#what are you meant to do in this situation. what. what do you do. what is the protocol

[evie-sturns]

avoid - Matt Sturniolo

summary: when matt calls you out on you pushing him away, until a huge fight breaks out between the two of you. a couple hours later you find him a mess, you have no choice but to make things right.

contains: angst, crying, arguing, yelling, fluff, comforting, swearing.

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you didn't realise you were doing it, you just were.

you had accidentally been avoiding him and pushing him away for the past couple of weeks, there wasn't a specific reason but you just were.

9:04pm

i'm laying on the couch alone, watching some random romcom as i stare at the screen.

the floorboards creak as i hear matt coming down the hallway, his footsteps are heavy as he approaches the living room.

he stands in the doorway, just observing me for a couple of seconds.

i hear his lips part as he gets ready to speak.

"y/n..?" he mutters softly, his voice is weak and shy.

i hum quietly as a response, not even diverting my gaze away from the bright screen. i hear matt huff slightly, a hint of annoyance in his tone.

"what- why- can you at least look at me when im speaking?" matt scoffs.

"what difference does it make?" i mumble back, still staring at the television.

"makes me think you might actually give a shit about me still." matt spits, his arms fold over his chest as he leans against the doorway,

"pfft." i dismiss him which only sets matt off even more.

"why are you acting like this? seriously!" matt exclaims,

"why are you being so sensitive." i groan,

i know i’m being annoying as shit, but i can’t help it, i’m just doing what i can to tick him off.

matt just stares at me, his breathing heavy as i see him visibly start fuming.

“you wanna know what it is? you’ve been acting like a total stranger for the past couple months and i’m done with it, i’m done with you.” matt raises his voice

i stand up off the couch, standing a couple feet away from matt as i lock eyes with him,

“me? i’ve been acting like i stranger?” i laugh dryly, not cause this situation is amusing, i’m just in shock.

“yes! you’ve been treating me like crap for the past too long!” matt keeps his voice raises,

i point my finger at his chest as i walk closer to him, “you cannot be serious? i literally do everything for you? i gave up so many things for more time with you!”

“i didn’t ASK you to do that! nobody did!” he scoffs loudly, grabbing my wrist and yanking it away from his chest.

“so it meant nothing to you? clearly you’re not appreciating my love for y-“

matt cuts me off,

“don’t even. you’re trying to make me feel bad when i’m literally trying to talk to you about my feelings!”

his eyes are narrow slits now, his fingers wrapped tightly around my wrist.

“let me go, now.” i mutter angrily,

“just listen to me!” he spits, moving his hand off of my wrist to grab my shoulders,

he jolts me back and forth harshly,

“i fucking hate this new attitude of yours, you’re the most self centred bitch ever!” matt shouts,

his voice booms through my living room, making my heart race quicken.

“would you just shut up- shut up!” i scream,

matt shoves me back gently, not enough to actually hurt me, just enough to get his point enough.

“you’re just- you’re just being ridiculous?” matt mutters, turning on his heels and walking away from me.

“i fucking hate you! i hope you get that through your thick head!” i snap

i didn’t mean it.

not at all.

i was so angry, just doing anything i could to be mean.

i hear matt’s heavy footsteps as he walks up the stairs, followed by the door slamming shut.

i flop down on the couch, running a hand through my hair as i pant.

i don’t know why i said any of that.

(35 minutes later)

i’ve just been thinking for the past half hour, about things i shouldn’t have said, things i shouldn’t of done.

i’ve held back all my emotions, feeling somewhat numb, except for the intense feeling of guilt gnawing away at me

the whole house has been eerily silent, usually it would be filled with matt and i’s endless giggles, but it’s not.

i stand up off the couch, my legs somewhat wobbly and my stomach churning with immense guilt.

i need to talk to him,

i drag my feet over to the bottom of the stairwell, knowing matt’s at the top of the stairs, locked away in our bedroom.

one step,

after another,

i slowly walk up the stairs.

my heart pounds against my rib cage, not knowing what matt would say, nor think, when he saw me in the doorway,

the same person that just screamed at him, making him believe that i hated him.

i reach his door, my hand stalling on the doorknob as i let out a soft sigh.

i couldn’t bring myself to just twist the doorknob, my hand was lightly shaking.

i swallow harshly before twisting the knob,

i stand in the doorway, looking around the dimly lit room.

there’s a discomforting feeling in the air, the room is cold.

my eyes search around the room until they land on matt.

he’s laying down on the bed, his back facing me and his still.

is he asleep?

“matt..?” i call out quietly, my voice breaking.

i walk over to the bed, my footsteps light.

suddenly i hear him,

a choked sob escapes him.

he’s crying?

i made him cry,

matt’s never cried infront of me before

and i’m the reason he now has.

“baby- are you crying-?” i whisper, reaching down and brushing his hair away from his eyes. he shivers at my touch, rolling over so his face is buried in the pillow.

i quickly crawl into bed beside him.

“please- please don’t cry-“ i mutter, my tone is panicked as i reach for him.

i sit up against the headboard as he stays buried in the pillows beside me, letting out strangled sobs.

“please look at me- darling i am so sorry, seriously.” i speak softly, my voice just loud enough so it’s audible to him

“matt, look at me please.” i say, my tone shaky as my voice cracks again.

he gently lifts his face from the pillows,

i take the opportunity to grab him, and tug him to sit up beside me.

i run my hands through his messy hair, he looks like a wreck, i feel terrible.

his eyes are swollen, his lips are a deep red and puffy and tears roll down his pale cheeks.

i grab his hands, “matt,” i sigh, “y-you’re killing me.”

matt stares down at the bed, “can- can i have a hug?” he whispers with a small hiccup.

“of course you can have a hug.” i sigh, wrapping my arms around him and pulling his body flush against mine.

i hold him close to me as i lay down on the bed, his head buried in my chest.

he sniffs shakily as he just cries, letting everything out.

i can still feel the undeniable tension in the air,

we’re both so angry at eachother still, it’s hard not to be after argument like that.

“hey, it’ll be okay- we’ll be okay.” i whisper, running my fingers through his locks of hair.

he lets out another sob against me, the noise making my heart break.

“you’re gonna make me cry.” i whisper with a small sigh, holding the back of his head gently.

“sorry.” he sniffles.

i hold him in my arms, whispering small words of affirmation while matt slowly starts to calm down.

i fight back the tears in my eyes as i attempt to stay strong for him.

“could we- talk maybe?” matt sniffs, wiping his eyes on my shirt before slowly lifting himself away from me.

he sits up on the headboard beside me, his legs outstretched and his hands still gently shaking.

“i think we need to.” i nod,

we both sit in silence for a second, waiting for one person to start.

“i know i was-“ i start but matt interrupts me,

“can i go first- i just want to tell you… how i’ve been feeling.” he rambles, his voice cracking.

i nod, “yeah..”

matt starts,

“i mean it when i say you’ve been stupidly distant for the past months, everytime i try to initiate anything with you, i just get brushed off, all of our conversations are shallow and i can’t tell if you actually care about me anymore!”

i stare at him as he rambles, trying to take all of his words to heart without getting mad again.

“i love you so much, and it’s hurting me to see you slowly drift away from me, i just want to know what i did wrong..?” he follows on, swallowing harshly,

i nod slightly, my lips parting to speak but no words coming out.

“i’m not trying to push you away matt.” i whisper,

he goes to speak but i interrupt, “i think it’s just a mix of everything, i’m just so exhausted with work after half my coworkers quit, i’ve been working long hours and i don’t mean to push you away, i swear.” i ramble on,

matt nods slightly with understanding, his hands fidgeting in his lap.

“i love you so much matt, and i’m trying to do better, i promise.” i finish,

matt just looks at me, before finally nodding.

he lets out a breath, one that i can tell took a weight off his shoulders.

“i’m sorry about the argument.” matt says,

i shake my head, “no i was being a pain on purpose, it could’ve been avoided if i acted differently.”

“i came at you with like a confronting tone- i should’ve approached it better.” he speaks,

“and i also shouldn’t have laid my hands on you, i didn’t mean for it to ever get physical..” matt whispers, his eyebrows furrowing as he breaks eye contact with me,

“it’s okay, i needed it-“ i try to defend his actions but he cuts me off,

“no- no that was a shitty thing for me to do, i feel super guilty about it.” he sighs,

the room goes silent, my heart aches as i try to apologise for that one thing i said, the 3 words that exited my mouth, which is now eating me alive.

“i’m sorry- for saying i hate you.. i- i don’t i swear, it wasn’t true at all i was just saying it to make you mad- i promise, i love you more than life itself.” i spit it out.

matt’s gaze softens,

my eyes well up with tears, “i shouldn’t have said that, i’m so sorry-“ i whisper out,

matt reaches his hands up to my face, his hands caressing my cheeks and his thumbs wipe my eyes quickly.

“no tears.” he gently coos,

“i’m so sorry- i fucked up so bad-“ i continue, but matt cuts me off.

he presses his lips to mine, his hands still firmly on the sides of my face.

he rolls us over so he’s ontop of me, keeping our lips connected.

i kiss back, distracting myself from the swirling thoughts in my head.

after a few moments he pulls away from my lips with a small ‘pop’.

a warm smile appears on his face as he peppers kisses all over my face.

i squirm with a giggle as his pecks kisses all over me, before pressing a final peck to my lips.

“we’ll always talk things out next time, i promise this won’t happen again.” he whispers comfortingly, his hands gently running through my hair.

i nod in agreement, “i love you.”

“love you too sweetie.” he whispers, before going back to peppering kisses all over my face.

-

@sturnsdoll @obvisturns @stupid4sturniolo @meerkatzthings @witchofthehour @rosalierenee43 @gabrielle-brun1 @ilovemymannnnnnnn @sturnioloxlver @buckys-goodgirl @sturniol0s @ilovemymannnnnnnn @chr1sgirl4life @luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl girl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney @lovingchrissposts @333michelle @h3arts4harry @jamiesturniolo o @chrisstopherfilmed @ @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @ev3rgreenxtrees @certifiednatelover er @solarsturniolo lo @mattsenthusiast t @yomamaslays4lyfe @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc @mattscoquette @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 @bitchydragonparadise @sturni0l0tripletzz @ratatioulle @sturnsfav @mattsonlybitch @justalittle47 @sunsetsturniolos

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[chryso-poeia]

Being human is simple if you strip away the inhuman systems, the bureacracy, the trauma that the programmed, wounded and misled perpetuate. (Hence kindness or protecting one’s energy). Being human happens without your conscious participation, you could not beat your own heart, digest your food etc. Hence ”human being” and not ”human doing”. Your body orients you, not the programming. Ground yourself, become present, it’s all here right now, the wonder of it. If you really pay attention.

People are either motivated by an avoidance of pain or a seeking of pleasure. Pain is fear, without pain, no pleasure. Without your palm, no dorsum. Everything exists in a complementary relationship to everything else. Night follows day. Everything is a derivative of fear or love. But it all leads back to love, in the end. Spiritually, this is transcendence of duality.

So i believe that, that which causes life to thrive, or a flower to bloom: is love, which is acceptance, which is compassion, which is nourishment, it allows. So i will be kind and playful in my eternal love, nothing else worked. The mind is designed to be as convincing as possible, hence it reaffirms our sense of reality. But there is something called as healthy functioning and coping, not meant as judgement but rather compassion. This can clear your mind.

Here’s a few of the most effective grounding exercises for a traumatized nervous system, that i’ve found:

• 5-4-3-2-1 Grounding Exercise.

• Progressive muscle relaxation.

• Breath awareness (esp in highly emotional situations): Allow the breath simply arise, don’t try to control it, just let your attention ride on it, become breathed, like a tree.

• EFT.

Misc:

• Follow your excitement in every situation.

• Think about who you are without all your negative convictions. Instead of thinking that you chose think a thought, observe the feeling is triggers in your body. Feel the fear/anxiety and just breathe deeply. Don’t engage in the mind conversation, just breathe deeply. If you start engaging in the convo again, gently back to the breath. Remember: your mind is convincing for a reason, because a lot of thoughts: require your participation to survive. It can help to repeat:

”This negative response is how my body-mind has been programmed to think it must respond. Because it replays the past, i choose to learn from the past and accept myself, in order to move on. I choose to invite love. So i choose to believe that i don’t have to respond that way. Divine, i don’t know how it’s possible but with your infinite intelligence, all things are possible.”

Spiritual Practice:

• Aum chanting, 16-108 rounds.

• Hare Krishna chanting.

• Tibetan Tummo Yoga. (Very physically intense, somatic effect).

• ”Breath Of Fire” Pranyama, breating exercise (CAUTION: Please research how to do this one correctly, faulty practice can damage your lungs. Hence it’s also therefore incredibly potent.)

• Hoponopono.

Natural Processes:

• Full body crying. (Crying is a mechanism that releases tensions and trauma from the body).

• Ruthlessly honest journaling. Write down everything that has ever happened to you. (ChatGPT can be a wonderful tool here, just temper the amount of detail you provide)

• Exercise, 30min at a minimum, daily walk. Preferably in nature.

-

Above all, whatever we resist, persists. So things like journaling can often be the most cathartic and effective practice, each time. The idea is that if it is not expressed, it is harbored within. But once expressed, it becomes external. At which point, one can notice how there is a separation of ’what happened’ and ’who i am’.

chronic fatigue from mental illness and neurodivergency isn't something you can just will your way out of. your nervous system is part of your body. your brain is an organ. the fatigue is real. you're not lazy. so be kinder to yourself. be gentler with your bodymind.

[dailymanners]

Tips and ideas for how to respond when someone is being rude to you

For personal reasons I won't get into, I have a history of just freezing when some is rude / hostile / aggressive / condescending / patronizing / etc. It's obviously not something I'm happy about at all, most people who freeze or fawn aren't happy about it and would change it if they could.

One day I confided in my co-worker, a middle aged woman in her 50's, that this is something I struggle with. Considering how confident and assertive she always struck me as, I was shocked when she told me this is also something she's struggled with.

The advice she gave me is to just memorize and practice a few broad statements or reactions that you can pull out of your pocket so to speak when someone is being rude or disrespectful to you. It's not easy if you're someone who's been conditioned to freeze or fawn, but practice helps. Practice saying these things when you're alone. Put up a sticky note next to your bed or on your bathroom mirror with these phrases and practice them when you see them. Practice saying these with a partner or trusted friend, role-play scenarios where you might need to use these phrases.

Here's a few phrases that have worked for me. The nice thing about them is that they tend to shut down the situation rather than escalating, while still letting the aggressor know that you don't find their behavior acceptable.

"Are you okay?"

This works well in professional settings, because it's not like your work place's residential bully can run to HR about you asking if they're okay (but they might if you try to retaliate and give them a taste of their own medicine). However, it still effectively sends the message "I think there's something wrong with your behavior and don't accept it". It's also not likely the response they're expecting, so it'll likely throw them off and prevent further verbal aggression.

"Could you repeat that for me? I didn't catch what you said."

This one is most effective for people you believe to actually have a conscious and might regret what they said if they actually thought about it a little more. I find that often when I do this one, when people repeat the rude/snippy/patronizing/etc thing they either shamefully stumble over their words and show some remorse, or they change altogether what they say. In the off chance they don't regret what they said and end up repeating exactly what they said, this at least buys you some time to think of a better reaction since you're no longer caught off guard by a sudden rude and snippy remark.

"Can you explain what you mean by that?"

Similar logic to the last one. Often when people are being rude/snippy/patronizing/etc they're caught up in their own emotions in that moment and didn't think it through. This is a polite and civil way of putting their rude behavior in the spotlight and making them reconsider what they said. The other advantage to this one is that in case you did misread their intentions and they meant no harm by what they said or did, this gives them an opportunity to clarify that, instead of you just feeling bad over a statement or actions they actually had no ill intentions with.

If anyone has any further examples of reactions / responses / statements that have worked for them, I'd love to hear about them. I'm new to studying the art of how to civilly yet effectively shut down bad behavior from others, so I'm always open to hearing more suggestions.

[nanenna]

Jeez Louise This is a Mess

Sleepy King (Nenna edition) Master Post

Apologies in advance, I'm not very familiar with John Constantine, trying to do anything from his perspective is definitely an unwise decision. I have chosen it anyway. He's almost definitely OOC.

---

John watched the Fentons and the mayor just saunter through the brand new hole in the mayor’s wall like this was just a normal Friday for them. Considering how weird the town was as a whole, it probably was. And he meant that by the old meaning of the word and as literal as one could possibly interpret it. He’d never been anywhere where the veil was so thin over such a large area, with æther so thick in the air of course it was affecting the locals. Probably had something to do with whoever or whatever had cloaked the whole town.

