#took those stupid ass filters off

[buzzingroyalty]

my homestuck lps. do you love them

[dolliethv]

The boy is mine.

summary: English is not my first language, so if you notice any mistakes I'm sorry!! You and Jude have a moment of provocation after a party.

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x fem reader!!

Word count: about 2,9k

The yacht was silent, only the murmur of the water against the hull accompanying both of your heavy breathing. Moonlight filtered through the windows, illuminating your "Jacquemus La Robe Maille Roupao" dress, tight against your body. Jude, standing behind you in his half-open black shirt, black pants, and belt, couldn’t take his eyes off you as you took off your shoes and walked towards the edge of the bed, adjusting your long, wavy brown hair.

"Everyone was staring at you tonight," Jude murmured, his deep voice resonating through the room. "That dress didn’t help much to keep attention away, you know?"

You turned around, narrowing your eyes, placing your hands on your hips. The frown on your face gave you a defiant air.

"So what?" you retorted without missing a beat. "Don’t pretend you didn’t notice, Jude. I saw all those girls throwing glances at you. Some even tried to approach, but I let it slide... just this once."

Jude smirked, the mischievous glint in his eyes betraying his intentions.

"Jealous?" he asked, moving slowly closer, reducing the distance between you. "You know I only have eyes for you, little one."

You scoffed, straightening yourself in front of him, though you barely reached his chest. You couldn’t let that comment slide. He always used his height to tease you, and you were ready to play along.

"Little?" you said, raising an eyebrow, challenging him. "You know well that your stupidity won’t save you this time. I saw everything, you idiot."

He let out a laugh and suddenly leaned over you, getting right in your face, looking down at you. It was his classic provoking move. —Damn egotistical ass—

"Oh, really?" he replied, bending just enough so his eyes met yours. "And tell me, little one, how do you plan on dominating me when you barely reach my chest?"

You glared at him, but didn’t back down. You knew if you did, he’d win. With slow, deliberate steps, you moved even closer. You placed a hand on his belt, pulling on it with a firm, sudden gesture that forced him to lean down even more, so close that only a few inches separated your faces.

"You think you can dominate me just because you're bigger," you whispered, almost mocking him. "But you should already know that size doesn’t matter when you know what you’re doing."

Jude raised an eyebrow, seizing the opportunity to throw one of his typical jokes.

"Size doesn’t matter?" he repeated, bringing his face even closer to yours, a double-edged smile on his lips. "Because, you and I both know that in some... cases, that’s not exactly true."

You felt the heat rising through your body, but you weren’t willing to let him take control so easily. Your gaze sharpened, and with a push to his chest, you made him step back until he sat on the edge of the bed, now at your height. Jude looked at you with a mix of desire and admiration.

"Jude, I wonder if anyone’s ever told you that maybe you talk too much for what you can actually deliver," you said, holding your ground in the face of his provocation.

"Don’t act tough," he whispered, his mouth millimeters from yours, starting to caress your hips. "You know perfectly well that I’m right."

You tried to stay firm, but his closeness and the heat of his body were starting to get to you. However, you still weren’t ready to back down. You lifted a hand, placing a finger on his chest before resting your entire palm there, pushing him softly so he lay back on the bed.

"You’re so sure of yourself, aren’t you?" you asked, your voice low and threatening. You leaned a little to grab something from the nightstand—a handycam. You turned it on as you kneeled on the bed, positioning yourself on top of him. "But you’re wrong, Jude. What really matters is knowing how to use what you’ve got."

"A video camera?" Jude thought. "This will be fun..."

You leaned down further, pressing against Jude, your smile turning dark and dangerous.

"Believe me, baby. I know exactly how to use what I’ve got. I've never had complaints about the size down there... at least, no negative ones," he responded, supporting himself with his hands, starting to brush his cheek against your chest.

"Are you questioning my authority? Look at me when I’m talking to you," you said, and as if by magic, your words commanded the man beneath you, leaving him in shock at how easily you had just taken control.

He lifted his cheek off your chest, his eyes and slightly parted lips finally showing a hint of surprise.

"Would you like that video to go public so everyone knows that I'm yours?"

"I’d like that a lot, and you know what else I’d like?" you said as your free hand grabbed his chin to keep his eyes fixed on the camera.

“Fuck you really good, mm?”

You laughed and set the camera rolling aside.

You climbed off the mattress kneeling in front of him.

You pulled his pants and boxers down, leaving his member free, inches from his face, hard and thick, veins bulging beneath the thin skin.

At the sight, you pressed your cheek against the length, sighing at the heat radiating from it, hands gripping Jude’s thighs to keep him close. You rubbed the side of your face slowly, not intending to please, but to ask for permission, to show how much you liked his cock, wanted it.

The tip of his cock met your mouth, wrapping your lips around it. You sucked in a way that might have made you look inexperienced, but you supposed that was what Jude wanted as it added to his supposed innocence.

Jude pushed deeper into your mouth, making you part his lips even further, stretching them, giving you that slight burn that reminded you of the size of the cock you were about to take. You could taste the precum, the salty liquid, and it made you reach for more, licking it up at a fast pace. Your movements were sloppy and hungry, aiming to take all of the shaft.

From above, Jude took the camera in his hands, breathing less deeply with each flick of his tongue and his grip tightening on the camera.

You could only see bits of his face, but after the amount of blowjobs you had given him, you could easily imagine what he looked like right now.

A combination of the image in your head, Jude’s strong taste, and the hand that was suddenly in your hair, had you moaning around him, in a wet, echoing noise.

At this point, you were the one leading, but you knew it wouldn't be for long.

"Eyes up, princess."

You locked eyes with the camera lens, a defiant, feline look.

"This is quite a show. Why don't we just stay like this for a while, hm?" He began to fuck your mouth.

You gagged, over and over, and it was so intense that you worried you might actually drown. Tears spilled from the corners of your eyes and ran down your cheeks, making it impossible for you to see clearly through his wet lashes.

"That's it. Fuck, baby. You're so good. You take it so well for me."

For me.

Even in your current state of mind, you noticed.

Whether it was intentional or not, that possessiveness made something weaken inside you. You relaxed even more, leaving your body completely to the other boy's use.

They'll never see how his eyelids fluttered from how hard he was trying not to close them, just because he wanted to keep looking at you.

They'll never see how his voice always got stuck in his throat and he'd let out a guttural uh before cumming.

They'll never see how he got unnecessarily aggressive when he was close to his orgasm, not only aiming to release faster, but to please you and make you feel good, in the best way possible.

Jude bellingham is mine.

He lifted you off the floor and pinned you down onto the mattress.

"You want me to fuck you, right?" He asked.

You nodded shyly, your eyes refusing to look at the camera, covering your face. Your cheeks were turning a crimson color from the situation earlier.

“Then beg. Spread your legs and beg.” He said pressing his knee against your pussy.

“Please…” You whispered, “Please, I need it. I need you.”

Jude was quick to continue, stripping you completely in a second, and using one of his fingers to caress your wet folds.

“Here, baby?” He asked, “In this pretty pussy?”

He slowly stroked you in circles and dipping just a little bit of a finger in to tease you.

“Face down, now,” He said as he rested the camera somewhere on the bed making sure the angle was just right.

Knowing that you would soon have Jude on top of your body, his kisses, caresses, and slightly more intimate words whispered only for you to hear, you rushed to comply with the order. Within seconds, you were propped up on your elbows on the bed, ass in the air and head on the sheets.

“Why don’t you tell the camera how you like to be fucked?” the dark-skinned boy said.

It wasn’t exactly the plan, you could feel Jude’s dick pressed against you, wet, hot.

“Hard,” you said.

“Hard,” he said in confirmation, his hands moving from your waist to your pert ass, kneading the flesh. “That doll face of yours doesn’t match how daring you are, baby.”

When he entered you, he did so with much less caution, thrusting in all at once and making your eyes roll back. So delicious.

“Should we show them?”

It hurt so much, but it was such a good pain.

Your whole body moved as Jude pushed your hips, rocking.

Jude pinned your face into the mattress with his hand, and fucked you.

“There you go. Just like you wanted it.”

Brutal, relentless, and spot on.

You could barely breathe with the noises coming out of your mouth without his permission. Your pussy was being abused with each new thrust, making him drool and moan.

Jude towered over you, his firm chest covered in sweat pressing against your back as he pushed your head harder into the sheets.

Forget it, the camera was lying somewhere on the bed, not being able to capture this moment but the desperate moans and whimpers coming out of your mouth.

"Please, ruin me..."

That was what brought the boy over the edge, his hips stopping and his grip loosening for a moment before he forced himself to continue.

You knew your orgasm hadn't passed yet as your pussy was still throbbing.

Jude was cumming with loud grunts as he continued to fuck you.

With the help of Jude's hand expertly rubbing over your clit, you were able to squirt so hard that no sound could leave your mouth for a while. Your muscles tensed and your breathing stopped for a few moments, expelling that clear liquid and splashing onto the mattress.

You stayed still for a moment from the overstimulation, Jude laid down next to you and kissed your shoulder trying not to laugh.

"I fucking hate you" you said because this was definitely not part of the plan.

"I love you too, even when you try to dominate me with your five foot five."

You both laughed together, the tension completely dissipated. You had gone from the jokes, the taunts, and the challenges to a space of calm and pure connection.

As you rested again with your head on his chest, Jude wrapped his arms around your body, closing his eyes.

“Sleep, baby,” he whispered, giving you one last kiss on the head, “tomorrow we will continue arguing about who dominates who.”

“There is nothing to argue about,” you murmured, your eyes now closed. “You know who is in charge here.”

And with one last shared laugh, you both drifted off to sleep, wrapped in the comfort of knowing that, in the end, you would always be there for each other.

[essentiallyleaf]

day 05. thigh riding. with. sullyoon.

1689 words.

tags. 

kinktober ‘23, idol x male reader, subby girlfriend sullyoon, photographer reader who gets dommy at some point, the reader is kind of a dunce in this one, i’m sorry reader, the writer is kind of stupid, and a bully, a decent amount of floof methinks, thigh riding, a note of ass play, and a note of feeding/oral fixation maybe?, squirting, freestyle punctuation, basically unedited.

notes.

i don’t know, it’s all up in the air, really. ignorantly, leaf.

“That’s not fair, you promised we were gonna play today!” Yoona whines while stomping her feet on the parquet.

“I said we were going to play today, after I’m done with work” You correct her, matter-of-factly.

You know how much she cares. This is the first time you’re not traveling when she has a weekend off in months. She just wanted to spend it together. Maybe bake with you, and end up throwing flour and chocolate powder on each other, maybe make blue and sand colored beads, have them break and crawl on the floor attempting to fetch them for the next twenty-five minutes, and definitely have extra-long sessions of lazy sex, through meals, through bathtime, through her playing Zelda, then passing you the Switch, then through you playing Zelda. That’s what she was looking forward to doing today. To you, the fact that you can’t spend a lovely and horny weekend with your girlfriend because a client decided, the day before the deadline, that they needed the photos to “look younger, fresher!” and that the best way of accomplishing that was adding a comic book filter on them and changing all the fonts to resemble those “BOOM!”’s and “POW!”’s that your grandfather used to read while HE WAS FIGHTING THE GREAT WAR, mr. Russo! Because “that’s what kids are into these days! Superheroes!”??? And your grandfather is DEAD.

To you - as I was saying - that felt unfair. But to Yoona, whose pouting face looks sooo cute, the expectation of a weekend of fun with her boyfriend was a fair one. And as you recognize that, you realize that with your dismissive answer you were being kind of an ass.

“Hey, I’m sorry, okay?” You pat her shoulders and back, then stroke it softly as she looks down at her feet. They’re naked, just like the rest of her legs, she dropped her pants as soon as she got in your apartment, as per her habit. It started with her wearing oversized shirts (usually yours) with no shorts underneath for comfort reasons, then the tees quickly got shorter and shorter and now she’s just wearing a white cropped top and a pair of light pink panties with a tiny tiny bow in the center, leaving her entire stomach and a good half of her buttcheeks for all, or rather just for you to see. “You wanna take some selfies on the Polaroid while I finish?”

