#THIS IS SO LONG AND YET I FEEL LIKE THERE ARE SO MANY OTHER THINGS I WANTED TO SAY AND SCREAM ABOUT

[charliemwrites]

Part 1

Finally finished this! I think I put way too much pressure on myself to get this just right and it gave me some major writer's block. Anyway, please enjoy!

Content: Wet dreams, Somnophilia (sort of), Identity Porn, Safe/Sane/Consensual Intimacy (through dreams), Uncomfortable Situation, Pushy/Predatory behavior (brief)

“Bad dreams again?”

Drowsy and sluggish, you blink at your aunt. She’s as sleek and coiffed as always, pressed business attire and shiny hair. Shoulders back, spine straight. A woman people respect and heed without question.

Your mother’s voice whispers in your ear, that lovingly patronizing tone. See how professional she looks, dear? Isn’t that nice?

It’s not Aunt Katie’s fault though. She does look professional, and it is nice. It suits her.

You unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth. “They’re not bad, really. Just… intense.”

She hums, elegant fingers tracing the edge of your borrowed desk. “They can’t be very good if they’re keeping you up.”

You’re tired enough that you almost correct her a second time. The problem is that the dreams are too good. You wake up panting, sweating, halfway to – well. You’re not about to discuss the finer points of a kinky wet dream with your CIA aunt. Besides, it’s silly to get so defensive of something that affects you seemingly negatively.

“Maybe,” you reply, rubbing at your heavy eyes. It feels like you’re trying to look through clear jelly.

“Why don’t you take a break?” Aunt Kate suggests.

You frown, a pang of guilt striking your empty tummy. “No… no, I’m okay. It’s not even lunch yet.”

She smiles at you. The same fond smile she’s always graced you with, on holidays and birthdays, whenever she could escape the secretive walls and red tape to be with family.

“You’re already ahead on paperwork. You’re not a bad employee for getting a little sun.”

Your eyes flick longingly to the door.

Apparently, the government doesn’t believe in things like windows or sunlight. Your little desk is at the very end of a long, half-empty hallway in the middle of a concrete cube and drowning in awful blue fluorescence. You can’t even bring yourself to drag a plant to this crappy little island because you’d feel too guilty putting it through this.

“Okay… maybe just for a few minutes,” you allow.

Her smile widens as she nods for you to follow. “C’mon, I’ll walk you out. I think the dogs will be free for some enrichment.”

Well, that certainly gets you out of your squeaky office chair.

Honey sunlight drizzles over your neck and shoulders, dripping syrupy-slow down your spine. It diffuses through your chest, chasing away the artificial chill of the office. The sleepy haze retreats like frost melting from glass.

You sigh into the fresh air, ignoring the tang of gunpowder lingering on the breeze, and turn your face to the sun. Summer is coming to an end, the heat broken into mellower warmth. There won’t be many days like this left before autumn bites down and shakes the leaves from the trees. A shame you’ll likely waste most of them in your administrative prison. 

The dogs stretch out in the grass around you, tongues lolling and eyes bright, keeping you company. A furry bouquet of black and tan in the manicured grass, their ears and tails like stalks to strange plants.

You bury your fingers in Zeus’s coat and get a fuzzy white tummy for your efforts. He’s a young and handsome thing, the newest addition to the K-9 unit, still a bit fluffy around the ears. You try not to think of how that will fade and harden, just like the older dogs in the unit, just like his human counterparts. Just scratch at that itchy spot by his ribs and smile when his hindleg kicks.

Friga stands and stretches on your right side, leaning her shoulder into yours. Then picks her way around the others to sniff at Zeus. Offended by her interruption, he flails onto his stomach and nips at her, one big forepaw thumping the ground.

She goads him into playtime, and you watch with the older pack members as they begin to romp. They tumble and grumble around you, heedless of bumping into any of the others. You laugh, bright and loud—

The back of your neck tingles.

You glance around, not even sure why. Until you see a figure across the field. He’s standing by the track where about two dozen men are jogging. Recruits, you guess. But he’s not observing them or barking orders. No, he’s clearly turned to face you. It’s too far to make out any features, apart from what seems to be an unusual haircut.

You quickly glance away, surreptitiously trying to determine if the man’s attention was on something else that happened to be in your direction. But there’s little else but you and the dogs in this field, the kennels noticeably off to the left.

Then again, someone sitting in the grass with half the K-9 unit is a bit unusual. He’s probably trying to decide if it’s something that needs investigation. You hope it’s not.

Still, you can’t shake the discomfiting sense that he’s looking at you.

You ignore him until it’s time for the dogs to go back - but that prickly feeling of being watched never subsides.

That night, in the guest room of your aunts’ house, the dreams take on new life.

It starts as it always does. A dark room. A lush bed. Silky sheets. Moonlight seeping through blinds like smoke. And him.

He’s behind you. A broad body so solid you’d think he was a wall if not for the heat. It’s so intense this time, like a wildfire raging out of control, crawling from his skin beneath yours. You sense more than feel the big hand around your jaw. Rough fingers clutch at the plush of your thigh. Hot breath fans across the back of your neck, rippling shivers down your spine.

There’s a voice in your ear. No words you can discern, just a thunder-deep rumble with smoky edges. Stubble scrapes the delicate skin of your neck and catches in your hair.

A thick, heavy cock is buried deep inside you, kissing the entrance to your womb. Your pussy twinges a sweet-sharp ache with each deliberate grind of his hips. He’s spreading you open to get as deep as he can, throbbing balls pressed up tight to your sopping entrance.

Your own hands are all but useless. One twists desperately in the sheets, the other clutches at the meaty swell of his ass. Pleasure upends anything like sense or thought, even hazy dream logic. There is just this man fucking you like he owns you, two of his fingers in your drooling mouth, petting your tongue. A ring clicks against your teeth.

“Found you,” he whispers.

You jolt, eyes flying open. The powder blue ceiling of your borrowed room greets you. You’ve kicked the cotton sheets into a tangled mess around your ankles, tiny shirt ridden up your chest. Your panties are soaked.

The taste of metal lingers behind your incisors.

It’s a busy day. For once, you’re free from the confines of your sad little nook. Aunt Kate must have taken pity on your sorry state the day before and has procured busy work. Files that need hand delivery, or physical reports for you to gather. You don’t care if it’s just something to get you out of the office, you relish the stolen moments outside between buildings.

If there’s a downside, it’s the glances you attract. Everything about you projects civilian, despite the access card prominently pinned to the lapel of your blazer. It draws curious once-overs at best and suspicious scans at worst – or speculative appreciation at the very worst. Every time a fresh-faced recruit or overly decorated middle-aged man lingers as you pass, you hear your mother’s voice again.

Don’t you know what those military men are like? Practically animals. I couldn’t possibly let you be exposed to them.

It’s long ingrained to keep your eyes forward, head level, and try to keep your hips from swaying as much as possible. You’re grateful for whatever bit of paperwork you can clutch to your chest, just to hide your figure and have something to do with your hands.

You’re picking up some personnel files from the infirmary, smile brightly at the receptionist as she passes them over. Mallory is only a couple years older than you, and she’s been working here a year already.

“Lunch in the mess today?” she asks, spinning a pen between her fingers.

“As if you even need to ask,” you tease. “Noon?”

“I’ll meet you there.”

She blows you a kiss as you leave, counting the number of files to be sure you have them all. Your eyes skim over one of the names, a white label on the folder fin. “MacTavish, J.” in blocky typewriter font. You shuffle them back into a neat stack and pivot for Aunt Kate’s office.

You’re not in the moonlit bedroom this time. A half-moon grins down from a starry sky, wearing smoky nebulas for lipstick. Beneath you lays cool grass and soft earth, rich and loamy in your heaving lungs. Petals blooming in the dark kiss your overheated skin, little relief for the burn in your veins.

The change in scenery is almost as dizzying as the man between your thighs. Almost.

But it’s not the dew-saturated breeze that muddles your bewildered thoughts. It’s the hot, wet, clever tongue lavishing your drenched pussy. He licks in broad stripes from your aching hole to your throbbing clit, only ever pausing to indulge a slow suck to the bundle of nerves, before resuming that hypnotic circuit.

One thigh is hooked over a wide shoulder, your heel dug into the flexing muscles of a broad back. The other is spread by a big, calloused hand, giving him unfettered access to the softest, neediest parts of you.

You mewl desperately, hand darting down to his bobbing head. Your nails scrape shorn stubble, eliciting a gravelly groan that sends electricity up your tingling spine. It’s nothing compared to the growl you earn when your fingers twist into the longer, soft strands at the top.

For the first time, you’re able to voice more than helpless moans and wanton whimpers.

“Please,” you sob softly, “please.”

You feel him smirking, a wicked curl against your fluttering cunt. Then he focuses the tip of that awful, dexterous tongue on your clit, flicking in purposeful little strokes.

M-A-

“S-so close,” you whine, hips twitching. He pins you flat, pace never faltering.

V-I-

You shudder as your pussy clenches and spasms, finally, finally—

You wake with a sharp sound, head spinning. Your orgasm washes away like the tide, leaving disappointment and exhaustion behind. You nearly scream into your pillow as you press your thighs together. Still half asleep, it even feels like you have beard-burn.

You’re in line at the mess with Mallory, listening to her complain about some rude colonel that just had to share his opinion about her acrylics. She does the best impressions, and you’re grinning and laughing as the two of you shuffle through the options. You’re reaching for a scoop of rice when the conversation behind you catches your attention.

“—came in a couple days ago.”

“The whole squad?”

“With Braveheart himself.”

A snort. “You better not let MacTavish hear you say that. He’ll—”

“Helloooo?” You blink at Mallory, who arches her brows and waves a bagel at you. “Want one?”

“Oh, uh… sure, why not,” you answer.

“Atta girl!” she cheers, tossing it in the toaster. “Carbs for days.”

You giggle but can’t help glancing behind you. The two men have already moved on though. Not that it was any of your business – or anything interesting. You’re not sure why that caught your attention. Men are just loud, you suppose, snatching a couple to-go packets of cream cheese.

As you’re leaving the mess, you happen to glance over your shoulder. A pair of sharp blue eyes catch yours from one of the tables. A group of men, just about to sit. Mallory tugs your shirt to keep you from clipping the doorjamb and you hurry after her.

There’s heat at your back. Not from a body this time, but a fire burning low and hot in a hearth. No, the body is in front of you this time, filling up your watery field of vision. Peachy skin and coarse dark hair, an old scar slashing across a sharp hip, miles of lean muscle.

Not that you have much opportunity to ogle with tears blurring your sight. The fat cock bullying the back of your throat makes it hard to do anything but choke. You dig your nails into a thick thigh and pull back, writhing your tongue along a puffy vein as you go. The leaking head rests on your drenched tongue as you catch your breath. Smoke and leather and musk saturate your lungs, cloud your empty head.

He smells so good; you don’t even like cigars.

A rough thumb caresses your cheek, a silent request for you to continue. You can practically feel the lust-drunk moans vibrating in his chest – so deep, they’re barely audible over the crackling fire.

You hiccup as deep a breath as you can manage and swallow him down again. He’s silky on your tongue, you sigh softly through your nose as the blunt head flirts with your gag reflex. You slacken your jaw despite the ache already crawling into the joint. Even then, your teeth scrape the base a bit, but that only makes him twitch against your soft palate.

“Look here, love.”

Your lashes flutter as you try to focus your gaze, scrolling your eyes up his body. Most of the details are lost either in the haze of desire or the vagary of dreams, but the blue eyes that greet you are sharper than real life.

You jolt back to consciousness with a dry cough, the scent of him still haunting your senses. You stumble to the restroom for water. Don’t even realize that you’re glancing in the mirror over your shoulder, expecting someone to be there, until you realize you’re alone.

Oddly bereft, you trudge back to bed and try to focus on the clean soap smell of your aunts’ detergent.

In moments like this, it’s hard not to blame yourself.

Not because you’ve done anything wrong, or even feel like you have. It’s because the situation is so frustratingly out of your control that it’s almost easier to tell yourself that one decision or another would have avoided this outcome. A sharper response, a frown instead of a smile, a different walking route.

(There’s also your mother’s voice, always. Saying to be smart, to pay attention, to not “put yourself” in a vulnerable position. You silence that voice viciously this time.)

Still, the fact of the matter is, there’s no personal choice you could have made to keep Corporal Callahan from cornering you in this supply closet. You just wanted a box of tissues.

“Look, I know you’re Agent Laswell’s niece, but I don’t see why we can’t go out because of it,” he reasons. As if that’s the reason you’ve been trying to gently dissuade his attempts.

“It’s not that—” you begin, shifting. He’s standing too close, but you refuse to back yourself any deeper into this tiny space. The doorway is right there, he’s just taking up all of it.

“Then just say yes,” he chuckles. His tone is all smooth and easy, meant to be charming maybe? “Just one date, that’s all I’m asking.”

Except you’re not asking, you think with helpless frustration. The sharp words get trapped behind your teeth, cutting up the roof of your mouth. Your heart is beating so hard and loud you can barely hear his “romantic” overtures.

“I’m not really…” You’re not even sure what to say this time; you’ve already told him you’re not looking to date. He’d said some vaguely predatory line about changing your mind.

In the absence of a finished statement, Callahan takes the opportunity to continue cajoling.

