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joelalorian · 1 month

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Fall Into Me - Chapter Two: It All Turned Around

dbf!Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Word Count: 2.6k

Series Warnings: Mature to start, but will ultimately be Explicit, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. There will be angst, drama, fluff, humor, romance, smut... basically, the works. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname from her dad, which is explained in this chapter.

Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Thank you for reading this little tale! I did not expect all the love the first chapter received - my heart is fit to burst!

Chapter One | Main Masterlist

Chapter Two: It All Turned Around

You walked the few blocks over to Joel’s house on Monday morning, ready to start your new gig as Sarah’s… babysitter wasn’t the right word. Nanny? Au pair? Nah, that didn’t work either. Whatever, the wording did not matter. You were helping Joel out by taking care of his daughter when he couldn’t, that’s what mattered. Jeez, you thought as you walked along the sleepy neighborhood sidewalk, you were one step away from talking to herself aloud like a mad woman.

When you finally reached Joel’s house, already damp with sweat from the lingering heat, climbing the porch steps to the front door with your eyes glued to Joel’s truck, you realized the flaw in this arrangement.

You didn’t have a car.

How the hell were you supposed to take the kid to and from school without a car?

How did you not realize this sooner?

Knuckles rapping on the door, your teeth worried your plump bottom lip as you considered your options. Admit to the gorgeous single father relying on you to help with his precious daughter that you were a complete flake. Sneakily order an Uber with the hope that Sarah will keep her mouth shut about it. Or just buy a car off one of those online dealers and hope it gets delivered in time.

Those options weren’t great, but what the hell else did you have to work with?

The door finally opened to reveal a frazzled Joel, tee shirt inside out and dark curls mussed. A giggle bubbled out before you could stop it.

“Mornin’ darlin’,” Joel greeted, his lips tilting upwards at the sight of you while his free hand attempted to tame his wild curls. “Come on in. We’re runnin’ a little behind schedule this morning.”

“Good morning, Joel.” Your eyes drank him in. Even in his disheveled state he was gorgeous. If anything, the harried morning look made him even more endearing.

He stepped aside to let you in, glancing to the driveway then the curb. “Where’s your car? Did you walk here?” he questioned, confused.

And just like that, the pleasant feeling of seeing him again washed away in embarrassment. You almost forgot about the car situation again. “Yeah, ‘bout that. I don’t actually have a car.” You could practically see the wheels turning behind his dark chocolate eyes as he stared at you.

Finally, Joel’s head bobbed in a nod as he led you into the kitchen. “Okay, we can make it work. Tommy is on his way over and I’ll just hitch a ride to work with him. You can use my truck for running Sarah around.”

“You sure?” you questioned doubtfully. “I’m sorry, it didn’t occur to me that I don’t have wheels until I was standing on your porch.”

Waving off your apologetic concern, Joel called for Sarah to come down for breakfast. Turning back to you, he smiled, the scruff of his beard barely concealing a delightful little dimple. “Don’t worry about it. Just use my truck when you’re on duty until we figure something else out. It’s not like I need it when I’m stuck on a job site all day.”

“Well, thanks for being understanding, and so kind,” you replied, feeling a little overwhelmed by how wonderful Joel was being.

Sarah appeared at your side as Joel dug in his pocket for his keys, throwing her arms around your waist. “You’re here!”

“I am!” You hugged the little girl to your side with a laugh, surprised to see Joel’s warm gaze on you when you looked up. There was something in his expression that you couldn’t decipher.

“Here are my keys – this one is for the truck, obviously, and this one is for the front door. Don’t mind the other ones,” he said after clearing his throat, a slight flush spreading across his cheeks. “I’ll get a spare house key made this week so you can come and go as you please. You have my cell number, so call me if you run into any problems with the truck or anything else.”

Once Sarah was seated at the table with a bowl of cereal, Joel filled you in on a few other details pertaining to Sarah’s weekday routine and where anything you might need was located in the house.

“Drop off at 8:30, pick up at 3, homework before play, and don’t let her snack too much before dinner,” you summarized his instructions. “I got it. I can make dinner, too, if you’d like.”

Dark eyes flashed with a hint of something indecipherable again as Joel smiled. “You don’t have to do that unless I’m gonna be real late. I’ll call or text to let you know when I expect to get home each day.”

“Sounds good.” Your finger traced random patterns on the countertop as you watched the Millers go about their morning routine and you wondered if you should say something about his tee shirt. You didn’t want to embarrass the guy, but it would be rude not to let him know, right? What was the protocol here? If it was you, you’d want to know before leaving the house, right?

Before you could decide what to do, Tommy came bursting through the front door, boisterous voice calling out for his brother. “Come on, man. We gotta get rollin’!”

Joel rolled his eyes to you as Tommy came to a halt in the kitchen, the younger brother’s smile widening when his eyes raked over you. “Well, hello again, gorgeous.”

“Hey Tommy,” you greeted in return, glancing between the two brothers. Where Joel was broad and brooding, Tommy was lithe and energetic, and flirty to a fault. Both were handsome, but Tommy had ‘player’ written all over him. He was the exact type of guy that you avoided getting entangled with – the overconfident, love ‘em and leave ‘em type.

Growing tired of his brother gawking at you, Joel grumbled. “Alright, stop flirting, Tommy. It’s time to go.” Dropping his empty coffee cup in the sink, he turned back to you. “Call me if you need anything, darlin’.”

You nodded with a smile, watching the brothers kiss Sarah goodbye.

“Your shirt’s on inside out, asshole,” Tommy blurted out suddenly causing Joel’s cheeks to pinken. “God dammit,” he muttered, tugging the shirt over his head to set it right.

Unable to tear your gaze away from the glimpse of broad chest and slightly soft tummy, you jolted when something bumped your shoulder. Snapping your head to the side, you frowned at Tommy’s beaming grin. “Ah, I see how it is,” he said cryptically, the grin never leaving his lips.

“What?” you asked, baffled, mind still flooded with the image of a briefly shirtless Joel. The brothers were gone before you could shake your head clear.

Joel’s truck was ornery, you learned quickly. Stomp too hard on the gas pedal and it stalled. Don’t step hard enough on the pedal and it made funny noises while going nowhere fast. Brake too hard and it squealed. Don’t brake hard enough and, well, then you’d crash, obviously. It was a damn Goldilocks truck, but you adapted quickly, making sure you could get Sarah to and from school safely.

God, could you imagine if your first call ever to Joel was to tell him you crashed his truck and put his daughter in danger – or worse yet, she got hurt? That would be beyond awful!

By the afternoon, you and the truck had come to a grudging agreement. You would treat it nicely and it would do what you wanted it to. That was another sign you were losing your mind, right? Coming to agreements with inanimate objects? It was getting sad. You needed a life, some human socialization, for fucks sake.

“Hey nugget!” you called to Sarah, spotting her bouncing down the steps of the front entrance to the K-8 school. It was the very one you applied to earlier in the day, hoping to take over for a science teacher retiring at the end of the year.

“Hey! That’s what my dad calls me!” the little girl declared as she came to a halt in front of you.

“I know! It’s such a cool nickname, much better than the one my dad gave me,” you laughed and opened the passenger door, watching her scramble into the seat like a pro. Satisfied with the security of Sarah’s seatbelt, you jogged around to the driver’s side and hopped up into the truck.

“What’s your nickname?” Sarah asked as you started the truck with an encouraging pat on the dash.

“Spud,” you groaned, voice barely louder than the rumble of the truck’s engine.

Sarah’s brow furrowed and her cute little nose scrunched up. “Spud? Why does your dad call you that?”

“Ugh, the way he tells it, I was a really chunky baby. ‘Round like a potato’ he said. He didn’t like the thought of calling me ‘potato’ so, the nickname spud was born. I’ve hated it every day, but my dad loves it, so I tolerate it for his sake.”

Sarah listened to your explanation with rapt attention. “Yeah, I can see why you like mine better. I’ll make sure to never call you spud. Maybe we can come up with something better?”

“Thanks, kid! I’d like that.”

The rest of the ride back to Joel’s house was quiet as you focused on driving and Sarah bobbed her head to some tune she hummed. Once you pulled to a careful stop in the driveway, the little girl turned into a chatterbox, recounting every moment of her day as you led the way inside and prepared a small snack.

“Fourth grade is quite the adventure, I see,” you said when she finally stopped to nibble at an apple slice. “I don’t remember it being quite that much fun.”

There wasn’t any homework to assist with, but Sarah insisted on showing you all the A grades she got on her work from last week. She preened under your undivided attention, and you encouraged her to keep working hard.

The two of you were in the midst of playing some Lego video game when your phone buzzed with a text from Joel letting you know he was on his way home. The job site wasn’t far, and he walked through the door before 5 pm to find you and Sarah giggling as you bashed away at things in the video game. You were both laying on the floor, knees bent, and heads perched on throw pillows from the couch as you stared up at the TV. Neither of you even noticed him come in and he smiled at the precious moments he had to take in how genuinely happy Sarah was in your company.

Sarah caught sight of him first, pausing the game and rushing over to hug him. He eyed you as he hugged his daughter, his exhausted gaze silently thanking you for taking care of his entire world.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” he asked, kicking off his boots before stepping farther into the house. “I was gonna order pizza.”

Tempted to say yes just to spend more time with him, you declined knowing they had limited father-daughter time. “Thank you, though. I should get back to my house to finish the paperwork for transferring my teaching certification. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Joel escorted you to the door, watching as you descended the porch steps and strolled down the sidewalk until you were out of sight.

The next few weeks followed the same pattern with you staying late a few nights a week or covering a Saturday when Joel was stuck on a job site. You started making dinner most evenings. Whether he made it home early or late, he always seemed exhausted, and you wanted to ease his burden as much as possible. You might have also wondered how many home-cooked meals the pair actually ate when Joel was left in charge of dinner.

You bought a car off another one of your dad’s buddies – a no nonsense sedan just to get you around town with Sarah safely. Some days, while Sarah was at school, you would even do Joel’s food shopping, knowing that he liked to shop at the bulk stores to save money.

Soon, you found yourself staying longer after Joel got home, eager to spend time with him and watch him be a dad. He was such a good one, much like your own, always giving Sarah his full attention and speaking to her with respect and making sure she felt heard. It left you in awe of the man he was and your burgeoning crush quickly, and quite by accident, developed into an affectionate longing for something you couldn’t have.

“How’s it going with Spud?” your dad asked, taking a swig from the bottle of beer in his hand. Seated at a table on the Miller’s back patio with Joel and Tommy, the men enjoyed a few after-work beers as you and Sarah sat together in the grass nearby.

“Why do you call her that, JB? I always wondered.” Joel questioned in return, curiosity finally getting to him.

You dad laughed, the memories of you as a baby always brought a smile to his face. “She was the chunkiest little potato as a baby, all round with the cutest chipmunk cheeks. The nickname spud just popped into my head and stuck from day one.”

Joel’s chestnut eyes flicked over to watch you during your dad’s explanation, a bubble of guilty warmth building in his gut. He found you immediately attractive when you first met, but now, nearly a month into getting to know and spend time with you, a strong affectionate attraction began to develop. It was wholly against his will, too. You were JB’s daughter – his best friend aside from his brother – and therefore off limits.

Surely him lusting after you broke some guy code, right?

Maybe he just needed to get laid. That would set him straight.

As if reading his mind, JB changed the subject. “Now that you have some help with Sarah, maybe it’s time to get back into the dating world. You need the love of a good woman, son.”

“Yeah, how long’s it been since you had a girlfriend, brother?” Tommy chimed in with a smirk. “A decade?”

The younger brother merely chuckled in response to Joel’s scowl. “I’ve dated, just none of them were good enough to bring home,” he replied, a rough edge to his deep voice. “Sarah’s always come first.”

“As she should.” JB nodded. “I know it ain’t easy being a single dad, but you have to make some room and time for yourself otherwise you’ll go crazy.”

Your dad went on to share some of his experiences with dating as a single dad and how you practically begged him to find a girlfriend when you were a teenager, just so he’d give you some space. After a short while, JB and the Miller men were laughing so hard their eyes were watering. At one point, Joel caught you watching them with a tender smile on your lips and his heart skipped a beat.

“Okay, I guess it’s time to put myself out there,” Joel admitted, forcing his gaze away from you.

“Yeah? I know someone who’d love to go on a date with you!” Tommy declared excitedly, turning to JB. “You know Annica over at the lumber yard? She’s been gagging over this one for ages. I’ll text her to set something up for Saturday night.”

“Sounds like it’s settled then. You’re going on a date, son!”

Joel’s brow furrowed, glancing between your dad and Tommy wondering if he just made a huge mistake.

tbc

Taglist: @mellymbee @untamedheart81 @anoverwhelmingdin @runningmom94 @leilanixx @pedropascalfan221 @lovelyjess69 @sarahhxx03 @sofiparallel

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel x female reader #the last of us #tlou #dbf!joel #Fall Into Me #pedro pascal #eventual smut #eventual romance

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afreakingdork · 12 days

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Spring Break

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader One-Shot

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, POV Second Person, Friends to Lovers, Human/Turtle Relationships (TMNT), Yearning, Romance, Fluff, Romantic Fluff, One-Shot

Synopsis: You're on your first spring break of college and returning back home to NYC. Donnie has agreed to pick you up from the airport and the season of change is ready to exercise its rights upon your friendship with him.

Also available on Ao3

I cannot thank @tmntxthings enough! She took my half formed plot bunny and helped me finish it up and embellish it with the cutest ideas!! This fic would not exist without her and she gets my endless affection! 💞

Plane descent, it was the one part of flying that really felt like a roller coaster. With its little dips and adjustments, your stomach would rise in turn. It made some sick, but you found it exciting. It was a manifestation of coming home. With each drop in altitude you were a little bit closer and, no matter how people felt about plane rides, the excitement was palpable. Even those tired and exhausted, ready for their changeovers, were glad for a moment on the ground.

This was your stop and you were especially excited for what waited for you.

Clinging to your phone, there was a final announcement and you looked out the window. Watching fields and houses grow closer and closer, your heart alternatively soared. Ants took on definition and eventually you were doing the careful careen through buildings to land in LaGuardia. With a squeaky landing that jarred your body, people stood through the taxiing process which prompted fights with flight attendants.

You were back in New York City.

A fervor running throughout the plane, there was still the docking process and each second ticked by through syrup until you got a text.

Donatello, not to be confused with the famous Italian Sculptor: I am at the appropriate baggage claim.

It was a new entry in a sea of others that had you momentarily closing your eyes. You then typed out a response about what you’d endured since landing and Donnie kept you occupied with messages right up until it was time to deboard. Bumping and jostling and giving appropriate glares back, you were soon just shy of running down a tunnel. Just like descent, you were closing in by the moment and once you broke free from a certain pair of doors, you paused only to take stock. It was fate, you thought, that people parted and there he was.

Donatello stood bundled up both for some kind of anonymity and the early spring weather. A balmy cool outside, trees were clinging for a bit more warmth before they burst with color. You were going to miss the blossoms this time around, but you had a lifetime of watching the petals dot the otherwise dirty streets before. You always liked this season. There was a sense of change in the air. A metamorphosis, you saw not just the growth between your youth and now, but everything from the last half year.

You were offered a full ride to a school all the way across the country.

You accepted and left behind everything.

The long days of your first semester would have been lonely if not for a certain purple coded turtle offering to marathon shows with you online.

You texted in the cafeteria until you found your crowd.

You continued to message him because he had to know the latest gossip.

A webcam was sent to you as a gift so you could better work on projects together across multiple state lines.

You clung to Donnie as a virtual lifeline through your first set of finals.

The Christmas holdover in California due to a lab opportunity had been a daunting choice.

It was made all the better as you were given a digital spot at the Hamato family table during Thanksgiving and Christmas.

Then came another bout of studying for midterms.

All to now, where he’d offered to pick you up after something had come up with your parents and you had complained of the taxi fare on your spring break budget.

You were in motion.

In fact, you were barreling towards him. He heard the footsteps, but didn’t connect them to your person as he looked up. Now knowing the source, he jammed his phone in his pocket and took on a sort of prepared alarm. Then, at the last second, he pivoted a foot out. A careful rotation, he lowered his stance into a readied one. It was all the confirmation you needed as you leapt.

He caught you at the same time for the hug and you crushed yourself to him. Momentum should have knocked the air out of you, but he swung. Your body twirled up with your heart and, by the time you were set down, you were groping to get more of him. This was new, you remembered. His scent wasn’t like coming home. You’d never been close enough to really get a whiff. Clinging to his worn hoodie didn’t crop up memories of softness because you had at most brushed it in passing.

You’d known this mutant for seven months and this was your first hug.

You wanted more.

Your only saving grace was he appeared to feel the same. For each tug, to get your arms tighter around his neck, he gave equal pressure around your waist. As you butted your head to his, he clawed into your own jacket, trying to get you that much closer.

It was warm.

It was overwhelming.

You didn’t want to let go.

“Hey.” You murmured against him.

“Greetings.” His voice responded. “How was your flight?”

“Good. Boring. Long.” You nuzzled closer.

“A full work day’s flight.” Donnie hummed, amused.

“Thanks for picking me up. It’s good to see you.”

Finally, after what must have been too long, Donnie pulled back enough to view you with a chide. “You as well.”