You have plenty of cameras, but that’s the one you bought for her. It’s so hip, and trendy, she said. You told her she could bring it wherever, and take pictures of the places she visits (last year she went to Japan with two of her girl friends, it was beautiful, she said, but she didn’t take many pictures; you didn’t go because you were on one of your work trips in Malaysia, and you took way too many) but Yoona wanted to leave it in your house, for “I only care about photos where I’m with you”.

“I already have…”

You are certain she made sure you were somewhere in the background of the shot, as she always does when she takes selfies.

She puffs her cheeks while pouting. She’s too adorable not to look at and too bored to sit idle on the couch for another God-knows-how-many hours. Two problems to solve.

“You wanna come sit on my lap while I work?” Sounds like a win-win.

She nods cutely. You sit at the living room table (the lighting is best here) and she follows you. Instead of sitting with her back towards you, or perpendicularly to you, though, she straddles one of your shorts-covered thighs, facing you, the exposed part of her buttcheeks in direct contact with the skin of your knee. You look at her puzzled, and maybe a little suspicious. She just smiles. That’s good enough for you. She just wants to look at you in the face, you think. Add another adorbs point to the count (4? Just about her average per 5 minutes).

As you start working, laptop in front of you, water and a tangerine on the side, she tucks her chin in your shoulder and wraps her arms around you. Then you feel a subtle movement on your thigh. It starts as a small pressure, her body seemingly getting heavier and heavier on you, and then slowly gaining speed on the sagittal axis, getting broader with each swing.

“Baby…”

She doesn’t respond, only moves her hands from your lower back up to your shoulders and widens the radius of her pendulum. You think you know where this is going.

“Yoonagi~”

She stops immediately, seemingly getting out of her trance. That’s the pet name you gave her; must have been a reward for record adorbs points in a day.

“I won’t bother you,” (while I keep doing what I'm doing, is the part of the sentence that’s only silent), she pulls her head back to look you in the eyes, the cutie pout is still there (5). “Please?”

“Try not to move too much” - says the guy who’s letting his girlfriend hump his leg while he’s editing photos on his laptop and definitely doesn’t need his hand to be firm or steady; Alexa play Scooby-Doo villain type plan - she pulls the one leg of your shorts up to your groin, then lifts herself up just enough, and, with the most innocent smile on her face, she drops her pink panties to the floor.

She returns exactly to the position she had moments ago and resumes her routine right from the point where she left it. The only difference is, you can feel your girlfriend rub her skin on yours, with its warmth and its texture, and now your thigh feels humid.

“Feel good?” You take your hands away from the laptop and mouse for a second and sit back to peel your tangerine. She nods, but not cutely this time (6), she’s completely absorbed in her pleasure and is trying her best to keep her eyes open and look at you as she does. That part is cute (6!). “I’m glad, honeybun”

You feed her a slice of tangerine, which she captures with her lips and stores into her cheek, then suckles on for a few seconds before chewing it. Adorbs (7). You go back to work.

As her lust builds up, and once her mouth is empty, she can’t help but let you know through a loud moan. And then about two or three more, you can’t count them exactly because they kinda connect and fuse together, but she sounds so heavenly and you’re - you’re supposed to be working. But at this point, who knows what you want more. To get your work done, and have the rest of the day for yourselves, or to help your little girl. To get her where she wants, and to make it feel as good as it can be. To make it feel earned.

“Hey! I need to concentrate though, so I’m gonna need you to be silent, honey, can you do that for me? I’ll touch you in the other hole while we play later, but now,” you place a finger on her lips. “Daddy needs Yoonagi to behave, is that alright?” (That’s the pet name she gave you; must have been because every adorbs baby needs a baby daddy.)

One time the two of you were having sex, you were half-sitting, she was on top. At some point you grabbed her plentiful, soft asscheeks to help her bounce on you. As you gripped them strongly, one of your fingers slipped on her puckered hole and without even thinking, you started teasing around it while her butt ricocheted on your lap. She came so hard that day. So hard that she started spasming and tearing up as you held her on your shoulder (“Did I hurt you?” You hadn’t. “Can you stand up?” She could, after a few minutes. “You wanna do it again?” She did).

It was then that you started sprinkling it here and there as a promise, as a reward. Not to control her, just to help her learn how to behave. And she’s had nothing but gains out of it.

Yoona keeps rocking back and forth on your thigh, only silent pants coming out of her mouth. She even locks her lips to avoid any spills, while her eyes are now permanently closed, focused on the target of reaching her now close at hand peak. You palm your girlfriend’s gorgeous tummy while adoring her lustful state. She puts a hand on top of yours and starts feeling you feeling her. Your thigh is shining with her wetness.

“I know it’s hard, but you gotta hang in there for just a couple minutes, understand? My baby girl is doing so great for me”

Still trying her best not to make noise, even when it’s obvious that it’s not to help you with the work that’s currently not even remotely passing your brain, Yoona takes both of your hands and puts them on her hips, her message wordless, but crystal clear. You swiftly drag her wide, huggable, baby-making hips forth and back, as the two of you unite in an unfittingly innocent, tongue-less kiss. A few pushes and a few pulls at this rabid rhythm and your girlfriend bursts in orgasmic pleasure, releasing a whole downpour that wets from your thighs and calves up to your crotch, her pelvis shaking violently and uncontrollably. Even through all this, she manages to keep her lips shut and not emit a sound.

“Good, good, such a good girl, my pretty baby made Daddy so, so, so proud,” you praise her as you hug her soft, meaty body and pat her head.

“Thank you… Thank you…” she pants out, tired. It takes her more than a couple minutes wrapped around you to regain her senses. And when she does, you think you hear her say in a satisfied tone:

“Haha, I won!”

“What?”

“I won. I played with Daddy. Even though you said no. And I won.”

-

footnotes.

eh. numbly, leaf.

[psiroller]

Stop Smoking, We Love You

I wrote a little thing based on @unkat's chilaios EMS AU, which has consumed my little pea brain. you don't need a whole lot of context though. 1k words, cw mentions of medical trauma, smoking, drugs. title comes from the car seat headrest song which makes me misty eyed thinking about my stupid boys.

Chilchuck relished the icy cold breeze on his sweaty face as he burst out into the rear parking lot of the hospital, the one for the employees that visitors still park in. He patted himself down until the sharp corner of a fresh pack of Newports hit his palm, and he remembered he’d been trying to use the inside pockets after he’d accidentally dropped a pack during a call and wasted thirteen bucks and tax before he’d even opened the damn thing. He was fortunate enough to have remembered his lighter, too; Senshi’s visiting family this weekend and he has no one else to bum a light from. He’d gotten in trouble the last time he asked a patient out of desperation.

He flicked his zippo and lit it in one smooth motion, a party trick that had long worn out its novelty and was just about to put it to the menthol-cool cigarette between his lips when two large hands entered his vision. One clapped the zippo shut and the other pinched the cig by the filter, tugging both out of Chilchuck’s grip.

“Yoink.”

“You mother fucker—”

Laios laughed as Chilchuck lunged after the precious nicotine clutched in his big hands, held just out of reach.

“This doesn’t look like twenty feet to me,” Laios grinned.

“I was going to hold it in until I reached the grass, fuck off, alright?”

“Then you won’t mind if I walk with you?”

Laios returned what he’d taken, and Chilchuck snatched it back. “Fine, fine, whatever. Come freeze your ass off with me.”

They crossed the parking lot, stepping carefully across black ice and hopping the curb to stand in the grass, a foot beyond the premises. Chilchuck made pointed eye contact with Laios as he stuck the cigarette between his lips and flicked the lighter open and shut, taking a long drag. He debated breathing it in Laios’ face, but decided to turn away. He blew a thin plume of smoke that caught on the brisk wind and whipped away. “Happy?”

“Not exactly,” Laios admitted. “You shouldn’t smoke, Chil.”

Chilchuck scowled. “Oh, here we go… listen, it’s my right to poison my body however I want. Just look at our patients.”

Laios fought a grim laugh and failed. “Hey, you asked.”

“What’s it matter to you anyway?” Chilchuck asked, slurred around the filter. He took another long drag and tapped out the ash into the frozen grass.

“As a medical professional, I prefer not to watch people die.”

Chilchuck released the smoke through his nose, rolling his eyes. “Preference doesn’t matter much to us, does it?”

“I guess not.”

Another long drag. He’d somehow blasted half the cigarette already. “You sound like my youngest,” Chilchuck breathed, with a fondly exasperated smile. Laios shifted around, his cheeks going pink in the cold. “She’s in the middle of some kind of health course and it’s got her all freaked out. ‘Daddy, don’t smoke those, they’ve got rat poison in ‘em!’” Chilchuck said, affecting a raspy falsetto. “It was kinda cute, but she was pretty upset,” he sighed. “She was crying. Must be a pretty heavy-handed program.”

“I had that growing up,” Laios said. "They had a cop come in and everything. Showed us pictures of tracheotomies.”

“Is that what they’re doing?” Chilchuck hissed. “She’s nine! She’s too young for that shit. I’m gonna complain to the PTA.”

“Hey, it kept me off. Do you want her on it?”

Chilchuck’s mouth drew into a long, thin line. “I guess not.”

They stood there, Chilchuck smoking, Laios doing fuck all with his hands in his pockets. Chilchuck wondered why he was out here at all if he hated cigarettes and smoking so much. It was biting cold, blustery, damp. It was a holiday weekend and there was only a matter of time before they got another Narcan call, he could be catching a nap before rush hour, but he was here.

“Does it help?” Laios asked. “With the stress, I mean.”

“Gives me an excuse to step out,” Chilchuck shrugged. “Gives me something to look forward to. Gives me a reason to breathe in and out for a few minutes that isn’t that dippy yoga shit.”

“Have you ever done it? That dippy yoga shit?”

“Hell no.”

“You want to try it? I can show you a few poses.”

Chilchuck choked on smoke, something he hadn’t done in twenty years. “You? Yoga?” The ass definition suddenly made a lot of sense.

“I don’t take classes, but you can learn a lot from YouTube videos.”

“Hm.” It had been the class aspect that turned him off the most. It felt somehow more embarrassing than just rocking up to the gym at three in the morning and dissociating on the treadmill for a few hours. “I’ll think about it.”

“I think it’d be fun,” Laios said, and Chilchuck almost believed him. “And it’s helped me, you know. After rough calls.”

Chilchuck sucked down the last of his cigarette and blew it upwards, a brief break in the wind allowing it to coil in upon itself in midair, minute particles glittering in the warm, flickering glow of the light post and simmering down in his lungs. He leaned down to smash the smoldering filter into the curb, putting the butt in his junk pocket to avoid being further nagged.

“Alright,” Chilchuck relented. “Why the hell not?”

Laios beamed at him. Chilchuck could think of a thousand reasons against meeting up with his boss to do anything that didn’t involve getting a beer, but looking at that self-satisfied grin gave him one very good reason in his favor. “It’s a date.”

“No it’s not!” Chilchuck squawked. Laios skipped away. Skipped. “It’s not a date, Laios!”

“See you then!”

“Nice HR violation!” Chilchuck screamed. “Mother fucker.” He muttered to himself, tapping his pack angrily against his palm and flipping up a lid for one more, just to spite him, and looked down at the neat rows of little paper cylinders, pristine and fresh.

Chilchuck crammed the box back into his pocket and trudged inside.  

[steddie-island]

@steddiemas day 3 - Needing to be quiet | WC: 2041 | Rating: E No content warnings, full list of tags are on ao3.

With Extra Nuts

Eddie had seen Steve at work before. He knew what the stupid Scoops uniform looked like, knew about the dorky shorts and the red scarf that went around his neck, and the little goddamn hat. He knew that, when everything was put together, the employees looked more like they were ready to put on a bad play. 

He’d never seen it on Steve, though. When Eddie saw him before work he hadn’t put it on yet, and after work Steve had already changed. To see Steve wearing it would have required either a. Steve putting it on and modeling for his boyfriend (which he was not going to do, thank you very much) or b. Eddie going to the mall, and when the hell would he have had a need for that? 

Except today he had a need. Today he had a need and some free time, and he was curious. Maybe he wanted to see his always perfect boyfriend looking just a little less perfect in that stupid ass uniform, so sue him. 

Only that wasn’t how it worked out. Eddie walked in, his smile wide and his eyes gleaming, his new records hanging from his hand. And then he stopped, right there smack in the middle of Scoops Ahoy. 

Goddammit. 

How did he manage to make even the uniform fucking hot?