“C’mon,” he sing-songs, “I’m not letting you out of there until you say yes.”

You pry your jaw open, about to agree to it just for the sake of getting free. Deal with the fallout later.

There’s a rush of air and suddenly the doorway is empty. You briefly see Callahan against the opposite wall, face blank in unpleasant surprise. Then a big body blocks your view of him. Broad, bunched shoulders and thick thighs. A shock of brunet hair shaved close at the sides and long at the top. Your entire body locks up.

“You come near her again, they won’ stop findin’ pieces of ya, aye?” A growl, low and rough, Scottish accent thick. You shiver.

Callahan stutters something, a few garbled syllables through a strained and winded voice. You think you might hear “captain” in there somewhere. The bigger man shifts, you hear a muffled thump – Callahan hitting the wall again, you think. Then, with seemingly no effort, your savior tosses Callahan to the side like trash. He stumbles, catches himself.

“Away ‘n bile yer heid.”

Callahan flicks one last frightened glance your way then hurries off, proverbial tail tucked between his scrawny legs. You don’t even watch him go, eyes glued to the stranger’s muscular back. He rolls his wide shoulders, cracks his neck, and finally turns.

Familiar blue eyes pin you in place as he steps closer. The scent of cigar smoke and leather teases your nose.

A voice you’ve known for months rumbles in his chest. “Found you.”

[dollypopup]

I truly cannot overstate just how much I adore Colin Bridgerton as a male love lead, and how important his story is, in particular in a current, modern reading. We live in a time of alpha male machismo that in many ways mirrors the sexism of the historical time period Colin is in, and we have a hero who explicitly rejects it. More than that, we have a hero who first tries on the persona, first tries to fit in, and then determines, with no outside influence and all on his own, that it's wrong. That he doesn't want to be like the men of his society, that he doesn't like the expectation of sex without love and commitment and connection, that he doesn't want to be 'one of the boys', even if it comes at their derision.

Because when Violet says he has always been her most sensitive child, when he has always considered others before himself, when he has always offered a joke or a moment of levity- for so long, he felt he had to. That there was no other choice.

Colin Bridgerton, The Great Pretender, is finally coming into the light.

Take my hand. Come walk with me.

Colin's arc is incredibly clear, and incredibly dear to me. We can track his progress throughout the seasons he has been in, but if we consider his backstory, it comes even more in clarity.

Piecing together a timeline with some influence from the books and loose historical accuracy, Colin loses his father at 12 and then is sent off to Eton. And he is a tiny thing when his father passes, shorter even than his 9 year old sister, Eloise.

(Yes, I checked!! He's half a head shorter than Eloise, and an entire head shorter than Daphne. This boy is SMALL)

So it makes a lot of sense to me that this is the start of his fake-it-to-make-it personality. He cannot grieve with his family in these circumstances, he's been sent off to school with other boys who are bigger and stronger than him, and he must realize relatively quickly that weakness in their eyes will never be tolerated. In fact, Eton was well known for corporal punishment and bullying during this time. Older boys were well known to mistreat the younger once, and considering just how small and soft-hearted Colin is, and just how vulnerable he is having lost his father-

Of course Colin would become a target of such.

And despite that, we meet him in Season 1 with an endearing earnestness and hopefulness in the world. Something inside him, something sweet and gentle and warm, thrives to live. And fights against grief to do so. How easy it would have been for him to lose his father and be bitter. How easy for him to see his father die from the steps of Aubrey Hall, to be sent to a boarding school away, and withdraw in on himself.

And yet, he doesn't.

At least, not in the way one would suspect. Instead, Colin becomes a chronic people pleaser. If the people around him are happy, then he will be safe. Will not be hurt. And they have no space for his own hurt, regardless. There's hardly even any space for his mirth, as most people didn't even reply to his letters on his travels the previous season.

In Colin's confession in Season 3, he says 'I have spent so long trying to feel less', and this numbing begins early in his life. He's a consummate gentleman in Season 1. He does everything by the book, everything as he should. He wants to be accepted in his society, wants to be taken seriously, wants to belong. So he sees a pretty woman, and he gets along with her well enough, and he courts her. Openly, honestly, in full view. It isn't a heart-stopping love, but he has numbed himself for years at this point, so affection will do, and if proper men of his society are married, well, maybe he'd finally be taken seriously.

And yet, no one notices him, even still. No one except Penelope. His own mother doesn't recognize his behavior, and worries for him after she does. How long has it been since she's actually seen him? We know from the show that he's incredibly close to his mother, and loves her dearly, but we also know that after Edmund's passing, Violet was mired in grief and post-partum depression. Colin misses much of this as a firsthand witness since he's at school, but that doesn't mean he wouldn't be able to tell, wouldn't be affected by losing his mother and father in one fell swoop. In fact, Colin loses his connection to the majority of his family in being sent to school so soon after the tragedy. So of course he comes back and he tries not to make waves. Tries to do things correctly.

His friction with Anthony proves time and time again that nothing he does is entirely ever able to fully please him, and this causes contention in their brotherly bond. Of all the siblings, Anthony is arguably the most harsh with Colin. And he is also the model for who a man should be in the family, as the head of the family.

So when Anthony sees Colin earnestly try to marry, he scoffs him off. Accuses Colin of only wanting to marry to have sex, and then claiming "It is my fault. I should have taken you to brothels." This is the first on-screen shaming of Colin looking for connection before sex, and Colin doubles down. He wants to marry for love.

But he doesn't actually love Marina. Neither of them truly know each other, and so when it all blows up, and he is humiliated to the entirety of his community, Colin gets his first taste of romantic failure. He tried to do it right, and it ended more wrong than he could have ever imagined. So, maybe Anthony was right. Maybe he is just a foolish, green boy, who has no idea how to go about things. The fallout of his failed engagement echoes in the persona he puts on in Season 3, and the choices he undergoes during them. Is it any wonder he ends up going to brothels to have unfulfilling sex if even his own BROTHER, the head of his family, tells him to do so?

It doesn't happen right away, though. Despite the fact that no one truly checks on him or sees how this breakup effects him (Eloise dismisses the hurt he must feel in light of such events with an honestly rather accurate wave-away "Men are always less affected", and that is true), it is evident that he is NOT okay.

We leave Colin in Season 1 putting on a mask, a happy face to his family, a 'you inspired me' to Penelope, and then spends his travels sad. Depressed. Taking drugs to try to ease his mind, occupying himself with writing to Penelope. In Season 2, he spends the entirety of it trying to be useful. And he does this with Penelope. He feels deeply for her, he cares so much for her, and he even says it to her aloud 'You are special to me' and 'I will always look after you' and how he could never give her up. Season 2 is a season of healing for Colin- he closes his chapter with Marina with a relationship post-mortum conversation after he does a wellness check to make sure she's alive (let's be real here, no one else was going to reach out to her. She made it clear to him that even her own father didn't want her), makes amends with Will, proves himself useful to Penelope, and departs on a high: he thinks he threaded the needle. He thinks he was successful sending Jack off, that he made Penelope happy, and that he's in with The Boys.

But whilst the person he is around Penelope is genuine, the person he is around these men are not. We know from Season 3 that they don't actually like him. They make snide, underhanded comments toward him, and laugh at him. I stand by the idea that end of season 2 is Fife and Co. laughing at Penelope AND laughing at Colin. They don't care about their friendship, they're teasing him for caring about her so openly, and Colin is protective of the relationship he has with Penelope. So he makes a comment for the boys, and puts on his mask. 'I would never court Penelope Featherington' (look, I'm just like you. I walk like you, talk like you, speak like you) 'Not in your wildest fantasies, Fife' (I am one of you one of you one of you- so why does it feel so hollow?)

He gets, now, his first taste of acceptance from them. They come to him to Mondrich's bar, he repays his slight against him, and he feels he is one of them. (Does he truly *want* to be one of them?) And so when we open Season 3, it's a smooth progression.

Colin is walking the walk and talking the talk, and yet his heart isn't in it. He's not one of these smarmy men, but he mimics them. Their behavior. In part, at least. Whilst Fife is out preying on 18 year old women in coat closets, Colin is telling gaggles of girls how pretty they are and how with such nice dresses, they're sure to find a husband. He makes it clear he's not an option, but that he doesn't mind being a fantasy. And Luke Newton does an amazing job making that clear: there are three sides of Colin. The Colin portrayed to his society in the light in good company (1) and the Colin portrayed to his society in the dark, in. . .less savory circles (aka: The Lads)(2), his 'armor' as his mum calls it. And finally, the most important but the one kept closest to the chest: the Colin of truth. The Colin who cries alone in his room after a breakup, the Colin who doesn't burden others with his feelings, the Colin who writes to Penelope, the Colin who loves deeply and feels deeply.

But his society has no use for a man like the real Colin, they do not *want* a man like real Colin, so he puts it under lock and key. And so much of this is centered around his feelings about sex, so here comes my 'Colin is Queer' soapbox. Colin does not experience sexual attraction like the rest of the men of the ton. He is expected to find it casual and be cavalier about it. To just want to fuck for the sake of fucking. But Colin needs love and romance and connection to actually enjoy sexual interactions. Nowadays, we recognize this as being on the asexual spectrum, of being demisexual, but he didn't have words for that in the time period he's in, so he has to forge ahead to figure himself out without a community identity to find solidarity with. That's what makes the brothel scenes so interesting as a narrative device: in the first, he's masking even in the midst of it, and in the second, he can't. After kissing Penelope, he finally, for the first time in his life, has a sexual interaction that means something to him.

It's the first one he truly enjoys, and the first one that feels right to him. It clicks for him that oh, that's what it's meant to be like. And the strain of that realization whilst still having to be what his society expects of him puts immense stress on his shoulders. You see how he grows more and more uncomfortable about the conversations, until finally he rejects it outright.

Even when it's very much not encouraged for him to do so. He's even told "You are much more fun this season." That's why he hides himself. From near everyone, even his family, even his brothers. It's telling how Anthony's positive interaction with Colin is when they're at the club, and Anthony praises him for his most recent attention. Have we seen much of Anthony being proud of Colin, otherwise? Not really. So he's reinforced in his persona. Doesn't boast of his travels because it didn't have anyone liking him for it, before. Doesn't even say how many cities he's gone to. Except with Penelope.

In the books, there's a line about their kiss, referencing how his world will never be the same. And it won't be. Because when Colin says that she helps him see the world in new ways, it's in a multitude of meanings.

Penelope refuses to let him wear the mask, because in truth, Penelope is the only one who doesn't like it. Not only does she see the real Colin, but she enjoys the real Colin. Whilst everyone else is simpering over Colin's new look and attitude, rejects who he is in reality, Penelope dismisses it, wants the person she knows him to be instead. It's only when he strips down the facades that Penelope allows him into her life again. And her Whistledown article was harsh, but it was also true. He *is* masking. He *is* putting on a persona and a role. But she was wrong when she asked if Colin even knows which is real: Colin knows very well which is real. And he also knows the realities of him haven't been accepted.

When Colin tells Penelope charm can be taught, he speaks from experience. When he says 'living for the expectations of others is a trap' it is because he has already fallen into it, and if he can't dig himself out, maybe he can keep her from it. Colin tells her 'you do not need lessons' and that she is fine exactly as she is, because just as she sees the real him and loves him, he sees the real her, and loves her, too. But they both live in the constraints of their society, and so they both put on the masquerade. Even sometimes to hide from each other.

The current climax of his arc is when he's out with the lads, after they all go off to the brothel again, and he disassociates from the experience. Playing cards and insisting on sharing sexual exploits, to which he does not want to take part, and makes a lighthearted dig at them. 'There is no gentleman at this table'. He includes himself in that, and then clarifies. He speaks aloud for the first time to them the truth of his heart- 'Do you not ever tire of the expectation to remain cavalier about the one thing in life that holds genuine meaning? Do you not find it lonely?' Can it really only just be him?

And it is. Or, maybe it isn't, but the rest of them aren't brave enough to admit it, so they're okay in making him feel like it is, in outcasting him for being a romantic, for caring about a woman beyond what she can provide for him sexually. Colin professes he doesn't like who he's become, doesn't like the expectations for him to behave the way he has, and they laugh at him. Again. He is made fun of, again.

He goes home and he falls in his bed and he feels like he lost it all. Lost Penelope to his own advice, and lost his newfound shine in his community. But when he's faced with which one matters more to him, he chooses Penelope. Unhesitatingly.

Colin chooses to be sensitive. He chooses to be a warm-hearted, gentle man in a society that prefers sexist machismo. Act one way in the light and another in the shadows. Colin wants to live authentically, as a man he doesn't really have a role model for. He is brave and he is tender, he sees the sexism of his society and he rejects it. He sees the importance Penelope has in his life, the way she makes him feel, and he embraces her wholeheartedly. He wants love and romance, he wants connection and meaning.

Colin, The Great Pretender, sick of pretending. Colin, walking into that ballroom and giving Fife the cut direct when he invites him out. Colin, cutting into a dance in the middle of a ball between Penelope and a man the entire city knows is about to propose. Colin staring deeply into her eyes with such unfiltered longing even *Cressida* can't help but notice what's going on. Colin running off after Penelope in full view of his society, outrunning a *carriage* to see her. Begging her to let him in. Colin on his knees, all but flaying his chest open for Penelope to see his heart. Colin made a choice when that candle flickered out, and his choice was Penelope. His choice was himself. And his choice was to flip off societal expectation and to live for love, damn the consequences.