A little shy, your arms slipped to rest against his plastron and an announcement interrupted citing luggage. A quick check found you were at the right carousel and you sent Donnie a wry look. “We’re in the right place.”

“I was clear about my location.” He playfully rolled his eyes and reluctantly relinquished you to approach the long luggage circle.

You followed close behind and bumped arms with him. “Oh, there was this lady who would not stop yaking about the toast squares she got in that plane snack mix.”

“Ah, yes, the snack gacha.” Donnie chuckled and bags began to drift down the line.

He explained the odds and you walked him backwards through your trip. There was a gap from when you’d set off for your flight until arrival. He’d been on a video call when you’d packed your suitcase so when said luggage came winding down the metal slide, you didn’t need to say a thing. He knew it and hoisted it up where you shouldered your backpack. You’d returned with mostly things to wash, but you figured that was part of coming home.

You soon drifted away from the building. Working through the bustling drop offs zone, you headed to where Donnie had sequestered one of his vehicles. Parking cost too much for the tank, he settled on something visually low key though the interior was just as technologically stacked as the others. It was a resistance in temptation to press buttons on the dash you had never seen. They felt familiar as he’d taken you on a phone tour when he completed retrofitting the van, but it felt different in person.

Conversation took you home and, before you realized it, you were idling on the street.

Time had slipped through your fingers like water and you hadn’t cupped enough to drink. There’d even been traffic, you’d sat through it, but it hadn’t prolonged the journey. You were due inside. Your parents were waiting. You also would need to leave Donnie. He’d only ever been here to give you this ride. Heart sinking regardless, you moved to give Donnie your regards with a forlorn tilt of your head.

“Let me help you with your bag.” He rushed the statement.

Your eyes met.

You were both a little too eager to delay the inevitable.

“Thank you, I’d appreciate it.” You told him though your heart wanted to ask him over for dinner.

You’d already skipped coming home for winter break and there was no way your parents would allow an interloper to impede on catching up with their child.

You were required to spend time with them first, then friends.

Duty was a strange thing. It brought you home to mom even though you were an adult with a supposed choice. It had your friend hoisting your stuffed suitcase out of the back of a van where you had created the burden of the heft. You clicked up stairs, your luggage wheels hopping steps and Donnie felt the need to fill the space as if he were required to keep from giving you a moment of quiet.

You were thankful.

You didn’t want to think of how you’d miss him.

Again, he’d felt the same.

You liked that about him.

Reaching your door, you knew you hadn’t messaged your parents for this same reason.

It was your own coveted surprise amongst what you had to do.

Donnie was careful in carting your suitcase up silently.

It felt like a stolen moment. “We still on for Wednesday?”

“Yes.” He nodded and pulled up a ninpo calendar for the sake of it. “Mikey has forewarned Señor Hueso and if you make April wait a moment more, I think she will strangle whoever is closest.”

“Of course.” You bobbed your head and felt the reminder of the knob.

You needed to go home.

You needed to see your parents.

You hadn’t seen them in so long.

You hugged Donnie.

Slower this time, you still moved quick enough that you avoided the awkward shuffle. It was an instant threading of bodies where you had to stave off a sigh. You fit so well without practice and his toned arms slung so comfortably around your waist. You bumped your head to his for the sake of closeness. He stilled and you thought it too much until he turned his beak to nuzzle the side of your head. From his inhale, he was catching your smell so you openly breathed him in the same.

Then you came apart, heads down, unable to bear to see the other leave as you mumbled out promises of seeing each other soon.

Donnie left by the sound of stairs and you unearthed your key to head inside.

Wednesday couldn’t come soon enough.

The rest of your Saturday had been a flurry of catching up with your folks. You were pelted with every question under the sun and the few phone calls with them you’d had throughout the school year seemed to have never happened. Your parents remembered none of the details no matter how much you whined about how you’d already told them about your class load. You were struck with backhanded comments about missing the holidays and how this cousin had proposed and that nephew had gone skiing and would you believe the tan your aunt got?

Then came sleeping in your old bed which was now a foreign one.

You called Donnie with your headphones on and he answered after only one ring.

Unable to stand the odd sheets, you curled up beside your window for faint outdoor light and watched Donnie on screen eat snacks as you unloaded about how annoying it all was. You loved your parents, but it was always something. He took his time in the conversation after your most heated complaints were air cooled and then subjected you to his own. His family’s separation anxiety was on another level, but he never made it a competition. You instead felt commiseration, even if the comparisons were outlandish.

Exhaustion took you to bed and the old smell of you drifted up like one you didn’t recognize. You were just tired enough to mention the discrepancy and Donnie made a comment on how you’d changed. You weren’t sure you had as you hadn’t felt like it, but you guessed of anyone, he would know best.

How had that come to be?

Your best friend was here and someone you’d known since elementary school. You still loved them, but they’d fallen to a certain wayside once Donnie appeared. Meeting him had been an accident at best. From senior year finals, you’d picked up a local coffee shop as your own. During summer, you switched to drinks for fun instead of necessity and a new barista started that you liked. She was great at conversation and better at upsizing drinks with a wink so you always made sure to tip. There came a day when you forgot to have cash on hand and you promised to come back by to fork it over. Now on a first name basis, April had scoffed it off, but you still returned after making change at a nearby bodega. It hadn’t been more than 20 minutes and yet she had disappeared. You waited for her to return from break only to notice a mutant was similarly off to the side and one you’d come to find was waiting for the same April.

That was early August.

You’d gone to UC Berkeley in early September.

That was less than a month knowing the turtle in person.

Now you were drifting off to Donnie complaining about how he’d been found sneaking into East Laird’s lab yet again.

He just needed access to one chemical.

They wouldn’t miss it.

He’d doctored the supply sheets himself.

The janitor was paranoid.

You giggled and it must have come too late because he ordered you to sleep.

You told him you missed him.

In truth, you did.

He murmured the same along with a mention of Wednesday.

It wasn’t here yet.

Texting helped as Sunday led straight to a family meal with whoever was in town. You rehashed the exact same stories about school more times than you could count. Your scholarship was both held up like a heavyweight champ’s belt while others spoke to you like you were some Hollywood convert. It didn’t matter that there were six driving hours between the two places. You’d betrayed some inane state pride by going to a far flung college and whether that was a success or pompous choice was your family’s to debate.

You went to bed so angry afterward that you broke your 125 day streak of saying goodnight to Donnie.

You woke up under your old ceiling.

Breakfast reminded you of high school.

Dad had work.

Mom had lunch.

She talked and you listened.

You saw your best friend in the 3 o’clock doldrums.

It was awkward until it wasn’t.

It took about an hour, but you fell in line to your old pattern.

You meant to message your bestie more, but college had taken both of you in different directions.

Who’s this guy you keep mentioning?

Donatello, was it?

Did you meet someone?

What a story that was and it came with a growing smile from your best friend. Each passing word felt like guilt off your lips and you were teased mercilessly.

No, stop that! We aren’t dating!

Why would you ask?

It’s perfectly normal to help a friend out like he did.

Yes, we’re close.

Not that close.

He’s a nice guy.

Yes, really nice, what are you insinuating?

It wasn’t like that.

You wanted to call Donnie on your way home.

Your best friend’s words kept you from it.

Tuesday your dad had off from work and, though they took you, you ended up showing your parents around Prospect Park. Where they’d only heard it was nice, you had seen enough from social media to actually maneuver it. You picked a restaurant they hated and then a bakery they loved. You were nagged incessantly and then pestered.

Tell us about your new college friends!

You don’t sound like you have many, what happened?

Oh, whos’ that?

Tell me more!

Are they nice?

Go to any crazy parties? We won’t judge.

They did.

They judged everything.

You kept Donatello’s name out of your mouth, though he appeared with each question.

He kept you sane.

He had been there for you.

He made things better.

You texted him as you ran to a bathroom stall for a moment of peace.

Donatello, not to be confused with the famous Italian Sculptor: Hard to go back after your taste of freedom?

It was such a him response.

Donatello, not to be confused with the famous Italian Sculptor: Tomorrow, you’ll have us.

Donatello, not to be confused with the famous Italian Sculptor: Don’t worry.

Donatello, not to be confused with the famous Italian Sculptor: Until then, say the word and I can call you away with a lab emergency.

Donatello, not to be confused with the famous Italian Sculptor: I know the codes for several. Do not ask why.

It helped as you rejoined your parents.

One more day.

Wednesday morning and afternoon were tedious affairs with little to do outside of the dreaded laundry. You aired and disinfected your suitcase and ended up cleaning for the sake of it. It made your mom happy and you prepped ingredients for your parent’s dinner even though you wouldn’t be partaking. It would be another nicety in hopes that they wouldn’t say a word when you stayed out late.

It wasn’t like you had a curfew, but you knew the biting remark would be there.

You left just before your parents got home so you sent messages to both of them to cover your bases. Their sent confirmation was like a final school bell and you were running down stairs at an alarming pace. Donnie’s text window appeared next and you shot out a message about your imminent arrival. You felt a buzz in response and wound an oddly familiar path to the necessary sewer grate. One prepped for access to the turtle’s tunnel, you climbed down and only then brought up a map. Above was one thing as you knew your local streets, but the journey below was one you’d never had time to memorize. Donnie’s map was clear and as you switched from sewer to subway lines, you soon came to the brighter lights of the lair.

The Hamato were piled in the living room and you saw Donnie amongst the bale.

He smiled, but it was Mikey who wrapped around you.

Your name was shouted and it summoned the others who hadn’t been paying as much attention. You got friendly pats, several more squeezes from Mikey, one bear hug from April, and a litany of pelted words from the others. Leo’s Hollywood comment didn’t sting as much because he pulled it out in a reference to Son in Law. He did a pretty good Pauly Shore impression and your praise had him pulling out more impersonations. As the chides and jokes flew, you thought about how they hadn’t pelted you with a million and one questions about your college life. They cared little about class and only if you’d had time to catch any local movies or shows.

You nearly wept at not having to talk about only the studious side of your life and you got to share a movie you recently streamed with Donnie. The others hadn’t known either of you watched it and you both excitedly regaled them on reasons not to without spoiling anything. You laughed about a plot line of having been plucked from their environment and joked about red squirrels. Donnie responded in kind about grey and you both laughed until you realized you were the only ones.

“What’s that about?” April asked where she was folded over a couch beside Raph.

“O-oh, it’s-!” You choked on giggles and held onto Donnie’s arm since he was close.

“You see, there was this inane test question that kept coming up.” Donnie filled in for you.

“Non-native grey squirrels have basically put native red ones on the endangered list!” You spoke with too much levity for the topic.

“Now this is a known ecological issue, but the way the professor framed the question…?” Donnie shook his head with a smile.

“He made it out to be like a gang war! So-so Donnie made this joke because they always, freaking always run out of breakfast in the caf when I get out of my morning class about my territory being disrupted!” You giggled.

Donnie bumped you to chastise. “Wait, you’re leaving out your classmate who runs to beat you there, your grey squirrel!”

“Omigosh! I don’t even know her name!” You cracked up.

“You’ve yet to mention the actual campus grey squirrel!” Donnie pressed.

You laughed harder. “Omigosh, he hates me and anyone that goes near his door on South Hall!!”

You both hurled more examples that fit into your branching squirrel joke and you thought everyone was having a good time until Raph’s voice cut through. “Sounds like a good inside joke.”

You weren’t immediately sobered, but your giggles grew strange.

“Yeah, I’m not getting it, but hey that happens.” Leo shrugged. “Squirrels aren’t my first comedy punching bag.”

“They’re cute! What do you mean they kill each other!?” Mikey had a watery expression. “To extinction!? How could they!?”

April patted his back. “It’s a dog eat dog world.”

“Is that why we were the Mad Dogz?” Leo looked to Raph.

“No, but I’m going to say yes.” Raph shined back a snaggletoothed grin.

With that the others moved on.

Suddenly feeling painfully self-conscious, you shirked and felt that Donnie’s hand behind your back.

You looked up at him and he had a grin and whisper waiting for you. “These dum-dums don’t know good comedy.”

“You are the funny one.” You softened up and, in an instant, felt reassured.

He pressed lightly for you to join the room and you jumped back into the conversation which had moved onto pigeons. A hotly debated topic, you took sides and spouted facts you had learned in class. Memes were then shared and eventually you went to Hueso’s. The rowdiest table for what was a comical argument about whether they were his favorite customers, the skeleton yokai refused to answer and only spoke of cash spent and tabs to be paid. Leo chased the man into the kitchen to be his usual intrusive self and you stayed present in table conversation the best you could.

It was difficult when Donnie kept sending you reaction images based on said speech and you found it impossible not to reach right for your phone so each joke would land fresh. It eventually meant both of you were side by side texting on another and it was only when the food came did you jar out of it.

“Can’t leave your significant others for even a second?” Mikey jeered before he tapered off. “Though I kind of thought it was you that Donnie was texting… But that’d be weird right!? You’re literally sitting together, why text?” He laughed.

Others laughed.

You and Donnie didn’t.

It spurned April to steal Donnie’s phone.

Some kind of betrayal, Donnie nearly flipped the table to get it back, but the flash of screen April had seen was enough.

You two were outed and ruthlessly drilled.

This was supposed to be fun, you thought to yourself as you tried to field lobs. They weren’t supposed to be rude like your family and yet you were back to fending vultures off.

Yes, you spent hours talking.

No, you weren’t dating.

Yes, you texted.

No, it wasn’t because it was a secret conversation.

Yes, you were just friends.

No, you weren’t more.

It was only when Leo reappeared and saw the distress mounting on you and Donnie did he step up in his leader position and caught the table’s attention by the throat. He laid out a new topic in the form of recent battles and that conversation took the heat off. You sighed into the booth, feeling particularly drained and when Leo shoved in to have more seat, it bumped you right into Donnie.

Donnie made room, but his hand stayed on the seat, close to yours.

You tapped a questioning finger to his.

Your heart was heavy.

Were you wrong?

Was your friendship weird?

Donnie had gotten you through moving across the country.

Donnie had done so much.

You really, really liked him.

His finger curled around yours for reassurance.

You’d asked once hadn’t you?

Something about if you bothered him early on since you talked just about constantly.

Donnie had scoffed by saying the word itself and told you that he put forth as much effort as he cared to.

You’d be the first to know if he was displeased.

He’d been honest.

When you complained about a science he liked, he didn’t care how hard the class was, you got an earful.

One of the few times you’d tried to use him as an excuse not to study, he’d hung right up and temporarily blocked you so you’d be forced to.

Your hands moved and, with a rush of your pulse, you tucked your other fingers up and over his.

He held your hand with one and ate pizza with his other as if nothing strange had occurred.

You did the same and spoke more normality by responding to something Mikey said.

It was taken with its own retort and everything felt right.

“I’m stuffed!” April flopped back and her jacket slunk down lazily on her shoulders.

“Can’t… move…” Raph groaned.

“That’s what happens when you are here for four hours and thirty seven minutes ordering non-stop.” Hueso commented as he picked up several empty pizza trays.

“One for the road?” Leo burped.

“Depends…” Hueso cracked a brow and slid over the check.

Leo flicked his eyes down once and then over to his tablemates where everyone dodged the question.

“Maybe next time.” Leo spoke guilt and Hueso hummed knowingly as he departed. “Split time! Cough it up!”

Complaints were loud as all sorts of money was deposited on the table.

“I love and hate catching up!” Leo crooned once an appropriate amount was placed.

“We were literally here four days ago.” Raph didn’t have the energy to eye his brother.

“Bah!” Leo swung a lethargic arm and it flopped on the table.

“No more pizza for… four more days…” Mikey grunted.

“Heh, you guys’s diet sucks.” April chuckled and fell over into Mikey on purpose.

The youngest squeaked and dominoed into Raph who shouldered the weight without moving.

“We’ll see you again, what? Friday, right?” Leo craned his head toward you.

Leo was dismissing you.

It was late.

This had been the plan.

Two days.

Donnie squeezed your hand.

You had never let go.

“Well…” You tried to respond.

“You know!” Donnie cut through conversation as if he hadn’t heard how it was coming to a close. “Remember how we weren’t able to find Jupiter Jim and His Majesty Cromslor anywhere online?”

The table quieted and you looked to Donnie curiously. “Oh yeah… We missed it in our marathon.”

“I purchased a copy then, but it only came in a few days ago.”

“That took…” You flicked up a few fingers to count. “Months!?”

“Oversees. Probably a boot leg, but it does indeed work.” Donnie smiled at you.

You felt a flutter in your gut. “We should-”

“Watch it now?” His brows bobbed. “Well everyone?” Donnie looked out, carefree to his inebriated brethren. “Movie night?”

“I’m sleeping!” Raph announced. “Don’t wake me and we’re good.”

“But Don…!” Leo’s head fell onto where his arm was still on the table.

“I could watch.” Mikey’s shoulders bobbed beneath April.

“I’m out. Got work.” April yawned.

“Then it’s settled.” Donnie turned back to you. “Not that we needed permission.”

You chewed on a giggle. “Can’t wait.”

Everyone else dragged themselves back to the lair, but you and Donnie took up the rear as you discussed some lab work. Delving into the study you’d monitored over winter break and what came of it, you were soon sat around the projector where Splinter was asleep in his chair. Raph used the last of his energy carting his dad off to bed and Mikey settled into a bean bag with commands to turn his head towards the screen. Leo helped in that matter and set himself up with his phone in hand to hang out more than watch. You and April said your goodbyes and then Donnie joined you on the couch. Raph didn’t return until well past the first quarter of the movie, but didn’t seem to mind as he flopped down to watch a film presumably the family had seen many times before.

