking to enhance her fathers power while tormenting the court.

Gwyn was going to beg her brother to let her take up residence at the sea palace. She’d put on her bravest, sunniest face, dance and smile and laugh, and then at the end of the festivities, swear she barely thought of Catrin at all and could she please spend a few months looking at the sea?

Maybe he’d be too busy trying to put babies in his new wife to care what she did. Gwyn very much doubted her other brothers had strong opinions on where she was or what she did. But she’d make sure they saw her, too. Smiling–happy. Alive, which was more than Catrin could say. 

It wouldn’t matter if either of those things were lies. 

As if they could tell the difference.

“Gwyneth,” Merril began, eyes focused wholly on Gwyn. The priestess was a beautiful woman—young, too, for someone so revered. It annoyed Gwyn that Merrill referred to her as Gwyneth—even Eris didn’t bother. Neither had their father, who had always called her princess in that mocking, sneering way of his. 

Gwyn could have demanded Merrill address her properly. Could have made the priestess bow so low her nose scraped the stone floor beneath them. It was tempting and yet wrong all at the same time. Gwyn settled for fidgeting, holding Merrill’s gaze and daring her to say something about it. 

“Your brother has released you from your service here,” Merrill continued, eyes narrowing. “You will leave with the knight tomorrow. We’ve packed you a few provisions but I wanted to discuss the books in your bedroom.”

Gwyn forced herself to maintain eye contact. “What books?”

Clotho offered up a wordless sigh, her fingers slowly moving through the air. Gwyn had never dared to ask what had happened to Clotho or why she didn’t speak. If it was natural or self-imposed, Gwyn couldn’t say. She wouldn’t have cared had it not been for those fingers of hers. They’d been purposefully broken by someone and it didn’t look as if they’d ever properly healed.

Merrill drummed her own fingers against the desk, clearly annoyed and unable to do much but wait.

Don’t leave as angry as you came in, Gwyn. 

“Who says I’m angry?” Gwyn replied, adopting her sweetest voice. Clotho leveled a stare, not needing a word to call Gwyn a liar. 

“Bring the books back before you go,” Merrill added snappishly. “They are not for you or the palace.”

“Everything in Ellesmere belongs to the king,” Gwyn replied, though this wasn’t a battle she wanted to fight. She knew she’d bring them back and Merrill must have, too, because she reclined back in her chair, a queen holding court before her subjects. Gwyn bristled but rose to her feet and inclined her head, making a mockery of the whole thing.

At least she could have the last word. 

There was no chance Merrill didn’t write Eris ahead of time and give him her perspective of Gwyn’s time at the temple. Eris would be so irritated with her. What, she wondered, would his knight tell her brother, too? If she was difficult and unladylike, would that be held against her? If she had a nightmare, if she couldn’t keep a smile plastered to her face? 

Gwyn made her way out to the vegetable garden, ignoring several hens pecking at the soil so she could plop onto a wooden bench. Only there, beneath that moody, gray sky, did she dare vocalize some of her frustration with a long, quiet scream. 

No one ever came out here. It was reasonable to assume she was alone. But there he was, appearing seemingly out of the mist with a cocked head and curious eyes. “Heard the good news, did you?”

Gwyn toward the heavens. What have I done to displease you? “I still have a day before I’m remanded into your company,” she replied, unable to even pretend she was excited. 

The soldier—Azriel—sat beside her, though he kept a respectable distance between them. “You’re the only person willing to speak to me.”

“The priestesses aren’t keen on men,” Gwyn replied, glancing over at him. He was too beautiful to be trustworthy, besides. It set her on edge, too—made her nervous though she was a princess and he was practically no one at all. Why should he make her nervous? He was injured if his limp was any indication and the cut across his throat was stark in comparison to the golden brown of skin. Gwyn would have bet his ribs were all taped up still and if she needed to, she could just outrun him. 

Though he’d given her no reason to distrust him, Gwyn felt she had to be careful. 

“I’ve noticed,” he replied, settling back to look up at the sky. “Your head priestess has refused my offers to sleep outside.”

“I don’t think that would help,” Gwyn admitted, a new thought coming to her. “Will it be just you and me on the road?”

He cut a glance in her direction. “Yes.”

Two options presented themselves, each offering a different, potent form of anxiety. Gwyn could refuse to spend another minute in this man's presence and stay at the convent, no longer her brother's ward but as an actual priestess. She’d have to give up the title that had protected her and the station she’d always intended to fall back on. There would be no Sea Palace, no visiting Catrin’s grave, no more of her brothers or the life she’d once known.

And she’d likely lose her position in the library. That seemed the most offensive to Gwyn.

But if she went with him, she risked violence. He was a stranger with a pretty face and Gwyn didn’t trust men. Even low born men felt they were owed something from women. Alone, on the road…who could stop him if he decided to take more than she was offering? 

He didn’t seem interested in her internal warring, or at the very least, didn’t recognize what was happening. Having delivered the news, Azriel rose to his feet and began making his way further from the temple, unleashed and allowed. He didn’t look back, nor did he return to her long after the fog had consumed him. 

What would Catrin do, she wondered? 

Catrin would go home. She’d get out of this nightmare even if she had to claw her way out, and if Azriel was the only way to do it, Catrin was grit her teeth and figure it out. Gwyn could still boss him around, she reasoned. Could force him to stay on main roads, to rent rooms in taverns, to travel only during daylight. Gwyn had never quite managed the haughty, imperious nature of her siblings but perhaps she could try. 

Maybe she could channel a little of Eris’s attitude just this once if it meant freedom. 

At least, that’s what Gwyn told herself. Still, she barely slept that night, tossing and turning as she played out a million terrible scenarios and how she might react. Eris wouldn’t send someone cruel, would he? 

No, not intentionally—but Eris also wouldn’t concern himself with whether Gwyn felt safe so much as he would concern himself with who could get her home the quickest. Clearly it was this man who, despite provoking the ire of some unknown assailant, had all but crawled to the temple and was apparently ready to go a mere day later. 

Gwyn doubted Eris paid enough for that kind of loyalty. And still she packed up her things with a faint buzzing of excitement. She was leaving. Gods, but Gwyn would never have to see this place again, this prison dressed up as a religious institution. And the gods willing, she’d be home in a matter of days without any intention or returning.

Surely Eris could hand over the estate by the sea and allow her to have her own household. Gwyn would have to work on appearing chasetend, of course—like she’d learned some grand lesson and was now ready to be a member of their household. 

It was the happiest she’d been since Catrin died. The entire mood of the temple was upbeat, something that barely wounded her. They were all excited to see her go, forgetting that once she was no longer there, they’d have to pick a new target for their ire. Absently, Gwyn wondered which of them it would be. Who would become the new scapegoat for everyone's dissatisfaction? Would they realize the problem had never been with her?

Doubtful. 

The only person Gwyn felt compelled to truly say goodbye to was Clotho. She didn’t hate Clotho so much as she hated that Clotho upheld the rules her brother had obviously set in place. Standing before her in the library, a bag slung over her shoulder, Gwyn heard herself saying, “I’m sorry I was so difficult.” Clotho’s fingers were quick with a response. You were never difficult, Gwyneth. I hope you find healing, wherever you go.

Gwyn choked down the urge to cry, nodding her head and keeping her face impassive. “I appreciate that.”

There was nothing else. Azriel was waiting outside by the barn with leads to two horses looped around a gloved hand. Merril led Gwyn out, snapping out her displeasure over Azriel’s presence and how Gwyn had made a mess of her routine, her research—everything. It was only when they were nearly to the courtyard that Merril offered Gwyn any kindness at all.

“For you,” she said, pulling a small, pale blue box from beneath her cloak. “Don’t let him know you have it.” Gwyn looked up at the woman who could have been her mentor with surprise. There, nestled among soft velvet, lay a silver hilted dagger that curved in a wickedly lethal point. A flash of recognition passed between the two of them, gone so fast Gwyn blinked and nearly missed it. But there it was—two souls who, on some level, knew what kind of danger might be waiting for Gwyn.

And despite Merril’s dislike of her, she was seemingly unwilling to let Gwyn risk it all again without some kind of aid. Gwyn took it, unsure where she could even hide it and decided on her bag for the moment until she found something better. It would slice right through her pockets which, while an amusing image, was not the kind of stealth she was aiming for. 

“Thank you,” Gwyn murmured but Merril had already turned, her job clearly done. That was all Gwyn was ever going to get and so, with a breath to keep herself from hurtling a bunch of unfair, hurtful accusations at the retreating priestesses back, Gwyn turned for the world outside.

It was another moody, miserable day made moodier still by Azriel’s flat expression. Gone were his casual, comfortable clothes, replaced by thick, black armored leather that looked frankly uncomfortable. Two lethal blades were curved behind his shoulders and a dagger was strapped to his thigh.

Where was his red cape, she wondered? That was the mark of all of Eris’s men, the red cape with the golden clasp marking the sunlight insignia of their family. Gwyn marched up to him intending to demand to know but Azriel cut her off. “No one can know we’re traveling, princess.”

Ass.

“Why not?” she demanded, yanking the reins of the one of the midnight black horses from his hands. Azriel let her, his eyes hot against her back. 

“There is one of me and one of you,” was his level, near cold response. “I’d rather not find out what the King will do if I let his sister die on the road.”

“I doubt he’d care at all,” Gwyn said without thinking, the words slipping bitterly from her lips. Azriel glanced up at her, seated now in the well-oiled saddle, a question lingering in his gaze.

Wisely, he kept it to himself and instead swung a powerful leg over his own horse, the movement effortlessly graceful and strangely fluid. Hardly a common soldier, then, though not an elite warrior, either. He was something else, something she didn’t have any knowledge of.

That was likely for the best, all things considered.

“We’ll travel until nightfall,” Azriel began, digging his heels into the flank of his beast. Her own followed of its own accord, as though it had been given some silent command. Gwyn knew how to ride a horse—had been taught as a girl, like all good royals. She didn’t need his help.

“I won’t be sleeping outside,” Gwyn told him in the snottiest voice she could manage. Eris would be proud—she sounded just like him.

“I’m well aware,” Azriel replied without humor. “You’ll be locked in a tavern room. And before you get any ideas, princess, I will be just outside.”

“What ideas—”

“I’m told you run away. Often,” he added, those hazel eyes focused straight ahead. 

Eris was such a cheat. Of course he’d warn this man, likely with veiled threats of what would happen if Gwyn slipped his grasp. The thought of trying occurred to her, though something in the set of his shoulders told her it was better not to try his patience. Clotho had never truly been angry with Gwyn. Impatient, frustrated, even irritated, yes. But truly angry? Never.

She had the feeling this man might raise his voice. Might yell. And he’d learn, if he did, that all her talk was merely bravado and beneath she crumpled easily. There was no Catrin to create a wall, to shield Gwyn from the tempers of the world while Gwyn sniffed, eyes welling with tears.

Even as a grown woman, anger so often provoked the sobbing reaction. 

“Well. I’m trying to leave this place, not return to it,” Gwyn told him, some of that haughtiness gone. She had a good plan, one that seemed achievable and promised relief. Get home. Fake enough contrition that Eris stopped thinking about her, which was almost the same as his concern. And then, once he was in a good mood—perhaps the night before his wedding, when he was likely to be a little drunk and too focused on himself to think of his wayward siblings—ask for the Seaside Palace. Maybe, she reasoned, she could ask to just go for a while and acclimate herself back into royal life.

And once she was gone and no longer causing mischief, Eris would let her stay if only to have one less person to worry about. 

“You want to return to the palace?” Azriel inquired, as though this was difficult to believe.

Gwyn twisted in her saddle, looking over her shoulder at the temple atop the hill, fading quickly in the creeping fog, its spindled fingers forever reaching for the sky without ever quite reaching. How was anyone supposed to feel human in a place dedicated to the gods? 

“It’s my home,” she said softly, turning her eyes toward the paved road ahead, curving over lush, green hills that promised freedom. In truth, the palace had long stopped being her home and yet that was where Catrin’s ghost still lived, where half of Gwyn’s heart was buried. Perhaps she could fill the aching yawn stretching in her chest, could finally have some closure.

It was tempting, right then, to ask Azriel about court life. Some sick urge wanted to know who still lingered in those ornate marble halls. She never wanted to hear the names spoken and yet thought of them so often, wondering how their lives had gone, that Gwyn was constantly at war with herself. There was no outcome that would bring her peace because no matter what happened to them, Catrin was still dead and Gwyn was still alone.

Though, she supposed being allowed to kill them would be a close second. 

Azriel asked her no more questions, settling into a comfortable pace. On occasion he stopped to let the horses graze and rest, but for the most part they rode in silence. It left Gwyn with too much time to think, and thinking very quickly turned to ruminating. She knew she couldn’t change the past and yet…if only she’d told Eris sooner. If only she’d kept what happened to herself. Catrin might still be alive and Gwyn wouldn’t feel so angry and hollow. 

They’d been more than just sisters. Gwyn and Catrin had shared a womb, a body, a soul. Tilting her face skyward, Gwyn would have given anything to tell Catrin how sorry she was. And when a cool breeze fluttered against her overheated cheeks, Gwyn thought it was Catrin’s hand reassuring her everything was alright.

She tried to find contentment with that. 

Azriel had promised her a room, and he managed to deliver. After what felt like miles of nothing, a dilapidated village appeared just as the sun began to dip, casting even weaker light over the gloomy world. Gwyn pulled her cloak a little tighter against her shoulders as they made their way through high, iron gates covered in curling ivy. The homes were made of stone and wood, the windows chipped and covered with boards to keep out the rainy chill.

It unnerved Gwyn how no one moved around. It wasn’t that late and yet had there not been flickering candle light behind some of the filth covered glass, she would have thought the entire village was inhabited by ghosts. The tavern Azriel promised had a rotted wooden sign banging about in the wind, unreadable from the elements.

Someone came out to meet them, taking the reins from Azriel wordlessly in exchange for a couple coins pressed into a weathered palm. Gwyn said nothing, keeping her hood over her head to obscure the auburn hair that would mark her as a Vanserra. Hers was darker than her brothers—more cinnamon and gold than true coppery red—and still something about it made people pause. 

Azriel nodded for her to go inside, pulling the handle to a swinging door so she could duck beneath his arm.

“Say nothing,” he murmured, his lips barely moving. For once, Gwyn was inclined to do as she was told. Keeping herself close, Gwyn followed him over creaking wood boards toward a chipped and warped desk where an exhausted looking matron stood, her eyes fixed on the pair of them. 

She’d been told not to speak, and so she didn’t. While Azriel asked for one room, his voice low and intimate, Gwyn took the opportunity to survey their lodgings for the evening. The tavern was just that—a tavern first, room for rent second. Exhausted bodies were hunched over tarnished cups and worn bowls of food, steam curling around wan faces. Gwyn was tempted and nervous all at once.

It was a room filled with unfamiliar people, the majority of which were men. Azriel spared her the agonizing, gloved fingers reaching for her elbow to tug her in the opposite direction toward narrow, spiraling stairs.

“I’m hungry,” she whispered.

Behind them, the door opened and two men stepped into the room. Like Gwyn, their faces were obscured by rather fine looking cloaks and yet she knew without seeing them at all that they didn’t belong. Azriel’s eyes slid over their frames without recognition, turning back to her as the two large, powerfully built men made their way toward the tavern.

“I’ll bring you something to eat,” he replied, level as always. “In your room.”

“Fine,” she hissed, though relief pierced her irritation. “I want a lot of it.”

He only shrugged, as though it didn’t bother him one way or the other. How much gold had Eris given him, she wondered? Enough to keep her fed, which was a relief. Food was a good substitute for feeling at time, and Gwyn was tired of how raw she felt. She’d eat, she’d bathe, and she’d go to bed.

After all. She was one day closer to home.

