#(BUT YEAH WAVES HANDS WILDLY LIKE. YEAH. EVEN IF HE WAS WITH SOMEONE OR WITH YUUKEI QUARTET IN A POLYSHIP he strikes me as this)

[obsessedwithceleste]

Fighting Fate (It’s a losing battle)

Theodore Nott x gn!reader

Inspired by, and dedicated to @musingsofahufflepuff

Summary: soulmate!au in which everyone sees in black and white until they meet their soulmate. Bold of fate to assume it can tell you what to do.

word count: 3.1k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

Ever since your first day at Hogwarts, you’d been told that you were lucky. A one in a million chance. Exceptional. Because as soon as you’d been sorted, and the sorting hat had been lifted up off of your head, your eyes had met his, and the world had burst into color.

It had been wildly disorientating at first- you almost fainted from the visual overload as the banners over each section of students burst into bright color. As you went to take your seat, you got strange looks from several students, but you never felt his eyes leave you.

You’d always thought it was rubbish. Even at the ripe old age of eleven. Your mother had first explained the idea of soulmates to you as a bedtime story. You remember her explaining how everything looked bland and colorless now because you hadn’t met your soulmate yet. But once you did, the world would come to life.

“When will I meet my soulmate?” You’d asked.

“Well, that’s the catch isn’t it? It’s different for everyone. Some meet their soulmate very young. At school even. But some, some will never meet their soulmate. They can be anywhere in the world, fate doesn’t discriminate.”

You’d scrunched your little nose up in distaste.

“That’s stupid. Why do I have to listen to fate?”

Your mother had only laughed, tucking you in and kissing your forehead goodnight. But the sentiment had remained as you grew up. How could someone really just be meant for you? Ridiculous.

Theo had known that you were going to be his soulmate before fate did. He’d watched silently from his seat on the train as you boarded, a nervous grin on your face as you waved goodbye to your family. You were perfect, and he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. At least until Mattheo swatted his arm.

“What’re you staring at, mate?” He’d asked loudly, gaining the attention of the other boys in the carriage.

“See them, there?” Theo asked, pointing to where you were boarding. “That’s going to be my soulmate.” He’d announced proudly.

“Yeah, okay mate,” the other boys had laughed, quickly moving on to the next topic.

But Theo didn’t take his eyes off of you until you disappeared through the train doors and off into some unknown compartment.

The next time he saw you was at the sorting ceremony. He watched as you confidently made your way up to the front, the smile never leaving your face as McGonagall lowered the hat onto your head. It only took a few moments of deliberation before the hat was being lifted off of your head and Theo’s eyes met yours.

It was like the wind was taken out of him as the room sprung to life, colors swirling around his vision as his eyes raced around the room in awe.

By the end of the night, all of Theo’s friends had been sorted into Slytherin with him. Mattheo, Enzo, Draco, Blaise. Even Crabbe and Goyle.

“I was right on the train. About them being my soulmate,” he’d announced proudly, pointing out different objects and describing the different colors to his friends who wondered in amazement.

You on the other hand, didn’t speak a word of it to anyone until you accidentally let it slip to your mother over break that you could see the pretty colored ornaments strung up on the tree.

She’d been thrilled of course, wanting to know every detail about this soulmate of yours. What did he look like? What house was he? Had the two of you spoken.

You answered each question with less enthusiasm than the one prior, and eventually she got the point and stopped asking.

As soon as the news slipped that Theodore Nott, a child of the sacred twenty-eight, and son of Tiberius Nott no less, could see in color however, it didn’t take long for people to start noticing you. Telling you how lucky you were to have found your soulmate. To be able to see color. As if you wanted a soulmate at eleven years old.

The first few years it was easy to avoid. Being only eleven or twelve, Theo was content admiring you from a far. Third year was when the boy finally got the courage to really try and talk to you for the first time. Sure he’d said hi a few times over the past couple years, but nothing you’d found particularly note worthy. Especially not for someone who was supposedly your soulmate.

“Are you any good at charms?” A voice asks, startling you as you look up from the essay you had been finishing up in the court yard. It was a warm, cloudy day, with only a light breeze, so you’d thought it would be the perfect day to take your studies outside.

You stare up in surprise at the brunette boy in front of you, watching silently as he takes a seat across from you.

In the past, you'd played the avoiding game, quickly scurrying off if you saw the boy or his friends approaching. This year, you hadn't been taking the same precautions, and it seemed Theodore was taking full advantage.

“I’m alright,” you reply hesitantly.

That was a lie. Charms was your best subject, but you were hoping the boy might go away. He didn’t.

"I know that you're top of the class," he responds, staring intently at you with a sly smirk.

That afternoon you begrudgingly helped Theodore with his charms homework, and he happily helped you with your DADA essay. There wasn’t a whole lot of interaction between the two of you, but he wasn’t horrible you supposed. At least he had brain cells to rub together.

After that he kept popping up sporadically throughout your third year.

At quidditch tryouts he'd insisted on partnering with you for several of the drills. You both were offered a place on the team. In the Great Hall he'd seek you out to ask about the homework assignment he'd missed after skiving off of class with Mattheo. The fact that you gave him your notes each time meant nothing. Obviously. And every so often, between the shelves of books in the library, you'd see a flash of soft brown hair, and intense eyes gazing at you before they disappeared as if you were imagining it.

With each increasing encounter, the both of you made idle conversation as you kept the boy at an arms length. It was nothing personal really. In fact the more you thought about it, he seemed perfectly alright. But something in your stubborn thirteen year old self just wanted to stick it to fate. So you continued to ice the boy out.

Theodore however, was nothing if not determined. He knew from the moment he saw you that he was meant to be yours, and he’d be damned if he let you slip through his fingers. Thirteen year old Theodore was a stubborn bastard and he knew he was willing to play the long game.

Things grew a bit more complicated in fourth year when you became friends with some of the Slytherin crowd.

It had been an accident really. You’d been reading down by the Black Lake when Daphne Greengrass had stumbled upon you, followed closely by Pansy Parkinson and Lorenzo Berkshire.

“Oh!” she’d said in delight, seeing the book in your hands, “I love that book!”

The two of you ended up talking enthusiastically about the novel for almost an entire hour with Pansy and Enzo butting in every so often to add their thoughts.

“Wait, you’re Theodore’s soulmate aren’t you?” Enzo asks, eventually recognizing you.

You eye the boy cautiously as you nod slowly, suddenly feeling self conscious.

Pansy just wrinkles her nose.

“Sorry you got stuck with such a tosser.” She says.

The four of you are quiet for a moment before your laughter breaks the silence, the other three following shortly after.

After that, you’re integrated into their little group seamlessly. You’d always been a bit of a loner. Sure people would wander up to you often enough to chatter about what it was like to see colors, but that was really all people wanted to know about you. Like it was some trivial party trick.

It was nice having your own friends to study with and wander about Hogsmeade with on the weekends. It was nice to have people who liked being around you simply for being you. Not because some magical force had decided to bind you to a whole other human and grant you the ability to see color.

It didn’t take long for Theo to notice you hanging about more frequently. How could he not? You were so pretty. So smart and witty. So perfect. He was just so happy to have you around more often. Even if it wasn’t to spend time with him specifically.

He reveled in any little morsel of information that he could scrape up from your friends. Your favorite color, your favorite sweets at Honeydukes, your class schedule. Theo was willing to admit the last one was a bit weird, but he was really just hungry to learn anything he could about his elusive soulmate.

Soon enough, it didn’t become unusual for Theodore and Mattheo to join the four of you on your little excursions. Popping up at the Black Lake, or meeting up with you at the Three Broomsticks. He was just always there. As if he was making a point of it. And begrudgingly you began to let him in.

A friend of your friends was okay you thought. Wouldn’t hurt to get to know him a bit. That wasn’t crossing any lines.

For Theo however, this was huge. He was finally getting somewhere. Even if you weren’t ready for any sort of romantic relationship, he was going to be the best damn friend you’d ever had.

By fifth year, there was simply no denying it. Theodore Nott was your best friend. You weren’t really sure how it had happened. The two of you just fit so well together. He had truly wormed his way into your life.

It had started with the study sessions.

"Remember when you helped me with charms in third year?" He'd asked. "I got top marks on that assignment."

As those became more frequent, it had turned into afternoons by the lake with both of you deep in your own novels, but sharing the comfortable silence.

Then it had morphed into weekends at Hogsmeade. Your friends thought they were being subtle when they consistently slipped away, leaving you and Theo to wander about the village. You couldn't find it in yourself to mind though.

You’d tried to keep him at an arms length. You really had. But Enzo couldn’t make you laugh as hard as you did with Theo. And Daphne just wasn’t the intellectual match that Theo was. And Pansy always made sure you let loose sure, but being around Theo was just- freeing.

You still weren’t sold on the whole soulmate thing though. Sure Theo was great. Perfect even. But you just couldn’t shake the icky feeling of blindly trusting fate to decide your life.

Then it happened. No one was expecting it. Especially not Pansy. But you and Pansy and Draco and Theo had all been working late on a potions assignment before dinner, and on your way back up from the dungeons, Pansy ran smack into a certain platinum haired Ravenclaw. You’d later find out that her name was Luna Lovegood. As soon as their eyes met, Pansy stumbled, leaning into you for support. You already knew what was happening as her eyes darted around wildly.

“Oh. I suppose we’re soulmates then aren’t we?” The girl said, a dreamy look overtaking her.

It all seemed too easy for them after that. It was like a flip had switched and the two were just mad for each other. A picture perfect example of what soulmates should be.

You found it to be slightly horrifying how blindly trusting fate could severely change a person and their relationship with an essential stranger.

Theo however, couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy. He had what? Almost five whole years on Pansy, and was lucky to get a friendly hug out of his soulmate. Yet Pansy and Luna were inseparable after only a few short weeks.

Not that Theo thought he was entitled to your affection necessarily. But it would be nice if you’d at least acknowledge the bond you two shared he thought.

“Why don’t you believe in soulmates?” Daphne asks one night.

It was one of those rare nights where it was only you, Daphne, Pansy, and Enzo huddled together wrapped in thick, warm blankets inside Daphne and Pansy’s dorm room. Salazar knows where Millicent was off spending her night. A bottle of shared fire whisky sat between you and packs of chocolate frogs littered the floor.

You blink in surprise at your friend’s question. You didn’t talk about soulmate stuff much.

“I do believe in them,” you say with a simple shrug.

“Yeah but you don’t really believe in them, ya know? Why?” She pushes.

You pause again, glancing at Pansy who was looking back at you intently.

“I don’t know. I guess I just don’t like the idea of someone deciding to be with me, just because they’re supposed to.” You say finally.

“I suppose I know what you mean.” Pansy murmurs after a moment.

You look at the girl in surprise and can tell the other two are shocked as well.

“Don’t get me wrong. I adore Luna. Really. I always tell her that I’m so glad that fate put us together. But then sometimes I wonder. If it weren’t for fate, would I have even given her a second glance that day I bumped into her in the corridor?”

There’s a silent lull as your group mulls over Pansy’s words before slowly drifting off to a new topic.

In another dorm, not so far off, Theo lay on his bed staring blankly up at the ceiling.

“Think they’ll come around soon?” Mattheo asks, sensing his roommate’s building tension.

“I dunno. But I’ll wait,” he replies, closing his eyes and letting images of you flood his mind. “They’re worth it.”

That night as you’re leaving to return to your dorm, Enzo catches your arm, pulling you off to the side.

“You can never tell Theo that I told you this, but the first time I met Theo, we were on the train waiting to leave for Hogwarts and he pointed out the window to a someone and said ‘they’re going to be my soulmate’. Then, at the sorting ceremony he got all dizzy all the sudden, and when we got to the common room, he said that he’d been right about who his soulmate would be. You. Just thought you should know.”

And with that, he’s gone.

It’s after that that you really begin to see Theo. You’d never really given him a fighting chance. But now, you kind of wanted to.

It’s the beginning of sixth year when Theo finally notices the shift. Notices you actually seeking him out on purpose, not flinching away when your hands brush, eyes hovering on his lips a bit too long for it to be accidental. And to say that he is ecstatic.

Meanwhile you were silently kicking yourself for taking so long to get over your petty bullshit with fate. Sure you still didn’t love the idea of it all, but after spending enough time with Theo, you could really, truly see the appeal.

After that night in fifth year, you began noticing how Theodore was one of the only students who could keep up with your academic prowess. He could always sense when you were tired, or stressed, or simply in a mood, and always did his best to subtly cheer you up. He was always there. Even after all the years you had put him through the wringer, he remained by your side. And that’s what really convinced you.

It’s also what landed you here, at the top of the astronomy tower, with your head in Theodore’s lap as his fingers raked gently through your hair.

It had become a usual meeting spot for the both of you. Theo had brought you up here a week into the school year starting. It was his safe place. His getaway when everything got to be too much, or when he just needed space to think. When those words had left his mouth you had melted. He trusted you. You had meant so much to him for so long, and you couldn't be bothered to give him the time of day.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, eyes gazing out at the swirling navy sky that seemed to stretch on forever.

“For what, amore?”

“Dunno. Making you feel like you weren’t good enough, or makin you feel like a bad soulmate.”

Theo looks down at you, and you meet his steady gaze.

“I knew I was good enough, amore. We wouldn’t be soulmates if we weren’t perfect for each other.” He replies.

You perk up at this. “You think I’m perfect?” You ask, a dopey smile appearing on your face.

Theo just rolls his eyes, shaking his head as he laughs. He'd grown used to your antics. Just another piece of you that he'd grown fond of.

“I said that we’re perfect together. But you’re perfect too I suppose.”

It hadn’t taken nearly as long as you had expected to reach this point. It seemed that Theo had just been waiting for the word to switch on boyfriend mode. All it took was one spontaneous, heated make out session in his dorm room, and you had the boy wrapped around your finger. (He already had been for years, but you didn’t need to know that.)

“Alright. Wrap it up love birds. You better be fully clothed,” Pansy calls, head peeping up from the top of the staircase leading up to the tower. “You two have been up here for hours, and you can’t have them all to yourself Theodore. They were our friend first.”

“Yeah! Time’s up lover boy!” You hear Enzo call.

Theo groans, head falling back as he rises lazily, offering you a hand up.

“I waited five years for this, can’t you guys let me have my moment?” He calls back.

“No!” The chorus replies.

With a laugh, you grab onto Theo’s hand, tugging him towards the stairs.

“C’mon. If we get Mattheo and Enzo drunk enough, they won’t notice if I spend the night,” you say with a cheeky wink.

“I heard that!” Enzo’s voice rings out.

“You wouldn’t say no to me anyway,” you shout back.

With a smile, Theo follows you down the stairs after your rowdy friends, hand wrapped tightly around yours. It had taken him five long years, and he certainly wasn’t going to let go anytime soon.

I'm a sucker for soulmate aus

#slytherin boys #theodore nott #harry potter universe #slytherin #lorenzo berkshire #matteo riddle #theo nott #draco malfoy #enzo berkshire #theo nott fanfiction #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #daphne greengrass #theo nott x reader #slytherin boys fanfiction #soulmate au #soulmates

[k-atsukibakugou]

tw: sfw, childhood best friends, mutual pining, w/c: 0.6k notes: uh I was slapped in the face with this scene so here u go; I wuv domestic bakugou, idc how bad this is it was haunting me

the tips of bakugou's hair droop ever so slightly at the moisture in the air, the blond growing darker in the steam. he adjusts himself in the bathtub, getting as comfortable as he can in the empty porcelain tub in front of your shower, the discomfort of the hardness against him the last thing on his mind as he listened to you talk, unconcerned by discomfort, or the steam settling on him, the feeling of his clothes sticking in the humidity. you're animated, he can see even that through the steam, the way your hands wave about wildly, one at your face as you scrubbed it, the other gesturing passionately behind the glass.

you swipe the condensation from the frosted glass in front of your eyes, "you know?!"

you’re incredulous, your brows down in a scowl as you gossip about someone he probably doesn’t even know the name of. he hums his agreement, content listening to you rant and rave all about the most recent news in your life, and watching your blurred silhouette.

“okay, close your eyes, im gonna get my towel.” your voice is light, not a trace of apprehension, this habit like second nature to you now. bakugou obeys, grunting when you’re safe to climb out of the shower.

he can feel you near him, the heat and steam radiating off of your skin, the clean scent of your soap entering his nostrils, clouding his head more than the steam. you're close enough to brush your wet skin against his, the softness of your towel fluttering against his forearm when you wrap it around yourself.

“hey, are you home this weekend? the old lady keeps asking about you.” he doesn’t care he interrupts your story of the latest episode you watched. hearing your lips part and close, his ears prick, waiting for your gentle hum to reach his ears.

“depends, what are you going to make me for dinner?” you sit down at the edge of the bathtub, reaching to poke his face, one cherry red eye cracking open, then the other. he’s met with your smiling face, a strike of adoration hitting him in the heart at your pretty features, as damp as his from the steam, a droplet running down the side of your throat to the top of your towel tucked into itself at your chest.

“whatever you want me to make.” his voice is softer than he wants it to be, his adam’s apple nervously bobbing in his throat, his mouth dryer than it had ever been with you this close, he’s had you closer; pulled into tight hugs when you were 5, closer again at 9 when you wrestled with him in the mud, his heart starting to race at 15 when his parents made him shuffle ‘closer, katsuki, you guys are friends,’ when you graduated lower secondary school together. every moment since then turning out like this, his eyes darting back and forth between yours, the air shifting the longer you stared at each other, his chest about to touch yours when you respond, your breath fanning over his cheeks at your proximity, “yeah, i’ll be there.”

he deludes himself for a moment, thinking you sound as nervous as he does, thinking your pupils dilate ever-so-slightly the longer you stare at each other, thinking maybe your lips pucker when your gaze falls, when you lean a touch closer, years of tension about to break between you both.

"i'll get out of your way." you clear your throat and stand back up, water still dripping from your body, katsuki jumping back like he was electrocuted by your sudden movement, muttering an agreement, a foreign anxiety settling in his stomach even as he sheds his shirt; sparing one last glance before you latch the door, katsuki catches your wide eyes once more and wonders if they mirror the adoration in his.

#「kat <3」 #「mercury writes」 #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader

[lovebugism]

steve finds out reader hasn’t slow danced with a guy before… like maybe she never went to prom with a date and he makes it really sweet for her

when steve finds out you've never slow danced with anybody, he takes it as a challenge (fluff, established relationship, 0.8k)

Languishing on Steve Harrington’s couch, you rest your full weight against his shoulder like you’re trying to melt with him there. You vaguely hear him shoveling a handful of popcorn into his mouth while you stare unblinking at the black-and-white film playing ahead of you.

“Slow dancing is, like… really weird,” you observe in a quiet murmur, features all twisted in confusion.

“Whaddaya mean?” the boy beside you wonders through his mouthful.

“I don’t know,” you answer with a lazy shrug. “It’s just, like… swaying in place… really awkwardly.”

“It doesn’t have to be awkward.”

You wave your hand at the television across the room, where a couple of Old Hollywood actors dance like both of them’s caught the plague. “Look at that and tell me that’s not awkward!” you argue and turn your chin to look at him. 

Your faces are much closer than you thought. The tip of your nose threatens to brush the chiseled bridge of his. The proximity leaves you wishing it had.

Steve scoffs with a boyish scrunch to his features. “Well, those two have, like, zero chemistry! You gotta slow dance with someone you like, you know? Like, really like,” he explains, gesturing wildly with his hand and jostling you slightly in the process. “Then you got yourself a good time, alright? You’re pressed all close, holding each other’s hands, dancing through the sexual tension—”

“It’s weird,” you insist with a scrunched nose.

“It’s nice!”

“Let’s just agree to disagree,” you shrug.

Steve shakes his wild head and shoves another handful of popcorn into his mouth. “Yeah, I can’t do that,” he says, muffled through the food in his cheek.

You snort a quiet laugh in return.

“So you’re saying you’ve never slow danced with someone before?” he wonders with his mouthful, then swallows. “Like, ever?”

Your face scrunches like it’s obvious. “No.”

“Not even at prom?”

“I didn’t have a date at prom!”

“I didn’t either!” he tells you, which you think is only half a lie. Nancy had just broken up with him then — whether he was too heartbroken or too lazy to find another date is still up in the air, really.

Your eyes narrow in a challenging squint. “The entire female class of 1985 was your prom date.”

“I’m just sayin’,” he insists, laughing quietly to himself. “You’re missin’ out here, babe.”

You scoff and reach for the bowl in his lap, stealing a handful of room-temperature popcorn for yourself. “Yeah, I don’t know about that.”

—————

The sound of vintage violins swells distantly in the otherwise quiet house as the film credits roll. Lit only by the amber stove light, you dump uneaten and unpopped kernels into the trashcan in the kitchen. A record crackles in the room over. A song floats gently on the midnight air.

Everybody loves somebody sometime…

Everybody falls in love somehow…

Your brows furrow when Steve appears in the doorway, rocking his hips back and forth and snapping his fingers to the languid beat. He sings the words quietly to himself, hardly trying but still sounding sort of decent anyway. “Something in your kiss just told me... My sometime… Is now…”

“What are you doing?” you wonder aloud, biting back a chuckle.

“Dancing,” the boy answers.