Steve was there, in his little sailor suit and that goofy fucking hat, with his little ice cream scoop hanging around his waist. His eyes were so wide and so pretty, his lips were so pink as he smiled at a kid across the counter. Then those caramel eyes were flicking up, catching Eddie’s gaze, and Eddie was a goner. 

He started moving again, but the teasing smile was gone from his face. He leaned across the freezer, lowered his voice. “When’s your break?” he asked. No greeting, no ‘hey, big boy,’ nothing. 

Steve looked over at the clock, showing the two moles that Eddie loved running his thumb over when they were making out. “I can take it now. Everything okay?” he asked. Eddie wasn’t sure he could answer, not when Steve was looking at him like that, licking his lips like that, pushing his hat off to run his fingers through his hair– “Yeah. Now?”

Steve whistled, gestured towards Eddie with a tilt of his head. “Can you handle the counter for twenty minutes?” he asked Robin. 

All it took was one look at the way Eddie was holding himself with his fists clenched and his eyes fixed to Steve’s lips, his own mouth parted a little, and– “Yeah, get out of here,” she said, wrinkling her nose a little. Steve tucked his hat into his apron pocket and moved to take it off. 

“Leave it on,” Eddie murmured. His fingers had moved from a fist to drum against the top of the freezer. 

Steve looked at him, really looked at him, and it clicked. He grinned and dropped the scoop onto the counter before jerking his head towards the back. “Van?”

Normally Eddie would have said yes, would have loved to have Steve spread beneath him or on top of him in the back of his van. They’d done it a lot– not that they needed to sneak or anything when Steve had the whole house to himself. Eddie just loved it, the way the rest of the world got shut out as they fucked in the little nest he’d set up back there for them. They could lay there after with the doors open, and they could just talk for hours. They’d fallen asleep like that more than once. 

Today, though, Eddie was in too big a hurry. He followed Steve through the back room, out into a back hallway. “Where does this door take us?” he asked. Steve was headed for an exit, but Eddie didn’t have time to traverse the parking lot, and other people. He needed his hands in those tight ass shorts right the fuck now. 

“It’s a storage closet– Eddie!” 

Eddie pushed the door open, dragged Steve inside and kicked the door closed behind them. It was bigger than a regular storage closet, with a frosted glass window. When he tried to flick the lightswitch there was nothing. They were alone in the dark, save for the light filtering through the glass. He dragged Steve deep into the closet, behind a tall shelf. There was a table tucked into the corner, and with a sweep of his arms Eddie had half of it cleared off.

“How are you so goddamn hot in that?” he asked. He was smiling now that they were alone and he didn’t need to keep himself composed. “Jesus Christ, I knew the uniform was bad, but…” 

“But?” Steve pressed. 

“I’ve never wanted to get my hands on you so fast in my fucking life. This thing is dangerous, baby.” Eddie pushed Steve’s shirt up just to dip his fingers beneath the waistband of his shorts. “This thing should be fucking illegal.” Their lips met in a hungry kiss. Steve’s hands tangled in Eddie’s hair, and then Eddie’s hands were gripping Steve’s ass and pulling him closer. 

The kiss didn’t last long, because then Eddie’s teeth were against his throat and Steve was crying out softly. “Fuck– I don’t have long–” “We’ll owe Robin,” Eddie murmured. He pulled on the chain connecting his wallet to his jeans and dug through until he had the sample lube packet he carried around. (“For emergencies,” he’d said, when Steve had found it the first time. Who was fucking laughing now? Not Steve!)

Eddie turned Steve around, bent him over the table, had his shorts down and two slick fingers against his hole in record time. 

“Jesus, Eddie–” Steve looked back at him with dark eyes. “Never seen you like this–” “Never seen you like this,” Eddie retorted. While one thick finger started working Steve open, he leaned in to nip and bite at Steve’s neck. “Gonna fuck you, honey. Fuck you so good. You look so good, you know that? Know how good your ass looks in these shorts?”

Steve could barely speak when Eddie got like this. Between the words against his ear and the finger working him over in a way that made his knees weak, it was all he could do to just whimper Eddie’s name. “That’s it,” Eddie encouraged. He rolled his hips, let Steve feel his cock through his jeans. “You fucking did that to me. Just seeing you behind the counter, looking so goddamn good, sweetheart. Like a– a fuckin’ painting or somethin.” 

A second finger breached Steve’s entrance and Steve gasped. 

“Shoulda– shoulda shown you months ago,” he panted. “Fuck, Eddie, that’s– fuck–” Eddie’s fingers curled up towards his prostate once, twice, over and over. “You’re always so loud. Someone’s gonna hear you, gonna know you’re in here getting it so good.” “Eddie–” Steve dropped his forehead to the table and whined, rolled his hips back against those long fingers, essentially fucking himself onto them. “Oh my god–” Eddie pushed Steve’s shirt up to nip at his back. “Tell me when you can take more–” “Now! Now now, I can take it,” Steve promised. “Fuck, Eddie, please–” “So greedy.” Eddie obliged, pressed a third finger inside before latching on to Steve’s shoulder blade with his teeth to suck a dark hickey there. His other hand came around to stroke Steve’s cock in time with the movement of his fingers in Steve’s ass. 

It was too much, too fast. Steve barely had time to get his apron out of the way before he was coming with a shout that he muffled by burying his teeth into his own bicep. 

Eddie’s fingers were gone, and then his cock was there, the thick head pressing past his rim. “So fucking tight, sweetheart,” he panted. He gripped Steve’s hip with his lube covered hand and buried his other hand in that head of hair. 

“Eddie–” Steve tried to drive back, to get more, but Eddie’s hold was meant to keep him from moving. Steve could get away if he wanted to, but he really didn’t fucking want to. “Just relax, I’ve got you, Stevie,” Eddie reminded him before driving forward and burying himself with one smooth stroke. Steve couldn’t help but cry out with the sudden jolt of pleasure; if not for Eddie’s hands and the table, he would’ve hit the floor. 

“Oh god, Eddie, fuck–” “You good?” Eddie breathed. “Too much?”

“No, fuck no. Just– move?” Steve urged. “Need more–” Eddie groaned and buried his face in Steve’s neck. He picked up a quick, hard rhythm. Steve’s chest was flush to the table, his hands holding on to the other side to help keep upright. 

“Yes– yes–” he encouraged with breathy little moans. “So good–” “That how you want it?” Eddie asked. “Wanna walk funny? Let everyone know– fuck– know how much you love getting fucked like this, honey?” His breath came in puffs against Steve’s ear as he kept driving his hips forward. “Yes–” Steve sobbed out. “God yes–”

“Hello?” The door creaked open, letting in a beam of light that ended just outside of where they stood. If they moved back, they would be visible. “Is someone in here?”

Eddie had stilled with his hips flush against Steve’s ass, and Steve had his mouth against his arm again to keep himself quiet. The lightswitch flicked up, down, up, back down once more before the door closed and they were left alone again. 

Mostly alone, anyway. Whoever had interrupted them was still standing outside, their outline visible in a crack between boxes on one of the higher shelves, and they were talking to someone else. Eddie could hear the low murmur of their voices, and if they could hear the strangers then…

“You have to be quiet,” Eddie whispered as he started rolling his hips again. “Gotta be quiet for me, sweetheart, or they’ll walk in and find you like this.” Steve rocked back as much as he could as the desire surged through him. He didn’t want to be caught, but knowing someone was right outside? It was as dangerous as Eddie had claimed his uniform was. 

“Want me to stop?” Eddie murmured, his hips slowing. 

Steve shook his head and drove back, impaling himself again. 

They moved together, quiet and fast, Steve’s little moans and whimpers barely concealed as he got closer and closer to his orgasm. 

He couldn’t warn Eddie when it happened, he could only shudder through it and bite his arm again to keep himself as quiet as possible– a feat made even more difficult when he could feel Eddie spilling deep into his body. 

They slumped against the table to let their breathing even out again. By the time Eddie felt like he could stand up straight the voices outside were gone. He huffed out a laugh, slipped out of Steve carefully. “Fuck. Fuck, you okay, sweetheart?”

Steve nodded as he straightened up, too. “Gonna need a new apron,” he said, grinning a little. He pulled it off, then turned to use it to clean himself up.  

“Tell ‘em I’ll pay for it.” Eddie tucked himself away, smoothed his hand through his hair. He had the patience to wait until Steve was completely dressed– sans apron– to pull him in for a kiss. It was slow, languid, less desperate than their last kisses had been. 

“You’re fuckin’ perfect, did you know that?” Eddie whispered. 

Steve pinked a little. “You keep telling me that, I’m gonna start believing it,” he said. 

“Good.” Eddie pecked his lips, his cheek, leaned down to kiss his moles. He wanted to stay here forever– the ‘here’ being Steve’s arms, not in the storage closet. They couldn’t hide in here forever, though. 

“Guess I have to get you back to work,” he said as he smoothed Steve’s hair back from his face. 

“Guess so.” Steve sighed, stole another kiss before grabbing his hat and perching it on his head. “I’ll still see you tonight, right?” “Yeah, tonight.” As they left the closet, Eddie with his bag in hand once more, he stopped and caught Steve’s sleeve between his fingers. “And Steve? Wear the uniform.” 

[n4talia-chaparro]

My stupid ass when I promise others I'll not ramble or be a disgusting weirdo 24/7 and ends up making weird shit like this for info,,,, 😬😬

UHH UH NO OK LIKE-- I DID PROMISE I WOULD STFU AND STUFF BUT I DIDN'T WANNA LOSE ANY URGE TO INFO DUMP ABOUT IT UHH--

MY SILLY THOUGHTS WAS FILLED WITH SCRAPPED AND REMOVED IDEAS THAT I ACCIDENTALLY BROUGHT SOME OF THEM BACK uhh-- Professor P is involved but no one knows when is he gonna appear because I'm scared of you people sometimes. So scared I would ACCIDENTALLY mess it up or abstract them back til further notice uhh.

him?? Yes him cuz again idk when am I gonna add him or when is he gonna appear. Keep that in mind the AU is very LONG it may have sequels or a spin-off AU based on it. And maybe that motherfucker will end up coming out of nowhere with the rest of the characters involved.

I've been getting slightly inspired by those silly mlp infection au trends or sum and I've been wanting to develop half of the au by making something with character info. Not sure why the fuck I thought it was a good idea. I just thought it would be cool to imagine the AU looking like this except with NO infection or virus. Just a murderer on a loss and having some silly analog horror vibes and shii because half of the crappy au took heavy inspiration from the analog horror community and the other stuff that I already mentioned a couple of times but I keep repeating it in case new people don't know and I'm scared to know if I'm accidentally hurting them or not with the content.

UH I MEAN I'M HOPING TO MAKE MORE STUFF SIMILAR TO THAT SOON uhh. Again I'm not proud of how they came out and maybe one day I can try to turn them into a random ass analog VHS or whatever everyone calls those in the analog horror community because I get easily confused with the "vhs" videos when it comes to watching them um--

Anyways...

A normal version without the static and crappy filter.

Funny ass truck frr 😭😭

[nimmie-nugget]

can you write a one shot about mui accidentally consuming edibles from a stranger on the streets and then completely losing his filter and roasting everyone (including yui) 😨

~Muichiro loses his Filter~

Warnings: Muichiro speaks, ooc, roasts aren’t roasting, not proofread

Note: Pfft- 🤣🤣🤣 I had some fun writing this one! These are not rlly roasts but it’s the random shizz that came up in my mind at the time I was writing this I’m sorry 😭😭😭 Enjoy! <3 This has been rotting in my drafts for a while now

Masterlist

Hashira Yuichiro AU

Muichiro=Blue, Yuichiro=Purple

3RD POV

It was currently morning as the Tokito twins just finished their missions. They stopped by a small stand where their was an old man selling treats “Nii-san let’s buy some of those!” Muichiro said pointing at the stand full of treats “We can’t, we need to save our yen for a full meal.” “But Nii-san!!!” He whined as Yuichiro sighed. “Fine, just don’t come asking for my food when your hungry.” He said sternly making sure to raise his tone at the ‘my’ “don’t worry Nii-san! I’d never eat your food because I don’t want you hungry!” Yuichiro gave some yen to his brother as he watched Muichiro run off to the stand, after a few minutes of waiting patiently Muichiro came back. They continued their walk as they were near their destination.