John turned to Tall Dark and Broody, “So, what happened to all the bugs and trackers you put on them originally?”

Batsy frowned, “Danny’s are still in the Fenton residence, expected since he clearly changed his clothes. His parents’ trackers and bugs all went offline not long after arriving home, the ones I placed inside the residence are malfunctioning.”

“And that’s not the least bit suspicious?” John asked.

“It’s incredibly suspicious,” Batsy said with a completely straight face before turning and also walking right out the brand new hole. “I suggest you actually use the comm I gave you earlier, they’re explaining the situation to Masters.”

Unfortunately Mr. Gargles Gravel for Breakfast had a point, John sighed and did put in the comm, though he knew it would be spotty with the use of magic to follow the group. Batsy and Wonder Woman could follow however they liked, John did not have the energy for that.

The comms were staticky, cutting in and out even without John’s abuse of the thin veil to quick step around town. Not surprising, the amount of pure death magic radiating off the two dead-alive people in that tank would be enough to mess with most electronics even if the veil weren’t practically non-existent.

“Somehow this place feels cozy,” Boston commented as he followed John.

“You would think so.”

The conversation on the comm was getting worse, the bugs were clearly slowly giving up the ghost. John only caught a few words here and there, and those were only because they were Ghost Speak, something that shouldn’t be possible for flesh and blood mouths to speak. It’s just bits and pieces, names and titles mostly, but if he’s understanding this right…

“Huh, that may change the situation a bit.”

“What are you going on about?” Boston asked.

“It sounds like Pariah isn’t the Ghost King anymore. But Batsy’s bugs are losing the war against æther, so when we get there you’re gonna need to go spy on them.”

“Will that work?”

“Try to keep out of sight, but even if you get caught the worst they’ll do is kick you out. Undead solidarity.”

Boston grumbled, but when John met back up with Batsy and Wonder Woman staring through a window right to where the group was talking, Boston did as he was asked and slipped right through the wall and inside. John cast a quick spell to spy through Boston.

Boston floated slowly into the room, seemingly becoming braver as the Fentons looked right past him without reacting. Unfortunately, he got a little too close to the one person in the room that could definitely see him. The kid jumped out of his seat in surprise.

“Don't sneak up on me like that!” The kid whined as he picked himself up off the floor. Then he froze, eyes glaring at Boston. “How did you sneak up on me? You didn't activate my ghost sense at all.”

“Oh, you can see me? And ghost sense?”

“You don't know who I am?”

“Uh… Daniel Fenton?”

“Well yes, but ghosts don't usually call me that.”

“Then what do they call you?”

“How about you tell me your name first?”

“I’m Deadman.”

The kid burst into laughter. “Are you for real?”

“Danny, is it Youngblood?” The sister asked.

“Huh?” The kid looked to his older sister, then back to Boston. He gestured, “You can't see him?”

The Fentons all shook their heads.

The creepy mayor came back into the room holding a cardboard box, knocking a thin layer of dust from the top. “Here it is!” He looked up and frowned. “Who are you, and why are you in my home?”

“I’m Deadman and I’m uh… lost?”

“He didn't set off my ghost sense,” the kid added. He turned back to Boston, “Are you even a ghost?”

Batman, who’d spent the last few minutes getting into the perfect position while he waited for the most dramatic moment chose then to crash through the window. John started cursing as he rushed to climb in after the loon, already prepping a spell. The moment he had a clear line of sight he shot off the revelation spell at the kid.

It did… well not much.

Really about all it did was give the kid a couple extra accessories. He expected them, but he also expected it to somehow reveal the kid’s undead status too. Make him look all glowy and ghostly like he had when he’d first arrived last night, because John was pretty sure the kid hadn’t been kidnapped after all. Or at least not how they originally assumed, he was pretty sure some spirits considered an unwilling summons a kidnapping.

Still, there the crown was. Just floating over the kid’s head, toxic green æther flames around it like a death energy aurora. And like any teenager the kid seemed completely oblivious, having to be told the crown was even there. Once he got a hand on it though he said something odd, “Okay, crown retrieved.”

John just tucked his hands in his pockets, waiting to see what they were doing. Why did they think they needed to find the crown?

“We may have a problem,” The creepy mayor said as he pulled an identical crown from his cardboard box.

“What.” The kid looked back and forth between the crown in his hand and the one in the creeper’s. “Why are there two?”

And, well, John agreed. Why the fuck were there two? He already started muttering an identification spell as the kid turned to him.

“What did you do?!”

“I didn't do anything,” John protested, “that was purely an identification spell, it can't duplicate things!”

“Well clearly you did something wrong,” The kid’s mom said while glaring at the him.

Of course things got dicey after that, the kid and the creepy mayor got into a fight over the second crown, things turned into a right mess, and John was quite content to let them squabble among themselves. He moved to go stand next to Batsy and Wonder Woman, Boston with him, waiting to see how this went.

Of course the tussle then turned into fighting over the ring on the kid’s finger, still blaming John for just revealing the crown and ring the kid had apparently had this whole time.

“Alright, that’s enough. Shut up!” John may have put a bit of intent into that, and it worked beautifully. The whole group stopped and stared at him, finally shutting up. The parents managed to get between the kid and the creeper, each one still with one of the crowns.

The crowns he now knew were both, somehow, legitimate.

John pointed at the kid, “Just call the crown, it’ll listen.”

The kid gave him a disbelieving look. “Oh sure, I’ll just,” he hunched forward a little bit, clapped his hands, and whistled like he was calling a dog, “here Crowny, Crowny, Crowny.”

For a brief moment nothing happened, then the creeper mayor jerked forward as the crown yanked itself from his hand. It went to go join the other crown floating over the kid’s head, one of them grew wider so the other could nestle inside it, both spinning in place but in opposite directions.

Everyone was staring at the display.

“What uh… what are they doing?” The kid asked nervously.

“They… like each other?” The sister asked skeptically.

“Great, wonderful, fabulous, just what I need in my life.” The kid sighed and turned to glare at John. “What. Did. You. DO?!”

“I didn’t do shit,” John replied, much to the parents’ combined horror. “Looks like somehow they’re both legit, my best guess is one of them isn’t from this timeline.”

“Oh,” the sister said, grabbing everyone’s attention. “The Nasty Burger explosion happened after the fight with the king, right?”

“The what?” the kid’s parents asked.

“Oh,” the kid responded, “I’m starting to see why the council of eyeballs hates my guts.”

And wasn’t that a concerning sentence. John desperately needed a drink, thankfully he had a flask on him and chose that moment to take a swig. “Alright, so there should be a second ring too, no point leaving that on Dark’s finger in case he gets out again.”

“Vlad did it,” the kid said while pointing at the creeper.

“Excuse me!” Creeper actually put a hand to his neck, like some fainting Victorian lady.

“Vlad tried to steal the ring and crown, so he let Dark out of the sarcophagus and I had to go clean up his mess, like always.” The kid glared at the creeper, it was starting to paint a really concerning picture.

“I’m sure Vladdie was just trying to keep these powerful artifacts safe,” the kid’s dad said loudly and happily. Yeah, there was the concerning picture again.

“I’d believe it if all he took was the ring, but the crown was safely sealed away with Pariah and he let the guy out to steal it.”

“Just call the ring,” John said gruffly.

“Here Ragey, Ragey, Ragey.” The kid whistled and clapped his hands again. The ring showing up on the kid’s other hand was expected, the glowing green hell hound that came sprinting through the wall and practically tackled the kid wasn’t. “Cujo! Hi! Who’s a good puppy?!”

Keeriest, John needed a stiffer drink.

[goblin-jr]

And then i go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like i love you. 

Part 8 of 12

Synopsis: the immediate aftermath of the kiss, late night shenanigans, and new alliances

Pairing: unrequited JJ x Reader, Eventual Rafe x Reader

masterlist

—------

The street light cast a warm, soft glow around them, flickering ever so slightly in the cool night air. Y/N and Rafe stood there, suspended in time, the quiet stretch of seconds between them heavier than anything they’d shared before. The world seemed muted, as if the night was holding its breath, waiting for either of them to speak.

Y/N could feel her heart still racing, the lingering sensation of Rafe’s lips on hers making her skin hum. She wanted to say something, anything, to fill the space between them, but her throat felt dry, her words caught somewhere in the back of her mind. The moment was so raw, so new, and she didn’t know how to process it. She took a small step back, not because she wanted to distance herself, but because she was trying to figure out how to exist in this newfound space between them.

Her hands fidgeted with the sleeve of her jacket, and she found herself looking down, avoiding his gaze, feeling the warmth of her cheeks spreading, though she couldn’t tell if it was the night air or the kiss that made her blush.

“That... that happened,” Y/N finally said, the words coming out more softly than she intended, like she was still trying to convince herself that the kiss hadn’t been some wild figment of her imagination.

Rafe’s chuckle broke the quiet, but it was light—genuine. His lips quirked into a small, almost bashful smile. “Yeah, it did.” His voice was still a little deeper than usual, with the weight of the moment hanging between them.

For a second, neither of them spoke, the only sound was the soft rustle of the wind through the trees. Rafe shifted slightly, his hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his jacket, his gaze still locked on her. His eyes were different now, softer. There was something almost vulnerable in them, like he was unsure of what to do next, but couldn’t look away.

Y/N bit her lip, glancing at him and then quickly looking away again. The stillness between them felt both comforting and unsettling. She wasn’t sure what was happening—this wasn’t just a kiss. It felt like a step forward, but a step into something unknown, something she wasn’t sure she was ready for.

But there was something about the way Rafe was looking at her. Something about the way his chest was rising and falling, his expression a mix of bashfulness and awe, as if he didn’t know what to do with all of this either. His usual confident swagger was gone, replaced by a quiet uncertainty that made him seem... different. Real.

“Do you want to forget about all this for a while?” Rafe asked, his voice hesitant but sincere, as though he was testing the waters. His gaze softened, and a mischievous grin tugged at the corners of his lips.

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, her breath catching slightly. The weight of the situation—the kiss, the emotions—felt so heavy, and she realized she didn’t want to deal with it just yet. She didn’t want to overthink it. She didn’t want the pressure of figuring out what it all meant. All she wanted was to be with him at this moment, free of expectations.

She nodded quickly, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Yes. God, yes.” The words felt like a release, a relief. The tension in her shoulders melted, the anxiety from moments ago slipping away.

Rafe’s grin widened, that familiar spark of spontaneity lighting up his eyes again. She could see it—this shift in him, from the uncertainty of the kiss to this playful energy, the one that made him seem like he was always looking for the next adventure. It was a side of him she hadn’t seen in a while, not with her. She felt a little lighter already, and the heaviness in her chest—caused by the kiss, by the new feelings she didn’t quite understand—started to fade.

“Good,” he said, his voice warmer now, like he was pleased she’d agreed. “Let’s forget about it all for a bit.” He looked around the country club parking lot, and then, with a sudden burst of energy, he stepped off, walking toward his car. “You’re coming with me, right?”

Y/N hesitated for a moment. Her heart still fluttered from the kiss, but she didn’t need to think twice. She needed this—to forget, to just enjoy the night and not think about the complexity of it all. She followed him, feeling that familiar sense of adventure in her chest, and smiled to herself as she caught up with him.

“Of course,” she said, her voice steady. She had no idea where they were going, but she didn’t care. They were together. That was enough for now.

–

The engine of Rafe’s car hummed as it rolled down the quiet streets, the late-night air rushing through the open windows. The moon cast a soft glow on the road ahead, and the distant sounds of waves crashing along the shore mingled with the thrum of the music blasting from the speakers. Inside the car, the weight of the night—of everything that had happened between them—still lingered, but it wasn’t as heavy anymore.

Y/N leaned back in the passenger seat, her eyes flicking from the road ahead to Rafe. She hadn’t expected this. She hadn’t expected him to be so... carefree, so willing to throw everything aside and just be in the moment with her. He wasn’t the same Rafe she’d known before—the one who was always wrapped up in his family’s expectations and his own dark world. There was something different about him tonight.

Rafe glanced over at her, his eyes catching hers for a brief moment, and then his lips curled into a playful grin. “You know,” he said, his voice louder to be heard over the music, “this is exactly what we need. No expectations. No plans. Just... fun. What do you say?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, the corners of her mouth curving upward. She was still processing everything, but the thought of simply enjoying the night, of not overthinking things, felt like a relief. It felt like a chance to breathe.

“Yeah, I’m in,” she replied, her voice lighter than it had been earlier. “Let’s just do something crazy.”

Rafe’s eyes lit up with mischief. “That’s the spirit,” he said, turning his attention back to the road. “Okay, let’s see how much trouble we can get into tonight.”

She had been so caught up in everything that she hadn’t even thought about how cold it had gotten. The night air was crisp, and she shivered slightly in her bikini from the events earlier in the night. As they drove, she noticed Rafe’s hoodie hanging on the back of the passenger seat, and without a word, she grabbed it and slipped it on over her shoulders. It was a little too big, and the sleeves hung down past her hands, but it felt warm and comforting against her skin.

As they drove through the streets, Rafe began to do what he did best: mess around. He started pulling faces in the rearview mirror, his eyes wide and exaggerated, his tongue sticking out, making ridiculous noises to make Y/N laugh. She couldn’t help it; her laugh bubbled up, loud and unrestrained, filling the car as they sped down the road. The sound felt freeing—her usual self-consciousness fading in the face of Rafe’s antics.

He glanced over at her with a grin that could rival the moon itself. “You laugh too easily,” he teased. “I’ll have you know, I’m a professional.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but there was no denying the warmth spreading in her chest. It was like being swept up in the sheer spontaneity of it all. The world was quiet, and the only thing that mattered in that moment was the laughter and the joy they shared. It was a side of Rafe she hadn’t seen much of before, and it was making her heart flutter in ways she couldn’t quite explain.

“You’re ridiculous,” she said, wiping a tear from her eye, still laughing.

“Ridiculously fun, you mean,” Rafe shot back with a wink, then reached to turn the music up louder. The bass reverberated through the car, and for the next few minutes, they sang along to whatever song came on, their voices a perfect mess of harmony and laughter.

It didn’t matter that the night was creeping on or that the world outside was still buzzing with life. It felt like they had created their own little bubble—a space where nothing else could touch them. It was just her and Rafe. And it was enough.

After a while, they reached the outskirts of town. The lights dimmed, and the streets grew emptier, the night air cooler as they drove further. Rafe’s grin never wavered as he pulled into the parking lot of a small, roadside diner that was half-lit by the neon signs hanging outside. The “Open” sign buzzed with a faint flicker, but it still looked inviting in its own way.

“You hungry?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he pulled to a stop.

Y/N stretched, her arms reaching above her head as she let out a small groan. “Yeah, definitely. I could use something greasy right about now.”

Rafe’s grin grew. “Good. Because I know just the place.”

They both climbed out of the car, and Y/N couldn’t help but laugh as she looked up at the slightly rundown diner. It was nothing fancy, but the warmth that radiated from it felt like a small piece of comfort in the middle of the night. It was the perfect place for a spontaneous adventure.

Rafe opened the door for her with a mock bow. “After you, m’lady.”

Y/N smirked, shaking her head as she stepped inside. “You’re such a dork.”

–

The small bell above the door jingled as they entered, the faint hum of the diner’s jukebox mixing with the sounds of quiet conversation from a few patrons scattered around. The waitress behind the counter gave them a quick once-over, her eyes lingering on Rafe for a split second before she gave them a nod of acknowledgement.

“Table for two?” she asked with a warm but no-nonsense smile.

“Yep,” Rafe replied, gesturing toward a booth in the corner. “This one’s perfect.”

They slid into the booth, the seats worn but comfortable, and Y/N immediately kicked her legs out, the worn vinyl creaking under her as she stretched. There was something about the simplicity of the diner that made everything feel easy, like the world outside could wait.

Rafe picked up the laminated menu and flicked through it with a practiced hand. “Alright, so what are you in the mood for? Fries? Milkshake? The works?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, eyeing the menu with mock seriousness. “If I’m going for it, I might as well go all in. Fries and a milkshake sound perfect.”

Rafe smiled at her choice, a little amused. “Classic. I’ll take the same, but with a burger. You know, for the ultimate greasy experience.”

“God, you’re such a guy,” Y/N laughed, nudging him with her shoulder. “Fine, I’ll get a burger too. But you’re paying for it.”

Rafe’s eyes widened dramatically. “I’m paying for the fries and milkshake too, right?”

Y/N shot him a playful look. “You bet.”

As the waitress came back to take their orders, Rafe leaned back in the booth, crossing his arms over his chest. “So,” he began, voice light but full of curiosity, “you ever come to places like this when you were younger?”