Your brows furrow as he approaches you — hips still swaying, fingers still snapping. “…By yourself?” you question slowly.

He cages his plush bottom lip between his teeth and shakes his head. With wide, warm palms, he smooths his hands over your sides. “Mm-mm,” he hums and squeezes your hips. “With you.”

His touch urges you to sway alongside him, but you tense almost immediately — a virtually immovable force. “No, Steve!” you scold through giggles, shoving him away with a halfhearted hand. “Steve, don’t!”

“C’mon!” he shouts over your protests as his chuckles entwine with your own. “Just dance with me! It’s not gonna kill ya!”

You make a faint grumbly noise of disapproval but don’t fight about it any further. With your face still scrunched in a childlike pout, you let him take one of your hands into his larger one and rest your other against his chest. With a palpable hesitance, you follow his subtle side-to-side movements.

Something in my heart keeps saying…

My someplace is here…

“This is so cheesy,” you giggle to yourself.

“But it’s nice, right?” Steve presses with raised brows. 

Rogue chestnut hairs fall over his forehead, and you fight the urge to push them back. Your nose scrunches in a silent answer, and he laughs. You can feel the golden sound rumble in his chest. 

“You don’t have to say anything… I know you like it.”

You roll your eyes at his smug grin. “Only ‘cause you’re such a good dance partner,” you tease with a knowing squint in your eyes.

His gaze swims with honey as his rosy lips quirk in a lopsided smile. “Don’t make me blush,” he jokes in a quiet murmur, already leaning down to kiss you. 

Steve swallows your laughter with a pink, petaled mouth pressed against your lips — tasting faintly of popcorn, cheap beer, and adoration.

The song crackles quietly through it all.

—And although my dream was overdue…

Your love made it well worth waiting…

For someone like you…

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #st drabbles #stevie drabble

[trashogram]

He Chose You (Pt. 6)

Lucifer/Reader: Lucifer wants you to be the Mother of his child. Rated E bc Explicit.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13

((This one fought me so hard, I just wanna get it out there and I’ll proof-read it later I’m sorry.))

The first time didn’t take, as you’d come to learn 3 days post-coitus with the Devil. It had left you bereft, not exactly disappointed but also not certain if you should go out and buy 150% proof alcohol to mark the occasion. 

You settled for enough wine to dull your senses before sending a text with your Hellphone. The fact that inter-dimensional phone lines were possible was simply added to the list of not-even-gonna-think-about-it of things that came with your new reality. 

A blood-curdling shriek from your pocket made you curse as you dove for it. 

“Hey.” 

“Hey-yy!” Lucifer responded cheerfully before clearing his throat. “So it um… it didn’t work?” 

“Unless being pregnant with hellspawn looks and feels exactly like my time of the month, no. It didn’t.” You said. 

He sighed on the other end, air blowing through the receiver and fucking up already poor reception. “Okay. Shit. Well, maybe we can work something else out—”

“I’ll just text you when it’s over and we can try again.” You replied as you leaned back against your headboard. 

“You-you wanna try again?” Lucifer’s surprise made your eyes roll.

“Yeah, just give me a couple days.” You’d felt a wave of fatigue crashing over you.

Suddenly you were boneless, barely able to even hold the phone up to your ear. Lucifer’s hesitant delight barely registered yet you could imagine him behind closed eyelids, smiling crookedly with those ivory fangs. 

“Y-I-uh, ok great! That works for me if it works for you!” He practically shouted. “Do you need anything in the meantime?”

“‘Mmmmffh, a nap.” Lucidity snapped back for a moment as you eyed the phone in your peripheral. “Also please don’t call or text me. I’m gonna throw this thing out the window if I have to hear someone screaming bloody murder one more time.” 

—

Lucifer being startled by the ringing of his Hellphone wasn’t at all peculiar. 

However — 

The sound of a love song, though tinny and compartmentalized to the King of Hell’s coat pocket, made Asmodeus perk up. 

He glanced down to see his diminutive brother rush for the device like his life depended on it. It was easy to feign polite indifference as Lucifer excused himself from the cafe table for a moment, but by the time the King had returned, Asmodeus was leaning forward expectantly. 

“That’s new.” He said. 

Lucifer looked up wildly, as if he’d been caught snatching aphrodisiacs from Ozzie’s own stores.

       “Huh, wha? What’s new?” He laughed off the embarrassment, re-taking his seat.

Asmodeous sipped from his teacup, clocking the many idiosyncrasies Lucifer displayed.

       He was flustered, still gripping the phone between his claws, and had perched on the edge of his seat so that he could bounce a leg against the ground. 

“Love songs aren’t your usual style, babe.” The Prince spoke casually, but his eyes were bright.

It was delightful to see Lucifer stiffen as soon as he realized what his companion referred to. One of the best about the short King was how easy he was to tease, if you asked the Embodiment of Lust himself. 

        “Didn’t know you were finally getting out there, Louie.” Ozzie teased. “Were you gonna keep it a secret? Even from me?”

“Oh n— out there? Me?! Ha! No!” Lucifer shook his hand fiercely. “I’m not — it’s not like that! We’re not dating! I mean, some might see it like that but a lot of others wouldn’t! She wouldn’t… probably!  It’s, ya see, actually — I — ahem, ah…” 

His embarrassment grew into something stranger, more conflicted and melancholy. The teasing smirk on Asmodeus’s face flattened. 

“It’s complicated.” He finished, looking down at his phone as if it were the sole reason for his sudden misery. 

Ozzie wasn't soft on many (in fact he’d argue that being hard was his speciality) but his brother was one of the few. 

The much larger Sin rested a hand against Lucifer’s back. “You wanna talk about it?”

—

The days that followed blurred together, monotony of aches and pains broken only by an insatiable libido. It was as if the promise of sex after this, however unfulfilling it might be, was the only thing keeping you alive. 

Lucifer’s bizarre consideration held up over that time, surprising you enough that when it was time to give him a ring, you weren’t as dread-filled as you could’ve been. 

        He did, however, arrive in your home via furnace suspiciously quickly upon making contact with you again. His normally pristine suit and and impeccably coiffed hair were ruffled and singed, like he’d made a mad dash to get to you. 

“Hell-Oh!” Lucifer had practically squeaked as you dragged him out by the lapels. 

You’re so pent up that it’s hardly a surprise when you find yourself sitting on his lap, having manhandled the short King onto your couch. 

His cold, smooth skin was still alien, but you powered through the initial aversion to chase after that zing that came with kissing him. It was addictive, even with the fear of being cut by his sharp teeth in the back of your mind. 

Despite yourself, you took a second to break away and breathe. 

Beneath you, Lucifer was positively flushed. His shiny, wet lips were parted in wordless awe, and eyes glazed over in his daze. 

“Fuck.” He croaked. 

You smirked, gripping onto the blond hair that had already been mussed and abused by overeager hands. Pointedly, you slid back and forth on his trembling lap. There was no way to ignore the hardness at his inner thigh. 

—

The first drag of his cock against your walls made you shudder, arching as your head fell back. 

Lucifer whined in his seat, claws digging into the plush of your thighs. The pain heightened the feeling of being stabbed twice, making your lower belly tremble. 

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fffffff —” His cries were so good, you couldn’t stop from grinding down onto him. “You feel so good. So. Good. You’re gonna kill me, sweetheart. I can't.”

“That’s ok.” You slurred, hands coming up to wrap loosely around his neck. “We can work on that.” 

Lucifer opened his mouth, but you were already planting kisses against the corner of lips mouth, his cherry-spotted cheeks, the line of his jaw and the pulse beneath his ear.

—

Your hands were focused on exploring the planes of Lucifer’s chest and shoulders. He wasn’t muscular — or tall, obviously, but the lithe body intertwined with yours was more than easy on the eyes. 

“You can touch.” It was hardly fair that yours were the only hands busy. The ruler of Hell was flat beneath you, artificial light from your bedroom lamp casting shadows on his marble chest. 

Lucifer’s mulberry-dappled lids remained low, highlighting the yellow glow of his eyes. His claws slid up your hips, reverently tracing your frame as you bounced lightly. 

“If you insist, princess.” 

He was more coy after the first few rounds, an easier grin sliding across his face. The trembling touches against your breasts spoke of the still-nervous creature you’d first been introduced to.

—

Daylight was waning again when you found knelt, back pressed against Lucifer’s chest. He fucked into you wildly, teeth pressed into your bare shoulder. 

The thought of him biting into you didn’t sound so frightful anymore. In fact the image set butterflies off in your stomach. 

That and the way he held you close, wrapped vice-like around you like a boa constrictor. 

“No baby, don’t go yet!” When you squirmed, Lucifer nuzzled into the side of your neck, breathing heavy. “Just like this. Please, baby.”

He pleaded into your neck, grip tightening to where you couldn’t breathe. 

— 

“Here.” You guided his hand, settling it between your legs. 

Lucifer’s thrusts had grown shallow and uneven, but hadn’t quite stopped. He seemed entranced, watching as you positioned his thumb over the bundle of nerves just above where you two were joined. 

“Gently. Watch your claws.” You murmured along with your hands-on teaching. 

When you felt he’d gotten the message, you sighed and concentrated on the circular motion against your clit. Lucifer remained attentive, moving clockwise as the pace he’d started before picked up again. 

In moments you tensed, pleasure sparking along your pubic bone. It built up as your eyes closed, head tipped back as you let yourself enjoy the pressure both inside and out. Your hips jerked upward of their own accord, core trembling and cunt spasming. 

Your partner whimpered at the new intensity, which only egged you on. Before you knew it, you two were rocking into a chaotic rhythm. 

With slit eyes, you saw Lucifer looking down at you, flustered yet rapt over your every little response.

“Yeah?” He asked breathlessly. 

You nodded. “Mm-hm.”

It was difficult. You could feel the tension in your belly contracting, the heat and pressure building against your clit. The feeling was mounting to where you couldn’t help your keens, your moans, your whimpers. 

It ended with a choked sigh. You arched from the bed, head falling back as you let your legs tremble and shake around him. The convulsions pulled the Devil in deeper, and the feel of him was enough to make your eyes roll back in your skull beneath fluttering eyelids. Another gush came at the thought of being so full you could feel it in your stomach. 

          Lucifer watched. His face was nearly as red as the apple that adorned his hat, knocked off of your bedside table. He had the expression of someone seeing a falling star for the first time. Stunned, eyes gleaming, unable to comprehend something despite how beautiful it was.  

The former Angel lowered himself to capture your mouth with his own. He pressed luxuriant kisses to your lips, all while his hips stuttered between your thighs until he was humping into you, refusing to separate skin from skin. 

His release was coupled with a heated groan, muffled by the slide of your tongue against his. You were glowing inside out, warmth blooming in your core as you held onto Lucifer tightly. 

— 

The woman had invited you up into her tree. It was a different tree from the last, not bearing any fruit but lush with green needles and strong boughs that wouldn’t break. 

She looks over her shoulder at you cheekily. “Aren’t you glad you decided to join me?”

You playfully scoff and roll your eyes. “You don’t need to be so smug about it.” 

“Oh I think I do.” The blonde tilted in your direction, arms coming to wrap around you. “I won.”

You stay that way, watching the nettles shake in the passing breeze. 

“Everyone loves a winner.” She says at your side.

You frown. “I love you no matter what.” 

The woman sighs. 

“You might not always.” 

—

Light humming woke you from your doze, along with the repeated motion of something against your cheek. 

It wasn’t until you’d opened your eyes that you realized it was Lucifer humming and caressing your cheek tenderly. He was nose(less) to nose with you, seemingly admiring your face slackened with sleep. 

“What’s that from?” You rasped. 

“Hmm?” The King stroked an errant hair behind your ear. 

“It’s a movie.” You continued, repeating the notes in your head. “Right? It’s from a musical…”

“You like musicals?” Lucifer asked, seemingly surprised. Fangs poked out of his close-lipped smile, and he looked goofier than ever before. 

You copied him, helpless to how silly he made everything. “What’s not to like?”

The lightbulb went off. “Oh! Cabaret. That’s where it’s from.” 

“Yeah!” Lucifer moved even closer, the flat of his face pressing against your nose as he nuzzled you for guessing the right answer. “It’s kinda old, isn’t it? How’d you guess?”

“Psh, you think my threshold for pop culture is only as long as the last ten years?” You teased, arm skating down his side so that you could pinch his behind. 

“Hey!”

***

Tag List: @crescent-z, @for-hearthand-home, @undertale-is-sansational, @loslox, @navierkalani, @yaimlight, @ivoryviness, @crystalplays28, @flowerempress, @wally-darling-hyperfixation, @altruisticradiodemon, @moonlight-readings, @halparkebitch, @charliecharlie65, @sockgoblin, @cocomollo, @caniseethefourthsword, @squeegeeclean, @crow-twink, @an-emovision, @marydragneell, @lafy-taffy, @fandom-imagines1, @loquacious-libra, @glowymxxn, @avadakadabra93, @froggybich, @hamthepan,

Please let me know I missed tagging you!

#hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar

[theemporium]

What about Max maxplaining Trouble? Like not to Trouble, but about Trouble to someone. He’s just gushing about her or maybe he’s telling someone that no they can’t do “x” b/c that’s not the way Trouble prefers it done. And everyone is just so confused about why Max knows something so random about Trouble.

kinda made this into a wee sick fic but enjoy! and thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

“Max, I’m fine.” 

“No, you’re not.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“Sorry for taking your health seriously. Now, give Danny the phone.”

If someone told you that Max Verstappen was an overbearing mother hen before you met him, you would have laughed in their face. You had heard many things about him, and that certainly wasn’t one you would have believed. Even in the early stages of your friendship, you would have never really pegged him as the type. He was caring, yes. 

But this? This was a whole new level.

You were sick. Nothing crazy or insane, just a simple flu that left you feeling a bit under the weather and longing for your bed. But apparently to Max, it was equivalent to you being on your deathbed. 

Unfortunately for him, he had to fly out to England for a few meetings at the factory that required his presence. He tried arguing Christian over the phone about it, but ultimately lost that battle and was forced to take his private jet out.

You made the mistake in thinking that you would be able to get a few days of quiet rest to recover. Because only mother hen Max Verstappen would send someone to do exactly what he would do if he was able to stay by your side.

“Did you get her a blanket?”

Daniel tried to suppress his laughter and remain serious as he held your phone in his hand, watching Max on the screen scrutinising every little detail about your setup in your bed.

“Yes, I—”

“You got the wrong blanket,” Max stated bluntly.

You sighed. “Max, it’s fine—”

“Stop saying that, schatz, when it’s not,” Max retorted before his focus returned to the Aussie. “She likes the cream one in the hallway cupboard. Should be on the third shelf.”

Daniel nodded. “Right, got it.” 

“Did you get her medicine?”

“Oh yeah,” Daniel said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I got her some cough syrup from the pharmacy down the—”

“Which flavour?”

“Cherry,” Daniel said.

Max scoffed. “Mate, she hates cherry. You need to get the orange flavoured one.”

“Max,” you groaned as you nuzzled yourself further into the endless amount of pillows your boyfriend had made Daniel surround you in. “Cherry is fine. I just have to take a spoonful once a day, or whatever it is.”

“Three times a day,” Max said, his brows furrowed together. “And you hate artificial cherry flavouring. You said it makes you want to throw up.”

Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment. 

“I’ll get her the orange flavoured one,” Daniel said with a laugh, finding it adorable how caring Max was. “Anything else, helicopter boyfriend?”

“I don’t know what that means,” Max grumbled. “But yes. I have left menus on the kitchen counter, I’ll send you what she likes and what she wants to get but always refuses until it’s in front of her. Also, there should be a list of movies I sent you that are her comfort movies that you can—”

“This is creepy, Verstappen, it’s like you’re my stalker or something,” you muttered, even if your heart was swooning at the small details he remembered about you.

“Lil’ Maxie just loves his Trouble,” Daniel grinned wildly. “He doesn’t shut up about you. He could probably go on for hours if we let him.”

“More like days,” Max corrected before he continued to explain everything you would need to his friend, whilst you laid there with a fond smile on your face.

.

#max verstappen #formula one #f1 #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen fic #max verstappen one shot #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one fic #formula one one shot #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #f1 one shot

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Love Sucks I. The Beginning

Vampire!Steve Harrington x fem!reader He's just a gloomy, little guy.

The Masterlist 🩸

You found him in a graveyard. 

Mournful looking, as one normally does when visiting a loved one. Skin a little sallow, a perpetually faded tan that you noticed never seemed to return, not even on the warmest days. Brown eyes, sad eyes. Honey hair with a small white-grey patch in the midst of it all, only found when you hunted for it, a clue to his past, of what had happened to him. He was tall, pretty. 

Really pretty, in a gloomy sort of way. Melancholy, maybe. And you realised as you passed, laying flowers by your grandparents names, that the boy wasn’t visiting any grave at all. He was lingering by the tree line in a way that should’ve screamed ‘danger!’ but he was kicking a rock and pulling leaves from the shrubs, shredding them as he sulked. He stopped when he saw you, only a few feet away, his eyes wide, as if he was surprised you were seeing him at all. 

Maybe you weren’t supposed to. 

“Hi,” you called out, cautious, concerned. You raised a hand, a small wave, a gentle surrender, the summer breeze picking at your hair and blowing the smell of your citrus perfume over to him. 

The boy raised a hand back, eyes still shocked. He pressed his lips together and stayed in the shadows that the trees gave before he answered. “Hi.”

And that was it. 

He walked with you to your car, a slow, lazy pace that both of you didn’t hurry, too busy sharing shy glances to want to part. He was called Steve and he didn’t live around here, not usually. He was your age, or there about and he was only in the graveyard because it was quiet. 

His vague answers were as much as you could get out of him, everything told to you in a soft, tired sounding voice. He had bags under his eyes, lilac coloured things that made him look like he hadn’t slept for a decade and when his hand brushed yours by accident, he was colder than he should have been for someone standing in the sun. And when you finally got to your car, the front seat still smelling like lilies and lavender, Steve tilted his head and looked sad at the thought of you having to go. 

You asked him if he had dinner plans that night, he gave you a shadow of a smile and touched his fingertips to his lips, almost as a subconscious thought. He shrugged, looking gloomy once more, saddened at the thought of having to tell you:

“Kinda, yeah.”

But then he told you he’d be around tomorrow and maybe you could meet then? Maybe go for a walk, a coffee or something. So you said yes, barely concealing your smile, unsure what it all meant since the boy hardly seemed flirtatious but when you clambered into the front seat of your car, you let out a squeal all the same. 

It didn’t occur to you that it was odd the boy had disappeared by the time you’d looked in your rear view mirror, nothing but air and the slowly falling leaves from the old oak trees, a sign that fall was coming soon. 

After that, Steve was yours. And you were his, one not usually anywhere without the other and his melancholy was lifted with your contagious joy, your overwhelming excitement calmed by his gloom. A ray of sunshine and a rain cloud. 

A girl and her vampire. 

Not that you knew that, not yet. Not quite then. 

Then one day, maybe a month or so later, Mike and Lucas upset El and the shelves she was standing next to fell to the floor, books ripped at the spines, screws scattering across the floorboards. And everyone had looked at Steve with wide eyes, ashen faces. It had taken a little bit of time to explain and the boy really hadn’t shown much surprise. 

And just when you were ready to approach him, kneeling onto the couch cushions beside him, hand offered in support, Steve had blinked and looked up at everyone just as he parted his lips and let his canine teeth stretch out from his gums, sharp, brilliantly white and pointed. 

Nancy had gasped, some of the kids shrieked, Eddie had cackled wildly and you’d waited a beat before reaching out to skim a finger over Steve’s bottom lip, the pad of it grazing the end of one fang. With one supernatural kid already under your wing - along with a boy who’d once wanted to keep a demogorgon as a pet - no one in the party was in a position to judge. 

When you asked, “how?”

Steve could only shrug. He said he was sure he had died, maybe, only just. Hit on the head, or maybe he’d fallen. Or he’d been brought back by something or someone he didn’t know. And when asked for how long, Steve shrugged again, rubbing his tired eyes and telling everyone that it could’ve been a week, it could’ve been ten years - he only really started counting the days since he met you. 

He’d been lonely, moving from town to town until people stopped asking questions and he could blend into grey buildings and tall trees. No one in Hawkins had spoken to him before, not until the pretty girl in the graveyard said ‘hi.’ And it all made sense, really. Because Steve never ate meals with you, just chugged coffee like it was going out of style and snacked on anything dry and crispy. You just figured he was a little strange, maybe trying out for the swim team, or something. 

Not that he went to school. Or a job. Or… well, anywhere. 

So you blinked and nodded, accepting the fact your boyfriend was a vampire as easily as you accepted that one of your friends kept military level weapons under her bed because other dimensions existed and monsters were real. 

Shit happened, y’know?

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington oneshot #vamp!steve harrington #vampire!steve harrington

[cloudybarnes]

ex best friend

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!reader

Summary: when you were younger, Draco was your best friend. some years had passed, and the two of you had found yourselves estranged. one day, after a lost quidditch game for the Slytherin team, you find yourself drawn to Draco once again, hopeful to see where things had gone wrong for you two

Word Count: 1.8k+

Masterlist

✰  ✰  ✰

“Go Harry! Go Ron!” You shouted. Hermione cheered, clapping as loudly as she could. 