[sgiandubh]

Anon rebelde.

Si vas a delatar a alguien, o si vas a informar o discutir lo que escribe, lee tu mismo la publicación correspondiente

Tal vez alguien le tendría que decir a la señora de las iniciales en mayúsculas,SDLIM para abreviar, que se aplique el cuento porque su comprensión lectora deja mucho que desear y también que tenga cuidado con todos esos blogs fantasmas que tanto la aplauden, tal vez tenga entre ellos un caballo de Troya. El que avisa no es traidor, es avisador y por cierto, hacen muy buena pareja la caja roja de Nestlé y la negra de aviación 😉

Dear (returning) Anon Rebelde,

Su última comunicación ha molestado a mucha gente de enfrente, que aparentemente se quejaba de que nuestro diálogo era imposible de seguir. Sin embargo, estoy segura de que nuestras maravillosas hermanas shipper no tienen problemas para entender el tráfico de esta escena, lo cual, según me han dicho, también es muy apreciado. Para todos los demás usaré pictogramas:

(I am translating the above paragraph I wrote myself in Spanish as a courtesy to this valued guest, just so you know - across the street. This is also NOT something you ought to have a say in, on MY page) Your last submission has annoyed many people across the street, who apparently complained about our dialogue being impossible to follow. However, I am sure our wonderful shipper sisters have no trouble understanding the traffic of this stage, which I am also told is very much appreciated.

For all the others, I will use pictograms 🙄:

👮‍♀️Translation of Anon Rebelde's question follows. Fasten your seatbelts ❗

'If you are going to tattle on someone, or if you are going to report or discuss what they write, read the relevant post for yourself' Maybe someone should tell Block Letters Lady, BLL for short, to also practice what she preaches, because her reading comprehension leaves a lot to be desired, and also to be careful with all those sock accounts that applaud her so much, maybe there's a Trojan horse among them. Not a traitor, speaking: just a warner. And by the way, the red Nestlé box and the black aviation box make a very good couple 😉

​👮‍♀️Translation of Anon Rebelde's submission has now ended. You may safely proceed to the next level ❗

I am aware of the Baby Jesus' Belly Button Feast in there, too. That is strictly their problem, Anon Rebelde, but it's still hilarious to watch them pretend to be friends with each other, etc. I think all of this is very childish, but again, querida - we do things a bit differently, in here, and that is something that is not going to change. The red box was probably not Nestlé, but if you find it more fun, so be it.

And you are right, Red Box and Black Box like each other a lot, since Day 1, when Black Box welcomed Red Box like long lost family and immediately trusted her. Something Red Box was not expecting, so she was very moved & happy about it. Black Box + Red Box = Friends♾️, who root hard for each other, help each other and share a lot of things in DMs, too 😱.

(Remember: if you are not Julius Caesar or Marilyn Monroe, illeism is such a chichi rhetorical trick. And even if you are Julius Caesar - De Bello Gallico is such an obnoxious thing to translate, you wouldn't believe it.)

People are both a blessing and a curse, in this Strange Wasteland. I have met some of the kindest souls and some of the strangest twisted minds ever, in here. It really is mindboggling, yet by far the best side of this experience.

As for the Trojan Horse, well.... I don't get what you mean, but I trust their spies will.

May I risk a Miss Cleo prediction and foresee another salvo of Anons who'd throw the door open, enter in a frenzy, step on Bebe's tail, put their feet on the table and show me how pressure is properly done?

Let them.

I'd rather have you, Anon Rebelde. Doors can be slammed, too.

[coweye]

Commitment Issues - Part 9

Pairing: Benjamin Miller x Reader Words: 5.0K Summary: When you try and take your friends with benefits relationship to the next level, Benny’s response isn’t quite what you were expecting.

Warnings: Finally there's warnings again! Slight Angst, NSFW - respect the 18+ pls, cuteness.

So, this fic has always been close to my heart. 

I wrote this two years ago about a guy I was seeing but wanted more from. (Full disclosure, he’s no Benny Miller and luckily I didn’t have his baby.) It was a way of daydreaming the way my life could’ve gone. I never could’ve imagined you guys would embrace it the way you have and it honestly warms my heart so much that there are people out here waiting for an update. I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting.

A few months ago (the not-Benny) actually asked me if I wanted to be his girlfriend. Spoiler alert - he’s really not boyfriend material. So, much as I suspected, it didn't work out, because men aren’t written by women in real life. I’m not surprised or sad, I’m happy I know for sure but it  feels like I’ve come full circle and I think it's time I give our girl the ending I didn’t get. 

I love you all so much and words can describe how much I appreciate your support.

➢fic masterpost

PREVIOUS PART

Life in the past 48 hours had been… surreal. 

You had confessed your feelings for your baby daddy and then found out that he reciprocated those feelings all before doing the equivalent of pushing a grape out of your nostril.

A baby.

A gorgeous baby girl. 

Gorgeous didn’t quite cover it, yet finding a word that described the transcendent beauty of the soul you’d brought forth into this world escaped you, as did a name for the said beauty. 

For the time being the angel made human was currently known as TBD or more affectionately Tee. The two of you had been trying out names but a new baby and totally requited feelings didn't automatically cancel out a life-time of bickering. 

Your problem was there wasn’t a name you’d heard that actually sounded like her and Ben, god love him, had a habit of picking names from a nursing homes register; Ethel, Millicent, Edith - I could go on.

He liked old fashioned names, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, though it didn’t lend itself to easy compromise. 

So, Tee, she remained with test names thrown in sporadically with hopes that a winner would stick, ideally before her 18th Birthday.  

Whilst the name vetoing annoyed the hell out of you there wasn’t any real friction. The name discussion never became heated, if a name was vetoed you moved on to the next accepting the decision of the other person. 

It was a healthy co-parenting dream. 

Despite the pending conversation that loomed over you both, things weren’t awkward - quite simply because you didn’t have the time for it to be!

Mia (Nah) didn’t leave you much time for it. 

Whilst she was a dream for sleeping, the time afforded to you both was spent sleeping or preparing the house for her awakening. She was beautiful, but exhausting - a lot like her father.

So it only made sense that when you got your first minute of peace,  after a long nap, now in your own bed and fresh pajamas; that the innermost workings of your heart would come to the surface. 

To the backing track of Modern Family, you planned and plotted your conversation word for word. Time allowed for dramatic pauses and longing gazes were of course included. When you began planning his lines you realized enough was enough and rose from your bed. 

Sure, after looking in the mirror, you’d had better days for your self confidence - ones where you weren’t rocking an adult nappy. But beggars couldn't be choosers and if you let it run in circles anymore you were afraid your brain would just combust.

There was a huge part of you that was excited after all this was years in the making, but then that small, human part of you was screaming at you to temper your expectations. 

How often does someone get everything they want? When did your life become a fairy tale? 

You didn’t think Benny would flat out turn you down, but what if he couldn’t live up to what had been in your head. 

For the first time, in a long time, you decided to ignore your brain - self preservation be damned. 

With a turn on your heel in a matching silk pajama set and a goddamn adult nappy you proudly began your descent down the stairs. 

Nothing could’ve prepared you for when you rounded the corner. 

There on the sofa he lay, utterly shirtless. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen him like this, in fact you’d actively avoided his fights after you had ‘broken up’ for this very reason because one look at those rippling shoulders would’ve tanked any remaining resolve or feminism left in your body. 

It would also be remiss to add that your daughter lay on his chest for what you assume was skin-to-skin time. Somehow, it both melted your heart and stoked a fire within you - having a child was strange. Since when was being a good Father a kink for you? 

“Pssst.” You whispered under your breath, trying to get his attention without waking the bean. It took another two tries before he finally looked up confused and then fixed you with that beaming smile.

“Well… good mornin’, Mama.” His voice was deep from lack of use and he looked utterly exhausted yet his smile was as big as ever.

You couldn’t help your own grin at his words as you pressed your attack and kneeled at his side. For a moment your hand stroked at the valley of her spine, before your palm came to rest on his bare shoulder.

How the hell could two people so clueless make something so absolutely perfect?

After a moment or two spent lost in pure adoration you lifted your gaze to Ben. His eyes hadn’t left your face since he became aware of your presence. 

You couldn’t help it.

Now was the time for words not for actions that had made this hole you were currently buried in, and yet …

You let yourself get lost in those eyes and pressed your lips against his. 

It was soft. 

Softer than anything the two of you had ever known. 

Neither one of you pushed for more, you simply indulged in the closeness that had been hard won to come so easily. The hand not cradling your daughter to his chest, rose to hug your cheek as you parted. 

“Where did that come from?”

“I’ve been meaning to do it since the hospital, but the nap helped me put my ducks in a row, I guess.”

Benny rose into a sitting position, slowly, mindful of the sleeping infant on his chest. 

He laid her in the moses basket at the foot of the sofa and pressed the white noise machine. Mozart began playing softly, lulling her into a deeper sleep.

Finally, Benny turned back to you, his eyes serious. “I wasn’t sure if you regretted saying what you did… if it was the heat of the moment… y’know the fear.”

You contemplated for a single moment.

“I meant every word.”

The problem with you and Benn had always been that you both approached your relationship with one foot out the door, whoever cared the least won. It was the way you both protected yourself.

It was only now you were realizing the commitment issues had gone both ways, for a time at least. It was easier if you played with no skin in the game, there was nothing to lose. But now, you had everything to lose and you didn’t want to waste a single moment playing the stupid games you’d wasted so many years of your life devoted to.

“Every word?”

“Every. Single. One. Especially the ones about your lame singing.” You couldn’t help your grin that snuck out as you teased him. 

“Lame? I’m sorry it's that gruff, sexy singing that made your ass crush on me.”

“God. I wish I could take it all back, but I do Benny, I fucking adore you.”

All through your back and forth he’d been advancing. It was as if your words prompted him to pounce. His hands were planted on your cheeks, as he gave you a part of himself in an all consuming kiss. 

It was like he was trying to explain all his feelings, all the hurt and frustration and affection he’d felt in one kiss.

As his tongue brushed yours and his hands trailed the sides of your body to pull you against him, your hands found his shoulders as you attempted to pull him closer, as if that was even possible. 

The two of you had been at war for so long, so afraid to give eachother any part of yourself. The air was thick with emotion, your hormones were all over the place as tears began to leak from your eyes. 

Relief, joy, lo- you couldn’t name the emotion entirely but it was some combination. With your kisses you promised to start anew, to fix what was broken and forget all the hurt you had caused one another.  

You were going to do your best for her, for your Joy.

Unable to stop yourself, you grabbed at the waistband of his sweats, finding the warm skin of his toned stomach. That seemed to bring him back to reality as he grabbed your hands and placed his forehead against yours, breathing heavily through his nose in what you assumed was an attempt to gather his self control. 

“Angel, you’re gonna start something you can’t finish, by my reckon… for at least 6 weeks.” 

“Let me take care of you.” You breathed, dropping your kisses lower to his neck. 

 “No, baby. We’re doing this right. I’m not gonna cum in your mouth and then leave you to carry on with your day aching in both ways - at least not till you can return the favor in mine.” He kissed your forehead chastely, as if he hadn’t just promised to eat you out the second your pussy was healed. 

“Benny.” You whined.

“I don’t care Y/N. We’re doing this right, I’ve fucked this up too many times.”

“I guess 6 weeks isn’t too long… right?”

WRONG.

Four Weeks Later

The two of you had come in leaps and bounds in your communication and you were striving towards a healthy relationship.

Hell, the two of you had been on about five PG-13 dates. Sure, it was slowly killing you, the lack of physical contact below the belt, but the two of you were getting to know each other as a romantic partner instead of a best friend that occasionally rides him in his truck.

It was good, going back over the steps the two of you had missed. Your injured vagina was allowing you to take it slow, something you and Benny sorely needed the second time round.

Though, it was still Benny. So he constantly teetered on the edge of gentlemanly courtship as he caressed the meat of your thigh as the two of you sat closely in a booth; and you loved it. 

All in all, it was kinda perfect.

So it was fitting that your perfect life shattered around you on a random Saturday morning.

“Sure Jaz, I’ll meet you at 11…. Okay, see you soon.” You heard from the man currently cradling your daughter in his arms as he gave her a bottle.

God, you wished you had more faith in your shiny new relationship, that you didn’t immediately jump to anger. 

Alas, rage was an old ally and you leapt into his eagerly awaiting arms. 

Every single doubt and unfair suspicion raised to your tongue as he turned to face you. He fixed you with an easy smile, clearly none-the wiser about the eye of the storm he was currently wandering into.

“Ben... I’ve gotta’ ask. It's been weighing on me for months… but who the fuck is Jaz?”

He blanched, his eyes looking down to your daughter as if she at 4 weeks old was capable of critical thinking. It clearly wasn’t what he was expecting when it left your mouth. He looked… somewhere between embarrassed and guilty.

It was then your eye caught the bottles that hadn’t been rinsed. They were abandoned on the marble, left to sour. That all but sealed his fate.

Sure, if you weren’t actively plotting his and his secret girlfriend's demise, you may not have overreacted. But in that solitary, ugly moment, that basic lack of regard he held for you and your relationship was encapsulated by his inability to complete the singular god forsaken chore that was his. 

The guy didn’t have a chance to respond before you were at the sink filling the washing up bowl with foamy water. The aroma of sour milk as you unscrewed the bottle lids only served to stoke your fires as you all but threw the stinking bottles in the water, splashing yourself with suds as you did.

“Do I have to do everything?!” 

“Y/N…”

“Sometimes, Ben…” 

“What the fuck - can we just rewind or can you explain what exactly it is you think i’ve done?!” He is incredulous as he places your daughter in her soothing swing chair, his arms now raising in surrender. 

“You need me to explain?” You huff, stoney in disbelief at his gall. 

“For god sake Y/N… leave them, I’m gonna get to them after this one.”

“Yeah, well. I’ve learnt not to believe you when you say things and do the complete opposite…”

“Do the complete opposite?” You heard clear as day the anger building in his voice. “If you wanna say something, then fucking say it!”

“FINE! I’ll say it! “ You slammed the last bottle in the bowl and turned round, wiping your hands on a tea towel as you fixed your gaze on him. “I thought you were happy taking it slow, I thought you wanted to be with me. But no, Jaz. AGAIN..”

He let out a light laugh, one that held no humor. “Christ sakes, Y/N - Jaz is a client! - I’m a fuckin’ personal trainer!”

“SHE’S- Oh-”

“Yeah - Oh.” His arms were crossed across his chest and his eyes had hardened.

“I - I’m sorry. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“To go from a soldier, to a fighter, to a glorified crossfit instructor …  just a little humiliating, Y/N.” His voice was flat and dejected as he spoke. 

At that moment, you were utterly ashamed.

“Ben… I am so -”

“Yeah. You’re sorry. But that's the thing, no matter how much I apologize or tell you how I feel about you, it's never enough. Y/N why are we even bothering when you clearly still don’t trust me.”

“Ben, I-”

“No, Y/N. It's not fair. I’ve been a good Dad and to be completely honest I’ve been a pretty stellar boyfriend, and yet all I get from you is fuckin’ accusations!” 

You hadn’t seen Benny this angry outside of the of the ring in a long fucking time. Yet you weren’t afraid of him as he came to stand before you, you knew Ben.  

“I can’t do this. Not if you’re gonna hold on to every doubt you have about me and whip them out every time I do something to piss you off, I’m not perfect Y/N.”

“I’m trying… Ben it’s not-”

“No. Listen, I told you. I told you how hard this was for me.” He stood before you, his shoulders sagged in defeat as his eyes shone with unshed tears. “I fucking poured my heart out to you, baby. I only want you and if you can’t trust that, then this isn’t going to work out and we need to stop and just be parents, because I’m not gonna live my life like this - instantly guilty for whatever shit your head dreams up for me.” 