I think our own world would be a better place if modern men took his example, too. Colin Bridgerton as male love lead in Bridgerton, a global show, is such a refreshing, wonderful example. A man who tried to be like what the world wanted, and who decided to go against the gender norms of his time. A man who prioritizes the woman he loves, who risks ridicule in doing so and comes to realize that he doesn't care. He doesn't care anymore about being one of the boys, one of the lads, one of the guys. Fuck his society if his society can't recognize the beauty of what he feels with Pen. He cares about being the best self he can be. And that best self is around Penelope, inspired by Penelope.

Because how he is with Penelope? God, I could swoon. At every turn, he prioritizes her comfort and personhood. He validates her, he sees her in beautiful, positive light and he helps her see herself that way, too. He encourages her to be brave because he already feels she is, he refuses to let her call herself stupid or a laughingstock, he apologizes without excuses, he checks in on her every step of the way. He's so passionate in that carriage, he's burning for her, he's yearning, but he doesn't do anything until she agrees for him to. He confesses his feelings and when she says they're friends, he backs off. He listens, he cares. He apologizes for overstepping her boundaries, and then when she gives him her consent, the only thing on his mind is showing how much he wants and appreciates her by providing her pleasure. Colin, the people pleaser, dedicated only to pleasing two people in that moment: Penelope, and himself. Because he wants to do that, to give her an orgasm that exists just for her. He's a witness to it, and that's pleasure for him, too. He waits for her nod of consent, he revels in seeing her enjoying herself. And the aftercare- I could cry.

Colin is a man who had every single reason not to be a kind, sensitive soul, and still he chose it. Chose to share it because the headline, even a wallflower can bloom, that's not just for Penelope.

It's for Colin, too.

[yandere-daze]

I thought it was high time that I finally wrote something for this man and this idea was stuck in my head for days. I hope you enjoy! <3

gn reader

2.3k words

cw yandere, obsessive behaviour, hypnotizing siren song, manipulation

Yandere! Siren! Sunday x Sailor! Reader

You weren´t supposed to be anything more than an easy prey. A human led astray by his enchanting tunes like any other, only to be torn apart once within reach.

You were a simple sailor sailing the deep waters of the ocean with your small crew. For what purpose? Sunday wasn´t quite sure and he didn´t really care to know. All he yearned for was sinking his claws into your vulnerable flesh as he dragged you to the bottom of the ocean.

You see, Sunday was a siren, a hunter in the image of a beautiful young man with grey hair and enchanting golden eyes. Were it not for his singing voice, a deep gaze into his radiant eyes would be enough to tempt any poor fool into his waiting arms. Yet his voice, oh his voice, its heavenly sound masking his dark intentions.

Within his lifetime, Sunday has lured many unfortunate sailors to their demise though, in recent times, fewer and fewer boats have delved through the waters he called his home. From what he had witnessed being whispered onboard, tales of cunning and vicious sirens roaming these waters have reached the mainland, causing many to steer clear and avoid this place.

This naturally annoyed Sunday, for the flesh of humans was what he sustained himself with. This fact only increased his determination when after quite a long while of waiting for a sign of life, a boat had finally lost its way into his domain again. Sunday had been hungry for way too long now, he couldn´t let this stroke of luck go to waste.

So certain that he would finally claim his prey again, he decided to first spy on the passengers of the boat before making his move. It was important for him to know the routines and habits of the sailors if he wanted to catch them alone to entice them to run into their doom.

As a siren, Sunday was more powerful than an average human but even he wouldn´t be able to fight off several sailors if he were to try and hypnotize someone in broad daylight. He couldn´t risk the crew becoming aware of his presence and leaving, he couldn´t go on without another meal again.

And so, he secretly started spying on the passengers of the small boat, staring at them from behind a rock and making sure to keep his tail concealed within the water. He watched everyone go along with their days on board the ship when something unexpected happened.

He saw you, stepping away from the rest of the crew to stand near the edge of the boat, a smile on your face as you let the sun shine on your face. Without even realizing it, you had stepped close to where Sunday had gone to hide. You were so close, almost within arm´s reach. For a moment, Sunday deliberated if this was his chance to strike.

With you separated from the rest of the crew like this, it would be a simple thing indeed to lure you into the waters where you would disappear forever.

But just as he thought this, he stopped in his tracks as he watched your carefree smile, suddenly becoming enchanted by the way the light of the sun rained upon your skin. For lack of a better word, your presence at that very moment was mesmerizing and Sunday felt warm inside as if the rays of the sun were descending on him instead.

And then, for a moment, Sunday almost felt his heart stop for then you opened your mouth and started, he almost couldn´t believe it, singing.

There you were, practically within the jaws of a predator, and letting your soul rejoice in song so carelessly. And yet, within your naivety, Sunday couldn´t help but feel at peace. Your song rang out across the lonely waters, unaware that your secret audience was becoming more and more enchanted by you by the second.

Your singing, Sunday couldn´t quite describe it. It sounded nothing like his own singing, which was beautiful and yet felt intrinsically wrong somehow. Your song was nothing like that. It might have not been as pretty or practiced as his own singing, but yet it managed to ring true within his heart. Your song felt earnest and real, untainted and uncorrupted by malice. Within seconds, you had captured his attention and heart, yet you were completely unaware that he was even present.

In an ironic twist of fate, Sunday felt himself being pulled towards you as if touched by magic, an ardent longing for you deep within his chest. It was as if you were the siren calling out to him, beckoning him closer like a lovesick sailor lost at sea, yet Sunday was sure that instead of a sudden demise, he would find true salvation within your arms. With the way you were holding out your arms, he could almost imagine you wrapping them around his body in a lover´s embrace, pulling him so close as if you would never let go of him again.

Because he knows that´s what he would do if he finally had his beloved in his arms. For only a fool would ever let go of the person they want to spend the rest of their life with. It filled him all at once, this desire to have you for his own, to make you his dearest mate.

You were radiant and joyful in a way he had never seen before and he couldn´t bear the thought of letting you slip away from him.

And from the desperate yearning he could so clearly hear in your song dedicated to just him, he knew that you must feel the same way. You were just waiting, begging to be taken away by him. Why else would you walk so close to him, all on your own and profess all of your feelings like this? Sunday now knew that this meeting was fated to happen and he would be sure not to waste it.

He had been watching you closely for the past few days along with the other sailors aboard the ship and he saw how the other crew members acted around you. He had thought nothing of it back then but now boiling jealousy filled his being as he remembered how chummy they had been acting with you. How they had laughed and joked around with you so easily, how they had thrown their arms around you and sang cheery tunes beneath the starry sky.

He especially detested that one scoundrel that had dared to kiss your cheek so invasively. How dare they treat you like this? How dare they lay their filthy hands on you when your beauty was meant for solely him to treasure? But not to worry, Sunday would finally bring you home and keep you safe.

He understood your surprise when he finally emerged from his hiding spot and started swimming towards you. You looked so pitiful with your body shaking and your eyes growing wide when you saw his shimmering white mermaid tail. You poor thing must be frightened out of your mind because of all these stories you were told about his kind but do not be afraid! Sunday would never hurt you like this.

You were special to him, you just needed to allow him to show you that. You backing away from the railing, backing away from him, just wouldn´t do.

"Darling, there is no reason to be afraid, I´m not here to hurt you, do not let their horrid tales corrupt your thoughts. I am here to finally take you home!" He reached out his hands to you, wishing for you to jump into them and accept his love willingly yet he could only click his tongue in disappointment when instead, you took another step back.

"D-don´t come any closer!", you shouted out, breaking the poor siren´s heart in the process. How it hurt him to see you so frightened that you would turn your soulmate away. But no matter, he was prepared to take matters into his own hands and nudge you towards your own happy ending. You just needed a little bit of convincing.

"My darling, please listen to me! You and me, I know we were meant to be! So please don´t resist this, alright?", he hummed gently, his voice almost pitiful while begging you to hear him out.

You would have even felt sympathy for him if you weren´t acutely aware that you were facing a dangerous predator. There was no doubt in your mind that this was a siren and you needed to get away from there fast.

But unfortunately for you, you weren´t quick enough for as soon as you had gathered your resolve, Sunday´s ethereal singing voice had swiftly broken it down.

Suddenly, all your previous thoughts about him being a danger to stay away from evaporated, leaving you confused as to why you ever wanted to run away from him. There was nothing dangerous about him, was there?

Instead, your mind was now being filled with pleasant images of you and the siren spending time together, of him holding you close protectively, of him swearing his eternal love and kissing you. All of a sudden, you felt warm all over as you gazed deep into Sunday´s eyes and you knew that he was the one that was meant for you.

Slowly, one step at a time, you walked closer to the edge of the boat again, where Sunday was happily holding out his hands for you to take, eagerly grasping at air as if to usher you even closer.

And you were all too eager to follow his demands as a sugary sweet melody droned on and on in your ears, overwhelming you with feelings of everlasting love and devotion.

"That´s it, darling. Come closer. It´s only a few more steps.", he urged you on, almost desperately as you almost came into touching range. It was only a few more moments until he could finally have you in his arms. And once he did, he would never allow you to leave him again. Not that you would be able to underwater.

Voices were picking up in the background, quickly getting closer and Sunday realized that your crew must have picked up on what was happening.

"Come here quickly, darling!", he shouted, his voice growing more urgent and desperate the closer the booming voices got.

And you did as he said, quickening your steps towards him with a lovesick smile on your face.

"I´m almost there, my love", you said and Sunday´s heart almost burst at the sweet tone you took with him. He knew you were currently under the influence of his siren song but he strongly wanted to believe that the love you felt for him was real. Why else would you too be looking at him so full of yearning?

"Someone, quick! Grab on to them! That siren is trying to lead them to their death!", a gruff voice yells from the back with several more footsteps scrambling quickly behind. They were advancing on you fast and Sunday knew he was almost out of time as one quickly ran up to you.

"No, no, no! Don´t touch them! They´re mine! Don´t ruin this for me!", he yelled out in anger, his eyes a furious storm as they glared at the person trying to get a hold of you. He couldn´t fail so close to the end. How dare they accuse him of trying to harm you?!

"Please, you need to come to your senses!", the sailors try to reason with you but it´s almost like you can´t even register what they say.

" I need to meet with my love, he´s waiting for me.", you say, still smiling as you step to the very edge of the boat, looking down at a Sunday growing more and more manic by the second.

"Jump into my arms, darling! Accept my love and be mine forever!", the siren calls out to you as a crew member grabs into your arms, trying to pull you back.

"Don´t listen to him! Please, don´t do as he says!"

You struggle violently against the hold, kicking and screaming, demanding to be let go.

"No, you can´t separate me from my love, let me go! I need to be by his side!", you scream and with an especially harsh kick, the sailor lets go of you for a moment, leaving you with enough time to take the final step and jump right into your demise.

Sunday gently catches you in his arms, a lovesick smile on his face as he finally gets to hold you like he wanted to. You´re finally all his and there´s nothing that can be done about it anymore.

"I´m so happy you chose me, darling. We´re going to be so happy together. I´ll take such good care of you. No one else is ever going to touch you again.", he whispers into your ear and you can´t help but giggle joyfully at the prospect, your mind singing with affection, drowning out the growing panic within you.

But what is there to be afraid of? You´re finally united with the love of your life and nothing will ever separate you again.

Sunday holds you firmly as he quickly swims away from the boat, leaving your panicked crewmates behind.

Now that he finally has you, he will make sure that you´ll grow to love him even without his song. He knows that deep down, you love him just as much as he does you, you´ll just need a little bit of time to adjust to your new life underwater. He knows of a very beautiful underwater cave that he can keep you in until you grow more accustomed to your new life with him. Down there, you´ll never be able to escape his grasp again.

You will be his forever, for that is the consequence of putting him under a spell like you has.

And then he takes you with him to the very depths of the sea, never to be seen again.

[dandylovesturtles]

I lied

this fic is going to have at least four parts. oops.

Sorry this took longer than I intended! I started working on it literally the next day after the first part went up and banged out 3K words, then wrote another 1.5K over the next couple days, ended up hating it, deleted the whole thing and started over. I'm much happier with this version.

I had intended for this part to go deeper into the immediate aftermath buuuut this part ended up so long I decided to make that the next part!

And I got enabled on discord to be mean with the cliffhanger, so... sorry <3

CW: minor violence, angst, nobody having a good time, Bishop being Bishop

btw this is Part 2 of the Room Fic that doesn't have a title yet. If you're confused, start here!

-----

They're somewhere in Nebraska, and Raph's never seen so many stars before.

He thought he had seen stars, when they went camping in the woods that time with Todd. Now, sitting on the side of the road by the Turtle Tank, he's realizing that he didn't really see them.

He wishes he could enjoy it, but he can't. Not really. Because nine days ago, Leo stormed out of the lair and never came home.

(Raph knows the thing he'll always blame himself for is picking the fight in the first place.)

It took them several days to learn what had happened to him. Even more days to learn where he was taken. And now they're stuck on the side of the road in Nebraska while Donnie fixes a flat.