The twins were currently at a ramen shop as Yuichiro gobbled down on his ramen, his brother Muichiro was sleeping and eventually Yuichiro finished his meal. Yuichiro shakes his brother awake as Muichiro stirred awake.

Muichiro blinked as he stared at his brother for a good 10 seconds until he rubbed his eyes. Muichiro groaned and stared at his brother in disgust “Muichiro stop looking at me like that!” Yuichiro said as he bonked Muichiro’s head “stfu you dumb excuse of a human.” “…I’m gonna kill you.” “Tell me what is a donkey ugly bitch ass lookin stupid woman like you gonna do to me?” Yuichiro deadpanned as Muichiro threw the empty bowl of ramen on the ground and suddenly the owner came out that he was gay and proceeded to scold the younger twin.

“do you ever shut up? This is why you get no hoes lmfao, small pp bald ass bitch” Yuichiro’s face dusted with pink because of embarrassment. “You gozzamn useless ass of a manwhore who can’t even get hoes lol lmao so embarrassing” said Muichiro as Yuichiro’s right hand went to grip his brothers left shoulder and he whisper-shouted in Muichiro’s ear “Muichiro! Shut up! Let’s just go back to our estate!” Muichiro immediately whipped his head towards Yuichiro “your telling me that I live with you!? This is ridiculous!” He said stubbornly.

“How can I! I the one and only live with a mint flavoured with some chocolate ice creamed hair!!!! Muichiro grumbled as Yuichiro deadpanned again “we look the same.” Yuichiro said losing his patience. Yuichiro looked towards the owner who was absolutely frozen, Yuichiro took a fistful of his brothers hair and ran towards their estate dragging Muichiro as he flailed around.

The twins arrived to their estate as Yuichiro slammed his brother to the ground knocking him out, Yuichiro let out a sigh and he dragged his brothers body to their room. Yuichiro set up two futons and once again slammed his brothers body onto the futon.

Muichiro POV

I groaned as I woke up, I put my left hand on my head only to be met with a slap. I blinked a few times taking in my surroundings as the first person I see is my brother “Nii-san! Why did you slap me!!!” I whined but I didn’t receive an answer, now looking clearly at Yuichiro’s face. It was an unrecognizable expression “I’M GONNA KILL YOUUUUUUUU” oh…it seems it’s gonna be a long day huh…I mentally embraced myself knowing what’s coming.

Taisho Secrets!

Yuichiro did in fact share his food with his brother 🤗

Yuichiro did not shake his brother awake but instead pulled on Mui’s hair hard enough till Mui woke up😀

Yuichiro is left armless 💪🥰

Yuichiro did not pay for the ramen 😋🍜

Yuichiro killed Muichiro 😱

Yuichiro woke up early to kill Muichiro 🤯

The secrets above all start with Yuichiro 🌫️🗡️

The twins did not bring a lot of money so that explains why Yui was worrying about it-

I don’t think these are even secrets but they are now bcs I said so😎👌

[osoro-sh1ronagebyokken]

Read at AO3 right now!

Chapter 2

The next day, back at the modest dojo he’s training in, the luminous lights flickered to the whole dojo alongside the sun that filtered through the window. Casting more light inside the slight dark taekwondo dojo.

Hansu wasn’t in the best mood with all the teasing yesterday, he was still slightly annoyed at the statement from yesterday.

“..Then why don’t you have a girlfriend yet?” Hansu’s left eye twitched thinking about that, he felt annoyed but Osoro made a point on what she said. Why doesn’t he have a girlfriend if he’s that hot.

“Oy!” A tough yet feminine, familiar voice calls out to his name with an add-on. “Freaky Seong!” Hansu flinched slightly when he heard the voice calling him, He knew exactly who it belonged to.

“God dammit—” He muttered under his breath, bracing himself when he turned around to meet Osoro. He's annoyed.. Did I tease him too much? She thought but shaked that thought down to the back of her head. “Didn't I say I'll shove those green tea packets down your throat? Did you drink them?” 

Hansu rolled his eyes when Osoro asked him if he drank the green tea packets. He sighed in annoyance and responded in a slightly frustrated tone. “No, I didn't drink those stupid tea packets yet. And stop trying to shove them down my throat, goddamn it.”

“I will literally shove it up your ass, now drink.” Osoro said, calculating her strength on her left hand and raising it high and delivering a striking hand knife strike to his head again, as a greeting from her. 

He winced in pain when Osoro hit his head again with the same stinging, striking strength made its way towards his poor head. He was getting frustrated at Osoro’s stubbornness about making him drink the green tea. "Ow- why do you have to hit me every time I see you? Goddamnit-" He said, rubbing his head. But then he sighed and looked at Osoro again.

"Fine, I'll drink the damn tea-"

"Good,"

Osoro smiled, it wasn’t friendly nor gentle and stuff, it was invisible, small, unreadable as if she didn’t want him seeing that. “What?”

"I'm just waiting for you to drink, but if you really don't i'll shove it up-" Hansu sliced through her sentence with a frustrated sentence, cutting her off. "Okay, fine I'll drink it!"

He felt creeped out by Osoro’s staring, he figured out she might be thinking of shoving the green tea packet up his ass, He quickly took a few sips, cringing at the bitter taste, and then looked back at Osoro. "There, I did it, okay? Happy now?"

"Good, green tea helps with headaches so the next time I karate-chop you, and also digestive issues." And mental alertness..

Hansu rolled his eyes at her words about the green tea helping with headaches and digestive issues. He wondered how many times she was going to karate-chop him in the head. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. So you're telling me the only reason you're giving me this green tea is so that I feel better after you karate-chop me?" He asked, his tone slightly sarcastic.

"Yes, so I can get away with giving you concussion-"

Hansu groaned in annoyance when he heard Osoro say that. He didn't like the idea of her getting away with giving him a concussion. "Oh, so that's your plan, huh? To give me a concussion and then give me green tea to make me feel better? I swear, you're such a pain in the ass" Osoro only smiled then replied. "And your a good subject for karate-chopping- and also roundhouse kicking-"

He narrows his eyes at this statement, his tone turning defensive as he stares in disbelief a shor- er, a kid like her would roundhouse kick him, "Wait, hold on- did you just say you're going to roundhouse kick me? I swear to God, if you even try that.."

"Judging by that, I can actually kick you right now if you tease me-."

Hansu paused for a moment, feeling a bit worried at the thought of Osoro kicking him. He crossed his arms and retorted with slight annoyance. "What, you're going to kick me because I might tease you? Come on, I wasn't even doing anything-"

Karate-chop!

Hansu flinched in pain when she karate-chopped his head again. He gritted his teeth and rubbed his head. Lowering his head as  he rubs his head in pain. "Ow! Dammit, why do you have to keep doing that?"

"Drink your tea, it's getting cold." She said, coldly and distantly yet commandingly or she’ll karate chop his head again. He let out a large sigh, knowing there was no escape from this feisty kid, knowing he had to drink green tea otherwise another karate-chop to the head—

He took a sip from the cup.

Hansu couldn’t help but notice the way Osoro was looking at him, and it made him slightly curious. He took another sip from the cup before asking. "You know, you could just take a picture if you want. It's not like I would mind."

"If I take a photo of you, my phone will be ruined." She replies, with her usual tough, rude, arrogant tone and this peaked Hansu’s curiosity on why her phone would be ruined if she snapped a photo of him. 

He felt confused and slightly flustered. She couldn’t tell if she was being serious or just teasing him again. "What? Why would your phone be ruined?" He asked, a mix of curiosity and scepticism in his tone.

"Because you're ugly as hell." She said, crossing her arms and standing proudly. Her expression is proud, but he doesn’t know what she’s thinking right now but his expression turned into a mock offence, pretending to be hurt by her words. He clutched his chest dramatically and responded in a sarcastic tone

"Ouch, that hurts. My heart is breaking right now. Please, have some mercy on this ugly face of mine." 

"Hah, caught ya! Ya told ya self you're ugly."

Hansu rolled his eyes again, realising that she had tricked him into calling himself ugly. He crossed his arms as well and retorted. "Hey, you tricked me into saying that! That doesn't count!" Osoro grinned, almost laughing but she stopped her laughter and stifled it by taking deep breaths. "It does."

Hansu slumped his shoulders, straightening it again and rolling his eyes, feeling slight defeat and frustration that he had fallen for Osoro’s (indirect) trick.

"Not really, it still counts, because you said It yourself.” Osoro proudly said, pulling her arms, holding her both sides with her hands, leaning her body back. Showing confidence in her (tricks).

Hansu let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. He couldn't believe that Osoro was still insisting on teasing him. "Geez, you're really stubborn, you know that? Fine, I may have accidentally called myself ugly, but that doesn't mean I actually think that. Okay?"

"Do I need to karate-chop you again? Or you'll drink that tea in one gulp." She dismissed the question, while Hansu let out an exasperated sigh, rolling his head at her threat. "Fine, fine! I'll drink the tea, alright? You don't have to karate-chop me anymore. Just stop with the threats, please." He took a few sips of the tea, trying to get it over quickly.

"I'm giving you five seconds to finish that."

Hansu grumbled under his breath but complied, knowing she was just going to threaten him again if he didn't finish. He quickly drank the rest of the tea, trying to gulp it down as quickly as possible. "There, I finished it. Are you happy now?" Osoro nods.

[duckiemimi]

Its interesting to me how Gojo's english VA rejects or simply doesn't see the subtext StSG has but he's so open about his admiration for GJHm because he apparently pulls the same pranks on his wife like Gojo messes with Uta. And he even went as far as to say "C'mon guys, they're best friends" in regards to people being vocal about StSG relationship.

i’m gonna be honest, i’d rather listen to what the Japanese VAs have to say about anything jjk related (but especially about geto and gojo’s characters and relationship) considering the English Dub’s blunder with toji in season 2.

if u aren’t aware, the English Dub scriptwriters took liberties with a certain translation—in the manga toji says, “oh…i remember now. megumi. the name means blessings. and i’m the one who gave him that name.” meanwhile, the english dub of this scene became, “oh, speaking of blessings. that’s right, i almost forgot. i named my cursed spirit megumi.”

to twist a translation so badly that it takes away from what the actual scene was supposed to portray (toji remembering his son, megumi)—of course, whoever wrote the script is at fault here, not the actual VA, but it makes me doubt their commitment to the story’s authenticity. i’m not sure if this happened bc of lack of research or if they were trying to paint toji in a certain light.

i mean, language is fickle anyway; there’s so much cultural subtext that gets lost in translation and perhaps that could be the case here. but it could also be internalized homophobia, or just blatant homophobia.

i’m a big advocate for shipping whatever u want and respecting ppl’s boundaries! if someone dislikes or is uncomfortable with a ship, then don’t talk to them about it. in a similar line, if u dislike or are uncomfortable with a ship, filter, mute, and block! but to try and pass off ur biases as canon? bc of ur own lived experiences/personal values/trauma? c’mon now. preferences are preferences—none of our ships are canon, anyway (at least for now, but even then, that’s never stopped ppl from shipping characters in a confirmed relationship with other characters—and that’s fine!)

there is some nuance in situations like these, if we really wanna get into the nitty gritty. men can be close friends, sure! but if u bring a woman in to counter someone’s gay ship/hc, then u’re doing it in bad faith and ur obviously biased. queer subtext will almost always be ignored by a straight audience anyway, mainly bc they’re not familiar with it, and they might even be uncomfortable with exploring concepts that don’t fit their worldview.

again, if u a wanna ship gjhm, by all means, go ahead! just don’t be headass about it. don’t deny the possibility of other ships, either—specifically stsg bc that ship alone has more canon “proof” (that’s what they call it) than any other ship with their characters. don’t go and pull dumb excuses or justifications out of ur ass to dismiss other ships (or ship dynamics) bc u’re gonna look stupid. like what u like and don’t go to war with other ppl for liking different things!

(also, i’m using the universal “u/you” here, anon! i’m not accusing or addressing u in these paragraphs!)

(also also, if this VA pulls the type of “pranks” gojo pulled on utahime on his wife, i’m a little concerned. those aren’t pranks. gojo genuinely thought he was better than her in the hidden inventory arc. in gojo’s case, he wasn’t wrong bc he was and still is the pinnacle of jujutsu, so he would’ve called anybody weak regardless of their circumstance—he’s much more tactful about it nowadays, anyway. in the VA’s case? umm…but that’s none of my business.)