He picked up his cap from the dining room table and bent down to place a kiss on your sleeping daughter's forehead before he swiped his hair back from his face and placed the cap on top.  Your fingers were aching from the grip you had on the counter.

“Well, I'm going to have some adulterous sex with my side piece Jasmine. Then I might swing by Flanagan’s on my way home for a threesome with an old flame. Who knows might make it a goddamn foursome!” Benny strolled out, he didn’t slam a single door. Always conscientious of the baby.

Goddamn you felt like shit.

It was hard to admit that you were wrong. 

All joking aside, you weren’t used to it. You never went into battle half cocked, which meant all arguments were mentally vetted before you championed a cause. But no matter how you sliced it, this time you were unequivocally wrong.

You had come at him with such anger. God, you should’ve just calmly asked him who Jasmine was. Why did you automatically assume the worst?

Shoulda, Woulda, Coulda - Didn’t do any good now.

Simply put, you had been a dick, to a man who had been nothing short of amazing to you. 

It was as you stood frozen leaning against the counter top that you began to realize you’d never fully forgiven Ben for what happened a year ago. The toll that had taken on your self worth and your confidence.

It wasn’t his fault, not really. You had promised yourself when starting this back up you’d forgive everything from the past, but you supposed that was hard when he’d never really apologized. 

That was petty, you reasoned.  

You knew he was sorry. 

The two of you had jumped straight back into dating, deciding to try and have the perfect romance without the deep connection which came from talking through the nitty gritty. All because the truth of the matter was; feelings made you both uncomfortable.

So you avoided talking about them at all costs, hell you'd been in active labour before you'd been able to bare your soul to him.

So, how could you be so surprised when it bubbled up in these ugly ways?

Deciding to resolve these difficult thoughts with Benny when or if he returned, eased the ache within yourself a tiny bit.   

Placing the baby monitor beside your sleeping daughter you decided to prepare yourself for that conversation. 

You made it through one life affirming shower and half of your skincare routine before her wails demanded your presence. 

“Mommy’s coming baby.” You spoke through the monitor using it as a walkie talkie. It was hard not to flash back to your service days as you used it. You were half way down the stairs reminiscing on the good ole days when you weren’t a complete asshole, when you heard a male voice whispering to Tee on the monitor. 

It was instinctual; you didn’t even think, you just moved, taking the stairs two at a time, stopping only to grab a weapon or, as it is more commonly known as, a broom.  

“GET AWAY FROM HER ASSHOLE.” You wielded the broom like a hockey stick ready to swing on the assailant. As you rounded the corner and were stupefied to find Benny there with your daughter, his eyes wide as you entered the room ready to assault him.

“Y/N?!”

“BENNY. OH MY CHRIST. I thought - “ In a single moment you instantly drop the broom and grab your baby from his arms, planting kisses all over her face and head. 

“Oh my god, you scared mommy, Tee. Yes you did. My heart, oh fucking christ. I didn’t expect you back.”

“What can I say - I didn't fancy the orgy today.”

“Daddy’s very funny, Sienna.”

“Sienna… Sienna Miller?” Benny narrows his eyes over the top of his Starbucks takeout cup.  

“Veto.” You both say in unison despite your argument. 

Tee whined in your arms, amping up for a wail.

“She didn’t finish her bottle before she fell asleep earlier.” Ben pointed out to the half empty bottle waiting to be washed up. Your stomach dropped at the mere sight of the cause of your hissy fit earlier.

“Are you hungry, beautiful girl?” You crooned to your baby after a pause. Adjusting the robe you had thrown on after your shower. “I’ll feed her and then we can talk?”

He nodded, his face giving nothing away. It was strange to be stonewalled by Ben. Usually every thought that crossed his mind was mirrored on his face. 

Taking a seat in the love chair you’d set up in the lounge for this exact purpose you exposed your breast. You had been doing a half breast half formula feeding pattern so that Ben could pitch in.

She latched on quickly, but never as quickly as she did the bottle. A tiny part of you was disappointed, as you’d always had images of breastfeeding your child. But with a low milk supply you’d had little option but to supplement with bottles, but beyond the bonding aspect you had no qualms with the bottle.

Tee was slowly falling asleep as she drank and after about five minutes she was gone to the world. 

Feeling guilty all while, you held her to your chest after rearranging your robe. You should be speaking to Benny about your regrettable words earlier and yet you couldn’t force your legs to move. Telling someone you had been a complete dick wasn’t a fun thing to do.

So it made sense after about ten minutes of hiding that Benny appeared with the moses basket in toe for your sleeping angel. 

You nodded thankfully and silently you handed her off to him, making sure that your entire chest was covered. 

He placed her in the far corner of the room, far enough away that your voices - if they were kept below a shout - wouldn’t wake her.

He took a seat to your right, there was about a meter between you. It was all so stiff, like a business meeting as you each waited for the other to speak. 

“So.” He muttered avoiding eye contact.

“I’ll start. I’m sorry Ben. You didn’t deserve that.” His eyes rose to meet yours. “I want this to work. I meant it, I want to leave it all behind and I thought I could - just forget everything, I mean. But I can’t. I think, well, I think we need to talk about it.”

“Y/N-”

“No, Ben, please. I’ve thought about this for like twenty minutes in the shower.” You left your seat to sit beside him. “I know you don’t like… feelings. I don’t either, it's awkward. But, I need to get through this to get over it, y’know?” 

“I think I do.” He nodded.  You took his hand in yours. 

“I’m not making excuses, I’m sorry I lost my shit this morning. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. When I heard her name, I was right back there. Pregnant and alone and just completely unsure about everything; infatuated with a guy who I didn’t think felt the same. It was terrifying … And I’ve never told you that. It messed with my head everything that happened last year.”

“Right back where?... When you heard her name?”

“At the baby shower.”

“Oh Y/N, you should've asked!”

“Why? We weren’t together.”

“I started as a PT about a month after Christmas. After I found out and the hospital - It's a hell of a lot safer and the pay’s more steady. I’m still training with Will but the fights are gonna’ be … fewer. I wanna be around.” His hand clutched in yours tightened his thumb on your fingers forcing you to look up.

“You’re such a good Dad. I’m so sorry if I made you feel like you weren’t” Your hand rose to his face. 

“I am so sorry. I haven’t said it have I? But I am. That night you told me you wanted more and I shut you down, I broke your heart. I don’t want anyone else, only you. I need you to hear me.”

“I do Ben, I do.”

“No, Y/N. I want you to be my wife, I want you to have more of my babies. You’re the only one for me, I think of you when I wake up, before I go to sleep - there hasn’t been a day in the past ten years I haven’t thought about you. I will never hurt you like that again, I fucking promise you.”

Tears sprung to your eyes as your heart began to heal, it felt so full as you sat beside him basking in his words.

“I fucking dig you Benny.” You grabbed his cheeks pulling him into a kiss. It started off lighter before it began to deepen. 

Teasingly you flicked your tongue against his gaining access, biting his lip you pulled yourself onto his lap to get a better angle on your exploration of his mouth. Through his jeans you felt him begin to swell as he pressed against the linen of your robe. 

It had only been three weeks, but you were desperate for him to be inside you. Compromise was the name of the game.  

He pulled away from your mouth, which you were fine with, you knew the words about to leave his lips. Which is why you decided to be persuasive as you trailed kisses down his neck. 

“Baby, no, you’ve only just had a baby, c’mon.”

Smothering kisses against his warm skin, he smelled deliciously of the Calvin Klein aftershave he always spritzed on before leaving the house. You moved your hips against his, which prompted him to grab them. His large hands splayed across your ass, holding you still as he attempted to maintain some semblance of self control.

“You can’t go inside, but we can still have fun.” You whispered into his neck. “Besides, you’re the injured party, I have an apology to make.”

“Well…” He moaned as you playfully bit at his warm flesh “You were mean as hell, baby.”

With Benjamin's help you shrugged the linen dressing gown from your shoulders. Instantly you were completely exposed before him.  His eyes zeroed in on your swollen breasts, sure he’d seen them in passing but never so freely exposed and at eye level. 

Hands gentle as always rose to cup them. Those gorgeous fingers skirted around your nipples making your hips rut down against his hardened member. 

“Sensitive.” You explained before he placed kisses on them. He kissed along the underside of your breast before lathering his tongue around your nipples. His gaze lowered and his palms skirted along your sides before they landed on your ass. 

You couldn’t help your self consciousness, the last time this man had seen you naked you’d been a size Y/S. Now you had some fresh stretch marks and a stomach still swollen from your child. 

However, all your self consciousness went out the window the second he squeezed at the meat there and pulled you down against his jeans, his hips thrusted up in time, almost unintentionally. 

The fabric was causing some delicious friction against your clit, yet you wanted more. 

“Is this okay, you’re not in pain?” He asked resting his forehead against yours.

You kissed his lips as you held onto his jaw.

“No. I want more.”

“You can’t have more, your sweet pussy needs more time before I ruin it.” He smirked before claiming your mouth with his tongue, putting all his filthy promises behind it.

“No, but you can.” You leaned backwards and began to undo his zipper. His hands came up to stop you before he remembered your words from earlier. 

Finally, you set him free. He was bigger than you remembered, straining up against Ben’s belly. You couldn't resist as you rubbed your bare heat against him. You were sopping as his cock came away wet. 

Benny groaned, one hand squeezing the meat of your ass and the other staying firmly on your hip, just in case you tried something. You grabbed his chin, joining your mouths in a deep kiss, once more you dropped your hips, your clit bumping against the head of his cock in the most delicious way before you slid along his shaft. 

Once again he groaned, this time into your mouth which you greedily swallowed up. Playfully you bit at his lip, touching your tongue once more to his just to give him a preview of how talented it could be.  

He began to help you as he pushed his jeans further down his thighs frantically as you moved off of his lap and fell onto your knees between his legs. 

Your mouth watered as you stared at his pulsing cock, now covered in your own wetness.  You couldn’t help a smirk as his head dropped back on the couch as he tried to give you space to work. 

Slowly, playfully almost, you stroked his length and you couldn't help a small smirk as his hips thrusted into your palm.  Right where you wanted him, he was fighting a losing battle of control.

With no warning you leaned down and swiped your quick tongue along the head of his cock. If the groans had added to the flood below the belt, the broken call of your name had you practically gushing. 

Leaning forward to get a better vantage, you sneakily pressed your heel into your clit. It alleviated some of the pressure but nowhere near enough. 

All at once you took his length into your mouth, his cry was absolutely gorgeous as he grabbed at his own thigh. 

Your tongue lathered the veins that hid on the underside of his cock. It was wet and messy and he was quickly falling apart in your mouth. 

He was fighting the urge to fuck your mouth as he gripped at his thighs in solidarity, you wanted him to bruise the back of your throat with his thrusts.

You reached up and grabbed his hand, currently grabbing at his thigh and placed it into your hair. It was an open invitation, to let himself go. To stop being so polite and sorry, to go back to fucking you the way he used to.

It was an invited he RSVP’ed immediately.  His hands immediately began guiding your face up and down his cock, pushing your face down so that the head of his dick nudged the back of your throat. 

Your gag constricted around his cock which made his head roll back in pleasure.  His hand loosened its hold on your hair, almost asking permission. 

With a roll off your eyes you dropped your head harder than he had, his cock was practically in your esophagus, but it showed him you could take it. 

“Yes, baby. Fuck - you suck cock so good.”   

Unable to help it you grinded against your heel, desperate for the sweet relief of his touch, but unable to receive it.

You noticed the pressure building as his stomach began taut as he continued fucking your face. 

Taking back control, your hands found his balls and rolled them between your fingers caused him to groan as that pressure increased.

“Fuck baby, I’m gonna-” His cry was all you needed as you as you took his entire length in your mouth. You fought the urge to gag as you reminded yourself to breathe through your nose. His come spurted hotly down your throat as you swallowed every damn drop of it. 

@sixshooter665 @queenie-b- @rambling-in-purple @anaaaispunk

 @miraclesabound @kravitzwhorehore @ahsokathearcher @xoxabs88xox @heresathreebee @psychadelichues @marauderskeeper @tanzthompsonn @mermaidxatxheart

[000marie198]

I don't know if anyone else has talked about this already but, oh well!

So anyway, let's talk about the Chaos Council. It's made up of five different versions of Eggman.

Now remember my theory on how all the alternates are basically shattered parts of the original? That they're the aspects of the main characters taken to the extreme? Well, I believe the presence of the Chaos Council proves that theory. Cuz when you notice, there are no alternates of Eggman anywhere else throughout the Shatterverses but there are alternates of everyone else. This means all the Eggman alternates are in one place, aka New Yoke, as part of the CC. Why does that serve to prove that the alternates are shattered parts of a whole? Well, for many reasons but I'm gonna talk about three major ones.

Firstly, something that Mister Dr. Eggman said struck a chord while I was rewatching the premiere episode. While introducing the Chaos Council to Sonic, he said,

"One makes five, five makes one."

This dialogue literally and very clearly hints at them being 5 parts of a whole. A major clue or a foreshadowing if you will.

Secondly, their personalities. They all clearly reflect a certain major trait of Eggman. Introduction wise, Dr. Done-It is an aged man who likes to yell orders and complain.

He is literally, as Sonic would put it, a grumpy old man. That's the part of Eggman which gets annoyed at all the failed plans and groans in agitation and yells at his creations and curses out Sonic. Also the part that keeps urging to get a move on.

Next, there's Dr. Deep.

If his name and mannerisms aren't hinting enough, that's the part of Eggman that sometimes comes up at the end of the adventure when he's standing alone somewhere. The philosophical part, the part that expressed his feelings on Gerald, the part that would sometimes save Sonic because it wouldn't be a victory unless he's the one defeating his opponent. But this is not all, Deep is also the part which holds all of Eggman's battle prowess and drip. In short, he's the right-brained part of Eggman.

As for Dr. Don't, the emo teenager.

This is the guy who points out a clear cut obvious answer instead of dawdling . And he controls some remote features of the headquarters. He's constantly playing videogames and answers questions without even looking up. His brain is probably in constant activity, figuring things out, forming deductions and conclusions. This is the scientist side of Eggman. The one that holds 300 IQ and internally goes, "I'm surrounded by idiots." The one which is unable to get along with anyone because no one can think on his motive and level.

And then there's Babble, aka the angry baby.

One would think why someone like Eggman would have a baby as a part of his personality, right? Well, this baby is the most like Eggman out of all of them. Hear me out! Dr. Babble represents the anger and ruthlessness in Eggman. Babble, out of all of them, is Eggman's evil side. Babble loves torturing his victims and enjoys it, he demands that they harm their opponents and is merciless. Babble represents the part of Eggman that... destroyed the moon (get out of my head Snapcube dubs), unleashed the Metal Virus, Roboticizes mobians, all the mean stuff. And finally, the baby whines, a lot. All of Eggman's whining is squeezed in this one tiny baby.

Finally, the main member, Mister Dr. Eggman.

In my opinion, this guy is the aspect of Eggman that gloats and showboats. The one who gets absolutely smug and giddy if the plans are working, the part of Eggman that lets out those loud evil cackles and monologues. The face, so to speak. He is the part that makes Eggman go overconfident or reveal his plans or manipulates or banters, the part that makes him put his face as a logo on everything, the part that makes him build showy mechs and aircrafts and stuff.

Now that these people are discussed as various aspects of Eggman, let's get to the third and final major reason which indicates why the alternates are aspects of the originals; the Prism shards. When the Paradox Prism broke, it was broken up into five shards; yellow, red, blue, green, purple. There are five shards and five Eggman alternates.

But wait.