Mikey's dozing against his shoulder. He hasn't been getting enough sleep, not that any of them have. April's handing Donnie tools and keeping him company while he changes the tire. Draxum and Splinter are inside the tank, on the lookout for cops with the help of Donnie's police scanners.

It's cool since the sun went down. Quiet. Crickets are out and playing their songs. Raph's seen a few deer, and an owl. The stars are twinkling overhead, and it's calm, peaceful.

The weight on his shoulder is suddenly gone; Raph looks down to find Mikey sitting up straight, wide awake and head cocked to the side like a bloodhound who just caught a scent.

He opens his mouth to ask - and then he feels it too.

It's a cacophony of emotions, strong and hot and mixing together until they're overwhelming. Fear, pain, exhaustion, loneliness, and a blinding fury like even Raph has never felt before. Hatred and bile and the desire to attack, to harm, to destroy.

And underneath it all, a presence as familiar to him as his own, one that's been by his side since almost the day he was hatched. One that is fragile and desperate and screaming out for help.

Leo.

Raph stands up - next to him, Mikey is already on his feet. Raph reaches out his hand, his ninpo flaring to life, straining out into the open air like if he just stretches far enough, he can pluck Leo out of the hell he's trapped in and bring him home.

But he can't reach far enough, because the EPF took him all the way to Colorado. And they're still on the side of the road in Nebraska.

As quickly as it came, the presence is dying away again. It shrinks smaller and smaller and then fizzles out. Raph releases his breath, letting his ninpo fall away, his fingers still grasping open air.

A sniffle. Raph looks down and finds Mikey sobbing. He scoops his little brother into his arms, and Mikey throws himself into Raph's chest, heaving breaths shaking his tiny frame.

"Leo," he whimpers. All Raph can do is pat his shell.

He turns to take stock of Donnie next, carrying Mikey over. His other little brother has tears trickling down his face, too, more subdued but still visible. He's holding his wrench in a vice grip, and for once he doesn't utter a single protest when Raph reaches out and tucks him in under his free arm.

"...What just happened?" asks April, hesitant. Raph wishes he knew how to explain.

"It was Leo!" Mikey does it for him. "He... he's reaching for us."

"What!? Like, mind meld or something!?"

"No," answers Raph. "I don't really know what that was... but it was definitely Leo."

"So..." April pauses, eyes searching each of their faces. "Is he... okay?"

None of them know what to say, but she gets it anyway.

"...I'm going to destroy the EPF," says Donnie, voice dark and cold. "I'm going to raze it to the ground. There will be nothing left."

Raph squeezes his shoulders, pulling him closer.

He doesn't know what to do other than agree.

-----

"This is a good thing," says Draxum. "That means he's still alive."

"But they're hurting him!" Mikey argues. He's halfway in Draxum's lap, arms wrapped around Draxum's middle. Donnie sits on one of the bench seats, curled tight around his own legs, while Splinter strokes his head. Raph sits on the bench seat across from them, April leaning against his side.

"I told you what the EPF is capable of," Draxum reminds them. "This is not a surprise."

"Read the room, Barry," says April.

Splinter's look is increasingly far away, his touch on Donnie's head automatic and absentminded. He's able to stay in the room with them when there's something to do, but now the fear and depression are threatening to take him away again. For the hundredth time since this nightmare began, Raph feels the hopelessness set in.

Draxum sucks, but he's right, echoes the voice in his head that sounds too much like Leo. The plan hasn't changed. Now get moving before you tire out.

"Drax is right that Leo's alive," Raph echoes. "So we need to get a move on. Donnie, how's the tank?"

Donnie uncurls, coaxed by the request to talk about his baby. "The spare's on, and I did some checks on the engine and interior systems. We're ready to go."

"Alright." Raph stands up, rolling his shoulders. "It's Raph's turn to drive. Everyone buckle up."

The mood in the tank shifts after that; they have a direction, and a plan. Leo is hurt, but he's still alive, and nothing has changed.

Donnie and April sit together in the front seats. Mikey passes around snacks and drinks from their cooler, then snuggles in between their dad and Draxum. Draxum says something negative about the snack food, which pulls Splinter out of his trance and starts up some heated bickering between them. Even more of the tension leaks out of the cab.

Raph puts the tank in drive and pulls back onto the quiet highway, driving west again. At their back, the sun starts to rise.

-----

It's late in the day when they reach Colorado Springs.

Donnie was able to pin the EPF base's location down to the mountains surrounding the town, but he couldn't find its exact location. Whatever equipment they have, it's completely scrambled the subcutaneous tracker Donnie put on Leo (and boy, was that a stir when Donnie revealed he'd put trackers on all of them). It had taken a combination of Donnie's hacking and April's investigative skills to get this far.

"It makes sense," says April as they pull the tank into a campsite outside the city limits. "There's, what, three bases here? Where better to hide a secret branch of the military than with the military?"

There's snow on the ground outside, even though it's early May. Even so, the temperature was pretty mild while the sun was up. "It's the proximity to the mountains," Donnie explains when Raph mentions it, but the rest of the explanation blurs together. He's too tired to keep up with Donnie's science facts, but infodumping calms his brother down, so he lets him do it and nods along.

They eat a proper meal that Mikey cooks for them on one of the campsite grills, then settle in to nap until the sun goes down. Raph isn't sleeping, and he can tell from all the shifting around that Mikey and Donnie aren't, either. They're too close to Leo now to rest.

But you gotta catch some Zs before you go storming into enemy territory, the Leo in his head reminds him.

Raph hates every second you're in there, he thinks. But it won't be long now. Big bro's comin'.

He wishes the Leo in his head would say that he believes that. But all Raph can remember are the words they said during the fight, and he never quite goes to sleep.

-----

They break into pairs for their search. Raph goes with April, Mikey with Splinter, and Donnie stays with Draxum at the tank. Donnie uses his tech to try and narrow down the location of the base, while the other two teams go in opposite directions and start scouting the area on foot.

It takes a long time for them to learn anything, and as the sun comes up again, Raph starts to worry that they're going to have to leave Leo trapped for another full day.

But then he and April finally get a lead. They send the info to Donnie, and it helps narrow down his search.

Just after dawn, they reconvene at the tank, gathered around satellite images and drone shots of a nondescript military compound several miles outside the city.

"There it is," says Donnie with finality. "That's where they're keeping Leo."

"Then what are waiting for?" asks Mikey.

Wait for dark, says the Leo in Raph's head.

And that advice makes sense. There will be fewer employees at night. The dark provides natural cover. It's sane. It's smart.

Raph ignores it entirely.

He's not leaving his little brother with those people for one second longer. Not after what he felt, sitting on the side of the road in Nebraska.

"We're not waiting for anything," he says. "Let's move out."

From the looks on their faces, they all agree.

------

The site looks as generic as possible. There's a high electric fence circling the whole thing, with a basic "No Trespassing - Government Property" sign. A simple guard stand sits at the drive-in gate. The buildings visible beyond are drab and featureless.

The government stopped publicly funding the EPF in the nineties, Draxum had told them. But the organization had never truly gone away; it was just funded through underground means now. Miscellaneous defense funding. Anonymous donations. Private benefactors.

Originally it had been founded to defend Earth against aliens. But when no alien threat appeared, they moved on to a new mission: defending the United States against yokai.

"Even though we were here first," Draxum had said testily. "Typical Americans."

Raph hadn't liked anything Draxum had to tell them about the EPF. That they weren't bound by any of the laws the rest of the military was. That the yokai they had managed to capture were never seen again. That Draxum had had a very brief run-in with them once, decades ago, and he doubted they had ever forgotten it.

Really, though, all he'd needed to know was that they had his brother.

It's the middle of the morning, so their stealth options are limited. Still, they aren't ninja for nothing; they use the forest and the snowy terrain to their advantage and sneak their way into the compound. Raph has to admit, he was a little worried about Draxum on the trip over, but the old goat does a pretty good job keeping up.

It takes them a bit of time to work out which building to enter. They rule out a mess hall, a medical ward, the barracks, and some kind of training center first. Then, toward the furthest reaches of the compound, they find a building that looks particularly suspicious, with a guard gate on the path leading to it and more armed guards on the roof.

"That has to be it," says Raph. No one disagrees.

They use a passing supply truck to slip past the guard gate, then sneak around the back and use a fire ladder to get to the roof. They dispatch the guards on top quickly and easily, then find a ventilation shaft leading inside. Mikey, Donnie, April, and Splinter fit easily enough, but Raph and Draxum are too big to wiggle through.

"Find out where we're going. Radio us as soon as you find something," Raph says. Then he gives Mikey, April, and Donnie's shoulders each a squeeze in turn. "And be careful."

"Take care of Red," their dad says to Draxum just before he follows the others inside.

"He's safe with me," Draxum promises.

"You're safe with Raph," Raph feels the need to say. Splinter chuckles before disappearing into the shaft after his siblings.

Waiting outside becomes nerve-wracking quickly. Raph starts to pace the length of the roof, back and forth, glancing at the unconscious guards from time to time to make sure they're still unconscious.

"You're going to wear a rut on the roof," Draxum admonishes him. Raph keeps going anyway.

-----

Finally, after what feels like ages but is only about ten minutes, his radio crackles. Raph freezes, pulling his wrist close, where Donnie's tech is hidden under his wraps.

"Hey." It's April's voice. She sounds out of breath, but not distressed. "Come to the back of the building. Should be a door."

"On our way," says Raph, waving at Draxum to follow before dropping off the roof.

The door is easy enough to find, the snow around it trampled down. He gives the metal a rap with his knuckles when he gets there, and the door swings open, April grinning, her bat perched against her shoulder. Behind her is another unconscious guard.

"Nice, April," says Raph, hustling inside. He kicks the last of the snow off his feet once he's on the cold linoleum floor, Draxum following suit. April lets the door swing shut again. "Where's everyone else?"

"We found some kinda security room. Leo's gear was in there." She pushes by and starts to lead them down the hall, voice low, eyes watching for anyone rounding the corner. "Donnie's poking through the camera footage. Didn't look like anyone much was in this hall, so I came to get you."

"And Leonardo?" asks Draxum.

April gives a shake of her head. "Haven't found him yet, but he's gotta be here. There's not much more of the building to search, so we're close."

Raph peeks in open doors and through windows as they walk, taking in the space. It looks like an ordinary office building inside; nothing nefarious, except for the fact that the people working here are kidnapping scum who have done something so terrible to his little brother it made him scream out in anguish and fury. But if he hadn't known that coming in, he wouldn't have expected anything. It all looks very...

Raph comes to a sudden stop. Through the sliver of window in a door, he sees the first occupied room since he's entered the building. Only one person is inside, wearing a white lab coat and tapping away at a computer.

But what's more interesting is the door on the other side of the room: solid metal with no window, and a sign that reads "Inmate Observation - Authorized Access Only".

Raph grabs April by the shoulder before she can get too far ahead, pointing at the window. "Do you know what's in there?"

She turns back and takes a peek. "...No. I don't think we went through there yet."

So they haven't ruled this part of the building out yet. And it's the only one so far with anyone inside.

Inmate Observation.

"Raph, wait, I think we should-" April starts, but Raph doesn't listen. Raph can't stop himself.

His little brother is in here. He knows he is. The one who was taken from them. The one who cried out to them in fear, begging to be saved.

He's not making Leo wait a moment longer.

Raph throws open the door and marches inside.

"...Okay," April says behind him. "I guess we're doing it this way.

-----

The scientist or whoever they are tries to radio for help. Raph picks the radio up and crushes it in his hand. They turn and run, and that takes care of that.

April calls the others on her radio. Raph doesn't listen to the conversation. His eyes are locked on the door.

Inmate Observation.

He reaches out and throws the door back with a bang.

He's ready for the gunshots before they come, and his ninpo is already active, forming a protective bubble around himself and shielding Draxum and April. He's expecting bullets, but instead it's darts; they embed themselves harmlessly in the arms of his projection. Raph waits until the volley stops, then drops the projection, and the darts fall harmlessly to the floor.

He steps into the room and clocks one of the guards on the head before they can reload, watching as they fall to the ground. April wallops the other one, then kicks their fallen gun under a desk. She brandishes her bat at the other occupants of the room: two more scientists in lab coats, and one steely faced man in a suit.

The scientists seem intimidated. The suited man does not.

"Ah," he says. "So you've finally made it here, Draxum."

"Bishop." Draxum sounds equally unimpressed. "I thought you died in the nineties."

"So does most of the world. It's convenient for my work."

"You guys know each other?" April asks, looking between them.

"We know of each other." Draxum sneers. "If my plans had gone as I intended, he would truly be dead by now."

Raph narrows his eyes at the man. "Are you the one who's been keeping my brother here?"

To his credit, Bishop still looks unphased, even though Raph is tall enough to hulk over him. "I am the director of this facility."

It's enough of a yes.

Raph rushes Bishop, slamming him into the wall behind his back. Raph keeps him pinned, one hand on his neck, the other arm pressed against his chest, and Raph presses until he feels something start to crack.

Bishop hisses but does not cry out.

"Where are you keeping him?" Raph demands.

"He's in there," says Bishop, wheezing only slightly from the constriction on his lungs, his voice firm otherwise.

Raph tosses a look where Bishop indicates, seeing a large window. It's looking into a seemingly empty room; white walls and no furniture other than a toilet in the corner.

"Raph don't see him," he growls.