Y/N paused, thinking for a moment. “I mean, yeah, we had a couple of dives like this back home. Not exactly my ‘family night out’ spot, but a place to grab something cheap and quick. My mom used to take us to places like this when I was little, before everything got... complicated.”

Rafe nodded, picking up on the subtle shift in her tone. He didn’t press, but there was a soft understanding in his expression as he stared at his menu. “I get that,” he said quietly. “My mom used to bring Sarah and me here all the time before she died. It was one of those things—some nights, this place was the only thing that felt like home, you know?”

Y/N’s eyes softened as she looked at him, the words he spoke giving her a glimpse into a side of Rafe that was rarely shown. “I didn’t know that,” she admitted.

“Yeah.” Rafe shifted in his seat, not quite meeting her gaze. “It’s not much, but it’s something I hold on to.”

Before the silence could grow too heavy, the waitress arrived with their food. The scent of greasy fries and fresh burgers filled the air, and the two of them dug in without another word, the moment passing easily.

“So,” Y/N said after taking a bite of her fries, “do you always get so deep on people in the middle of a diner?”

Rafe smirked, his usual teasing tone back in full force. “You’re the one who asked,” he retorted, grabbing a fry off her plate with a wink.

Y/N mock-glared at him, though it was clear she was enjoying the back-and-forth. “That’s it. No more sharing your fries.”

“Oh no, you didn’t just threaten my fries,” Rafe shot back, grabbing a handful of fries and holding them away from her reach. “These are mine. Deal with it.”

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help laughing. “You’re such a child.”

Rafe grinned, leaning back with his burger. “And you love it,” he said, his voice carrying a note of affection that was hard to ignore.

–

Upon return to the car, Rafe’s eyes sparkled with excitement as he turned to Y/N.

With a grin, Rafe pulled the car into a narrow alleyway and parked in front of an old, forgotten building. The walls were cracked and faded, and the windows were boarded up. It looked like the kind of place that had been left behind by time—like a forgotten corner of the world.

Y/N took a deep breath, glancing over at Rafe with a hesitant but intrigued look. “You wanna climb up there?” She nodded toward the fire escape ladder that led up to the roof, her heart racing with the thought of doing something reckless and a little dangerous.

Rafe’s grin widened. “You got a problem with that?”

Y/N hesitated only for a moment before shrugging, her lips curving into a playful smile. “Not at all. But, I’ve got a better idea.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh?”

Without another word, Y/N led him down the alley, her steps confident as she moved toward another, lesser-known building in the area. It wasn’t as decayed as the other one, but it had its own charm. It was a rooftop Y/N had discovered when she and the Pogues used to sneak around town—a secret spot where they could look over the city without anyone bothering them.

She glanced at Rafe, her expression turning a little softer, a sense of pride in her eyes. “This is my spot. I’ve come here a few times when I needed to think. It's not as obvious as the other place, but that’s the point. I figured it’s time to share it with you.”

Rafe blinked in surprise. “I didn’t know you had a secret place.”

Y/N grinned. “I’m full of surprises, remember?”

With a nod of appreciation, Rafe followed her up the stairs leading to the roof. The night was clear, and the cool breeze brushed through their hair as they reached the top. Y/N threw a glance over her shoulder and smiled at Rafe, who had climbed up with ease, his usual confident demeanor unchanged.

“So, this is where you get away from it all?” Rafe asked, looking around at the rooftop, which offered a perfect view of the town below. The lights of the city twinkled in the distance, casting a soft glow in the dark.

“Yeah,” Y/N said, her tone quieter now. “It’s always been my place to just breathe, you know? Get away from everyone and everything. And now... it’s our spot, I guess.”

Rafe nodded slowly, taking in the scene. The rooftop had an old charm to it, like it was untouched by time. There was a worn couch pushed against one of the walls, some string lights hanging loosely from the rafters, and old crates stacked in a haphazard manner. It wasn’t perfect, but there was something peaceful about it.

“You really have found the best spots,” Rafe remarked, a little in awe. He moved to sit on the edge of the roof, gazing out at the cityscape below. “I can see why you like it up here.”

Y/N followed his gaze, taking in the same view. “It’s quieter up here. You can just think without everyone looking over your shoulder.”

They settled back against the edge, the view of the quiet town spread out below. Rafe’s playful smirk had faded, his eyes serious as he looked at her.

“So…” he began, a bit uncertain. “What about JJ? I mean, if you… if you think about him at all anymore.”

Y/N let out a sigh, folding her arms as she thought. “I don’t know. For so long, I thought maybe he was just… it for me, you know?” She laughed, though it sounded a little bitter even to her own ears. “But he ignored me when I needed him. And that pity kiss—like he thought that’s what I wanted. Like he’d just throw me a bone and I’d come running.” She shook her head, pushing down the sting that still lingered. “So maybe we’re just not meant to be.”

Rafe’s gaze softened, and he shifted closer. “Sounds like he’s an idiot, if he doesn’t see what he has right in front of him.”

She looked up at him, her chest tightening. “And you? Was the kiss… real?”

Rafe didn’t answer right away, but he reached over and gently touched her hand. “Y/N, that kiss wasn’t some act. Trust me. I—” He paused, his voice softer. “I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t really mean it.”

Y/N felt a warmth spread through her at his words, remembering how sincere he’d been, even down to that careful way he’d brushed his lips over her bruise. She looked away, half-smiling to herself. “I believe you,” she whispered.

The air lightened a bit, and Rafe let out a low chuckle. “You know, I never expected to like you like this. But I think I kind of did from the start.”

“Oh, really?” she said, her tone brightening. “So when was that?”

Rafe grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. “Probably that first time you called me out for being an ass on the boat. Thought it was hilarious. No one ever does that to me.”

Y/N laughed, nudging him lightly. “Guess I’ve always been good at keeping you in check.”

“Yeah,” Rafe replied, his voice warm. “And I’m kind of glad you do.”

They shared a look, the humor and lightness of the moment lingering between them. The rooftop suddenly felt even cozier, like it was just their world up there.

“You know,” Y/N said after a moment, her voice a little quieter, “I think the first time I met you... was when I spilled that drink on you. You remember that?” She looked over at Rafe, her lips curving into a small smile.

Rafe’s eyes widened slightly, and he let out a surprised chuckle. “Oh god. How could I forget? I thought you were gonna get fired that night.”

Y/N laughed, the memory flooding back. “I was so nervous. It was only my second shift ever. You were sitting there with your family, and I totally ruined your suit. I thought I was gonna die.”

Rafe smirked, his eyes softening. “You spilled the drink, sure. But you didn’t make it worse. You just... apologized and kept your head down. Unlike Rose, who wanted to chew you out right there.” He shook his head with a little grin. “I think I might’ve made that worse than it needed to be.”

She chuckled, remembering how he had been so calm, even though Rose had been ready to rip her apart. “Yeah, I thought you were gonna jump in and make it worse, but you didn’t. You were just kind of... kind. Even if you didn’t show it, you were. And honestly, I didn’t expect that from you.”

Rafe shrugged, a little sheepish. “Guess I wasn’t as big of a jerk back then as I acted.”

“You definitely weren’t,” Y/N agreed, the corner of her mouth curving into a soft smile. “And look where we are now.”

Rafe grinned, nudging her lightly. “Yeah. Look at us.”

There was a moment of comfortable silence, the night air cool around them. They stayed there, gazing out over the town, a shared understanding between them that didn’t need to be said aloud. They had come a long way from the awkward moments of the past, and maybe, just maybe, they were on the right path now.

—

The night was still young when Y/N and Rafe decided to head back to Tannyhill. The adrenaline from their rooftop race and the fun they’d had together hung in the air, but as they got back into the car, a quieter mood settled over them. The drive was peaceful, the streets empty as they cruised along the winding roads.

Rafe kept his hand on the wheel, but his eyes occasionally flicked toward Y/N, his expression soft, contemplative. Y/N, for her part, stared out the window, her thoughts a little more scattered now. The night had been perfect, but something about being with Rafe felt different—more real, more grounded. “We have the house to ourselves tonight” he said, breaking the stillness. “Wheezie’s visiting some friends, and my dad and Rose are on a business trip in Charleston.” His voice was casual, but there was something else beneath it—an unspoken relief. “Sarah’s been doing her own thing for a bit.”

Rafe pulled the car into the long driveway, the gravel crunching under the tires as he stopped just in front of the large front steps. He turned the engine off, his gaze lingering on the house. “This place is... I dunno, kinda creepy when it’s just me here,” he said, half to himself, half to Y/N.

Y/N raised an eyebrow as she leaned back in her seat, looking up at the darkened windows. “It’s huge. Feels like it could be a haunted mansion or something.”

Rafe chuckled, his expression softening a little as he glanced over at her. “Yeah, sometimes it feels like it’s too much space for one person. Especially with my parents gone.”

Y/N nodded. She could sense the unspoken relief in his voice—the way he appreciated the absence of his family, even if it meant being alone in a house as massive as Tannyhill. There was a kind of freedom in it that she understood.

“So,” she said, her voice playful but a little teasing, “what do we do now? I’m guessing you didn’t bring me here to just stare at the mansion.”

Rafe smirked, unlocking the car doors. “Nah. But I did bring you here to... well, maybe get into a little bit of trouble.”

He stepped out of the car first, stretching as the night air wrapped around them. Y/N followed suit, feeling the coolness of the breeze against her damp skin. The walk to the front door was easy, the sound of their footsteps drowned out by the distant chirping of crickets.

As they reached the front steps, Rafe turned and glanced down at her, the expression on his face one of both excitement and mischief. “You ready to get into trouble?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her heart picking up the slightest beat. “Define trouble.”

“Something that involves a little chaos. No rules, just... whatever feels right.”

Y/N smiled, her eyes glinting with an energy she hadn’t felt in a while. “That sounds dangerous. But okay. Lead the way.”

Rafe’s grin widened as he pulled open the front door, the old wood creaking slightly. The house smelled faintly of dust and rich leather, the air thick with history. Tannyhill had always felt too grand, too intimidating, but tonight, with the house all to themselves, it felt like the world had shrunk down to just them.

They wandered inside, Rafe casually leading her through the large, open living area. It was grandiose, with high ceilings and dark wood furniture that looked like it had been handed down for generations. The place was beautiful, but it was also still—no loud conversations from his parents, no footsteps on the stairs. For once, it felt like it could just be a place to breathe.

“You know,” Y/N began as they walked through the kitchen, glancing over at Rafe, “I never expected to end up here. It’s so... different from the stuff I’m used to.”

Rafe shrugged, leaning against the counter casually. “Yeah, I get it. It’s a lot. I mean, I can’t exactly blame you. You’re used to... well, not this. Not the country club life.”

Y/N smiled wryly. “I’m not complaining. Just... never really thought about how different we are. You know?”

Rafe’s eyes softened, and he nodded. “Yeah. I guess we’ve both got our own worlds. But tonight, we get to make our own, right?”

The house smelled faintly of wood and incense, the warmth of the fireplace in the living room flickering softly. Rafe led her over to a large, plush couch, and they both sat down, not too close but not far apart either. The space between them felt comfortable now, like it had been there all along.

“I’ve never really had anyone over here much,” Rafe admitted, breaking the silence again. “It’s... different, I guess. But I’m glad you’re here.”

Y/N tilted her head slightly, glancing at him. “I’m glad I’m here too. I think... I think we both needed tonight.”

Rafe’s eyes met hers, and for a second, there was something in his gaze that was almost too intimate—like he was seeing her in a way he hadn’t before. It made her heart beat a little faster, and she shifted slightly on the couch, unsure of how to navigate the sudden shift.

He seemed to catch on to her discomfort, though, and smiled reassuringly. “You don’t have to talk about anything if you don’t want to. I just—” He paused for a moment. “I don’t know. I feel like I can be myself around you.”

Y/N blinked, surprised by his vulnerability. “I can say the same thing.”

A small, soft chuckle left Rafe’s lips as he leaned back, running a hand through his hair. “I guess I’m not used to this... Just being around someone who gets it.”

Y/N turned toward him, a little more serious now. “What do you mean?”

He took a deep breath, clearly thinking carefully about his words. “Like... I’m always trying to live up to expectations, you know? My family, my dad, all that. It’s hard to be around people who want me to be something I’m not.” He let out a sigh, eyes distant for a moment, as if lost in thought. “But you... you don’t judge. You’re not trying to get something out of me. I can just... be.”

Y/N didn’t respond immediately. She could sense the weight of what he was saying, the struggle to balance the person he was expected to be with the person he truly was. It was something she could relate to in her own way, even if their circumstances were different.

“I get it,” she said quietly, her voice soft but firm. “I know what it’s like to feel like you have to fit a certain mold. It’s exhausting, isn’t it?”

Rafe nodded, his eyes darkening with a quiet intensity. “Yeah, it is. And I’m scared of what happens when I stop trying. When I just let go and let myself... be who I really am. You know?”

Y/N looked down at her hands, thinking about her own fears—the pressures to fit in with the Kooks, the constant tension between who she was expected to be and who she really was. But there was something different about being with Rafe. In that moment, she realized that maybe, just maybe, they didn’t need to have everything figured out.

“You don’t have to have it all figured out, Rafe,” she said softly, her voice steady. “You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to be you.”

Rafe turned to her, his gaze searching hers, as if looking for some kind of reassurance. And in that moment, she felt a connection between them—one that was real, unspoken, and deeply understood.

He didn’t say anything for a long moment, just sat there with her, the weight of their conversation hanging in the air. But there was something comforting in the silence now. They didn’t need to rush to fill it. They didn’t need to say anything more.

Eventually, Rafe reached out, his hand lightly brushing hers. The touch was subtle, but it felt significant. It was a quiet acknowledgment, an understanding that they were both in this—whatever it was—together. Neither of them spoke as they sat side by side, the night stretching on and the world outside Tannyhill feeling a million miles away.

The stillness between them lingered, heavy but comfortable. Rafe’s fingers brushed lightly against Y/N’s again, a delicate, almost uncertain gesture, but one that carried the weight of something unspoken. It was as if the tension of the night—the race, the quiet drive, the conversation—had all led them to this point. There was an undeniable magnetism, an attraction they both felt but hadn't fully allowed themselves to acknowledge before.

Y/N looked at him, her breath catching as their eyes met. The space between them felt smaller now, their proximity intimate, and the air in the room seemed to thrum with anticipation. Her heart was beating faster than she could control, and though she wasn’t quite sure what was happening, she felt an overwhelming urge to close the distance between them.

Rafe’s hand moved slightly, his fingers ghosting over hers, as if testing the waters. It was a simple touch, but the connection between them felt anything but simple. He leaned in, his breath brushing against her cheek, the scent of him—woodsy, warm, and faintly like the ocean—filling her senses.

“You know,” Rafe’s voice was quiet, but the warmth in it was undeniable, “I’ve been thinking about this moment... the whole night, actually.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, her pulse racing as she tilted her head to meet his gaze. “What moment?”

“The one where I finally get to kiss you,” he murmured, his voice low, barely a whisper, but carrying all the weight of his unspoken feelings.

Her heart skipped a beat, and before she could think about it any further, she found herself leaning in, closing the space between them. Rafe didn’t hesitate; his lips met hers, tentative at first, as if he were testing the waters, but soon the kiss deepened, the urgency of their feelings taking over.

It wasn’t hurried, but there was a sense of exploration, a hunger that had been building between them all night. The kiss was soft, tentative at first, but then it grew, both of them giving into the quiet intensity of the moment. Rafe’s hand moved to cup her face, the warmth of his palm sending a shiver down her spine. Y/N responded in kind, her hands finding his chest, feeling the thrum of his heartbeat beneath her fingertips.

It was electric. It was a release. It was everything they had been holding back, finally spilling over.

But just as things started to feel like they were heading to something deeper, something more, a sudden, loud bang echoed through the house. The sound shattered the moment, pulling them apart with a jolt.

Both of them froze, their breathing heavy as they turned toward the source of the noise. Rafe’s expression shifted from confusion to recognition as he muttered, “What the hell was that?”

Y/N’s heart still raced, her thoughts scattered as she tried to make sense of the interruption. “Was that...”

“Yeah,” Rafe said, cutting her off, his voice low and filled with surprise. He quickly stood up from the couch, moving toward the hallway with Y/N following behind him.

Another loud noise followed—the unmistakable sound of a door creaking open, followed by muffled voices that made Rafe’s eyes narrow in disbelief.

“I thought you said no one was here,” Y/N whispered, still reeling from the sudden interruption, her body tense from the unexpected break in the moment.

“I swear to god, no one was supposed to be here,” Rafe muttered, his tone sharp as he moved stealthily toward the back of the house.

Rafe motioned for Y/N to follow, and the two of them crept down the hallway, careful not to make a sound. The house was still, but there was something in the air now—something off. Y/N could feel it in the pit of her stomach.