Why are there five alternates of Eggman when we have only come across three for the rest of the characters? Why don't the numbers add up? Well, good question. And my theory is that since the Prism broke up into five shards, there should be five sets of everything! Five shards, five Shatterworlds, five sets of alternates. There are already five of Eggman. This means there are still two shards missing and two sets of alternates we haven't seen. We know the purple shard belongs to The Grim because its gateway was purple and its entrance was in the shape of the purple shard. And we haven't seen Rouge's main alternate like we've seen Nine, Thorn and Dread. That's going to be the world where the yellow shard resides.

But this all leaves another mystery. Five shards means five worlds and five sets of alternates, right? We already know about all five alternates of Eggman, we already know the colors of the five shards (Red, Green, Blue, Yellow, Purple), and we know about four of the five worlds while the one associated with yellow shard hasn't been shown in the series yet. That world would contain its own set of alternates. That makes four sets of alternates. What about the fifth? Where are the alternates that, logically, should belong to The Grim? Where are they? Excluding yellow, what happened to the fifth world and its alternates? Where is the purple Shard that is associated with The Grim? What happened to this world and its inhabitants?

[afreakingdork]

Weak Spot - Chapter 53

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

That's going in the locket: chapter art by @garbagemilkshake

Warnings: Aged-up Turtles, Romance, Meet Cute, Villain Donatello, Cussing, Crushes, Xenophobia, Fear, Intimidation, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hurt/Comfort, Love, AFAB Reader, Vaginal Sex, Sex Rough, Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Creampie, Teasing, Scent Kink, Sexual Tension, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Marathon Sex, Somnophilia, Bondage, Feral Behavior, Feral Donatello, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Public Sex, Dom Donnie, Human/Turtle Relationships, Turtle Noises, Roleplay, Sexual Roleplay

Synopsis:  A love story of villainous proportions! Though it hadn’t come easily, as these things rarely do, you found yourself in a whirlwind romance with a handsome and mysterious mutant. His idiosyncrasies had been easy to ignore as attraction grew into something more. However, will love endure when the unknowns about him end up being far darker than you ever considered?

We talked about it all the way in August, but making creative use of Donnie's glasses has finally come to fruition! Shout out to @hijinxensues for giving me the idea even though it sort of deviated wildly...

Fem!Reader References/Warnings Below Cut

Also available on Ao3

First 💜 Previous

LAST WARNING FOR THE 🍋 UNDER THE CUT. MINORS DNI!

Fem!Reader References/Warnings: slit, lips (labia kind), clit, womb, impregnation discussion, cunt, ovulation, and pregnancy scare

Scrubbing through the gentle smell of grapefruit, you were deep cleaning the kitchen. Having taken everything off the counters, it wasn’t a lengthy process. The space wasn’t large and it was probably due for this treatment more often. Donnie had some sort of machine that kept everything a base level of tidy, but there was something about getting it clean yourself.

Having someone there to pass the time with while doing it also helped tremendously.

“I’m not even his point of contact!” You huffed, polishing the faucet.

Donnie clicked his tongue.

“So now he’s imprinted on me like a baby duck and needs so much damn attention.” You hunched over the sink and blew out an annoyed breath. “That’s not how any of this works!”

“The joys of working with others.” You felt Donnie roll his eyes.

“Yeah…” Rinsing what was available down, you watched the suds go down the drain. “Got any fun Spencer stories?”

“Not in your sense.”

“You ever try to get rid of him?” You wiped up some escaped droplets.

“No.”

“That’s sort of surprising. It seemed like he drove you nuts.” Leaning back, you looked over your work.

“His disposition is not one I care for, but he is effective.”

“Gets the job done?” You turned around and studied the stove for stray particulates.

“Quite.”

“Guess who else does?” You turned and made a great show of plucking one of your gloves off.

In his spot on the couch, Donnie had long rotated his whole body to watch you. Very much in the position of an excited child, he had both his elbows craned to the armrest and supporting his head. With his noggin lolled ever so slightly to one side, he had been in nearly this same position since you started cleaning.

“Have you been watching me the whole time?” You stripped your other glove and approached.

“Yes.”

“Did I miss a spot?”

“Three.”

You doubled back to the kitchen. “Dang, where?”

“Top right of the microwave, door above the trash, and the backsplash tile one up and three to the right from the right front burner knob.”

Acute instructions, you made quick work of finding the exact dirt that had been left behind.

You heard him hum a satisfied sound.

“I’ll get you a white glove next time.” You teased, walking over a second time.

“I’ve seen that, for dust.”

“Yup.” You debated throwing your hip onto the armrest just to knock him off.

“Not a germaphobe.” He reminded you.

“Just cleanly…” You mused, remembering just the way he’d said it before you realized how it seemingly contradicted this moment. “Then why are you judging me?”

“Presumptuous.”

You narrowed your gaze. “I’d like to take my question again.

He arched an interested brow.

You squared your hips before folding over to catch the couch on either side of his arms and stare right into his face. “Then why are you watching me?”

The sprouted smile on his lips said you chose well.

You tilted your head to wait.

“Enjoying the show.”

You snorted upright. “Really?”

He nodded matter-of-factly.

Looking down at yourself, you were wearing a particularly aged set of pajamas that you didn’t mind if a stray drop of bleach got onto it. Face coated in only moisturizer, you’d barely remembered to slap deodorant on. This version of you was made for staying in and tidying up. “Uh huh…”

“Do you disagree?”

“With what?” You chuckled. “I can’t really judge what you want to pay attention to!” 

A flick of his pupils read thought. “I’ll take a second.”

You went to put the cleaning supplies away. “Go ahead.”

“Do you need reassurance?”

You bobbed where you were tossing stuff under a cabinet. “For my self-esteem? No, no. Your taste confuses me sometimes.”

“I appreciate looks just for me.”

Closing the cabinet, you lifted with a crease in your lips. “I’m sorry to say I didn’t get all dolled up for you. This fit has seen many cleaning days.”

“Done in your home.”

“I guess…” You went about putting things back on the counters.

“For comfort and yourself.”

“That’s pretty much what I said…” You placed the rice cooker.

“Ergo, a personal look.”

“Sure.” You shook your head, not seeing his point.

“Only for you, happenstance for me.”

You took a step towards him, but didn’t leave the threshold of the kitchen. “You’re saying you like it because it’s only for me, but you get to peek behind the curtain since we live together?”

His snout twitched as he hadn’t liked your wording. “In a way.”

“Stolen moments that should be for me?” You tried something in his flavor.

A lift of brows said it was savored.

“You voyeur you!” You feigned a scandalous gasp and headed around the perimeter to see if anything needed dusting.

You heard the couch cushions shift as he openly tracked you.

“Not bad…” You peeked around the back of the TV to find it tidy. “I guess that was it since I did the bathroom a few days ago.”

Donnie didn’t make a sound and you circled the couch just to see how far he’d go. In your periphery, you watched him turn all the way around until he was looking over the back of the sofa at you.

“Smell check.” You approached him and held out a hand.

His head lowered, but his gaze sat narrowly into your eyes. “Satisfactory.”

“Your new cleaning solution is a hit then.”

“Already passed to marketing.”

You hummed faint interest and purposefully headed into the bedroom.

You felt him at a nervous attention behind you.

“Might change…” You spoke and tried to keep your voice even.

Silence bore into your back.

“Kinda restless…” You pretended to mourn your day off and headed out of his sight toward the dresser.

Within seconds, his presence chased you.

Sensing he’d stopped, you spun around with fake claws out. “Gotcha!”

He didn’t jump, but made a little curious trill at your act.

“You’re not just watching, you’re staring!”

He rolled his eyes to the ceiling and then back down to you as if he didn’t know what you were talking about.

“You’re avoiding talking because I’ll catch one of your terrible lies.” You hung your head to one knowledgeable side.

Caught with a soft squeak, he puffed his cheeks out guilty before returning his gaze to you.

“Now that I’m thinking about it, even this morning: when I woke up you were already there looking at me.”

He sighed, put out. “Memory.”

You tilted your head in wait.

You watched the move strike him as adorable and he had to shake off its subduing quality.

Your smile grew especially fond.

He gave a sharp exhale to recompose himself before looking you over. “It appears our puppy love phase is beginning to pass.”

“What!?”

He held up a hand. “From what I’ve read, that is how these things progress. The names are inexact, but it gives away to mature love. I only wish to encapsulate this moment.”

You stared.

“There are benefits to both, but the change has made me unsettled among other things…” His gaze slid to the side. “I do not want things to remain the same, but I’m struggling with the rapid pace.”

In a single step, you were buried into his torso.

He stood with his arms out to accommodate you before tenting his limbs around you. “I do not require consolation.”

You shook your head, scrubbing into his plastron. “I disagree.”

He squeezed your shoulder in a fold. “No, I feel relatively stable. I would only prefer to continue my vigil.”

“Not that.” You lifted enough so your chin was still buried in his chest, but you could look up at him. “I still have a massive crush on you.”

He blinked down his body at you, eyes wide.

“Obviously I don’t know what the future holds with us, but, right now, I’m living it up. I have you, life’s been going well, I’m terrified to jinx it, but I’m happy.”  

“Paramount...” He spoke with softness and traced a careful finger against your head.

You ducked and spoke into his plastron. “Also, there’s no restrictions on our love. I’m not sure what you read, but there should have been something about everyone being different.”

You felt him nod.

“What triggered this?” You appeared only to check on him. “Mikey?”

Donnie put on what almost seemed like a face plate of disgust.

You squeezed him tighter.

“I’d prefer you to note Hypno. Once is a coincidence, twice however”

“How I’ve been texting new people?”

“It sets a record of seeking companionship in others as mine isn’t as alluring.” He forced himself to watch you even though his cheeks took on color.

“Silly man.” You freed him so you could pull him down.

He came with ease and butted up against your head.

You held him in place to furiously nuzzle him until he gave a relenting puff of laughter. “Friends are different and you have no reason to be jealous.”

“I’m not.” He pulled back enough to look you sternly in the eye. “Removing how I would never consider those two threats in that regard, I don’t consider it such.”

“Then what is it?”

He hummed. “Not self-loathing, but that I might no longer have the same command of intrigue.”

You paused and looked away through recent memories before returning. “Because you’ve let me top? Because you’re running out of secrets?”

His cheeks turned several more shades and his lips quivered into an upset line.

“Donatello…”

He surfaced a little at the use of his full name.

“I love you.” You found his cheek and brushed it. “There’s no grand reveal. You’ll never run out of new things for me to find interesting about you. I’ll never know everything because we’re different people and we’re always changing and growing. Just like how you keep finding things out about yourself.”

You watched him process the information with a growing gleam to his eye. Washed out by it, he gave a quick screwed shut close before his lips parted. “I…”

Your heart bypassed whatever stop point was in your throat and seemed to only be caught by your skull.

“I…” He tried again, taking a deep breath.

You hadn’t told him.

You hadn’t mentioned you knew he was practicing.

That lately you’d forced yourself to stay awake every night to hear his exercise in confessions.

“Lo-“ His entire being twitched and unsteady hands caught your arms to hold on.

You shifted to hold his biceps and resisted with your entire being to interrupt him.

He knew.

He knew he didn’t have to.

You didn’t need to remind him.

He needed this chance.

Twine breaking, he wilted with an exhale that kept going on and on.

You slid past his arm to rub his carapace, soothingly. “I love you.”

“Making fun.” He tucked into your throat before nosing to your mating mark.

“Am not.” You leaned your head against his.

He snorted his disagreement and kissed through your shirt to his possession.

“You did good. I’m proud of you.”

“That must be ridicule.” He extracted himself and huffed to the air.

“I’m not!” You bumped him with your weight.

He looked down with a certain level of mirth.

“You know…” You led, tilting down before realizing you weren’t wearing it. “Can I…?”

He released you with a sweeping gesture.

You gave a similarly played up bow before going to grab your necklace. “I’ve never been able to decide on a picture for this.”

“We’ve taken many.”

“And they’re good, but not like… good enough!” You pouted and thumbed over the item so it would open. “I thought of maybe snipping off part of your mask tails while you were sleeping.”

He chuffed into a chuckle.

“They're a dime a dozen though. You’ve got tons.” You sighed. “Getting professional photos could be fine. We should get some sometime, but that’s not what I want for this.”

“Is this one of those ‘you’ll know it when you see it’ type of situation?”

“Yes!” You turned to him with a tinkling as the locket swung in your grasp.

“Not professional…?” He folded his hand over his chin and lips in thought.

“It’s gotta be candid. I wish I could have caught one of those laughs of yours!”

“Shall we discuss a trade with S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. for security footage?”

Your gaze dulled. “Not this again.”

Donnie mirrored you. “He has yet to relent.”

Ever since getting his new body, S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. had been having a blast shoving his way into society. Something you happily indulged in as his joy seemingly knew no bounds, it was his current route that neither you nor Donnie wanted to partake in. While he considered himself a New Yorker in a literal born and bred sort of sense, he lamented particular parts of the city he supposedly missed. No matter how much his father or you tried to persuade him otherwise, he couldn’t get the thought out of his head.

He wanted to act like a tourist and go through the quintessential New York City spots.

Time’s Square was a useless blinking beacon that offered absolutely nothing by way of a local.

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. reveled in the thought of the grime and gawk.

The beauty of the Empire State building was best seen from a distance.

Even with the funds to skip the line, S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. insisted the two minutes enjoying the view would be worth it.

The only real unbelievable thing about Madame Tussauds was the stale smell.

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. figured this was his only chance to get a photo with a famous person.

“I keep telling him I’ll do Junior’s and that’s it.” You grumbled.

“Why he continues to want to go to restaurants is beyond me.” Donnie looked close to leaving his body.

“We’re not doing that.”

“Never.”

You cracked a smile at the camaraderie and moved to plop down on the bed with your necklace still in hand. “Hey, Mr. Voyeur.”

“Rejected pseudonym.”

You chuckled. “They were your cameras first right?”

“Yes.” He lazily approached.

“Have you always liked to watch?”

His gaze narrowed with faint ire. “It’s not about watching. It’s about knowledge.”

“Except with me. Right now.”

“Memory is a form of knowledge.” He argued.

“I’m saying…” You leaned out, biting your tongue lightly at the precarious nature and tried to tap him with your foot. “You want to watch and I want a candid pic of you.”

He stepped close enough so your toe would connect with his leg. “New cameras?”

“Not for forever, I’m still not completely okay with the ones watching us here. Something… I don’t know… Maybe a 24 hour thing? Could be fun. Pretend we’re on a reality TV show.”

Donnie’s beak scrunched.

“Candid!” You complained, letting your leg drop. “Don’t act… Oh! I know…” You lowered your lids and beckoned him.

He came with an unimpressed air.

You urged him to kneel and he did so with a kiss pressed to your knee.

Flushing lightly, you dipped your fingers under his chin.

“How about this? The footage will be yours to do with as you wish. Every second…” With a purse of your lips you coaxed him closer. “No matter what we do…”

You watched his pupils adjust as he considered the possibility. “Clarification: you’re suggesting we make a sex tape?”

Your digits twitched away from him and your cheeks darkened. “Not on purpose, but if it happens during that time period…”

“If that’s allowed, it will occur.” A faint churr husked his voice

“It is.”

You were pinned with him hovering above you before you could blink. “But what you’re offering…”

You stared up at him with your heart thudding out your chest. “You miss me a lot while I’m at work, don’t you?”

A possessive churr rolled out of him as he dropped to kiss you into the mattress.

You allowed him and meant for the moment to extend except he hoisted himself up and away. “You confirm this?”

“Yes.” You tugged lightly at his arms.

He only gave you a wry glance. “Save it. Can we commence tomorrow?”

You threw your head back knowing you’d already lost him to science. “How? You already have cameras?”

“No, but a simple build. If I start now, I can have at least five done by the end of day.”

“Five?!”

“Angles!” He cheered, extracting himself from the bed. “Free roving, covert, but with a certain level of intelligence…”

He continued to list factors and you sighed with a little needy wiggle into the sheets.