[halogalopaghost]

Shroud

read on AO3

After all the screaming, the silence that settled over the triage tent was deeply unsettling.

April remembered Casey sitting on the couch at her old place and watching TV a million years ago, before the world ended. He grimaced at a hockey game and announced that no matter how badass a guy was, if his knee was bent the wrong direction, he was gonna scream like a little girl. That Caseyism had been proven to her time and again over the last eight years they’d spent trying to save the human race, by the biggest and baddest of asses and even Casey himself. Still, some little part of her, the same part that saw him as her little brother and maybe a little bit invincible, must have thought Raphael was the exception.

He was not.

They had a hard time at first figuring out why he was screaming. There was so much going on around them, so much chaos and blood, there was no saying how much of his crying was caused by the physical versus emotional. Either way, the syringe of fentanyl had taken care of it.

The resistance usually hoarded those drugs like precious gold. They were only being manufactured in very small amounts these days, and even then they were nigh upon impossible for the resistance to get their hands on. The turtles were no exception to this rule—they had endured countless wounds and even surgical procedures that they really should have been sedated for, all without anesthetics or narcotic pain medication. And even though April was the one they all called commander, everyone knew Leonardo was a close second; so when he told the medic to knock his brother’s ass out, that medic did as he was told.

Leonardo stood at April’s shoulder as she sat beside the surgeon, watching him stitch Raph’s newly-empty eye socket closed. Her own eyes were swollen and raw from crying, and she had yet to even get through the worst of it. She knew she was in for a second, more volatile breakdown later when the reality of it really hit her. When she laid down to go to sleep and Casey wasn’t there, when the other half of the bed was empty—

“I’m sorry,” Leo whispered. “I wouldn’t let him go back in. I—” he cut himself off and took a breath.

April usually would have pressed him to go on and not hold back for her sake—she was leading the goddamn resistance, she needed to know everything and not be protected even by these turtles who spent most of their time by her side, these days. But today, just this once, she was going to let him shield her from the gory details. Maybe someday she’d want to hear the story about how her brave, stupid husband went out in a blaze of glory, but not the very same day as that death.

“I didn’t want to lose either of them, but I didn’t want to lose both of them,” Leo finally finished. "I'm so sorry." He rested his hand on April’s shoulder, and she leaned into the touch.

“You did all you could, Leo. This is just what war is.”

He was quiet for a moment. The surgeon tied off the last stitch. “Still sucks.”

“Yeah. Still sucks.”

Raph's awareness came to him in bits and pieces. Hearing came first, as it always did, and was accompanied by an unpleasant ringing. High pitched screaming from all around him that he couldn't shut off, because he had a habit of standing a little too close to explosions. H It wasn't new to him, just somehow worse than usual. Beyond the ever-present screech he could hear the soft sounds of life—someone shifting in a chair, feet scuffing concrete floors, the groan of the wounded somewhere nearby.

The pain filtered in after that, and he sucked a breath in through his teeth. Son of a bitch, his face was on fire. His head felt like it was in a vice, and his leg didn't feel real good either, but he was pleased to find that he could wiggle all ten fingers and toes. Still doing better than Mike.

He tried to open his eyes and a whimper of pain escaped him. Fuck, his face hurt! Why'd his face hurt so bad? It hadn't even hurt this much that time he fractured his cheekbone.

"Raph?"

April's voice. He stiffened. He couldn't remember exactly why, but he knew he didn't want to see her at the moment.

He couldn't think through the thick fog of pain on his mind, the searing pain on his face was far more pressing than whatever reason he was avoiding April this time. He thought fondly of ibuprofen. Remember that? He asked his body. Remember ibuprofen? He could go for about eight hundred of those bad boys.

A hand slotted into his, small and cold, even to him. He squeezed her fingers. I hear you.

An almost-unnoticeable sigh of relief. More chair squeaking as she adjusted. "You haven't been out too long, only about a day. If you wanna go right back to sleep, I won't tell."

He forced himself to breathe through the pain. You gotta breathe deeply, Donnie always said, even if it hurts. I'm not treating your sorry shell for pneumonia.

He missed his brother. He would trade any and every painkiller in the world for his know-it-all brother. Hell, he'd trade the world itself.

He lifted his other hand to his face, searching blindly for the reason it hurt so badly. April lurched forward to stop him, but it was too late. His rough, calloused fingers caught on the cotton gauze, and he stopped cold.

It all came back to him at once. The fire, the searing heat, that last glimpse of Casey he caught right before the boiler blew—

His head was splitting open like an egg, brain running down his face. It had to be. Nothing else could hurt this badly. He felt tears rush to his eyes and bit back a cry of pain. Why did his goddamn face hurt so much? He dug at the hurt with the heel of his hand—and the world around him shook.

April grabbed his hand and wrenched it away from his face. "Raph, stop! You're gonna hurt yourself!"

It was too fucking late for that, it already hurt. It hurt it hurt it hurt, the tears, the loss, the burns, the everything. It stung and burned and fucking hurt all over.

"You need painkillers," she said. It wasn't a question.

"No," he hissed. "I'm fine. Save 'em, I'm fine."

He heaved a few unsteady breaths. He could control this, he could do it. He just...needed a minute.

"What's the damage?" His voice was too thin. He needed a drink.

April's long silence was telling. Raph touched the gauze again, gentle and cautious this time.

"Whole thing's gone, huh?"

"Shrapnel ruptured the sclera and pierced the musculature behind it. You're lucky it didn't end up in your brain." She didn't say I'm sorry, they all stopped saying it a long time ago. It was an unspoken constant; they were all sorry.

"'S what I get," he mumbled. He dropped his hands to his chest and let out a breath. The pain still raged on, but he could tune it out. "And—is he...did Casey make it out?"

All the air in the room turned to ice. Raph knew his hearing wasn't really that sensitive anymore, but he woulda swore he heard April's heart beat faster. Every second passed like an eon in the horrible moment between dread and knowledge.

"No," she whispered.

Raph’s fists clenched. He could learn to live without the eye. Fight without it, do life without it, keep hope alive without it. But without Casey—? He clutched at the gauze as white-hot, urgent pain ricocheted around in the empty socket. The rush of tears burned.

It tore a hole in his fucking heart. He couldn't do this without Casey, without his best friend that stood by him through thick and thin and unwaveringly supported him. His big brother, his confidant, the only person outside of his immediate family that ever really understood him and saw all of his inner struggle. His chest heaved with empty breath. And April—fuck, April was a widow. He couldn't save her husband, the one constant that she had. She didn't even have anything to bury. Raph failed her, he failed to bring Casey home even if it was in a body bag.

"Leo told me what happened."

No wonder she was here, she was waiting for him to wake up so she could tell him how many ways he could go fuck himself. He didn't say I'm sorry, it wouldn’t change a thing. She was probably real sorry too.

April's hand closed around his forearm, and it burned like condemnation and hellfire. "You can't blame yourself. Don't."

He sucked a sharp breath in. “What?”

Tears shimmered in her eyes. “He wouldn’t want you to blame yourself, Raph. You know that.”

“It—it was my fault. He wanted to fall back, he said we needed to cut our losses—”

“And he was wrong. You gave the extraction team the extra few minutes they needed, he—” the tears finally spilled over and she paused to sniffle. “Casey was the only one who didn’t make it.”

That…was really good. That was the lowest fatality rate of a rescue mission in a long time. And with the prisoners they freed…they’d actually come out with positive numbers, rather than total losses. Casey would be damn proud of that. Of them.

Raph got real quiet.

There was a time that he would have let April gather him up into her arms and hold him until the sorrow had eased. There was a time, too, when he would have gotten out of bed and screamed and punched the walls, broken whatever he could get his hands on. But he used up his sorrow when Donnie went away, and after Splinter left, his anger was exhausted too. He just laid there with tears silently running down his face, eyes covered and body trembling silently. He had nothing left.

“I’m sorry,” he said through clenched teeth. Even though he didn’t have to. Even though it didn’t mean anything. “I’m so fucking sorry.” A sob caught in his throat and he strangled it into an anguished swear. He didn’t deserve to cry when his best friend’s widow, his fucking sister, was sitting there mourning beside him.

“Raph, it’s not your fault. It’s Shredder.”

That’s what she said every time they lost something else to this fucking godforsaken war—it’s not your fault Splinter died, it’s Shredder, it’s not your fault Mikey’s radius and ulna were reduced to fucking atoms, it’s Shredder. Well who failed to stop him in the first place, huh? Of course it was his fault, of course it was.

Silence, long and uncomfortable and condemning, stretched on in the sickbay. There wasn’t any privacy in the apocalypse—on the other side of the dirty shower curtain barely three feet from Raph’s cot, there was another guy mourning some other loss. Another wounded, another mourner, another dead, another I’m sorry that didn’t mean a damn thing. It never ended.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” April eventually said. “Considering.”

Considering the one-less-eyeball. Raph finally peeled open the one functioning eye he still had and took a long look at April. She was blurry—if his vision hadn’t been so good before the total loss of depth perception, it was shit now. Still, he didn’t need to see in HD to know her eyes were bloodshot and rimmed with red.

“Are you sure you don’t need meds?”

He nodded. The deep, stabbing headache would keep him in bed, but honestly, he didn’t care. He wanted to curl up and drown in the misery just for a little while. “You should sleep, Commander.”

She smiled bitterly. “Do I look that bad?”

“Dunno,” he answered honestly. “From here ya just look fuzzy. Am I wrong?”

She sighed and scrubbed tears off her already-raw face. “You’re right.” A beat. Then, barely audible, “Bed’s awful empty.”

Without a second thought, Raph scooted to the side of the narrow cot until his shell met open air. He patted the mattress, and April curled up in the vacated space beside him. She wasn’t even fully settled in before the first heartbroken sob tore out of her throat.

Raph held her close and closed his eye. Fuck this. Fuck Shredder. Fuck everything.

  Making the choice to leave came easier than he expected it to.

The same day that the medic cleared him to leave the sickbay, Raph went to his bunk and started packing. He just couldn’t take it anymore—the constant battle, the loss, the grief, but most of all, the constant fear. As long as there were loved ones nearby, there was fear. Mikey, April, Angel, shit, even Leo—there wasn’t a second of the day that he wasn’t pants-shittingly terrified that they would be next, and he couldn’t take any more! He just couldn’t take any more. Donnie, Splinter, now Casey too? He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t take any more empty graves.

He couldn’t even bring Casey’s body home to his wife.

His eye, the one that still had an eyeball in it, burned with unshed tears as he shoved his shit in a bag. He didn’t know yet where he was gonna go; the sewers weren’t safe anymore, central park was razed ages ago. He was gonna have to leave the city. Maybe the farm up in Northampton was still safe, none of them had been up there since the summer Donnie went missing.

He reached into the drawer of the beat-up bedside table and his new lack of depth perception finally got him, he slammed his hand right into the back of the drawer and cursed.

Mike blearily peeked out from the top bunk, then grinned. It was the middle of the day, but he looked half asleep. He must have been on night watch. “Arr, matey, it be good to see ye up and about. Hah, eyepatch humor.” His smile flickered at the sight of the bag. “Where—where are you going?”

Raph looked down. “Leaving. I can’t fuckin’ do this anymore, Mike.”

He scoffed. “You’re kidding. You can’t just run off and do your lone-wolf thing anymore Raph, it’s not safe.” A long silence passed. “Come on, be real, dude. Where are you gonna go?”

“I dunno. But I am leaving.”

There was a brief silence. “Fuck you.”

Raph one-eyed blinked.

“What, are you going on some one-man suicide mission against the Shredder or something? We aren’t kids anymore Raph.”

“No, I’m just—I’m leaving, okay? It’s none of your fucking business.”

“Fuck you,” he repeated. He rolled over in his bunk and disappeared into his scratchy wool blanket. “You’ll be back in a week.”

Raph didn’t bother with the contents of the drawer. On his way out of the barracks, something thwacked him on the shoulder, then fell to the concrete. He caught a rustle from Mike’s bunk as he knelt to pick it up.

It was a red mask with one eye stitched closed.