"He hides under the window." Bishop's eyes flicker to one of the scientists. "Pointless, really," he says, giving the man in the lab coat a nod. "Show them."

The scientist looks uneasy, but he turns and clicks a few buttons on a desktop. A screen pops up, but it doesn't show anything other than static.

"...Something is wrong with our camera signals, sir," the scientist reports.

"Ah." Bishop's eyes glint, and then flick back to Raph's face. "So there are more of you."

Raph doesn't answer that. He gives Bishop a rough shake. "What have you done to him?"

"Your brother?" Bishop clarifies. "Nothing."

Another shake. "Don't lie to me."

"I'm not lying." Bishop's eyes are steely, even as his wheezing picks up the more Raph leans into his chest. "Other than as was necessary to move him, we have not touched him."

Raph doesn't move an inch. "I don't believe that."

"Then see for yourself." Bishop looks at the other scientist now, giving a small nod of his head. "Dr. Keller, open the door for this brute so he'll stop assaulting me."

Raph scowls, staying exactly where he is while the other scientist scurries to the metal door by the window and inputs a code into a keypad. There's a beep, and a clipped, artificial voice says, "Inmates clear the door. Security personnel entering. Stay still and you will not be harmed."

Finally, Raph lets Bishop go, and approaches the door.

-----

When Raph imagined one of them getting kidnapped by a shady, quasi-governmental agency intent on imprisoning mutants, he always pictured something... different.

He thought they would be in cages, not tall enough to stand in. That they would be fed from dog bowls or water drippers. That handlers would patrol the room with cattle prods, ready to shock anyone who stepped out of line.

But there is no cage, and no cattle prods. Leo is just in a room.

The first thing Raph notices about the room is the cold. The rest of the building is hardly stifling, but even then, the blast of air that comes through the open door feels like Raph is stepping into a freezer.

As he saw from outside, there's no furniture. Or he doesn't think there is, until he looks down, under the window, and finds a cot.

And what's on the cot makes his heart stop.

Raph can barely remember the last time he saw Leo pull himself fully into his shell for anything other than shell bowling. He complained that it was too small, that the hot and cramped space made him feel claustrophobic.

Now he's completely pulled inside, still and silent in a way Leo should never be.

For an eternity, Raph thinks he's too late. They came all the way here only to save Leo's corpse.

"Leo...?"

He kneels by the cot, reaching out and putting a hand on Leo's shell. He's cold to the touch, and it unsettles Raph even further. He shouldn't be this cold.

Raph keeps his hand where it is and stays very still and very quiet. And he waits.

And then he hears it, so faint he almost misses it: a terrified, whimpering chirp.

Leo is alive.

Raph feels tears spring to his eyes. He puts his other hand on Leo's shell, rubbing in big, soothing motions.

"Leo! Leo, it's me! We're here, we're getting you out! It's all going to be okay, just trust Big Raphie, alright?"

So saying, Raph straightens back up, and grabs Leo's shell in his hands to carry him out, to take his little brother home.

A hand shoots out of the shell, stick thin. Though it's clearly weak, it grabs on to Raph's arm with a desperate ferocity, clawing at the skin there.

Raph freezes, not putting Leo down but not lifting him any further, either. He peers into the gap in Leo's shell, and sees eyes peering back at him, glassy and wide and full of terror. A cornered animal fighting for his life.

Raph takes a deep breath. He summons all the love he has for Leo, all the relief he feels at finding him alive, all the happiness he has from having his little brother in his arms again, and he pours it into a genuine smile, no matter the danger outside.

"Hey, Leo," he says, voice soft. "It's just me. Raph came to get ya. Everything's okay now."

A second passes, then five, then twenty. April starts to come in, but Raph waves a finger at her to tell her to go back before she startles Leo. He keeps the smile on his face, his eyes locked on Leo's, his hold secure but non-threatening.

And then, slowly, Leo pokes his head out.

"Raph?" he asks, in a voice that is exhausted and hoarse and warbling and absolutely beautiful.

"Yeah," says Raph, blinking tears back. "Hey, buddy."

Steadily, Leo unfurls the rest of himself, one limb emerging at a time. He looks terrible. His cheeks are sunken and gaunt, his skin is an unhealthy color, his eyes are ringed by dark black circles showing off how little he's slept.

Raph is so happy to see him. He so wishes this wasn't the state he was finding Leo in. If he could turn back time and make it so Leo never suffered, he would in a heartbeat. But he's so happy to have Leo back that the tears keep flowing.

The grip Leo has on his arm shifts. No longer trying to claw himself free, but grabbing on, holding still, with all the same desperation as before. His eyes search Raph's face, over and over until it seems he's finally satisfied.

"Raph," he repeats, and it's not a question this time.

"Yeah," Raph says anyway. "I'm here."

He lifts Leo the rest of the way, cradling Leo against his chest. Leo's so much lighter than he should be, and Raph feels a sharp pain in his heart over it.

It's okay. They'll leave. They'll take care of him. And then Leo will be all better again.

Leo shifts himself, reaching one arm up and hooking it around Raph's neck. Just that much movement seems to sap a lot of energy, and he slumps his head against Raph, giving up on holding it upright. It reminds Raph of when they were little and he would carry Leo to bed, before Leo started insisting he's too old for that.

"Am I dreaming?" Leo whispers.

Raph's heart breaks, but he doesn't lose his smile. "Nope. You're wide awake."

"Then..." Leo nuzzles closer. "Can we go home?"

"Yeah." Raph sniffles, shifting his grip so he can get a hand free without disturbing Leo. "We can go home."

Leo doesn't say anything more, just hums quietly against Raph's neck. Raph wipes his tears away, then turns and carries Leo out of the room.

-----

Bishop is still against the wall; it's Draxum's vines holding him there now.

When Leo sees him, he shrinks into himself, crossing the arm not hooked around Raph over his chest. Raph turns his body so Leo is shielded from view, glaring hard at Bishop as he does.

"Didn't do anything to him, huh?" he asks, voice icy.

"He is unharmed," says Bishop, equally cold. Raph wants to kill him.

"That's enough out of you," says Draxum, and a new vine wraps around Bishop's mouth. That shuts him up.

April's eyes are wide, her hand over her mouth as she looks at Leo, but she quickly pulls herself together, her expression turning to one of hard steel. She comes closer, only softening when Leo's eyes lock on her.

"Hey, Leo," she says, reaching up and giving his arm a pat. "How're you feelin'?"

"Happy to see you," Leo rasps, and it's so sincere that Raph feels tears spring to his eyes again. April has to blink hard behind her glasses.

"We're really happy to see you, too."

"Yes, everyone is happy now," says Draxum, though his eyes are worried as they look Leo over. "But we still need to get out of here."

"Right." April opens the door back into the offices, letting Raph through, before she pulls up her wrist to talk into her Donnie tech. "Guys, you there?"

"We're here, April," comes Donnie's voice. "We've extracted the information and we're on our way to meet you."

"Great." She smiles up at Raph. "We got Leo."

"Leo!" Mikey's voice comes booming through the radio, loud enough that April cringes and leans back. Raph can hear Donnie make a noise of protest in the background. "Is he okay!? Can I talk to him!? Did he miss me!?"

April raises her wrist so the tech is in front of Leo's mouth. He tilts his head towards it, saying, "Course I missed you."

"LEO!" screams Mikey even louder, and Raph thinks he hears the shout from somewhere in the building, too.

"-key, give me back my arm-" comes Donnie's voice, then there's an exaggerated throat clearing before he's saying, "We'll be there in one minute. Be ready to move."

"We're ready," Raph assures him. They move to the door and watch for the others to appear.

-----

Days of stress seem to fall off his brothers and Splinter when they see Leo.

Raph wishes they could have all the hugs and reassurances he knows they all need, but there's just no time; they're still in enemy territory, and the man who hurt his brother the most is just behind two doors, only being held by Draxum's vines. There's time only for brief shoulder touches and for Splinter to jump up on Raph's shoulder and give Leo's forehead a quick, relieved kiss.

Raph gives the rest of his family a quick glance over. Mikey is carrying Leo's gear, the katana sheathed across his shell and the rest of it slung over his shoulder. They haven't gotten any injuries, as far as he can tell. Everyone looks good to go.

"How do we get out of here?" asks Raph. Donnie pulls up his wrist tech.

"It may be inevitable that we'll face resistance on our way out... But the closest door is this way." He points down the hall, back the way Raph, Draxum, and April came from.

There's a weak thump against Raph's shoulder. "Gunners on the roof," Leo rasps once he has Raph's attention.

Raph wonders how he knows that, but there's no time to ask.

"We took care of 'em," he says instead. "You just relax, okay? We're getting out of here."

Leo lets his head fall against Raph's shoulder again, and Raph takes that as the okay to move.

It takes less time to get out than it did to get in. No need for stealth now that the director knows they're here, after all.

They run down the hallways, through doors, past the still unconscious guard April took care of earlier. Draxum takes the lead through the door, and they all crash as a group outside.

Where a ring of soldiers are waiting for them, guns trained their direction. And Raph isn't sure they're loaded with darts this time.

Leo shudders in his arms, and Raph curls protectively around him, already summoning his ninpo to shield them. His family forms their own protective barrier around the two of them, readying their weapons and squaring off against the soldiers.

Behind them, the door opens.

"This doesn't have to end in anyone getting hurt," says Bishop as he walks out.

Raph doesn't turn towards him, keeping the shivering Leo out of his sight. "What, like you didn't hurt my brother?"

"I've already told you, I didn't touch him." Bishop sounds only mildly put out. "He can attest to that himself."

"It's cute that you think any of us care what you have to say," snaps April, rounding on him and pointing her bat his direction.

"You should care what I have to say." Bishop nods at Raph. "Your comrade needs medical attention. Care that I can provide, if you lower your weapons and surrender."

"Care he only needs 'cause you jerks kidnapped him!" yells Mikey.

"Mikey," whispers Leo. Raph glances down at him, but Leo isn't looking his way.

"I gave Inmate 24365 plenty of chances to cooperate in exchange for more comfortable living conditions. That he declined was his choice. But I have no wish to see him dead. We were going to transfer him to the medical unit just as you arrived and interrupted us; surrender, and we'll take him there now."

"No," snaps Splinter, stepping toward Bishop. "You will come nowhere near my sons ever again."

"Mikey," Leo hisses with more urgency.

"These turtles are your sons? Really?" Bishop sounds disbelieving. Raph still doesn't turn his direction. "What am I supposed to believe next? That humans can give birth to birds?"

"They are my sons!" Splinter asserts. "Come near them again, and you are dead!"

"Perhaps we should kill him now, Lou Jitsu, and be done with it," Draxum suggests.

"Mikey," says Leo, kicking one emaciated foot. Mikey finally looks their way, confused. "Gimme... swords."

He doesn't have to explain. But Raph feels uneasy. He exchanges a glance with Donnie, who seems similarly concerned. "Nardo, I don't think-"

"Hey," says Leo, and even though his vocal chords sound tired and out of use, they can all hear him, their confident face-man of a brother, with a big ego and a cocky tone, shining through. "Trust me, I got this."

Mikey gives him the katana.

"The American government have allowed the yokai to live peacefully within our borders up until now," says Bishop. "If you kill me, that peace will be ruined."

"This war was started when you kidnapped my child!" cries Splinter, snapping his tail.

"You threaten the Hidden Cities as though you know anything about them," says Draxum. "They do not fear you."

"We know more about them than you think."

"You expect me to listen to this blathering?"

"Is it a chance you're willing to take, Draxum?"

Draxum falls silent. The lack of answer makes Raph feel even more on edge. But Leo is holding his katana now.

"You'll threaten the yokai no matter what we do today," says Splinter, voice dark. "No. We will not hand Leonardo over to you. You will not lay a single finger on him."

"So you're saying you won't surrender." Bishop pauses. Leo takes a deep breath. "You agree, Draxum?"

"...Leonardo is my creation. My son." Draxum sounds resolute. "No. I will not surrender."

Bishop scoffs. "Your son... this animal."

It's only the fact that he's holding Leo, fragile and shaking in his arms, that keeps Raph from turning around and killing Bishop right then.

But he doesn't, and Bishop raises his voice.

"Baron Draxum is a known yokai terrorist, who has threatened mass murder on the civilian human population of the United States and the rest of the earth. These five yokai are co-conspirators, and this woman with them a sympathizer and accomplice. They are attacking this base with the intent to harm those inside, and so anything we do now is self defense."

There's a smile in his tone as he says it.

"Fire at will."

Around them, triggers are pulled, and gunshots sound off.

But the flash of blue under their feet is faster.

For the first time since coming outside, Raph chances a look over his shoulder at Bishop, just as he's falling through the portal. Bullets whiz overhead, and one hits home.

The last thing Raph sees as he disappears into the blue light is blood blooming across Bishop's suit.

-----

They fall out of the portal somewhere outside the fence. Raph's not sure exactly where. He's not even sure Leo was aiming, beyond getting them away.

He lets out a relieved laugh, looking around at everyone, in one piece and notably not shot. They still have to get back to the tank, but they made it. They're safe.

"Leo! You did it!" He whoops, looking down at his little brother. "I can't believe you really- ...Leo?"

That's when he realizes that Leo isn't moving.

He's slumped over in Raph's hold, no longer holding himself up. His katana slip out of his lax grip and fall into the snow with a soft whump.