-

As promised, before bed you were introduced to five small purple UFOs. All hovering silently and barely as big as baseballs, their flying saucer like bases were topped with tiny domes that Donnie explained housed cameras with a full range of motion. Something about focal lengths and zooms, the camera jargon went over your head as you took a step. The entire army turned with your attention and you wondered what you had gotten yourself into.

“When fully active they will attempt to stay out of sight.” Donnie continued on, nonplussed.

“What are they set to right now?” You waved your hand at one to see if you could notice camera movement.

It betrayed little.

“Demonstration.” Donnie mused. “Shall I start them so you can see?”

“No, that’s… that’s alright.”

“Having second thoughts?” He stepped forward with a cautious guard.

“Huh?” You looked at him. “No, I just… It’s strange, your creations usually have so much life.”

Donnie’s brow furrowed.

“B.E.D.F.A.S.T. has a personality. Even the entire system under Darling Protocol seems sassy like you.”

Though it made little sense to him, he settled at your explanation. “They are me.”

“Yeah…” You stepped close to the camera bots and held out a hand to take one.

It came so you cradle it like a floating balloon just above your palm. The others rotated to monitor their brethren.

“It’s hard to describe, but I’m not getting much off these guys.”

Donnie stepped up to your side. “They’re rudimentary. Little directive.”

You hummed faint interest and reached above with your other hand to touch the bot.

It dodged you only enough to back into a formation of sorts.

“Oops…”

“They’re protecting their shells from fingerprints.” Donnie explained, intently watching you. “Are you sure this is alright?”

“Yes.” You let your arms fall. “I’m all in. I’m also wondering how it’ll feel, being watched all day.”

“Precisely why you won’t see them. It’ll be as if they aren’t there.”  

You quirked a smile, still staring at the squad. “You better not play up your reactions.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Donnie murmured, getting close. “I’m sure you’ll get your photo.”

You settled into his touch. “Start the clock before we wake up.”

“Oh?” He rumbled into the shell of your ear.

You nodded. “Can’t wait to show you how you toss and turn.”

He snorted minor irritation and you chased after him in jest.

-

You sort of thought it was going to be a bigger thing. Waking before Donnie in what you imagined was anticipation, you kept waiting for it to be. You’d risen slowly and rubbed your eyes in a way you imagined happened in cartoons. Too aware of yourself for your own good, you examined the empty expanse of the apartment. True to his words, you didn’t see the cams, but that didn’t mean you hadn’t spent most of the morning trying to capture them.

Spinning around without warning and jumping across thresholds, you’d even flicked water everywhere while washing your face to try to catch a glimpse of one. All for nothing and with a minor scolding from Donnie, you slowly forgot they were there around the point the two of you had planned a lunch in the park. Something where you purchased a packed lunch from a local shop that specializes in it, your partner laid out a thick blanket of his design. Something that would supposedly deter bugs, had waterproof layering, and was downy against the cold grass. The weather was shiny and bright, if not chilly, but comfortable as you shared a thermos.

The ensuing walk afterwards had been something particularly cute after you found some stray leaves lined up on a bridge. Remembering something from your childhood, you wove a couple into a tiny vessel and dropped it down to the water. Landing a little on its side, the leaf raft righted itself to float. Turning your excitement on Donnie, you were soon going back and forth creating boats until some children joined in. Encouraging them along, one in particular stared at Donnie.

Not unaccustomed to that type of attention, Donnie had tried to urge the child to return to his friend, but the kid only hugged a toy he was lugging around closer. Your boyfriend looked to you for help, but you were busy supervising two other boys who seemed to be looking for an excuse to quarrel. Donnie soon relented by stooping to the boy’s level in more ways than one and asking him if there was something he wanted.

The child thought it over for a minute before holding his toy out.

Donnie received it with a furrowed brow and watched on, growing more perplexed as the kid then spun around to join his friends in making leaf boats.

Turning the bulky action figure over, Donnie sought you with his eyes.

You met them and signed to him to keep it safe.

Realizing he’d been chosen for such a heroic mission touched your mate.

Hitting some fierce part inside of him, he showed great care in executing his task and it was only then you remembered the cameras. Pleading that they had captured the expression on his face when he’d seen the truth of the matter, you watched Donnie dote on the toy until the boys lost interest. The figure was returned to its rightful owner and with some half-hearted thank yous, the two of you were on your own once again.

Strolling around a winding path, you caught Donnie checking his palms a few times.

“Was it sticky?” You asked, knowing full well that wasn’t the worry.

“Disinfectant would be appreciated.” He clasped a tight fist.

“Good job.” You brushed your arm against his. “My protector.”

“I wasn’t protecting you.” He hummed a correction.

“Ah, you can only handle one at a time. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Hardly.” He rolled his eyes to you.

“Let’s get ice cream.”

“It’s freezing.” He sneered.

“So? I want to shove a cone in your face.”

“Ah, yes. That changes everything. Let me amend…” He held suspense.

You slowed to watch him.

“Ab-so-lute-ly not.” He enunciated loudly.

“You never let me do anything fun.” You threw a dramatic hand over your eyes.

“Rolled ice.”

You peeked from under your limb. “Hm?”

“Dragon’s breath.”

“And now you’re saying words.” You brought your arm down.

He shook his head and unearthed his phone. He came near to show you as he pulled up a texting window with S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.

Speed reading as he scrolled, your heart warmed at how casual their conversation seemed. It felt like how a father and son would text and you imagined the thread itself was not something that had existed long.

Clicking an indiscriminate link, a video loaded and talked up a new shop in the area. A delight of pastels and misty pourings of liquid nitrogen, it showed rose petal sheets of ice cream being scooped into cups and topped with various sweets.

“What, that’s cool!”

“Terrible pun.” Donnie remarked, staring to catch the address and then switching to a map app to make sure he knew how to get to the shop.

“I didn’t mean it.” You pouted.

“Sixteen minute walk?” He asked, ignoring your plight.

“Sure.” You perked up.

Adjusting the roll of the blanket in its satchel form around his body, Donnie put his phone away and led. Walking beside him and talking through something with hand gestures about paper airplanes you and some friends had made as kids, the chill got hold of your nose. The first sign of something deeper, you rubbed your sleeve to the tip in an attempt to stave it off.

Arriving at the shop found it to be one without seating, but walking in was welcomed warmth. Not as toasty as it could be for its produced product, the otherwise bored employees perked up at your arrival. You chatted casually with the two about the viral video as you got something with those rose florets you had seen. With a drizzle of cream and sprinkles, you were passed your treat along with a flat sort of spoon. Sneaking a bite before paying, you heard Donnie repeat his earlier medieval phrasing and eyed the girls as they laughed about his choice in this weather.

Taking it in stride, he snuck a glance at you while the spoon was between your lips. You smiled coyly around it and he cocked a smug brow that made you curious what he was up to. The employees went through motions getting a cup, but turned around to some sort of specialized machine to make whatever he had ordered. Pouring liquid nitrogen and watching waves of flicking steam drift off, Donnie was soon passed a bunch of cute pastel orbs. He felt no need to examine them and instead chose to pay and walk out of the store with you trailing behind.

“What is that?” You asked genially and flinched as the cold outside was starting to match your innards.

“Cereal.” He spoke simply.

“How?” From the overflowing pile, they looked more like huge candy colored cheese puffs. 

Not giving an answer and instead a demonstration, Donnie lifted a long toothpick in hand. A sort of skewer, he stabbed into the top most green ball and lifted it to his overly widened mouth. Staring down his maw as he chomped down on it. He glinted you a knowing smile before he exhaled.

Smoke forced itself out of the cracks of his mouth and leaked little steam from his nostrils as he chewed.

“Wha…?”

“The name denotes the reaction.” He explained having downed the first.

“I wanna try!”

He held out a skewered ball to you.

Biting down, it had a subdued flavor, but your gaze flew around at the smoke you produced.

Laughing in what you imagined was hearty puffs, you switched back to your ice cream as Donnie nibbled on his. Taking multiple at a time, he teased you with a growl. It was hard to pretend to be scared when he concocted ferocious imagery. Something you’d once thought came from an inferno, he always subverted expectations. Whittling down the cauldron that gave him potion based powers, he quieted into a foggy calm.

By the time you found the bottom of your cup, you were shivering.

Waiting for your partner to mention it, he only offered to toss your trash and continued to walk down the sidewalk. Tucking in near him, but not quite touching, you closed up your body in an attempt to preserve the little warmth you had left. Watering down what was already rationed, there was nothing to sustain the move. You went to telegraph this to Donnie, but found him making a clear left.

Chasing behind and hearing a rattle as your teeth tried to chatter, you squeezed down on your jaw. Enough that it waned the muscle, but stopped the involuntary movement, you worried that it was getting hard to translate your discomfort. He’d usually have noticed by now and would have switched to doting. As far as you could recall, you hadn’t done anything to upset him and seeing you afflicted probably wasn’t the sort of photographs he wanted.

It made little sense, but rationalizations were quickly falling off as you could only think about how your marrow was solidifying. Cold taking over your mind, you imagined burying into your partner's large coat and him wrapping you up in it. It was the action that you found growing more difficult by the second. You needed a bump to get through even making those dreams a reality. Summoning the little strength you had left, you meant to use it to rub your arms down enough so you could interpret your discomfort, but you found Donnie was outpacing you by several steps.

Opening your mouth to call to him only revealed the chattering teeth toy in your mouth.

You were forced to use your reserves to catch up with him. 

“This way.” Donnie spoke an icy breeze.

Keep up.

Cold.

Too fast.

Cold.

Right turn.

Cold.

It was too much and the threat of hot tears instead felt like ice cubes ready to be dispensed by a noisy fridge. You pulled desperately at your thin scarf. Not enough to capture your thin breath, the moisture you generated with it against your lips only served to further chill your skin. Lagging more and more behind, you unearthed your hands into the icy burn and tapped your cheeks.

You couldn’t feel them.

Flexing your fingers in case it was them, you caught how nail beds had paled in a worrying way.   

That was bad.

Having hit your human limit, you stared helplessly at your partner’s casual form a little too far in front of you.

“D-D-D-D-” You clattered.

“Up ahead.” He gestured.

Where?

You couldn’t look.

You could make out little past him.

You weren’t in actual danger.

You knew that.

Cold’s clutches were dramatic.

You’d enter some warm building and washing your hands would sting.

You’d be fine.

That still didn’t help the persistence of the chill.

It demanded attention in a different way then heat did.

Heat lapped at you.

Heat held a sweaty grip and wrung you out.

True cold hit like a freight.

As soon as you were past the point of no return, it was all consuming.

Heat took its time boiling you alive.

Cold wanted you to know every agonizing second.

Even if you couldn’t feel it.

“You first.” Donnie held a door.

You refused to let your limbs leave the safety of your body and waddled inside like the penguin you now were.

Warmth holding her arm’s out for a lover’s embrace, you threw yourself into it and gasped to get that heat inside you.

It entered along with a familiar musk.

You blinked past freeze to take in the space.

It was the bottom floor of your apartment building.

Spinning around to Donnie, he was just inside with the door closed behind him.

“W-w-we’re h-home?”

He stood an odd withheld and his gaze hard trained on you. 

“W-w-what?”

“Elevator, now.” He swept past you, all coat, as he slammed the key with enough force that you thought the button would break.

Shuffling up behind him, he was bouncing irritation as it arrived.

“Go.” He growled, staring forward and you lumbered past him into the box. Only then did he step in and slam the panel. Again imagining broken keys in his wake, the ride up was a taunt one. Your partner seemed to be all fury and if it was because you neglected to tell him your state, it seemed like an odd reaction.

Wouldn’t warming you up come first?

He could complain after setting things right.

That’s what he normally did.

Sinking as much into your coat as it would allow, your skin resisted the temperature change. Too slow to thaw, you settled into a minor shake and hoped the vibrations would be enough to crack the ice. Arriving at your floor before they could, this time you were the first in motion to keep another demand off his lips. You beat him to the apartment where the door unlocked and you slipped stinging fingers around the knob.

It opened with the clunk of the mechanism which sounded particularly sharp to your numb ears.

Pushing into the apartment, you assumed its differential was probably a pleasant one, but it still hadn’t reached you. You needed to be buried in blankets now; a shower could come later. You were rushing toward the bedroom when your partner caught you.

A scalding wrap, you squeaked out of concern. “D-Donnie?!”

“Idiot.” He hissed and pressed the whole of his body against the back of yours.

“M-mean-!” You had so many more complaints, but the effort of them was an iceberg on your tongue.

“Stupid, stupid…” He grumbled and shoved a hand down into your coat.

You whimpered waiting for his icy clutches, but found his appendage held a tidy warmth. “Wha…?”

Swiping up and then back down, he got through your next two layers until his hot hand found your skin. There he flattened out his palm and rubbed furiously.

You moaned in delight and threw your head back into him. “Warm…”

He said nothing more as his other scalding hand caught yours. Focusing on friction, he continued to rub heavily against your skin until your jacket slacked. Zipper forced down from the ministrations, your muscles had relaxed to the point where it threatened to slip off. Melding to your partner as if he was the key to the furnace, you attempted to turn.

Instead of something smooth, he swallowed you up. His mouth, something scorching, didn’t bother kissing you and acted as you thought his foreshadowing should. Not ice, but fire, he breathed the hot smoke that suffocated your lungs. It spoke of his starvation meant to eat you and you became the storied damsel with no means of rescue.

You had protests once, you thought.

Long ago, in the cold times, there had been something.

He was mad.

That was his fault, wasn’t it?

No, you’d asked for ice cream.

No, he’d walked that absurd route home.

It was something long and twisting, far from a normal route.

How long had it been?

You’d taken public transit hadn’t you?

It all seemed so long ago, like asking someone to recall the specifics from childhood.

There were feelings.

You hadn’t been cold then.

That was one.

However long, it was a duration where only just now after several long minutes of scrubbing that you start to make out the threads in Donnie’s sweater.

Something plush and easy to sink into, it held delicious body heat.

Not anything artificial, that life blood boil kept you moving.

You could figure out the bad feelings later.

Whether it be to push all the blame or take part.

You could settle for a participation trophy.

For now, he was doing an excellent job of making up for it.

Enough so that your out of body experience was one that had you hovering around. A dart and dash to capture all angles, you watched him squeeze and grab your body like it were dough needing gluten development. Your coat had long fallen to the floor and your outer layer was working its way to be the next. His hands maneuvered an internal path, only paying mind to keep from shoving the fabrics up and exposing you.

You were something to behold, something to covet and not for the cameras. At least not yet, as your hands dug with their newfound life into his lapels. You must have grabbed, from the angle it was squished between your body and unseen, but it forced Donnie to take only a momentary step back.

Palms appearing in one of the few flashes of skin, you pushed his coat clean off his shoulders. Arms akimbo caught it and his arms swooped to catch something. Only a momentary dip, he flicked back to let his coat drop before he was back on you. Passing something into your hands like a secret agent, he moved further with this mission of pillaging your very soul, he tended to the tiny embers that had begun to glow. Adding a nest of wood shavings and blowing in desperation, you came alive with a weak flame.

Whatever he’d given had a latent heat. 

A squeeze found it to be hand warmers. 

That was why his hands had scalded you. 

You might have been upset on what he’d held out on if ecstasy hadn’t had you twisting the white packets between your fingers. 

By the time feeling returned to your nose, you were dragged back into your body. Blinking through your new perspective, you found him laving at your neck and pouring his heat directly into your carotid artery. Something the clean opposite of vampiric, he was your victim and you were the one siphoning away his existence without effort. It was only a momentary stoking of some ancient hunger, but you were thankful for his sacrifice. Wanting to give him a paltry gift in exchange, you pecked his cheek.