He moved on to the kitchen and stole some rations—nothing crazy, just a few days’ worth. It wasn’t difficult. Everyone knew who he was, everyone knew the turtles were April’s second-third-fourth in command, so no one questioned him as he gathered shit up.

He didn’t go out of his way to say goodbye to Leo. He wouldn’t have said anything to Mikey either if they hadn’t shared a bunk. Leo had tried to stop him from leaving a hundred times before—both back when they were kids and since they had helped form this ramshackle ‘resistance’—and this time he wasn’t going to give him the chance. He tossed the bag over his shoulder and headed out on foot.

He expected Leo, was braced to argue with him and even fight past him if he had to. He wasn’t expecting April. In fact, April might have been the last person he wanted to see. It was her that he was running from, after all.

She stood propped against the wall by the gate with Casey’s giant bomber jacket draped over her shoulders. It was just starting to get chilly out in the evenings, barely cold enough for her to need it. Just the sight of the thing made him want to curl up in a ball and cry his guts out.

She looked up as he approached and of course—of course she didn’t look angry. She looked hurt.

“Don’t try to talk me outta it.”

She shook her head. “Why? I don’t get it.”

He sighed and looked away. Even blurry, he couldn’t stand the sight of her so heartbroken. “Why can’t you just be mad at me already? Yell at me, hit me, get it over with.”

“Raph, I’m not going to be—”

“You should be!” he yelled. “I couldn’t even bring him home in a body bag! He wanted to get out and I stopped him!” His empty eye socket burned again, it truly was insult to injury that crying hurt so much. “He should have come back—he shoulda been the one that came back, and not me.”

April pushed away from the wall and came to stand in front of him. He had caught up to her a little bit height-wise, but she would always be a little bit taller. She cupped his cheek in her hand and chewed on her lip for a moment. “You’re my brother, Raphie.”

He stood there in her grasp, choking back the tears that ran down his face anyways.

She tilted his head forward and planted a soft kiss on his head, then shrugged out of the jacket. She slung it around his shoulders instead. “You’re really going?”

“I have to. I—I gotta get outta here, April.”

She sniffled, then sobbed quietly, but she nodded. She wasn’t going to try to stop him. “Don’t forget about us, okay?”

He wiped tears off his own face and nodded. “Okay.”

There was a moment of hesitation, and before he could second-guess himself, Raph pulled her into a tight hug. She felt so small and breakable in his arms. Mike would watch over her—he was probably the one who sent her out here to begin with.

Dusk turned to night as he held on to her. She didn’t move or complain, content to hold on as long as he would let her. Eventually he had to let go. They both sniffled, but nothing else was said.

She watched him go, Casey’s jacket around his shoulders, until he faded away into the night.

[spctrsgf]

bounties + hunters ● encounter two

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summary: Jakku and paranoia. Paranoia and Jakku. Not such a great pair, especially with all the sand dunes. Right?

word count: 2.3k

warnings: language, canon type violence, mentions of blood

a/n: im so so so so sorry for how long this took me to write, i hit a bit of a block when trying to get the story up and running, apologies about that !!

It’d been a month since you’d last seen him. You’d been counting.

It’s not like you’ll ever see him again, really: the universe is so big that it would take an epiphany of perfect moments to get the two of you to meet again. He could be anywhere by now, Hoth or Tatooine or some desolate planet in the Outer Rim. 

Yet, it’s like you missed him or something, or maybe you’re just tired, but you swear you keep seeing him out of the corner of your eye. You can hear his modulated voice at the booth to your left, ordering some food for himself or maybe something to place in that floating metal orb he has. Does he even still have that thing anymore?

But he’s not, of course. You whip your head around so fast you must’ve pulled more than a few muscles, but he’s not there. Just the booth, the merchant stationed at it, and an empty vat of space where you wished he’d be standing. 

Playing it off was harder than it looked: having to say you thought you heard music or something distracting was not as easy as words made it seem. You’re sure there was some sort of weird look strung between the two merchants you’d been between that one time on Tatooine, they probably even gossiped about it after you’d left.

Honestly? It was kind of tiring. After a few days living in constant paranoia, you were convinced you were schizophrenic or something along those lines. Another week or two taught you not to turn every time you thought you saw the light hit his beskar helmet, and to turn slower if you couldn’t quite stop that urge.

You’d curbed the urge twice during your long walk to your next bounty today, and the pep in your step is a sign of how proud you were, because you were definitely not thrilled to be walking this long and far. It’d been difficult to watch your six, but you made it work. Sort of.

Your hand came up to pat the linen that wrapped itself around your arm, covering the scar beneath it. On your last hunt, your very aversion to the delusion cost you a slice along the ripple of your bicep. It’s a careful balance; when to jump into attack and when to walk away like there was nothing you’d seen at all.

You gaze at the stretches of sand dunes ahead of you, really cursing the fact that you didn’t carry a speeder in your ship nor rent one from the town you’d left your ship in for its next tune up. The sweat rolls down your back, soaking the fabric of your undershirt and pooling at the overshirt wrapped tightly around your waist. You bring your hand up again to swipe at the condensation on your forehead, pushing your hair back from your face to cool yourself down as quickly as possible. 

The burn laps at the muscles in your legs as you edge on for two hours in the unrelenting beat the sun plays on your shoulders, but you push on nonetheless. You grit your teeth and stumble up and over the next sand dune, pulling out the tracking fob to see the ever blinking red light strumming its tune of disappointment in your lack of enthusiasm. “Stupid fucking bounty,” you grumble aloud, unbothered to filter your thoughts in the confidentiality that no one could hear you in the mounds upon mounds of sand. “Had to be in the middle of fucking nowhere on the shittiest planet with the shittiest fucking terrain where the fucking sun can drag it’s bitch ass nails into my fucking back!!!”

“Well, you’re really angry.”

You don’t turn. Your steps don’t even falter: you don’t fall for it, not when you’d resisted the quicksand your brain had set for you to fall into. You turn slightly to the left to more accurately trek towards your bounties location, shaking your head to clear the illusion from your head. He’s not there, The rational, beskar hard side of your brain screams. Don’t turn around. That’s not him, he’s gotta be on some weird planet, not here. He’s not behind you, that’s not a spark of beskar in your peripheral, the drawl of his voice isn’t there, don’t fall for it—

A hand is on your shoulder now. In the split second before you react, your brain teeters on the precipice of it, pondering the implication that it could be him. Time reaches near standstill in the moment of hope, of the dream that you actually would get to see him again. Wouldn’t that be crazy? Somehow, in some pitiful way, your paranoia brought him back to you. Maker, the possibilities could be endless. Maybe you could even strike up a deal to find out more about him, maybe even get him to let you tag along on his travels. It’d be quick, you’re quite good with negotiation. 

But it’s gone all too soon, you're out of the clouds back in real time and doing exactly what you’re trained to do: fight.

Words extend themselves towards you, but you don’t give them a fucking second. Your elbow is ramming backwards into the figure behind you, and you're turning to kick in their knee without even registering the pain nor the hard surface you rebounded against. You’re halfway through your kick before the person is able to catch up and recover from the impact of your move, quickly swinging their leg outwards and letting your weight fall forward with the lost contact. 

Their hands are grabbing your shoulders before you can get a face full of the grain below you, and you yelp in frustration, not because you can’t eat some of that godforsaken sand but because you refused to turn around when you heard something and nearly suffered more damage because of it. Your yelp knots into somewhat of a battle cry as you shove yourself up and out of their grip to attack again, angry and disappointed and really fucking tired.

“Hey,” Your attacker tries again, grip turning to steel on your arms. “It’s me!” You yelp, adrenaline overcome by the pain induced by the squeeze of their rough gloves on your bandage and therefore your cut. “Get off me, you fucker!” You growl, finally looking up.

The anger drains from you in a second, dissipating into the billion tiny grains of sand that caved around you. 

“I’m sorry.” He removes his hands from your arms but hovers them near as if to catch you if you were to run. 

You blink once, twice, three times, and then you turn. “No. Nope!”

“Where are you going?” He swings out to grab you, but you’re already out of reach.

“NOPE!” You yell into the slight breeze. “You don’t get to trick me! Not today! He’s not there, that’s just you being tired and–” the word twists sour on your tongue before launching out in a jut of disgust. “Missing him.”

He’s in front of you now. How the fuck did he move so fast? “What’re you talking about?”

You bump into the beskar covering his chest, and the grunt of frustration you expel stems from both the pain of hitting it and the fact that he was actually standing in front of you. 

“Hey.” His voice grounds your fraying mind. 

You brush your hair from your face again. “Hi.”

“You sound tired.”

“Thanks. What a kind compliment.” You’re brushing past him again with a snarl.

“That’s– that’s not what I meant.”

“Is it not?” You whirl on him. “Are you questioning my ability to speak Basic, huh? Wanna try Jawaese?” 

“No, I just meant–” His huff is accentuated by the modulator in his ever so shiny helmet. “I’m making this worse, aren’t I.”

A smile cracks your facade of impartiality. “A little.”

“I’m sorry.” His head bows ever so slightly.

“It’s okay. I’m giving you a hard time.”

Silence drapes a curtain over the both of you, doting the space static and the air between you even more hot than it already was in the middle of the desert. You study the Mandalorian out of the corner of your eye, wondering if he had some sort of air conditioner underneath all that armor. Maybe the beskar cooled him down. That’d be fucking sick. You note mentally as you start to trek towards your bounty. At least you think you are.

“Do you even know where you’re going?”

You scoff. “Of course I do.”

“Coordinates?”

“I checked already.”

“Check again.”

You do what he says with a grunt. “They moved like .2 miles. Not a big deal.”

“That’s like an extra 40 minutes.”

“My tactics work. Leave me be.”

His helmet tilts towards you, rebounding the light of the sun straight into your eyes. “Mine are fas– oh.”

You wave him off as he tilts his head back to its resting position. “Here,” You slide behind him and to his other side. “All better.”

A nod is the only response you get, and then the silence is ever present again. 

“So,” You burst the bubble this time with almost a gasp of breath. “What do I even call you?”

“Do you need a name?”

“I’d like one, but no. Only if you’re comfortable.”

He’s silent, and you think he won’t answer your question, but then– “Most people call me Mando.”

You shrug. “Works for me.”

Mando. Maaaaaaaando. Mandooooooooo. Mando. Mandoe. Your brain reverberates the newfound information off the walls of your brain, tethering it into your head and every inch of memory that was him. 

There was something so vulnerable about the confession, like some emotion you couldn’t quite place dripping from each word that came out of his mouth. Or whatever he uses to speak, you can’t really tell. You get the impression that he doesn’t really interact with anyone long enough to share anything like a name. It’s an honor, honestly: to have that knowledge.

“Why’re you here?” 

Mando dips his head ever slightly to the side, telling you everything you needed to know.

“Bounty. Got it.”

You nod into the silence, slowly acclimating to it. You curb the desire to ask more questions, taking into account what little information you had about interacting with Mandalorians. 

They didn’t like to talk, and when they did, it was curt and straight to the point. You had just met Mando once before, and he was far from comfortable with you. You respected the lack of words, respected his decision to stay silent.

Jakku’s sun makes its presence known again as it tints the tips of your shoulders red, and you envy the cover Mando has on his own shoulders. Sun cover and maybe an air conditioner? Smart. Soon enough, you’re approaching the bounty’s location and the doom of your situation slaps its dirty hand right in front of you. 

You stop in front of the small town, double checking the fob as you lean into the shade of a building. Mando stands some six feet away from you, statuesque and still. You look up at him, curious as to why he hadn’t departed already. You were no expert on the way he worked— yet— but you had a feeling that he wasn't the type to hesitate.

He’s not moving. And frankly? It’s quite unnerving. You can’t pull the emotions he’s feeling out from underneath the helmet, you can’t analyze the way he’s standing because he’s holding himself with no emotion at all.

All of a sudden, he turns and faces the town, still stuck in the no emotion stance. Your brows furrow as you try to process the abrupt movement. It’s not unnatural, the movement, yet it still ruffles your feathers. What is he doing?

You’ve memorized each thread, every dip of the material in his cape, and he’s still standing there. You could probably tell someone how many inches wide his helmet is, how many dents there are in the shoulder pad on his right shoulder. You’re half through figuring he was dead before the implications of that situation draw you back into the present. You shift from one foot to another, and then start past him. A nod is given to as your steps pull you past.