They reached the dim light of the hallway and froze. Two figures appeared in the doorway. John B. and Sarah.

Y/N didn’t even blink—her eyes just locked on them, her thoughts grinding to a halt. It took a moment for her to register what she was seeing.

Sarah noticed Rafe at the same time, her face turning pale. She threw her hands up like she was surrendering. “THIS IS NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE!!!” she blurted, her voice higher than normal, a little shaky.

John B., standing beside her, glanced from Sarah to Rafe, and a smug little smirk crept across his face. “It kinda is, though.”

Rafe shot forward, staring at Sarah with disbelief. “This is my sister, dude!” he exclaimed, his voice tight with frustration.

At the same moment, John B. realized there was someone else peeking into the hall. Turning his gaze to Y/N, his eyebrows raised in shock. “Wait, hold on—how do you two know each other? And why the hell are you here, alone, in Rafe’s house at three in the morning?”

Y/N stammered for a second, her brain still scrambling. She opened her mouth and then quickly closed it again. “Uh, we... um...” She threw her hands up in defeat. “We were... um... studying?”

John B. gave her a long, deadpan look. “You don’t even go to the same school. And it's summer. Seriously, try again.”

Y/N shrunk a little, eyes darting from John B. to Sarah to Rafe. “I... we... uh...” She was out of ideas. “I don’t know. We were, like, talking. You know?”

Rafe was still staring at John B., arms crossed tightly across his chest. “What about you two?” He glanced from John B. to Sarah. “You guys think you can sneak around the house and pretend this is casual?”

John B. laughed, but there was a hard edge to it. “You’re really going to call me out? What, you think you’re the only one with secrets?”

Sarah shifted on her feet, arms crossed, glancing between the boys, before speaking up. “Look, we didn’t plan for this to happen, okay? But it did. And... yeah, it’s a little weird, but it’s not like we’re doing anything wrong.”

Rafe glared at John B., who was now glaring back, but the tension was clearly rising. Y/N glanced between them, feeling the absurdity of the situation hit her all at once. There was no way they could keep this quiet for much longer.

A long pause hung in the air before Rafe broke the silence. “Two wrongs don’t make a right, I guess.”

John B. let out a sharp exhale, rubbing his face. “Yeah, fine. Two wrongs, whatever.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her smile sneaking through the confusion. “So, I guess we’re all in this... secret club now?”

Sarah snorted, glancing at John B. “Yeah, the In-Law Gang or something.”

John B. shot her a look. “What, you think that sounds cool?”

“Better than ‘The I’m Dating Someone in This House Club,’” Sarah quipped.

Y/N couldn’t help it. “Honestly, ‘In-Laws Anonymous’ has a nice ring to it,” she added, grinning.

Rafe rubbed his face, trying to look annoyed but clearly fighting a smile. “This is ridiculous. I didn’t sign up for this when I agreed to let you all sneak around”

John B. threw his hands up, clearly enjoying the chaos. “It’s official then. We’re the In-Law Gang. We meet every third Thursday, unless someone gets caught trying to sneak out at 3 AM.”

Y/N let out a laugh, shaking her head. “This is way too much for me.”

Sarah leaned in, a teasing smile on her face. “Don’t worry, you’re stuck with us now.”

Rafe shook his head, an exasperated but amused smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “This is the weirdest damn night ever.”

The tension faded, replaced by an awkward silence that, somehow, ended with all four of them laughing, the ridiculousness of it all sinking in.

—-

A/N :

So... do we think the in law gang are 4 liferz or is going to blow up in their faces? Drop a comment or send me an ask if you’ve got thoughts, questions, or wild predictions. I love hearing all of your thoughts and am curious to know what you think about the chapter!

—

Next time: secrets and pogues

—

Taglist:

@hockeybabe87 , @idiotussupremus , @certifiedhaters , @oatmealisweird, @sluggmuffin , @maybankslover , @ren-ni, @wh0reforbucknasty , @enjoymyloves , @bilssturns

[condemning-twitter]

Alright, since the idiot above keeps trying to tell me (a German who took advanced classes in history) what wing Nazis were... let's wrap this up.

Mr. "mustache man wouldn't lie to us" probably also believes that the Democratic People's Republic of Korea is a democratic republic and not... a dictatorship. But shockers! Totalitarian leaders are fully capable and willing to rebrand a term for propaganda purposes. In the case of the NSDAP, they rebranded the term "socialist" to gain the sympathies of the working class who were, at the time, struggling financially.

What this user is referring to is authoritarianism, not leftism. Notably, authoritarianism can occur independently from the "left vs right" political spectrum, as "authoritarianism vs libertarianism" is its very own political spectrum.

This is why infringements on your freedoms such as a ban on guns, free speech, and blind loyalty have nothing to do with being "left wing" or "right wing".

The core values of leftism are

(1) Freedom: Emancipating people from being held under forceful control, and giving them opportunities to exercise conscious choice over their lives without arbitrary constraints or coercion.

(2) Equality: Bringing about situations where people are of the same or similar standing in certain important respects, or by certain criteria of measurement.

(3) Justice: Ensuring that people are treated and provided for fairly, adequately, and correctly, according to their rightful due.

(4) Solidarity: Recognising the reciprocal bonds and shared purposes that tie people together, and their duties to support each other in their mutual common interest.

(5) Pluralism: Acknowledging that people are separate individuals who belong to various groups, and encouraging people to foster the many heterogeneous and incommensurable aspects of their identities.

(6) Progress: Pursuing the continuous onward advance of society by developing ever new and better ways to bring about improvements in people’s lives.

Source

Nazis incorporated NONE of that.

(1) Freedom: Nazis removed various freedoms from their citizens with the "Reichstagsbrandverordnung", overriding articles 114, 115, 117, 118, 123, 124 and 153 of the Weimar Republic. They restricted freedom of speech and speech, right to assembly, and the German "Briefgeheimnis" (privacy of letters), and enabled house searches.

(2) Equality: Nazis promoted a racial hierarchy with "Aryans" at the top. Gender roles were promoted, for example, through the establishment of the BDM which was separated from the general HJ.

(3) Justice: No justice or fairness without equality. See the point above.

(4) Solidarity: Nazis systematically excluded groups they deemed "unworthy". Exclusionary solidarity is not solidarity, otherwise nepotism and corruption would count as "solidarity" among capitalists.

(5) Pluralism: Nazis imposed a homogenous state identity upon all its citizens and purged all those who did not fit that standard. Not only did this logic apply to ethnic groups but also to sexualities, gender identities, disabilities, political affiliations, ...

(6) Progress: Now, read all of the above again and try telling me Nazis were "progressive".

For further comparisons between leftist and Nazi values, check out the following post.

Huh. Funny. So you are telling me that IN SPITE of Mustache Man believing Communism (and by extension Socialism) to be a Jewish conspiracy, he rejected both. The WHY DID HE PROMOTE IT? Seeing the error?

Quite obviously, "Socialism" meant something different to Mustache Man than to modern Socialists. In other words, Hitler never intended to practice Socialism and DEFINITELY not in the way we know it.

Side notes:

Excessive use of "..." it sounds like you are an edgy 14-year-old who is desperately trying to sound cool

Trump is about to run the US economy into the dirt because Capitalism is just as fucking stupid as Communism; mixed models so far have achieved the best results in maintaining high living standards among the entire population

I couldn't have said it better myself.

[vrystalius]

Not saying “I love you” to the hashira

How would the hashira react to you not saying “I love you” back to them?

Pairing: Sanemi, Kyojuro, Gyomei, Giyu x gn!reader

Sanemi Shinazugawa

♡—Him not saying “I love you” back…

Sanemi not saying “I love you” back is extremely rare. It’s usually the case that the wind hashira is too distracted by something and instead of reincorporating your affection, he might mumble “Yeah, yeah” or a simple “Me too” under his breath, thinking he did say those three magic words properly, only noticing that he didn’t when he noticed that you were being pouty once he did manage to find time to solely focus on you.

Sometimes, when you two lay in bed together, you mumble a quiet “love you”. As you close your eyes and think that your husband is already deeply asleep, you hear Sanemi sleepily respond instinctively to your affirmation.

“Don’t let the rice eat you.”

At least he’s being concerned for your safety even in his dreams.

⁎⁺˳✧༚

♡—You not saying “I love you” back…

It would actually make him really sad. Sanemi strongly believes that he probably did something to upset you, what other reason could be there for you not to reincorporate his words?

He’d silently glance at you every now and then throughout the whole day, trying to analyse your body language to find out if you’re upset at him. Sanemi would hover near you, almost like a kicked-puppy, still waiting on you to give him love, despite the situation of you not reincorporating those words was early in the morning and with that several hours ago. He needs you to reassure him, or else no missions will be finished that day.

“Hey, you forgot something.” He’d try to remind you, but you not knowing what he meant you just cock your head in slight confusion. Sanemi ran his fingers through his hair and sighed quietly. “Nevermind. Whatever.”

Kyojuro Rengoku

♡—Him not saying “I love you” back…

Impossible! Either you didn’t hear him over his mouth being stuffed with sweet potato fries, or he overthought the perfect moment on when to say his favourite three words to the point where he forgets to say them at all. After missing the perfect moment and not saying “I love you, Kyojuro’ll just give you a simple compliment or a wonky yet bright smile, trying to convey his love for you in that way.

If he sees you get confused or even sad about how he is not reincorporating your love, he’ll quickly almost yell the words out, not wanting to upset you.

“I love you! I promise I do!”

⁎⁺˳✧༚

♡—You not saying “I love you” back…

Kyojuro’s first instinct would be to think that you are just too busy or preoccupied to reply to him, especially with you having to run so many errands today. After a couple hours pass where you spend your time elsewhere, he’d briefly worry if there is something that is bothering you, but that thought quickly faded away since your husband is sure that you’ll share whatever troubles you when the time is right and you feel comfortable enough.

So, once he sees you again, Kyojuro’ll continue to give you affection and reassurance, trying to make you feel loved without words by giving you light pecks on your cheek, holding your hand while you two walked or taking you out on a small, unplanned date. He’ll tell you that he loves you again, watching you expectantly with big eyes until you finally utter the words that make his heart melt every time.

“I love you, my firefly!” He had a big grin on his face while those words left his mouth, now awaiting for your reaction. Chuckling quietly, you responded with a small kiss on his cheek. Kyojuro’s face briefly turned into a pout, wanting to hear you say it back. It was just too adorable to tease him like this…

Gyomei Himejima

♡—Him not saying “I love you” back…

The reason Gyomei barely says “I love you” is that he feels that actions speak louder, and besides, you already know that he loves you more than any words can ever express. Although, if you tell him that you love him, he will of course respond by reassuring you with a soft smile and leaning down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead.

⁎⁺˳✧༚

♡—You not saying “I love you” back

If you don’t reincorporate his affirmation, Gyomei wouldn’t mind at all. Just like he does, you express your love for him in other ways: touching him in any way, kisses, small gifts or your presence alone is reassuring him of your love. Yet, it is nice to hear it every once in a while. If you ignore his “I love you” in order to tease him or whatever other reason, he grows very quiet and thoughtful. He wonders if you have any troubles or if he hurt you in any way, sitting down in a quiet area to reflect on all his actions and behaviours over the past weeks, praying quietly.

Your husband also will ask you outright if you are upset at him after pondering for a while. If you tell him no, Gyomei will grow even more worried. Perhaps you were using sarcasm? Surely something must’ve moved you to not respond to his affections, right?

“I love you, my light.” Your husband calls out to you, pulling your attention away from whatever you were doing, responding with a simple “Okay.” You watched as his whole face morphed into one of worry, him slowly retreating back into the gardens to continue to self-reflect and pray.

Giyu Tomioka

♡—Him not saying “I love you” back…

It happens on accident sometimes, Giyu either forgets or is too nervous to say it back. He’s not quite used to the idea of being loved and cherished by someone he loves so much, so his brain temporarily halts when you tell him that you love him. Sometimes, he gives you a nasty look on accident as a response, as if silently judging you for choosing someone like him to date and spend your time with. He hasn’t quite processed everything yet, so please forgive him when he either doesn’t respond or mumbled a very quiet “love you too”

⁎⁺˳✧༚

♡—You not saying “I love you” back…

His heart is shattered, thoughts about you loosing interest in him or not loving him anymore now running in circles over and over in his mind. Those three simple words can do so much with a person’s mind, can’t they? Giyu grows immediately extremely quiet, pulling away from you and heading off to any available mission right now or going to train, trying to give you space. He tries to concentrate on training or the missions but he keeps thinking about you not saying that you love him back. Giyu feels so nervous and nauseous about coming back home, thinking you are not there to greet him and gone forever, or suggesting to break up. He may be overreacting, but he just can’t help it!

Once the water hashira walks through the front door of your shared estate, carefully looking around for your presence, he spotted you in the bedroom. Giyu brought all the courage he had together for this: “I love you.” You lifted your gaze and glanced at him, giving your lover a small smile. “Love you too.”

Oh! His shoulders visibly sagged, tension leaving his body. He gave you an awkward nod before leaving. So his overthinking was all for nothing.

💠

This was inspired by this post (from the Genshin fandom) and I wanted to write my own kny version of it, even if it’s not as long or detailed as the original XD

Anyways, I somehow got sick again and wrote this during the periods I did not feel nauseous but I hope you all enjoyed this anyway <3

Make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <33

[seeingivy]

espresso

ryomen sukuna x f!reader

**part of my dream girl fic

previous part linked here

songs mentioned: espresso by sabrina carpenter

--

--

you don’t feel attached to every song that you write. and most of the time, there’s songs that you scrap for various reasons – the songs you write just to write something, ones that don’t fit on the record that you’re producing or the vibe you’re going for, or the ones that you lockbox into a vault, for your eyes and your eyes only. 

at certain times, it was to remind yourself what it feels like to write and flex the muscles associated with it in your brain. just a way to combat writer's block when it plagued you. at other times, the words were pouring out of you, so fast that you felt like your hands couldn’t even keep up with what was spinning through your mind. 

some songs were too personal. there was an air to them, something that was being said that you had to keep to yourself, keep buried in your chest because no one was entitled to those thoughts but you. 

other songs had no substance at all. filled with embellishment at the very least – just sweet singing and good production in the background. you couldn’t care less about them. 

they varied. existed in abundance. and when mimi found out about it, she made a simple proposition that you agreed to, after much discussion. 

when you signed on with studio eleven, you made negotiation deals for mechanical and performance royalties for songs that you weren’t too attached to. you gave free reign for other people to take your songs and perform them, change them up a little bit to fit their style, as long as you were still cited as the writer and got money for every time it was performed. 

you can still hear mimi’s words in your mind – if you’re doing the work, why not get paid for it? 

in the beginning, you felt possessive. that those were your words, and your words only, so why should someone else be entitled to sing them? but as time went on, you became more malleable to giving up control over it and sharing. soft encouraging words from mimi about money, getting on the good side of other creators, mixed in with every other reason that made you sign it all away. 

most of the time, it worked out fine. gave a few of the associated signed artists something to perform, to add in the middle of their record, and that put a little bit of money in your pocket. 

hell, sometimes you even got credited in award nominations for it. 

the current situation that you’re in though, seething over the fact that aimee will be performing this song with jake in two days, is the exact reason you didn’t want to sell your songs. 

they’d fall into the wrong hands. they’d be used against you. they wouldn’t be yours anymore, not in the ways that it mattered at least. 

the proposition meant that aimee lynch could buy one of your songs – one of the songs that you wrote about jake, with jake – and claim that she was the one who wrote it. that she was the one who wrote it with him. 

that the things you wanted to keep close to your chest would be for everyone to listen, interpret, and manipulate. other people could claim your feelings as their own, your thoughts, your words as something that they made out of thin air. something that they felt. 

that was the feeling that caused the most anger. the searing pain, that made you see blood red. having something stolen from you. again. 

“there has to be some rules about this type of thing. she can’t claim that it’s her intellectual property and say that she wrote it, can she?” eren asks. 

mimi shakes her head. after almost an hour and a half of questioning, from three very overbearing and well meaning friends, had fried her brain – you could tell that much.

you suppose that she should count herself lucky that megumi wasn’t able to attend due to his pr events, because without fail, he was always the worst of the bunch. and had a horrendous problem with mincing his words. 

“technically, they did credit y/n as one of the writers on the song if you look. i’m guessing that they changed a few lyrics here and there, since aimee and jake are listed as writers too.” mimi responds. 