His head came away in a stark contrast of stillness as his hands continued their plight. He found your eyes through his watery one and you wondered what he had to cry about. Giving him another quick kiss to about the same spot, he offered a smile. Feeling the edges of returning it, he sealed his mouth over yours properly.

The first probably since you’d left the house, it stalled his hands. It left both of you suspended, tethered to only one spot before all at once you melted together. Heat catching up in a desert gust, you were both moving now. Slipping through your fingers like articles of clothing, you needed those silly barriers keeping your bodies apart gone.

The true warmth could only be found there and you needed it welded to you. It’d come off him in sticky waves even through the unrelenting press of his plastron. Something wholly him and only his, you pulled a little too hard on an upswing against his sweater. Cooked delirium from the wildly shifting temperatures meant you momentarily forgot his height and the momentum toppled you.

In a feral crouch, he came around you with a hand cradled to save your head. You languished in his hold, eyes beaming trust up at him that he clearly didn’t think he deserved. In a form of shame, he ducked down into the rest of you that had hit the icy floor and scooped you up. Curling into him and wishing he could realize this was the solution, you were soon tossed in similarly chilled sheets. Whining your displeasure, he crawled up, your space heater, to root around it and you.

It amounted to kicking the sheets free and tangling the blanket around your hips. Catching him on a round, you pulled him back to you where he held little chirping protests as he hadn’t finished building his nest. You could tell him that he mattered more warmth why, but instead you buried your face into his clavicle. His upper plastron bit your chin, but you scrubbed with understanding about why he’d favored your neck so. It was a hotbed and you nosed it for your comfort as his hands groped your neglected legs.

Hiking them high around him, he tucked your knees to his sides and folded his arms over them as he worked. It was an attention to detail that you adored as he directed your legs downward into the spiral of linens. 

You needed him pressed to your torso.

You needed his heart close to yours.

Life blood to life blood.

The exchange wasn’t one that was near complete.

Flexing your thighs, you found you could create a friction against the warmth of his shell by rubbing the hinge. A sort of flammable firmness, you rocked your knees as if pedaling some unseen bike. A contraption jerry-rigged to create electricity, it was meant to be stored, but it seemed to be lost to the chemical reaction. Mourning it, you folded your shins around his carapace, trying to trap what you could. It pulled the him that was stroking down your legs forward and he allowed himself to fall into your space. Squished pleasantly under his weight and warmth, you moaned a satisfaction as this was an approximation of what you were looking for.

Something all encompassing and not going away, you abandoned where your hands were searching for momentary reprieve and enveloped him. Trying your best to hold him in place with your limbs, he puffed hot air against your cheek and dotted kisses to your hairline. It helped to an extent, but the damn scales of the universe tipped as keeping him there meant your limbs were now exposed. Whining as you couldn’t fathom a solution that didn’t leave some part of you wanting, Donnie pulled away.

You nearly sobbed as a chill ran over your preheated body.

He chirped a wobbly response back that spoke of bitter duty.

Leaving the bed entirely, he left you to curl up and try to absorb the far too little heat he had left you with. It meant a pathetic roll side to side in a fetal position. Your knees held the most of him and you tried to press that straight into your heart. Not making the same connection, a rapid padding said your mate returned and you made a sorry mewl to call him.

He made sound after sound of reassurance as he caught hold of your knees. He might have rolled you onto your back and split them had you not immediately fallen open waiting for him. Tucking his torso back between your legs, he encouraged you to return your limbs. Knowing the cost of that, you resisted faintly, until he insisted. Giving in and wrapping around him, he swooped his arm back and pulled something.

A huge blanket appeared in a tidal wave and crashed somewhere above your head.

Now plunged into a form of darkness, you jostled quietly as Donnie resumed his stroking. Again warmth blossomed and the cover caused a soft echo of his breath. Not something you could see, but tangible nonetheless, each puff entered the trap. A new source of heat, it bathed you until no part of you was left without.

Mercury hitting an acceptable level, you tugged your partner from his duty. He came with reluctance, little squeaks that said there was more to do until you found his mouth with a few open swipes. Teeth clinking in hunger, he found a new way to soothe you and let a metered amount of weight sink you into the bed. Something simple, but delicious, you moaned against his lips.

He swallowed it up and gave you more with the push of his tongue. An even exchange, you drank him in with minor wiggles as you wanted more of him. He obliged, placing small amounts on the scales until your rib cage protested and threatened your air. Another thing you stole from him, you settled with thinking that for now it would do until you could find some way to subvert the alarm.

Wrapped up in every sense of the word, kisses petered off until you simply had your mouths together for the sake of the intimacy. You grew drowsy in the embrace and from the very exertion of being cold. That shaking now a foreign thing, you broke the lip lock only because your neck went slack. Sleep whispering in your ear, you coaxed your mate closer. He came, burying his head beside yours so you could lean against him. Settling like that until you could feel the breath that lifted and animated his frame, you were about to commit to a nap when your lips moved against it.

“What happened?”

You didn’t really want to know.

You wanted to sleep.

“The usual.” He mumbled into the sheets. “Messed up.”

“You or me?” You vaguely remembered him being mad.

He gave a deep sigh before he rose up.

Your eyes had adjusted and you could see the faint lines of his features.

“A last minute addition to our plans.”

“Hm?”

“You asking for ice cream. I initially rejected the idea… until I came up with another.”

“Dragon’s breath.” You remembered.

He shook his head, heavy with guilt. “I realized I could make you cold.”

You squinted, trying to parse out what you were missing.

“If you were chilled…” He lowered to nose your cheek. “You’d want me more. Imagine you needy on film. Desperately clinging as I warmed you up inside and out.”

The word ‘film’ momentarily struck you as odd, until the point of the day crashed around you. “Oh shit, the cameras.” Your gaze darted around the blanket and you reached up to knock it off. “We can still-!”

He caught your hand and pressed a heated kiss to your knuckles. “None of that.”

“But…”

“I took it too far. Misjudged your tolerance.”

You peeled your fingers free to curl over his. “I kept waiting for you to notice. I thought you were mad at me.”

His lips parted slow. “Mad at myself. It became imperative to get you upstairs and back to a safe temperature as quickly as possible. That is all I care about.”

“Aren’t I one now?” You shifted and found you were straddling him high around the middle point of his plastron.

“I haven’t taken a reading in awhile…” He extracted an arm from where it was buried beside you and a screen projected out of his tech gauntlet. “You’re doing better.”

“Feels like it.”

“Rest.” He urged, turning the hologram off and moving to tuck his body back against yours.

You lay there, wide awake for a long moment. Flipping back and forth over whether to be annoyed with him or yourself, your body simply refused to hold that kind of heat.  Whether it was something you gave away, you didn’t know, but it all seemed a typical sort of plight. Donnie miscalculating and you relying too much on him to solve them, you weren’t used to these mistakes, per say, but it showed there was always room to grow. You would continue to learn to navigate one another.

If he’d stopped a few minutes earlier, his plan would have worked.

If you had pushed instead of waiting, you could have fine tuned it.

You were always better together when honest. 

Squirming a little under the guise of adjustment, you went back through his scheme. He had been right that being chilled meant you only wanted his hands on you. The desire to heat your frozen body had added a new layer to his touch. It had only passed the point of being sexual and instead became some delirious need. Something desperate, in your current, comfortable state it was easier to see the desire.

It was the way he’d worded it.

It was the steam emitting from his dragon’s breath.

It was an injection of heat inside you.

The confused reaction skin had to touching something as cold as liquid nitrogen.

The point where temperature reversed and ice scalded.

Chewing your lip, you made a calculated twitch of your hips.

Where you held him, you felt Donnie give a minor tense as if afraid he’d woken you.

He had, but not in the way he imagined.

Something akin to a questioning prodding, you rocked a few centimeters back and forth.

“Y/N…” He wondered, emerging from his ostrich’s hole. “You don’t have to-”

“I’m still cold.”

His body seized with a sort of fear before he kicked into action. “Where? Is it your feet? Let me get-”

You caught his shoulders and locked your legs. “Here. I’m cold here.” With the new leverage you ground your core into the flat of his plastron.

He gave a little churr of interest. “Are you sure?”

“Very.”

“Weren’t you tired...?” He murmured and nuzzled into the side of your head.

“I liked your plan.”

“Nonsense.” He puffed with displeasure.

“I did.” This time you bucked your hips.

He eyed you with a wary edge.

“It makes sense, especially after yesterday.”

His head lowered, but his eyes were trained on you.

“Wanting me.” You tilted your head so your mouthpiece aligned with his. “Worried about your place in my world. What better way to soothe that then by having me need you in a way that only you can provide?”

“I only pushed you to the brink of hypothermia to satisfy something we already labeled as unfounded.”

“Then why today? Why the cameras? It was never unfounded. We were using logic to help soothe you.”

“I do enjoy data collection…” He gave off an irritated aura at his own proclivities.

“Then collect more. Listen. What am I saying?”

He relented against what you assumed were bitter voices in his head.

There were no angels and devils there.

There was will to survive and protection.

The latter of which was the loudest.

It went about it in the only way it knew how.

It was learning otherwise, but some days it fell back on old habits.

They did die hard.

“That you’ve said, today and before, how much you desire me and currently I’m neglecting a very obvious request.”

You nodded, still waiting for him to meet your lips. “I’m 100% sure, no rounding up or anything.”

“No one is that sure of anything.”

“Guess I’m still your anomaly then.”

He chuffed and it felt like his final restraint laxed. His drawbridge then lowered and docked against your mouth. Kissing him to drive your point home, he melded to you in a new way. Dragging his body up while simultaneously bringing his head down to maintain the connection, you were soon wrapped just above the swell of his hips. An angle he controlled, he rolled the bottom half of his plastron to your sex and your leaked breath interrupted the kiss.

Renewing his stroke with a rutting angle, he parted your lips and pressed firm to your center. It garnered gasps until steam turned the blanket into a sauna. He refused more than a gentle friction, so you protested by raising your pleading voice. It only saturated the damp air further until it clung, ready to form droplets on your skin.

He wanted you needy.

Despite his protests, his goal was steadfast.

That absurd contrast in him went against all reason and yet he refused to abandon what his heart truly wanted.

That was why you were together.

The throb that thought sent through you caused you to shove upward with all your might.

It startled a squeak out of him and his shoulders bobbed to force the blanket free.

Watching it cascade down your partner like some gorgeous purple waterfall, he appeared a stunning statue in the light and warmth of the apartment. Where you thought a moment of chill would pass, the space was long baked and little tufts of heat said the vents were pointed in your direction. All things controlled by his mind on a near unconscious level, you pulled him back down to you to translate your awareness.

If he had a thought to pull the fabric back up, you kissed the idea out of him.

Temperature regulated, you only needed one thing and it was bound to push the needle in the opposite direction.

Residual tension melted off of him and he was soon trekking down your hips. First ghosting over your legs with some calculation, you moved ready beneath him as he stroked your skin. Thumb found muscle and he massaged into it until you were further pliant. It meant he had something big planned and you chirped against his mouth with hopes that it said you were getting impatient.

“Need to work you up…” He breathed fire that shot straight through your form.

“I’m pretty sure you’re good on that front.” Your lids lowered to break his resolve.

You earned a rueful peck. “I can tell.”

You squirmed, long knowing you were leaking down your own leg, but wondering how he felt it through his plastron.

Catching your eye and then sending his down for you to follow, you watched him rise up where you’d made a slick mess of the stiff surface and it splattered down to presumably drip off him.

You let your head fall back and stared up snide at the ceiling. “How the hell do you do this to me and still think we’re anywhere near passed puppy love!?”

He smiled brightly overhead and you wanted to kick him for how genuine it was.

Puffing your cheeks out, he kissed each air sac happily before getting his knees under him. It removed him completely where he’d been using gravity to grind and now you felt the cold nip at your boiling sex. Arching because of it, he attempted to soothe you by rolling his palms into the thick of your thigh.

“Wrong place…” You grumbled.

“Preparation, my darling.”

“You plan on sharing this time?” You fought against your lids falling at the massage.

“I’ll need your honest reaction.” He spoke with a tinge of worry. “I can share your need to stretch.”

“A new position?” You propped yourself up on your elbows.

“No guessing.” He grinned and turned his gaze down to where he was working your legs.

“It’s a new position.” You giggled.

He chuffed and switched his grip so it was cuffing the top of your leg. Manipulating your spread, you were split further and your hips went to complain.

“Uh…!”

“You see why?” He remarked without actually wanting an answer.

You nodded, nervous, and he rotated his grip again until his thumbs were pressed to the waning muscles that joined your legs to your pelvis. Moving with precision, he rubbed the groups gathered there until one by one they eased.

“Can you roll onto your side?” He relinquished your left hip signaling that was the one he wanted you to turn.

“Sure.” You complied and he quickly caught your leg as if it were an oar. Rotating it with its lock, he pumped your appendage until it loosened. You tried to parse out which direction he wanted your leg to go, but he seemed to be testing it at all cardinal points if only to throw you off. Glances shared said this was the case and you stewed up until he had to roll over the other way.

Going through the same motions with this leg, it only pointed to flexibility. It made sense in the context you knew, but you couldn’t figure out why it needed to be a surprise. Any position where the two of you connected was a pleasurable one and that desire to adhere had probably inadvertently worked you through the Kama Sutra.

It spoke of heady days in bed and reminded you of a boiling marathon done in this same season last year.

“Do turtles hibernate?” You asked as he leaned his weight against your leg.

He folded his arms in that position and the comfortable crease said he was doing a fantastic job at whatever his mission was. “Brumation.”

It seemed like another silly word to delineate things with turtles that were nearly identical to other animals. “Sure.”

“No. I’m warm blooded.” He resumed stretching you out.

“Ah.”

“Why?” Cupping your ass, he coaxed you to return to your back.

You rolled and adjusted so you were back in the little divot he’d created in the sheets for you earlier. “I can’t say we do it more in the winter, but I feel like we go longer.”

He hummed, the thought new to him as he again spread your hips wide.

They stretched much further than before and you had to gawk at your own flexibility.

“How’s it feel?”

“Fine…” You folded your knees back together before opening back up like a book. “This is wild. Put me on the split machine; I’ll break a record!”

He gave a faint chuckle. “Enticing thought…” His voice said he drifted with it, but it was all cover as his hand ghosted between your legs.

You gave a little mewl as the transfer of warmth picked up right where you’d left it. “Don…”

“Yes?” Using only a single digit he lightly traced your slit.

“Please say I’m ready.”

“You’re ready.”

A tightening of muscles chained a reaction throughout your body as you hadn’t been prepared for him to so easily agree. “Hurry then.”

His pupils shifted attention and he settled your legs on his thighs. Letting them hang comfortably beside his hips, he dipped forward for a kiss. With a taste of anticipation on your tongue, he leaned away enough to look you over lovingly.

“Usual safeties.”

You gave a single readied nod.

“Biggest chance is your hip popping out of socket. It’s not lethal, but it is excruciating.”

You blinked wide. “Um…”

“The stretching.” He reminded you.

“I’m less confident now…”

“You’ll do fine. Weren’t you ready to receive me?”

You pursed your lips.

“Just focus on me.” He nosed your cheek before tracing up and down your legs again.

Muscles now seared with his relaxing touch, you felt them loosen in his grasp. Clearly what he wanted, he was slow to hoist them up. Now clicking he probably wanted them over his shoulders, you scooted down to accommodate a lift. He accepted it genially, but coaxed you to fold at the knee. The pair bent on either side of him, he led them toward your torso. Changing up to think he was going to turn the Amazon back on you, you lifted your hands at the ready to help hold your legs to your chest.

Again you were bypassed and he continued to palm your skin to keep your muscles supple. “It’s charming how insistent you are.”

“I’m starting to think all this is a ruse and you’ll drop one leg and shove the other above my head or something.”