The room was filled with the quiet sounds of the movie until Donnie leaned into you. Your shoulders brushing, he whispered to you a fun fact about the movie that gave way to more. With your head turned against the cushion, you eventually stopped watching the film to instead stare at him. He was enthralling. His lips moved with specific enunciation that you knew came from his love of pizzazz. He topped it off with eloquence from IQ and his flair was infectious no matter how emotionless he tried to present himself.

You adored him.

The credits rolled and there was light after movie discussion where you all found Raph had fallen asleep as promised. Donnie regaled you in his theories on how this movie affected the larger Jupiter Jim universe while he threw a blanket over his older brother. Leo pitched in a few notes about his comic knowledge, but no matter how obsessed the Hamatos’ were in this film series, there was still a limit of how much conversation could be shared.

“Welp!” Leo announced, coming down from a stretch.

That was the second final call of the night.

You had already overstayed your welcome.

You pulled out your phone to text your parents.

Donnie touched your wrist. “Before I forget, I finished my latest project. That targeted hearing device.”

You slowed. “Oh yeah, were you able to work out that model on how it decides what to filter?”

“Yes, in fact, I had a breakthrough-!”

“You finished that two nights ago right? When you were pacing in that fit?” Leo interrupted.

Mikey perked up. “Oh yeah, you were so upset, but you wouldn’t say why! If it was just because you were doing your usual tech walk things, then why not tell us?”

Donnie had obvious guilt and raised his hands.

You stared.

Two nights ago was when you hadn’t been able to text him goodnight.

You were in motion and interjected yourself with force into the fray. “Show us!”

Leo and Mikey looked at you curiously.

You tried not to balk. “It was for you guys too! It will help you gather intel on missions!”

“I thought it was just for your goggles or business people who never take their Bluetooth out, even at dinner parties?” Leo quizzed Donnie.

“The applications are wide ranging! Why do you think I patented it?” Donnie held his head haughtily and headed toward his lab.

The line there went first Donnie and Leo paired where Donie was putting his all into convincing Leo of his inventions use and then you and Mikey who trailed behind in a conversation of your own.

You weren’t sure, but you thought the blue brother glanced at you twice.

Mikey regaled you on a video game he had recently beat and, by the time you entered the lab, Donnie was in full presentation mode. A space you had only been in virtually, Donnie walked everyone to where the buds were and tried them on Leo first since he was the naysayer. They proved to work nicely as you and Mikey played examples by moving around the lab to make noise for the technology to hone in on.

You remembered locations from your guided tour, but definition had been sparse over the phone. Now here and moving about, gadgets kept catching your eye. Donnie explained them with quips from his brothers about use or malfunction. You heard all manner of stories and saw a part of Donnie you had yet to see. Donnie was quick to hang up if his brothers tried to intervene, but he was no stranger to complaining about them. You felt like you knew them better than you did because of it, but seeing the brothers in action was something else entirely.

They carried through, soon fatiguing of reminiscing and giving space for Donnie to show off his more successful tech. He shined, putting his best foot forward in a way you assumed he prepared for investor meetings. He eventually let you examine his bo staff and demonstrated how it could be reformed within his ninpo. He was detailing how his schematics process had changed since acquiring his mystic powers when Leo suddenly yelled up to the ceiling.

“Nope! Beep, beep, beep! Hear that? That’s my brain at full capacity! No more! No more science for Leon! Honk-shoo! Bedtime alarm.” Leo threw his arms up and seemed ready to spin around to leave before he caught sight of you. “Great seeing you, by the way. We’ll be seeing you, but not again tonight! Later, losers!”

You all watched Leo walk out.

Mikey saw his own chance to pull away.

The youngest did nothing distinctly, but you could tell he was ready to head to bed himself.

You had been together for hours now and it was definitely the AM of the next day.

You needed to text your parents.

You needed to go home.

You’d see Donnie again.

You had one last time before you flew back across the country.

You got your phone in hand and messaged your parents to check in.

“Michael.” Donnie held his own anxiety.

That meant both remaining brothers were ready for you to go.

Having already proved to your parents you were alive, you moved to next pen a message about how you’d be home soon.

“Huh?” A bubble popped on Mikey’s attention.

“Have you checked the time?” Donnie moved away from you.

Looking up your screen found the time at 2:47am.

“Oh ho!” Mikey sang with scandalous purpose.

You paused and looked up to see him sporting a huge grin.

“I get what you’re putting down, brotha! It is the one and only reserved time for my most exclusive dish!” Mikey moved fluidly through a few poses.

“Yes.” Donnie looked pointedly at you. “You might have heard of it.”

You blinked a few times not realizing some kind of ploy was in motion. “Special time…?”

Sliding to the right, Mikey’s whole body dipped below his raised arms. “It is time for my unmatched, out of control, unparalleled 3am dump nachos!”

A memory slapped you across the hippocampus.

You did remember.

Mikey had sprung them on Donnie when he was helping you study for finals last year.

The Mikey of the present then snapped to attention in a business-like manner. “Proprietary reserved and guaranteed to eradicate night munchies.”

Your phone buzzed and beckoned with annoyed responses from your mom.

You’d thankfully never sent that message about heading back.

She knew you were doing alright, that was enough.

You closed your phone. “Who am I to say no to the clock!?”

“Nacho time!?�� Mikey turned to confirm with the last party. “That was what you wanted, right?”

“Yes.” Donnie tried to stave off a certain amount of joy. “Nacho time.”

“Woo!” Mikey started to holler but caught himself off to whisper. “Quieter woo because people are sleeping!”

You all filed down to the kitchen where Mikey took point in commanding his own cooking show. Talking about all his past chip and cheese related mishaps, he walked through pantry staples and what wasn’t for good nachos. Donnie settled in by your side and eventually grabbed a few drinks. The pair of you mingled together, sharing little glances amongst Mikey’s display until the nachos were in the oven for a quick melt session.

“Oh man, this was a great idea.” Mikey looked at Donnie approvingly. “I can’t remember the last time we did 3am nachos.”

You did, but you kept quiet.

“Probably after April’s midnight launch at that movie theater.” There was an air to Donnie that said he was purposefully making something up.

“Eugh, was it one of those ones where they watch like six movies back to back?” Mikey made a face.

“Are those marathons bad?” You asked.

“They are when you can’t pause and do stuff like this.” Mikey gestured around the kitchen.

“Helps to be allowed an oven.” Donnie cocked a brow at you.

“It’s not my fault someone started a fire in the dorms a few years ago.” You shot a smarmy look back.

“Finesse.” Donnie’s fingers came up to floss the word.

“This again!” You rolled your eyes.

“The rules are in place to protect! As long as you don’t violate them obviously, then I don’t see the problem.”

“Your homemade oven thing was way sketchier!”

“You could make it out of all the materials you had on hand! It’s completely safe!”

“Just because one can, doesn’t mean one should!”

“Look! I can recreate it now! You never tried.” Donnie went for a junk drawing and came back with supplies. “The most you needed was wire, then a containment unit, easy enough to build…”

Donnie nearly pressed to your side as he cut and created a wire and then spliced it with a battery. Showing you how to then encase the coils, he asked for your help holding something in place. You did so and he eventually came around with electrical tape to bind his creation. He complained about how soldering should be allowed if hot glue guns were. You spoke against that point and your hands brushed. He scoffed at live flames and slipped his arm through yours in lieu of reaching for a piece of plastic that had rolled away. You pressed into him and told him that with that logic you could simply weld.

“Couldn’t you?” Donnie’s face was near yours.

“I’d need…” You reached up and his cheek tipped into your hand as you activated the release on his goggles as you’d seen him do on video.

His lenses came down and you were close enough to see through them to his eyes beneath.

“… something like this.”

“I see… Safety first…” Donnie murmured, leaning in.

“Mhm…” You mirrored him.

A timer dinged and you jolted apart.

“3am nachos!” Mikey came around with oven mitts as if oblivious. “After hearing both your arguments, I’m gonna go with no homebrewing ovens in the dorms. It looks like you’re building a bomb.” He set the tray down and the smell was undeniably delicious.

You might have enjoyed it more had your heart not been pounding out your ears.

“To the uneducated, perhaps!” Donnie grumbled and looked over the spread.

You moved to better reach and heard Mikey talk about the best constructed bite.

What were you doing?

You had almost kissed Donnie.

If that was what just happened.

Donnie.

You had a nacho in hand.

Donnie.

What you had to label as your newest best friend.

Donnie.

Not a replacement, but an embellishment.

Donnie.

Next to you, the man in question said something about guacamole.

He helped you through your semesters.

You still had 10 more after the current one.

Four total years.

That didn’t include masters which you aimed on getting.

On the other side of the states.

As far as possible in the continental US.

That was only the grand scale.

On a minor one, you’d be back there in only four days time.

You’d barely seen Donnie.

You’d also arguably spent more time with him in just seven months then you had lifetimes with some of the people you still happily called friends, but 90% of that time had been through an internet connection.

Donnie.

A chip entered your mouth and it tasted so good you wanted to weep.

It certainly wasn’t for any other reason.

Mikey’s cooking was that good.

Eating.

Eating was happening.

You tried to tune into what Donnie and Mikey were discussing.

Donnie had put his goggles back up on his head.

His eyes looked pretty as he talked to his brother.

They always seemed lazy in expression, but they caught so much.

They also took in nothing if he didn’t care to look.

He’d been looking at you.

Right through that red and blue glass.

The make-up of purple.

Mikey hummed an exhausted note. “Oh man… 5am already? Sun’s gonna be up soon…”

“That late?” Donnie asked absently.

At least your parents had gone to bed and wouldn’t hassle you.

They might because you were absolutely going to get home after they woke up for the day.

That was less than ideal.

You also had lunch plans.

What were you doing?

“I’m hitting the hay!” Mikey announced even though you were sure he’d said other things. “Hug for the road!”

Mikey hugged you and you were sure you hugged back.

“Finish those off or whatever. They don’t keep so toss ‘em! Night, D!”

“Night.” Donnie spoke.

Alone.

You were alone with Donnie.

You’d been avoiding this hadn’t you?

Both of you had.

“Still hungry?” Donnie spoke timidly.

“Sure.” You had barely had any.

You worked through building that perfect bite Mikey talked about and then went for some salsa Mikey had whipped up.

Donnie was right there with his own chip and your knuckles brushed.

You both froze and looked at each other.

You saw it all there.

The budding feelings.

The long distance.

The fear.

The longing.

“It’s too soon…?” Donnie broke away to look at the sheet pan. “Don’t you think?”

You did.

You know you did.

You were weepy as you nodded and ate more than necessary just because the taste helped abate the sadness.

Donnie offered to take you home in his own melancholy.

You’d barely experienced college.

You were so young.

In spite of knowing him so well, it wasn’t enough.

When he pulled over on the empty morning curb outside your apartment, sunlight was peering in on your exchange.

What would you do?

How would you say goodbye?

“Walk me to the door?” You asked.

“Of course.” He put the van into park and turned it off.

You walked side by side in silence up the stoop.

The moment you were both on the same level, you hugged him. Hard into his middle you squeezed him for all he was worth. Not to be outshined, you were similarly scooped. Donnie created a protective outer layer where his face buried down into the top of your head. You both siphoned as much of each other off as you could feeling like it would be the last.

Was that right?

It didn’t feel like it, but for right now it was hard to parse anything.

It was exciting to be close to him.

You hadn’t known when he offered to give you a ride that you’d tackle him right out of your airport gate.

You’d never hugged before that.

You’d never touched at all as far as you could remember.

All of this was sudden.

Too soon.

You rooted your face into Donnie’s plastron. “I’ll still see you Friday?”

“You’ll see me tomorrow if available.”

You blinked up wide right out of his chest.

“You’re on break. I want to make the most of it.”

This time you threw your arms around his neck and he hoisted you up into the hug. You laughed into it until he set you back down and your heads bumped together. Sting moving to cradle, you lingered against one another. You felt more then, how you were rushing. You were jumping to conclusions. You were deciding years down the line before being present in your own moment.

Too soon.

“Dinner.”

“It’s a date.”

You entered your apartment on a cloud nine bubble that even your parents couldn’t pop. It prevailed through your mother’s nagging and you finally catching blissful shut eye. You barely made your lunch appointment with your friend and were disheveled for it. They laughed at you and joked about a rough night. The unsuspecting victim who just happened to ask the wrong question at the right time, you unloaded on them. Not usually the type of friend for long talks, they took it in stride and came out like an MVP.

They gave you advice on how to proceed and shared how they themselves were doing long distance.

It wasn’t for everyone.

You were young.

You needed to prioritize you.

There was also a certain amount of trusting your gut.

All a tricky balance, you came away feeling optimistic and closer to your friend than before.

You also crashed as soon as you got home and had a screaming match with your mom when she returned from work to find you in bed. It was enhanced by you not telling her about your dinner plans, but it all felt like a certain amount of stride. It was par for the course with growing pains of your adulthood and you got yourself gussied up amongst it. Donnie came to get you and you felt whisked away where your dad sent you off in good humor.

You wished he fielded your mom, but you guessed you could only ask so much.

Your date was a romantic one. Dictated by closeness, you counted in touch. There were brushes to the hands that morphed to holds. He’d pressed your back to indicate he wanted to pull your chair out and would eventually pull you to his side when some drunk adults stormed by on the sidewalk. You snuggled close to him during a concession selection and later would rest your head on his shoulder during a movie. Afterwards when you lingered for a walk in twinkling night lights you spoke your feelings into reality and what to do.

You’d wait.

It was too soon.

There was so much more to see.

You didn’t feel sad about anything other than not being able to kiss him when he brought you home.

Those hugs were hard enough to break apart from.

Friday then came and went and this time you felt fully present amongst the Hamato. Sunita and Casey joined for a rowdy bunch and you felt strong enough to take over the entire city. You also were always placed by Donnie’s side whether it be by both your conscious choices or simply your draw to one another which earned some ire. Unlike the last hang out, you were validated and both breezily brushed it off with knowing smiles. That brought more confusion, but any and all were left guessing what your relationship was.

Your family and a huge friend group hangout took Saturday.

Then you packed with Donnie on a video call.

It was just like a week ago, but wholly new.

You wished him a somber goodnight and right before hanging up he asked to drop you off.

You would have to fend off your parents, but you decided you could oblige.

There was little complaint as the next morning your mom asked you point blank who the boy was. You admitted to them the events of the last seven months, mutation and all, which they took in various stages. What your dad heard mostly was your loneliness and how this guy had gone above and beyond to make you feel less so. That was enough for him and in a stern decision, he refused to be moved. It left your mom high and dry outside the marriage unit and she eventually sighed to dreamily say that was why she loved your father.

Comparisons were then made between them and your relationship with Donnie and you shut that down as quickly as you could.

Donnie was then there and in an impromptu parents meeting.

He was surprisingly adept at it and you had a feeling he was aware this would happen. You ended up drilling him on the way to the airport where he admitted he prepared for at least seven possible scenarios regarding him butting in on the airport drop off. He regaled you in them all until you were sick of his preparations and you were at the airport.

He walked you as far as he could.

You hugged.

It should have been scented with desperation, you thought.

Instead, it felt like a promise.

With the same clingy digging, he gave equal pressure to your waist as you gave his head. He clawed your back and you pulled at his mask tails. It caught puffs of laughter from both of you as you drank each other in. You knew his scent now, a specific one you wished to curl up in. You’d remember prolonging time together even when you talked to him on the phone, presumably as soon as you landed. You’d be exhausted and want to shower, but you’d make time. You liked to give it just as he’d do the same.

You parted.

With smiles that were plump with tears unshed, you waved to him and he lingered as long as he could. You thought he even might have continued past that and used his goggles for some x-ray business. In case he did, you metered your steps and kept looking back to send him more grins to log. He probably had a thousand already from the calls or even this week, but you’d give more. You boarded a plane and spring break ended.

Across the country you flew.

Back to school.

Back to work.

Through summer and an internship.

Opportunity and papers.

Talk of job and studies galore.

Late night calls and walls of text.

A flurry of messages.

Arguments.

Cold shoulders.

Apologies.

Fall Semester.

Winter break.

Spring Semester.

Spring break.

Rinse and repeat.

Donnie became your only airport ride. No matter when you came, everyone knew he was designated. It became common knowledge as much as anything else. As much as your friendship, everyone knew that was to be expected.

You grew.

Four years passed.

You found yourself yet again coming into LaGuardia on the cusp of spring. You had plans for furthering education on this side of the country. California had been nice, but Donnie had mentioned a study once that stuck with you. Eight in ten adults lived within 100 miles of where they grew up. It seemed like such a silly statistic four years ago when you’d made your college choice. You weren’t sure if you necessarily understood now, but there was a certain comfort in knowing you’d be in New York for the foreseeable future.

It helped that you grew up in such an amazing city.

What a town, Donnie would say reverent regardless of whether it was bad or good.

Shouldering your bag, you walked out to baggage claim. While the spot may have changed and the man was still growing like a weed, Donnie would still always appear to you between crowd waves. A sort of fate, he’d part pedestrians like the sea and he looked up from where he was tinkering with something on his gauntlet.