“jake was an original writer on that song. we wrote it together.” you seethe. 

that’s the last time you share your songs with anyone. 

you can see historia and mikasa exchange a look with one another from the corner of your eye, something you guess is warranted by the vitriol laced in your voice. they were always wary when it came to these types of things, always a little nervous when it came to anger that you held in a reserve, that was almost never ending. 

they were shocked at how angry you could get. and while any rational part of your mind would be inclined to take a step back like they suggested, out of good faith of their concern, your anger always won out. 

most of the time, it felt like sheer spite was the only thing that kept you going. it was something that worked for you – so why would you do something else? 

“she’s allowed to change lyrics that y/n wrote?” mikasa asks. 

mimi shrugs. 

“it’s kind of murky waters when you take someone’s song as your own. they’re the ones who recorded and produced it, and since they properly credited as they were supposed to, so they can kind of do whatever they want.” mimi responds. 

eren groans, pinching the bridge of his nose, as he flops down on the couch next to you. 

“we can’t really police what they say. if she wants to say that she wrote the song with jake, there’s nothing that we can really say about that. she’s omitting information, for sure, but we…we can’t do anything about her lying.” mimi states, the tone in her voice final. 

“this wasn’t even one of the songs that she decided to sell. jake just handed it over to aimee because she asked, i’m assuming? they don’t have to ask for y/n’s permission?” historia asks. 

mimi pauses. 

“i’m assuming they got the same patent as the ones for the other songs, someone at the record label must have signed off on giving it up just because they assumed it was one of the scrapped songs. they couldn’t have taken it unless someone signed off on it here.” 

you can feel your eye twitch. 

“find whoever that is. who signed the song away.” you state. 

mimi shoots you one last apologetic smile as she leaves the room, pressing the phone to her ear as she slips through the door, and you sink down into the couch. knowing her, she was going to try her best to do damage control behind the scenes for whoever did sign your song away, just to save face and make sure that someone didn't lose their job.

her immediate retreat is one that sends historia and mikasa to their legs – their hands basically shoving eren to the side as the four of you squish onto the couch, their heads nestled against each of your shoulders. 

“what do you think happened? i mean…fully?” mikasa asks, the tone in her voice overexerted with an air of caution. 

you sigh. there was always more that met the eye with aimee lynch. things were always perfectly calculated, against your favor, and were never just from a sheer lack of dumb luck like she made it seem. 

you learned that the hard way. 

“if i’m guessing right, jake must have been really mad when i ended things with him. things were bad for a while and we basically fought the entire time at the end.” you state. 

“about?” mikasa asks. 

you shrug. 

“he’s really good friends with aimee or became really good friends with aimee towards the end of our relationship. seems she had some newfound interest in him. i…i had given him some idea of what she did and that it made me uncomfortable, but i guess she was pretty adamant and told him things on the side as well. he basically told me that he was allowed to be friends with whoever he wanted to be friends with and i couldn’t stop him.” you respond.  

“why he’d want to be friends with her is lost to me in the first place.” eren states. 

“either way, i’m assuming his ego is just hurt which is why he’s so keen on biting back right now. you know, with obsessed and everything. i’m sure he’s convinced that i loved him so much that i wouldn’t drag his name through the mud, even though he was the one who did it to me first.”

you pause. 

“it’s entirely intentional too. he knows that i wanted to release state of grace as one of the songs for the next album, him and aimee probably talked to someone here through her dad, and got the song first since i had already recorded the demo and given the lyrics.” you respond. 

“first things first, once mimi finds out whoever it was, they have to get fired.” historia responds. 

you nod thoughtfully.

“any ideas for a song?” mikasa asks. 

you shake your head. 

“i’m not sure if that’s the right move here. only because they both know me so well.” 

after almost six years of making music, there were certain fast facts and facets of the music industry that you learned very quickly. 

first and foremost – it was almost never about the music. not about the art. at least not for anyone else that was attached to the music besides the songwriters and the producers. 

the first priority is to get signed with a record label. the second priority is to make sure that you stay signed with your label – meaning you have to meet certain quotas, have your albums reach a certain standard of commercial success, and getting nominated for a few awards here and there. 

second – some music sells and some music doesn’t. if you find something that sells, you have to hold on to it and make sure that it doesn’t run off. even if that means being repetitive, even if that means creating songs that are similar – against your better creative instincts. 

there was one thing that you found out quickly. people loved love songs. but loved when you made angry, spiteful ballads aimed at people you were fighting with even more. 

and third – the image is everything. if you’re able to successfully market yourself – market the image and the persona – the fans will lead you to success. in your case, you had pinned the image down to a perfect craft. 

it was simple. people weren’t too fond of you. granted, that was a given – with so many people in the industry, there was bound to be some disagreements. ex-boyfriends who irritated you, talked about you in the press and sullied your good name. 

and your response was always the same. writing scathing songs about them, leaving hints and details in the lyrics and music videos so people would know that you were talking about them, so that it would give people something to talk about – and more importantly, a reason to listen. 

an image so perfectly curated that new releases almost promised attention, because people knew that you would be saying something in response to what had been floating around about you. 

it worked well in your favor most of the time. but you were fighting fire with fire on this one, because aimee lynch is surely the type to retaliate, someone well versed on your public image since she was the one who helped you curate it.

“i would obviously feel inclined to write a song about them, but i feel like they’re smarter than that. knowing them, they’ve probably stolen another song that they’re planning on using against me after the fact.” you mumble. 

there’s a dejected sigh from the group of them. 

“i can tell that she puts a lot of thought into the little cat and mouse game that the two of you play all the time.” mikasa states. 

“i fear she has nothing else to do besides play games with me. and it helps her image, which only gives her more reason to do it at this point. i know better than anyone that drama sells.” you respond. 

eren pushes up off the couch, pacing around the room and haphazardly messing with his air, as he thinks out loud.

you’re not sure why he does it, because every solution that he offers is some type suggestion involving a violent interaction where you shut her up for good. 

and while you would be inclined to take his advice, you avoid it against your better judgment. even your anger had its limits.

“can’t you steal her song back or something? talk to someone at dancing lady and do it right back?” eren asks. 

“as if they would give up a song of hers so freely. i’m sure they’d all go running and tell her dad right away.” you murmur. 

“you just have to hit her where it hurts, you know? like she’s clearly trying to make a point by taking something of yours, so you just have to do it back.” historia states. 

you scoff. 

“cool. let me just go steal her generational multi-million music empire while i’m at it.” you state. 

historia rolls her eyes. 

“you know i didn’t mean it like that. but you know, you just have to find some way to make her look like an idiot. someone who isn’t scared of her and isn’t particularly fond of her either, you know?” historia asks. 

that’s when the thought comes back to your head. the exact words that had been said to you only a day prior, that were entirely lost to you in the mix of the aimee mess. 

“trust me, the thing that pissed her off the most about me is that i didn’t take her side and took yours instead, y/n. you just have to find someone that will rally on your side that would drop her like that.” historia finishes, snapping her fingers in the air for effect. 

she doesn't even finish her sentence before you're running out the door to the closest studio.  

--

--

“you’re so skilled with balls.” 

sukuna rolls his eyes, only to turn to his left and find what might be his most agitating co-star, satoru gojo. 

“you have to know you sound like an idiot when you say that.” sukuna states. 

satoru frowns. 

“what did i say wrong?” he asks, the hint of a gleaming smile in his eye. 

“you should invest in a tape recorder. listen to the tape back at the end of the day and do some reflection.” sukuna states, shoving the bottle of gatorade against his chest. 

sukuna would rather die than tell satoru that he was his personal favorite to film scenes and do press with. there’s a plethora of things, irritatingly enough, that make sukuna so fond of satoru. 

the fact that he was so skilled at interviews, that without asking, he spoke well of sukuna despite the backlash that he was currently receiving, that he tried to support him in anyway that he could.

even if sukuna made missteps, he would never be one to say anything about it. only the one to pick him up and bring him back. 

“did you ever think about going pro? you’re kind of good at this shit.” satoru states. 

“i’m not that good. you guys are all just terrible.” sukuna responds. 

that much was obvious from how badly the other team was losing. and the fact that half of them had fell face first onto the court already. 

in their last few days of press, the marketing team for the show decided that the select members of cast were going to be participating in a charity all-stars basketball game. it was one of the most anticipated events of the year, with celebrities being on both teams, and special surprise performances for the halftime show. 

the combined sales of the tickets, signed jerseys, and meet and greets raised tens of thousands of dollars, and all in all, it was one of the better events that sukuna found himself being forced to attend. he liked meeting the kids, getting to sign jerseys for people who had chosen to buy his, and getting to take pictures with fans. 

he liked the company at the event a little less. considerably less. sukuna looks over to the other side of the court and catches sight of kim and aimee on the other side of the court, posing for the camera by pressing a kiss to each other’s cheeks, before leaning back in their chair, entirely bored.

the glee filled expressions were dropped the second the camera man walked away, something he had seen more than a hundred times before. 

satoru follows sukuna’s line of vision, before smacking him on the back. 

“did you talk to them?” satoru asks. 

sukuna shakes his head. 

“shoyo would like…skin me alive. and i’d rather keep it lowkey for today since the premiere is tomorrow.” sukuna responds. 

satoru nods, almost like he’s mulling the thought over. sukuna finds himself distracted all together, only because it’s the first time that sukuna’s able to ogle this jake character in the real light. 

he finds it odd that someone as accomplished and skilled as you would ever consider dating him in the first place. he’s not entirely sure what you saw in him.

“satoru?” 

“yeah?” 

“what do you know about that guy?” sukuna asks, pointing over to where he’s seated on the bench, using a towel to wipe the sweat from his brow. 

“who? oikawa?” satoru asks. 

sukuna shakes his head. 

“next to him.” sukuna states. 

“jake?” satoru asks. 

sukuna nods. 

“just that he’s full of shit.” satoru states. 

“well i could have parsed that much out myself, dumbass.” sukuna responds, shoving him in the side. 

the lights in the stadium immediately dim, pink lights focused on the center of the court, and fog machines encasing the entire floor in a translucent sheen. there’s a booming voice that comes out of the speakers, that nearly makes sukuna jump out of his seat from being startled. 

“ladies and gentleman, please welcome our very last performer, our very special half-time show guest, y/n l/n.” 

sukuna nearly jolts up in his chair as the lights flash in the center of the court – to the sight of you wearing a light pink crew neck and a white tennis skirt – with a light pink ribbon tangled into your hair. 

sukuna grabs satoru by the collar, all but pulling up to stand close to him, so he can whisper in his ear. 

“was she always on the setlist?” sukuna asks. 

“don’t think so. i would have remembered that.” satoru mumbles back. 

Now he's thinkin' 'bout me every night, oh Is it that sweet? I guess so Say you can't sleep, baby, I know That's that me, espresso

Move it up, down, left, right, oh Switch it up like Nintendo Say you can't sleep, baby, I know That's that me, espresso 

sukuna supposes that it should be a bad sign that this is the second time in a few days that he finds himself being mesmerized by your presence.

and he figures that it’s a good sign that the two of you have ended up in the same room, at the same time – so he can make his case again. he could mastermind something if he thought about it hard enough. 

“dude. you’re like fucking drooling.” satoru  whispers. 

“shut the fuck up.” sukuna responds, shoving him to the side as he leans forward, trying to glean a closer look. 

past his line of vision, sukuna can spot three very irritated faces. jake, kim, and aimee – matching scrunched up irritation on their faces, each of them typing very fast on his phone. he knew enough about you to know what you were doing here – trying to spite them right to their faces. 

Too bad your ex don't do it for ya Walked in and dream came trued it for ya Soft skin and I perfumed it for ya I know I Mountain Dew it for ya That morning coffee, brewed it for ya One touch and I brand newed it for ya 

sukuna watches as you turn around, obscuring his sight of the three of them, and look right at him. sukuna can’t help but do it again, absentmindedly lift his hand to wave at you just like he did a few days prior – at the very least, just to get confirmation that you really are looking at him – just to get exactly what he wants. 

you wink back, sparing a laugh into the microphone as you stop singing and throw the sparkly microphone in your hand to one of your backup dancers. 

sukuna can feel his heart pounding in his chest – no, he can feel it drop to his stomach – as he watches you pull the pink crewneck over your head, only to reveal that you’re wearing his jersey – the jersey with his last name embossed on the back – underneath. 

it’s one of the most overwhelming feelings he’s had, a wholehearted and blissful exhilaration that pounds in his chest, coupled with the fact that there’s a resounding sound of cheers that erupt after the fact are music to his fucking ears. 

I'm working late 'cause I'm a singer Oh, he looks so cute wrapped around my finger My twisted humor, make him laugh so often My honey bee, come and get this pollen

Too bad your ex don't do it for ya Walked in and dream came trued it for ya Soft skin and I perfumed it for ya I know I Mountain Dew it for ya That morning coffee, brewed it for ya One touch and I brand newed it for ya

“you’re such a dick. you weren’t going to tell us all that you guys were dating?” satoru asks. 

sukuna swallows hard.

did this mean that the two of you were dating? 

“hey, earth to fucking dumbass. are you so mesmerized that you can’t form a sentence?” suguru  asks, joining him at his side, the tone in his voice teasing as sukuna shakes his head. 

sukuna can’t even muster an irritated look to give back to satoru. or a retort back to suguru. only because he’s too elated, too excited that you’ve agreed with his plan – if that’s what this meant. 

“who fucking wouldn’t be mesmerized by that?” sukuna mutters. 

“that’s real cute, dude. the espresso thing.” suguru states. 

“what espresso thing?” sukuna asks. 

“you know. because you own the coffee shop and shit? isn’t that what she means?” suguru asks. 

of course that’s what you meant. 

if there was one thing he learned from the interviews and songs that he listened to, it was that you didn’t do things haphazardly. that every move that you made was intentional, because you knew people would connect the dots.

meaning, that at the very least, you were acting in his favor right now. and had agreed to be his girlfriend. 

sukuna can feel his heart pounding as you give one last wave to the cheering crowds, yanking your ear pieces out and letting them hang around your shoulders as you walk up to him. the sweet grin that you give him is one that sukuna can’t help but return. 

he’s so happy he might just kiss you on the spot right now. 

you place your hands behind your back as you give sukuna a sweet smile. only to turn immediately to his left and look at satoru. he can't help but feel dejected.

“hi.” you state. 

he watches as satoru spits the gatorade back into the bottle, before standing up and running his hands through his hair. sukuna narrows his eyes at satoru and prays to god that this isn’t the time that he chooses to be an idiot. 

“hi?” 

you extend your hand out.

“i’m y/n.” 

there’s a sudden irritation in sukuna’s chest that suddenly festers when satoru lifts your knuckles to his lips and presses a kiss against your hand. 

“satoru. satoru gojo.” he responds. 

you give him a smile. 

“cute.” 

you try not to relish in the way that sukuna clicks his tongue in his cheek, trying his best to hide his frustration, as you look up at satoru. 

“to be honest, i kind of came here with an ulterior motive.” you state. 

“my favorite kind of motive.” satoru responds. 

you walk over to satoru’s side, linking your hand in with his as you stand in between him and sukuna and point to the other side of the court. 

“you see that empty black seat right there?” 

“next to aimee lynch?” 

“that’s my seat.” 

satoru looks down at you, as he leans forward.

“we can’t have you sitting there.” he whispers. 

“only if you insist.” you offer. 

satoru puts his bottle down and you watch as he retreats to the other side to retrieve the chair, as you turn over to sukuna and give him a bright grin. you can tell that sukuna’s making his best efforts to glare at you, but the smile on his face is deceiving him. 

“hi lavagirl.” you state. 

sukuna grins in response. 

“her hair is a little more neon than mine, but it’s always a pleasure, sharkboy.” sukuna responds. 

you give him a smile, noting the flashing cameras at your side, as you bring your hands forward, holding the sharpie up in between the two of you. 

“what’s this?” sukuna asks. 

“i got one of the last jerseys. it wasn’t signed.” you ask. 

sukuna feigns shock, crouching down so that the two of you could be eye to eye. it’s the first time that you think about how much taller he is than you. 

“my poor baby. we can’t have that, now can we?” sukuna jests. 

you shake your head as sukuna smiles, taking the pen from your fingers, before signaling for you to turn around with his pointer finger. 

and it makes you shiver as he places one of his hands on your shoulder, taking the time to move the hair to the side of your shoulder before scribbling on your back. and that burning warmth that pools in your stomach gets even worse as his breath tickles your neck, before he leans over and presses a kiss to the nape of your neck. 

“one thing.” he whispers. 

you swallow hard, the whisper in his voice sending a shiver down your spine. 

“what’s that?” 

you watch as satoru walks up, placing the chair right next to his, as you and sukuna shoot him a smile. 