“So many guesses.” Your knees edged into his vision and he dipped down to pepper them with kisses. “None close.”

“Have you even dropped?” You tried to look down, but your own limbs were blocking the view. 

“Nope.” He switched to kiss your other leg. “Intentional.”

You laid your head back to think. 

He began to exert pressure again and soon your stem pair began to separate. 

Your lower half rising up in a counter balance, your back protested the bend. “W-wait…!”

“Pain?” He continued to push your legs toward you inch by inch.

“No, t-this is…!”

A move you never thought you’d be able to accomplish, your knees hit the mattress just below your shoulders and you squeaked as it squished nearly every part of you together. “Are you alright?”

You nodded furiously, words failing you.

“Good, now…” From where he was arching into you, he got his feet out from under him by throwing his knees out far to either side. It exposed his tail which flicked rhythmically between you and he scooted forward until the weight of his thighs kept your legs in position. Placing his sex directly atop yours, he gave a single stroke that instantly swirled your combined slicks. “Arms up, you’ll want to hold on.”

“Your neck?” You reached weakly, every little move bumping the two of you together in a distracting grind.

He did a quick survey. “Shoulders.” He helped you tuck your elbows to your chest so you could reach around to cup each bulb while your forearms rested against his carapace. He then towered above, his entire body curling over you until he folded his arms above your head with a wrap on either side.

Knowing that was going to be done to fight against some supreme momentum, you gave a shaky breath.

“I’ve got you.” From where he was positioned the best he could do was kiss the top of your head.

You nodded against him.

“Scared?” He looked down at you the best he could. “Smells like it.”

“It’s a roller coaster drop sort of fear. More adrenaline.”

“How do you feel?” He pressed an obvious smile to your hair.

“Like a pretzel.”

He chuckled. “Do you know what this is called?”

You hid into him.

From where you were perfectly aligned he began to rub his pelvis to yours with intent. “Will you say it?”

“Y-you…!” Your voice heightened as he parted your lips in clear adjustment to drop inside.

“You want me to?”

“I-” You broke to moan as he casually rolled upward to tease your clit. “I a-always beg… or…ask… or… s-start it… ‘is your t-turn…”

A bubble of malevolence oozed right above your head and you knew he was putting on his most wicked expression. “Is that permission?”

“Y-yes!” You tried to buck, but he increased the weight of his hips.

You were forced to move at his pace. “I’ll voice my intent then.”

Head lifting from the heated tangle of limbs you butt into his plastron.

He forced you back into the bed as he crushed your pelvises together. “My birth control…”

You whimpered.

“Still in effect. Still operating at 100% efficiency.”

Drop, you wanted him to drop.

“I, however, intend to beat it.”

Though you couldn’t get upward momentum, he could stop any downward. Your entire body pulsed as your cunt clenched on nothing.

“Here we have what is considered the pinnacle in breeding positions.”

You nodded as swipe after swipe drummed enough slick that it rained rivers down your ass crack.

“The wide pelvic stimulation leads to explosive orgasms. The alignment allows for deep penetration…”

“E-enough…!”

“There’s other benefits too!” He chirped manic.

“Donnie!”

He was clearly losing his fight against withholding because the flat tip of his cock poked out to interrupt his smooth glides. .

“Increased intimacy, skinship, improved pelvic floor!!”

“Please! Please!”

“Increased blood flow to aid in seeding!!!”

“Fuck!”

“If you insist.” His cock dropped into you and your entire body fought his. Forcing you to stay in place, he made you adjust to the filling burn in utter stillness.

“This…” He lifted his hips and it allowed yours to bounce free.

His cock leaving you, you heard a mental anticipatory clicking of an old coaster.

Something that held only menace, his gaze devoured you and you glimpsed his face.

He drooled vile intent before quirking an even worse smile through it.

If ever a look could cause ovulation.

“… is the mating press.” Donnie plowed straight through gravity and slammed his hips to yours with a force that must have been near his full strength. Outright screaming, you felt yourself go immediately numb as he followed through setting a brutal pace. The bed matched your pitch and you saw the fluttering of the canopy as the rocking threatening to pop the bolts. Sobbing openly and choking on your tears, he shoved down on your head where his hips were attempting to fuck you straight out of his grasp.

It forced you into a turn where his plastron dug painfully into your cheek. It clattered through to your jaw and into your teeth where he continued to ruthlessly drill you. True to his word, he was plunging past depths you thought you’d known. Tapping further to some unknown deposit, it was through sheer will alone that he’d hit his bounty.

Your eyes rolled back to some unseen part of your brain and swam in a sea of unfeeling taupe. Voice still ringing out with each thrust, exertion blew out your eardrums with a sharp and hollow ring. Something foreboding, Donnie heaved above you, delirious, with clips of him that drifted in and out of your vision. Surely leaking saliva onto you, you couldn’t feel it in the mix where his cock was blasting through your sinuses.

The force of him fucking you forced any and all superfluous fluids out of whatever cavity allowed. From beady sweat glands to whatever was cascading down your chin, there was little room in your body for much else. Excavated and near collapse, you weren’t even sure you were holding on. You were being evaporated by a heat so extreme that your body sizzled and wafted on contact. As if to spite both of you, your battered innards wound with orgasm where they had been plowed loose.

“No.” Donnie’s voice came clear right into your ear.

You could only shriek as he hadn’t stopped thrusting.

“Bear with it.”

Like you had a choice.

“You don’t cum until I say.”

Straining with some unknown energy, you clenched and all that came together was your teeth.

The room shook and you found your partner looking down at you in a drunken stupor.

A power trip that you wanted to say was unlike him, it sent a shudder of fear through you that only enhanced your impending orgasm.

“No!” He growled, all wet teeth. “Hold it in!!”

How could you?

How could you do anything?

You were a sack at this point.

Pushed thin and filled way beyond the stretch point.

Translating that was an impossibility so you tore through the only other single syllable you could manage. “No! No! No!”

“You’ll regret it!!!” He towered with a swirling gaze.

He meant it too.

Evil.

He was going to pollute you.

The injection was one to the heart.

A black ichor that wouldn’t allow your blood to flow a human red again.

Imagery was the little you could muster until it whited out.

Body as useless, you came because of him.

His fault.

He was the one plowing you. 

“What did I say?!”

Heavy.

He was so heavy.

He crushed you. 

Punishment. 

You couldn’t breathe.

You couldn’t think.

There was nothing, but him.

There was also pain.

Screeching from overtaxed muscles.

Oversensitivity.

Overcum.

Overcast.

Overloaded.

His arms slammed into the sides of your head and you were being suffocated against his plastron.

With nothing left, you welcomed the release when you keenly felt his.

A boiling point like a hose turned to full steam, it percolated with a few spouting bubbles until the brunt came. Fluids more malleable than his relentless cock, they rushed your cavity and the force of which was something you felt to an absurd degree.

Hot.

You were boiling alive.

Steamed and trapped, you couldn’t struggle.

You were injected way past the point of what your wrapping could take. There was any number of holes for the leak to spring and yet he only forced it deeper. Rutting down, something metal snapped, but if it collapsed, the sound didn’t reach you. You choked openly, bile burning your throat and suddenly you were free. Hoisted up a limp and delirious waste, you were curled forward. The rush of changing positions threatened to make you vomit, but you kept it down by wilting into the figure stroking your back.

If only his cock wasn’t still pumping deep inside you, then maybe you’d have the space to recover.

Little pathetic mewls sounded as each consecutive load was driven further within you.

You were shushed. “Almost… done…”

“Too… much…” You weeped.

“No…” He was so careful now; too loving. “Took me so well. Gonna look so good plump with my clutch. So good…” He bounced you for the last little spurt before, blessedly, he loosened his grip. A hand you hadn't known released from where it had been clasped a painful degree into your lower back. You were broken so he could get that much deeper into you. “So, so good…” He churred into your cheek.

You weren’t going to make it.

It was your final thought before you passed out.

-

Donnie waited on you hand and foot the entire next week. From the major bruising that made it near impossible to walk to his abject loss of control, you took advantage of him and then some. Not feeling the least bit bad about it, the only part you’d taken no pleasure in was discussing the matter of how such a thing cropped up.

His own memory of the event slightly stunted, you’d both been a level of surprised to watch the playback. A lewd and violent pornography, Donnie had been forced to pause it more than once and pace. For you, the slivers you saw fell into place, but it was the ecstasy on your face that seemed doctored. Where you remembered feeling as though you might perish, the you on the screen moaned like a cat in heat. Something feral and yowling, it seemed wholly unlike you.

Getting through the footage and how one of the cameras had an insane shot of your slits melding together and leaking white upon climax, Donnie looked ready to maim himself. Talking him down a proverbial roof, it was eventually decided that his instincts were mistakenly reared. Too much vulnerability and a quick option to put himself back into a dominant position meant he’d lapsed into instinct. A sort of horrifically marred survival tactic, it was another thing to add to the list for him to work on. 

Only, he wasn’t satisfied with so little punishment and had switched to devoting himself.

“Do you think you really beat your birth control?”

“No.” The first thought was sure. “No…”  The second wasn’t. “We’ll monitor.”

A promise and an additional week of near nonstop rest were all done in repair mode. The bed frame had snapped, but it was replaced within the day. The pictures for your locket were all, but forgotten and your main prerogative had instead been some extended aftercare.

As soon as you were able to endure standing more than a few minutes at a time, you had dragged him out. Feeling better in the fresh air, you were currently tucked against him in line. Toasty and half held within his coat, you were musing on a menu you would soon order from. Out sometime during a lunch rush had meant a wait, but you needed a break from the stale heated air of indoors. “Think they’ll have any of those peppermint cookies left?”

“Hard to say…” He spoke soft and doted with his beak to your hair.

“Think being soft like this will… trigger anything?” You weren’t afraid if it did. You hadn’t actually minded how rough he was in the long run. You’d actually come to think of the press fondly, which you impressed upon him, minus maybe some slightest adjustments toward the end. It was, once again, all about your participation in the matter, but he had also not been able to pass anything along. All things you discussed, it boiled down to progress. Ever non-linear, there was an obvious scale to be balanced and you’d both felt a little too comfortable shoving it one way. Your partner not only deserved, but required a delicate touch.

Donnie stiffened and pulled you closer. “Absolutely not, this is different.”

“Is it?” You looked up at him in earnest.

He nodded and caught your chin so he could relay his own. “This is taking care of my mate… We surmised the ignition point was perceived threat to my mental standing.”

With the barest shift, he released you, but you buried further into him.

“Oh, ho! That must be the lovebirds next door!”

Blinking into cotton, you extracted yourself at the elderly voice.

Above you Donnie suddenly looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.

Peeking around his form, you found your neighbor of whom Donnie despised for her long pumpkin related tangents. “Hey, Mrs. Kaczmarek.”

“Hello, love.” She smiled brightly. “You two out for a nibble too?”

“Yup.” You rounded your partner to act as a barrier.

“This is a tasty spot. Close to home.” She continued and the line moved.

Donnie took his step and you followed along only to find her struggling with the bag she brought. “Need help?”

“Yes, please.” She held out her hand where bony fingers clutched straps.

You moved to tuck your hand under with the intention to take the weight, but her other claw emerged and snatched up your left hand. “Let’s see…” She adjusted her glasses.

Donnie went all smug behind you.

“Not married.” She frowned deeply and turned a monumental sense of disappointment up at you.

You stared now believing every single thing Donnie ever said about this wicked woman.

“Waiting for the right time.” Donnie barely got out without laughing.

“You know I’ve taken the time to adjust to this… sort of coupling. You sort of neighbors. I support mutants with pride now! You should mind me as well! Living in sin and all!”

Donnie nearly doubled over and had to turn full away toward the building.

You sat trapped where she was still holding you in what you now realized were perfectly manicured nails. “Uh huh!”

She scoffed loudly.

You hadn’t meant to admit that; you were merely dissociating.

How had this not been revealed to you sooner?

You moved in months ago.

She also was older and presumably went to bed early where you worked most days.

Donnie suffered the brunt as he often worked from home.

You’d apologize later.

The line took another step.

“Ma’am!” You squeaked, unable to move with it as she continued to hold you tight.

“I’m waiting.” She narrowed her gaze.

“For what?!”

She made a sly noise and let go.

You scrambled two steps back and bumped flat against your partner.

“Let’s have lunch. I can tell you all about my son’s wedding! Things to avoid!”

“To-go!” You quacked.

She arched a brow and there was a slight shake to her frame.

“We have plans, don’t we, Don!?”

“Sure, very busy.” He snickered.

Worst liar ever.

“How about tomorrow then? We’ll do dinner!”

“I’m sorry, we-we-?” You rotated up to your partner for support.

He was staunchly looking forward.

“What’s that? Speak up!” She hobbled closer.

“Our turn. My apologies, miss.” Donnie swooped you under the wing of his coat and came down with a villain’s suave sent straight at the woman. “This has been far from a pleasure, but our schedules are simply booked out for the next eternity. Ta!” He then wrangled you inside and straight to the counter where a chipper employee took your order.

In a stupor, you vaguely heard Donnie ask for and secure your cookie.

Hiding behind a pillar as the old woman berated an employee, you felt safe enough to revel in the moment and crept over to laugh into your boyfriend's plastron. “She’s going to hate us! Omigosh! We’ll have to keep an eye out every time we leave.”

Donnie shone brightly above you. “You speak as if I don’t already track her every move.”

Reality striking, you turned up at him with irritation. “You let this happen!?”

He shoved a fist to his mouth and barely muffled a loud laugh.

He also turned his head.

You glimpsed the innards of his glasses.

Where you playing with leaf boats was playing as a faint image inside.

He then returned, quaking with more giggles as he looked down on you and did his best feeble impression. “‘I’m w-waiting!’”

You didn’t have it in you to join in or get annoyed. You only reached up and plucked the frames off his face.

“Y/N, wait!”

“Darling Protocol, continue footage for user Darling.” You turned the glasses around and mimed putting them on.

Donnie dipped low as if to stop you and you watched him through a faint image of yourself turning to smile at the camera.

“How… How long have you…?”

He shrank with worry and affection. “All the time. Especially of late…”

The you in the lens laughed and waved the kids goodbye, before approaching the frame with love in your eyes.

You took the glasses off and watched as the display fizzled out.

It was an image that could only be seen from within.

Donnie waited patiently beside you.

“Donatello!”

His head only moved slightly at the call for your order.

You said nothing and held up his glasses with a clutch that said you were going to place them. 

He dipped with anxiously closed eyes for you to do so. 

They landed a little off kilter, but he left them like that to grab your lunch. When he returned, you didn't allow him to linger and threw yourself into motion toward the door. A predator of an older age made some mocking comment, but you exited with Donnie’s boots clicking the pavement behind you. You walked three doors down before you looked both ways to cross the road.

Your partner trailed behind as best he could and you eventually shoved the ringing bell of a bookshop door.

Donnie followed close, catching the door and you heard an employee say something in a bored yawn.

“No food or drink.”

“We’re not eating, just need to pick something up.”

“Whatever.”

You maneuvered through the stacks.

“Y/N…?” Donnie whispered after to you.

This business had tried to maximize space as most did with New York real estate. It meant several bookshelf rows deviated from the norm and wound into a nook that you imagined once belonged to the last tenant’s kitchen. It now stood, walls lined with knowledge, as a sort of hidden place where one could get lost.

“Y/N…” Donnie murmured again, clear concern in his voice.

You took a leading step towards him, but swung your weight back. It rolled your form something untraceable before you lunged and pressed up against him.

You felt his being raise around an action he couldn’t script.

Snapping the top button of his slacks free, you shoved a hand down his pants.

A sharp squeak emitted from him and he clamped a hand over his mouth.

“Do you miss me?” You whispered into his sweater and stopped to drag your index finger across the bottom of his plastron.