The first Quidditch match of the season. Ron was doing amazing as goalkeeper, and Harry was whizzing through the stadium on the hunt for the golden snitch. 

They were playing against your house, Slytherin. Even though you were a slytherin, that didn’t mean you necessarily had to root for them. You were best friends with the Golden Trio. Even though you were Slytherin, you always stood up for them against the rest of your house which led to them becoming your best friends. 

“Look!” Hermione shouted, “Harry’s almost got it!” 

Harry and Draco were going head to head for the snitch, but Harry was just that much closer to catching it. All of the sudden, Harry fist wrapped around the snitch. The Gryffindor section exploded with cheers and applause. You and Hermione jumped out of your seats. 

“Let’s go!” Someone around you shouted. 

Hermione wildly clapped her hands as the Gryffindor team surrounded Harry in cheers and laughter. “Come on,” she urged, pulling you down the bleachers, “let’s go catch up with them.”

You chuckled, and followed her down the bleachers and out of the stadium where you would wait for Ron and Harry. 

As you walked out, you couldn’t help but notice Draco coming out as well. He seemed to be the first from the Slytherin team to leave the stadium. Almost as if sensing you stare, he looked up and made direct eye contact with you. 

You and Draco had been best friends your first two years at Hogwarts. When you were younger, everything seemed to be easier. Draco had been quite mean to Hermione, Ron, and Harry, and as a result, you grew apart from him. 

Still, you couldn’t help but care for Draco. You remembered how sweet he had always been to you, how close you guys were, and how many nights you two would sneak out to the halls to cause mischief together. Quite honestly, you miss him. While you love being friends with the Gryffindors, Draco had been your best friend, and it sucked not being close to him any longer. 

“Hermione,” you said, “I’ll catch up with you guys in a little bit. Are we still gonna study for the potions exam, later?”

Hermione glanced over your shoulder, then looked back at you with a bit of a worrisome face. “Yeah, we can meet in the library around 7. Are you, uh, gonna have a chat with Draco?”

Hermione was the only one who knew you missed your friendship with Draco. While she never really understood it, what with him being so rude to her, she never made you feel bad about missing him. 

You hadn’t really talked to Draco all that much in the past year, just some small things here and there, but not like you used to. 

“Yeah, I think I’m gonna try.” You gave her a small smile and turned back toward where you had last seen Draco. He was walking away from the stadium towards an old cherry blossom tree the two of you used to conspire under. 

Your heart swelled a little. You really did miss him, and seeing him in a place so familiar to you and to your friendship brought a wave of sadness over you. You took off in stride to catch up with him. 

Draco sat under the tree, watching you as you approached. 

A little awkwardly, you sat down next to him and leaned against the large trunk of the tree. You cleared your throat, “I saw the game. You put up a good fight.”

He shook his head, his hair falling slightly into his eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure you were just so devastated when Potter caught the snitch instead of me.” The sarcasm reeked from his lips, but he didn’t seem angry. He sounded quite the opposite. You weren’t sure if he was sad or just felt defeated. It was a strange look from him; one you hadn’t had the privy of seeing from him. 

“Just because I root for Gryffindor on occasion, doesn’t mean I enjoy seeing you lose. I’m still Slytherin, I still have house pride.” 

Draco scoffs at that. “You haven’t had house pride in a long time, (Y/N).”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise. “Ouch, Draco. Going straight for my throat, huh?”

He just shook his head and looked away, staring off into the distance. The breeze picked up, shaking the leaves of the tree, causing a few to fall at your feet. 

“Dray,” you said softly. Draco’s eyes dart to your face. His mouth hung open ever so slightly at the nickname you used to call him. “What’s going on with you? You’ve never been one to sit around and sulk.”

He shrugged. “I guess there’s a first for everything.”

“I don’t believe that. The Draco I know wouldn’t have come out here in disappointment. He would have stormed to the common room and figured out exactly where he went wrong to ensure he beat those pesky Gryffindors the next time.”

Draco chuckled. “Weird hearing you call the Gryffindors ‘pesky’. You’ve always been so kind to everyone, no matter their house.”

You shrugged with a soft smile. “You must be rubbing off on me, then.”

He shook his head. “Not sure that that’s such a good thing, (Y/N/N).” 

Your heart melted at the use of your old nickname. Draco was the only one to ever call you that, and when you stopped talking, your nickname died with your friendship. You couldn’t help but think about what used to be with Draco. 

“What happened to us, Dray? How did we grow so far from each other?”

Draco rubbed his hands down his face, like he was nervous. “You’re not like any other Slytherin I know, (Y/N). Sure, you’re cunning, you can be clever at times, and as I recall, you’re quite the prankster.” He smirked. “The rest of us, though, can be quite mean and outright nasty at times. You’re not like that at all. I guess when you started to become friends with Potter and started to stick up for them, I kind of realized how different we were.”

“So my being friends with them caused us to stop being friends?” You couldn’t believe it. You knew that by sticking up for them, it caused a drift between you and Draco, but you didn’t want to think you had been ostracized because of it. 

“It’s not just that.” Draco sighed. He looked into your eyes, and you could see something swirling within them. It looked a lot like regret and sorrow. He seemed to struggle to get his next words out. “I felt like… like I wasn’t good enough for you. Don’t get me wrong, I’m better than Potter and his group of ragdoll friends in a lot of ways. I think just not in the way that you needed.”

You didn’t know what to think. You stared at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Draco, you’re gonna have to explain it to me better.”

He growled in frustration. “Just forget it, (Y/N). This was stupid. I don’t even know why I came over here.”

He went to stand up, but you grabbed onto his hand and held him in place. Draco’s head whipped to gape at you. 

“Don’t do that, Draco. We were friends long enough for me to know what’s going on. Don’t shut me out, because I really just can’t do this again.” Your voice quivered slightly. “You might not realize this, but it broke my heart when we stopped being friends, Dray. You weren’t just my friend, you were my best friend. I never imagined we would end up the way we are now, barely speaking to each other, very curt, very much like acquaintances.”

“I’m not like them, (Y/N)!” Draco shouted. He raked his hands through his hair. “I’m not good like them. I don’t see things the way they do, they way you do. I was only going to bring you down, and I couldn’t let that happen. Godric knows I can be awful, but never in my life did I want to see my awfulness rub off onto you. You’re sweet, (Y/N), you’re kind, and you deserved someone kind, someone loyal, someone-”

“I just wanted you, Draco!” 

The words on Draco’s lips silenced as you let out your confession. He stared at you, dumbfounded. “What did you say?”

You huffed. “I just wanted you. If you had explained all of this to me when it went down, I would have told you that you didn’t need to be good. You didn’t need to be anything other than yourself, because I liked you. If I had to choose between you and them, I would have chosen you a thousand times over, Draco. You were always my first choice.”

“You liked me?”

Your cheeks blushed. You tried to shrug your shoulders as if to brush it off. “Yeah. You were my best friend. You were the only person that really understood me. You cared about me. How was I not supposed to like you?”

“And what about now?” Draco asked. “How do you feel about me now?”

Draco placed his hand on top of yours. He leaned in slightly like he was trying to make sure he heard every word you said. 

Your heart pounded in your chest. How did you feel about him? 

“I miss you. I know that.” You confessed. “I know I still think about you. I know I long for the nights where we snuck out of our rooms to see each other. I miss seeing you everyday. Sometimes I feel like-”

His lips were soft. 

Draco’s mouth moved slowly against yours, like he was afraid if he pressed too hard it would break the intimacy of what was happening. You kissed him back gently, slowly guiding your hand up to the blonde of his hair. 

Draco softly ran his fingers up your arm to your back where he held onto you. 

Kissing Draco felt like the easiest thing in the world. It felt like nothing you’ve ever experienced before.

When Draco pulled away, you could see the biggest grin adorning his face. His cheeks were slightly pink, and his eyes shined like no tomorrow. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time, (Y/N/N). You don’t know how much I’ve missed you, or how much I wished something like this would happen between us.”

You giggled, your own cheeks turning shades of pink. “You know, if you hadn’t lost that Quidditch match, we probably wouldn’t have been here right now.”

Draco chuckled, and pulled you close to wrap you in his arms. Softly, he whispered, “I’d lose every Quidditch match if it meant we could always be like this.”

“You don’t have to lose any matches, Draco. I’m not going anywhere ever again.”

#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy oneshot #draco malfoy one shot #draco mafloy #harry potter x reader #harry potter #ron weasly x reader #fred weasly x reader #draco malfoy drabble #draco malfoy x slytherin!reader #george weasley #ron weasley #hermione granger #draco #malfoy

[feyhunter78]

Split Lips and Busted Knuckles - Nerd!Miguel

Description: A chance meeting with Miguel's half-brother Kron leads to you seeing a different side of Miguel.

Nerd!Miguel masterlist here!!

Seriously you hate men, maybe not all of them, obviously not Miguel, but a lot if not most of them, and you really fucking hate Kron. Tall, blond, an extremely punchable face and an attitude that screamed “I waste my daddy’s money on cocaine.” He was a complete and utter rich asshole. One who seemed to be intent on talking to you.

You had a Mid-18th Century History class together, and he always tried to catch you after class. Luckily, you had a few sisters in your class as well, and you could hide within the pack to avoid him. Then he tried to catch you before class, but your professor called you over, safe again. But now here in the courtyard, an open space filled with frat boys you stupidly decided to wander through on your way to meet Miguel, there was nowhere to hide.

“Y/N, hey y/n, wait up.” Kron calls, waving wildly to get your attention.

You stop and press your lips together, before putting on a fake smile. He was the social chair for KA, and you know some of your sisters have been dying to be invited to their parties. “Hey Kron, what’s up?”

He gives you a smile, one that you think is supposed to be friendly, even nonthreatening, but it gives you the creeps. “Not much, just wanted to ask you about something I heard from a few people.”

“Oh?” You rack your brain trying to come up with some semblance of an idea about what he’s talking about but come up empty.

“Yeah, I heard you’ve been hanging out with my brother.” He says, his blue eyes hold you fast, like a butterfly pinned to a board.

“Your brother? I didn’t know you had a brother.” You say, brow furrowing as you try to remember meeting someone who looks like Kron but isn’t actually Kron.

“Well, he’s my half-brother, my dad is the ultimate stud, so you know, things happen and then Miguel just showed up.” He explains, not even seeming fazed or upset that his dad had an affair.

You blink owlishly, his words echoing in your brain as you try to put two and two together. “Miguel, as is Miguel O’Hara?”

He nods, “that’s the one, weird ass nerd, he refused to join KA with me, even though I told him that’s the only way he’ll make friends.”

“He’s not weird.” You bristle, crossing your arms over your chest.

Kron holds up his hands in surrender. “Whoa, whoa, chill, I’m just saying.”

“Yeah, okay, so I’ve been hanging out with him, who cares?” You glance at your watch; you’re going to be late.

There’s a very real and slightly concerning pain in your chest at the thought of Miguel sitting alone in the student center, waiting for you like a lost puppy, thinking you abandoned him.

Kron rests a hand on your shoulder, and you fight the urge to shrug it off. “Look Miguel, he’s my half-brother and yeah, he’s fucking annoying, and a try-hard, but he’s a nice guy, too nice. Don’t waste your time with him, it’s social suicide. He’s a nobody, a fucking loser who cares more about Legos and fucking science or whatever than getting laid.”

“I really don’t care about social suicide, but thanks, I think I can make my own decisions.” You tell Kron, giving him that same, perfectly crafted customer service smile.

“Y/N, you don’t get it, I’m trying to help you. He’s a loser, back in high school, no girls gave him a chance, he’s a total virgin okay, and you need a real man.”

And there it is, the real reason Kron doesn’t want you hanging with Miguel.

“A real man, huh? Well, you know what Kron, why don’t you let me know when you’ve found one and then get back to me.” You pat his hand that’s still on your shoulder.

His face goes red, then the color drains and his eyes harden. “I’m trying to help you, bitch.”

“Appreciate it, don’t need it, thanks though.” You walk off, head held high, hands shaking in anger as you shove them in your jacket pockets.

Miguel is sitting at your normal table, the one tucked in the corner secluded and shaded by large hedges, his head in a book, his glasses slipping down his nose.

You set your stuff down and push them up, smiling at his startled look. “Hey, sorry about the wait.”

He shakes his head, pink tinting his cheeks. “No worries, I was reading up on next week’s lecture for my genetics class.

You slide into the seat across from him. “Oh yeah? Anything interesting?”

You can’t believe he’s a virgin, he’s so…hot. Your mind starts to wonder for a second, imagining what it would be like, how he’d sound, how he’d feel, the flustered look on his face when you straddle him.

He nods, and begins to explain, talking wildly with his hands, pulling you from your lewd thoughts, then he freezes, his shoulders tensing, his hands deathly still.

“Miguel? Everything alright?” You ask, casting a glance over your shoulder in the direction of his gaze.

Fucking Kron.

When Kron gets closer you yell out, “so what are you like a stalker now or something?”

He laughs, it’s that specific laugh that reeks of arrogance and an inability to see women as people. “You wish.”

“I really don’t.” You grumble, turning back to look at Miguel.

His knuckles are white, his jaw clenched, his back ramrod straight, his shoulders set back, the expanse of his chest on display as if he’s trying to make himself look bigger than he already is, which is a feat in itself. There’s a look in his eyes that sends a shiver of something akin to fear down your spine. You’ve never seen Miguel look this way, ever, it’s like you’re looking at a whole different person.

“Migs, how you doing, bro?” Kron asks, standing between you and Miguel, who both remain seated, resting his hands on the table.

“Kron.” Miguel says curtly, turning that ice-cold gaze fully onto his half-brother.

Kron rolls his shoulders back and glances at you. “I thought I told you there’s nothing to be gained from hanging with this loser.”

Your eyes flicker back to Miguel, who’s giving Kron a harsh look you can’t quite decipher, then to Kron. “And I thought I told you I can make my own decisions.”

Kron clicks his tongue. “What’s he gonna do for you, he’s a fucking virgin. Just gonna try to make you cum by explaining science facts to you? Build you a dildo out of Legos?”

You nearly choke on your own spit. “What the fuck is wrong with you?

“If you’re that desperate for dick, you can always swing by the house, I’d be more than happy—” Kron hits the ground with a strangled yelp.

Miguel is on him in seconds, fist cocked back, his back muscle rippling as he brings his fist down, again and again and again. “Di esa mierda otra vez. Dilo de nuevo, te reto a la mierda.” Trsl: Say that shit again. Say it again, I fucking dare you.

Kron manages to get one arm free and tries to grab Miguel’s face, shirt, arm, anything he can reach. “You’re fucking crazy, you and your sorority slut.” Kron lands a solid hit, and you wince at the sight of Miguel’s head turning—even if it’s ever so slightly—with the force, Kron’s smug laugh ringing through the air once more.

“You never know when to shut up, huh?” Miguel snarls, forcing Kron’s arm down with his free hand, the other connecting with Kron’s nose, a sickening crack filling the air.

The sound prompts you into action, and you ignore the way your stomach flips at Miguel’s tone, at the way he moves, like a panther, powerful, stalking its prey, delivering that fatal blow.

Be so for real y/n, you cannot be turned on right now, that’s so embarrassing.

You grab Miguel’s shoulders and try to pull him away, it’s useless, but you try anyways. “Stop, stop, you have to stop, fuck come on Miguel—if they catch you fighting on campus you could lose your scholarship.”

“Shit, okay, I yield, I’m sorry.” Kron coughs out, blood gushing from his nose as his voice joins yours.

But Miguel doesn’t stop, he’s cursing under his breath, and at Kron in Spanish, his hand bloody, Kron’s flailing helplessly in his vice grip.

You try to grab Miguel’s bicep, fear flooding your system. “Miguel, stop, please, you’re freaking me out.”

That catches his attention.

Miguel mutters something to Kron then gets up, shoving his stuff in his bag and walking away, his shoulders tense.

In shock, you grab a bunch of napkins and your things, before chasing after him.

Why is this still kinda hot? You wonder, before mentally smacking yourself upside the head.

Miguel’s legs are much longer than yours, his steps bigger, faster, and you grab onto the front pocket of his backpack, his name spilling from your lips. “Miguel, hey, wait up.”

He stops, and you drag him into a nearby alcove with a bench pressed flush against the stone wall.

You both sit and Miguel refuses to look at you, his hand and lip bloodied.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” You ask, taking his hand in yours and dabbing it with a napkin, trying to clean him up the best you can.

“I’m sorry.” Miguel says quietly, eyes downcast.

“Why?” You turn his hand over and start cleaning his palm.

“I scared you, and I—I let my anger get the best of me, I should’ve just walked away.” His eyes meet yours for a brief moment when you gently dab at his lip.

“You didn’t scare me, I mean yeah that was a little intense, but…” You trail off when you realize he’s trembling. “Hey, I’m not afraid of you, you’re Miguel, my sweet boy, who can apparently throw one hell of a punch.”

He laughs at that, albeit weakly, but it’s still a laugh.

“And Kron is an idiot, don’t listen to him.” You continue, spending maybe a bit too long cleaning Miguel’s split lip, mesmerized by him.

“I don’t care what he says about me, he’s been a jerk since we were kids, but…he can’t just—you don’t deserve that.”

You exhale forcefully out of your nose, a small, contained laugh. “He’s just a dumbass saying dumbass stuff, like really, who would build a dildo out of Legos? That would hurt like a bitch.”

“And you don’t—you’re not weirded out by what he said?” Miguel asks carefully, you can feel the embarrassed heat radiating off him.

You set the napkin down and grab his chin with one hand turning his face side to side, inspecting him. You know what he means, not the Legos, or the science facts, the virgin part. It’s such a dumb thing to make fun of someone about something you’ve always been against. Why shame someone for such a personal choice? It’s their body, they can do what they want.

Plus, it’s kinda hot, being the first one to have him? The first one who gets to hear him, see him like that? Fuck, you wish that was you. Maybe you should offer? No, no, y/n, seriously, keep it in your pants.

Once you’re done with your inspection, you turn him to face you. “No, I’m not, who cares if you have or haven’t slept with someone, it’s not a big deal. Though I am surprised, a smart, handsome, sweet guy like you? I thought you’d have tons of girls under your belt. Bunch of math and science prodigies following you around like groupies, fighting to get in your pants.”

Because that’s who Miguel deserves someone smart, someone who can keep up with him—shit pull back, you’re making yourself insecure.

Miguel ducks his head, nuzzling into your palm as a result of the movement. “Thank you, for cleaning me up, and...you know.”

You smile, heart fluttering as Miguel leans into your touch. “No problem.”

You’re in wayyyy too deep.

Virgin Miguel bitchesssss

TL: @bat-bae, @nyctophilic0vitnir, @smokeywhalee, @obi-mom-kenobi, @prowlingforfood, @penggion, @crystal-crax, @oharasfilipinawife, @generalkenobitrash, @melsimps, @chrishy973, @farrowroyale, @palesatan, @scaryplanetdestroyer

#meg's writing #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #nerd miguel #nerd!miguel #college!miguel #college!reader #sorority!reader #nerd!miguel o'hara #college au #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n

[theres-a-body-here]

Everything is green and submarine

Montgomery Gator x Male!reader

Fluff

"Can ya believe it?!" Monty growled out, his voice rumbling against your legs as he fumed where he lay across your lap.

"Kid picks that rust bucket over me for 'is birthday party," he continued to complain, arms waving wildly as he went on about the situation. His tail swished back and forth in agitation, occasionally thumping against the couch.

His voice was low and irritated, his words practically dripping with disdain towards Freddy. He shifted slightly on your lap, trying to get comfortable despite his bad mood.

The movement caused him to lean more heavily onto you, not even seeming to notice as he continued to complain under his breath.

Despite himself, however, he seemed to relax somewhat under your gentle pats to his head. The metal alligator even let out a low hum of contentment before catching himself and scowling again. "Just… ugh! How could anyone pick him over me?"

"Monty," you start off, speaking softly as you run your fingers through his mohawk. "You can't be everyone's favorite."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he muttered begrudgingly, still gritting his teeth.

It wasn't fair, though; why did Freddy always seem to get all the attention?

Monty huffed quietly, glaring at nothing in particular as he tried to push down his frustration. He didn't want to take it out on you - after all, this wasn't your fault - but sometimes it just felt like nobody appreciated him enough.

And really, if he couldn't vent to you, who else would he vent to?

You were his boyfriend, weren't you?

So many thoughts ran rampant through his head, the sound of his internal fans whirring louder and louder as he struggled to sort through everything.

Wasn't he cool enough? Was he doing something wrong? Why did Freddy always get the spotlight?

All these questions flooded his coding, spinning round and round until suddenly, he felt your lips press against his snout.

"You'll always be my favorite," you whisper, apologetically. "I'm sorry I don't tell you that more often," you add, cupping his face and leaning in for another kiss.

Your words seemed to catch him off-guard, causing the alligator to blink slowly as he stared at you.

Then, hesitantly, he leaned into your next kiss, letting out a low purr. Even if he wasn't the most popular animatronic around, at least he had someone who loved him unconditionally. That much was clear in your gaze, the sincerity shining brightly within your eyes.

He nuzzled your hand gently, unable to help the purring from continuing.

"...Thanks, cher," he murmured, his tone softening.

He couldn't stay angry around you, especially when you looked at him like that.