A smile spread on his face and he was in motion.

You had to keep up.

A hop and a skip and you collided in a spin. Twirling out for the sake of it, you both murmured affections until he rooted your face out from his shoulder. There he dipped you first for the sake of flair, but brought you up to properly execute what came next.

Your hands tucked behind his neck.

He locked his arms around your waist.

His gaze poured over you.

You tugged him lightly as he was taking his time.

He was hovering, no doubt committing all of this to memory.

You didn’t fault him; you had started dating a few weeks ago.

He’d blurted out the question saying he was unable to wait until spring break or even until you graduated with your undergrad.

You were long past first kiss territory, but this would be the first with the label.

“Donatello.”

“Not to be confused with the famous Italian sculptor.” He staunchly said the same thing he had since the moment he’d first introduced himself.

“Please.”

“Please what?” He jeered.

“Kiss me, dum-dum.” You pulled him as hard as he’d allow and he snuck in a laugh before your lips met.

You would always appreciate this time of year for its change.

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#me #rottmnt #rottmnt donnie x reader #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt x reader #donatello hamato #donnie x reader #rise donnie #rise donnie x reader #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt donnie #fanfiction #my fanfiction

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jazeswhbhaven · 2 months

Text

"Kiss Me More" Mammon <3 (Attacker L-card Prologue React) *Spoilers*

We start here with our Tartaros babes <3 The angels are out attacking them in this huge field that's pretty much on the outskirts of the city. But everyone is handling it pretty well!

First we have my hubby Valefor, holding down the fort with his shields with that big dick energy of his. I swear though he's so cool ya know. Then Bimet while saying something about charging angels a pass fee (love him for that) his skulls are crushing the angels like nothing.

Then sweet little Eligos, the lesser devils that are fighting all come to him, and he's like "EVERYONE CODDLE ME" and they start petting him and giving him praise and he's taking in all of their minor injuries like nothing. So it seems to me Eli can both take away pain and fight at the same time. Neat.

RAH RAH RAH YEAH LETS GO. Tartaros holding it down fr. And we have MC...doing their best by adding Solomon's power to everyone's shields which is pretty cool that we actually get to witness what it is that MC can do in battle.

LMAO Satan allowed MC/Us to go because he knew Mammon would make sure nothing bad happened. And he's right. (also this plays into my ship with Astra and these two when I said he only trusts Mammon to be romantically involved??? hehehehehehe)

But MC starts being a fucking perv during battle and I think it's funny as hell.

First off. That's hot. I'd tell him after battle he looked hot wiping angel blood off him like it's nothing. MC was all like "Damn it's like when food spills all over your big breasts and...ooop." And I was like nah mc me too me too....Valefor with them big ol bigglies just hiding them behind that armor....

And then they were thirsting about how Bimet's bob was swaying and how his serious scowl looked hot and how they wanted to kiss him. Same. And then they look over and Eligos is smiling and waving and MC waves back and that's when all the other devil soldiers around him wave too and MC gets embarrassed lmaoooo

"I should take this seriously" Yes MC, you should...but I mean getting horny on the battlefield isn't too farfetched, we do remember Marbas, Dantalian, yeah they were wildin' on the battlefield too in their comics.

Then we move on to big daddy Mammon <3

Just out here, killin' angels like it's nothing per usual. Love that for him.

Also his muscles were swelling and shit apparently and I'm just here like

pls let me see. i wanna see. animate this or something now.

So while he's going his thing, the angels decided to go after MC and and naturally Mammon is like "nah" and this huge gold curtain is sumoned and they all fall and crash.

Then MC spots an angel that got past his sight and was running up from behind him to attack....

SO COOL SHIT. MC was able to absorb the power from Mammon, and shielded him from the spear! And Once that happened, one of Mammon's hands crushed the angel and that was the end of it.

Except...

OMFG he's...so struck with awe and adoration for MC doing that for him that he's blabbering and being soft and cute and is like "your weak human body tried to shield me wow" (thanks mammon) and goes on about how this act is definitely that of his master and his lover.

OISANFIUSBAFKKKKKKKKKKKSNKJFN LOVEAR???? FOISNFLKSNZC<>Mmmcmmmmclskkk

(admin is having an error apparently)

GOD HES SO FUCKING HOT WHY

MAKES HIM WHAT

So in that moment he picks up MC and was talkin' bout how even their anxiety is cute, everything is cute, he wants everything about them and I'm screaming omfg

Now here's the fucking kicker.

Suddenly hands lift them up in the air and forms a shape around them right? Mammon. Made a fucking house in the middle of battle.

Out of his golden hands. A FUCKING HOUSE YA'LL.

So you're tellin' me. This devil, was so struck with romance that he made this fancy ass gold house in the middle of battle just to passionately make love to MC because they protected him????? F U C K

YES

H E L P

Mammon pls.

SI R

I'm ready.

Yes daddy I am.

And then it just kinda cuts off after that who the fuck knows or cares I'm trying not to cream in my seat cause Mammon is a big fuzzy romance nerd who wants to stop what he's doing to fuck during an angel attack I'm not okay.

He really said "fuck ya'll I'm makin' love to my master rn I love them."

I have to be strong. I don't wanna spend money on seals when this is going to the red key banner later I really don't. I also am just gonna wait for spoilers that others post that are nice enough to do so and that will fuel me.

I love how soft and romantic Mammon actually is, like out of all of them he's just a big ol' soft bear that wants you to love him genuinely and be his and you also be his and any act of love makes him this way omfg.

Also, this was a quick one part because hm seems like they made the prologue shorter than Beel and Levi's. I assume PB felt they gave too much away in the prologue so now they're cutting back a bit. Makes sense. Only makes us want to pull more so we can see what happens...

I'll do Satan's here in a bit (or tomorrow) his is nearly not what you'd expect it's actually more about what happens BEFORE he even shows up lol. see you there lovelies -your lovely admin♥( ˆ⌣ ˆԅ)

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb mammon #whb spoilers #whb new cards!!#mammon blurbs💛#yeah we're at it again with daddy mammon #this made me want to forget everything and present a ring

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avoxrising · 4 months

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The Feral One • Epilogue

Finnick x Y/N

Series Masterlist Link

Prequel is coming in a few months! I haven’t made a Taglist yet and probably won’t start one till I’m closer to publishing. I’ll make a post tagging this series’ Taglist when I’m starting the next one.

Content Warnings - Mentions of fertility issues/miscarriage; death; the end of this series (don’t worry it’s a good ending imo)

Dear Brielle,

A lot has happened in seventeen years. I’ve now lived half of my life without you, mom, and dad. I’ve been thinking about you a lot so my husband Finnick (yes that Finnick lol) said I should write you a letter of all the things I wanted to tell you but never could.

A little over ten years ago we killed President Snow. The districts rebelled and won. The war was brutal and there were times I nearly died, but Finnick pulled me through.

We got married a year later. We never really did the whole dating thing, our friendship just evolved into a beautiful romance overnight. He was there for me after you left and he has been here ever since.

The years since the war have not been easy. I’ve had bouts of seizures that leave me bedridden and ill for days. The doctors said my condition should be worse so I should be grateful. Countless medications and treatments have made slight improvements to my health but the pain will always be there.

Two years after our wedding we almost hit our breaking point. Finnick and I had been trying to start a family for over a year but nothing was working. It was the most frustrating experience of my life post-war and I do not wish those struggles on anyone.

Three years after our wedding, Mags passed of old age. Although we were sad, we were all glad she got to live out her last few years in a free Panem. Johanna decided to move in with Annie afterwards so she wouldn’t be alone. We are still neighbors to this day.

Four years after our wedding, I got pregnant, only to lose the baby a few months in due to a bad seizure. This was Finnick and I’s lowest point to date.

It’s now been a bit over 9 years since I married the love of my life and the father of my child. We were finally blessed with a baby boy, Neptune, 4 years ago today. He is everything I could have asked for in a child; rambunctious, kind, and adventurous. He looks just like his father but acts like his mother.

Two years ago, Neptune’s best friend arrived in District 4. Annie and Johanna adopted a little girl, Jodie, from District 7. Neptune and her do EVERYTHING together. Finnick keeps joking that we should build a tunnel between our two houses so the kids can hang out all the time.

All in all, it’s been a very painful 34 years of existence. Part of me is glad you didn’t have to witness what happened. The other part of me still hopes you’re out there, even though I know you aren’t. I hope that wherever you are, you’re at peace.

Love, your dear sister,

Y/N

Taglist:

@randomgurl2326 @mystargirl-interlude @uther-pendragon-is-an-ass @yourdailymemedelivery @americanprometheuss @|3хі3luv @noisyalmonddreamer @nordicvxid @teaganthemorningstar @samatokisunfinishedcigarette @justtrying2getby @lvsticm @notplutos @innercreationflower @nexxus13 @kachelleee @helluvafire @haymitchabernathyslover @memeorydotcom @frostsword @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @giverosespls @honethatty12 @just-levyy @dd122004dd @nekee-lilac02 @impeterporker @nox-the-gay-nerd @redsakura101 @hopefulatrocity @eddiemunson4ever @fangirlvibez @kittimbo @zucchinimalfoy @sleepy-roman @secretsicanthideanymore @writerofadream @finnysmusic @mayonesavegana @lilifl0wer @finnickodaddy @abbersreads @fox-bee926 @ginger-swag-rapunzel @isasalom @yizhoutv @livingdead-reilly @coriolanussnowswife @faephoria @omwtkydttfym @iris1587 @sarcasm-and-stiles @10ava01 @impossessedbyjeongyeon @littleanubis21 @scorpiolystoned @maxinehufflepuffprincess

*if the tag didn’t work please check your settings to make sure other blogs can tag you

#hunger games #finnick odair #hunger games fic #the hunger games #finnick odair x reader #finnick x reader #catching fire #mockingjay #finnick odair angst #finnick angst #finnick #thg finnick #finnick fluff #finnick odair x y/n #finnick odair fluff #the feral one

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axolotlwrites · 4 months

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"Writer's Block"

SubElliot x M!Reader

Yeah, so this one took a while. Sorry to keep y'all waiting, but good things come to those who blah blah blah. It's food to be back, and I'm proud to deliver some smut.

My next piece is undecided as of now, but I'll get back to yall soon about it. Have fun.

CW: anal sex, anal penetration, unprotected sex, anal creampie, mentions of clinical visits and implied injuries, mentions of violence, and being obscenely cheesy

To tell the truth, you hadn’t read any of Elliot’s prior, shorter works before you had actually become friends with him. It’s not that you weren’t an avid reader, nor that you weren’t particularly interested. His work was just one of those things that fell into your blindspot during the hazy, depressing Joja days. There wasn’t much time for reading when there was a “weekly” quota to meet, and you were expected to fulfill that quota in a couple of days.

But, after moving to the farm, you suddenly had a large chunk of time on your hands. Turns out, farming is just a lot of sitting around and waiting, if you don't count the occasional bouts of fishing and cutting dangerous monsters to ribbons (or, alternatively, getting cut to ribbons and having to stop by the clinic and get lectured by Harvey and Maru. You were fairly sure you could kill some of those stone golems with how thick your case file was after a couple years in the valley.)

However, after getting to know the man past a quick introduction on your first foray into the beach, you’d taken a gander at some of his work. Various stories in various genres; mysteries, sci-fis, a small fantasy novel that hadn’t been entirely finished… he was a storied author, but he hadn’t actually published anything yet. The genre that had stuck out to you the most, however, had been his romance novels. The man’s tendency for flowery prose and language fit well in such stories of love, heartache, and occasionally lust.

The latter, however, wasn’t always Elliot’s strong suit in writing. Elliot was a romantic man, and physical intimacy was always a part of that, but writing actual sex scenes seemed to be a weak spot for him. He could write smut well, there was no doubt, but as his lover you always noticed how… flustered he would become. While writing his newest novel, coincidentally about a “handsome and rugged” farmer boy and an aspiring writer, he’d cooped himself up in his room several times this week, but the start of autumn had creeped up on you. You’d been too busy to notice the way his face turned red whenever he looked out of the window of his study, watching you plant new crops and tend to the animals. Too busy to notice how whenever he greeted you after your farm work, his touch lingered on your arm as you planned out the next day’s work in your head. Too busy to notice his disheveled hair and clothes whenever you knocked on his study’s door to bring him dinner.

And quite frankly? It was driving him fucking crazy. Elliot was up the fucking wall with desire, filling pages and pages full of the most illicit smut he could think of. He spent hours pouring over those pages for typos and grammatical errors, but every time he looked at the pages he thought of you. Elliot thought of your hands around his neck, your hands in his hair, forcing him to take you deeper and deeper, his back arched as you pumped deep into him from behind… but the fantasies wouldn’t cut it anymore. He needed to feel your skin on his, needed your hands around his hips and your lips lingering for more than a chaste peck. He needed to feel you whisper, sweet and breathy, into his ear as your hand stroked him to completion. He wanted everything, everything right now… but he had a semblance of restraint. He would at least ask politely before he begged you to tear him apart.

Finally, a week into the season, he got his chance. Rain had finally come, the auto-feeders were filled, and you were free. Elliot had been draped over you in his sleep, his hand across your chest as you slept on your back. He gazed upon your sleeping face, letting the pitter patter of the rain on the window soothe his mind, as it ever wandered. Eventually, the allure of the crook of your neck was too much to bear, diving in softly to feel your warmth on his lips. He had to stop himself from grinding against you as he took deep, long breaths of your scent in.

You awoke to his hand caressing your cheek, his breath heavy and warm on your neck. You moved slowly, wrapping your arms around him to pull the rest of him flush against you. If you were any more conscious, you would have felt his length pressing against your leg. You turned your head to look at him, the smile on your face coming naturally. Your voice was soft, glazed with the sleepiness that marks the recently awakened. “Good morning, Elliot.” His hair was disheveled, tangled, and thrown about, but through it all you could still see his handsome face. Framed by the soft early morning sunlight seeping through the window, you didn’t care to stop yourself from staring.

It was quiet, despite the one-sided tension. You were relaxed, gazing into your lover's eyes, but his mind was going utterly feral. You’re always amazing to him, always, but in this light? At this moment? No words could describe his utter attraction towards you. You were nothing less than the most gorgeous being on the planet, and he knew it for a fact. Said beauty stunted his response, forgetting to remove his head from your shoulder to speak. It was muffled, but you got the gist of it; something like “Good morning, my darling.” As he fell back into your neck, his hand snaked its way into yours, as warm and soft as it’d always been.

However, your body had other ideas. It had been in that bed for eight long hours, and it needed to stretch. As you did so, tensing and relaxing and spreading your body out to work out the stiffness of sleep, you felt it. You could feel it, hard against your thigh now, and you weren’t foolish enough to believe it to be anything other than Elliot’s penis. You were about to just chock it up to morning wood, until you felt his breath quicken against your shoulder, his hand grip yours tighter, and a barely stifled moan breach his lips.

Sensitive… he was always so sensitive when he was pent up. The oddities of the week started to piece together inside your head, clicking together ever so simply. You were stiff, for a moment, painfully so… similarly, his cock was STILL pressed against you as you debated and questioned in your head what to do. A conclusion came quickly, however, and with that you turned to him and brought a hand to his face. You chased his lips with a passionate fervor, wasting no time with words that you thought would just get in the way. He breaks the kiss quickly however, proving you wrong as he straddles you.

“I need you, my love. Badly.” It’s short, breathy, lacking his usual smoothness and charisma. These are words tinged with just as much lust and desire as love and passion. “I need you to fuck me, darling. I’ve needed it all week.” His hips move feverishly against yours, a look of strained arousal on his face as he rubs himself against you. Your hands move to them, slowing his movements as you take control of the situation. He groans in protest, but you pay him no mind. After all, he’ll be feeling much better once you get those pants off of him.

Pulling off his sweatpants while he relentlessly grinds himself into you is no small task, but it’s easy compared to keeping yourself from ripping the fabric of your boxers. Truth is, this whole scenario almost had you as riled up as him, straining against your underwear while he raised his hips so you could pull his off. His shaft and balls rested heavy on your stomach, painfully hard and red, throbbing as it felt the warmth of your skin. Elliot looked down at you, his breathing heavy as he tried his best to contain himself. You were little better, your hands resting on him, one on his hips and the other on his thigh. Slowly, you slipped your hand between the both of you and pulled your cock through it’s fabric sheath, gazing into his eyes as you stroked it slowly.

“How do you want me, Elliot?” Your hand stroked his thigh, grounding him in the moment as you spoke. As he answers, he rubs his knuckles over your stomach, the other resting on his leg. “Like this, my dear. I want to look at you. I want to look into your eyes.” It's shaky, but it's said with a grin and a comforting tone. You sit up slightly, your cock resting against his ass as you look at him. He nods, and the fun starts.

You line yourself up to his hole and begin to ease yourself in, wary of how tight he is. Elliot braces himself on your shoulders as you push inside, a long groan escaping his mouth as you stop about halfway inside. You clash your lips with his as you fully push inside, muffling each other’s moans. You hold him close, lazily thrusting into his ass as you bask in his body. You keep looking up into his eyes as he looks down into yours, composure lost as he moans quietly into the air. Your hands roam his body as he shivers in your grasp, one hand resting lightly on his ass, the other gliding up his back, slowly coming to the back of his head.