“Y-you…! No… you’re… you’re right here.”

“That why you watch me on a loop?” You eyed him and stepped closer, crowding him into a shelf.

The bag flopped on his wrist as he went to grab the rack. “N-no, th-that’s…”

“Do you watch the whole day? Do you watch the end?” You pressed your palm flat against the lower ridge and curled your fingers, toying behind it.

He stifled a peep. “The beginning… only… the…”

“Why?” You applied pressure.

His eyes drifted shut. “I-I-”

“Go on…?” You swung your fingers loosely and barely brushed his inner thigh.

“Y/N, we haven’t since…” He gasped.

“I’ve been healing. I thought that was okay.”

“It is!” He caught your arm and forced himself to stare at you through what was almost a glare. “It is. I would wait a lifetime. I would never cum again. I would take a vow of celibacy sooner than touch you if you weren’t ready.”

“Why the footage?”

“It’s not sexual.”

“Then what is it!?”

“You haven’t been able to look at me like that since!” He startled at the sound and his face crumbled. “You haven’t…”

You stilled where you hadn’t realized you were pushing against his grip.

“I… I don’t deserve it. I tainted… No…” He took a deep breath. “We’re working on it. I’m working on it. I haven’t ruined anything and yet I’ve also… I don’t feel as though I deserve it, but I crave that attention. Why I squandered it in the first place…?” He shook his head. “I take immense joy in relinquishing myself to you. Why'd my mind fear it? Too much of a good thing? Do I imagine there’s greener grass when I stand in the most lush pasture?”

You leaned into him and thought.

Letting his words play over and over in your head.

Around you his hold eventually loosened and your hand felt particularly warm where it was.

“Darling Protocol.”

Donnie perked at the sound of your voice.

“Play footage from ‘Mating Press.’”

“No.” He reached up to take his glasses off.

“For user Darling.”

He paused with them just off his beak and looked down at you openly.

You stared back.

He was gentle about setting them on the bridge of your nose and the two of you appeared talking as Donnie massaged you.

In time with his kneads, you tucked your hand in between his legs and made a pathetic attempt to copy his skill.

“Y/N…” Donnie breathed, unsure.

The pair in your vision stole little loving glances at one another when the other wasn’t looking.

Without audio, you continued to stroke Donnie in time until you felt the first dribble of his slick. Almost against his will, you’d worked him up and watched as another him folded you in half.

“You know what I see…?”

“Me? Us?” He stunted out between breathy lips.

“A couple who is pretty good at communication.”  

Cinematic, there was a sweep across your intertwined bodies until focus shifted to highlight the moment Donnie connected your pelvises.

“Teasing each other. Knowing what the other wants.”

“It didn’t-” His breath hitched as you directly brushed his slit.

“It didn’t work? Don, we’re having our first pregnancy scare.”

A churr broke like a sob in his throat and he cracked open leaking desire in his eyes.

Starting with two fingers, you probed him.

Your lens shifted a focal point over Donnie’s shoulder to highlight the anticipation on your face.

“So good…” You mouthed, vision unfocused to watch both actions in stereo.

“Y/N… wha-?”

You sank into him to the joint and pulled back waiting for the miniature him.

It took a few more swipes and a return to the camera trained on your sexes to show the peek of his cock.

You jammed your hand back into your partner the moment he dropped in you.

In a flash, Donnie’s arm flew up and his teeth sank deep into the flesh as he barely contained an outright moan.

“It’s a shame you can’t see yourself breed me.”

His eyes rolled back just like the one on the tape.

“So deep…” You were close to fisting him. “So thick… So amazing…”

“Not…” Drool mixed with blood leaking from his bite.

“Not true?” You asked, turning your body slightly so you could plunge your arm further into him.

You fucked past his response and covertly worked your own fly free with your other hand.

In your double vision, things were rapidly devolving.

“You’re wrong…” You bent your arm in a way that it pushed down on his zipper.

It appeared you were giving yourself more room.

“You’re good. So good. Wonderful. Incredible. Made for me.”

He shook his head and rattled a few books on the shelf.

You pressed into him, nearly knocking him off his feet to keep him still. “Shh, can you be quiet for me? Only drop when you’re told?”

“T-this-!” He hissed to keep his voice low.

“So good at making me feel good. So good at breeding me. My sweet, Donatello.”

His cock hit your fingers deep and the entirety of his body flexed to prevent it from falling further.

“My sweet, sweet, lovely, Donnie.” Aiming for as fluid a motion as you could, you snatched the glasses off your face. “Darling Protocol, keep rolling no matter what.”

The sound didn’t reach his ears, but a certain level of awareness came as you placed the glasses back on his beak. 

His lips parted with terror.

You did a rapid turn, extracting your wet hand from him and knocking his pants down. They sunk to the floor and you shoved at yours, getting them only just below your hips. You then caught the shelf across the way and bent to present your sex to him. “Drop, my love. Here. Your mate needs you.”

He heaved two loud exhales before the many stimuli ate up his worries. Joining the past version in only one way, he lined himself up. Deviating immediately from the film, he was careful to cradle your hips. Crouching over the whole of you like some weighty winter coat, he pressed into your soak and groaned a sweet churr in your ear. Feeling your heat, he chased it with shallow thrusts and you scrambled to hold on to the bookshelf as he rolled against you. Made of only tenderness, he shifted and adjusted until he found your pleasure. He then held himself at bay, refusing to exploit it and instead wrapped you up in love.

“Deeper…” You moaned, throwing an arm back to cradle his head.

Hunched nearly to his knees, he adjusted his aim.

A reversal of the footage, you shuddered in waves of ecstasy when the angle of his hips got him fully seated. Switching to scrub there, he only nudged on your g-spot and you felt a new wave of adoration sweep you.

“Donnie!”

“Y/N!”

Matching call for call, he continued to make love to you in a steady building until books began to fall. None hitting you and the flutter of pages beating like dove’s wings, you came soon after and he held you close, letting you have every ounce of it. Shuddering and tugging, your mouth sought his and, in an awkward bend, he captured it. Communicating the same message, it bumped the glasses off his snout where they hit the ground at the same time he came.

A flooding warmth filled you up like a piping hot mug and you lounged in the drink.

“I called the cops, you sick fucks!!!”

In an instant, you were wrapped up and flying through the store. Shouts chased after you and a cold wind soon bit your cheeks. Only giggling amongst it all, motion stopped in the open air and you had to blink through stages of realization to find you were on top of some building.

“Donnie!?” You called.

“Here…!” He was around you, but crumpled over to pant from exertion, sex, and the adrenaline of fleeing the scene of an obvious crime.

“We’re totally banned…” You bubbled with laughter.

He hummed in agreement and tugged you closer. “…love…y-”

“Huh?” You swallowed your giggles in an attempt to get the foamy sound out of your ears.

“Nothing…” He buried down in the side of your neck and let your scent soothe him.

You laid your head on top of his. “How was that? Better, my sweet?”

He held for a long time before he went a calculated slack. “Better…”

Your pants were caught around your ankles and you pulled them up as much as you could where you were sitting on them. “Did you happen to…? Yes!” 

In a quick survey, you found your lunch and dragged it over to you. 

Still coming down from your high, you slowed in parting the handles. “I’m sorry I made you take care of everything again after I went rogue… again… Hard to avoid the same pitfalls…” 

He nodded his head into a scrub.

 You settled against him for a moment of humbling silence before rooting into the bag. 

“Lost one item.”

“What’s that?” You grabbed his sandwich first and looked at him curiously while offering it over.

Instead of speaking, he gave a calculated scrunch of his beak and you realized it was his glasses.

“That’s… not good…! I told them to keep rolling… no matter… what… fuck!”

“Self destruct.” He murmured.

“Self…” As if on cue, you heard a siren in the distance. “In a bookstore?!”

His arm rose around you and the move peeled back his sleeve where his gauntlet projected a screen. “Only a 1 alarm, contained to erase evidence.”

“I’m…” You sat in dismay for a second before looking skyward.

Cloudless, but sunny, it ambivalently sat overhead.

“… I’m racking up quite the record… which I will deal with later.” Donnie finally took his sandwich while you went straight for your cookie. “I’m gonna lie and say I earned this.”

“I’m inclined to agree, bar none.” Donnie whispered the affirmation against your head and adjusted his hold so you could eat entangled together.

NEXT

Beta boss round up for my sweet @tmntxthings and @thepinkpanther83

[phightinghottakes]

Something on the topic of Subspace.

Look, I love him. I love shoving headcanons onto him and making him a degenerate weirdo, but I would never say he's 'innocent', or 'cute', or 'twinky'. Now, I'm not going to discuss his sexuality it my mind, that's not the point of this hot take. The point is his personality.

He is the lead scientist/engineer of a large, powerful, most likely evil faction. He has created, for this faction, murderous, aggresive robots. He actually shows some level of 'fondness', towards these menaces to society (crying to them, calling them his children, blah blah blah), even being fully aware of their destructive purposes. He is most likely planning to take over crossroads, and, lastly, he RIPPED OUT A MAN'S EYE. He is not a sillly little twink. He is a fully grown maniac. Now, am I saying you're in the wornd for putting him in twinkish clothing? No. Tbh, evil characters can wear... 'sexy' clothing, as long as you acknowledge that they are, at base, evil. I find it ironic, really, to put such blatantly horrendous concepts of people into such skimpy attire.

I would also like to say that there is nothing wring with imagining him to be gay, or that he has crushes, or is whiny (because he is whiny), or that he's a very sexually charged person. Yes, the phighters don't have genitals or sex, but making out is still a thing, and people write whatever they want to write atthis point. A pink lego-man getting railed by another lego-man is the least of our problems when people are writing actual rape and incest.

The only thing that annoys me, personally, is when people try to make him just 'a silly goober.' You can make him as horny or feminine or whatever as you want, as long as you acknowledge that he is a horrible person, who does not deserve to be thought of as innocent or sweet. If I'm being truthful, it's not even Subkit that I see him being mischaracterized in the most (it's Medkit), it's in Substaff where I see Subspace being characterized as if he's a little baby who just wants to be loved, and who will make an attempt to be a sweet, gentle partner. He WOULD NOT. I also see this done with Banhammer and Broker and, of course, Medkit. People love taking rude and stoic, or crazed and evil characters and making them sweet and soft and needy. I'll speak on that more another time though.

Subspace is evil. He is a whiny bitch, yes, but he is also a crazed man (with a decaying/rotting body, btw). He might be gay, he might be horny, Idk, but he isn't soft, he isn't sweet, and he is TOXIC in all senses.

I still love him though <3

-- 🌒

.

[captainclickycat]

You know I think I’ve just put my finger on one of the things about why it annoys me so much when people on the internet try to turn personal preferences with queer media in particular into like… a morality contest or social hierarchy or act like there’s a right and wrong option for which thing you like better.

Because when I was growing up, non-niche queer media was pretty rare, relatively speaking. It wasn’t nonexistent, and god knows we’ve still got some way to go to this day, but there’s a very strong contrast now I think between the amount of casually-presented and diverse queer representation that spans over a variety of genres and what we had to choose from back then. When I was a teenager, this kind of variety felt like a bit of a pipe dream.

So now we’ve actually got more variety and more genres and we’re at least making some progress towards being a little bit spoilt for choice (which is unequivocally a good thing) and now many of us actually have half a chance of reading a book or watching a show or film or playing a game or whatever that appeals to us based specifically on our personal tastes, and still has queer themes and characters. It’s not “either queer stuff or stuff that aligns with my tastes” anymore, or at least not as much as it used to be.

So, hooray! This is the desired outcome! (Or at least a step in the right direction.) But then instead of going “oh great, more choice now :)” some people are now trying to limit our options again instead, and act like they’re being progressive.

“Ooh you should watch this queer show instead of that one, because that one is cringe. Because that one is problematic [even though the show I prefer has its own share of ideological flaws but somehow I consider it redeemable in a way that the other one isn’t, and this definitely doesn’t come down to the fact that I just prefer it on a personal level, no sir.]” “Oo why are you invested in this particular show, there are other queer shows, watch those instead” as if they’re interchangeable. As if it’s as simple as buying store brand instead of the more expensive brand because hey, it tastes the same. As if “queer” is a genre and that should be all you need. If something ticks all these particular progressive boxes you should like it and if it doesn’t you should dislike it, what do you mean it’s more complicated than that?

And naturally media that’s “problematic” in some ways can never ever be progressive in other ways. It can’t handle some things well and some things poorly and there can never be an open and honest discussion about that which ultimately ends with some people still enjoying “problematic” things. It can’t be nuanced, because that would be too complicated! There’s no baby, we need to just throw away all that nasty bathwater.

Anyway I ran out of steam a little here but I do want to state in clear terms that if you say anything along the lines of “omg how can you vote for that show on the tumblr fandom poll, that’s the CRINGE option” I’m picturing you as a snotty nine-year-old and nothing you can say will convince me not to. So, you know. Make of that what you will.

[ashsostrange]

ian reading allat 🧘‍♀️ craziest most immature shit i’ve been involved in.

lemme clear the air one last time though, cuz this is getting annoying as hell.

lash and marie are the ones who provided us with all the other info regarding what maye’s done/said. the only thing i initially knew about was the way maye was talking to dalia bc i was there for it. maye’s friend, marie, was the one who said maye claimed to be part japanese... and told us that her grandma is thai or whatever. then she heavily implied that maye was lying. anyway, if your friend of like three yrs is telling me you’re a liar (n ur already in hot water) then why wouldn’t i believe it? marie told us about the malala stuff and the curry rice joke. she told us that maye is avoidant when it comes to discussing what she did wrong. lash told us about the 9/11 jokes, she even sent screenshots. that’s where talia got them from. i literally said it was weird that maye said she’s “racist on occasion” and they were shitting on her like everyone else was, bc the way she was acting was mad weird.

how are you gna tell us your friend is problematic then turn around and tell her we were talking about her and the things she’s done..? the things… you told us???! they coulda kept quiet but they didn’t for some reason, so receipts are due:

either your “friends” were playing in your mf face or y’all are on some next level fake shit 😭

mind you, if you scroll down on my page, you’ll see that one of these weird ass hoes sent me a link thru anon so they could grab my ip.. like oh, okay! so you’re racist and insane!!!! and i know it was them bc they’ve talked about doing stuff like this to people they’ve had issues with. ion got issues with nobody else on this app except rashad, nd he hasn’t even been bothering me sooo. like i said, i was gna keep this offline but the ip shit really got me.. that’s real fkn weird 😭

i’m sorry it’s so difficult for y’all to accept, but you created this mess on your own, the five of you. i’m not messy for nothing… like ever. and neither are my friends. i alr said i wasn’t gna make them choose between me and maye, cuz i’m not even that close w any of them for it to ever get to that point. i’ve made it perfectly clear that i don’t associate with people who act a certain way, and people that associate with such. not to mention, i blocked all these hoes, but i keep receiving screenshots of these mfs yappin in their ig notes ab me and the situation like we’re in middle school 😭 you say you hate drama but you are the drama baby. plsss grow up! this is mad childish.

never expected marie or anyone else to drop maye for me, i literally don’t care 🤷‍♀️ not my problem, like i said, would’ve j dropped her too. but again, i realllyyyyy don’t understand how you rat out your friend and act like you didn’t… be safe out here y’all LMFAO

i stand on everything i’ve said 🤷‍♀️ like i stated last night before maye even said anything, yes, i was talking shit! and i don’t care! i have no reason to be nice to these people. not one.

i’m not writing another long ass post about this, i’ve explained everything that needed to be explained. i don’t want my blog crowded w drama. if i need to add anything i’ll tell talia to do so on my behalf.

tumblr drama is so silly n i didn’t do nun wrong lol. y’all are your own worst enemies. moral of the story, don’t be racist! 💋