With a heavy sigh, he sat up properly, leaning forward to wrap his arms around your shoulders and pull you into a hug. "Sorry fer bein' such a brat."

"I wouldn't love you any other way," you chuckled, nuzzling into his metal chest.

A warm feeling filled his core at those words, something pleasant blossoming within his wiring.

He squeezed you tighter for a moment before loosening his grip slightly, resting his chin on top of your head comfortably.

"Love ya too, cher," he replied softly, closing his eyes peacefully.

#male!reader #male reader #monty x reader #fnaf monty #monty gator #glamrock monty #montgomery gator x reader #montgomery gator #fnaf x reader #fnaf security breach #fnaf #security breach x reader #five nights at freddy's #fluff

[ghxstmxchine]

ʟɪᴘꜱᴛɪᴄᴋ ꜱᴛᴀɪɴꜱ

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: it's almost show time for your band but those minutes seem to be taking forever because of the tension between you and a certain guitarist in the band...

☆ ᴀ/ɴ: in the theme of me being terribly down bad for Hobie I wrote this. band au my beloved,,, and the reader plays bass bc that's the only instrument I'm good at

☆ ᴅᴇᴛᴀɪʟꜱ: SFW // Hobie Brown x male!reader // w.c: 1.6k // warnings: smoking, lots of shameless flirting, not proofread as per usual

“Hobie?” You call over your shoulder, swearing under your breath after your eyeliner pencil broke for what felt like the third time that weekend. That’s what you get for buying the cheapest option at the store.

There’s shuffling outside the dressing room, the door swinging open and Hobie leans against the door frame, eyes narrowed and staring closely at you and arms folded in front of his chest. “You called?”

“Got another eyeliner pencil? Mine keeps breaking.” You huff, knowing full well Hobie wore enough eyeliner on stage to rival a raccoon. He nods and disappears for a moment, returning with a small tube in hand. You breathe a sigh of relief, standing to go grab it from him but he quickly moves his arm out of reach, leaning in close enough that your faces are inches apart.

“Gonna say thank you or anything, luv?” He teases, a smirk playing on his lips painted black with lipstick. He’s so… close. Weirdly so, as if he’s trying to get some sort of reaction out of you. And he does, you can feel a strange warmth coursing through you that makes your knees feel weak.

But you step closer, ignoring the way your stomach twists quickly grabbing it from Hobie’s hand. “Yeah, thanks for recommending me such a shit eyeliner.” You mumble and roll your eyes, slumping back in front of the mirror to finish getting ready. 

“Mm, if I recall correctly I told you not to buy it. Someone didn’t want to listen, huh?” Hobie drawls, his hands resting on the back of your chair and watching you through the mirror as you apply the eyeliner, a lazy smile playing on his lips. There’s something about him tonight that you can’t place, the small room feeling stuffier than usual. “Thank god I had an extra, gotta make sure the pretty boy stays pretty.” He hums.

“As if I’m not pretty all the time?” You respond jokingly, trying to keep a steady hand as the pencil runs along your waterline, leaving behind a trail of black.

Hobie leans in closer, the chair groaning with his weight as his eyes meet yours in the mirror, they looked darker but it could’ve been the low light of the room. “Oh luv, you’re so much more than just pretty.” He says lowly, his breath tickling the shell of your ear and making your breath hitch. There was something bordering on dangerous about Hobie’s tone.

You click the cap back on the eyeliner, placing it on the table and not caring to even hand it to Hobie before rising to your feet and grabbing your jacket. “Are you drunk or something?” You ask as you shrug the jacket on, moving quickly to escape the heavy tension shrouding you both in the room.

Hobie holds his hands up in a defensive motion, grinning wildly at you. “Haven’t even touched a drop.” He chuckles without missing a beat. “What makes you think that?”

“Gonna be a big show tonight. We all deal with our anxieties differently.” You mumble, not exactly lying. Hobie shrugs and waves your implication off, stealing your seat to fix his own makeup as you leave the room to go find your bass.

You lug it off of the couch, throwing the strap over your shoulder as your other hand reaches for the cold metal of the pegs. It’s not as painfully out of tune as usual, the sound smooth and full as you pluck the strings, trying to focus on getting the right pitch and not how your brain is swirling with thoughts about Hobie. The way his voice sounds reverberates in your head more than the deep hum of the strings, the sounds mixing together in a strange stomach churning symphony.

It wasn’t exactly new, Hobie tended to be a flirty person and was completely shameless about it. It was almost like it was second nature for suggestive comments to spill from his lips, drinking up the sight of blushing faces and embarrassment like some sort of amorous vampire. You’d almost written it off as some sort of strange hazing when you first joined the band before you learned Hobie was just like that.

Well, he was like that with you specifically, his hand staying the few extra seconds on the small of your back whenever he passed behind you in the dressing room. Or those compliments on how good everyone looked seemingly being directed at you more than anyone else. And how he looked at you on stage, god he looked at you like you were some kind of meal.

Yeah, something was up with Hobie.

You cussed when your sweaty hand slips on the fretboard, messing up the bassline you’d been absentmindedly practicing for the past few minutes. You were nervous, struggling to get your hand back in place to play again, shaking too hard to press the strings down so they don’t rattle against the body.

You clamber to your feet, shoving your hands in your pocket and fishing out the last cigarette you’d managed to save this long. The outside air is cool and you can hear the far away chatter of fans queuing up outside the venue. Leaning against the cold brick of the alley wall, you light your cigarette and breathe out a cloud of smoke into the cold air.

“You got another I could bum off ya?” Hobie’s voice breaks your peace as he approaches, that same smirk on his face. 

“This was my last one.”

“I haven’t got anythin’ against sharing.” He chuckles and plucks it from your fingers without asking, slotting the cigarette between lipstick smeared lips and breathing in deeply. His lipstick stains the paper and he breathes the smoke out into your face, making your eyes water. “Y’know staring’s rude.”

“So is taking my cig.” You grunt and take it from his fingers, momentarily brushing against his hand. He’s warm and it makes you suck in a shocked breath, immediately averting your gaze from him. Ignoring the black lipstick stains you slip the cigarette back between your lips.

“And so is not sharing.” Hobie retorts, relaxing against the wall next to you, all his jewelry and pins jingling like a wind chime. He’s watching you and you know it, you can feel his heavy gaze on you and it’s nearly suffocating, watching from your peripheral as his eyes rove over your body. “What’s with the new look, tryin’ to catch someone’s eye?”

“Just felt like changing it up.” You mumble, ignoring the way your face gets hotter. Hobie’s heavy boots drag along the concrete as he steps in front of you, practically boxing you in. You stay cool, breathing smoke back in his face and he rolls his eyes.

“Well I like it, think you look stunnin’ dear.” Hobie drawls, his hand cupping your cheek. His hand is rough against your skin, the calluses from playing guitar are noticeable but something about it feels… good. Familiar in a way. His thumb strokes your cheekbone and your breath stutters, the cigarette falling from your lips to the ground but neither of you pay it any mind. “Mm, I like the eyeliner on you. Fits ya just right.”

“I like the lipstick.” You blurt out suddenly and Hobie chuckles, looming closer to your face. You can feel his breath on your cheek and it tickles but you don’t move, still firmly pressed against the wall. 

“Thought you would, too bad it gets messy too easily.”

“Messy, how?”

“Hm? You really don’t know luv?” He says breathlessly. You both are holding your breath, inches away from each other, waiting to see who will move first. Who will break the tension building in the air. His hand is on your hip and you don’t recall when it got there, his touch burning through your clothes and making your skin warm. “You want me to show you how?” 

You’re nodding before you even know you are, before you’re even aware of the feeling of Hobie’s lips on yours. It’s quick, barely taking a second before his weight is crushing you against the wall and his lips are pressed firmly against yours. It’s intoxicating, just the simple feeling is enough to make you light headed as he kneads your lips together, his lip ring cold on your skin but making your skin flare up with warmth.

His tongue traces the seam of your mouth, tasting nicotine and the small ball of his tongue piercing feels strange against your own tongue. You let him slip into your mouth, melding together as you move in tandem against each other, kissing shamelessly in the dimly lit alley way. Hobie is good, knowing just what to do to leave you breathless and you follow, turning into a strange tug of war for pleasure.

But before anything else can come from it, before his hand can move and lower on his lip and your head can turn any more cloudy, he pulls away. You both stand there huffing for a moment, bodies tingling and eyes dark with lust. Hobie’s lipstick is smeared on his face, black lines swiping down his chin and on his cheek.

“That’s how.” He hums without skipping a beat, pulling away and fixing his shirt. He steps on the cigarette, stubbing it out before turning on his heel. “Don’t forget that we go on in ten.” He says over his shoulder as he waltzes back towards the door, acting like nothing had happened. 

“And wipe the lipstick off your face before everyone starts starin’.” He adds before the door closes behind him, leaving you alone in the alley.

#atsv x reader #across the spiderverse #atsv #hobie brown #male reader #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x male reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown imagine #spiderpunk

[odairsangel]

𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 & 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

warnings: explicit language, alcohol use, sexual content, flirting and teasing, unprotected sex, oral (male receiving) degradation, pet name (“good girl”), praise kink—maybe, I don’t know

The air was heavy with the scent of burning wood and sweat, as the sounds of laughter and music filled the night. You stood at the edge of the crowd, sipping from a plastic cup filled with cheap beer, when you felt a pair of eyes on you. You glanced over your shoulder and locked eyes with Rafe, his gaze intense and unyielding. Something in the way he looked at you made your heart race, but you quickly dismissed it as nothing more than your overactive imagination.

You turned back to the party to continue flirting with a Touron, but couldn't shake the feeling that Rafe was still watching you. Suddenly, he was there, his hands gripping your shoulders tightly. "What the fuck were you thinking?" he hissed in your ear, anger radiating off him in waves. "You were practically flaunting yourself in front of him." You felt his hot breath against your neck as he led you through the crowd, towards an empty room.

Without another word, he pushed you inside and slammed the door shut behind you. The room was dimly lit, the only source of light a small lamp on the dresser. Rafe grabbed you roughly by the wrist and pulled you over to the bed, tossing you down onto the rumpled sheets. His body crashed down on top of yours, pinning you to the mattress. His hands gripped your wrists above your head, holding you in place as he began to kiss and nibble his way down your neck. "You like that, huh?" he growled, his voice thick with anger and desire. "You wanted attention, well now you've got it."

He ground his hips against yours, his erection pushing painfully against your exposed center. You arched your back, trying to escape his weight, but he only held you tighter. His words stung like a slap in the face as he continued to taunt you. "You could've had this all along, you know," he panted, "but no, you had to go and flirt with someone else." His hands left your wrists to trail lower, pushing your shirt up and exposing your stomach. His fingers dug into your skin as he roughly pulled down your pants, revealing your underwear-clad sex to his hungry gaze.

"But that's alright, isn't it?" he growled, "You like it like this, don't you?" He lowered his head, taking one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking hard as he began to thrust against you, grinding his hips against yours in time with the movement. You cried out, unable to hold back the pleasure and the pain of it all. He moved his mouth to your other nipple, biting down gently as he increased the force of his thrusts, his hips slamming into you with a force that made it hard to breathe.

"Yeah," he growled, "you like that, you dirty slut." His free hand slipped between your legs, finding your wetness and rubbing roughly against it. "You like this, don't you?" His fingers dug into your skin, causing you to arch your back even further. "You wanted attention, well you've got it now, you little whore."

His words stung, but the pleasure was too intense to ignore. You moaned, your hips instinctively meeting his thrusts as he continued to tear into you with harsh, demanding words. You felt your body begin to tighten, the sensation building inside you, threatening to explode out of you.

"That's it," he growled, sensing your imminent release. His thrusts became more frantic, more urgent, as he sought to push you over the edge. "Come for me, you little whore." His fingers dug deeper, his touch rough and demanding, as if he was trying to claim you as his own.

Your body arched off the bed, a sharp cry escaping your lips as your orgasm crashed over you in a wave of intense pleasure. Your muscles spasmed, your inner walls gripping him in time with each powerful thrust. He followed you over the edge, his body tensing as he groaned out his own release, his hips bucking wildly against yours as he filled you with his seed.

His weight pressed down on you, pinning you to the mattress as he gasped for air. His chest heaved, his muscles still tense from the exertion of their rough, passionate coupling. After a few moments, he rolled off you, collapsing onto his back beside the bed. You lay there, panting heavily, your heart racing and your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasm.

You wanted to hate him for what he'd just done, for how he'd made you feel. But the truth was, you couldn't help but feel a strange sense of release, of satisfaction. His words had been cruel, but his touch had been unmistakably passionate and intense. You couldn't deny the physical pleasure you'd found in his rough embrace.

As you lay there, catching your breath, you became aware of the weight of his gaze on you. He watched you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you wondered if he regretted what had just happened between you. Then, before you could decide whether to say anything, he rolled back onto you, pinning your wrists above your head once more.

"That's enough," he growled, his voice rough with exhaustion. "You've had your fun." His hips shifted, his erection still pressed against your leg. "Now it's time for you to go back to being my good girl." He moved his body so that he was partially on top of you, his chest heaving as he stared down at you. "Do you understand me?"

You nodded, unable to meet his gaze. The weight of his words and his touch pressed down on you, making it hard to breathe. "Yes," you managed to whisper. "I understand."

He smiled then, a cruel and predatory smile that sent a shiver down your spine. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice almost gentle. "That's a good girl." His hips shifted again, grinding against you as he continued to tease your sensitive flesh. “Now, do you want to suck my cock, like a good little slut?” He growls, teasing your clit with his fingers.

You nodded, feeling a mixture of desire and fear coursing through your veins. You wanted to please him, to make him happy again, but you were also terrified of what he might do to you if you disobeyed. Slowly, hesitantly, you lowered your head towards his groin, taking in the powerful scent of him, the heat emanating from his skin.

His hips twitched impatiently, and you felt the head of his cock brush against your lips. His hands tangled in your hair, guiding you as you took him deeper into your mouth. You closed your eyes, focusing on the sensation of him filling your mouth, the taste of him on your tongue. You moaned around him, unable to contain the mixture of pleasure and shame that coursed through you.

His fingers dug into your scalp, holding you in place as he began to thrust his hips roughly, fucking your mouth in time with his harsh words. "That's it, you dirty little whore. Suck it like you mean it." His hips bucked wildly, his cock thrusting deeper and deeper into your throat, making you gag and choke. He growled in approval, the sound vibrating against your lips.

You felt a wave of pleasure course through you, mingled with the sharp sting of pain as he pushed you past your limits. Your eyes watered and your throat burned, but you refused to give up. You were determined to please him, to make him happy again. Your tongue swirled around the head of his cock, tasting the saltiness of his skin, the musky flavor of his arousal.

His hips bucked wildly, his grip on your hair growing tighter as he neared his climax. You could feel the tension building in his body, the tremors that ran through him as he fought to control himself. Finally, with a hoarse cry, he thrust deeply into your throat, his hips snapping forward as he came, filling your mouth with his hot, thick seed.

For a moment, you were afraid he might push you away, but instead he leaned forward, his weight pressing you into the bed, his breath hot against your ear. "That's a good girl," he growled, his voice husky with satisfaction. "You're such a good little slut." He kissed your neck, his lips soft and gentle compared to the harshness of his words. "I think I might keep you after all."

The words sent a shiver down your spine, a mixture of fear and hope. You knew that he could be cruel, but you also knew that when he was like this, when he was satisfied and content, there was a tenderness to him that was almost sweet. You tried to focus on that tenderness, to hold onto it as if it were a lifeline.

He pulled back slightly, his gaze boring into yours, searching for some sign of submission, of understanding. You forced yourself to meet his stare, to show him that you were his, that you belonged to him. His grip on your hair eased, and he leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice barely audible above the sound of our labored breathing. "You've made me very happy tonight." His fingers trailed down your neck, tracing the lines of your collarbone, before moving lower, over your chest and stomach. He paused for a moment, his touch teasing and taunishing as it danced across your sensitive flesh.

His other hand slid between your legs, teasing at your wetness. "You're still so wet for me," he murmured, his voice a husky growl. "I think I might have to fuck you again, just to make sure you're properly satisfied." He slipped a finger inside you, finding your aching core. You arched your back, letting out a moan as he began to thrust gently, matching his movements with your hips.

His touch was tender now, almost loving, as if he were trying to erase the memory of his earlier brutality. He kissed you again, this time softly, his lips lingering on yours, their heat seeping into your very soul. You felt a new wave of desire build within you, a need to feel him inside you again, to feel the power and the protection that he brought to your body.

As he continued to stroke you, his finger finding your sweet spot over and over again, you arched your back, moaning into his kiss. The feeling of being so completely and utterly desired by him was intoxicating, and you couldn't help but lose yourself in the sensation. His other hand moved up to cup your breast, his thumb teasing the hardening peak as he continued to thrust his finger inside you.

His kiss deepened, and you could feel his desire growing, his body pressing harder against yours. You knew that he was close, and you wanted nothing more than to feel him inside you again, to feel the power and possession that he brought to this moment. You pressed your hips upward, meeting his thrusts, urging him on.

His finger found your entrance, wet and ready for him, and with a groan he thrust forward, sinking deep inside you. You gasped at the feeling of being filled so completely, at the way his movements seemed to echo through your entire body. He began to move, his hips undulating against yours as he found a steady rhythm. His other hand moved to cup your breast, his thumb teasing your nipple as he took possession of you once again.

Finally, Rafe pulls his fingers out of your wet folds, nodding with satisfaction “Now, promise me not to flirt with a worthless Toron again, when you can have the Kook King. Promise?” He growls into your ears, his breath warm and intoxicating. Your body tingles at the thought of having him all to yourself, of being the only one who can make you feel this way. You nod fervently, your hands clutching at the sheets beneath you.

He smirks, watching your reaction, before leaning forward and kissing you once more, his tongue pushing past your lips to dance with yours. His touch is firm but gentle, his fingers trailing down your stomach and lower, teasing at the curls between your legs. He finds your entrance, slipping one finger inside you, and you moan into his kiss, arching your back as he begins to thrust in a steady rhythm.

As Rafe finally stops with his teasing with his finger, he looks down at you, his lips grazing yours, showing his appreciation for your submission. “Let’s get ya cleaned up, yeah?”

#rafe cameron #outerbanks rafe #rafe obx #rafe #rafe smut #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe cam #rafe cameron x reader #rafe ca #rafe cameron fanfiction #obx #obx smut #obx fic #obx fanfiction #obx imagine #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron imagine

[superblysubpar]

masterlist | the music

4.2k words | This is an 18+ NSFW series

epilogue warnings: see that fun little e word? yeah you're missing a whole bunch, and I strongly encourage you to head to the masterlist linked above and read their story! I had fun writing it (most days), I hope you have fun reading it | there's a hint to a lovely little thing @rebelfell wrote for Eddie on Halloween Party night and I am not only incredibly touched that something I wrote inspired her to write, but I am grateful for the blessing to leave his story open for more exploration using her story 💛 | mentions of the holiday Christmas being celebrated by reader | minor descriptions of PIV smut, but ultimately it's some good old fade to black movie shit

Steve’s hands cup the back of your head, tilting you open for him as he ducks down, mouth hovering above yours as he speaks like you’re the only two people in the world. 

“But right now? Right now I’m gonna kiss you.”

“Which bad 90s rom com you steal that one out of, Harrington?” You whisper against his lips. 

Steve smiles, gaze tracing the curve of your lips then meeting yours as he takes a deep breath. 

“You liked it.” 

And maybe the marquee lights twinkle above you a little brighter as you finally meet in a kiss. Maybe snowflakes start drifting down from the clouds lazily, covering everything in a fresh start right at the moment his hands wrap around your waist and pull you impossibly closer, your back arching from the passion of his kiss. Maybe a terrible top forty song blares out of someone’s car as it drives past, your foot popping off the pavement a little when he pulls away for a breath only to lean and kiss you deeper and slower. 

The universe can’t guarantee anything for you and Steve, but it is giving you a chance. There is nothing, not even love, that can keep away the inevitable struggle, heartbreak, or loss life will be sure to throw at you. Which is scary, but doing it together, his hand in yours, makes it less so. Yes, it won’t always be easy, but the hard work you’ll both put in when it isn’t, means it’s real. There is no one other than yourselves who can decide if your relationship could be like the movies. The two of you are the only ones that can calculate if there’s still time for a happy ending in your story. Only Steve and you can be certain that the fear of heartbreak or pain is worth taking the risk, because if you don’t, if you let the chance slip away, you’ll never know if one day you could have called it love. 

Eddie’s nose presses into your navel, fingers adjusting on your hips as you squirm. 

“Eddie!”

“Hold still!” He laughs, your green plastic shamrock hanging from your neck knocks against his forehead as his arms move to wrap around the back of your thighs. 

“We’re on the other side!” Robin screams into her phone. A boy with a jug full of nauseating lime colored liquid brushes up against her, smiling with green tinged lips. She wrinkles her nose as he hiccups, liquor and kool-aid sloshing from the jug out onto the sidewalk and narrowly missing her shoes. 

“I can see-Fuck!” You shout, arm raising to wave but body hunching, falling over Eddie’s head as he adjusts and almost drops you. 

Fingers grip his curls at the sudden balance issues, eliciting a quiet “Ow,” from him and a soft “Sorry,” from you. 