“try to rile me up and it’ll be more than that next time.”

you turn around, rolling your eyes at him, as you stand on the tips of your toes, leaning against his shoulder as you press a lingering kiss to his cheek. you can feel people lifting their phones to take a picture from your peripheral vision, as you pull back. 

satoru returns with the chair and doesn’t return alone, because aimee and jake are right behind him, hands balled into fists at their side as they walk right up to the two of you. sukuna seems to get the hint at the same time as you do, as he wraps his hand around your waist, pulling you closer as they approach. 

“y/n. sukuna.” aimee states, acknowledging your presence as she crosses her hands over her chest. 

“what can i do for you, satan?” sukuna asks. 

“what the hell is this?” aimee asks. 

sukuna looks down at you, offering you a confused look, before looking back at her. 

“me congratulating my girlfriend after her performance? what the fuck does it look like?” sukuna asks. 

girlfriend. you can tell that the word doesn’t roll over well, with either of them. but it sends the blood rushing right to your head, the warmth blooming in your cheeks.

“girlfriend? you’ve got to be fucking kidding.” aimee scoffs. 

“do i look like i’m kidding to you?” sukuna deadpans. 

“this is how you repay me after everything i did for you?” aimee asks. 

sukuna gives her a confused look. 

“what the hell did you do for me? besides give me a herpes scare?” 

you laugh into your hand, particularly at the fact that jake’s eyes go wide at his words. 

“i’d get checked if i were you dude. you never know.” sukuna adds, giving jake a smile. 

aimee turns over to you, pointing an accusatory finger your way, as she gives you a cold glare, a glare that you’ve seen hundreds of time, one that you used to cower to at one point. 

“you better watch yourself.” 

“she’s fine where she is. i’d suggest you fuck off while you’re ahead and quit embarrassing yourself the way you are.” sukuna responds. 

aimee rolls her eyes. 

“i hope that you know that i cheated on you with jake the entire time that we were together. while he was dating y/n.” aimee responds. 

sukuna laughs. 

“and i hope you know that i was never really into you in the first place. why would i be when she’s around?” sukuna responds back. 

you’re not sure if sukuna knows what he’s done. if he intentionally rubbed salt into the wound, into the exact wound that’s caused you so much pain at aimee's hands, but you can’t help but linger on it.

"don't forget that i was the one who broke up with you. not the other way around." sukuna states.

you ignore it. only because the pouty face that she makes as she retreats is one that fills you with so much joy, that has sukuna smiling down at you like he's the sun.

“do you want me to beat him up for you?” sukuna asks. 

“who, jake? he didn’t even say anything.” you respond. 

sukuna squints his eyes at you. 

“she just mentioned that he was cheating on you. and i’m figuring it’s with the last person that you would have wanted it to be.” 

“i mean. yeah.” you respond. “i’ll repeat. do you want me to beat him up?” sukuna asks. 

you shrug. 

“eh. not worth the trouble. sure his ego is bruised enough as it is.” 

sukuna narrows his eyes at you again, the whistle of the referee sending him back to the court as he presses one last kiss to your knuckles and you take a seat on the chair on the side of the court that satoru pulled up for you.

you aimlessly scroll through the texts on your phone. 

[mika]: WTF WERE YOU GUYS TALKING ABOUT 

[mika]: BRO SHE LOOKED SO PISSED

[hisu]: you’re so right he IS KIND OF CUTE

[hisu]: also song was TEWWW GOOD. you’re so beautiful i love you so much don’t ever die.

[eren]: I don’t see it. 

[mika]: shut up eren 

[megs]: Are you dating, Sukuna?

[megs]: I didn't even realized that you guys knew each other.

you look up from your phone to focus back on the game, only to find you’ve started paying attention at an opportune time. because you swear sukuna sticks his leg out to trip jake, sending him falling right to his face right as he runs past.

your suspicions are confirmed when sukuna gets flagged for it. you can tell that he doesn't seem to care too much, only because the smile on his face betrays him.

--

--

an: two dream girl chapters oopsie

taglist: @porridgesblog @k0z3me @sugu-love @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @gojoswifeyyys-world @cutiejg @chilichopsticks @timmytimmytuckyy @dreamxiing @mamamamamarga @skunabby @meisque @hoseokslefteyebrow @thepurpleempath @shrimphutao4ever @monic19 @najaemism @haitanibros0007 @catobsessedlady @luvs4kim @ri-sa20 @thejujvtsupost @invisible-mori @satoruslpipbalm @kyo-kyo1 @telepathicheartss @huhsthccvjh @sxnkuna @w31rdg1rl @lilalia3945 @multiplefandomthings @shotovhs @voids-universe @timetobegone @deeeeexx @livelovelaughisagiyochi @pelicanpizza @cowgirlikets @jeon-blue @phantomasmaniac @yoontaedotin @cowgirlikets @estrella-novella @theauthorunicorn @catastayy @ryumurin @kindadolly @th0tformikasa @r0ckst4rjk @you-always-made-me-blush @leave-rae-alone @lemonnotade @firelordazulaaaa @stuffeddeer

[reasonreblogs]

Same for both. The thing with explaining the reasons with an apology for me is part of the “I recognize how this action was wrong and how I ended up doing this thing that hurt you. I will be making an effort to stop this behavior. I hope you feel okay calling me out on it going forward. I want to assure you that I am aware of what I did, why I did it, that I am going to be working on it, that this hurt you, and that I’m sorry I did this.”

To me the reasons and why it happened shows that they understand and how likely they are to keep doing the same things or if thy ran it, that kind of thing. I’ve had someone who was basically overdosing on Xanax day spent the most horrible shit to me, hitting every insecurity I had about our friendship and after the fact *not* apologize and just said something like “I didn’t reply mean it, I just said crazy shit because I was prescribed a higher dose of Xanax than a person should be.”

Like… okay, I get that… and… it would mean something if you said “I’m sorry, I know it hurt you and I said a lot of things I knew would hurt most. I didn’t know I was prescribed higher dose than I should’ve been until recently and it really fucked with my head in a way that I wasn’t myself.” Instead, I wasn’t sure if she actually meant what she said looking back or if she’d do it again only without her mind being fucked up.

She gave the reason without the apology which made it an excuse and a “so you can’t be upset with anything I said” when she could scroll back and see exactly the things she said to me even if she didn’t quite remember. However, with an apology, I would be able to believe she didn’t mean it and was in a state of mind where she was actively looking to be as hurtful as possible rather than actually believing hat she said. It’s kind of like how some people go turn out to be suicidal try to make everyone around them hate them before going through with it under the notion it’d “hurt less” when it happens. I think of one or two popular youtubers who did exactly that, posting outrageous bigoted shit before disappearing and after hearing they killed themselves, it clicked that’s what they were doing.

As for the telling a story for how thy relate (as I did above actually lol) it’s like… “listen here’s a thing I went through… to me it sounds like what you’re going through, so I hope what I did to get through it helps or if talking to someone who might understand better makes you feel okay talking about this.”

It’s like… it adds some weight or legitimacy to what the person you’re talking to is saying for me. I’d be more likely to take their advice or reflect on how I handle or perceive it vs how they might have. When someone isn’t grasping at all what you’re saying, it turns into defending why you’re feeling and going through rather than being able to just… talk about it.

Idk, been thinking on the nuance of this for a while. I like reasons, I like getting an idea on if this will happen again or not. There’s just a lot of “depends on the person/situation” tho.

[turtle-steverogers]

i rlly like ur posts abt how steves rough time with his dad as a little kid affects him later in life. i was wondering do u think the other avengers notice? and if they do what do you think they think/do about it?

also tbh i rlly like ur posts in general lol. i hope you have a good day!

I think the other Avengers notice after some time, considering most of them have similar experiences. I imagine it's sort of an unspoken thing, but it's almost... more notable on Steve, because he's so goddamn young and because when he wakes up from the ice, he's so goddamn stretched thin, that the reserves he usually has to shove all those old habits into a box are low. He's jumpy, the others notice. A raised voice-- especially male-- makes him flinch before he smooths out his face. Making requests is hard for him, and mistakes-- even small ones-- are met with scrambling apologies and frantic attempts to fix the problems.

No one says anything, because they know what it's like, and they don't want him to feel cornered. But there's a hard mission, and he and Natasha are alone in a motel room, and Steve is so clearly low. Kids had been involved. And Natasha had seen the way Steve had shut down to see the marks and bruises on the little boy and girl they'd gotten out of a trafficking situation, and she understood. Albeit for different reasons, but at the core, the pain was the same. They'd both just been kids when they were hurt. Young and lost and wondering what they'd done to deserve the grown ups around them squashing them down and making them feel no better than the dirt.

He doesn't say anything, so she doesn't either. But that night, she can't sleep, and neither can he, and when she hears him shift, roll over. Curl onto his side as the silent tears start, she can't stand it anymore.

Her bed creaks as she slides out, ignoring the rough crunch of the carpet as she pads over to Steve's bed and climbs in behind him.

She crawls onto the bed behind him, stretching out. "Can I hold you?" she whispers. Steve shrugs. He doesn't care. He doesn't understand why she would want to be the big spoon to his hulking frame, but if she wants to, he won't stop her. He's too tired to. He feels her wiggle close and slides an arm over his chest, hugging him flush against her. Her palm rests over his heart and she rubs, soothing.

It eases some of the weight. Some of the ache. He breathes, shaky. She kisses the back of his neck. It's quiet for a long time.

Natasha's voice is soft and private when she speaks. "It hurts, what they did to us, doesn't it?"

Steve freezes, listening. Natasha holds on. He doesn't move her.

"Why would anyone treat children that way? Hurt them that way?"

Steve clenched his jaw, resignation in his gut. "How could you tell?"

Natasha sighs. "I put it together, more or less."

Steve nods and doesn't say anything. It's quiet here, outside the city. The world dark and lacking that telltale bustle. Steve hates it.

"It's alright that you're hurting still," Natasha continues, and Steve wants to beg her to stop, but he's too curious, too desperate for someone to see him that he doesn't. "It's okay that you're still scared. You're safe, darling... you don't have to believe that yet."

He starts to tremble.

"Shh, baby, hey," she soothes and her voice is easy to stomach. Easy to understand. "Breathe for me."

He sucks in a deep breath.

"Did they hit you in the Red Room?" he asks.

"Sometimes," Natasha says. "It was calculated, though. Discipline."

Discipline. Steve doesn't think his father meant for his hits to be discipline. They were just... correction. To get him to shut up. Or maybe so he could get his anger out.

"Breathe," Natasha reminds again. Steve takes another measured breath. "You don't have to tell me anything. But you can. I won't get it all, but I might understand."

Steve considers that. "How old were you? When it started?"

"I don't remember," Natasha said. "Very young. Four, maybe? You?"

"I don't remember either," Steve whispers, and he's furious. Suddenly, he wants to set the world on fire. For the little girl who just wanted a chance to see the sunshine, and for the little boy who just wanted to play. "Maybe the same."

They fall back into silence. Steve can feel his teeth chattering. Natasha starts humming a song, simple and soothing under her breath. He knows he doesn't have to say anything else; she understands. He lets his eyes fall shut again.

[goodlucktai]

raised on little light (1/3)

rise of the tmnt word count: 2k pairing: leo & oc i've had this idea rattling around since the rise farewell comic earlier this year made it canon that the turtles had another brother and a sister floating around somewhere. we know who their sister is, so this is my take on that 5th brother. i hope you enjoy meeting him <3 big thank you to @soldrawss and @mykimouser for enabling my insane behavior (and thank you again to sol for drawing the art i included in this chapter!!!) title borrowed from northern attitude by noah kahan read on ao3

x

2020

Leo regretted his last words as soon as they left his mouth.

“Hero moves are totally your style”? As if Raph doesn’t have enough issues already.

But what he meant—what he would have tried to explain if there was time—was that Raph is his hero. He’s always been Leo’s hero. And if Leo could be anything like him, even for a second, even if it was the last thing he ever did, then he could be satisfied with that. 

It’s a silly thing to be stuck thinking about, laying on a torn up chunk of earth with a monster ominously lumbering somewhere below, looking for where it threw its toy. Laying there, feeling every bruise and broken bone, and hoping that he didn’t hurt his big brother’s feelings.

They’ll be okay, Leo thinks, trying to make it be the thing that gives him courage instead of just more homesickness. They’ll miss me, maybe for a long time, but they’ll be okay.

Leo’s supposed to be fighting for his life, but it’s all he can do to keep a grip on the photo in his hand, the only thing in this entire dimension worth holding onto. It’s all he can do to keep his eyes open when every blink is longer than the last. 

It feels like enough of a rebellion. The Krang looked annoyed that he was still breathing the last time it batted him through the void like a fly, which gives Leo the idea that he should probably be dead by now. He feels a detached sort of pride at how grown-up he’s being about all this. Better late than never

Leo waits for the Krang to come for him, dripping his blood and sneering his daddy’s nickname for him hatefully as it does, and hopes he made his family proud. 

Leo hopes he’ll go wherever Gram-gram is. It would be nice to know someone when he gets there. 

Movement in his periphery snags Leo’s attention. His brain starts throwing up warning flags, signaling danger—anything moving around in here is another parasite, or a Krang hound, nothing he’ll want to be sprawled out on a silver platter for—but he can’t summon any urgency. 

He turns his head and finds himself looking up at another turtle. 

It’s the very last thing he expected to see. They both just stare at each other for a moment. 

The newcomer appears to be a few years older than Leo, based on the broadness of their shoulders, and half a head taller. Their skin is more gray than green and their plastron is so pale it’s closer to white than yellow. Their carapace, what Leo can see of it, is a deep blue-black and they’re covered, skin and shell both, in white spots. Two of the spots on their face give the impression of eyebrows lowered in a glare, but they don’t seem angry at him.

The turtle is completely unfamiliar to Leo, which is saying something. He thought he and his family had the monopoly on… this whole situation. 

Disquieted, Leo remembers that he’s supposed to be the only turtle here. That was a very significant part of the decision he’d made. 

It must be a hallucination, he decides, instantly comforted by his own reasoning. That makes sense. He just wished that if his mind was going to conjure him some dying company it could at least be someone he knows. An imaginary Mikey or Donnie or Raphie for one last hug. One last affectionate forehead bonk. An “I still love you,” if that wasn’t asking too much. 

Don’t you cry now, he scolds himself sternly when his eyes start to blur and burn. It’s not about you. 

With a resounding crash of metal against stone, the Krang finds them at last. He’s snarling something that Leo is too slow to piece together before he cuts himself off—surprising the hell out of Leonardo by acknowledging the hallucination. That’s not how that works. 

“Another pest ,” the Krang hisses. His serrated teeth glint when he draws his gummy lips back in an ugly smile. His tone is oily and unpleasant when he adds, “You’re less colorful than those other ones. I would have remembered seeing you. Where were you when your accomplices were fumbling about in my Technodrome like the stupid creatures they are?”

“We won,” Leo reminds the alien, even though it makes him cough. His lips are warm and wet now but he won’t think about why. “Blew up your ugly ship. Who looks stupid now?” 

“Shut your mouth!” the Krang roars, going from slimy to homicidal in about three seconds. Leo cringes, every ounce of animal instinct in his body urging him to hide in his shell and ride the rest of this nightmare out. 

The spotted turtle snaps, “Don’t talk to him.” 

It would have made sense if he was looking at Leo when he said it. Don’t engage, don’t bait the big monster that could kill you with as much effort as it takes you to blink, et cetera ad nauseum. If only he’d had a nickel for every time he heard that. 

But instead the turtle is looking at the Krang, and he’s radiating the kind of cold-blooded murder that you mostly only see in movies. He has one arm flung out in front of Leo like he actually means to use it to stop the Krang from getting any closer. 

“Don’t even look at him,” he goes on, sounding seconds away from baring his teeth. 

This guy is significantly unaware of the danger he’s facing, and Leo ought to warn him about what enormous clusterfuck he’d just wandered into. Leo ought to say he appreciates the reptile solidarity, but you should definitely run, new guy. 

But this probably isn’t actually happening outside of his own head. And besides, Leo has to focus really hard on his numb fingers so he doesn’t drop his photo. 

“I’ll look where I please,” the Krang says, as unbothered by the hallucination as he was by Leo’s entire family. “Starting with that fool head of yours. I’m interested in whatever backdoor led you here. If it’s my way out, well —”

Adrenaline surges through Leo, and he’s hardly aware of moving before he’s lurching up and shouting out, “No!” 

He can’t get out, he can’t. Leonardo won’t be able to trick him again. He won’t be there to help this time. 

“I do have one thing for you,” the spotted turtle interrupts to say, reaching over his shoulder for what turns out to be a compound crossbow strapped to his back. 