A grip on your arm has you stopping short, not like you really wanted to go anywhere at all. Despite that fact, your shoulders hunch up in somewhat of a flinch, causing Mando to release your arm as quickly as he had grabbed it. “Wrong arm?” The concern laced in his voice bubbled in your stomach. “No, uh-” You babble. “You’re fine.”

He nods almost absently. 

“Did you need something?” leaves your lips before you can stop it.

“The inn. There,” He points to a slightly dusty sand structure a few buildings down. “That’s where they usually are.”

“How do you know they aren’t in a house or something like that?”

“Out this far? They wouldn’t even try that hard.”

You snort. “I hope you’re right.”

He shrugs.

You turn and take a few steps into the village before you turn back, watching him walk quietly. “Mando?” His cape whips as he comes to face you again. 

You smile, accentuating it with a tip of the head. “Thank you.”

His head tilts in response, and as he turns, you swear you hear him mumble you’re welcome.

You turn around once again, and head into the village. Your smile peels into a grin, and the pep in your step is ever evident as you trek into the hotel lobby. Even as you work to take care of your bounty, happiness strums a happy tune, battles the burn in your calf and the beating of the sun.

Four. 

There are four dents in his shoulder pad on his right shoulder. Two on his left, but who’s counting?

[imhereformr]

I want to spend the rest of my life waking up next to you and [cup] for riven and Musa maybe? If requests are still open

Riven grumbled as he curled into himself, pulling the blanket up to his chest. The bright early morning sun filtered through the window onto his face, waking him far earlier than he’d like. He silently cursed himself for opening the curtains when he’d woken up yesterday morning, and then forgetting to close them before he left.  

It was all Brandon’s fault. He’d called as Riven was stepping out of the shower, reminding him that they had errands to run for Bloom and Sky’s engagement party. Riven had completely forgotten about it, so he hauled ass and rushed out the door.  

The errands took the entire day. It was close to 8pm when they’d dropped everything off at the couple’s apartment. Riven stopped at some dive bar on the way home, letting the rest of the guys go home to their girlfriends and wives. He was sitting at the bar, halfway through his second drink when someone asked if the seat beside him was taken. He told himself he’d imagined it – that voice had only existed in two places for the last seven years: in his dreams and on the radio. He shouldn’t finish the drink. 

“Riven? Can I sit?” she asked again. She was there. She was real. She knew he recognized her voice; she had to. He nodded yes, not trusting his voice.  

Musa sat beside him, looking every bit as beautiful as he remembered. The conversation was forced and awkward. At first. And then someone dropped a drink and Riven made some stupid sarcastic comment that had made her laugh. He loved her laugh. He'd missed her laugh. Soon enough they were joking and talking like they hadn’t been apart all those years.  

Some combination of the alcohol and her presence had made him lose his mind. There’d been a lull in the conversation, and he’d looked at her and said: “I miss you.” 

The shocked expression came and went in the blink of an eye. She looked at her glass, then at the bar while Riven held his breath hoping that he would die on the spot to avoid the discomfort of her saying she’d moved on. It had been years; of course she'd moved on.

He'd looked away. It was too much. He thought of leaving, of excusing himself, dropping a 20 on the counter and fucking off. But then he’d felt her hand slide over his and squeeze. When he’d finally found the courage to look at her, she was making that adorable face she made when she was trying really hard not to cry. “I miss you too” she replied in a whispered tone so low he’d almost missed it. As it was, he'd had to focus really hard to make out the words, giving him only a second to react before her lips were on his.  

The rest of the night was a blur. A quick cab ride where they’d held hands giddily like lovestruck teenagers until Musa’s hand had slid out of his and up his thigh until she was rubbing his leg, stopping just short of groping him; she was teasing him and he was loving it. Once they reached his apartment - the nearer one - she pulled him in like she owned the place. Her lips, her skin, her hands, her voice clouded his mind as they made love and fucked over and over, making up for lost time. They’d cuddled after they were done and Riven fell into the most blissful sleep he’d ever had.  

Now that the morning had come, he was scared to turn around. He didn’t know what daylight and sobriety would bring, and he was so desperate to keep her for as long as he could. What if she regretted last night? What if she told him she was already with someone else? What if she was gone? Losing her was painful enough the first time even if it was necessary; he didn’t think he could bear having been so close and losing her again.  

But then the bed shifted, and he could breathe again. Musa’s arm wrapped around his waist and her lips kissed his back as Musa cuddled up to him. “G’morning” she mumbled sleepily, pushing herself closer to him.  

Riven turned under her arm to face her. He didn’t try to contain the smile on his face as he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer until their every limb was intertwined. Musa sighed happily as she snuggled her face into his chest. “I’ve missed this” she told him.  

“Me too” he whispered, planting a kiss on her head.  

Musa looked up at him, smiling brightly as she met his eyes. He held her gaze, wishing he could stay in that moment forever. When they were younger, Musa had been his safe haven; his shelter when the demons that ravaged his mind became unbearable. She was his biggest supporter; his most loyal confidant; his best friend. He knew he missed her - a lot - but he hadn’t realised how much until he’d looked at her this morning. 

He brought his hand up to brush her hair back, letting it slide down to cup her cheek. Musa leaned into his hand with a warm smile that made him feel like he was eighteen and falling in love again. He lowered his hand to her chin, using it to lift her lips to his.  

"What's got you looking so happy?" Musa teased when they pulled apart. Riven's already wide smile widened more. 

"I wish I could wake up like this every morning" he told her, moving his hand up to brush his thumb along her cheek. 

"Pushed to the edge of your bed because I take up all the space?" 

"With you. Where and how doesn't matter." 

Musa looked at him with twinkling eyes and a bashful smile. She pulled him in for a kiss that made his heart flutter. He lost himself in her; her lips, her eyes, her touch, her voice. She was the most wonderful kind of lost. Where every turn led to an incredible discovery: a new facet of the woman he loved. He would happily wander her forever if she would have him.  

Musa smiled into the kiss before pulling away. “I like the sound of that.”  

[selfless-desires]

continuing from here, — @mcrtyrized , , ,

‏‏‎ ‎

While Steve didn't actually intend to offend his newly made ally, the look in their eyes told him more than enough without needing to improvise— he couldn't specify what exactly went through their mind, he's never been good at reading strangers (especially guys), though one could only assume being called an idiot just minutes after losing a fight didn't sit well with the guy's pride. There was a noticable shift in the atmosphere, the air between the two felt heavier than it has before as the young Harrington chose to stay silent rather than make the situation worse for himself. If he was lucky, Leland wouldn't deck him in the face for all the shit he's spilled in the last minute or two— though they sure as hell looked tempted to do so, even if only for a brief moment.

‏‏‎ ‎

It wouldn't be the first nor the last time Steve has run his mouth in what one could describe mindless fashion, lackin' any sort of filter that might've saved his ass were he wise enough to think before speaking— though, to his surprise, while expectin' a walk on eggshells for the rest of the night, Leland took things… fairly well considering everything. Better than what he would've expected after witnessing the guy sock someone just minutes prior— would've thought he deserved it, too, after how he failed to do anything but make 'em feel worse… or maybe he hasn't. Whatever trace of annoyance there's been on their face was now gone & replaced with a playful smile, their hushed chuckle relieving him of whatever tension he's felt prior.

‏‏‎ ‎

'It's stupid,' those words felt familiar, being one to use them all the same when it came to his own problems— the elbow nudgin' his shoulder earned Steve's attention for a brief moment before he'd glance back to meet their gaze. Chocolate brown eyes searchin' their own while they went on about what brought them here in the first place & once more, Steve couldn't help but feel that maybe they weren't all that different. Asshole parents, he too know what it was like to have your college funds paid for you & expected to bring results— only difference is, Steve's parents have long given up on their son ever being more than what they meant him to be from the moment he was seen in a cradle: a successor of the oil company his family have passed down from father to son for dozens of years.

‏‏‎ ‎

It was when the other chose to lean on his side that Harrington snapped out of whatever trance he's been in, staring at the guy a while too long for it to be appropriate due to a smile he happened to find pretty. Instead of pushing 'em off like most would've in his situation he chose to give them a shoulder to lean on, quite literally, a hand coming around their side to pat them in what could be seen as an (awkward) attempt at comfort. Steve's arm lingered there, the tips of his fingers lightly pickin' at the fabric beneath 'em while he huffed out a hushed comment.

‏‏‎ ‎

" Take it easy, man. " he would say, voice now softened with more room for comfort instead of past grievances. Couldn't help but look over when he felt the weight on his shoulder, too, givin' him an odd sense of comfort he'd choose not to question but enjoy while it lasted. He's learnt just how fast things could end after all, why should the question of why be prioritized instead of the peace he so clearly ached for? Then again, it should've been no surprise it'd end all too soon as Leland chose to move from his side— the wobble in their step & the pained look in their eye more than enough to warrant the flash of worry that painted the young man's visage.

‏‏‎ ‎

‏‏‎ ‎

“ Hey… hey hey hey, HEY–! “ firm hands reached to grasp at the other's frame as Steve moved to stand on his own feet, holding them by their shoulders to ensure they wouldn't topple down on the stairs like they might've if he weren't there for their aid. “ Careful, Jesus– last thing I need is for you to land us in a hospital, ” while one could consider this scolding there was a clear hint of worry within the young man's speech, doe brown eyes searchin' Leland's features as if to assess just how dire their situation were from the seems— should he take the guy to a doctor? Maybe… but first, he needed them to cooperate. How would he achieve that? Well… he's dealt with a whole tribe of kids before— sure enough there'd be a way to bribe some guy to stay, even if it needed some creative thinking.

‏‏‎ ‎

Instead of letting go of 'em Harrington faintly applied weight to their shoulders, give 'em a little encouragement to do the right thing so to speak, not planning on letting go of them without proper medical aid— he's dealt with concussions, got one himself just the year prior, he wasn't about to let them make a mistake that could've been avoided. “ Just… settle down, alright? I’ll bring you something to drink, “ get some sugar in their system, possibly help with the forming ache in their temple— or perhaps quench a thirst they may or may not be aware of at the time being. Whatever the case, Steve wouldn't be rid of quite easily as he didn't give the athlete the time or chance to refuse his 'generousity', even if they considered it.

‏‏‎ ‎

“ What do you crave? Sprite, Pepsi, Fanta… " once he was sure they wouldn't attempt to stand on their own for a second time Steve redirected his focus onto the flight of stairs behind him. One step after another the brunet slowly descended while still keeping an eye on his peer, just to be sure, hands loosely hangin' by his sides while he awaited their answer— he already knew what he'd get for himself, the promise of a cool drink enough to encourage him to move with a faint skip in his step while trying to divide his attention— was a mere miracle he didn't stumble over his own feet just yet, though he wasn't about to jinx a bold statement.

‏‏‎ ‎

[lulamadison]

for @scaperanya who asked for 50 and 115 Lawrusso. Thank you so much for sending me the prompt 😃

50 will follow, but for now here is 115!

Prompt 115 “You weren’t supposed to hear that!”

Class was tense. The kids had been good, but Johnny seemed to be pissed off about something. As soon as the session ended he stamped into the house and slid the door closed behind him with a thump.

The kids filtered out of the garden, talking to each other about their plans for the rest of the weekend, leaving Daniel alone on the decking. He wanted to give Johnny time to calm down, but then he realised Miguel had left his bag behind. He picked it up and headed towards the dojo.

Daniel could hear Johnny inside the small house, muttering to himself angrily. His feet thudding round on the wooden floors, as he walked in a small circle.

“God damn LaRusso,” he said as he paced.

“Always the same damn thing!”

“Wearing those stupid pants!”

Daniel stopped.

Pants? Johnny was annoyed about his pants?

The door opened and Daniel came face to face with Johnny, who stopped in his tracks, his mouth open.

“How long have you been there?” Johnny asked.

“You're annoyed about my pants?” Daniel asked, as he dropped Miguel's bag on the deck. “Is that why you've been off with me all day? Because of what I'm wearing?”

“You shouldn't spy on people,” Johnny snapped, as he barged past Daniel, hitting him with his shoulder.

“I wasn't spying on you,” Daniel said, as he walked after Johnny. “Those doors are really thin.”

“Yeah, well, you weren't supposed to hear that,” Johnny said. “Just forget about it.”