Robin huffs into the phone, craning her neck and hand hovering behind your back like she alone could prevent Eddie dropping you over the railing and into the river. “I’m wearing green - well light green!”

Eddie snorts a laugh into your hip as he pushes you higher, your fingers wrap around the cement and you pull yourself up, waving your arms wildly to bring attention to your group as Eddie holds your lower half up, bracing his back against the railing.  

Just on the other side of the bridge, you see him clinging to a light pole, body slowly circling it, head swiveling in all directions with the phone pressed to his ear. His hair has gotten darker from the lack of sun, longer too, and it curls slightly behind his ears and at the nape of his neck, blowing in the light breeze. 

When he makes his final turn, he sees you as your arms drop. His grin widens, bright even from this far. You watch his mouth move as he speaks into the phone without taking his eyes off of you. 

Robin calls up, rolling her eyes, “He says you’re really pretty.”

Your head throws back in a deep laugh, the movement causing Eddie to panic and adjust his hands holding your legs and you both topple to the ground, taking Robin with you as your leg bangs against the cement railing at just the right angle, hard.

The people of Chicago simply walk around the three of you, as you lay on the cold and dirty sidewalk moaning. 

“Your foot is in my spleen Edward, get off,” Robin whines, shoving at his shoulders.

“Don’t get mad at me, I’m not the one who decided to fall!” He rolls, but freezes as you wince.

You sit up, rubbing at your knee, closing your eyes with a choked off whimper, willing the tears that want to spring out from the sharp pain away. 

“Shit, uh, ice? I can go see if someone has ice?” Robin asks, eyes wide and blinking down at you when you open yours.

Eddie’s nose scrunches, head tilting as he asks, “Why would anyone have ice just walking around?”

“I don’t know, it’s St. Patrick’s Day, people need it for their drinks! Oh! I can call Nancy, she’s still sleeping, but-”

“Robin,” you laugh, cutting her off, “I’m fine. Just give me a sec.”

As you press your palms to the cement and brace yourself to stand, you wince again and his voice is suddenly right in front of you.

“Hey, hey, hey, stop.” 

Looking up, Steve is crouching down, hands reaching toward your leg. Light jeans and a deep, hunter green sweatshirt revealed to you under his now open gray peacoat. Dark strands of hair fall over his forehead, slightly covering the lines of worry deepening as he frowns at your knee. Something inside your chest swells, like thousands of butterflies are waking up and migrating to your stomach and causing dumb and unfiltered words to fall out of your mouth. 

“Do you have a band-aid? I think I scraped my knee falling for you.”

Steve snorts out a laugh, eyes bright, the sweater making the moss in them outshine the brown as he looks at you with amusement. Robin and Eddie boo in tandem behind your shoulders.

Steve’s hand curls around your ankle, gold ring on his middle finger glinting as his thumb brushes the skin under your pant leg as he shakes his head, “Honey, I’m gone for two days and look at you. How am I gonna be able to leave for three months?”

“They said yes?!” Forgetting your pain, you lean forward, hands grabbing his cheeks as he nods, bottom lip fitting between yours as he kisses you with a sigh. 

Steve's hand curls around your neck, thumb sliding down along your jaw as he kisses you like you are very much not in public, your stomach swooping as his tongue traces the curve of your top lip. 

“You're both sick,” Eddie gags.

“May I remind you,” Robin starts as Steve and you part, breathless, his eyes rolling and mouth fighting a smile as she keeps going, “That the sidewalk is probably covered in piss and puke and who knows what else and we are not that far from the spot where Dave Matthews literally dumped shi-”

“We know!” The three of you call out in tandem, interrupting the story you all could recite with the same inflections and punchlines she does. 

“Steve, I'm so happy for you. Those kids are gonna have the best time,” speaking quietly to him, your fingers curl the hair around his ear that's turning pink and he dips his head, bashful. 

“I hope so. I think it's cool that these players are gonna take breaks in their schedule and donate their time to teach them. I mean, they're gonna get experiences and lessons that they would never have gotten if not for this program and…sorry.” He shakes his head, biting back his excitement.

You lift his chin and give him another soft, and chaste kiss. The thundering of your heartbeat in your ears is worse than it’s ever been, the words sit ready on your tongue, but just don't come out. 

His eyes bounce between yours, like he’s waiting, before he finally looks down, clearing his throat as he gestures to your knee. “Can I?”

Feeling warm from the missed moment and under his concern, all you can do is nod silently. Steve’s thumbs slide over the sides of your kneecap, pressing gently and you wince. He tilts his head, fingers moving up to prod at the spot again and you grab his wrist with a whimper. 

“Well, I think bar hopping all day is out of the question,” Steve smiles sadly at you, “I think we should get some ice and heat on it. Prop it up.”

“But-” you start to protest and Robin interrupts.

“Already called an Uber, we can head to Nance and I's, have a chill day and then head to Murray's later tonight like originally planned.”

Sighing because you know you'll never win against the two of them teamed up, you nod. Steve’s arm curls around your waist as he helps you stand, both of you looking around with a frown.

“Where's Eddie?” You ask, head swiveling. 

Robin shrugs, gesturing behind you. “I don't know, he just took off running across the bridge when he got this look on his face. He was gone before I could ask.” She punches Steve’s shoulder, smiling, “Congrats Dingus.”

He smiles and lets you go, fingers slipping from your side as his arms wrap around her in a tight hug. As they squeeze each other, you take the opportunity to glance up at the circular, familiar towers. The stream of green clad people entering and exiting the House of Blues and you smile to yourself, thinking about the first time you were here and how far you’ve all come in just a year. 

Eddie rounds the corner, coming off the bridge then. His hands shoved in his leather jacket’s pockets, dirty sneaker dragging and kicking a pebble as he shakes his head, shoulders dropping in disappointment. 

“What’s the matter, tough guy?” You pout, tilting your head.

He waves it away, shrugging, “Nothing,” and your eyes narrow as he claps Steve on the shoulder, “Congrats, man.”

“Thanks.” They both hit each other’s shoulders in a hug and you make eye contact with Eddie over Steve’s shoulder, arms crossing and eyebrows raised at him. 

He rolls his eyes, knowing you know it isn’t nothing and he will not be able to run from you. 

“Uber’s here!” 

Steve’s nose buries itself deeper into the crook of your neck, his chest rising and falling even with deep breaths. You brush the hair from his forehead and kiss his temple. 

Smiling against his skin, you look up to see Eddie staring at the two of you. A deep frown pulls his lips down, his thumbs dragging against the label of the beer in his hands, shredding it slowly. 

“Sorry,” you whisper, hoping the sudden movement of your chest and noise of your voice doesn’t wake Steve. “I just missed him. I know the PDA is gross.”

“Hmm?” Eddie hums, like he didn’t really hear you, blinking at you confused. 

Gesturing with your free arm to him you explain, “You look kind of upset about our cuddling. And you were all grumpy at the river.”

He was fairly silent during the ride to Nancy and Robin’s, letting you prop your leg up on his thighs with your back against Steve’s chest as he stared out the window. Robin disappeared into their bedroom an hour ago, claiming to go wake Nancy who’d gotten in after midnight from chasing a story on the east coast, but you’re certain she’s asleep next to her. Steve had helped you to the couch, gingerly rolling your jeans up, mumbling his diagnosis around a wince at the sight of your swollen knee. He set you up with ice and a pillow, and you couldn’t blame him for also falling asleep after his busy weekend of meetings and flights. 

And Eddie was silent through it all, the only sound in the apartment being Charlie running around on screen trying to catch a Leprechaun in an episode of It’s Always Sunny. He just shakes his head, avoiding the question. 

“Come on Eddie, spill the beans. Open the door.” Prodding him with a smile and a small shrug of your shoulders. 

He smiles around a sip of beer, but shakes his head again. Eddie stands, punching the mantle lightly, before he turns and looks at Steve, then you as he blurts, “How’d you do it?”

Your brows pinch together as you question, “How’d I do what?”

“Fall in love again after…after being so hurt. What was the first step?”

His question surprises you, palms sweating as your skin prickles from a familiar burn. Glancing down at Steve before you stumble over a response, “We’re not…I’m not…I haven’t…”

Eddie gives you a look of disbelief, like you’re really trying to lie to him and he sits down on your other side. His eyebrows furrow under his bangs as he looks out the window seeming to be looking at something much further away.

“Okay, fine, easier question. Do you believe in soul mates?”

“What?” Blinking at him and wondering where he is going with all of this, your body squirming under the weight of Steve growing heavier. 

Eddie waves his hand around, searching for the words. “You know destiny. Help from the universe. A plan for everything. Fate and shit.”

Cocking your head to the side, you ponder his words. Steve’s arm sits curled around your waist and a soft snore leaves him, breath hitting your chest and you smile. “Yeah, I think I do. Never used to…but I don’t know. I think it’s nice to believe in those kinds of things sometimes.”

Eddie nods, the last of the label ripping and he swallows harshly before looking back up at you. His big, brown eyes blink at you seriously, full of more hope than you’ve ever seen in a person before. 

“Do you think you’re not supposed to meet them until you get your shit together? Like you’re meant to meet them at the right time? And how do you know it’s the right time? What if the right time passes you by?”

“I think,” you start, careful with your words as they come out. Your fingers brush through Steve’s hair carefully, whispering your answer as you stare at his cheek, “I think that sure, when you know, you know about someone. But that doesn’t mean admitting it to yourself, or anyone else for that matter, is easy. And maybe there is a plan, a person for everyone, but it’s up to you to decide when the time is right. Because,” you laugh quietly and Steve adjusts against you, his legs sandwiching your thigh and you look at Eddie, “Your shit is never gonna be together without that person, if they really are the one, right? Because wouldn’t your life not be perfect, whatever that means…or not on the right track, without them? Does that make any sense?”

“Yeah,” he smiles sadly at his bottle, brows furrowing even deeper, “Yeah it does. Thanks.”

He looks at Steve and then back at you, shaking his head. “Sweetheart, you really haven’t told him?”

Swallowing loudly, your heartbeat picks up as your mouth parts to blurt out an excuse. Eddie only raises his empty beer bottle with a smirk, and stands, leaving you alone with Steve. 

It’s just not that simple. 

You’ve wanted to say it so many times over the last year, but the words never come out. Despite the work you’ve put in with yourself and your relationship, despite knowing it’s better to say it than spend your life wondering what if, saying that is still scary. 

Love is a powerful emotion and word not to be thrown around, but you also know the words are never just going to come out on their own. You will have to actively decide to say them, to take the leap into the unknown and leave your heart open even more for Steve. 

“Oh no,” Robin laughs around a moan. 

Nancy and your shot glasses hit the table, tart lime releasing over your tongue to counter some of the sting of the tequila flowing down your throat. Robin shakes her head and gestures to the stage and a cackling laugh leaves you as Steve winks at the table, tossing the microphone in the air from his spot waiting on deck for karaoke. 

“Oh, god, we need more tequila,” Nancy laughs, fingers covering her smile as she hiccups. 

Robin points at her. “No more tequila.”

“But, babe, this is going to be bad,” Nancy whines, “You’ve heard him-”

“Oh no.” You bury your head in your arms on the sticky table as the name of his song choice flashes on the screen. 

Robin starts laughing uncontrollably and Steve clears his throat, looking directly at you where you peek out from behind your hands. “This is for you baby.” He points to you as the beginning notes of Rocketman by Elton John begin to drift from the speakers and the crowd cheers and whistles. 

“Here, you’re gonna need this when he hits the falsetto,” Eddie hands you a beer, distributing more drinks around the table, shaking his head. 

You can’t help but have a smile so wide that your cheeks hurt as Steve sings to you, dramatic facial expressions and pressing his hand to his chest, winking at you as he declares he’s a rocket man. You can’t help but cheer, and feel hot under his stare, can’t help but think about saying those words right then and there, what if you just screamed them across the bar for everyone to hear. 

“Holy shit,” Eddie sputters on his beer next to you. 

“What?” You turn, confused, worried you actually did blurt them out. 

“She’s…she’s here. I thought I saw her at the river, that’s where I went, and l lost her, and she’s here. She’s…”

“Who, what?” You step closer to him, leaning in and he spins your shoulders and points to a girl at the bar.

“I met her at that disastrous Halloween party a year ago and she was perfect and awesome and you and Steve had to go and pretend like you weren’t in love and fuck it all up.”

“We weren’t-”

“Please, who shows up in a couples costume accidentally. Boy loved you then and he loves you now. But none of that matters because she’s here.” His cheeks are pink, staring at her and gulping. “That’s a sign right? What do I do?”

“Go get her.” You shove his shoulder with a smile and his eyes widen, but he nods, taking a step towards the bar. 

He pauses, and you wonder if it’s his moment, his what if, his leap. You smile as he squares his shoulders and keeps going, stopping in front of the girl who looks at him surprised. She smiles as he extends his hand, ears red and talking nonstop. She takes it, shaking it and nodding. 

Steve is bowing to cheering from Robin and Nancy as he approaches the table and Murray clears his throat in the microphone. 

“Well, uh, that sure was somethin’ huh?” He frowns at Steve and deadpans to the crowd, “We’re gonna take a break now.”

You hide your laughter into the beer as Steve drums on the table, smiling at you, leaning in close. Lips brushing over your ear as he teases, “I cannot believe you have a thing for Elton John.”

Your head throws back in a laugh as he kisses under your ear, his smile sticking to your skin as you nod. “You got me, Harrington.”

Steve and you stand close together and he smiles at something over your shoulder and clears his throat, “Hey, um, how’s your knee? Feel like sitting for a little?”

His fingers tangle with yours, his voice soft, and something in you melts under his gaze as you nod.

“Great,” he kisses you lightly, pulling away and guiding you across the room, coming to a stop in front of the vintage photo booth. “I think we should try this again.”

As he pulls the red curtain back and sits, this time, you don’t hesitate when he pats his thigh. Your heart hammers inside of your chest, the metal armor around it clatters to the floor with one final knock. 

Steve’s arms wrap around your waist easily, fingers slipping together as he clears his throat and leans forward, looking at you as he asks with a smile, “Ready?”

In that moment, you wish there was a photobooth to capture every moment of the last year - every memory. 

You nod, the machine whirring to life as you smile at each other for the first photo. As the flash happens, Steve lets out a shaky breath, your hands moving up to his jaw without really thinking about it. Your fingertips trace over his face, eyebrows, his nose, the pair of freckles on his cheek and his cupid’s bow as his hands squeeze up your waist and sides. 

You wish there had been a camera when Steve surprised you with dinner that first week together. Your favorite food, a bottle of wine, and then he slow danced with you to ‘It Had To Be You’ in his living room. You could have said it then, a week of barely dating, but it felt so easy. 

Steve leans into your touch as the second flash happens. You twist in his lap, breath coming sharper as you straddle him, your nose brushing up his as you smile. 

If only there had been a camera when Steve came over to your apartment and found you crying over your phone screen, the animal shelter page was brought up and he went with you the next day. Why didn’t you blurt it out then, when back at his place, he was on all fours, a small black lab’s head tilted at him curiously. Steve held a plush sword and whispered in a terrible voice “Your name is Inigo Montoya, I killed your father, I’m prepared to die,” and pretended to be impaled by the sword when the rescued puppy pounced on him. 

Steve’s hand moves up your spine slowly, his other cupping your jaw as your lips just brush when the third flash goes off. 

If you’re being honest with yourself, it’s been an active fight to not say those three little words to him since Christmas. You had a fight, and of course it was about money. How you had seen the package with European stamps and he said it was a present for you and you yelled about how he can’t just buy expensive things because he can and what were you supposed to do, how were you supposed to get him a gift of equal value. That’s when he ripped open the brown shipping package, lifting out of packing peanuts, a glass blue dish - just like the one that shattered. He held it carefully, shaking his head, apologizing for breaking the original, for knowing that he couldn’t replace it, but he searched and searched and found this one. Nobody had a camera, and you didn’t say it, because that’s when you knew. That’s when it got really scary and really real. 

Steve’s lips press to yours as the fourth flash happens, your stomach dropping like a roller coaster as his breath exhales into your inhale. 

Easier than breathing. 

“Will you move in with me?”

“I love you.”

Both questions asked in sync and you blink, shocked. Steve keeps going, eyes closed as he speaks, “I know it’s a big step, but I think we’re ready and…”

“Yes.”

“Wait, what did you say?”

Steve’s eyes shoot open, your response and his question leaving you both at the same time again. 

Your eyes are full of tears, laughing as you cup his cheeks and exhale, repeating the words. 

“I love you.”

The fifth flash goes off as Steve smiles, thumb holding your chin as he gulps around the words. “I love you too.”

Steve’s fingers fumble with his keys, refusing to separate his lips from yours until you’re speaking into them, an ache in your gut as your fingers scratch at the back of his head.

“Baby, hurry.”

He whimpers into your lips, “Not fair.”

It’s a mess of keys hitting the floor and shoes and coats ripped off, easy laughter as he attacks your neck with hot presses of his lips, frantic as he speaks around them, “Fast enough for you, huh?”

“Steve,” you stutter over your laugh, toes curling against the carpet as he sucks on that spot he found just below your ear.  

He’s smug, speaking into your neck as his hands on your hips guide you backwards until your knees hit his bed. He gasps out a desperate plea as you both fall. 

“Say it again.”

Your fingers curl the hair around his ears, swallowed whole by the forest in his eyes, you want to be buried there as you raise your head from the sheets. 

“I.” A kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

“Love.” He exhales as your lips skim over his jaw. 

“You.” Lips dragging over the two moles on his neck and he melts against you. 

He lifts himself, palms pressed to the mattress next to your head, saying it right back like it’s a promise. 

“I love you.”

He unbuckles your jeans, carefully removing them. Kissing your ankle, your knee, and then the crease of your thigh as he murmurs into your skin, “I love how you slap my shoulder when the colors in a sunset change. And that you mouth along the words to your favorite movies.”

His fingers drag up your shirt, lips and nose grazing up your stomach as you squirm beneath him. 

“I love the way you dance in the kitchen as you burn anything you touch and sing so off key into your shampoo bottle in the shower.”

He keeps going, telling you every little thing he’s grown to love about you, only stopping when you start to interrupt him and do the same. Soft touches and lingering kisses between words whispered to each other that replace your breaths, because it’s not easier than doing so, it’s what gives you the ability to be able to. 

When his hand flexes on your waist, a slow thrust in and your back arches, his head dips into your neck and he pauses his movements. Steve’s nose drags along the gold chain that rests between your collarbones. He props himself up, free hand grazing up your side as your hips roll once slowly, and he lifts the little gold ‘S’ hanging from it. 

“Mine,” he whispers.

You nod, body shivering with the word and the gentle tug he gives the necklace. 

“Yours.”

Lips meet desperately, as your bodies melt together, declarations of devotion spoken between sweet kisses and praise. Steve’s fingers lace with yours as you both climb higher and higher. Gripping each other’s hands, pushed above your head and into the mattress, as planets align, euphoria breaks over you like waves crashing, flames burning hotter, stars exploding, and you finally meet each other where you’ve always been meant to - calling it love. 

WCIL Taglist: @loveshotzz @myobmaya @sweetsweetjellybean @pastel-pillows @littlesubbyflower @johnricharddeacy @freezaz123 @selfdeprecatingnerd @big-ope-vibes @manda-panda-monium @hellkaisersangel @yogizzz @soulmatecashton @happytimeunicorns @mandyjo8719 @lunarxeclipse @buckleylips @beckkthewreck @differentdeputyfishpaper @supardupar @micheledawn1975 @imjuststeddietrashatthispoint @sagelittleplace @totally-bogus-timelady @steves-babysitter @fallinginlovewithqueue @aftermidnightwriting @omgshesinsane @pootcullen @definitionwanderlust @nostalgiafool @palmtreesx3 @scoopshxrrington @live-the-fangirl-life @eddiesguitarskills @mannstarkey @keepingitlokiii @silkholland @redbarn1995

#we'll call it love #steve harrington #modern!steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington series #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfic

[amhrosina]

Hiii

I LOVE your work, and I was wonderful if you could write something with hurt/comfort with Matt Murdock?

Like you were coming home late and someone was following you home, and Matt hears you heart beat and comes to find you juste before the creepy person makes a move on you? And the reader is like “I’m fine, I’m okay” even tho she crying very hard and can’t breathe and Matt is like “no you’re not, but it’s okay I’ll take care of you” and then he takes care of reader and it’s fluff and comfort?

Thank youuuuu

Savior (Matt Murdock x Reader)

A/N: Hiiii! Thank you for reading! It's a short ficlet, but I ended up really liking how it turned out! Also, Charlie Cox is so, so PRETTY. A special thank you to my beta reader @wheredidiputmyfish for being so great! <3 (Word Count: 1.0k)

MASTERLIST // JOIN MY TAGLIST

You didn’t fully comprehend the predicament you were in until it changed from sketchy to dangerous. Hell’s Kitchen was especially quiet that night, though the argument could be made that it never fully went to sleep. Bodegas, laundromats, and diners stayed open late into the night, and it was the light spilling from their fogged windows that lit your route home.  

You knew Matt wouldn’t be happy with your decision to walk home alone. He’d warned you time and time again to wait for him, or get a taxi if he wasn’t around, but taxis were expensive, and he hadn’t answered your call earlier. Now, you cursed yourself for not waiting. 