Your hand rests in his hair, pulling him closer so that you could line kisses along his jaw. Elliot whined into your ear as you pumped into him, reaching the deepest parts of his body as he ground his hips into yours. He was so pretty like this. No wonder you couldn’t keep yourself from pulling his hair, giving you the perfect angle to lay kisses on his neck. He couldn’t stop himself from bucking down onto you harder when you bit his neck. You couldn’t help yourself, instincts taking over as you left your mark on his body. As you ruined him, inside and out, he moaned and cried out in pleasure, your hand still pulling his hair to get better angles to lay kisses and bites.

Elliot wasn’t going to last very long. Right then, all of his most lustful desires were being fulfilled, and he couldn’t be more satisfied. The love of his life was balls deep inside of him with no intention of pulling out, and he couldn’t be more in love. His cock was rubbing against your stomach, and he couldn’t feel closer to the edge. “My love… I’m… not going to…” If your hand hadn’t been in his hair, he would’ve collapsed into your shoulder, crying out as he peaked. He tumbled over the edge of orgasm with a loud, drawn out moan as you wrapped your hand around his cock. As you stroked him to completion, he whimpered and melted under your touch, cum splattering across your stomach in a vulgar display of love.

You, however, weren’t done. You were getting closer, every thrust becoming a monumental hurdle. He was no longer grinding against you, as exhausted as he was, so you were fucking up into him at your best pace. As you inched closer, you hesitated, whispering into his ear. “Can I… finish-” He interrupted quickly, exhaustion fading under a burst of excitement. “Inside, my dear, inside of me. I want your cum inside of me…” Your response was swift, firmly clashing lips together as you held his hips and thrusted up into him as fast as you could. You brought yourself to your climax quickly, holding him down on you as you filled his hole with a nice, thick creampie.

You crumpled back onto the bed, Elliot falling with you as exhaustion took its toll. You were sticky, tired, and covered in cum. You were also in a state of absolute bliss, holding your lover tight in your arms as the both of you recovered. He held you just the same, whispering praises and affirmations into your ear as he tried to regain strength in his legs. It was his suggestion that the both of you get in the bath, one that you quickly agreed to. Slowly, (with slightly unsteady legs on Elliot’s part) a warm bath had been set and soaped up, bubbles overflowing onto the bathroom floor.

You laid there, in that warm bath, Elliot resting against your chest as the rest of your muscles relaxed. Holding his waist, you let your face fall into his hair. It wasn’t wet yet, but just as soft as it had always been. You held the love of your life in his arms, a smile running across your face as you thought of the next time he might have such a lustful case of writer’s block.

#notforwack #stardew valley #male reader #stardew fanfic #stardew farmer #stardew valley x reader #lemon #romance #fanfiction #mlm #sdv elliot x reader #sdv elliott #stardew elliott #stardew valley elliott #elliot stardew valley #elliot stardew valley x reader #stardew valley elliot x reader #elliot x reader #axolotlwrites

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pettyprocrastination · 1 year

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thinking about how as Aemond’s wife you are the model of perfection.

Your back is straight as you curtsy when you first meet him and hair neatly braided with fine jewels. Your voice is even and never waivers as you speak to him of your family and how grateful they are for this union.

You are intelligent and beautiful, the perfect wife.

It’s why Aemond hardly ever spends time with you.

He bears no ill will toward you, of course. There is no resentment or hatred to his lady wife, but there are no fond feelings either.

He knows of courting and romance, his mother taught him everything from a young age. The poor woman would hold her son’s hands tight and explain that a man must not only respect his wife, but truly cherish her. Love her in the eyes of gods and men. As he grew older he noticed the way his father would wave off her constant advice and concerns until the dreaded night where she was the only one defending him after he lost his eye.

But practice was one thing. When you were nothing but a concept. A figment of Aemond’s imagination when he was ten and marriage was only spoken of during his lessons. Before he lost his eye. Before he heard the ladies of the court whispering about his mutilation and before he watched a whore flinch at the sight of his scarring when Aegon dragged him to a brothel on his thirteenth name day.

He learned then that no matter how much he would love and worship his wife, it would not be returned.

Rather than attempt to force it (he was no brute and had no intentions of doing something so cruel) he simply let you be by yourself.

Yes you were married. You sat by one another at every meal and formal event and on the rare occasion he would even ask for your hand in a dance. But Aemond’s affections toward you were few and far to find.

But there were moments.

Where his icy facade would weaken and you found yourself able to slip through the cracks.

Alicent had told you of his “moments” when the engagement had been announced. The queen herself taking you by the hand as you walked through the garden and explaining gently of Aemond’s condition.

“There are times where he feels a great deal of pain because of the-” She paused, chewing on her cheek while trying to find the most inoffensive way to describe the tragedy that befell her son. “-incident he had as a child.”

You knew enough of it. Many rumors flew through court the day Aemond targaryen walked in with a patch on his eye after Laenor Velaryan’s funeral at driftmark. Some day it was from a sparring incident, others say it was a mark he bore from the first time he mounted the mighty vhaegar. Others say that the Rouge Prince Daemon Targaryen himself gave it to his younger cousin after crude words were exchanged behind closed doors.

You didn’t know what was the truth. Aside from the day the princeling got his scar, was the same he got his dragon.

A fair trade, some would say.

But they didn’t live with the attacks he did.

Nerve damage, is what the maester’s called it when you asked them for more information. His wound may have healed years prior but the prince would continue to live his life with constant bouts of mind-numbing pain brought on by the slightest touch or too sharp of a wind to his cheek.

“Senseless fits.” Aegon called it. When he heard about your curiosity about his brother’s condition he had all but cornered you late at night in the hall. “Anything will set him off and send him throwing a tantrum like a belligerent child. It’s quite entertaining.”

But there’s a moment where the elder brother frowns and you see a shred of concern in his eyes.

“He doesn’t like to be touched during those moments. It makes the pain worse. So if you’re trying to find some way to comfort him I’d recommend you do something else.”

What was ‘something else’ you learned, was simply being there.

Sitting by his side when he curled into himself, trembling fingers reaching out to grab yours and not complaining when his nails dig into the palm of your hand as he cries out in pain. When his breath evens out and the pain subsides, he crawls to you and presses his face to the crook of your neck. He’s far too tired to cover the gnarled scar covering the side of his face but you show no fear or disgust at the sight of it. Your fingers run through his hair, gently combing back the silver tresses and ignoring the tears that stain the shoulder of your gown.

The next morning your husband would wake in your arms and takes a moment to watch your peaceful expression and the way the morning sun kisses your skin.

That day Alicent notices her son sits closer to you at breakfast, speaking softly to you of something she cannot understand. But when she sees his hand reach out and grasp yours, she smiles.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #reminded me of the post about aemond most likely having some sort of nerve damage from losing his eye so- here she be #idk something about composed wives who are just as strong and dangerous if not more than there husband just gets me man #not edited or beta read i just wanted to do a writing exercise to try and clear my mind cause its very blurry atm #this is very wonky wobbly but im trying to keep myself writing even if its silly little things so i dont lose practice yknow!!#for the aemond girlies *passes out*#anyways part two in the 'aemond isnt good at affection' vault because im confident in it #man just assumes you arent attracted to him so he steers clear of you #but is also incredibly protective and a lil jealous

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morallyinept · 7 months

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Five Days - A Joel Miller Series

Summary: Joel Miller comes back into your life unexpectedly after a gap of thirty years, and stirs up all kinds of memories and longing. Now, as you're stationed on an outpost for five days alone with the man you stupidly let go of all those years ago, you have a chance to confront him about your past life together and all the things you wished you’d said and done.

But Joel’s different now, and you know you need to tread carefully. Joel Miller is not the same man you once knew in another life.

A slow burn romance set in the post apocalyptic world, approx. twenty or so years after the initial Cordyceps outbreak.

Pairing: Post-Outbreak Joel Miller x MatureF!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. However reader is of a similar age range as Joel; in her late forties/early fifties. Joel is slightly older at 56.)

Chapter Word Count: 3.8k

Series Masterlist

☝🏻See Series Masterlist for full smut warnings & triggers in this story. Chapters that contain smut or triggers will be highlighted in the chapter notes below. 👇🏻

Chapter notes: You've arrived in Jackson. Now it's time to formulate a plan on tackling the threat of the infected horde. Nothing too heavy to note here in this chapter, although there is some angst. Joel makes his appearance.

Enjoy! 🖤

Previous Chapter

The following morning, Joel Miller doesn’t hear his name being yelled over the mitre saw, lowering it to cut through the wooden beam he slides perpendicular to the blade.

Saw dust puffs out in a beige cloud at the end of the table, dispersed by the breeze, and through it he sees his younger brother coming into view.

He jabs at the button with a stubby thumb stopping the saw and wipes his blistered hands on a dank cloth hanging out the back pocket of his scuffed and beaten denim.

He feels the irritating graze of an embedded splinter already nestling into his pointer finger, and his eyes sting from the blow back. He makes a mental note to look for any goggles on his next scavenging mission.

Joel scans the work being done on the foundations to the plot on the left of him approvingly, although his expression doesn’t change; twisted up in a knot of constant frowns that's as regular as the weather. Several houses are going up as planned, and he’s on track to fill the quota he promised Maria he’d deliver by the fall.

Then he watches, with a slight mirth as he shakes his head in haughty derision, as Tommy Miller channels John Baxter from A Fist Full Of Dollars. Strutting towards him with that stupid white Stetson perched on his head, and all he’s missing is a gold star badge pinned to his lapels and a six shooter resting on his hip.

“They were fuckin’ right!” Tommy exclaims as he gavottes up to big bro.

“Who was?” Joel asks, dumbfounded.

“Shit, ya don’t know?” Tommy rattles, the jet of his hair under the Stetson appearing damp from the sweat as it catches the sun. Oiled black curls frame his grizzly face that Joel notices is ageing a little more now. Fatherhood, he presumes. “Newbies. Took ‘em in yesterday mornin', five of ‘em.”

Joel tosses down the cloth and retreats back under his workshop canopy lazily with Tommy pulling up the gauntlet. A constant shadow that plagues him when he'd rather just get on with the job at hand.

Gossip isn't his forte, despite Tommy feeling the need to run off the comings and goings of the commune to Joel on an almost daily basis. However, being in the know tends to help him navigate this tight knit community where everyone seems to know everything about everyone, much to Joel's tempestuous chagrin.

“Yeah, n’ what are they right ‘bout exactly? Forgot m'crystal ball today.” Joel drinks from a cloudy glass of homemade lemonade that’s far too sour for his liking; needs more sugar, he thinks.

His brown eyes squint out into the sunlight making them look amber as he sucks the tart taste from his tongue. He's made a whole jug of this shit and it ain't gonna go down too well with his hiatal hernia, despite being parched from working in the heat all day.

“There’s a horde of infected, ‘bout fifteen klicks from here. S’big.” Tommy explains.

Joel eyes him narrowly over the rim of the glass. “How big?”

“Least a thousand strong, they reckon. Wiped out their camp. Poor sons o’ bitches.” Tommy leans against a pile of standing wood beams and it clatters, unsteadying him.

Joel lances him a pissed off look and pushes him out the way to neaten it up again. He’s always coming by and messing with his shit.

“Thousand strong?” Joel mutters out through a strangled gulp. A subtle tightening is felt in the centre of his chest, but he does his best to wring it out before it can unfurl. Some days it's easier than the others.

And catching the splinter in his finger as it scrapes against the wood brings the sting to his focus and he winces. "They sure 'bout that?"

“Yeah. We sent scouts. They just got back."

"Shit," Joel murmurs, sucking his finger, gnawing at the irritation. He can already feel his blood start to ice over at Tommy's revelation.

"Y’ever heard of anythin' like that? They evolving or somethin'?” Tommy enquires.

“S’possible. Behaviour could change.” Joel shrugs and thinks on it for a moment. “Maybe they know there’s no-one left in the cities anymore. Finally picked 'em clean.” Joel grits his teeth and carries on arranging the planks.

He catches Tommy's look which mirrors the concerned ticking in his own mind.

“Maybe it’s just a coincidence, congregatin' like that.” Tommy shrugs.

Joel shakes his head, tipping back the remaining lemonade with a hiss around his teeth as it burns his gums. Joel doesn’t believe in coincidences.

Or much more than that these days.

“Maria’s formulatin' with their leader, planning on doin' something ‘bout it. Need you in on this.” Tommy states clearly.

“No, ya don’t.” Joel remarks sourly and turns back to the saw. “M'busy.”

“I ain’t askin’,” Tommy says and Joel's shoulders hunch up.

Joel contemplates it, contemplates strangling him, but nods in defeat as he runs his hand around his aged scruff as his younger brother stares him down into submission. His forehead sweats as he adjusts to the mounting predicament they face.

“M’gettin’ too old for this gallivantin’ around shit, Tommy.” Joel sighs.

His last supply run hadn’t gone so well; ended up with a twisted knee and returning a little worse for wear. He was still tired from days of sleeping rough on hard grounds, from fighting with infected that came his way.

From listening to Tammy and Garret bicker non-stop the whole way there, and then fucking like jacked-up rabbits, thinking he couldn’t hear them when they made up, stuffed clumsily and too tightly into one sleeping bag.

He was always paired up with them as of late for some unknown reason, probably to test him further when Garret would harp on about how using magic erasers would literally clear the dirt and gunk off of anything in a pinch. Is that so? Joel could only reply whilst his fingers became heavier and itchier on the trigger of his rifle.

Probably orchastrated to alert him to his own sense of loneliness too. Everyone, or at least it felt like that, was part of a pair in the commune.

Friends, lovers... and some days it only served to remind Joel at how he was an obvious smear on that schmoozed harmony that orbited around him.

Maria had tried - or rather forced - to pair Joel up with unwitting and unwilling suitors, fearing that the longer he was left to fester by himself, the more of an unhinged liability he was in some way.

He'd agreed, after much wearing down, to a date with Carrie, just to stop Maria from meddling. Although, if what constitutes as a date these days is an over-cooked meal in the Tipsy Bison, where Carrie and Joel were sat on the same table in stunted, awkward silence, whilst everyone around them gawked and whispered like they were in a fish bowl for their amusement, well... Joel wasn't keen to repeat the experience.

Carrie's boy was of similar age to Ellie and apparently that was enough to make her Joel's soulmate.

He was inclined to disagree.

After a frank conversation, and a bitch-fest to Tommy about his woman getting all up in his personal grill, Maria had backed off and left him to his own singular devices.

Joel just preferred the quiet now.

Preferred that to the unzipping of his skin for someone else to bear witness to the horror of his insides that were rotten and tightly wound around his bones like dried out vines.

Despite the nauseating sounds of Tammy rutting like a Red Wattle hog with Garret a few yards from him, somewhere in the back of his mind, Joel would still reminisce about the touch of a woman and how it had been a long time, despite his resistance to it.

And then his mind would think of all his past failures in the dating department and then he wouldn't be able to sleep anymore after that, so would get up and remove himself away from the incessant humping, and try not to shoot himself in the face in the middle of nowhere.

Joel needed rest, needed some damn sleep.

Needed to get these houses up whilst Tommy ran around playing Sheriff, and to stay busy. Keep the thoughts at bay, keep the fear locked up tight in the box he tried - and often failed at, keeping the lid on.

“Ah, we'll fix ya up with some retirement home later. Ya ain’t dead yet, old man.” Tommy replies.

“No. But you will be.” Joel tosses the cloth at him and a small, guarded smile slips off his lips. “T’fuck is that on ya head anyhow? Y'look like fuckin' Woody.” He flicks the Stetson.

Tommy’s face softens as he claps Joel on the back. “Y'eat any breakfast yet?”

Joel shakes his head, feeling the constant loss of his appetite standing in solidarity with him.

“Come on, I’ll buy ya some eggs.”

“What with? Ya ain’t gon’ buy me shit,” Joel snickers, allowing Tommy to drag him towards the bar.

That same morning you’re sitting in The Tipsy Bison with Kelper and the others of your group having some breakfast of your own.

Guthrie eats one-handed with furtive peepers darting madly around the place, and Sal just seems happy to be able to taste bacon again, moaning in orgasmic delight as she crunches around the crispy rind.

Max is fumbling his way through sloppy mouthfuls of mushy oats as he talks with Kelper. You’re still amazed at the variety of food that’s on offer, but the wary faces around you all cut into that enjoyment somewhat.

Their eyes are cautious, yet curious. As you meet some of them, they immediately look away.

Maria’s in the bar with her baby in her arms; a dribbling bundle of gurgles that’s cute as he is loud when he screams. She reassures you all, as she does the rounds, that everyone will soon warm to you; that it’s normal for any newcomers to be looked upon scathingly.

And you agree; you were all just as wary of intruders bundling into your peaceful harmony when your own group welcomed them in. You have to earn people's trust, it’ll take some time.

You get up to dispose of your plate, there’s table service in The Tipsy Bison, but you want to feel useful and at least try to give something back in return as thanks, no matter how small the gesture.

These people are trying to create a normal world within a chaotic one, but manners still exist.

And it fractures you for a moment at how everything seems so… normal around you.

Laughter, chatter. Everyone seems so carefree. Like the stillness has ground everything to a halt, frozen in a snapshot of time gone by that you still pine for; a hedonistic wonderment that's still craved in your blood. It's surreal, almost unsettling.