Leo doesn’t know a lot about archery so it’s weird his fictional turtle does, crank-cocking the weapon like it’s an extension of his arm. He watches cluelessly as the turtle slides something very purple out of his jacket pocket and notches it into the groove where the bolts are supposed to go. It’s definitely not a bolt, but it’s a piercing-type projectile of some kind, and it fits in the crossbow like it was designed with crossbows in mind. 

The turtle aims the bow at the Krang, who clicks the claws of his metal suit on the ground the way Splinter would drum his fingers on the kitchen counter when he was waiting on the microwave. The Krang looks condescending and mildly curious, like he’s watching dumb little animals do something they’re not trained to do. 

“He told me to tell you he’s sorry he couldn’t be here to see this part,” the spotted turtle says, and then shoots without a second of hesitation or unnecessary dramatics. 

The Krang bats the projectile away, or tries to, but it explodes on contact with his armor, and suddenly all Leo can smell is burning metal. Then burning meat. 

The Krang begins to scream, clawing at something defiantly purple with a mind of its own that eats straight through him the effortless, immediate way corrosive acid chews through soft tissue. It moves like nanotech, covering as much of the Krang as possible in a manner of seconds and clearly designed to consume whatever it touches like a school of cartoon piranhas. 

Donnie would love it, color scheme and all. 

The Krang stumbles drunkenly, howling like a creature possessed, and Leo and his turtle companion both watch silently until he tips over the edge of the hunk of torn earth they’re on. Gravity is nonexistent in this dimension, so he doesn’t so much fall as sort of drift in another direction while he’s distracted with the purple stuff that’s doing its best to eat him alive. 

The last handful of minutes have been so bizarre that it’s actually going pretty far in convincing Leo that none of it happened for real. The Krang hasn’t actually found him yet. This is clearly a dream. Or a pre-death electrical storm as the neurons in his brain fire up to fizzle out.  

He tips his head to the side again to stare up at the archer, who is putting his bow away with perfect confidence that whatever that purple thing was, it will do the job. 

“Who are you?” Leo asks stupidly. 

“Gio,” the probably imaginary turtle replies.

Leo’s mouth runs off before he can stop it. “Just Gio? Like Cher?”

God, he thinks. That was stupid, Leo. Not the time or place, Leo. You’re in the prison dimension. You’re dying here and you can’t even cut the jokes now? Raph was so right about you.

But the imaginary turtle surprises him by smiling slightly, the corners of his mouth pulling just barely upwards in a way that somehow completely transforms him. Not the time or place for jokes or smiling at them but here they are. Like company.

“Giorgio Hamato,” ‘Gio’ says. That lands in Leo’s ears as something remarkably worth making a lot of noise over, but he can’t begin to unpack it. And after a second, he forgets what the remarkable part was. His mind is a deck of cards that got shuffled too enthusiastically and ended up scattered all over the floor. Gio doesn’t seem to mind when Leo just blinks at him, adding, “I’m here to take you home.”  

“Pretty sure Uber doesn’t come out this far,” Leo mumbles, the words a paint smear, all thick and wet and muddy. One of his teeth feels broken and it’s keeping him awake, a blistering ache that cracks through the back of his mouth like lightning. “And I’ve got, like, zero bars.”

This is how I cope, he thinks, watching the bigger turtle absorb the second bad joke in as many minutes. Leo’s blinking fast so he doesn’t cry. He’s trying to focus on anything but the pain radiating through his whole body, and the swallowing darkness all around him, and the ruins of ancient metal ships looming where they float unrestricted by gravity, and the ballistic howls of a pissed-off pink alien still dealing with whatever the heck this Gio guy did to him.

He can’t focus on any of that because all of that is scary and he’s already terrified. He needs to not be terrified because he doesn’t want to be that kind of ghost when he haunts his family. He wants to be the friendly, funny kind, the kind that gets to stay at the end of the movie, the kind that will make silly faces at Mikey so he doesn’t get scared, and leave sticky notes for Donnie to remember to charge his phone and drink enough water, and cover Raphie with an extra blanket while he’s asleep because it gets cold at night but he always leaves his bedroom door open for them.

If Leo’s friendly and funny, if he helps, he’ll get to stay. He didn’t get to stay the first time, so this time he has to make it stick.

Larger hands wrap around his. It doesn’t register for a second, and then it does in a big way.

Leo jerks his head up. Moving just that much hurts like his ribs are broken all the way down and the bones in his leg have all melted into liquid agony, but it clears some of the fog away.

Someone is holding his hands in the prison dimension.

An alien like the Krang wouldn’t know the first thing about the human gesture, the togetherness of it, so it’s not some mean trick that’s being played. And it can’t be an imaginary turtle that Leo dreamed up, after all, because kindness would be the last thing he’d give himself.

Possibly very real Gio says, “Fuck Uber. Whatever that is. And don’t repeat that word.”

The punchy breath Leo chokes in is going to punch out again as a laugh or a sob. Leo squeezes the bigger turtle’s hands, photo crinkling between them, suddenly tethered to something in this void and hysterically certain that he’ll die for real if Gio lets go.

“I’m sixteen.” Leo’s voice wobbles. He doesn’t know what to react to first. He doesn’t understand how this is happening. He holds on. “I can say the fuck word if I want to, I’m practically an adult.”

Gio’s face does something it hurts to look at. His eyes are dark and sincere, the shape of them entirely familiar. There’s a warmth inside him that permeates the gloom. A star belonging to a much larger galaxy, but more significantly, belonging to the same crooked constellation Leo belongs to.

I know you, he thinks, surprised by the truth of it. I do. Where have you been?

“We’re going home,” Gio says, the certainty in his voice like one of those huge stones a river parts around, unmoved by the currents and crashing water. “I know the way out. Don’t worry about it. Close your eyes.”   

The worst thing that could happen has already happened, Leo thinks. There’s no reason not to trust him. There’s nothing left to lose. He closes his eyes.

He feels himself drawn in, tucked against the built-in armor of a turtle chest, head resting on a broad shoulder. He’s been carried like this a million times before. He didn’t think it would happen again. Somewhere along the line, he’d been picked up for the last time and put down for the last time, and now he’s here, where no one who loves him can reach him, to scoop him up when he falls asleep on the sofa and take him to bed.

But Gio lifts him up like he’s still a kid. The Krang is bellowing hateful promises in between the grating shrieks of pain, promises of what he’ll do when he gets his hands on Leo, but all of that is far away. 

Leo isn’t afraid anymore. He isn’t going to be a ghost.

He’s pretty sure he’s going home.   

[thefusioncelestial]

Mix 8: The Rugged Pop Star

Anonymous asked:

Hello, Love your stories and I love the merge thing. Now, you see, I've got a huge crush on Charlie Puth and I was wondering if you could merge me with him? That would be awesome to be able to live that. I'm a pretty tall guy, kinda hairy on the chest, black hair and dark brown eyes. I wonder what I would look like after.

Can you help me? Your price will be mine!

Another successful show for the mega successful pop star:

Life is good, life is perfect, it would be.

Charlie found out about prowlers: celebrities born from jealous people forcibly assimilating the target of their ire & living the dream they worked so hard to obtain. He himself was almost a victim to this after a typical LA party. Some preppy kid wanted his fame for himself. Charlie knew that something had to be done. He needed a defense against this phenomenon.

With his money & connections, he able to find out how others are doing it. His heart sank. He would only need to do it once, but he would need to assimilate another. This would give him a natural defense against predation attempts on him, like a vaccine. But who? He would be taking away someone's right to live their life independently & of their own free will.

He heard of stories of celebrities losing it all, after choosing a member of their management team, it meant duties as a star in their field & the behind the scenes work load. He didn't want a super fan, the result could be extreme levels of narcissism, and that has ended the careers of many or destroyed their ability to form relationships.

"Here's your coffee sir," the intern chimed. He was tall, had black hair; lots of facial hair. His clothing choices hid his build, but he seemed a little skinnier than Charlie. Charlie had his choice. He would scope him out first.

The intern was a fan of his, but never confronted Charlie or tried to get an autograph. He was able to separate his own desires from his work. A strong work ethic. He didn't have any outwardly noticeable social media either, no mention that he works for a mega star. A strong work ethic, mature, and not using him for clout. Charlie could dig further and find a more perfect candidate, but he was shaken up. If it were not for the taser gun, someone else would be living his life, and Charlie would be stuck in them forever.

He called this intern to his dressing room. He didn't know what Charlie wanted, maybe to complain about the coffee, but he was happy nonetheless. After he came to the room, he was sat down by Charlie.

The intern was nervous at first, but Charlie explained the situation. He couldn't believe it, Charlie Puth wants me to be a part of him! The intern looked back at his life, university graduated, aside from his job as a part of Charlie Puth's crew, a new addition mind you, he had nothing remarkable going on. That is why he never blasted his job online: he wanted to keep this one. So he worked his hardest & kept his head down. And now he might be mixing his body & mind with his idol.

The intern agreed when Charlie was done. Charlie sighed that this was necessary & thanked him. He informed him that he wanted to do this now. The intern was shocked, now? He blushed. Ok, so be it. Promotion to Charlie Puth.

Charlie went and locked the door. The last thing he needed was for someone to walk in and get grabbed by his transforming self & adding to the result.

Charlie pulled out a flask with red liquid and drank it. He sat down in another chair. He hesitated. He apologized again and with his right hand bid the intern to come.

The intern, overjoyed, took off his shirt and jeans, revealing boxer briefs. He was about to go commando, but Charlie stopped him from doing that.

All they needed to do was touch skin and then press hard into Charlie. Let the process handle the rest. The intern was taller, and had a build similar to Charlie, only more cut. He was hairy too. Like all over. It was intimidating, no going back. Time to invest in better razors.

The intern got on his knees and then pressed his head against Charlie's chest. His head started to go in.

Charlie felt pressure, and a wave of liquid flow into him. Then pleasurable sensations. He didn't let out any moans or groans except from heavy breathing through his mouth. He didn't want to express the pleasures from assimilating others. Even if they consented. His face showed discomfort, like he was going to cry. And then it hit him.

As the intern entered, he liquidized. Within a few minutes his entire being was a slurry of liquid masses swimming throughout Charlie's body. The underwear fell the to ground. The intern entered Puth's brain, his mind. Charlie felt everything the intern was feeling, and so did the intern. As their minds merged, they reconciled their differences. Charlie's apprehension went away, he was at peace. His face changed to calm. He looked as if he was sleeping in the chair.

The mental traits that didn't become a dominate part of Charlie's mind went into his subconsciousness. From the intern's prospective, he was floating in an peaceful abyss. He would hear Charlie's thoughts, feel what he felt emotionally & physically, see what Charlie sees, and on occasion push Charlie's decisions in one direction or another; just a little. He was Charlie Puth now, small part of the whole.

Charlie's body was rife with activity. The liquid mass of the intern moved through out, looking like big lumps under beneath his skin. Pulsating fast and randomly.

The intern's dna latched on to Charlie's. Puth's new dna then fired off. The mass began to settle and in act new changes. Charlie could feel each one, but all he could do was open his mouth wide open & clutch his hands to the arm rest of the chair he was sitting in, and crunch his toes.

He could feel muscles pop, and in other places, his skin constrict. His bones stretch. His hair darken. And then his face morphed. As if a layer of skin toned smooth clay was covering his face, the intern's facial traits settled in. It was if the intern was a sculptor, and with care & precision molded his new face, dyed his hair.

The intern was a hairy man, and when the merger was focusing on his face, hair started to erupt all over. But as if Charlie was standing next to his new body, as if with a pair of scissors, began to cut away the hair. The body & facial hair began to shrink. Finding a happy medium between Charlie's original bare skin & the intern's wall of hair.

The process was over. Charlie let out a deep exhale and closed his mouth. He opened his eyes.

He was a new man.

But what has he become? Can he still sing?

He looked at the dressing room mirror.

He was taller, and more muscular. He wasn't fat or overweight beforehand, but the intern gave him that push. A six pack was more visible, but he kept his mass. His arms were more vascular. Was he a pop star or a bodybuilder?

His arms and shoulders grew too, a thicker neck. Did he really merge with someone, it felt like he just went to the gym more or dieted better. His brushed his hand against his chest.

Body hair?

He had hair on his forearms, on his chest and abs, and in the face. Sideburns that connected to his new beard & mustache. His hair was darker too, & more voluminous.

His mouth was smaller, and his nose moved more upright, but the lower mouth generally followed his original shape. His ears & skull were longer. But his eyes? A mix of his and the intern. More the interns. The signature cut above his right eye was gone.

He wiped his face, scrupled his hair.

The intern's personal history. It was melded to his. He knew partly why he was big now, his was practicing judo beforehand.

He wanted to feel the fresh air now with his new body. He changed into the underwear & shorts of his fusee and then went outside for a jog:

It was exhilarating. He was stronger, faster, had more stamina. He could see why people get assimilated. But this is it. No more. Too many, and the original me will be gone & buried. A monster hunger for more power.

He went back to the dressing room and used the secret shower within. He changed his clothes. Everyone addressed him as Charlie. No one knew the difference. When he asked for the intern & described him, no one knew what he was talking about. Scary.

He went to his vocal coach and tested out his singing voice. He sounded more mature, but kept his perfect pitch abilities. And now he could kick butt too.

[dukeofankh]

Totally understandable! I'm not trying to tear down the work of doing that, and the fact that you're already gearing up for house and Senate races is the right thing. I'm in Canada; we're looking at an election next year where the Conservative party is currently like, twenty points ahead and doing a massive advertising blitz despite the fact that the election hasn't even been announced yet. I am also in this "how do we do good and affect the political world and not slip into despair" problem solving mode.

What I am speaking out against is a totally different kind of post. You know the posts. You've seen the posts. The ones where people in the grips of that despair say they're washing their hands of men and it'll be on men to fix each other from now on, because men clearly all hate women and won't listen to them anyway. I don't presume your response is coming from that place, and my analysis of why that reasoning diverges from the reality of the situation a lot of the time isn't meant to urge you back towards despair. It's to try and veer us away from splintering and towards working together, because I don't want to live in a right-wing country any more than you do.

And we do have the best vision of the future for men. And women. And everyone. We can push for radical change. The right clearly can. We can too.

If your vision for the deradicalization of right-wing men begins and ends with "other men telling them that that's gross and to stop it" then I'm sorry, you do not understand how masculinity works.

"Men who hold patriarchal status" and "men who are feminists" are two groups who overlap less than you want them to. I'm sorry. That's not solely because men are so happy with patriarchal status that they don't want to risk it by policing misogyny/queerphobia/racism, It's because being misogynistic, queerphobic, and racist, end expressing other forms of toxic masculinity(and often abusively so) are part of how people establish and maintain patriarchal status. The men who have the ability to stop this via nothing but peer pressure are the very people who are doing it. That's by design. And engaging in feminist intervention is, in and of itself, usually the abrupt end of that status and its associated power to persuade misogynistic men.

Like, I have worked in blue collar jobs as a notably queer person. It was pretty much a constant deluge of verbal abuse. In my experience, most blue collar work environments are exploitative, abusive, and bigoted, and very gleefully so. On the occasions I have spoken up about someone saying something that was super fucking out of line (asking me which of the girls walking by was hottest. We were installing a portable classroom at a middle school), believe it or not, they completely failed to be shamed! Because nobody else on the crew gave a fuck. *I* was the weird one. They ghosted me. A full blown company ghosted me. I suddenly didn't have a job anymore because they just straightforwardly stopped telling me where the next job site was.

Like, this doesn't mean that it's your job to do it, but this vision you have of these big groups of men where everyone is on the fence and there is precisely one shit stirrer who can be shut down by a brave feminist man who can single handedly set the example for all these other guys...you are high. You are describing an "everybody clapped" level absurd scenario. Most of these truly virulent misogynistic guys either have zero friends, because, you know, our society is atomized to fuck, or they are in a group where the feminist guy is actually the weirdo who can be shut down and ostracized much, much easier than the misogynists, because there is no such thing as a man misogynists respect who stands up for women.

You might be saying "well, we're talking about longstanding personal relationships, actually. Like, they need to have to want to spend time with you and then, as a side effect, you can mind control them out of being a threat to us."

Problem with that being:

1: Many feminist men also have no friends, see the atomized society above.

2: Feminist men already stopped hanging out with men who make rape jokes because why the fuck would we want to spend time with them.

3: That isn't just because we respect women so hard. We are in many cases talking about men who are also deeply queerphobic, heirarchical, violent and abusive to other men. What initially drew me to feminism and women was a lack of heirarchical squabbling and constant bullying, and the ability to be openly queer. A lot of men who came to feminism did so because they knew that the patriarchy was not a place they would find success or acceptance. These are not the men who are gonna be able to change right wing minds.