The man behind you had been following you for thirteen blocks – you'd counted in nervous breaths – and he was gaining on you. You walked at an increasingly rapid pace, heart thundering as you blindly dug through your bag for the pepper spray Foggy had gifted you when you’d moved to the city. It was big and a stark blue, with the words “I Heart NY” stamped around it, but your hands were shaking so badly that even if you could find it in the black hole that was your tote bag, you weren’t sure you’d be able to use it.

You turned the corner, nervously glancing at the stranger out of the corner of your eye, and almost yelped at the proximity he had gained. He was within ten feet of you, and you didn’t give yourself a chance to hesitate before you took off running. 

“Hey!” He called. 

You ignored him, pushing your legs to move faster. You could see the entrance to your building, a tiny speck in the distance, and you prayed Matt was close enough to hear your racing heart. The man’s feet pounded on the concrete behind you, and you let out a wild shriek that you hoped would alert someone nearby. If it was heard by anyone, they didn’t make it known. You were alone, and the man was so close to you now that you knew you’d be grabbed by him before you could make it to the safety of your building.  

Arms wrapped around your middle, hauling you into an alley. You began shrieking at the top of your lungs, if only to make it harder for your attacker to get away with whatever he planned to do. 

“Leave me alone! Stop!” You fought with all your might, swinging and kicking wildly in front of you in a last-ditch effort to get away. “Get off me, you fucking creep!”  

Hands cradled your face. 

“It’s me. It’s me, sweetheart.” Matt’s smooth voice coaxed your eyes open. You hadn’t even realized they were closed. “You’re safe, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” 

You blinked up at him in relief. Your heart thundered in your chest, making it hard to breathe. He wasn’t in his Daredevil suit, but the way he clenched his jaw told you that the Devil was itching to come out and play.  

“There was a man,” you started, voice scratchy from the screams you’d let out, “He was following me. I-I know I should’ve waited for you to come get me, but I didn’t want to bother you and then this guy showed up and I was trying to find the pepper spray but-” You were rambling now, gulping in air and waving your arms around as you explained.  

“Are you okay?” Matt asked, softly caressing the curve of your cheekbone.  

“Yeah.” You nodded. The lie tasted ashy on your tongue.  

“You’re crying, sweetheart.”  

“I-I’m fine.” You stuttered, attempting to blink the tears away. “I’m fine.” You tried again, but your voice wobbled as the words left your lips. You couldn’t tell if you were trying to convince him or yourself at that point. Matt nodded along with you, kissing your temple.  

“Let’s get you home, okay? You’re safe now. No one will ever hurt you again, okay? I’ve got you.” He led you to the apartment you shared with him, only letting go when you sunk into the cushions of the couch. “I’m going to make you some tea, okay?” 

“Okay.” Your voice was wispy, barely audible to anyone besides Matt, who had tuned himself to you so thoroughly that you sometimes felt like he could read your thoughts. Like right then, as the thought entered your brain, and he responded before you could even finish the thought. Some Chamomile tea would be grea- 

“Is Chamomile alright?” He called, clinking the mug against the counter. 

“Yeah, Matty. Thank you.” You breathed through your anxiety and wondered what happened to the man who’d been following you. 

- 

Later that evening, after he’d drawn you a bath and tucked you into bed, the Devil finally got what he wanted. Matt hadn’t mentioned it to you, but he’d been diligently tracking the stranger’s heartbeat since he’d intervened earlier that evening, and as soon as your heartbeat evened out, suggesting your deep slumber, Matt was jumping across rooftops towards the irregular heartbeat he’d been listening to all evening.  

He wasn’t sure what he was going to do once he got his hands on the guy who had followed you earlier. The blood curdling scream you’d let out was indication enough of your fear, and it echoed in Matt’s ears as he got closer to his target. 

He wouldn’t kill the man. That wasn’t a line Matt was willing to cross, but the thought certainly crossed his mind. If he’d put his hands on you, touched you with his filthy awfulness, Matt might’ve been angry enough to do it, though, and that terrified him. He’d never been so close to murder before, besides maybe with Fisk, but no one fucked with you and got away with it. He wouldn’t kill the guy, but he’d hurt him. Badly.  

Matt took a deep breath and let the Devil creep out. May God have mercy on the stranger’s soul, because the Devil surely wouldn’t.

Tag List:

@xleiaorgana @mukbee @soft-emo-enby @purple-amaranthe @kokoterainonago666 @blackwidownat2814 @minervadashwood @emiemiemiii @h4rrys @messymissy @mylifeispainandiloveit @mossexe @alina02 @spikedhe4rt @fictional-hooman @thedevilwearsblack @merleisapartygod @legocity2 @violet-19999 @quackson03 @certifiedhunter @shoxji @layazul @dumb-fawkin-bitch @americaarse @lazyxsquirrel @honeysucklepotter @m0nster-fvcker @matthewmurdockswhore @thatgirljayy @hiyabyeyababy @scoliobean @infinityisbright @myguiltypleasures21 @thegirlwiththeeyes1297 @goddesspsyche @mxxnligxt @ladamari68 @dnxgma @evyiione @twsssmlmaa @gpenguin666 @desert-fern @day-dreaming-goddess @alexxavicry @hallecarey1 @km-ffluv @chiaraxtargaryen @trulylavandedarling @D0wnbad @deliciousfestsalad @lilyevans1 @22carolina08 @definitelynotsugar @casualchaoticdevil @peachy-flxwr @nashja @xshewayout @blep--bloop @kpopgirlbtssvt

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock oneshot #matt murdock fic #matt murdock ficlet #matt murdock smut #charlie cox #charlie cox daredevil #charlie cox imagine #daredevil #daredevil imagine #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil fluff #daredevil smut #daredevil angst #daredevil ficlet #matt murdock fanfiction

[tangledinink]

Chapter Twelve of I'm Sorry, Teenage Mutant What Now? is up!!! It's the moment you've all waited for-- the reveal. :000 They boys discover some things about themselves (things they once knew) and visit an unfamiliar place (a place that was once familiar.) Read it on ao3 or below the cut!

[ prev ]

The group’s shocked silence lasted for two, maybe three seconds before it quickly morphed into chaos.

“That’s him! That’s the goat!” Mikey shrieked, pointing wildly. “That’s the goat who has Dad!”

“Leo! Call 911!” Raph commanded. Leo scoffed loudly.

“No way! I wanna kick this guy’s ass. Make Donnie do it.”

“What?! No fair! I’ve called 911 the last six times! It’s someone else’s turn!”

“You have not! I called 911 last time!” April protested.

“That one doesn’t count!”

“Well someone’s gotta--”

“Enough!” Goatman snarled, absolutely bristling, waving his arm sharply. The air around them suddenly felt colder and stiller, and Leo shuddered, gritting his teeth as his posture stiffened. “I am not here to listen to your silly arguments. I am here to bring you home, so you can finally fulfill your purpose.”

Leo gave a short snort of laughter. “Hm, yeah, tempting, but our Daddy actually taught us not to go with creepy sheep strangers, even if they offer us free candy, soooo…”

“What?! Candy? No! I’m talking about your purpose! The reason you were created-- to eliminate the human threat! Come with me, and I can unlock your full potential!”

“How many divine purposes have we got again? ‘Cause I’m starting to lose track,” Mikey complained. Leo rolled his eyes.

“Eliminate the human threat? Yeah, uh, maybe you haven't been paying attention, but in case you haven’t noticed, we’re literally humans.”

The yokai paused for a moment. His face twisted, and he hunched his shoulders back before he gave a forced laugh. “Humans?” He echoed. “Humans?! Surely you aren’t fooled by those silly trinkets! You can’t possibly, actually believe…”

“Oh my god. This guy is, like, for real crazy,” April observed, raising her brows.

“No, you are fools!” He hissed in return. “Humans?! These ridiculous forms are completely fabricated! These are not your true selves! You are experiments! You are soldiers! You’re mutated turtles-- my greatest creations! The creations of Baron Draxum!”

“Baron Draxum? Okay, well, we’ll deal with him when he gets here… Oh… Oh-ho-ho wait! You’re doing that, like, sinister talking-about-yourself-in-third person thing, aren’t you! Oh my god, that’s rich!” Leo snorted.

“Hey! Only Raph can use the third-person!”

“I’m sorry, did he say turtles?” Mikey questioned.

“Oh my fucking god…” Leo laughed, clutching his stomach. “Turtles? I’m sorry, we’re mutant turtles?”

“This guy can’t be serious,” Raph muttered.

“Uh, yeah, I’m pretty sure we would have noticed by now if we were reptiles,” Donnie scoffed, one hand on his hip. “Let alone subjects of some kind of biochemical experiments. Which I am intimately familiar with, by the way. Do you have any idea how many community gardens I’ve been banned from?”

“This can’t…” The yokai shook his head, a hand on his brow. “How could you be tricked by such simple magic? I will show you if I have to.” 

“Oh, I’d love to see that,” Donnie muttered.

“Come with me--”

“You are out of your damn mind if you think we’re goin’ anywhere with you!” Raph cut in.

“Maybe if you prove that turtle hypothesis thing you have going on, we can discuss it from there,” Donnie laughed, one brow quirked, sounding caught somewhere between exasperated and amused. Honestly, this whole thing was a little bit fucking hilarious. It was also fucking horrible and scary because their dad was missing and a magic criminal had them cornered in an alley, but like. Seriously. Mutant turtles? You can’t make this stuff up, dude.

Draxum sighed very deeply, scowling at their group.

“Very well,” he said, and he snapped his fingers.

Things became unfunny very, very quickly. 

If the air had become cold earlier, now it became startlingly hot, just for a moment, the alley rising up at least five degrees, and Leo heard this choked, startled gasp that he immediately recognized as his twin brother. At the same time, a blinding, almost familiar flash of white light overtook the alley, and Leo hissed, flinching away. 

When he looked back, he was horrified to find that where his brother had been standing just a moment ago there was instead some sort of green, scaled creature, their eyes slitted and their skin leathery and bumped, and he thought, what the hell happened to my brother? And after a moment of silence, all of them staring in dazed shock, the reptile flailed, floundered, held its own hands up to its face as if to examine them, and promptly began screaming. 

And Leo recognized his own brother's screams, so instead he was thinking: what the hell happened to my brother?!

“What did you do?!” Leo shrieked. Behind him, Mikey screamed, too, and he could hear April spluttering out an impressive string of curse words. He just barely resisted the urge to race over to Donnie’s side, to check if he was okay, (he’s not okay, he knows he’s not okay,) to try to help him, to fix it, because he couldn’t just turn his back on the enemy in front of them-- couldn’t ignore the very obvious threat.

“I simply removed the cloaking enchantment as he requested,” Draxum responded calmly. He even looked amused, almost, the very corners of his lips turning up.

“You what!? What the hell are you-- fix it!!! Turn him back!!!” Leo demanded, his voice rising with the very edges of panic, his pulse climbing ever-steadily higher the longer he listened to his siblings scream.

The other sighed deeply, tilting their head to the side. “Do you still not understand? Fine, then. I’ll show you as well.” 

Snap.

Leo wouldn’t describe the experience as painful, but it really wasn’t pleasant, either. He swore he could feel his skin being stripped away and reforming; it was like his skeleton itself was being rearranged, his entire body becoming fluid for just a split second before solidifying again in new places, new patterns, new spaces. An unfamiliar weight pulled at his shoulders, forcing his spine to bend, and his hands and feet fell in a way that now felt unnatural to him. His skin seemed to lay over his muscles differently now.

He was vaguely aware of Mikey screaming somewhere behind him a second time, echoing Donatello’s continued wails. 

“Guys?” April bit out, her voice high and frightened.

What the hell happened to him?

“What-- what did you do?” Leo repeated himself, his eyes wide, straining, because his vision was ever-so-slightly different than it had been a few seconds ago and he didn’t know how to adjust. He swore to god he was frozen in place. He wasn’t sure when he had ended up on his knees, but he was shaking so hard, he supposed he wasn’t surprised.

What the fuck happened to his body?

“Now are you convinced?” The yokai pressed. “Now, we will be going to my lab whether you want to or not. We can either do this the easy way or the hard way. I would highly recommend the easy way,” he hummed, giving a sharp sweep of his arms. Wind tugged at his back and Leo had just barely the presence of mind to glance behind him, his eyes widening in horror to see this huge expanse of black opening up behind him. 

Mikey-- (Mikey? They were small, they were wearing Mikey’s clothes, it must be Mikey--) yelped loudly, the inky cloud yanking him from his feet. April jumped, attempting to grab her baby brother, though she only succeeded in falling into him-- both of them swallowed up into the portal. Raph gave a strangled howl of protest, diving right after them, and Donnie was sucked up as well, disappearing from Leo’s sight. His heart thudded wildly in his ears. He could feel the magick yanking at him, trying to pull him in as well. 

But Leo had always been the fastest. 

Every shred of him was screaming to follow, to chase after his family, to go with his sister and brothers, but he tensed his muscles, his stance widening and holding firm as he set his sights back on the yokai towering before him. A tiny voice in his head whispered in his ears that following wouldn’t help--

No, he had to move forward. This guy was the one hurting them.

Get him.

Leo wasn’t sure if he had leapt forward or if he simply was there. Everything was moving too quickly for even him to follow, the blinding white of panic and rage eating hungrily at the edges of his vision, threatening to overtake him. Either way, he lunged, a cry of protective fury wringing itself from his chest.

 "Stay away from my brothers," he snarled, his own throat staggering painfully with the force with which he screamed out his warning, his hands flying forward to grab the yokai by his throat, slamming into him at full speed. He felt the alien velvet fuzz of Draxum’s skin beneath the tear of his fingernails (claws) even as the pair of them were flung from their feet. Gravity was stolen from them both, the portal behind them reaching out to consume them. 

Everything went black. For just a second, tumbling through nothingness, floating through the sizzling rush of magick itself, Leo couldn’t see anything. He couldn’t hear anything, all he could feel was the body of the yokai against him, struggling against his grip, attempting to throw him away. 

And then this bright, searing lavender light came singing through the world. It didn’t reflect or bounce; nothing was lit up by it. Leo still could not see himself, could not even find the outline of his own hands or fingers. But this brilliant, complex pattern of the palest, gentlest pastel purple lit up bright before him, swirling and twisting in foreign shapes, and Leo just barely recognized that the ribbon of runes they formed echoed the shape of the yokai he had just grabbed.

The body he was clinging to went limp.

The next second, the wind was knocked out of him as they made impact with stone, light coming streaming back into his universe. Leo found himself landing in a heap in their new location, the portal disappearing behind them. Oddly, however, the crash landing didn’t hurt near as much as he would have expected it to.

“Leo!” He heard Raph cry. Leo groaned, still dazed, looking around blearily. Where the hell were they? He glanced over at the yokai who he had yanked through the portal with them, only to find them in an awkward slump just a few paces away, completely limp and seemingly unconscious. 

“Are you okay? What happened?” Raph demanded, moving quickly to his side. Mikey was already all bundled up in his arms, shaking like a leaf and absolutely clinging to him for dear life like he was going to fall apart if he let go. And Leo couldn’t even blame him if he did. Mikey had always been the smallest of them, and Raph always the biggest, but Leo thought dimly that the size difference between them now was fucking bananas.

Jesus christ. Raph was fucking huge. And… spiky. Was he a goddamn dinosaur? What the fuck.

“I-- yeah-- I-- I think the goatman got knocked out--” He stammered, still reeling slightly, trying to collect himself, to gather himself, adrenaline still rushing through his veins like it was a racetrack. 

Somewhere in the background, Donnie fucking screamed, and Leo immediately forgot about everything else, his head whipping around. 

“Donnie!” He cried, on his feet in a second, rushing over to his brother’s side. He had no idea where they were, not having yet taken stock of the location. He was only dimly aware that they were someplace cold and dark, with stone and concrete above, below, and around them. Donnie had pressed himself up against one of the walls, his entire body rigid and his head bent forward, his arms fluttering wildly beside his head in such a way that Leo recognized he was fighting not to hit himself. Good job, Dee. The screaming continued, but every wail that wrenched its way out of Donnie’s mouth was short and grinding, repeating itself over and over like an alarm. It was fucking terrifying. Not for him, but for Donnie, because he could tell that they were completely, totally not in control. Just panicking.

“Hey. Hey, hey, it’s okay, I’m right here, Don. It’s alright. It’s okay, you’re safe, I’m right here, hermano,” he tried to soothe, forcing his voice down, calm, steady. He knew better than to touch Donnie, but he would reach over just long enough to tap a button on the side of his headphones that he knew would flip the device into white noise mode. Donnie jerked slightly in response, and the screaming stopped, at least, but he didn’t relax. His arms still fluttered and flapped anxiously, and he shifted just enough to begin rocking back and forth, clenching his jaw and grinding his teeth so hard that Leo was afraid he was going to hurt himself. His chest absolutely shook with the panicked, shuddering breaths he was taking, hyperventilating so hard that his entire body trembled in response.

“Come on, Donnie, it’s alright. It’s okay. We’re safe, Mikey and Raph and April are safe, we’re gonna be okay, but you’ve gotta breathe, dude. Can you try it with me? Like this? We’ve gotta calm down a little bit--” Leo pressed on because this was not his first rodeo. He wasn’t quite as adept at handling these things as their dad was, and at this point, Donnie was pretty good at avoiding meltdowns and panic attacks, armed with tools and tricks and years of therapy, but sometimes they were unavoidable and Leo had always known how to calm them down, always been able to step up and help, the same way Donnie could for him--

But Donnie wasn’t calming down. Donnie wouldn’t even look up at him. Rather, Donnie scrunched up harder, curled his lips, and fucking hissed at him.

And, okay, look, it wasn’t the first time Donnie had hissed at them. Donnie used to love to hiss at people when they were little kids, though nowadays he was more likely to express annoyance with declarations such as “groan” or “scoff” or “eye-roll.” But he didn’t hiss like this.

He sounded fucking feral. Even more than that, he sounded fucking terrified. He looked like a goddamn cornered animal, his eyes blown out and huge, the scaly skin that now made up his form stretched tight over shivering muscles and his lips drawn back over sharp, pointed teeth. And Leo looked down at his own clawed, three-fingered hand and came to a horrible realization.

He couldn’t help because Donnie couldn’t recognize him. They were panicking because they were in this crazy, fucked up body that wasn’t theirs, and Leo was in a fucked up body that wasn’t his, and looking at him was just a reminder of everything wrong. He was just scaring them more. His being here was just making things worse, and Leo’s throat tied itself in a knot, swelling up as the backs of his eyes pinched with the thought.

“April,” he called, his voice cracking slightly as he desperately turned to look for his sister. She wasn’t far off, watching from a short distance with obvious worry, and she blinked in surprise at the sound of her name.

“Help me.”

---

If Leo was being completely honest, he hadn’t even realized that Donnie wasn’t still nearby. The two of them typically stuck together like glue whenever they were at school. Leo would usually lead the way, and Donnie would trail after, with Leo doing most of the talking and socializing for both of them. And once Donnie got sick of whatever they were doing, he would simply drag Leo off to sit and read or work on some project or puzzle for a while, and Leo would oblige and keep him company. Donnie was always close by, and Leo wasn’t even aware that this wasn’t currently the case, too absorbed in his latest arts and crafts project, until he heard a telltale, high-pitched whine from across the room.

He was on his feet in seconds, abandoning the activity and his classmates to scuttle off in search of his twin brother. Luckily, he wasn’t too hard to find. Both because he was pretty loud, and also because their substitute teacher was crouched down next to him. She was nice enough, Leo thought, but not quite as cool as Miss Mitchelle was, and he wasn’t sure if Donnie liked her at all. It definitely didn’t seem like he liked her too much right now with how he was all balled up, and Leo wasted no time at all in planting himself physically between the two.

Donnie immediately gravitated towards his brother and Leo moved a bit closer in turn, giving Miss Substitute (he didn’t remember her name,) a very displeased look.

“He doesn’t like whatever you’re doing,” he declared firmly.

Miss Substitute’s expression twitched and faltered for a moment before it settled back into something patient and pleasant, though Leo still didn’t quite trust it. “Leo,” she said, “I was just trying to talk with your brother--”

“I can talk to him,” Leo assured immediately, not bothering to listen to the remainder of her sentence because he couldn’t imagine it would be all that important or interesting. He turned to face Donnie instead. “It’s okay. I can always understand him, ‘cause we have a secret twin language. We made it up. Only we can speak it,” he declared proudly, crouching down to lean in towards his brother, his arms wrapped around his knees.

Donnie was still whining a bit, curled up into a ball and shoved halfway inside of a cubby, his arms crossed protectively over his head as he rocked. And yeah, he was obviously upset, though Leo wasn’t completely sure why yet. As such, he got to work, conversing with his twin in the previously mentioned secret twin language.

… And.

Okay.

So.

They didn’t actually have a secret twin language.

But it was close enough! It wasn’t a language, per se, ‘cause it didn’t have words, just noises and chirps and trills and squeaks and babbles. But he still always got the gist of what Donnie was saying, and Donnie would get the gist of what he was saying, too, so it worked. Sooner or later, he could pretty much always get an understanding of what Donnie was meaning based on the inflection or tone of his noises, as well as calm the other down enough so that Leo could coax a couple of signs out of him, so Leo figured it was close enough to language.