"L-leo!? LEO!"

Part 1 | Part 2 (here) | Part 3 (coming soon)

[pupyuj]

[cw: g!p liz, pregnancy, breeding kink, lactation kink]

i wasn’t meant to write anything for this bcs i was literally just sitting eating breakfast this morning when the thought of baby daddy jiwon graced my brain and i laughed at it for a second but then it got serious so now ya’ll have to indulge me bcs??? 🤤🤤 also not me saying that that one baby daddy yuj was the only time i’ll write abt pregnancy and yet here we are…

kinda long bcs i rlly loved the fluffy stuff so hehe have fun 💖

we’re all thinking about the same thing, right? your chaotic mess of a girlfriend jiwon feeling as if her whole world was turned upside down when you sit her down and give her the news in the morning where the two of you were supposed to go on a cute picnic date 😭 you can’t tell me she wouldn’t sit there for at least half an hour taking everything in, merely just staring at the wall with her mouth hanging open for so long you thought it would get stuck that way 😭😭 and ykw you were worried for a bit!! the two of you certainly didn’t plan on this happening and this was the clear result of both of you forgetting to use protection that one night where you were just eager to feel the other’s skin,, you half expected jiwon to be angry and lash out at you but no! ofc weird ass jiwon takes a deep breath before pulling you up to your feet and hugging you 🥺

she figured that the news was even harder on you since you were the one carrying the kid,, and being the amazing girlfriend she was, she prioritized your feelings over her own,, comforting you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear when you broke down in her arms not bcs you were upset abt being pregnant or anything but bcs you were just relieved that jiwon wasn’t going to abandon you 🥺🥺 and you’d still go on that picnic date with her! it would be awkward at first but best believe she’s promising to be there for you and with you every step of the way whether or not you decide to keep the baby 🥹💞

i believe in the ‘jiwon would be a wonderful soon-to-be-daddy’ agenda! due to her genuine fear of fucking shit up, she’d probably read countless parenting books 😭😭 sure she knew how to take care of a little kid or two but not a baby! let alone one that she made! she’s reading books, getting ahead of the game and researching and possibly buying all the stuff your kid needs, asking her parents for advice… jiwonie just wants to be the perfect partner and parent 🥺💕 you’d find her in the kitchen one day practicing how to make milk—as in making sure it’s the correct temperature and that it tastes good.. don’t ask her how many times she has actually finished a whole tiny bottle of baby milk 😭😭

and now to the nasty parts! ☺️ if i remember correctly i said this same thing about baby daddy yuj (🤤… sorry—) but jiwonie would sometimes find herself staring at you and thinking back to the night she got you knocked up! it would be worse with her though—unlike yujin’s massive ego showoff, she’s more… dreamy about it? 😭 like she’s really basking in every detail of that night from the stumbling-into-your-bedroom shit while giggling, practically ripping each other’s clothes off while making out, jiwon surprising you with her hidden strength when she suddenly just pushes you into the bed and quite literally gives you the best fucking of your life?? all that of that along with seeing that growing bump in your stomach and your now swollen tits heavy with milk, well… nobody can blame jiwon from getting hard on the spot!

also becomes a clingy perv 🤤🤤 obsessed with backhugging you randomly and kissing your neck bcs it makes you giggle bcs ur ticklish and she loves hearing you laugh BUT ALSO you whimper and get goosebumps all over your skin so it just… turns her on so much 🫣 loves caressing your little baby bump while she half listens to you yap about your day and half touches you all over 😳 you don’t notice what she’s doing until one of her hands is squeezing your inner thigh and the other is making its way up to your breasts,, “our kid’s very lucky.. they have the prettiest mom in the whole world.” and she’s leaving marks all over your neck and shoulder while she feels up your soaked panties… 🫣🫣

jiwon’s a love-maker so expect to be gently fucked while standing by the sink! has definitely memorized each and every spot that has you scratching her arms and curling your toes so you were just completely at her mercy the entire time! the contrast of jiwon telling you the sweetest and prettiest things in your ear while she softly fucks you into an orgasm that has you seeing white?? see, she’s all hot and sexy while fucking you but then you turn around after getting situated and you see a wet spot in the middle of her pants.. even she would laugh and cover up her red face 😭 but she can’t help it okay?! it’s totally normal for someone to cum while fucking their partner.. jiwon just happened to be so stinking cute while doing so that you can’t help but take her to bed afterwards 🤭

now as we’ve established before, jiwon’s always taking care of you and that pretty much tripled every time you wanted to do something ‘drastic’ in terms of sex!☝️ jiwon is always careful when in bed with you, only choosing positions that were safe and comfortable for you even if they weren’t for her! even if you have her rolling her eyes to the back of her head while you ride her, jiwon’s still looking out for you! whether it may be asking if you’re okay, if anything hurts, or just singing your praises to ease you 🥺🥺

jiwon’s so weak against dirty talk too?? 😭 especially when you tell her you want to make a big family with her bcs she knows that means you want her to get you pregnant over and over and yk what that does to her brain?? it almost literally shuts it down bcs she gets sooo turned on at the idea 😵‍💫 sometimes she even thinks about it when she’s cleaning up the house or at work and has to run to the bathroom bcs her fucking cock just wants to burst out of her pants 😭 baby can’t control it, she always needs you :((

ah yeah and the moment your tits start leaking?? it’s so over bcs you’d think that jiwon wouldn’t get even more obsessed with you than she already is but you’re so wrong‼️‼️ teases you and calls you ‘mommy’ a lot while licking and sucking away at your breasts.. and eye contact is a must bcs she loves the flush on your cheeks as you watched her lap all of your milk up! 🫣 and she definitely makes a joke abt being the one to drink your breastmilk if your kid ever gets tired of it but the two of you know damn well it’s not just a joke 🤭 jiwon also loves massaging your breasts to ease the tension in your shoulders and god her dick just gets so fucking hard when she feels her hands get wet w your milk 😵‍💫

in all of your years dating jiwon you never could have guessed that there was a gentlewoman in her! definitely the perfect balance of being a good mommy and a very charming daddy 🥺🥺 speaking of which, her knees turn into jelly whenever you ‘jokingly’ call her ‘daddy’ in and out of bed 🫣 she’s the cutest baby daddy ever 💕

[darylbae]

there’s just smth about daryl seeing you injured maybe a broken leg or even an amputated one from a bite and limping, someone holding you up as you walk. he’d almost run over to you and pick you up.

a dumb idea — daryl dixon 🩰

in which you were injured on a run, and daryl can't bare to see you that way without helping.

Rick had chosen you for a run, not alone, but for you to go. He'd seen you were quick, efficient with your melee weapons, and were probably one of the best choices. You were joining Rick and Glenn, Daryl having to sit this one out by Rick's orders. He hadn't cleared the prison in full yet, so he wanted Daryl back here to keep watch. Daryl and you weren't exclusively a thing, neither of you had spoken about it at all, but everyone else could see it was waiting to happen. You were currently just really good friends hiding your feelings for each other, or at least thinking you were hiding your feelings for each other. You were sat in the backseat of the car, happily talking to Glenn as the car rolled towards the gates. You glanced out the window to see Daryl, sulking at the gate yet picking his arm up to wave at you. You returned the gesture, a sweet smile on your face that Daryl had become addicted to. One of the many addicting things about you.

Your positive-for-the-end-of-the-world attitude had come to an end when you'd ran into a building to find some cover, the darkness of the building rendering you blind as your leg had been impaled by a broken bit of a glass shelf. You let out a cry, falling to your feet as Rick and Glenn rushed over to assist you. "You good?" "What happened?" Rick had turned a flashlight to your leg, seeing your jeans ripped and stuck to your leg with the amount of blood. You almost passed out at the look of it, the glass had lodged itself in there pretty snug. "We need to get her back, now," Rick demanded, wrapping an arm around your back and coordinating with Glenn to get you safely to the car. Rick had taken his shirt off and tied it around your leg above the wound, before beginning the drive back to the prison. Glenn had trained his eyes on you and your leg for most of the drive, making sure you were still alive and not dying back there. The drive felt like hours, you felt like closing your eyes but Glenn was adamant on talking to you. Telling you about Maggie, telling you about how sweet Daryl seems to be around you, and you knew it was a distraction tactic, to keep you awake and not looking at your completely blood soaked shin.

You heard the rattle of the gates as they'd slid open for the car, and you felt a short burst of relief to be back. "Dar..." You managed to speak, wincing as Rick had reached for your hand to pull you out. "Daryl." Rick and Glenn had their arms under yours, carrying most of your weight for you. Until Daryl had heard the commotion and come out to see what the fuck people were shouting for.

Daryl saw you. Your leg, completely red from the knee down, being assisted into the prison. He wanted to help, he wanted to ease your pain even just a little. Dropping his crossbow to the ground, he'd paced over to you, relieving Glenn and Rick of their duties. "It's okay, I got ya," he cooed, "I got 'er," he'd lifted you, arms clinging to you as he led you to the cell block. "It's okay, sweetheart." Your blood loss wasn't fatal, thankfully, but Herschel was about to have you on the mend in no time.

You'd been allowed to rest, peeling your eyes open after having slept a while. The first thing you were aware of was the pain in your leg, which was thankfully still there. It was still light outside, so it must not have been long at all. A bottle of water and some pain meds were sat at your bedside, and you'd desperately taken them in order to ease your pain. "There's my girl." You heard, and Daryl had entered your cell and sat at your side. "How's the leg?" You chuckled. "It's seen better days." You could've sworn you'd spotted a smile on his face for a moment. "Were you scared? Did you think I was gonna die?" You teased, poking his arm and smiling innocently up at him. "No," he answered, "you're a fighter. I know that." There was something he was keeping to himself, you could see it in his brain. Almost as if he wasn't allowing himself to say it. It had been a tough process even getting to a friendly level with him, he had always kept his feelings to himself. But you liked to believe you were making progress with him, you wanted to. "What's on your mind?" You asked sweetly, your voice like honey, and he was addicted. God, he was addicted. He wanted nothing more than to have you night and day, for breakfast, lunch and dinner. But he didn't know the first thing about flirting, or even dating. "Nothin," he grumbled, and you sighed dramatically. "Come on, Daryl," you exclaimed, "talk to me. I need some sort of stimulation for my brain." Your voice was light, but you meant it. He paused, almost debating whether or not to say it. "I just care about ya, is all. When I saw ya bein carried in, my mind just stopped and all I wanted to do was make sure you were okay. Told Rick it was a dumb idea." You smiled, poking his arm again. "You care about me, that's sweet. I care about you, too." He grabbed your hand as it made contact with his arm, and just held it between his own. This was his way of expression, to show you how he felt without ruining it with his words. The pair of you just sat in silence, hands interlaced, a stupid grin on both your faces as you stared at each other. Adrenaline was pumping through your veins, a wave of confidence taking over you as you leaned up and pressed a small kiss to his cheek. Once Daryl had registered what you'd done, he'd turned his head, closing the small gap between you both for a delicate kiss. He was so gentle, his hands still holding yours firmly, and you wanted to do this forever. "I hope that speaks better than I do." He admitted, and you just laughed, resting your head on your shoulder. "Now get some rest, I don't want to see ya on your feet for the rest of the day."

[mediumgayitalian]

“Can I come over tomorrow?”

Nico’s hands still on the stubborn pillowcase. “To…my cabin?”

“Yes.”

“Um.” He resumes, sliding slowly away from Will’s wide round eyes, stuffing the puffy square of feathers into its fabric prison. The ghost of geese past are not happy with him. He is their prince. They will submit. “Yeah? You could all those other times, too.”

“Yeah, but I want to come over.”

“Yes,” Nico agrees, wondering if this is perhaps one of those moments Kayla warned him about. Has it reached day five of Will not sleeping? He doesn’t think so. He was napping when Nico came into the infirmary this morning to help with the tidying he promised to do. At least he was drooling enough that Nico hopes he was sleeping. “You mentioned.”

“So I can?”

“Yes, Will.”

Maybe it’s just an American thing. Nico has been noticing some Moments lately. He’s not sure if all teenagers have unanimously decided on some code they’d like to speak in during the few months he was busy defeating his great grandmother, or if maybe he’s finally stuck around long enough to notice, but nobody says what they mean, nowadays.

(He has gathered, thus far, that ‘on fleek’ is a synonym for ‘aflame’, although ‘yeet’ continues to evade him. Perhaps because Cecil and Lou appear to have indulged in the sick delight of replacing their every word with the term with the sole purpose to Confuse. Or perhaps, as Will has so indicated, they have each endured one concussion to many and are beyond any hope.)

“Sick!” That one Nico knows, at least. “I’ll come by after my morning shift? Connor got cursed by the Hypnos, Hecate, and Aphrodite cabins this morning so I have to do brain surgery before he forgets how to feel genuine human connection again, but I’ll be done by noon. Probably. I mean, Connor has a thick skull, genuinely I mean, which is why his lobotomy has been delayed so many times, but so long as I —”

It has been under Nico’s notice lately that Will eyes, genuinely, sparkle. He has read the cliche time and time again and rolled his eyes almost every time: diamonds sparkle. Water sparkles. Snow sparkles. Eyes reflect, and sometimes glow with reflection. They do not sparkle. To claim a set of eyes are sparkling is to profess to the world and all capable of registering your words that you are a brainless idiot who cannot dredge up from the depths of your mind, the most barren and bereft back corners, a single unique or clever comparison; a minutely original way to describe excitement or animation.