You can feel it thrash around in your squally gut.

"Hey. You good?" Kelper's voice is beside you and his hand rubbing across the top of your spine, which melts the icicles jarring your vertebrae immediately.

You smile weakly at him. "Yeah. I'm good."

You see two men come into the bar out of the corner of your eye, talking with deep Texan accents that echo into the hollows of your bones, but you pay no mind as Kelper offers you more coffee to go, as you scrape your plate into the waste bin for food scraps.

Makes sense that they’d compost it as you read the signs informing you so. Nothing is wasted here.

You turn, smiling to Kelper, lost in listening to him regale you about something with regards to the plan for the horde, when you brush past the upper arms of one of the men, colliding with him gently.

You feel it again; the wave of it brushes over the fine hairs of your skin.

Something about that accent that echoes in the deepest corners of your mind reminds you of a hole you thought you had cemented over. A bolster of prickles floods your epidermis again, and then it's gone as quickly as it comes.

You don't stop though, not capturing his face, as he throws a muttered apology over his broad shoulder, and you toss one back as the man beside him in a white Stetson talks his ear off listlessly.

You laugh as you leave, probably a little too loudly at something Kelper quips to Max as it pulls you out of any sense of recognition that you just swam in.

You forget it instantly.

Joel looks up just to see your silhouette disappear from the window of the door; your hair flowing behind you like a comet's tail in the summer breeze. The back of your head is all he glances.

He frowns, tossing away any semblance of recall that haunts the base of his spine for a moment and shakes it off as quickly as it comes.

Somewhere deep inside of him, he’s heard a laugh like that before.

A sense of déja vu clouds behind his eyes as he predicts exactly what Tommy will say next and finishes his sentence for him, much to his younger brother's joviality.

He smiles thinly, turning back to the hot cup of brown pouring out for him and wanting to get back to work. Tommy tries pressuring him into eating something, but as Maria approaches with the now screaming baby, Joel has an excuse to finally scarper.

It's not that he doesn't enjoy his nephew, more so that he can't stand the noise he makes at these decibels in his only ear that can hear clearly.

You follow Kelper and the others outside and back towards the houses, readying to meet with Maria and the council shortly.

Kelper tells you that you shouldn’t be nervous, when he clocks how quiet you are this morning, and you're not. If anything you want to get out there and get the job done. Some revenge on those dead assholes might make you feel better for what you’ve all lost.

And Max is only too eager to agree with you as you throw him a small smile.

You stop, sighing when you realise you've left your jacket in the bar. 'I'll be back, you guys go on," you say to them as you head towards the bar entrance.

As you go to push in, you collide again with the same man coming out, and it knocks the wind out of your sails as the fleeting recognition now instantly floods through your senses, as you catch his annoyed features peering at you as his coffee sloshes over the rim of the cup.

Oh my God. No way!

Crumpled Polaroid snapshots of times long since passed rattle and hurtle across your vision as it all comes back to the forefront for you to relive in painful detail.

You feel your heart lurch into your throat for it to regurgitate out of your mouth at his feet in a bloody mess of sloppy ventricles. You feel unsteady for a moment as the whole world tips on its axis and you feel yourself swaying with it.

It boils; your heart palpitating, your fingertips thrumming.

You recognise the wide, rich brown eyes staring back at you filled with regret and longing, or at least that's what you imagine in this moment of pure unadulterated shock.

It's hard to know if any of this is real, or if you've just been shoved cruelly into some torrid dream.

His hand is crushing the coffee cup in his grip as he regards you too with instant familiarity, and something else weaving across his worn features.

“J-Joel?” You splutter, amazed. Holy shit! "It's really you."

He's mute. He hears his name roll out of your mouth, something he never thought he would ever hear again, and it stops time.

Unable to speak even if he wanted to as a croak similar to a toad escapes him from the back of his throat that's now closing in on him.

"W-what are you…?" You fail to finish the question as the unspoken awe crushes and winds you both.

He thought it was you, in a moment of weak, stupid delirium; was convinced it was your laugh he’d heard, but couldn’t be sure.

Couldn’t be sure if it was just another spectre haunting him.

And now that you're here looking up at him, smiling in that way he remembers suddenly, and with watery eyes, it stuns him too. Stops every coherent thought in his jumbled brain, stops his fingers burning from the scalding coffee splashed over them, and words fail him as you stand here before him - having the audacity to be alive and looking just as staggered as he is.

His feet feel like concrete blocks and someone shuffles past him out of the bar knocking into his shoulder gently with a frazzled apology, but yet he still remains frigid in his stance, unmoving.

You speak again, despite the inability to breathe now clogging the words up in your throat.

“If anybody was going to survive the end of the world, it’d be you.” You confirm with a flabbergasted smirk at him.

Your words seems so feeble and juvenile in this monumental moment.

“Only just,” he replies now, summoning the courage to speak back to you, but from where he doesn’t know. He feels like his voice is no longer his own, floating out of him like crumpled, Mylar balloons losing their helium as they sag to the floor.

“Y’were with the group?” He asks in a slow daze.

“Yeah." You nod like you have no control over it.

He nods quickly too. His heart is racing, a blend of nostalgia and anticipation that makes Joel feel sick to his gut.

His chest tightens again as the memories of you come flooding to the front of his mind, blasting out of the locked boxes he'd kept you safe inside; blinding him and deafening him for a few moments.

"This is… I can't believe you're alive." You whisper. "I thought maybe you might've-"

“No.” Joel grumbles. And it pains him everyday that he's still here and refusing to die, the stubborn fuck. "I thought... you-"

"No." You smile weakly. Evidently you're just as stubborn as he remembers too.

He shakes the coffee off his fingers and wipes them on the hem of his plaid shirt. You don’t see that they’re trembling, and he’s cursing inwardly for them to stop.

"Fuck, h-how are you?” You ask him, knowing it’s probably a stupid question of epic proportions.

How's the apocalypse been treating you, Joel?

Oh, just dandy darlin', n' you?

But words fail you and you’re running on some strange autopilot as your brain tries to catch up with what you’re seeing and process it.

It’s failing miserably.

His once sharp features are now a ghost on his face; his head is lowered a little with his neck shrinking into his collar. He seems shorter somehow, if such a thing were possible.

A muscle somewhere inside of your heart snaps.

“Urm,” Joel states to the ground, suddenly very emotionally constipated. Maybe more so than you remember. “Uh, I need to-” He throws his thumb over his shoulder and turns away instantly.

“Yeah… sure,” you nod as he abruptly leaves and takes your remaining breath with him.

There's nothing you can do but stand there, rooted to the spot as you watch him leave. A barrage of millions of unanswered questions batter you and pulverise your bones into dust.

Joel Fucking Miller, here. Of all places in what is left of this tiny, perfidious world.

You instantly think that Joel Miller must shit out Lucky Charms. That son of a bitch made it, but you’re not surprised. He was always strong where you were weak.

The world had already come to an end when Joel had disappeared out of your life, and seeing him now reminds you of that devastation, that loss. All over again.

And it seems worse than the bloodshed somehow. Worse than the constant fighting for survival. Worse than the hunger ravaging you for days on end.

Reminds you, starkly, that you never really got over the pain of it. Never really got over him.

And it's a sucker punch to your jaw that leaves a nasty contusion blooming on it now, with purple spidery veins, as you can only watch him walk away. Rooted to the spot on which you stand with your gut slowly falling out of you.

It reminds you that you'd mourned for him in the early days, convinced he hadn't made it. Then wondering if he had and if he was mourning for you somewhere in that short burst of delusion when all hope seems lost as you're on the brink of checking out.

Convincing yourself that he was searching the world over for you and you had to continue on, for him. To find him again. But of course, when you think about it, he was an after thought through the death and destruction.

And that makes you feel guilty somehow as you look at the back of his head shrinking further away.

A faint reflection in the dusty mirror of your cortex holding onto life, that had faded significantly and was replaced with thoughts that didn't expose their length or colour, other than to focus on the immediate tasks at hand.

Like, not dying.

But now, he glimmers; he burns through the membranes and sinew and blinds your eyes with the sight of him before you. He's killing you all over again.

Suddenly, the last twenty-odd years seem worth it somehow. Even if the thought is razor-wired around the ludicrous.

You watch him go, hauling his tired and heavy bones along with him, somewhat bemused, somewhat bereft. A slight limp now to his once bold strut when you knew him back in a time where the world was still just as fucked up, only differently.

The uninvited memories of him you thought you had buried, rise from their graves; marauders with rotting flesh coming to get you.

They seep back into full technicolour and booming surround sound for you to relive and experience the resentment, the bitterness, and the full elation all over again.

Joel's alive. You're alive.

And in some unexplainable, sadistic twist of fate, you're both here, thrust together into a world where the pieces of your souls, that were once laid bare and entwined tightly together in an unflinching knot, now lay at your feet in tattered shreds.

Fuck.

To be continued...

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kentopedia · 6 months

Text

it's been decades since you've last seen dazai; your lover & your maker. now that you're finally happy, he's haunting you again with a thousand buried memories.

overall contents. fem!reader, nsfw minors dni, exes to lover, gothic romance, blood drinking, vampire!reader, vampire!dazai, smut, cheating reader, complicated relationships, blood, gore, jealousy, manipulation, religious symbolism, betrayal, reunions — currently at 21k words

PART II ♰ MASTERLIST

For the weeks that followed, Dazai kept his distance, though it didn’t matter where he strayed—you could always feel him nearby. His company was overwhelming, conspicuous, and watchful. He crept behind you when you were in public and remained your shadow until you arrived back home.

Even in the moments that you were in the arms of another, Dazai’s presence remained with you like a malady you couldn’t shake. Within your very home, he lingered, his features behind your eyelids, his voice imbued in the melody of the neighbor’s overwhelmingly loud piano playing.

Dazai may have disappeared from your view, but he was never really gone. It was a theme that continued to plague your undead lifetime.

Although you rejected the musings of your irrational heart, it became clear to you that your feelings for Dazai had been buried instead of erased, pushed away to protect yourself from the wounds that he had given you.

A singular heartstring had pulled the minute you’d seen the dark-haired man again, and it had reached out, wrapped itself around him, tugged tight until it was drawing you nearer and nearer, desperate to be back with the person that controlled it like a marionette.

It was terrifying, really, to consider that years apart couldn’t diminish the lustful desperation you felt for the older vampire. A need that resembled worship, a desire to be close to the beautiful god that had created you.

Though you rejected it, hated Dazai with every logical fiber within your mind, a bout of guilt still grew within you. The bleak future ahead of you had suddenly brightened with Atsushi’s overwhelming warmth, and the revolting, otherworldly bond you’d once shared with Dazai threatened to steal all of the gentleness away from your existence.

Atsushi’s love was the kind you’d always wanted. It was without stipulations, wholesome, and sickeningly sweet. He gave you everything, and in return, you offered up only the parts of yourself that had stopped belonging to Dazai.

Since the dark-haired man had infiltrated your city, the newspaper headlines had been splashed with visceral depictions of death, gruesome scenes that would make any human’s stomach curl.

Atsushi showed them to you each day, relaying the formulated opinions of the other detectives he worked with. Though they were just as keen as Atsushi about the world of blood-sucking monsters, they seemed more willing to ignore the signs of a new vampire, certain that they’d already snuffed them all out.

When the seventh body had been drained of blood, the signs of a vampire finally recognizable, he asked the question you knew he’d been avoiding.

“Do you know anything about this?”

You looked up from the coffee that he stirred, the newspaper crunching in his other fist. It was dawn—late enough for you to be ready for sleep, and early enough for Atsushi to want just the same. Orange light began in the distance. You would have to retreat to your bedroom soon.

“About what?”

Your fiancé’s features pinched, but he remained patient with you. Always so gentle, never one to be quick to anger. He was different from Dazai—he was kind. That, at least, was a comfort you could hold onto.

Atsushi set the newspaper down, rustling through his drawers before pulling out a dossier of reports that he’d brought home from the agency. There were detailed descriptions of the murders; some had been ferociously torn apart, as if mauled by a wild animal, their organs exposed to oxygen. Some had been tossed into the river, left to decompose, their bodies gray and withered. Others laid naked, pale, and drained of their blood completely, large gashes in their major arteries.

Any rational person would guess that these were the work of separate individuals. There was nothing to link them together, no pattern that would signify that a killer ran rampant on the city.

“You know what I mean.”

You blinked, eyes shifting from the newspaper, back to his purple eyes. Though you tried to spill the truth from your lips, your mouth ran dry, resisting any incrimination of Dazai.

I know who it is, but he’s dangerous, Atsushi. Please stay out of this.

The truth didn’t come.

“If you’re insinuating it’s a vampire, I don’t know who it could be.”

Atsushi’s eyes narrowed, hardly noticeable, searching for any sort of lie. When he was unable to detect one, he exhaled, visibly relaxing.

“That’s good. Everyone said it wasn't a vampire, but I thought...” Atsushi trailed off, as if calming himself, and he was so distant that he didn’t notice your shoulders relax. “Well, it doesn't meatter what I think. This means we can handle it.”

Your smile was weak when he leaned down to kiss you on the forehead, still shaken by the macabre scenes he’d encountered recently. They affected him more than he let on—you could see the way his hands shook, his fitful rests at night.

Atsushi would try to stay upright for the sake of the agency and his duty to the public, though at what cost, you couldn’t be certain. He had seen his fair share of horrors, but it hadn’t been until Dazai had come to town that they’d turned so incredibly gory.

You had no idea what he would do if he found out that you’d once been the same way. That you’d created those same images with Dazai at your side, feeling no shame when you massacred villages just to see a smile on on the older vampire's face.

Sick with remorse, you cleared your thoughts, trying to forget how sweet the blood had tasted, how addicting being in love with Dazai had once been. It was a life you were glad to be rid of, even if you could never let yourself forget it.

“Are you being careful, Atsushi?” you asked, nervously twirling the edges of your skirt.

Briefly, you wondered if you were protecting Dazai or yourself.

In was no surprise, you wanted to keep the agency from calling in vampire hunters. They’d recognize what you pretended so hard not to be, and all your plans with Atsushi would be erased if others caught wind of what you were.

But when Atsushi smiled at you, so gently and completely without the darkness that had consumed Dazai, you knew that all of your precautions were also to keep him safe.

“I’m always careful, love. Don’t worry.” He adjusted his tie and then squeezed your hand once more, leaving you finally to rest. Though, even as the sun rose high in the sky, you remained wide awake, tinged with worry and fear that Dazai would change his mind.

Two days passed without incident. The papers didn’t reveal any more shocking murders, and Atsushi got a day off after working more hours than any living person should.

He’d been staying up late with no one to keep him company but you. When he couldn’t fall asleep, you sat on his lap, peppering his face with kisses, sinking to your knees until you’d relaxed him completely. Although, as much as you tried to help, your methods could only do so much to ease his mind.

Atsushi came home early on the second day without a murder, his eyes puffy and dark with exhaustion.

“Atsushi—” you began, displeased by how exhausted he’d become.

He ignored your rebuttals and tried to weasel his arms around you, pressing gentle kisses up your neck. “We can go out when the sun goes down,” he said, biting a mark just under your ear, the smile soft on your skin. “I’ve got the day off tomorrow.”

You laughed, running your fingers through his thick hair, lifeless heart beating at a thought of a night out with him. Though, when he rested his weight on your own, head drooping onto your shoulder like a child, you knew it wouldn’t be today. “You need a good night’s rest, Atsushi. You’re exhausted.”

“No, I’m fine,” he said, but his dramatic yawn was a better response then words.

“Another night, honey.” you kissed his cheek. “Promise?”

Atsushi frowned, somehow upset with himself for not being up for a night out in the city. Even though you hadn’t gotten much time together recently, Atsushi wasn’t to blame. The agency had been working overtime on these murder cases, and that included him. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” you said, squeezing his hand. “I’d much rather wait until you’re up for it, and…” trailing off, you licked your lips, unable to focus on his curious expression. “I’m sorry we can’t go out like a normal couple.”

Atsushi’s feature shifted, melting into the usual pool of tenderness. His shoulders relaxed. “You know I don’t mind. I love you, my darling.”

He hugged you tighter, and when you stiffened at the sweet name that Dazai had always used for you, Atsushi didn’t notice.

He’d never called my darling before. It felt wrong coming from his lips—the wrong pitch, inflection. It didn’t have the same mocking pull to each syllable, didn't feel like the rush that cam with Dazai's lips.

“I’ve been working so much,” Atsushi continued, unbeknownst to your inner conflict. “We haven’t gotten to see much of each other recently.”

While you hesitated, you recovered smoothly, and pulled back to face him completely once more. “You’re saving the city. I can never be mad at you for that.”

Atsushi smiled, tired and beaten down, before brushing his bangs out of his face. Finally, he accepted his own inability to remain standing, and began to retreat back to the bedroom, letting go of your skin centimeter by centimeter. “I’m sure I’ll be fast asleep when you get back.”

You laughed. “Good night, Atsushi.”

Then, he was gone, and you were left with your oldest friend, the one that sent you a greeting in the dark night sky like a beacon. It was a full moon tonight, cold, and white.

Once, you’d loved the evenings, the calm serenity that came with the blackness of night. Now, all you longed for was the sun, even if the rays burnt your skin to a crisp. It seemed more alluring than the thought of a future with no definitive end.