Plus, the ‘language’ itself always seemed to kind of settle Donnie down when he was upset like this. Once Leo started humming and squeaking at him, Donnie gradually started to answer with his own chirps and clicks, and, little by little, Leo watched their twin’s body untense and unwind. Leo grinned, moving to sit properly by him, and Donnie moved closer, edging just a bit out of his hiding spot so he could shove himself up against Leo’s side instead, resting his head against his shoulder and settling in there, an indignant scowl still on his face.

Leo grinned, puffing out his chest a bit as he shot Miss Substitute a look. See? He told her so. He and Donnie always understood each other, no matter what, and he could always fix it when Donnie wasn’t feeling good! He was basically the best brother in the entire world. Confident that he understood the problem, he turned back to face Miss Substitute.

“He said you’re not doing the schedule right, and we’re supposed to do math right now,” he announced, crossing his arms over his chest. And he hadn’t even noticed, but Donnie was right, they did usually do math lessons during this part of the day-- not arts and crafts. “And also, he doesn’t like the paper fish we’re doing ‘cause the glue feels bad. So we gotta find something else to do,” he insisted. “‘Cause otherwise Donnie and I aren’t playing.”

Donnie nodded a tiny bit from behind him, and Leo beamed with pride. Understanding Donnie and calming him down wasn’t even that hard. He didn’t get why adults besides Dad had such a hard time with it sometimes. You really just had to listen to him. 

---

It took a while for April to calm Donnie back down, (or at least get him as calm as they possibly could be in such circumstances,) but she managed after a bit, his panicked breaths eventually dying down into something a bit more even and steady. Thank god. Mikey thought dimly to himself that he had never seen Donnie freak out so bad, but... he supposed he couldn't really blame him. 

He frowned a bit, looking down at his own, unfamiliar hands, and he curled up a bit more, his tail tucking in (oh my god, he had a tail,) as he clung to Raph's plastron (oh my god, Raph had a plastron.) And though it still held comfort, the fold of his biggest brother's arms, bundled up close and held there, this place that he had known his whole life... it suddenly felt foreign, too. Everything was hard and jagged and cold. And even worse-- it was unfamiliar. 

He kept staring at his own hands because he couldn't stop himself, and it made his stomach wobble. He wondered bleakly what his own face looked like because he had no idea. He wouldn't even recognize himself in the mirror. 

 Now that Donnie had finally settled a bit, though he was still curled up and pressed just against April's side, just barely not touching but still squeezed up small against her, Leo finally got up to his feet-- only to immediately lose his balance, falling over onto his back with a loud clunk.

"Leo!" Raph's eyes widened, his muscles immediately bunching up, ready to jump up and go grab his brother. Mikey could tell that he was just barely resisting the urge to scoop up all three of them and bundle them up in his arms and just hang onto them for a while. He had been sitting here long enough for Mikey to notice how fast his heart was beating. Mikey’s was keeping pace. Leo kind of flailed for a second before he managed to redirect the momentum to roll over onto his side, getting himself back onto his hands and knees. A wry, strangled laugh forced its way out of him.

"Alright. Well. Pro tip: center of gravity is weird now," he remarked dryly, his voice strained. "But the good news is falling doesn't even hurt anymore! So that’s great!"

It didn't get a laugh out of anyone. After a moment of hesitation, Mikey slowly wriggled his way from Raph's grip, making his way over to Leo's side. He didn't dare try to walk after watching Leo's attempt, noting that it seemed to be more difficult now without the rush of adrenaline to aid them, so he instead stayed in a crouch, sort of half-hopping-half-crawling over. Raph followed shortly after in a similar manner.

"Can I see?" He questioned softly, and when Leo didn't deny him, he leaned over slightly, moving his hoodie (which was now a very awkward fit,) out of the way enough so that he could examine the edges of his brother's new shell.

(Oh my god. His brother's shell. What kind of a sentence was that? What kind of weird, fucked up make-believe world were they suddenly in? Leo was his brother. He didn't have a shell. He had cool brown skin. He had bouncy blonde curls that Mikey had helped him bleach and dye a red streak in. He had vitiligo 'stripes' over his eyes. He had a bad habit of cycling through boyfriends and insomnia and a shockingly large vocabulary... but he didn't have a shell. He didn't have scales or stripes or claws or a tail.)

He looked anyway, running the tips of his fingers over the top of it, following the curve. He couldn't quite tell if he was feeling the texture of the shell, or just the texture of his own fingers, which were different than they had been; covered in scales, the skin thicker and rougher than it had been before. Bending his joints felt odd, and he couldn't help himself from doing it over and over, as if that might help him get used to it faster. 

 Every part of his brother’s shell was this cool, ocean blue, just edging on teal in some places, and Mikey thought to himself that, in the very least, it matched his life color perfectly. 

He swallowed hard and resisted the tears that were building up in his eyes. He didn’t want to cry right now. He didn’t even know what he was crying about. Because he was scared? Because he was overwhelmed? He wasn’t very good at not crying, but he forced it down, his hands trembling a bit with the effort of it.

 "Does it look the same as mine?" He heard himself asking, his eyes flickering over to meet Leo's (which were now not something he recognized, looking more animal than person, though they still retained the same, familiar almond shape. The color, however, he realized, was slightly different. Leo's eyes were brown. All of their eyes were brown, so dark that they were almost black, but now, instead, Leo's eyes were mismatched; one of them dark blue, like water in a cove, like the sea at night, and the other dark red, like ink with blood, like black cherries.) 

"I dunno," Leo laughed, though his voice was still shaking. "I don't know what mine looks like."

"They're... kinda the same…" Raph observed from nearby, leaning over slightly to examine them both. His voice sounded kind of hollow, like he wasn’t really there. Sort of far-off. "I mean. The parts I can see. Mikey, yours is more... orangey. And bumpier," he said. "And yours is spotty. Leo's is kinda... stripey." 

"Yours is huge," Leo observed with a chuckle, glancing over at their biggest brother, who was always the tallest and largest by a wide margin, but now absolutely dwarfed the rest of them. "And... spiky. You're all spiky. And… and fucking huge, dude. You look like you have fucking paws. And your mouth is all..." He laughed again, scrubbing anxiously at his face with his hands. "You look like a fucking snapping turtle."

Mikey paused a bit at that, glancing over at the other.

Donnie must have said or signed something that the rest of them didn’t catch, because April spoke up next, clearly addressing him. "Uhm, no, yours is... uh. It's kind of flat? And..." There was a pause. "Oh, oh my god, it's, like, squishy!" She squealed, everyone else in the room jumping in response, before she tamped down the noise, biting her lip and getting a handle on her reaction. "Sorry! Sorry, I just. I just wasn't expecting that texture, that's all! It doesn't... feel like what I thought a shell would feel like, I guess."

"Are we different kinds of... turtles?" Mikey questioned, tilting his head to the side. He wanted to laugh at himself when he said turtles. I mean, seriously, turtles? Of all the creatures in the world, turtles? Why were they turtles?

"I guess we must be," Leo sighed, resting his chin on his knee. "We obviously look different." 

Mikey frowned, and he thought that his lips might be trembling if he had proper lips anymore, but he wasn't sure if he did or if they could tremble or what that would feel like if they did. Okay, fine. Now there were a few tears. 

"Does that mean we're not brothers?" 

A beat of silence followed.

"We're not," Donnie said, and quite frankly, Mikey was surprised to hear him speaking. Small miracles? Kinda…?

"Yeah, we are. Don't be crazy," Raph immediately refuted, his brows (er... brows? Place where brows once were?) furrowing together, and Mikey was desperately relieved to see that the space in between still wrinkled into a crease the same way they always did. "Of course we're brothers."

"Evidently, we're not even the same species," Donnie hissed out bitterly, drawing himself up even closer, even smaller, into a little ball. "It's literally impossible."

"Come on, Dee--"

"We're not even human!" Donnie snapped, hunching up his shoulders. "We're not even people!"

"Hey, look, come on you guys," April tried to soothe, holding up her hands as if to calm the group. "It doesn't matter if you're turtles! It doesn't matter to me. I love you guys no matter what--"

"Oh, wow, what a comfort!" Donnie scoffed, and April bristled.

"Okay, look, I am trying to be helpful! I know that this fucking sucks but you do not need to take out your nasty attitude on me!"

Leo suddenly laughed-- loudly, painfully-- tilting his head back and letting his shoulders slump so he could stare up at the ceiling. "Oh my god. Jesus christ. We're not people," he bit out in between his barely restrained hysterics, squeezing his eyes shut. "We're freaks, dude!"

"Leo, c'mon." 

"We're not even people!!!" He repeated. "Fuck. We never even had a chance, and we didn't even know it!... Oh my god, we’re such morons!!! Hahaha-- welp! This is it! Pack it in, boys, it’s all over!"

"Leo, chill. What are you even talkin’ about?"

"Did you know I was gonna go on T?" He questioned, turning around sharply, suddenly, to face Raph. "Me and Dad were talking about it. For, like, a while now. And I was gonna start T, finally. Do you know how much I wanted to do that? Do you know how long I've been waiting to get to do that?"

Raph frowned. "Leo... This doesn't mean--"

"How the fuck is that going to work now!?" He interrupted. "How is anything gonna work now? We're fucking! REPTILES! Raph!!!"

"I KNOW THAT!" Now Raph was yelling, too, and Mikey flinched a bit, hiccuping softly as he drew himself down, retreating slightly, halfway into his shell (oh my god, he can do that now?) "You think you're the only one who was lookin' forward to stuff? I was--" He cut himself off, breathing in deep and then letting it out slow, his jaw tensed.

"Look. I know this... sucks. But it's not gonna help to just throw in the towel right now and mourn shit that we don't even know is gone yet, alright? We'll... figure it out," he said. "We don’t even know what’s goin’ on, so let’s just… let's just try to figure it out first. Okay?" 

Leo frowned. He looked down and to the side, tightening his hands into fists, but he didn't have any rebuttal. After a moment, he took a deep breath, pulling himself up to his feet for a second time. He tottered for a moment, his arms windmilling until he found his balance and this time he stayed on his feet. He looked around the room for a moment before his eyes fell on the limp form of Baron Draxum, still crumpled in a heap some odd paces away.

"What do we do with that guy?"

All of their eyes snapped over, as though they had all just remembered that he was there in the first place.

"Did you knock him out, dude?!" Raph questioned, his eyes widening slightly. 

"No! I mean. I don't think so. Not exactly," Leo said. "It's, like-- he grabbed me and some sort of mystic-magic-whatever thing happened. He lit up with a bunch of symbols and he just... went down. I dunno what happened." 

"Well," Raph said, sighing deeply before he pulled himself to his feet as well, doing a similar rock and wobble to Leo before he figured out the new balance he had to strike, correcting his own footing. His long tail swung back and forth behind him, assumedly on instinct, to help. "We dunno how long he's gonna stay down, so we oughta find a way out of here and put some distance between us and him ASAP. We already know where Dad is, anyway."

"Maybe we can figure out where we are," Donnie mumbled bleakly, pulling himself to his feet as well. He seemed to struggle much less than his brothers did, and Mikey noted that his back rounded less than theirs. April got up as well, sticking close to his side, but perhaps hovering a bit less now. 

Mikey watched as his family rose up, one by one, finding their feet again. And something in his chest unwound and loosened again. A breath he hadn't realized he had been holding came tumbling out of him.

He didn't know his own face anymore. And he didn't recognize his brothers when he looked at them.

But they were still them. Already, Mikey was completely sure of it. And the change, while still terrifying, felt just a tiny bit less devastating. 

He hadn’t lost them yet.

Bracing himself for the coming challenge, he rose up to his feet as well. The unfamiliar weight on his back was more than he had expected and attempted to drag him down, and he stumbled slightly, nearly toppling over onto his back the same way Leo had the first time-- but Raph grabbed his wrist before he could, pulling him forward and correcting him, and Mikey was relieved to find his center of gravity once more. Usually, he would complain about his big brother stepping in, preferring to do things on his own rather than being 'babied' by his older family members, but...

 Right now, it was actually okay. 

"Okay. Let's do this." 

(They took about three steps before Raph yelped and tripped over his own tail.)

---

Though they had tied up the so-called "Baron Draxum" with whatever rope and other scrap they could find in this place, (the longer they were here, the more Donnie began to suspect it was a lab of some kind,) none of them were very confident that it would be able to hold him for very long, if at all, and so they all got to work trying to figure out an exit. But to call this place 'maze-like' was a bit of an understatement.

"This is the worst landmark ever," April hissed in frustration as they turned a corner, only to once again be met with a hog-tied yokai, face-down on the concrete. "We keep going in circles!"

"Okay, look," Donnie sighed. "I know we don't want to linger here any more than we have to, but let's look around a bit and see if there's anything useful lying around to get us out of here. Clearly just walking out isn't getting us anywhere." 

There was a chorus of grunts and mumbles of agreement from the rest of his family, and the group slowly fanned out, beginning their search. It was dark here, wherever they were. The ground beneath his feet was cold, with him and his brothers having already ditched and stowed their sneakers and boots after realizing how awkward and painful it was to walk in them with their new wide, two-toed feet. 

The space was wide and almost circular, with various tunnels branching off at different levels, all leading away to who-knew-where. Several desks and tables were scattered about the space, each surface covered in everything from charts to pipettes to oddly-shaped jars filled with oddly-colored substances. Donnie just barely resisted the urge to sit down and start working, or to begin snatching and pocketing things as he found them. Instead, he took a liberal amount of photographs of everything they found on his phone.

 His impulse control could only get him so far, however, and his eyes narrowed as they fell across a small, purpley-pink gem that lay on the desk, suspended within a small glass case. This certainly looked interesting... Geology wasn't really a passion of his, but something about this just seemed... intriguing. He couldn't quite place it...

 Surely no one would miss this, right? It was small! It would be silly not to take it, quite frankly, and he slipped it into his pocket as quietly as he could when he was sure no one else was looking. 

Now, if only he could find some blueprints of the tunnels... But that would be too easy, wouldn't it?

"So," Mikey said after a minute or so of them searching, and Donnie sighed internally. Of course, they couldn't expect him to stay quiet for that long. "If Raph is a snapping turtle, and me and Leo are turtle-turtles, then what kind of a turtle is Donnie?"

Donnie rolled his eyes, scowling. "Okay, well, first of all, do we really have to discuss this?" He hissed, immediately bristling. "I’d highly prefer we not address the proverbial elephant in the room, thank you! Second of all, 'turtle-turtle' is not a species."

"Yeah, but, like, we have turtle shells!" Mikey explained. "But April said yours is squishy. So what does that make you?"

Donnie sighed deeply. Talking about this made his skin itch.

"A softshell turtle, I suppose."

"A softshell?" Leo questioned, raising a brow. "That's a thing?"

"Yes."

"How do you know that off the top of your head?" Raph questioned.

"Some of us actually paid attention during biology classes," he responded dryly. And having a near-photographic memory did, admittedly, help as well…

"Whoa!" Mikey absolutely beamed. "That's so cool! Now we just gotta figure out what kind of turtles me and Leo are!"

"Well, I'd look it up if we had any service. And also if it was even close to being an appropriate time for us to waste our efforts on something like that," Donnie said with a roll of his eyes. He knew that Mikey was just distracting himself, finding a silver lining so he didn’t break down, but Donnie didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to think about how much of their entire lives was completely fabricated, about how--

He snorted, suddenly doubling over with laughter.

"What?" April questioned, raising a brow.

"I just-- I just realized!" Donnie laughed. "Our... our moms must be turtles! Fucking turtles!"

There was a beat of silence as this sunk in before Raph gave a similar reaction. "Damn! I guess you're right, huh?"

"Do you have any idea how much time I wasted in therapy talking about this?" Donnie squeaked out through giggles. "I spent so much time with Mossy talking about our mom and how she didn't want us or whatever the fuck and about the stuff she did to Dad and how I couldn't remember her, and she-- she was never even real! None of that ever even happened! She was just a fucking turtle, wasn't she!? We don’t even have a real mom!"

"Whoa! Mind... blown. I didn't even think about that..." Mikey gaped, his eyes wide. "This whole time I just assumed that our mom was probably the hotel lady..."

"Yeah, me too," Leo agreed.

Donnie blinked.

"You what?"

"Well, you know, that woman that Dad was datin’ right before he disappeared," Raph said. "And she runs the Grand Nexus Hotel, right? All the articles I ever read always mentioned her."

Donnie's eyes twitched. "You thought she was our mother?" He questioned.

"Well, that's who Dad was datin’ last! And for a long time, too. It'd make sense, wouldn't it?" Raph defended.

"Yeah. You didn't think that?" Leo said.

"NO! Why would I think that?!" Donnie was laughing again.

Leo huffed in offense, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm sorry, do you know something we don't?"

"Apparently!" Donnie exclaimed. "Guys, you've seen pictures of her, right?!"

"Well, yeah?" Mikey tilted his head to the side.

"She's pale as fuck!"

"So?"

"And our Dad is Japanese!"

"And? Donnie, what's your point?"

"We're black!"

"... Ooooohhhhh," all three of his brothers said, nearly in unison, after Donnie's argument finally sunk in.

"Oh my god," Donnie laughed, covering his face with his hands, scrubbing tears from his eyes. "You're all so fucking dumb..."

"I guess our mom would have had to be black. I mean. We got the Japanese half from Dad, but... I never really thought about where the other half came from..." Raph admitted, his mouth still slightly agape like he was still rolling the thought about in his head. 

"Wait a minute," April said, her hands on her hips. "I mean, yeah, all that makes sense, but if you guys have secretly been turtles this whole time, then why are you black?"

"Dude, are all turtles black?" Mikey questioned, his eyes widening.

"I cannot discuss this any further. I'll get a migraine and furthermore cease to function, as I am, and I cannot stress this enough, just barely suppressing the gravity of this whole situation right now," Donnie sighed, gesturing to himself as he turned back to the desk in front of him. "Did anyone find anything yet?"

"Not yet," April sighed, shuffling through some papers. "What even is all this junk?"

"I'm not sure. Some sort of research, it seems like..." Donnie mused, sort of thumbing through a book as he spoke, reading key phrases and chunks of text as quickly as he could and making mental notes so he could refer back to it later. He was more than happy to have something else to focus on, though this would admittedly be a lot easier with human hands. "But I'm still not sure where--"

Shhhh shhhh.

Donnie paused mid-sentence, his brows furrowed. He hadn't noticed that sound before now. He tilted his head a bit to the side, turning in its direction, trying to zero in.

"... Donnie?"

"What's that noise?" He questioned aloud, though his voice was barely above a whisper.

Shhhh shhhhh.

He knew that noise. He recognized it. Where had he heard it before?

Shhhh shhhhh.

... Water, he realized with a start. The noise was running water. Of course. How had he never realized this before?...

That's what he was hearing. That's what he had heard.

"Dee? You good?"

"Guys," he said, turning just enough to glance over in their direction. His face suddenly felt like glass. It was odd. "I think... I think we're in the sewer," he said. "... And I think we've been here before...?"

Before anyone could say anything further, a new noise filled up the space.

Skrrrtttccchhhhh.

---

"What was that?!" Mikey shrieked, immediately leaping behind his biggest brother to hide. Leo and Donnie were instantly gravitating to each other as well, falling into stance on instinct as they stood back to back, each covering the other. 

"It sounds like something scratching," April said thoughtfully, and true to her word, the same skritching noise clawed its way through the air a moment later, echoing slightly against the walls. "I think it's coming from over here!"

"April!" Raph hissed off a protest as she took off, heading in the direction of the sound. "We don't know what that is!"

"We will if we go look!" She chirped in reply. I mean, come on, what was the benefit of hiding over here instead of investigating? Weren't they curious either way? Besides, they were stuck here regardless-- maybe they'd find something helpful.

The noise continued as April searched, peering around corners and down tunnels, until, finally, she found her prize. Tucked inside one of the off-shoot tunnels, one of the many dead-ends that seemed to surround this space, was a proverbial treasure trove. A variety of odds and ends filled the space; various amulets and scrolls and chests and even weapons were leaned up against the wall or stacked up on the ground. In fact, a lot of weapons were in here. Was this some kind of a weird armory? Or a trophy room? What kind of sewer has a trophy room?

But most interestingly, she found the source of the noise. Inside a small, dimly lit orb, looking as though it were made of some sort of glass, or perhaps even light, was one of the oddest creatures April had ever seen, clawing sadly at the surface of its prison. It had ears like a chihuahua, pointed and too big for its head, with tufts of fur poofing out from inside, but huge eyes like some kind of a cat. Pointed tusks stuck from its mouth like a boar, but soft, downy yellow-and-blue fur covered its entire, squirrel-like body, complete with a fluffy, wriggly tail.

"AW, you guyyssss!" She called out. "Come look! It's cute!"

"April!" The guys were right behind her, with Raph leading the charge. "You can't just run off like-- jumpin' jack flash! What the heck is that thing?!"

"I dunno!" April said with a shrug, immediately making her way into the room, scooping up the orb so she could examine it, looking for a way to open it up. The little critter inside pattered about excitedly, its claws clicking against the smooth surface. "Help me figure out how to get him outta here."