“I'm not going to forget about it, Johnny,” Daniel said. “We need to talk this through because it's plainly not just about the pants. What have I done to upset you?”

“You wore those pants!” Johnny shouted back.

“I don't get the problem,” Daniel said, looking down at himself. “Are they yours? Did I take them by accident?”

“As if my pants would look like that on you,” Johnny said.

“Then what's wrong?” Daniel asked, holding his hands out.

“They're tight!” Johnny shouted.

“I like them tight,” Daniel said, still confused as to what the hell Johnny was so upset about. “They don't get in the way when I'm trying to teach.”

Johnny took a step towards him, then quietly said, “They're really tight and it gets me... They get me all hot, OK!”

“What?” Daniel gasped.

“You're out here, parading about, showing off your ass, every single day!” Johnny shouted. “I'm a man, LaRusso! Of course I'm going to react to that, and don't say you didn't know, because you know!”

“You've been looking at my ass?” Daniel asked.

Johnny stopped. “You didn't know?” he asked, then he nodded, and said, “You didn't know, and now I've blown it.”

“You've been looking at my ass,” Daniel said, as it suddenly dawned on him exactly what Johnny had said.

Ever since his divorce Daniel had thought there was a weird tension going on between him and Johnny, but he'd never quite been able to put his finger on what it was. Well, now he knew, and since Johnny plainly wasn't going to strike first on this one, it was down to Daniel to make a move.

“Do you... like what you see?” Daniel asked.

“What?” Johnny asked.

Daniel turned his back to Johnny, then looked over his shoulder. He playfully said, “Oh look at that, a bottle cap in the grass. I better pick that up.”

Daniel bent forward, knowing his hoodie would rise up and show off his ass perfectly.

Johnny made a sound behind him, then snapped, “Why are you messing with me, man? Isn't it embarrassing enough that you nearly caught me popping a boner in the old man's dojo? Is this punishment for that?”

“You did what?” Daniel asked, snapping back upright.

“Look, I'm gonna go,” Johnny said. “It's bad enough you found out I like you. I'm not gonna stand here and be made to feel like an asshole about it.”

“Wait, Johnny,” Daniel said, as he blocked his path. “You like me?”

“Big shock, huh?” Johnny asked bitterly. “Johnny Lawrence likes to look at other guy's asses sometimes.”

“Will you stop!” Daniel said, still blocking his way.

“Get out of my way, man,” Johnny said, putting his hand on Daniel's shoulder. “I'm going home to drink so much that I forget this day ever happened.”

Daniel grabbed Johnny's head and pulled him into a kiss.

“Holy shit, LaRusso,” Johnny said, pulling back. “What are you doing?”

“What I usually do when people tell they like me and I like them back,” Daniel said with a grin.

Johnny's eyebrows shot up. “You like me?”

“I'm surprised you haven't noticed me checking you out.”

“When?” Johnny asked.

“When you were doing your Miyagi-Do training I sat in a chair and enjoyed the view,” Daniel said with a grin.

“Oh yeah?” Johnny said, as he put a hand around Daniel's back and pulled him closer. “Did you like what you saw?”

Daniel nodded his head. “I can't wait to see what that ass looks like naked on my bed.”

“Um,” Miguel said, as he stood on the deck, cradling the bag he'd left behind in arms. “Maybe I should go.”

“You weren't supposed to hear that!” Daniel shouted.

[autistikmystik]

"Till Death Do Us Part"

“TILL DEATH DO US PART”

A cherry plum glistened in the early morning sun, its sleek and slick purple sides seemingly dripping with dew as the sun starts to take the first slices… The only slices this little fruit will ever feel, because all the hands in the world are cold and lifeless by now, aye cold and lifeless; indeed, the tips of nameless fingers gnawed off as the weeks crept so achingly by. Nameless fingers belonging to nameless palms, and boy you should see this nameless face. The maggots did a fine job I tell ya, boy! A fine job indeed, on making sure the eye sockets were thoroughly fleshed out and that little bit of cartilage that held the nose up, sometimes too far, was long gone. Only dark smudges painted on the front of the skull like some stupid battle face paint.

Was it stupid though?

No one was around to think such things; however, only crows, murders and murders of them… Cats every fuckin’ which way you turn, because “wouldn’ yeh no’id themsh pet-shki pet houshe ratsh be fuckin’ into da’nigh til da shun come hollerin cross the bay”, or so 99 year old African Ms. Jonesie would say if she was still alive. But she was one of the first waves to be taken to Jesus, right in her own bathroom and roont her curtinsh, as a mad’r fack.

Some deer skittered and scattered along with various other birds but mainly in the residential areas there were crows, cats, and packs of wild dogs… And bodies. Millions and millions of rotting and decaying corpses of the people who used to crawl over this planet like fleas hot and heavy with the Bubonic Plague.

Except… it was not the Black Plague that took these people to Heaven.

Nay, it was the branch of government sworn to protect these people, yes…

It was their own military, their own good ole boys, their own guardians that rode in on their hyper teched out tanks and modern whisper-quiet guns and shot everything with two eyes, a heartbeat, and a protest. Well, the pretty eyed ones didn’t die so fast. No, they had to be held down and dumped into before they were forced to meet their maker.

“But WHY?!” They ALL cried out in horror and terror… And they were ALL met with the same answer.

Laughter… And then BANG! Darkness.

The United States Government issued the death warrant of its 340 million habitants through the United States Military. Every single branch of its now totalitarian government was unleashed with absolutely no orders of backing down.

Hell knows no wrath like a scorned king, marked by the deep lines of betrayal by his own people in his face. A pissed off woman who just found out she was pregnant and then left by her pissant baby daddy pales profoundly to the rage the President of the United States felt for his people.

At least, that is what HE perceived. You see, the President also had a boss, believe it or not. He was invisible, HIGHLY classified, HIGHLY dangerous, but every fucking where on the god damn planet… Yet his boss had not ONE cell of his being toeing around ANY rock or drinking ANY filtered water here on this planet.

He wasn’t stupid, not like they were but he wasn’t gonna tell them that. He wasn’t gonna tell anyone that because then maybe one of them might get smart and cut off communication with him and he desperately needed someone on the other side to keep good tabs on everything.

Soon, he thought. Soon the end will be here, and everything will be okay.

But absolutely NONE of that shit matters anymore because now, 6 weeks to be exact from the first bullet shot, every single person has died, either out of starvation or salvation or revelation, you take your pick, now.

All those ideas of a New Age and thoughts on hope and hopes on thought and dreams of a better day and even those got damn terrors that made those punk ass little kids piss the bed were gone…

Dead…

Dead with a dead country.

[magical-awesome-kid]

When we were born, it was instinct. My mother had shown me, her precious toddler, the new baby, and I had, well, cried. It wasn’t until years later that I figured out why all of my adoration for having a sibling had turned to sadness and contempt.

Then again, I did my best. I did love him, but there was always that, as my father had joked, “Cain Instinct” between us two. One moment we’d be playing nicely together, the next I’d be ripping off his Barbie’s head while he threw paint on my favorite shirt. A fight breaking out over, of all things, which color was the best.

It was petty. Far pettier than anything we’d fought over in previous lives. Wars had broken out, battles to the death. In times past, when magic still existed openly in the world, we’d have gone to the ends of the earths to end one another.

Now? We were two kids, siblings, growing up alongside one another in 21st century Suburban America. Our parents the same middle class, white collar workers who had somehow pushed out two children so similar and yet so different.

And yet… even as we bickered and fought, he was still my brother, and that something had put a new spin on this lifetimes-long grudge.

He could be mean and cruel, but, being behind the scene as I was, I could clearly see why he performed his actions. He stood up to bullies, much as I did myself, but, in the past, it had always seemed that he only did so out of malice.

“That guy reminded me of Bolton.” He swore as he picked at his bandaged knuckles. They’d been called to the principal’s office after her brother had gotten into a fight, and I’d been summoned as I’d gotten involved in pulling the idiots apart at the end (not for the brother’s sake, I claim).

“Bolton?” I repeated back. “That fellow from… gosh, that was three deaths ago.” I muttered, trying to remember all the details. “That king. You killed him and seized his kingdom.” The memories trickled back in. A branch family had then contacted her - then a he - to defeat her enemy once more.

“Yeah, bastard. Stole from his own people and forced slavery on those who couldn’t afford his stupid tariffs. Had an underground ring for Fae Fights and Trades.” The boy’s voice dropped with so much malice, far too much for a child of ten. “It was the first thing I got rid of.”

I jumped, balking at such a thing. “Seriously? But, you drove so many people from their homes!”

“Just the ones who were involved.” He picked his bandages again. “You ever wonder why I spared so many children?”

I blinked, thinking back to that debacle. It had sparked another war between the two. “I didn’t know.”

He looked back at me. “Would it have changed anything?”

“Yeah.” I looked back. “I would have killed that guy first.”

Our parents came out, and the conversation was dropped.

It would be small conversations like this through the years, as memories of past lives filtered in with memories of this new life. It was an age of peace compared to where that had been for centuries, and the most they fought was with fists. Still, their small bodies retained power of old, and it took a lot more - as per the usual - to kill one another.

“Why in the hell would you kick him?!?” My brother ranted as he dragged me out of the restaurant. It had just been cruel fate that our two groups had converged upon there.

“He was being a racist bitch!” I swore back, trying to get out of his hold. We were now teenagers, and he was swiftly catching up to me in pure bulk. “Let me go finish his ass! I killed that bastard demon king for the same thing!”

“What?” His arms fell slack. “The demon king was a fair man! YOU were racist!”

“Uh, wrong!” I spun on him. “The only reason I even worked with the stupid church was to A) usurp that bastard of a pope, and B) because he was systematically killing the demi-demon clans.” I paused. “Wait, you didn’t know?”

“No!” He threw up his arms. “My mother was half-demon, and she was killed by the church! It’s why I hated them so much!”

“And, again, see point A.” I replied. We stared at one another. “So… can I go back?”

“Depends.” My enemy, my brother, responded. “What did he do?”

It turned out that he was more sly than my, granted, knee-jerk response. Once he learned that the bastard in his group had pulled on my girl’s head wrap after we had TRIED to ignore his racist, homophobic, and sexist remarks, well, he got the tongue lashing of his life. Kid had to transfer schools after as no one wanted to touch that bag of shit. I had, of course, anonymously spread to the guy’s new school his lack of manners, so he had to deal with that as well.

Then, once he was out of our immediate area, we went back to the normal. Our parents had thought us grown out of the petty fights, but we never did. Granted, getting into two different colleges known to have sports and academic rivalries didn’t help.

(Compared to fights past, though, it was much more civil, and, really, we had little to truly fight over after so many years. Collegiate squabbles was hardly worth wars, and, when we forgot about such things, we were quite close.)

(And, maybe, when my brother had grown scared of coming out to our parents as gay, I’d shown up with a girlfriend just to break the ice.)

(And, when, a boyfriend of mine had tried to isolate and abuse me, he’d show up with another fight just so that, when I’d realized how toxic this relationship had become, I’d know that I’d fought harder to defeat demon lords and holy knights - what was one idiot Chad?)

“I will loathe you until our deaths.” I promised as I straightened his tie. “And this color is horrendous. What does Nathan even see in you?”

“I am a GEM, you whore!” He slapped my hands away. “And why are you even back here?”

“I am your greatest enemy, and, more importantly, your sister. You looked two seconds from pulling a Triton and running.”

“It was a tactical retreat, and you know it!” He threw back. He then followed with a murmur of “thanks.”

I just smiled. “No problem, little brother.” After a moment, I offered open arms. “Would you like a hug? I can try to squeeze you until the pressure pops.”

“Uhg. Fine, one awkward sibling hug.” He agreed, begrudgingly, before he entered my embrace.

It wasn’t really awkward, as it had been the first few times our parents had made us “hug it out.” It had grown natural over the years as we two enemies learned that maybe, just maybe, there was more to the other person than what we had known for centuries.

We would always be each other’s worst enemies - more because if anyone else tried to steal said title, they’d be met on two fronts - but we were also siblings who loved one another. Keeping your friends close and enemies closer, and all of that.

“The color is still ugly.”

“Oh, fuck off!”

Much like there are reincarnated lovers, there are reincarnated enemies. This pair, however, has a problem this time around. They reincarnate as siblings this time.