And yet.

Will is indeed very animated, and very excited about very many things, and it shows on his face; in the wideness of his grins, the springing mass of his curls, the stilted and flailing gilt of his languid limbs. It also shows, perhaps most obviously, in his genuinely magnificent eyes — Nico has seen the Logan Sapphire. He has touched the precious thing with reverent hands, stared in awe as it thrust out the light shine upon it like the golden ichor of Ouranous swirling with the sweet saltwater to birth Love Incarnate. He knows glittering, he knows gleaming, shimmering and shining and twinkling.

Will’s eyes sparkle, like the very tip of a mountaintop, like the crackling ends of a flame, like dewdrops on spider silk. It is transfixing. It is alluring.

“—ico. Nico! Hello-o?”

It is also a trap.

“Sounds great,” Nico says loudly, voice like cold soda over vanilla ice cream. He clears his throat, twice, to no avail. His vision begins to blur as the heat pouring off of his face warps the air. “Um. See you then?”

Will nods, or at least Nico hopes he does. His curls bounce, anyway. They are hard to miss. They remind Nico tangentially of how laughter sounds, unimpeded by shame; how the shimmering satin of a ribbon would curl and bend under the smooth slide of the scissor’s blade.

(His father’s circuit of jesters often included poets playwrights. They also doubled as Nico’s babysitters. Surely no lasting consequences, that.)

“Yes!” He flashes a smile, then, and it becomes imperative to note that his eyes squint at the force of it, and his slightly-too-big teeth brush his bottom lip, and he has, in fact, on each cheek, a dimple.

Now, Will is often and even frequently called Apollo Junior by just about every living soul in camp, up to and including Immortal Camp Director And Horse, Chiron; and uproariously once even Mr D, God of Wine. Allegedly, as taunted by Kayla, even by Will’s own mother. The golden hair and unfortunate habit of winking and legs for days do most definitely create an image.

Nico, however, contrarian he be, must deny: he has seen Apollo. Apollo is beautiful and golden and charming, but Will is not quite his spitting image. Will, more aptly, is the son of the Sun. He glows; the glare of his smile leaves impressions behind in the cells one’s eyes, the glide of his limbs is almost dragging, languid. To look at him is to commit yourself to blinding. To seek so desperately the solace of the light as to ignore the unsettling sting of the burn.

“I can’t wait!”

As a blissful cloud moving in front of the solar system’s brightest star saves your eyes the eternal fate of darkness, Will’s duty so saves Nico from an eternity of shadow. He returns, humming softly and horribly, to his work, sifting through folders and updating patient files, and Nico exhales the breath setting foundations in his lungs, slumping forward in fervent relief. A melancholic reprieve from the summer rays, if only for a moment.

He waves goodbye, or at least he hopes that he does, rushing out the infirmary doors and tripping down the rickety porch steps.

“Hurrying somewhere, Nicholas Claus?” drawls Mr. D, throwing darts a perilously balanced apple atop the horns of a satyr bleating in morse code.

“That was not even an attempt,” responds Nico, and hurries away before he can be dolphinized. Dolphinified? Made into a bottle-nosed beast. (Why bottle? Of all comparisons to make, who decided bottles were the utmost separate object to which the snout of the slippery beasts should be named? Oh, wait, drunk people. Bottles. Okay. Mystery solved.)

He manages, in his heroic retreat across the common, not to destroy entire swathes of grass and plants, a feat for which the Muses could perhaps write epics about. Truly he is capable of the utmost restraint and self-control. He does raise several full sized wolf skeletons, but they seem primarily preoccupied with hunting down the the Stolls, so a win-win as far as Nico is concerned. Probably not for Connor, who is apparently cursed or concussed, he doesn’t remember exactly, but he has managed thus far with his startling amount of daily braincell loss so by statistic and happenstance he is bound to survive another incident.

“There has to be away to shut myself off,” Nico says, out loud to himself, proceeding the slam of his cabin door and the heavy breathing upon it. He turns to his altar. “You mentioned an off button, Father. I don’t suppose it has been successfully implemented.”

No answer comes forth. He indulges in a brief moment of self pity, wherein the Nico who lives in his brain clears his throat, digs around the messy confines of his mind to find an imaginary black hoodie, slips it on, digs around again for a dagger, and stabs himself, choking and twitching pitifully. Real Nico then walks with great purpose to the exact geological centre of the stone cabin.

“Okay,” he says again. He nods, once, narrowing his eyes in determination. The Nico in his brain opens one curious eyelid. (Does Will do psychiatric assessments?) “Okay, this is. Hm.”

It is not the first time they have been alone together, after all.

In the weeks following Gaea’s defeat and Will Solace’s nonstop, irritating persistence, Nico has been thrust in his proximity an incredible number of times. From his three day stay, during which he was simply so unconscious for so long his father was concerned enough to manifest onto the mortal plane and poke at his soul until he responded, to his unofficial indoctrination (ha) as a nurse, to camp clean-up efforts, to cabin renovation, to general life — they have become friends. Coworkers, at least. Together they make the camp a little more bearable for everyone in it, including Nico. It is rewarding work. It is illuminating work; Will is a good teacher, and he is funny, and he is good company (and he happens to have very long legs that he does not bother to cover up very often and Nico has eyes that do what they please). They have been in Nico’s cabin together several times over the last few weeks.

Never before has Will come over without some kind of stated purpose.

At least, not and absence he has made so obvious. True, the renovations took longer than expected, and the paint on the east wall is smudged from where Nico shoved Will, shrieking, off the stepstool, and they have perhaps, on occasion, used Nico’s illegal Wii when they were meant to be helping Annabeth make plans for Capture the Flag, but —

But.

Intent.

Is important.

It has been made abundantly clear to Nico over the summer that he has friends upon which he can rely. Reyna has made a point to Iris Message him at whatever Roman tryhard time she believes he should be awake, prompting an attempted murderous shadow travel that left him unconcious in Missouri and at the unfortunate end of many people’s shouting. And Will’s friends, who can perhaps at this point be called his friends also, have created a game entitled “How Many Grapes Can We Flick At Nico During Lunch Before He Goes Ballistic And Sends Us To Purgatory For A Little While” (four), which they are inclined and inspired to play every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday. Piper enjoys dragging him around to do Things. Jason is just around constantly. (Does he sleep? Nico should check on that properly.)

He had a point, somewhere. He’s sure he did.

It was maybe the impending anxiety attack, helpfully informs Brain Nico.

“Ah,” regular Nico replies, then grapples around for his least favourite pillow, slams it into his face, and screams at the top of his lungs for several minutes.

Brain Nico decides once again that commentary is the way.

I think we are an all powerful demigod of something, he muses. Dirt, maybe? Bad vibes? I can’t quite remember.

“The dead?” inquires regular Nico.

Do you think those years isolated in the Labyrinth perhaps situated us firmly on the shores of mentally unwell? responds he, blissfully unhelpful.

“I think that was Tartarus, actually,” says regular Nico, and promptly banishes his brain self to the deepest recesses of his mind, among memories of the taste of liquid fire and Calculus.

With the remaining, functioning (well.) part of his brain, he places both palms on the cool floor and attempts to focus.

Juicy Fruit It gets right to ya Juicy salt Hmmm Juicy Fruit, The taste the taste that’s —

For the love of all holy things, Nico begs his brain. It doesn’t work, but what ever really goes right in his life, so he pushes past the increasingly louder replays of eighties commercial jingles and maps out the ground below the cabin floor, pushes through the layers of underground.

Ah. Perfect.

He pulls up the very aptly placed skeleton of a cat, letting it scratch and sniff about his cabin before cautiously approaching him.

“You will be sure to tell it to me straight,” Nico says solemnly, holding out his hand. The cat bobs its nasal cavities in and out of Nico’s fingers and, apparently deciding him to be worthy of its attention, rams its skull against his knuckles. Nico snorts, running a fingernail along its cranial sutures and grinning as its purring echoes in his mind. “You seem very wise.”

The cat’s caudal vertebrae rattle in indignation, miffed at the mere idea that it could be anything other than wise. Nico is honestly quite impressed by its ability to glare without actual eyeballs, eyelids, or thought power.

“I am going to name you after my sister and pray that’s not weird,” Nico says. “I mean, I don’t think she would mind. You’re pretty cool, actually, and Hazel’s cool, kind of, so. Win win.”

Hazel the Cat seems unbothered by her christening, curling up in Nico’s lap. He runs his hand from cranial base to coccyx, finger dipping and bumping along the ridges of her spines, and settles against the cool floor, attempting to breathe evenly.

“It’s just.” He swallows. It takes a try or two, to work around the massive stone borrowed in his throat, and Hazel the Cat nips playfully at his fingers until his lungs settle again. “Before we had something to do, you know? We’d be cutting bandages, and he’d be all, hey, did you know bandages are mentioned in one of the first ever medical manuscripts and definitely predate it by many hundreds of years, and I would say I did, actually, I talked to the guy who made that clay tablet, and his eyes would get all wide and he’d be like no way, tell me everything, and then I would just talk forever.” Nico huffs. “We had something to talk about, you understand. Something to do.”

Nico tries to imagine what Hazel his Sister would say. Probably something along the lines of you are an impossible person, which is code for I have about as much luck as you do in this century, pal, the best I’ve got is hope for the best and remember adults no longer smack you for standing wrong. Which. Fair.

Hazel the Cat just purrs in his head again. It’s as encouraging as anything, he supposes.

“Am I supposed to have…conversation starters? He likes twizzlers and intentionally bad poetry. Maybe I could do something with that?”

Hazel the Cat shrugs at him.

“It’s not even — okay, it’s not just that, though. What is — how close is close enough in a casual setting? Or too close? How am I meant to greet him? Am I supposed to offer something? Make something? What do I do if there’s a lull in conversation? Or if it’s all lulls? Oh, gods, how much silence is socially appropriate —”

Hazel the Cat twists in his hold, meeting his eyes as if to say well I don’t think you’ll be struggling with that last one.

“Shush,” he tells her, but his mouth is twitching. “I’m just — I don’t want him to finally realize I’m weird. Or boring, gods. He’s such a hyper person, you know? He never stops. And I am supposed to entertain him! I think!”

This time he can actually hear his sister’s voice, in the back of his mind — you’re such a dummy. Ringed with fondness from the many times she’s said it to him, shoulders nudged carefully together, head knocked gently against his. You are weird and boring. Most people are.

“Ugh,” he sighs, tipping his head back until it rests against the mattress. “Friendship is hard work.”

Hazel the Cat swishes her tail, rattling the discs of bone like a rattlesnake. It’s a surprisingly soothing sound, like rain pinging softly against his window, or the flutter of the poplar trees outside of his father’s palace. Unconsciously he matches his breathing to it, slowing until it’s even, gentle, deep. His eyes, without any direction from his brain, drift until they blanket his hazy eyes, heavy as stone..

“S’not that serious,” he murmurs to himself, soothed under the weight of his feline friend. “S’just Will, I guess.” A beat. He smiles, slightly, a small, curling thing, mimicking the coiled heat in his belly. “It’s just Will.”

———

part two

[koiir]

SWEETEST LOVER

Blue lock boys who are the BEST lovers ( I’m bias) Relationships with them { not proofread }

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ Chigiri, hiori, reo, isagi, kurona

CHIGIRI H.

Chigiri is the definition of “best friend and partner” he’s rather open to you (having known for years) and also being the person who’s the best boyfriend you can could ask for.

The advice he gives is one of harsh criticism yet the most truthful, many would be surprised by how blunt he can be with you although it shows in how he cares and truly only wants the best for you. If opening your eyes with a hard truth will help then he will take that route.

Although of course, he isn’t heartless. He comforts you with a warm smile, heart beating at how attentive he becomes with you. Giving you the princess treatment one would die for. He knows comfort can differ in various ways, so he will always try and communicate on what you need.

I feel as though chigiri struggles with communication concerning his wants, so he tries to grow in order to be the best version of himself he can give you. Yet there will be moments where this can “problem” can arise and he will always realize his faults.

Other than that, his knack for his wellbeing swells into you as well. Hair is rather important for the guy, so when he comes to you with a grin about a new hair secret, expect a days worth of hair care. The two of you are seen as rather “gossipers” yet you two just find anything and everything interesting. Really, anything with chigiri can turn into an interesting conversation. Thus making him an amazing boyfriend and best friend in one<33 ( I could go on about him but I’ll save that for later)

HIORI Y.

SO UNDERRATED I LUV HIORI. Ugh he’s the sweetest I mean cmonnn…

With his already calm and polite demeanor, falling in love with him is that of a warm spring that flourishes into a bond greater than words can say.

A quick learner, can easily pick up your moods and will give it his all for you! Very much a giver and will cherish whatever you give him, hiori becomes emotional seeing how much you give to him, already viewing your love the best thing he could every ask for.

From his childhood, he was told he was loved, although feeling it would come and go. Yet when you come into the picture, it’s as if he experiences the feeling of being loved for the first time ever. His past one of hallow that now with you, it beams with hope and joy, making him the more doting on you with showing how much he truly cherishes what you have given to him.