4. Men do not view themselves as a monolith. There is no universal brotherhood of men. The actual meaning of the term "Fragile masculinity" is that men are constantly expected to prove that they are deserving of the status of being a member of their own gender. There are large swathes of men--including most of the men who you'd look to as examples of good, feminist men who you want to undertake this project--who are considered failed men, sissies, f****ts, soyboys, ect. They are. Not. Going. To. Convince. These. Men. Of. Jack. Shit. Much less successfully *shame* them. Jesus.

I know all of this sucks. I know it would be cool to be able to just point at a group and have them be responsible for the work. But nah. It's gonna have to be a societal project, one that will probably outlast all of us. Sorry. The thing you want these men to do is, absolutely, the morally correct thing to do. But presuming that it would be effective is, and once again I am so sorry about this, just ignorance of how these social groups function.

[idkwhatimdoingbutslay]

Vi and her Counterpart’s Violence

Okay so as soon as I saw this scene in s2e3, I was immediately reminded of this scene in s1e6

Vi sees someone she loves, someone she perceives as innocent and in dire need of protection, being so comfortable with violence. She doesn’t have a problem with violence, if anything she uses it as a tool, but she has a problem with certain other people doing the same. Why should they be so violent when she has it handled? When she is meant to be the violent one, shielding them from getting to that level?

Caitlyn and Jinx are never beating the mirror allegations

In both scenes, Vi calls out her counterpart’s name multiple times. But, of course, instead of calling Jinx by her chosen name, she calls her Powder. And instead of calling Caitlyn by her given name, she calls her Cait. ‘Jinx’ represents Vi’s greatest failure, the opposite of who Powder is meant to be, while ‘Caitlyn’ seems represent privilege and power, the two major things enabling Caitlyn to act in such an opposite way to how she’s ‘meant’ to. ‘Caitlyn’ is who everyone else knows. They know Caitlyn Kiramman. Vi knows Cait. Vi knows her Cupcake. (Still a little confused on why we haven’t heard that at all this season?)

Violence is Vi’s. It’s hers because she refuses for it to be her counterpart’s. Of course, we’ve said this a million times: Vi is a protector first and foremost. A protector fails when their protectee is exposed to the weight on the protector’s shoulders. Vi was never meant to be innocent and she never seems to resent that, all she does is take it as a challenge that has no failing option.

In both seasons, Vi was pulled away from the situation and everything was interrupted. But, at least in s2, she got to talk to Caitlyn after. The problem is that there was such an obvious disconnect. It doesn’t matter if there was a kid, Caitlyn would have gotten the shot. It doesn’t matter if Caitlyn would have gotten the shot, there was a kid. (Although, I do think this whole kid thing is interesting after seeing how Vi feels about collateral damage when Jayce killed that Chembaron’s child. Maybe after seeing the council explosion, Caitlyn’s grief and that same Chembaron plan a terrorist attack, she’s changed her mind?)

Vi gets to view violence as a necessity. Vi gets to choose when violence is right or wrong, not who she’s supposed to be protecting. Vi gets to find comfort in violence, not who she’s supposed to be protecting.

Vi begging Caitlyn not to change isn’t just about everyone else in her life changing, it’s about forcing her own position to change as well when she finds so much comfort in it.

Anyway, I just think the parallels between these scenes are pretty cool and also getting to see Vi on the receiving end of violence from who she’s meant to be protecting is so interesting. I do wish the parallels were hammered home a little bit more because the scene in s1, you could really see it in Vi’s face and hear it in her voice how fearful she was of seeing Powder like that throughout the whole scene, while the fight scene felt a little short and the argument after left me wanting a bit more! Even tho I did appreciate the intensity of Caitlyn saying Jinx’s blood is in Vi’s veins and Vi saying Caitlyn is the one acting like her and all Caitlyn can respond with is violence, further proving Vi’s point and hurting her even more. I appreciate it all, but I hate to say that it feels like it’s missing something! I think what I wanted to hear from Vi was more than ‘It’s a kid!’ I wanted Vi to try to wake Caitlyn up, cry to her about her and Powder’s childhood’s, throw Caitlyn’s argument about ‘the cycle of violence’ back at her. But we didn’t get that.

[dilatorywriting]

I feel we are all super mean to the reader with Siren Vil??? Are they actually stupid or is it just that they can’t understand what’s going on? Which is kinda valid considering their situation?

I mean it has to be hard for them, right? Not only do they have trouble communicating with THEIR world since they are almost 100% deaf, but then you have the extreme cultural differences of trying to communicate with someone who exists in what is basically from a completely DIFFERENT world (part of your world reference anyone?).

I just feel like, while they may not be a genius or anything, it’s kind of mean to be expecting them to know what’s going on when they have so much working against them. We’re calling them stupid for not understanding that the necklace was a courting gift and that the siren would come back for them… why would they think that?

They could tell the necklace meant more to the siren than they thought it should have and it made the siren more friendly, but why would that equate to what is basically marriage and never leaving them behind? And the reader knows the siren wants to get back to his pod really badly. While they became friends and got attached, that wouldn’t mean he would come back to help the reader. Of course the reader is going to see a ship and try to get off of where they were marooned.

As dumb as the reader CAN be sometimes (like when they took a bite of the cooked crab without removing its shell 🤦‍♀️) I really don’t think they’re THAT stupid. They’re just… on the level of someone who was probably an uneducated kid when they snuck aboard a pirate ship and never looked back and now they’re an adult. You mentioned in one chapter I believe that Riddle taught them to read I think? Or something?

I LOVE this story, don’t get me wrong. At all. Ever. I adore it.

The fact that I’m even here hanging out on the author’s blog shows how much I love it - and your other writing. I guess it’s just been getting to me a little how we all seem to slam Siren Vil’s reader so much. Maybe I’m just making mountains out of molehills. Maybe you’re just being sarcastic and I’m missing the cues because I’m neurodivergent and I do that sometimes. If so I’m sorry.

To end on a good note, I’m really happy you’re back and are doing better. I know how much brains can suck. If your demons are too mean to you, just send Reaper Rook after them. He’ll take care of them for you, I’m sure of it! 💚🖤

I think it’s mostly said out of love, like how when you pick up a cat to give it cuddles and call it a stinky lil garbage gremlin even though you would die for that creature. The Reader in this is someone I try to write as having inconsistent levels of intelligence. Great planner, great at setting goals and reaching them, but TERRIBLE emotional intelligence all around. Not just in Siren Language. Just overall is blind to a lot going on around them. And yes, the added layer of communication difficulties certainly don’t help, but this is a reader I fully see as one who even *if* they had super sight, hearing, and intellect would still be missing the point of things simply because they’re stubborn in their perception and lock onto that One Thing rather than being willing to see the bigger picture. Even when the evidence is staring them right in the face. Which is why we lovingly call them a big ol doofus.

[ramblinscramblin]

→ General kissing headcanons!

Genre: fluff! GN reader

Characters: all mercenaries

Requested by me! First one of these, still getting a feel for writing for a lot these characters so forgive me if it’s ooc, I try my hardest! Enjoy!

Scout

Spends more time talking about kissing then actually doing it, psychs himself out a lot of time, may end up not even being able to do it.

He’s a nervous wreck when it comes to initiating physical contact, you’ll have to initiate most of the kisses most of the time (hehe).

Will pretend it’s you who’s nervous though, even if that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

“Look at you, you’re tremblin’ in your seat! Maybe some other night…” he said once, throwing an uncaring arm around the back of the couch.

“Scout, I’m not nervous… are you?” You pause for a moment, scanning his burning face ��you are!”

“Nah! I’m not! What’s there to be nervous ’bout? Who even friggin’ cares not me! I’m relaxed!” He shouted as he quickly jumped to his feet “forget this! Im leavin’!”

Despite his reservations, once the two of you actually get into it, he warms up nicely. The anticipation is really what drives him crazy.

Scout definitely grabs at you whenever you two kiss, whatever he can reach really, your hips, jaw, neck, hands, thighs, whatever is closest.

Most of Scouts kisses are good natured, short, and sweet, he interrupts himself often to start a new train of thoughts. Extremely chatty during make out sessions, it’s almost endearing.

Deeper kisses are a pretty dangerous game for him, so he tends to keep that behavior for the bedroom.

Enjoys a good kiss on his forehead, would fucking die before he admitted that though.

Demoman

Really easy lover in pretty much every regard.

Demoman is looking for a good time, all the time, so long as you treat him with respect, kisses are pretty hard not to come by.

He’s almost always the one to make the first move (usually using a little bit of liquid courage to put a pep in his step).

“Yer lookin’ right as ever, wasna mor’ bonny cunt all night,” he said with a massive grin.

Sometimes it was a little hard to understand what he was saying, his facial expression usually tells you whether he means “cunt” in a negative or positive way. Clearly he is more than well intentioned.

“I’m… sorry,” you apologize with a gentle laugh “what was that?”

He placed a soft kiss right on the side of your mouth “I meant you look good, laddie/lassie.”

After that he pretty much kisses you all the time whenever for whatever.

LOVES IT when you take the reins though and kiss him, he always scoops you up and gives a big laugh, making a huge spectacle out of it.

Lots of drunk making out, I don’t make the rules.

Kisses you wherever you let him, no real preference, but loves to kiss your cheek and you his.

Solider

Solider is honestly a pretty hard read for me.

I feel like Solider takes most his cues from you, if you’re shy and nervous, he tends to act the same, if you’re confident and assertive, so is he.

Surprisingly, doesn’t take the lead very often, prefers if you tell him what you want, he hates reading social situations, especially when he tends to fail so often.

“Hey Solider,” you greet warmly one day.

“Hello maggot!” Strangely, despite the antagonistic nature of the nickname he still salutes you as you approach.

The two of you stand silently for a moment, before inevitably asking your most burning question “wanna make out?”

“Affirmative,” he said enthusiastically.

Most things with Solider are pretty simple, he’s a no nonsense fellow, he likes things to be American, and straight forward.

Kisses from him are always really fulfilling and deep, he likes kissing you before and after battle for “good luck”.

Kisses you on the back your neck and shoulders whenever they’re out, he loves that tender shit.

He likes to be taken seriously in his romances, no jokes during those times.

Always grabs the nape of your neck, almost always pulls away smiling. He’s a sweet heart.

Pyro

Pyro loves kisses.

Always secretly angling for them, anyway they can.

Pyro came up to you early one morning, a plate full of… what may at some point been then cinnamon buns saved in the communal fridge, but now were burnt to a crisp.

“Oh… is this for me! Thank you,” you smiled politely, taking the plate in your hands.

“Hudda hudda!” Mumbled Pyro happily, hands clasped in excitement.

You leaned forward and place a soft kiss on the side of their mask.

Pyro was so geeked and giddy, they didn’t even realize that you had discarded the cinnamon buns behind your back.

Big cartoony kisses on their mask, make a big show of it, with a loud “mwah!” As you pull away, they’re already melting.

Most kisses come when Pyro and you are cuddling, which is also a frequently required assignment from Pyro.

Every time they kiss you, you can hear a very muffled and yet extremely enthusiastic smecking sound from inside their mask.

Spy

Spy is headstrong with romance, never the kind of guy to pull his punches. He’s so charming though that you may not even notice.

He’s a gentleman, so there is actually a lot that has to happen before he is willing to kiss you.

Lots of flirting and courting, everything, the entire nine yards. Makes you feel like royalty. First date also needs to happen before he kisses you.

“I can pull out my own seat, Spy,” you scold a little half heartedly.

Spy just stares at you, half offended for a moment before saying “don’t speak nonsense, mon amor! It’s bad luck!”

You hardly lift a finger during the entire date, even goes as far as feeding you, ends the night with an incredibly scenic walk back home and a kiss under the New Mexico moonlight.

Once kissing becomes regular for the two of you… it still almost always treated like a first kiss. Passionate, polite, loving. Spy is honestly so dreamy when he’s courting someone.

Doesn’t take much to bring out his hungrier side though, craves your kisses a little too insatiably at times. He just cannot get enough of you!

Hand kisses, constant hand kisses. Holds your hand often so it is easy to quickly bring to his lips for a quick peck.

Sniper

Sniper may take the longest to convince out of all of them.

I mean you can rush into it and kiss him unexpectedly, but really you’d be shooting yourself in the foot. Plus Sniper deserves to be worked for.

Spending constant quality time takes a lot of effort, but it’s what is required to get him even close to comfortable with the idea of kissing someone.

Tends to stay out of the romance scene, things can get messy in his profession he doesn’t want to drag anyone else into it.

But oh god he thinks about it constantly, especially when you start hanging around more and more, too strict on policy to admit it.

But if it’s technically your idea? Well… it wouldn’t exactly be very polite to decline now would it?

You’re sitting with him around a campfire, shoulder to shoulder on a log he cut a little too short (definitely not on purpose).

“So… quiet night,” you say, peeking up at him with a crooked smile.

“Uh, yup. That’s right,” he said quietly, staring down at you intensely.

Your eyes darted to his lips for just a second, but that was more than enough, you two were locked together for over an hour.

Acts awkward around you almost every single time you kiss him, not matter how long it’s been. He just cannot seem to get used to it. Don’t bring it up though, it will put him off.

Kissing snipes is rewarding every damn time because of how hard you have to work for it.

He likes to whisper sweet nothings between kisses, don’t acknowledge it, in fact don’t acknowledge any of it (Mick does not want to be perceived).

Kisses your temple, frequently. Loves if you pick up the same habit.

Engie

Engie is a fiend for physical affection, it’s a secret you’re not supposed to know about it though.

Finds kissing to be the most important part of a relationship, really values the whole intimacy of it.

Even despite that I imagine that he’s not really flashy about his approach with how to get kisses, talks around it mostly, making jokes and jabs about it.

Engie is probably the most emotionally intelligent out of all the mercs, so he’ll work up the courage eventually just give him a minute or two.

“So… we’ve been gettin’ pretty close, havin’ a good time an’ all,” he said subtly while you were alone with him.

“Yeah, I’d agree,” you respond with a grin.

He shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant and confident “I think maybe we should take things to the next level, wha’d’ya say?”

Of course you accept, he’s still immensely shocked and red in the face about it though.

He likes really sudden like sickly sweet kisses, give him that corny rom-com stuff right now, he will absolutely melt.

Also likes to kiss while he hugs you, big into slipping his hands into your pockets while he does so.

Kisses your head a lot (if you’re taller than him he gets annoyed frequently that he can’t reach, you’re his prime target every time you sit down).

Just love on this man, he’s simple.

Medic

Despite how insane this guy is I feel like Medic is pretty coy with romance.

Not in a way that is shy, or insecure, or even nervous, he just enjoys being chased, he wants you to have to work for it at least a little bit.

You also have to prove to be someone worthy of his affection (which isn’t as hard as it sounds, show genuine interest in his interests and be sweet to his birds there you won).

Medic has a pretty lax kissing policy, he greets people with kisses all the time, so he wasn’t really shy with you even if things progressed more seriously.

“Oh! Good morning!” Medic exclaimed, placing a kick peck on the side of your lips.

Embarrassment clear on your face as you raise your hands in surprise, his good morning friendly kisses are usually placed squarely on the cheek, not so close to your mouth.

“Little eager this morning aren’t you?” You said in a teasing manner.

He shrugged a little, making a cheeky expression “I have no idea vhat you are talking about!”

Kisses at inopportune or awkward times, never seems to notice. Genuinely enjoys catching you off guard.

Likes make out sessions in his office a lot, secretly making mental notes about your oral situation, totally not creepy.

Expect a lot of kisses right next to your mouth, that’s his absolute favorite spot to kiss you, that or along your spine.

Heavy

Heavy is respectful to a fault honestly, is afraid of seeming creepy or imposing so he may keep his distance at first.

Definitely needs to go ahead from you before he thinks about making any moves, he doesn’t want to scare you away, and he doesn’t want to ruin his chances either. But once he sense a mutual attraction? He may get a little more bold.

“Is looking good tonight,” he said, elbowing you as lightly as possible.

“Who is?” You ask whipping your head around briefly.

Heavy laughed “you is,” he joked.

Kissing is almost always initiated by you, he has to be a special mood to start it himself, usually if he’s upset and needs a quick pick me up.

Is actually very clingy if you allow him to be (which of course you will, don’t be stupid people) holds you firmly in place while kissing.

Likes kissing your ears, finds your flustered reaction so sweet and adorable. Really into that pure shit.

Kisses you on the cheek whenever the two of you go your separate ways for whatever reason, and of course when you two reunite. Yes, you’re that couple.

God I’m such a sap, what’s wrong with me.

An: oh jeez! I hope that was good Σ(-᷅_-᷄๑) again first time writing for a lot of these gents so let’s pray this isn’t offensively out of character. Thanks so much for reading!