Despite your hunger, you waited in the apartment for the night to fall completely. Even though you’d spent the entire day by yourself, you had no desire to be around great crowds of people, stumbling around in search of a last-minute meal.

You meandered around your home, vampiric hearing attuned to the tossing and turning that Atsushi did in his sleep. While he made soft noises of displeasure, he didn’t seem to be having nightmares—the only good sign that you could see.

All the books on your shelf were unappealing. The newspapers had been read from front to back already. Atsushi was exhausted, so you couldn’t make any noise, and every inch of the apartment was already clean.

Finally, you grew bored enough to leave, and you sighed as you felt the crisp air, dispelling your existential thoughts. There was still a hope in your future, as long as Atsushi was around. You would no longer have to dread the fear that came with a meaningless immortality.

The night was quiet, even for the city. People had retired earlier than usual, perhaps out of the fear that they’d be the next victims of the murders that rampaged.

You crossed the street, noticing that people kept an unusual distance from strangers, eyeing each person they didn’t recognize like they would stab them in the back. It was an unpleasant sight to witness.

The destination was sharp in your mind as you headed towards the pub at the edge of town, walking without thinking, despite only having been there once. It was in a seedy part of the city, run-down and cheap, but it was full of the kind of people no one would miss.

It was the kind of place a vampire would be certain to frequent.

For the past few days, as Atsushi worked late, you’d scoped out the location, staring through the window into the man you’d been certain would be loitering there. His long, dark coat dragged across the stools; beautiful features schooled into a charming expression.

Every night, he sat with strangers, but none of them had been victims in the paper. They were drunkards, prostitutes, gamblers, addicts—but they remained alive, even with Dazai in their midst. He’d evaded you, time and time again. Even as you watched with a close eye, Dazai killed right under your nose.

For the eighth night in a row, Dazai was there, indulging another man in conversation. You shifted from heel to heel, staring through the foggy window as Dazai lent an ear with attuned focus. You knew he was hardly listening. His nods were practiced, his responses vague, with only a hint of interest in his tone.

You moved your focus to the other customers, though there was no one noteworthy. A few deadbeat fathers, some women searching for their next client. A teenage boy had snuck in with a few older ones, sitting in the corner smoking frivolously. It was all quite boring, really.

There was a pianist there tonight—a pretty young women with dark hair cascading down her back, cleavage spilling out the front of her cream colored dress. She had her eye on Dazai across the room, two deep brown irises blinking at him from under long lashes.

A twinge of fury pinched at you, one that you subdued, hating the unconscious reaction of your body, the way your heart squeezed from the memory of possessiveness. Women looked at him everywhere he went, and he had never tried to avoid their lingering eyes, even when his flirtatious nature bothered you.

He’d always loved to make you jealous.

Now, though, he wasn’t your problem. Who he did or didn’t pay attention to wasn’t something you were to be concerned about. He could fuck whoever he wanted, pay them if he needed, and it shouldn’t leave a bitter taste in your mouth.

You snuck in through the front door, swallowing down that unreasonable emotion and stayed small in the shadows. The man that had been chatting to Dazai left, and you took his place, tapping your nails against the counter.

It was obvious he’d been expecting you. Dazai’s gaze was already on you, his dark smile curling onto his lips. “I was wondering when you’d be brave enough to come in.”

You sat still, staring ahead at the array of liquor, as if mesmerized by the different bottles. “I didn’t think you’d noticed me,” you replied, even though you’d been counting on it.

All you wanted was for Dazai to finally explain his true intentions, instead of lingering in your city with no explanation and a wake of bodies behind him.

Dazai choked out a laugh, setting his palm on his thighs. “You didn’t think I’d notice?” he asked, his eyes wide and innocent. “I was certain this was all a ploy to get my attention.”

You said nothing, shifting in your chair as Dazai’s smile widened, blood red and dripping.

“Well, you have it now, darling,” he said, gesturing towards you, eyes scanning your body. “If that’s not what you wanted, you must take me for a fool.”

You blinked, and when you turned to face him, Dazai was impossibly close, his knees just brushing yours. “What do you mean?”

“Well, for one, you’ve been spying on me. Two, your fiancée is a detective.” Dazai tapped his nails, the sound irritating and repetitive. “And, three: you want me gone.” He hummed, tracing the edges of the counter, his finger slender and pale. “All signs are pointing to the same thing. You’ve come here to bargain.”

You stared, anger pooling within you until you suddenly remembered how poorly this meeting could end for you. He was much too close, too dangerous to be around; you struggled to contain your bloodlust around him. Dazai’s very presence was a catalyst for your most primal desire, and every second with him just made that more evident.

Meeting with him was a mistake. You needed to leave. “Dazai,” you cleared your throat, placing your hands back on your lap. “I’ve known it was you, all this time, and I never said anything.”

Predictably, that had brightened his mood. “Really?” he said, curious. A part of you preened at being able to shock Dazai. “Now why wouldn’t you?”

You shrugged, grateful that he, at the very least, was curious. “I want you gone without any chaos. I want you out of my life, and I don’t want you to cause a scene.”

The bar was smoky, crowded, and the undeniable stench of sweat and odor overwhelmed your senses. Someone in the corner had vomited. A couple was fucking mere feet away from you, clearly intoxicated, and you balked, disgusted, wondering how Dazai could stand to be in such filth.

“I won’t put myself at risk, and I won’t let you hurt Atsushi.” You held his gaze, your eyes hard, unblinking. "So I won't tell anyone."

Dazai stared back, thoughtful, like these were the last words he expected from you, that your ultimatum was completely out of the blue. “You’re willing to let innocent people die just to keep me away from your fiancée?” He leaned forward, intruding your space, and traced the back of your palm. “Interesting.”

“There’s nothing interesting about it. I’ve learned that I can’t stop you from doing what you want.” You sniffed. “I know better. Even if I told you that I wanted you to stop killing those people, you wouldn’t.”

“I’d do anything for you. You just never asked.”

“Please,” a scoff left your lips. “Spare me that kind of disappointment.”

He hummed, though it was neither a confirmation nor denial, his innocence feigned. “So that’s all you came here for, then? To threaten me into bending to your will?”

“It’s hardly a threat, Dazai. What have I got to threaten you with?” you shook your head, laughing darkly. “If you care about me at all, you’ll leave me alone. I’ll spend the rest of eternity running from you if that’s what it takes.”

“No need for such dramatics. I told you: I’ll leave once I’m certain that you’re happy here.” He looked away from you then, focusing entirely on the actions of the bartender before him. Dazai seemed as if he knew a secret, held it all to his chest with pride. “I’m not yet convinced.”

That was the kind of self-assuredness you’d expected, though it would always elicit an aghast inhale from your lips. “I’m getting married—”

“To a man who will never fully understand you.”

“I love him. That matters to me more than whatever connection you think we still have.”

One of Dazai’s dark eyebrows lifted, barely noticeable. “I won’t leave.”

“Dazai—”

“But,” he held up a finger, ceasing your arguments, “I’ll cover my tracks better. Will that satisfy you?”

Your chest lifted, then fell, and you cleared yourself of any hostility. This was the best you were going to get out of Dazai, and you knew it. “Fine.” The stool screeched as you began to climb out of it. “Then if we’re both in agreement, I think—”

You were unable to finish your sentence, the words falling from your lips as the sharp smell of blood hit you. It was almost immediate, overwhelming, and inebriating. Hunger reacted before your intelligent mind could, the baser of your instincts overpowering logic.

“Shit,” the bartender muttered as a bottle shattered, quieting the room. When you turned, a deep gash had run down on his arm, a vein split open while a dangerous amount of blood poured out. It was dark red, picturesque, staining him so beautifully with an almost smoky tint to it.

The woman who had been carrying drinks rushed over to help him, but your eyes were glued to the wound, two pointy canines slipping over your bottom teeth. Your mind quieted, nothing circulating there but the memory of the euphoric taste of warm blood, so heavenly when it came from creatures more sophisticated than rodents.

It wouldn’t matter if people saw. They were all too drunk to notice anyway. You could pretend to help him, lead him back to the alley, and then—

A hand was heavy on your wrist, pinning you down to the countertop as the world moved slower and slower around you. Then, a tug, sharp as you collapsed into Dazai, your head falling against his shoulder, far too close to the deep purple vein that strained against his neck. You licked his skin, unable to help yourself.

Dazai laughed, theatrically, patting you on the head as he stood with you still in his grasp. “You’ve had far too much to drink, my darling,” he said to no one in particular. “We should get home.”

He led you to the door, and you stumbled over your feet, keeping a hand over your mouth until the hunger subsided, until you could no longer smell the coppery scent of blood. No one batted an eye, even looked your way, unconcerned by the fact that you hadn’t seemed drunk before, nor had you ordered a drink in the first place.

The alley was empty, and the crisp night air slapped you on the cheek, bringing you back into consciousness as you shoved yourself away from Dazai, putting distance between you. You couldn’t risk latching onto his vein, and though depriving yourself of him was proving to be a difficult task, you wouldn’t let yourself stoop to such unfathomable depths again.

Silence was thick between you; Dazai didn’t speak until you had composed yourself. Your teeth slipped back into a normal position and your eyes were no longer luminescent. It was enough for you to get a solid grip on your bearings once more.

“Are we going to continue to pretend like there’s nothing wrong?” Dazai asked from behind you, his presence nothing more than a pestering fly. “You should have more control than that—”

Another minute of silence lapsed. You considered ignoring him completely.

“Now you see why I need you gone, Dazai,” you said sharply, whirling around to advance upon him. He was closer than you anticipated, and your finger dug into the center of his chest, pointed and sharp. “I can’t…” It was humiliating, really, to admit it. “I can’t control myself around you.”

His eyes flashed. First, of mockery. Then, the dark irises melted into honey, and he was sympathetic, loving. “I’ve got nothing to do with it,” he frowned, too caring, too willing to curl himself around you in a safety net. “We’re not meant to live off the blood of rats.”

You snarled, tried to push him away, but he was too strong. His hands were gentle when they grabbed your wrists, stopping you from any further assault.

“I was just fine until you came back,” you said, sniffing. "You made me into what I am, and you use that power against me."

“You weren’t fine, and we both know it.” Dazai spoke as if he knew of your life before he returned to the city. If only he’d seen how free you were without him—how much more relaxed a world without him had become. “I can help you.” His hand drifted up your arm, a thumb tracing your chin. “I want to help you.”

Drawing back, you placed enough distance between you that you could recover from his steely expression. “I’m trying to be a good person.”

“You’re not a person anymore,” he replied, almost amused. Though he didn’t touch you, you knew he longed to. Even when you told yourself that he was a terrible monster, you knew the depth of his emotions. He had once loved you with a passion you’d never known humans to be capable of. Perhaps, he still did. “You’re dead. You’re a vampire.”

“I don’t want to be. I don’t want to be like you.” The words weren’t meant to be cruel. They were factual, unfiltered, and true. There would never be a world in which you wanted to be like him, even if there had been one that you were.

His eyes were cold. “You were worse than me once. I remember it well.” He smiled, and it turned unkind, the same expression that had always confused you. How he could go from the passionate, loving man into a sadistic devil would never be something you understood. “You enjoyed it, and I loved you for it.”

“That’s the worst part of it, Osamu,” you said his name like it was poison on your tongue; it almost hurt for it to cross your lips. It had been a prayer before. Two syllables you’d vowed to never say in vain. “I shouldn’t have to become a monster for you to care.”

A cumulation of emotions crossed Dazai’s face, like he was auditioning for a role, trying to decide which expression fit best. Finally, he settled back on a neutral countenance, his jaw set, dark eyes hiding everything he refused to say. “Don’t blame this on me. I never forced you into anything. You wanted this. I’m not the one who turned you into a monster; you did that yourself.”

The silence crept up on you once more, so darkly familiar. Around you were nothing but shadows, the home you’d begun to know more than the one you’d been born into. There were so many things you’d missed out on because of the allure of Dazai’s charming smile. You’d lost people—you’d killed people—all for him.

Every time he flashed his grin at you, the one that had brought you to him in the first place, you forced yourself to remember that you’d never gained anything but pain and tragedy by being in love with Osamu Dazai.

“It seems we’ll never agree on that point.” You turned away from him, facing the dimly lit streets, the sound of carriages reverberating down the alley. A horse forced a breath of air through its nose, and you wondered if maybe, draining such a large animal would finally be enough to satiate the hunger that hadn’t left you in years. “I’ve no desire to argue it any further.”

“You never do,” Dazai said, and though your back was turned, you knew he was taunting you, his expression dark with satisfaction. “Running away is so much easier.”

You clenched your teeth, scraping the back molars together so tightly they were sure to chip. Once more, you thought of the home you had to go back to, the bed with your fiancée, the light that would threaten you in just a few hours. It was better than this—it was better than the life that Dazai had once shown you, and you’d created it all on your own.

“Good night, Osamu,” you said, walking back into the shadows, and despite your malignant thoughts, it was almost impossible to ignore just how badly you wanted to sink your teeth into him.

His response was lost to the wind as you began your journey back home, across the city, through the destitute neighborhoods, with the kinds of people that could disappear. No one would bat an eye if they were gone.

Starved and with a weakened spirit, you considered how easy it would be to end the miserable life of the drunk homeless man who was passed out on the street. How, perhaps, draining an opium idled prostitute would be doing her a favor.

The moment passed quickly. Atsushi’s kind eyes always brought you back. How horrified they would turn if you crawled into bed that night with the blood of a human as a stain for your lips. It would be so opposite to the way that Dazai would react. He’d be too disgustingly pleased by your fall from grace.

Instead, you settled on a dog, its eyes far too innocent for your demonic instincts. Somehow, it felt worse than killing a human. It had never done a thing to deserve such a life of suffering.

The blood did little to appease you. Miserable, and still hungry, you headed back, feeling no better than before. Atsushi would be long asleep by now, deep in a dream after so many days of exhaustion, and you would be alone with nothing but old memories and the question of what would happen in the future.

Your neighbors were shouting when you walked up to the house. The dark-haired woman waved a hand dramatically as she shoved her husband onto the street. It was nothing you hadn’t seen before. They would argue, he would leave, probably get drunk, sleep with another woman, and come traipsing back home like they’d never fought at all.

She’d accept him, of course, because she loved him. She always would; and somewhere, in his lousy heart, he loved her too. It was a miserable tragedy. You didn’t know her well, but you were certain any woman deserved better than that swine of a husband.

When she met your eye, you smiled sympathetically, hoping your face wasn’t covered in the dark fur of the hound, your teeth smeared with iron. Despite your kindness, she only scowled back, slammed the door on the fool of a man, and crept back into her home.

As you let yourself into your own apartment, you realized how thankful you were that none of your neighbors were observant—they were all too distracted by their own troubles to care about yours. Never once had you seen any of them outside of sundown, but they didn't seem to care. Perhaps, your odd lifestyle wasn’t as suspicious to strangers as you thought.

You supposed that it made sense, even if it seemed too difficult to comprehend. Back when you'd met Dazai, you’d never guessed that there had been anything off about him.

A frustrated exhale left you, and you shook off your thoughts. It didn’t matter, so long as they didn’t cause you trouble.

Upon entering the apartment, your bloodlust doubled, hunger back in full force at the scent of Atsushi’s comforting aroma. He smelled almost as good as Dazai; the blood was saccharine, such a perfect blend of everything that Atsushi was.

You could ignore the scent—usually. There was always something to outweigh it. Atsushi burned candles, left out garlic. He jarred the strongest spices and set them in every room. When you were really desperate, he let animals rot on the porch, hoping the disturbingly strong smell of death was enough to distract you.

It almost always was.

As you latched the door to your bedroom, undressed, you realized you had none of those things to protect you now. The memory of the bar remained at the forefront of your mind. The bartender’s large cut, Dazai’s vein just inches away from your neck, the ache in your body that would never be appeased by an unconventional diet.

It was painfully hard to resist. You couldn’t take your eyes off Atsushi’s peaceful form, his eyelids fluttering softly, light eyelashes fanning against his cheeks. Under the blankets, you could hear the steady thrum of his heartbeat, reliable, unyielding, pumping him full of the very life you were someday going to take away from him.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you tried to recover your composure, remind yourself that this was Atsushi. You couldn’t take advantage of him, and you wouldn’t, but somehow, you’d climbed into the bed.

You were on top of him, your legs on either side of his waist, a position that was familiar, but not like this. He shifted, grumbling in his sleep, and though the alarms were ringing in your head, your fangs were borne, and you bent down over his neck.

You were so hungry. Just a taste, that would be all. It would be enough to fulfill your desire for human blood, and you’d go back to being the perfect saint, the one you’d sworn yourself to becoming.

A hand was on your hips when you kissed his neck, tight and confused. “Honey?” Atsushi’s voice brought you back to reality, raspy with sleep. “What are you doing?”

For a moment, red-hot anger swirled through you before you realized that you were grateful for his interruption, and you’d almost done something you’d regret immensely. The irritation was gone, and you were sick, horrified, flying off of Atsushi before he could say another word.

“I’m sorry—” you said, choking on your words as you cowered in the corner of the room, biting down on your fist. Blood flooded your lips, but it tasted stale, like dead animals that had marinated and rotted in a muggy summer sun. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...” you trailed off, looking away from him, the thrum of his heart too distracting. “I’m sorry.”