"Are you sure about that?" Leo questioned. "No offense, but we have nooo idea what that thing is! Maybe it's, I dunno, locked up for a reason?"

"What? C'mon, guys, we've gotta help!" Mikey protested, turning on them with big, pleading eyes. Nice, April thought, with Mikey on her side she had basically already won. Suck it, middle children. "Plus, he was locked up by Draxum. So he can't be bad!"

"Yeah! Ever heard ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend?’" April added in.

"I'm not convinced," Donnie said, crossing his arms over his chest. "I mean, has anyone else noticed that pretty much everything else in this room is a weapon of some kind? Isn't that maybe a bit telling?"

"Aw, come on, Dee. Look at this face!" April insisted, holding up the orb to the others. The creature, to their credit, played their part, pulling an absolutely pitiful face which Mikey immediately echoed, turning to his brothers with watery eyes. 

Checkmate.

"Okay, okay, fine. Look, there's gotta be something in here that can help us bust him out..." Leo muttered, beginning to pick his way through the contents of the room with Raph, Donnie, and Mikey following suit shortly after. 

"Here, what about these?" Leo said after a moment, turning to face them with a pair of twin katanas in hand. "Think I could slice that bad boy open with these guys?"

April scoffed, clutching the orb close to her chest. "Uhm, and this guy in half, maybe!" She protested. "Can we try something a little less deadly, please?"

"Aw, come on! These are cool," Leo protested, grinning as he twirled them in his hands with a metallic shwing.

"You just like them because you always win at any swordsmanship event at tournaments," Donnie remarked dryly, grabbing a long wooden staff to hold in his hands, testing the weight of it. "... That being said, should we maybe grab some of these just in case?"

"Whaddya mean?" Raph glanced over at the other.

"Well, we haven't even made it to the Hidden City yet, and we've already been attacked once," Donnie reasoned, placing a hand on his hip and frowning. "So it wouldn't exactly be a bad idea to have some weapons on hand in case of an emergency." He spun the bo staff in his hands appraisingly a few times. "I mean, obviously this is a bit underwhelming, but I'm sure I could make some improvements once we got back home..."

"Sounds like a good plan to me! Look at all the stuff they’ve got!” Mikey cheered, immediately diving in, beginning to sort through all the various options they had in the room. He chuckled darkly, swinging a pair of nun-chucks in his hands. “These’ll do…”

“Yo, guys!” Raph called, waving to get his brothers’ attention before pointing to the very far corner of the room. “If we’re gonna take stuff, why don’t we take the glowy ones?”

There was, in fact, a weapons rack filled with floating, vaguely glowing weapons, tucked away in the shadows, which only made the glow all that much more tempting. They were simply begging to be taken.

Mikey and Leo, almost in unison, gasped, their faces absolutely lighting up as they raced over to join Raph. “Ooh, dibs on the sword!” Leo cheered, immediately snatching up the odachi and repeatedly striking poses.

“Hot soup! Check me out!” Mikey snatched up a bright orange kusari-fundo, absolutely beaming ear-to-ear. Raph was nearly drooling as he laid his claim on a pair of tonfas, beaming as he gave a few experimental swings. 

“They’re perfect! No one’ll mess with us now!”

“What about you, Donnie?” April questioned, tilting her head back to glance at the remaining brother. “Don’t you want a glowy weapon?”

“And add yet another unknown, uncontrolled variable to our current situation? I’m good,” Donnie scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I’ve trained with a regular, wooden bo staff. I’ll fight with a wooden bo staff, thank you very much. You all have fun with your likely-radioactive weaponry,” he said, waving them off. 

“Here, April, I got something for you, too,” Mikey chirped excitedly, scampering over to present his find to her. “Ta-da!!! Baseball bat!”

It wasn’t a baseball bat-- it was a club. But close enough! April gasped in delight. “It’s perfect!” She enthused, immediately snatching it up, rolling it around in her hands and tapping it against the side of her shoe a few times. Ooh, and the weight was perfect, too. “And I think it can help us get little guy out of this ball thingie, too! Leo, come hold it still for me!”

 "Aw man, why do I gotta hold it?" Leo muttered in complaint but did as he was told regardless, kneeling down to hold the orb steady, taking care in the placement of his hands to minimize the chances of broken fingers.

 "Alright," April said, backing up a bit, her tongue sticking out from between her lips with focus. "This won't hurt a bit..." 

She swung the club back, taking care to temper her strength, and brought it down on the little ball prison with a satisfying crunch. 

"Did it work?" Mikey gasped, his eyes wide as he leaned over. The orb was not shattered nor laying in pieces; but the side of it had caved in considerably, a spiderweb of cracks blossoming from it, and a second later, it simply dissolved as if it had never been there in the first place. The creature that had previously been trapped inside cracked one eye open, having squeezed itself into the very back of its cage, flinching at the oncoming impact, gave an absolute trill of excitement, darting about in celebration.

"There we go!" April said, grinning wide, her hands planted on her hips. "See, told ya I'd get you outta there! That's better, right?"

The little yellow beast threw itself into her lap, wriggling with joy and nuzzling at her with an enthusiastic wag of its tail. "Okay, okay! You're welcome!" April laughed, giggling as she allowed the creature to clamber about in her arms, allowing it time to bounce about before it finally began to settle again.

"Any chance you know how to get out of here, little guy?"

---

Raph looked up from his phone and his tea at the sound of mail plopping down on the table, glancing over to examine the letters his father had just tossed over in his direction.

"For you," Dad remarked, sorting through the remaining mail from the day.

"For me?" Raph echoed, his brows rising up. "Who the heck is sending me mail?" Curiosity took hold immediately, and he abandoned the wrestling video he had been watching previously in favor of tearing open the letters on the table.

He was surprised to find college brochures inside. His father, however, did not seem all that surprised at all, even adding a couple more to the pile.

"It seems you are in high demand," Dad teased, smiling the tiniest bit. "I have received a few emails as well from recruiters recently."

Raph paused for a moment, rolling this idea about in his brain, trying to figure out what it meant and what it tasted like before he forced a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

"Guess they haven't seen my grades yet," he joked weakly. Dad hummed softly, pulling up a chair so he could sit down next to his eldest son.

"Nonsense," he scoffed. "Your grades are fine, Raphael. You've simply tricked yourself into thinking they're not by comparing yourself to others," he added, giving the other a knowing look. "And besides that, this is hardly the only thing that matters. I have told you many times that grades aren't everything. My grades in high school were terrible!" He remarked with a laugh. "And your career in sports is very impressive."

"I guess," Raph said, wrinkling his nose up a bit as he leaned over the table. Easy for him to say. He had a hard time wrapping his head around the idea of colleges being interested in him when his three younger brothers were right here in the same damn house! Had they really meant to send these to Hamato Raphael?

Dad's hand moved to rub little circles into his back, and he nudged his son's teacup a bit. Raph agreeably took a sip, allowing the warm liquid to trickle down through his chest.

"I know you have not always enjoyed schoolwork, Raphael," Dad finally spoke again. "But you are not stupid. You may very well have the most common sense of any of my children!" He chuckled. "And you have many talents besides that. You are a remarkable athlete, and I know I do not have to drag you over to the trophy wall to prove this to you, but I will if I have to. You are only sixteen and you are already the captain of multiple sports teams... not just anyone could handle that! It is difficult to lead a team. But you have always handled this with grace. And teaching children! That is a talent in and of itself. That is no easy task. Trust me, I know," he said, smiling slightly. "But you are doing so well with your new job. And I am very proud of you."

 Raphael glanced over at his father, for just a moment, hesitating like he wanted to say something, but then biting it back.

"You don't have to go to college if you don't want to," Dad added. "If you decide that is not the path for you, that is fine. I won't be upset or disappointed. I did not go to college, either! But I would hate for you to not even consider it just because you don't think you're good enough for it," he pressed. "I know you've always said you intend to pursue a career in sports of some kind, but this is very much an avenue to achieve that if you'd like. Many professional athletes get their start through college sports, you know. And I can already name half a dozen universities off the top of my head who would be thrilled to have you on their team in a couple of years!"

He sighed softly.

"But you do not have to decide right now, my son. There is still plenty of time for you to consider all of your options."

Raph glanced over at his father, shifting a bit in his seat, before looking to the side.

"Uh. I dunno, Pops. I mean. I'm not good at tests and all that junk. I mean. College football could be good 'n all, but, uh..."

He hesitated a second, sort of scratching the side of his jaw, hesitating a bit. "I dunno. Maybe I could... I mean. We could look at it, at least. I was kind of wonderin’ about, uh. I dunno… Just, lately, I was thinkin' about... studyin' early childhood education, maybe?..."

[ next ]

#sorrywhatnowau #sorrywhatnowau fic #rottmnt #rottmnt fanfic #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt au #rottmnt human au #tmnt

[holylulusworld]

The Grinch

Summary: We get to know how you and Lloyd got together.

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x Assistant!Reader

Warnings: Christmas mood, sweet reader, maybe clueless reader, language, a little fluff, a hint of groping

A/N: This is the prequel to my miniseries: Plant Apocalypse

“Put your Christmas sweater on,” you sing along to the music blaring from your phone. You shake your ass and giggle as the snowman you placed on your desk starts singing the moment you pass him by. “Yeah, you too!”

Lifting the box with Christmas decorations you huff. There are so many people around in this house and no one offered their help with the Christmas decoration.

You walk over to Lloyd’s office, smiling wildly as one of the newer agents wishes you happy holidays.

“Cheery and bright, guys,” you coo and wave at the men discussing the next job, or target. 

You shrug when they don’t look your way. Whatever they are up to is none of your business. From the moment you started working for Lloyd, you knew it was better to shut your mouth and not ask too many questions about his business.

While you fight to open the door and balance the box in your arm the men get louder. They seem to fight over something the newbie said.

“Hey, no fighting in here.” You yell, and the men stop in their tracks. “Mr. Hansen hates it when you demolish the headquarters!”

“Sorry,” they mumble. No one would believe that five bulky and heavily armored men stopped fighting only because you yelled at them.

“That’s much better. It’s Christmas, team. We should be cheery and happy, not fight. In the kitchen are cookies and later we can have hot chocolate.”

You managed to open the door and walk inside the office, huffing as it looks cold and unwelcoming.

There are monitors on the wall and a desk in the middle of the room. The other wall is grey and undecorated. Nothing is making you sadder than a room without decoration and plants.

“I’ll turn this cold room into a nice office,” you put the box on the couch standing next to the door. “Mr. Hansen will love it.”

You clap your hands and cheer yourself up. 

“What the fuck is that?” Lloyd feels like he’s going to vomit rainbows. He looks around his office, shaking his head in disbelief. “I was away for two hours, and someone infiltrated my office and turned it into Santa’s shithole.”

“Mr. Hansen, you are back!” You squeal and walk toward Lloyd. “Welcome to your new office. I decorated it for you to make it look more festive.”

“I-“ He chokes on air as there is a rocking Santa next to his beloved gun shelf. You even dared to sling a fairy light around one of the shotguns. “What did you do? You are…you are…”

He looks you up and down. You’re wearing an ugly Christmas sweater with a snowman and blinking lights.

“I know.” You wrap Lloyd in a hug. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I got a Christmas sweater for you too, Sir. You’ll love it. It matches your eyes.” 

Lloyd opens his mouth. He wants to tell you that you are fired. You violated his sanctuary, his beloved office but he can’t bring the words out. I mean, he killed people for less, but he can’t hurt you, or ruin your festive mood.

“I got you a matching one,” you smile sweetly. “I had hoped you’d wear it when we have hot chocolate and cookies.”

“Cupcake,” he sighs deeply and runs one hand down his face. Lloyd is a cold-blooded man and doesn’t give a shit about people, but he cares for you. “If I wear this thing, my men will believe I got weak and kill me.”

“Oh,” you sniffle. “I didn’t think this through. You’re a dangerous and strong man. Men like you don’t wear Christmas sweaters or kiss a girl under the mistletoe.”

“Mistletoe?” He cocks his head as you point at the mistletoe you hung up above his desk. Lloyd smirks. “So…did you already test the mistletoe?”

“I was alone at your office, Mr. Hansen,” you giggle. “It’s physically impossible for me to kiss myself.”

“Cupcake, you’d wonder about the uncanny flexibility of some people,” he gives you a dirty grin.

You wrinkle your nose. “Gross.”

“Yeah, a pretty girl on her knees is much better than suckin—” You cover his mouth to stop Lloyd from saying something gross.

“Do you like the decoration?” You look up at Lloyd with glassy eyes. “It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Sighing dreamily, you wait for Lloyd’s answer.

“Let’s see.” Lloyd walks you backward until you stand under the mistletoe. “How about we follow the tradition of kisses under the mistletoe?”

He cups your face and presses his lips to yours. Lloyd kisses you slowly, and almost sweetly. A stark contrast to his personality and profession.

“That was,” you whimper against his lips, “nice.”

“Not bad, cupcake,” he steps away to watch you stand on wobbling legs. He hums and almost doesn’t hate the decoration until his eyes land on a plant on his desk. “What is that?”

“Oh…” you smile sweetly. “I love plants, Lloyd. Don’t you love plants too?”

“I should shoot it for standing near my laptop,” he grunts and pokes the plant with his index finger.

“You’ll get used to it. How about I show you the plants at my apartment?” He watches you wring your hands. For months you tried to find the guts to ask Lloyd out and now you got him where you want him. “I’ll cook for you.”

“Hmm…” He is considering your offer. “I hope you know I love dessert the most…” Lloyd grins. He wraps his arm around your waistline and moves his hand to your ass. “Maybe we can have dessert first…”

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#lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x y/n #The Grinch #lloyd hansen x female!reader #female reader

[jo-harrington]

Sunsets.

They were always better when you watched them with someone else.

You glanced down at the hands in your lap: yours and Sam's, twined together like your lives have been for the past 5 years. The best of friends from the moment her family moved into town. You couldn't remember a time when you existed without her.

She's chatting now, telling some story about her boyfriend's dunce behavior to cheer you up after Mark broke your heart. Douchebag. You don't really know how you got here of all places; how things seemed to go so right with him and then so terribly wrong.

Sam made a joke at both Patrick and Mark's expense. You laughed and the sound of it was unfamiliar and almost roared in your ear, like a hundred people were laughing.

Everyone always laughed at Sam's jokes. Everyone loved Sam. Everything always worked out for her, even in the most unlikely situations. She was just lucky like that.

You told her once, after she won the talent show at school, that it almost seemed like she was the star of The Samantha Show or something. She found it hilarious, apparently, but you had an inkling that her feelings were still hurt. This was real life, not TV. She didn't just win because she was some main character, she worked really hard on her dance routine.

You felt a little bad after that, never brought it up again. The dark little voice deep down inside you smothered for now.

Because yeah, she did work hard. You knew that. She was smart and talented and funny and caring and a great friend and neighbor and that's just how it was because...

Because...

Because she strived to be all of those thing.

Things you…really didn’t bother with.

Because you were…

You.

Average, squeaking by a three-point-something GPA, wannabe artist who could barely draw, never left town before even when there was that field trip to DC because you got the mumps. A little nervous, a little clumsy, a little romantic with your head in the clouds. You always had a crush but nothing ever really came of those crushes until Mark.

The only boy to ever like you back and then he broke your heart.

“I just want to disappear,” you muttered pathetically and let go of Sam’s hand to cover your eyes again.

"So do it!" Sam finally hopped to her feet in the way that only she could, raring for another passioned, motivational speech that she was known for. You really needed one of those and also loathed that she was about to give you one. "Disappear! Leave!”

This was not the speech you expected.

"Uh, what?" you let out a mixture of a scoff and a laugh, tears forgotten for now. "What do you mean leave? Hello, graduation in a few months. Prom? Then college. What happened to your big plan last week? One last summer in Port Geneva?"

"Forget one last summer," she waved her arms wildly. "This is your life! You're my best friend, I want you happy. Tell me the truth. Do you really even want to go to college? Wouldn't you rather pack up big blue and go on that adventure like you talked about in 8th grade?"

At your blank stare, Sam grabbed you by the shoulders and shook you.

"That's the whole reason we're friends in the first place don't you remember? The ice breaker?! Are you kidding?"

"I don't have a clue," you giggled as she jostled you around.

"Our entire friendship built on a lie. UGH. Ok. Mrs. Mills what-do-you-wanna-do-in-10-years activity? And everyone's was stupid. Tina wanted to be on the cover of Tiger Beat for the Girl Superstar issue. Patrick...gotta love him...but he wanted to be the starting quarterback for the Miami Dolphins. Mine was so dumb I don't even want to say it, great first impressions I made as the new kid.

"But you wanted to see the world! Pack your bags and board a train around the US. Paint the sunset at the Grand Canyon. See glaciers in Alaska! Hell, you even said you'd travel to Middle Earth if you could. And I thought you meant the equator!"

You both laughed and as she went on and on about things you apparently said 4 years ago and as the memory came back to you, your heart ached.

Yeah, you did say that stuff didn't you? You’d been such a silly, idealistic kid before you grew up and reality hit you time and time again.

"That was just kids stuff Sammie," you laughed dismissively. "I'm...I'm gonna take classes at State, and I'm gonna work at the furniture store and I'm gonna..."

"You're gonna pine over Mark Greckman over the rest of your life?" The hands were on her hips again. "No, ma'am, you...you're gonna go on your adventure and...oh my...you're gonna find a prince of some European kingdom or...or a handsome stranger in an Italian villa. Or both. Hoards of men fighting for your affection."

"Please stop," you stood up and grabbed her as she started waving her arms around and pantomiming kissing a tall stranger. "Stop it."

"Ok I'm done, I'm done," she promised. "I just don't want you to be crying over that idiot anymore. And we might be close to graduation but...I don't know...you can still change your mind."

"Hmm," you shrugged. "I dunno. If just sounds so…”

“Unlike you?”

“Yeah.”

"Just think about it," she urged you. "You and your Volkswagen Beetle…and the world...the whole universe if you want it! The possibilities are endless. I just feel like...1985...it's gonna be your year."

There was a spark of inspiration that grew inside of you, and in your heart, you knew she was right.

You pulled her into your arms, grateful to have your best friend.

"Port Geneva was filmed in front of a live studio audience."

Eddie hit the rewind button on the remote and watched the scene speed in reverse until it hit Sam’s big speech. He hit play and watched for a minute then paused, the blurry image of your giggling face frozen on his screen for the foreseeable future.

He sighed and leaned back on the couch to enjoy your company for a minute.

The living room was dark, only illuminated by the glow of the TV and the street lights outside shining through the windows. There was a stack of tapes on the coffee table, along with his abandoned homework. The pizza he ordered would be here soon but for now…it was just you and him.

“M’sorry Mark was an asshole,” he said aloud into the still room. “To be honest…I kind of warned you about him way back.”

You don’t say anything. You never do.

“I know, the heart wants what it wants.” He picked a piece of lint off of his jeans. “I just want to look out for you honey.”

You stay smiling on the screen, and he can imagine it got the slightest bit bigger when he said that.

“I know you try to look after me too. Guess that doesn’t stop either of us getting hurt right?” He chuckled and pat his hands on his lap.

This was pathetic, talking to a fictional character like they were really in the room with him.

You were just…you were everything. And you’d been there for him, a balm to his woes. You had been since he started watching Port Geneva way back when, but especially since everything went down last year.

With his dad and the house and…

There was a knock at the door and Eddie hit the eject button so he could put in the next tape in watch with dinner. It was gonna be a good episode, you tell Mark off and even punch him; he remembered it fondly.

Defending yourself. He was proud of his girl.

Eddie ate his dinner and watched his episodes, taped from when they originally aired. Wednesday nights at 9pm, right before the news. He did his homework and occasionally repeated the rewind-pause-play act that he had perfected over the years so he could make another joke or, just once, complain about his chemistry homework.

Life was hard. For everyone. But especially if your name was Eddie Munson. Still, he endured. He’d never been a stranger to fantasy and escapism, he had his books and his game and his movies but there was something so…comforting in the realism that was your show.

A small suburban town full of normals. All sorts of mundane activities that mostly everyone made feel were…life altering events. And a handful of misunderstood outcasts—like you and Scott and Bonnie—who played supporting characters to the stars. Stars that were, quite frankly, unrealistic and annoying.

Eddie felt that way sometimes though, like he was just some background character waiting for his chance at the spotlight. Who had been the main character in his story, huh? Ronnie? Yeah…he could see that, now that she was on her great college adventure.

But with her gone, what would come of his storyline? Did he just fade into the background again?

Eddie ejected the tape before the current episode finished and propped his feet on the coffee table as he flipped the channels to something else. He needed to focus on something else. He would come back to his tapes, to you, another night and he would wish that you were real once again. Knocking on his door, taking him on a grand adventure with you.

But for now he just needed to stew in his…sad secondary character thoughts.

You got your time in the spotlight, a 2-episode arc at the end of the season, and as much as he hoped that it would be his turn soon…to be the character everyone loved…the person everyone loved…he knew it might never happen for him.

Eddie the Freak. Eddie the outcast. Eddie the idiot.

He would even take a single scene dedicated to him at this point.

Was that too much to ask?

Coming in 2024.

Find the Masterlist here. And the original blurb here.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #Eddie Munson angst #stranger than (fan)fiction #eddie munson #Stranger things fic