Atsushi was quiet, breathing steadily, in and out like an anthem. Then, he padded over, feet soft against the floor. Close enough to touch you, but never quite getting there. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” you shrieked, recoiling, putting enough distance between you that you couldn’t reach him. “Don’t come any closer.”

He didn’t move, though you knew he wanted to, and the wheels in his mind spun desperately for a solution, looking towards the higher beings that he still believed in. “I want to help you.”

“You shouldn’t. You shouldn’t want that at all.” It struck you, then, that you’d been ignoring the gravity of the situation. The fact that at any moment, you could lose the thin thread of control that you’d never really grasped at all. “I’m a vampire. I’m a monster.”

“You’re not,” Atsushi argued, his voice so incredibly soft, even though he’d never known the true horrors you’d committed, your violent acts that had destroyed cities and ruined families.

His foot moved closer, and you bared your fangs, menacingly, as if to show him that another step could put his life in danger. Though, he was unfazed, not a single muscle in his features twitching. “Tell me what I can do.”

“Get away, Atsushi.” You were pleading with him now, eyes sad as you covered your mouth once again. Perhaps this was a mistake. You never should’ve let yourself fall in love with him. He deserved so much better than the eternal pain that you succumbed to. He wouldn’t survive a life as a vampire if it depleted his humanity. “Please.”

“If you need,” he said, pulling down the collar of his shirt, ignoring your cries with a frown. “You can—”

“No!” you shouted, much louder than you meant, and Atsushi stumbled back, for once, startled by your outburst. “I’ll kill you. I—” You stopped, swallowed. There was so little you’d told Atsushi about your past, your past with Dazai, that it seemed shameful to admit it now. “I won’t be able to control myself. I’ve never been able to stop once I start drinking from a human.”

Atsushi blinked, his mouth forming words that almost didn’t come out. You’d never told him that before. It made you seem much more dangerous, the reality of what you were more obvious than ever. “You killed someone every time?”

“No.” You couldn’t look at his blank eyes, unsure if he was curious or filled with contempt. Perhaps it was a mixture of both. “I was with another vampire. He stopped me when I went too far. Most of the time.”

“But… you did kill?” Atsushi asked, uncaring about the elusive figure from your past. Someday, you’d tell him everything. It just wouldn’t be now.

You sighed, your gaze hard on the bouquet of roses beside the bed, a few of them already wilting. Something about the vision was incredibly foreboding, like your rampant thoughts about Dazai would continue to lead to deplorable actions, just as one beautiful rose would die after the other, until your relationship with Atsushi was strained and fragmented.

“You know I did, Atsushi.”

The silence was sharp, unbearable. You longed to hear any sound other than his shallow breaths and aching heartbeat. “It’s hard to imagine you that way.”

You met his eyes once more. They were naively kind, like any fearsome action you’d committed could be forgiven because your heart had been cleansed, scrubbed raw of all your previous sins. “Perhaps, but that’s how I was.” You smiled sadly, twisting a finger in your hair. “There’s still a chance for you to run away from me.”

Atsushi shook his head, his eyes wrinkled in the corners, the moonlight glinting off his bright pupils. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m foolishly in love with you and I can’t help it.” Despite yourself, you melted, the hunger overpowered by a pure love for the kind soul before you. “I’ll sleep in the other room for tonight.”

“Atsushi—”

You protested, but Atsushi leaned forward, kissing you deeply, with finality. “No, you need this room,” he said, pulling away before your body could even comprehend his proximity. “I can’t ask you to be around me if you’re suffering.”

“I’ll be okay,” you promised, eyes despondent as you watched him retreat into the living room.

Though when he turned around, hand lingering on the doorknob, you both knew that that wasn’t true.

You didn’t sleep for the rest of the day, and locked in a room with no light, there was nothing for you to do but watch the single beam of sun flick under the door. Bright yellow rays taunted you, and you missed the heat with every fiber of your being, like a friend you would never reconnect with again.

Staring, eyes empty and hollow, you rested against the pillow and resolved yourself to a decision that could prove to be a mistake. You had no other choice but to find other ways of satisfying your hunger, and while it certainly wasn’t optimal, you reminded yourself that your future husband was the most important person in your life. If this would save Atsushi from your malevolent impulses, you would gladly go back to the devil and sell your soul another time.

Atsushi came home that evening at the same time as usual, just as tired, but not without a gentle smile. He was strong, and he was kind. You hoped that even as a vampire, he wouldn’t have the same urge to kill that you always had.

That fact alone made you ache with adoration for him, the innocence that he’d always been able to keep, through every struggle that he endured and continued to face. He was a good person, and you couldn’t imagine a world where he didn’t stay that way.

Though you rarely slept through the day as normal, you often grew tired of the same routine. By the time the sun had gone, you were itching to leave the house, and kissed Atsushi briefly before rushing out the door.

You couldn’t linger close to him for long, for a starved and weary vampire was no match for a human, even one as physically capable as Atsushi.

Once you’d ejected yourself into the bustling evening, you sped through the crowd, trying not to focus on a single person’s heartbeat. If you lingered too long, you were certain it’d become too much for you, the taste already infiltrating your consciousness, the desire of another person to make themselves a part of you too.

Humans were naturally drawn to vampires, your looks otherworldly and appearance so mystifying that it was hard to resist. That made it all too easy to steal prey away, feast on them until there was nothing left but a hollowed-out corpse.

A headache had begun in your temple, the tell-tale sign of your desperation. Finally, you reached the beaten-down pub, no livelier than the previous nights, and more calmly than you felt, let yourself in through the door.

As suspected, Dazai was back at the bar, the usual glass of liquor in front of him, even if only sipped. The effects of alcohol only worked on vampires if ingested through the blood of an intoxicated human, and you couldn’t remember the last time he’d let himself indulge in that.

Dazai was alone, this time, but the pianist from the previous night still eyed him, ironically, like he was her very own prey. He was smiling softly to himself, already aware of your presence as he rolled the glass around in his slender fingers. The ice clinked against the sides, an unceasing rhythm.

Steadying yourself, you pushed away the warm smell of his blood, how deeply you craved it, the underlying affection there. Instead, you steeled yourself for conversation, stole some sort of inhale, and took a seat.

Dazai’s sharp features were on you the moment you were within his orbit, pink lips curling up with satisfaction. “I thought you didn’t want to see me,” he said, leaning towards you, his expression unguarded and curious. “This makes two nights in a row.”

You opened your mouth, then shut it, flushing with shame. To admit that you needed him was foolish and humiliating. You’d let him win at his own game, and as hard as you’d thought, you couldn’t come up with another solution.

This was for Atsushi’s sake, you reminded yourself, and you were no longer sure that the solution to your bloodlust would be remedied with Dazai’s exit from the city. Your hunger had been festering for centuries, and spending all of your time with a human had weakened you, leaving you incapable of resisting such a small drink.

If you continued on this path, you’d kill him. That was something you’d never be able to live with.

Dazai continued to watch you, tilting his head as if deciphering your thoughts as they gathered in your mind. “What’s the matter?” he asked, and you realized your panic was just as evident on your face, the sick conflict of need and disgust clashing against one another.

Your mouth was sour, tasting like whatever kind of acids lingered within you as a vampire. You forced the words out before you could regret them. “I need it, Dazai.”

Dazai blinked and was silent for a mere moment before he laughed loudly. The sound was mocking and cruel, and far too obnoxious in the miniscule space. “How ironic,” he said, leaning back on his stool. “Just yesterday, you wanted me to leave, and now you’ve come crawling back, so beautifully desperate.”

Your skin burned, and you refused to look at him, disgraced and remorseful. There were two options: leave and see if he took the bait or plead with him and risk more embarrassment. One seemed better than the other.

Standing, you took the former, hoping that Dazai was telling the truth about his affection for you. If he really cared as much for you as he once had, then maybe, he would crave the high of sharing blood. A vampire as old as him wouldn’t open his vein for just anyone.

“I still want you to leave. I just thought, perhaps, we could talk about this like we’d once been lovers instead of enemies.”

Dazai stared, knowing that you were manipulating him, but trying to decide if he cared. “What a silly thing to say,” he smiled, eyes raking over your body like it pained him to do so. “I’ve never been your enemy, sweetheart.”

Maybe not, but there seemed no other word to describe the animosity you felt for him. The stool screeched as you pushed it away from the counter, making your way to your feet. “It was a mistake to ask you this.” You held his gaze one last time, waiting for him to decipher whatever message you thought you were sending. “I’m leaving.”

He stopped you, a hand on your wrist as he licked his lips. There was a softness to his features, the hard lines of mockery bleeding into sympathy. “I’ll go with you.”

You glared for a moment longer before, finally, you shook him off and went outside. Dazai trailed behind you in the shadows like a cat, and you wondered if he’d been fated for this all along. Perhaps he’d been born only for an immortal existence; a human life was never in the cards at all.

It was a foggy night. The feet ahead of you blurred into nothingness, and Dazai stood close to you, just to be able to see your features clearly. The smell of him drove you near the brink of insanity, and without thinking, you let your fangs slip down over red lips, face falling at the acknowledgement of your aching need for him.

Dazai smiled.

“What changed your mind?” he asked, staring at you like he’d never seen you before, beautiful, and dangerous and once his.

You debated telling him. Dazai didn’t deserve your honesty, but it would be much easier to put this behind you, pretend that your reasons were entirely heroic, if you told him outright. One way or another, he would uncover the truth.

“I almost drank from Atsushi,” you said, looking at anything but his knowing brown eyes, the ones that had never been able to hide his adoration for you. “I would’ve killed him.” Your teeth were sore, and your jaw clenched with the insatiable hunger that never seemed to ease. The blood of animals was no more nutritious to you than candy was to a human. It made you feel bogged down, weary, and so much weaker than you wanted to be.

“You still don’t have any control.” Dazai’s eyebrows drew together, so tightly that his face marred into something akin to anger. It was a statement, not a question. One you were senseless enough to answer.

“No.”

“That’s why you haven’t turned him. Not because he doesn’t want to be turned, but because you know you’ll kill him.”

“Yes.” You hated being so known by Dazai, but you were liberated by it at the same time. Never once were you forced to pretend with him, and though that had sometimes been a blessing, it wouldn’t allow you to slip anything past him either.

Dazai was inches away from you in an instant, his speed otherworldly and graceful. There was a slight flush to his skin—he’d fed recently. Had he spared their life, or would another death make the headlines? “Why do you continue to punish yourself?” he asked, thumb grazing across your cheek. “Is killing so different from humans slaughtering animals?”

Disgusted, you tried to push him away, but the smell of his skin, his blood, was too appetizing to pass up. Instead, you let his hand remain on your cheek, nuzzled it even further, and frowned. “You know it is. You’ve known for centuries, and you delude yourself into thinking it’s not.”

Dazai sighed, but a weary smiled pulled onto his lips, satisfied that you’d not run away from him. “Perhaps,” he said, unbuttoning the collar of his pressed shirt, exposing the smoothness of his neck. You traced the skin, mesmerized, all at once, by his centuries of existence. “Perhaps I just don’t care.”

You swallowed, unable to remove your eyes from the vein, your hunger flourishing and expanding into something all its own. You indulged yourself in the moment of bloodlust, let yourself feel every moment of desire, so when you finally tasted his blood, it would be that much sweeter.

“But I care,” you admitted, mind hazy with need. “You’ve spoiled me, Osamu. Your blood is better than anything I’ve ever tasted.” The words were outside your lips before you could stop them, unretractable, but true, nonetheless. “Everything pales in comparison.”

He exhaled, and you were surprised to find that it was stuttered, breathless from your proximity. You rested your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes, tilting his jaw away.

“And your fiancé?” Dazai asked, kissing the thumb that rested on his chin, his voice deepening, almost dangerous. “Will his blood satisfy you when he’s all you have?”

You opened your eyes, contemplative. “I don’t know,” you answered truthfully. “How can anyone compare to the vampire that made me?”

“They can’t.” Dazai laughed, and then he tipped his head, exposing the vein completely with a hazy grin. “Drink, my sweet angel.”

It was a request that you couldn’t refuse. You were upon him, tearing at the flesh like an uncontrollable beast, inhaling the blood with the need of a starved man.

The taste of him was heavenly, otherworldly. It was a drink bestowed upon you by the devil, luring you into a life of sin with something you couldn’t resist. That’s what Dazai was, of course. He was something that you, in all of your strength, were far too tempted by.

Dazai’s fingers curled into your back as you lapped at the vein, bringing yourself closer and closer to him until you were pressed so completely against him. His body was cold and hot all at the same time, like a burn, dangerous and compelling.

Too distracted by your own hunger, you hardly registered his sharp moan, loud and distracting in the alley. “Taste so good, Osamu,” you said against his neck, barely a whisper before you dived in again, curling your sharp nails into his shoulders.

Dazai made a sound in the back of his throat, and then his hands were in your hair, rough and forceful as he pressed you closer towards the delicate skin under his jaw. You smiled, full of lust and desire and the lingering scent of his blood.

“You’re so beautiful.” His voice was faraway, hushed by the roaring of the ocean in your ears as you focused on indulging yourself completely. “I’ve missed you more than I want to admit.”

The last statement was not meant for your ears, but you heard it all the same, and you preened from the praise that came so sparingly. Fisting your hands tighter in his collar, you sunk your teeth deeper, mouth pressed against his skin delicately, a kiss more than a bite.

If anyone had walked into the pathway, it would’ve seemed like nothing more than a loving embrace, not the threat of murder, two vampiric beings caught in a dance of death within the moonlight.

You stumbled forward, trying to crawl deeper within him, but there was nowhere to go, and Dazai hit a streetlight with a quiet laugh, curling his fingers against your scalp. “You’ll make yourself sick if you keep going,” he said, but he let you carry on for another minute, until his skin had grown impossibly pale, and he staggered with light-headedness, drained and once again, starving.

“Okay.” Dazai’s blood squelched salaciously around your lips, and he finally stopped you, disappointed. “That’s enough, my love.”

Although you heard him, you were unable to pull yourself away, and the sweet liquid from his vein continued to pour into your lips.

Dazai tugged you back by the neck, sharply, ripping his skin open wide in the process. He was stronger than you—older and wiser and much more powerful, but a part of him always let you take from him. For better or worse, Osamu Dazai had never been able to deny you your simple requests. “Enough.”

“Sorry,” you said, licking the last droplets of blood from your lips, blinking into eyes that were full of affection and pride.

“Don’t apologize. I’d give you more if I could.” Dazai smiled, the blood loss weakening him just enough to look sentimental. “How do you feel now?”

Your cheeks grew hot, and you felt the effects of his blood taking hold, intoxicating, and stupefying. You’d forgotten how much it was like a drug, an addiction that you’d spent years of your life living off of.

It hadn’t been so harmful, then. Only an aphrodisiac that paired nicely with your unconditional love for him. Now, you felt that you were playing a dangerous game. You risked a lot of things by letting yourself remember him.

“Less hungry,” you admitted, frowning, unsure how you could possibly walk away from him with an appetite still rampant, if only subdued. In the years away from him, you’d undeniably weakened. It was as if now, it was catching up to you at once, your immortal body trying to compensate with proper nourishment. “Stronger.”

This wasn’t how this conversation was supposed to go. Your mind was telling you to seal your lips shut and walk away, leaving Dazai where he was without so much as an explanation. You should kill him, end him—whatever it took to live a long and happy eternity with a man who truly deserved your undying affection.

Though, when those brown eyes softened, two pools of melted chocolate, you knew why you had loved him so deeply. “I’m glad.” He was gentle as he caressed your skin, your fragile collarbone, every touch a sin.

I miss…

You ceased your thoughts, looking back at him, at the affection that mixed in with years of malice and vindictiveness. A perfect summation of every day that you’d loved him.

He’d never looked at anyone like that before, had he? Like the entire world was a blur around him except for the beautiful work of art that stood in front of him. At least, not the fleeting affairs he’d had with artists, nor the women he’d fled to when you argued over nonsense.

Had he even looked at you like that before?

With years and years of built-up hatred, it was, truly, hard to remember. So hard, in fact, that you weren’t quite sure what it was about him that you’d been missing.

“It’s near sunrise,” Dazai said, like the fact wasn’t painfully obvious. You could see the beginnings of a glow beyond the horizon. “Do you need a place to stay?”

Whether that was a caring invitation or manipulation tactic, you couldn’t be sure. What you did know was that you needed to get away from him before you did something mindless—something you wouldn’t otherwise do if you weren’t dopey from his blood.

“I’ll manage,” you choked out, grateful only when his wound closed, and you could release your inhale once again. “Don’t worry.”

He seemed hesitant, looking around like there was a creature more dangerous than you lurking in the night. “I’ll walk with you.”

“Osamu, I’m fine.” You went for a softer approach, knowing that he’d be unable to deny the subtle blink of your lashes, the seductive smile that plastered your painted lips. “Thank you.”

He nodded, smiled, and then took your hand within his own, kissing the back of it chastely, like you were courting for the first time. As if you hadn’t once had him deep inside you, hadn’t shared every ounce of blood from your vein, your life reborn from the very taste of him.

It was a moment doomed to expire once you were reminded that you had moved on. This wasn’t the person you were supposed to be anymore.

“I’ll be here tomorrow,” he said. “If you need me.”

Regretfully, you squeezed his hand, knowing that you would.

PART III

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