The type of guy who would let you drag him anywhere, as his face is filled with adoration for you, soft smile evident as he lets your body take the lead as he follows you to no end. Out and about, would definitely rub your wrist gently before crossing the street whispering a faint “be careful” that causes your heart to race in seconds.

Can’t forgot how he would definitely, want you to game with him. Even if you don’t he finds a way for you to be near or engage with him. Whether that be you seated next to him or him lying across you, the peace hiori has in being close to you is infinite. A safe space he never wishes to let go of.

Seems squishy (don’t ask)

ISAGI Y.

GREEN FLAG I REPEAT ULTIMATE GREEN FLAG. Might be bias but cmon it’s isagi

The boyfriend who literally will do ANYTHING you wish for (as long as it’s reasonable ofc) Follows you around like a lovesick puppy as he comments on places he thinks you would like or you two should go to. Will love to get stuff where it compliments the other, almost as if something that matches.

He once asked you what you were going to wear and showed up with a similar color combo, mind you he bought you two the same shoes for days where you want to match.

The kind of guy who will hold eye contact whenever you talk, even if you can’t hold it with him because of how intense his gaze is. He will continue looking at you as id you’re all he can stare at. How can someone make you flustered without anything at all?? That’s isagi for you

Isagi is someone you admire, someone you learn from even as you two grow in the relationship. His kind heart giving you the courage to try new things as he supports you all the way, words of encouragement making a hue of light shine in your life.

Overall, a loving caring guy who always has your back and a cutie

BACHIRA M.

Bachira just like anyone has his…quirks. Although nothing severe to the point of destruction or hurting you. If anything he’s the most loyal and treats you with such care, fearing that one day you might perish or realize he’s not so called normal.

His insecurities one that you know from the beginning, tending the wounds he has held from years of the past. His reluctance to thank you with the best he can give you, his affection and loyalty to you one of scarce of losing you. He can’t fathom this, you with him. Together. So it’s only natural he wishes to show you what others cannot see.

There’s never a dull moment with him, his vibrant persona melting into you as you intoxicate in the newfound confidence he gives you. Bachira is the type to move you out of your comfort zone, making a break to see you in a new light that he’s lucky enough to see and be the cause for.

His affection spreads throughout every aspect, in public he resembles a dog that clings onto its owner that holds eyes filled with adoration.

His warm hands allowing for yours to bask in his warmth, feeling more as he squeezes yours and grins from ear to ear viewing your flushed expression. “There’s that face I adore oh so much!”

Eyes wander to your figure as bachira sees the shiver in your figure, cold winds swirling around causing you to feel the cold sensation of the winds. His embrace eternal, fitting like a puzzle as he snuggles up behind you swaying your bodies side to side. The norm would be teasing words, yet for now he embraces the delight with you in his arms.

Ah bachira

KURONA R.

Cutest boy I mean cmon he has shark teeth

No matter the time being, kurona can’t fathom that you’re truly his, his mornings being filled with a lovesick smile at the thought of you.

His teeth hold many stories, the most memorable being how insecure he is because of them, smile showing less due to this fact. But the day you tell him to smile, hands on his cheeks as you gaze into his eyes, the crack in his lips breaking as he smiles at you softly.

It’s only natural for kurona to want to be the reasons for your smiles, indulging in what will make your smile come to fruition so he can also gift you with his smile.

His adoration for sharks weaves into you, no matter what he makes a correlation between you. Expect matching trinkets of any shark related item. Plushies that greet you in a pair that hold eachother, his lips spilling the words of “look, it’s us”

What may come to a surprise is his ability to make you swoon with his words, maybe not directly, but on paper. The reassurance kurona needs is spilled onto messages late at night, showing his vulnerability on text because he cannot bear with how you might respond. He knows you would comfort him, although he knows his heart will experience speed to limits unknown.

So when morning dew comes and you wake up with his messages, your heart grows fond seeing just how much the boy wants you to know, his heart is all yours and he wishes to hold it for the eternity to come.

a/n; MONTHSS of not posting anything…prob cause I’m almost out of school and have inspo

edit; guys I’m sorry reo wasn’t added my ass was just tired after writing for bachira😞

[quinnylouhughesx43]

“I think I’m in love”

Summary: Trevor is having a hard time being away from you while he is with Team USA for the Men’s World Championship. Seeing his teammates and crossing paths with other teams with their significant others only intensifies all his feelings.

Warnings: use of pet names (babe, baby), angst, worry/anxiety, overthinking, fluff, I think that’s it

Word Count: 1.34K

It had only been 72 hours since Trevor had left the United States and he was truly miserable. He felt as if every where he looked when he was off the ice there was a couple. It was nearly impossible to not run into someone he knew from the league, just to be introduced to their significant other. “Seriously since when did everyone had their significant other with them.” Trevor asked Matt Boldy as he laced up skate. “Trevor, I think you’re over reacting. It just seems that way to you because your girl isn’t here.” Matt stands to walk off to the ice. Trevor shakes off his thoughts, or tries to shake off his thoughts.

Trevor wasn’t playing well, his focus was off. His heart really wasn’t in it at all. Cole and Luke had taken notice of how he was struggling and were off talking on the side in between drills.

“Do you think this has something to do with his girlfriend?” Luke asked Cole watching Trevor completely miss Brady for the passing drill. “I’m sure it does. I noticed him watching different couples when we were eating last night. I had to remind him it’s rude to stare. I also noticed Z hasn’t smiled like normal since we got here.” Luke couldn’t answer Cole as Trevor skated up and it was their turn to skate. Trevor’s head was lost in his thoughts when Coach dismissed practice. “Let’s go Z! We’re done” Luke yelled out.

After changing and heading back to the hotel the three boys were piled up in Trevor’s room. “Alright man talk. What’s going on with you? You look like you lost your long time pet or something.” Cole said flopping on his back next to Trevor. “I just miss her a lot. She couldn’t or wouldn’t come for some reason. And I’m worried we will grow apart. And, and” Trevor started to stutter over his words. Feeling a knot in this throat forming. Tears forming in his eyes. The pain in his chest that he wrote off as acid reflux earlier started hurting a bit more when his heart raced harder. “And what?” Luke pushed.

“God. I think I’m in love with her and I didn’t tell her. She doesn’t know.”

“What do you mean she doesn’t know?” Cole and Luke ask at the same time. The two boys share a look with each other then look back at Trevor. Trevor shrugs as if it should be the most obvious answer. “We haven’t told each other yet. She’s different you guys. I want to take care of her and provide for her. I look at her and I think about a future. A future where I don’t live in an apartment with in walking distance from the arena I practice and play in. It’s a future where I live in a house big enough for however many children she wants. With a yard so those kids can play outside instead of always being stuck inside. I don’t think about when I can get her naked in my bed. Actually she’s never been naked in my bed. I’ve never seen her naked. But for fuck sake I am in love with her.”

Trevor ran his hands through his hair and exhaled.

“I have never been this serious about anyone. I will go to hell and back for her. I think I am already in hell being this far away from her but that’s besides the point.” The last part earned a laugh out Cole and Luke. The two boys completely baffled by Trevor’s admission about his feelings for his girlfriend. He has always been an open book about most things but never about his feelings.

“Trev, I think it’s time to be honest with her. You need to let her know how important she is to you before she feels neglected.” Cole says giving Trevor a firm grip on his shoulder. “It’s late, we’re going to head out and get rest for tomorrow. Think about telling her and how you want to tell her before you just call her and yap it out there. If she’s endgame, plan it out.” Cole gives Trevor a quick hug before heading out of the room. Trevor feels better letting it all out but he can’t help but mope in loneliness, wondering what you’re doing back home.

While listening to Trevor, Cole was working magic. He had already purchased you a ticket through the US Hockey foundation for a flight. Explaining how down Trevor has been in just the last 72 hours and that he believed you could potentially be the cure all. You were shocked. Confused at best. You kept asking Cole if Trevor had put him up to it. Cole kept assuring you that Trevor has no idea that you have a flight out in the next couple of hours. He asked you, more like begged you, to not say anything to him either. By the time Cole got you your ticket and you had woken up you had 5 hours to pack and get to the airport to be on time for security.

As you were getting ready to turn your phone off Trevor’s face illuminates the screen. He was calling. You quickly decline and shut the phone off. ‘Better safe than sorry’ you tell yourself as your boarding the plane.

When you didn’t answer and then the next calls for the next 14-15 hours. Trevor’s mind was reeling the worry he felt set in deep making him sick, he needed a trash can multiple times. He couldn’t focus anything a while the team was at practice. Trevor ended up leaving practice early from being so sick and his inability to focus on anything. He isn’t one to really leave early, usually he would ride the bench until the end of practice but he couldn’t make himself do it. His anxiety over your safety was much too high. The panic was really starting to set in now that he was alone. Trevor had started thinking of all the possibilities of what could have happened.

1) You had starting ghosting him, he was gone and you realized you didn’t want him.

2) You were in the hospital for some reason or another.

3) Your ex-boyfriend came back around.

He was beside himself with all the thoughts running through his mind. Trevor laid curled up in a ball. Physically sick, a few tears shed, worrying over your well-being when there was a knock on his door.

“Guys I’m really not in a place for—“

“Baby?” Trevor’s voice cracked just as it did when he was going through puberty.

His knees buckled and he all but collapsed down on to his knees wrapping his arms tightly around your waist. “Babygirl. I love you so fucking much. I don’t know how you’re here but I’m glad that you are. I was… I was so worried something happened to you or you were leaving me when you didn’t answer your phone. I just. Fuck. I love you. I’m sorry I never said it before now.” Trevor still on his knees down in front of you, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

“T. You..you love me?” You choked out wearing a huge smile on your face. He looks up at you from where he is at on the floor. “Yes baby. Today, tomorrow. Next week, the rest of your life if you’ll let me.” His eyes shining from new tears threatening the fall as your tears weren’t stopping. “T stand up so I can kiss you silly boy.” He quickly followed what you said. Grabbing his cheeks softly and pulling his face to your’s until his lips are just close enough to touch when you speak. “Trevor Zegras, I love you more than you understand.” He groaned in response pulling you into his room. Before the outside world could be forgotten Cole had to run and yell “you’re welcome Zegras” from the room door until he was acknowledged. All Trevor wants to do is lay in bed holding his precious girl, and tell her how incredibly grateful he is that she is there in Ostrava. He can’t wait to have his chance to show her off to everyone tomorrow.

authors note: hi I’ve been sitting on this for a while. I didn’t have a chance to finish the ending for a while and I didn’t go back and read over the actual story part so if it’s bad I’m sorry don’t hate me don’t judge me it’s been like a month

[ankiebitez]

Mpreg with kings? I think mammon can lactate with those big milkers

Whb kings pregnant

gn mc, no warnings really except mentions of pregnancy and slight mentions of nsfw

note: not gonna lie i dont know much about mpreg so this is really short and mostly just thoughts on how i think the kings would act while pregnant lmao, i tried though but i really have like no idea how to write mpreg 😭

more under the cut

Satan

definitely wants kids, ghenna has the most romantic demons so its no surprise that he wants to start a family with you

he would be the best dad when they're born, but while he's pregnant he is probably the second to worst

mood swings, constantly. he's constantly pissed off and very protective of you even though he's the one who's pregnant. think about how animal moms get territorial when they have babies and that is 100% him

i feel like his depression would also get a bit worse bc pregnancy hormones are hell

he's so happy to be having your kid though

Mammon

handling it really well honestly. he's very gentle and cautious for you and the baby now, he doesn't want to hurt either of you and will protect you by any means

his greed has gotten a bit more powerful too because now he has both of his greatest treasures

buying the best of the best stuff for the baby, clothes, a crib, toys, etc. that baby is going to be spoiled when they're born.

you try to say that a baby probably cant use solid gold toys but he just said that since the baby is half demon and part of him they'll naturally be strong enough

honestly he might be right because when the baby starts "kicking" in his belly you swear it looked like a imprint of a version of his gold fists

now you understand why its the demons that get pregnant instead of the human.

his titties somehow get bigger while he's pregnant too

Beelzebub

pregnancy cravings. he will crave the weirdest shit you've ever heard of. and in the biggest portions you could imagine. you'd think he was eating for 300 instead of 2

he actually doesn't wander as much while pregnant since he wants to protect you and the baby, though he does still dissappear out of nowhere sometimes much to baels dismay

he gets sick and nauseous pretty often though in the later months. you know the phrase butterflies in your stomach? well he just gets flies in his stomach since the baby is too young to control that power yet. kind of horrifying tbh but he's handling it okay

right after the baby is born bael locks down the entire palace until you get beelzebub pregnant again. his argument is that its the only way to keep beel in avisos

Leviathan

he is the actual worst. he doesn't just get mood swings he is constantly pissed off while pregnant. would probably also be the type to cry while pissed off for no reason while in private.

hangs anyone in hades for the smallest things. shoes untied? hang. came to talk to him while he's in a bad mood? hang. breathed too hard? hang.

very very protective of you and the baby. no ones allowed to even look at you or his baby bump at this point. even when the babborn no one is allowed to hold them besides you two. they're not even allowed within 6 feet

he gets the baby the most beautiful stuff for their nursery though.

he also feels very prideful while pregnant, knowing that many of the other kings and demons are jealous that he's the one having your child. he's feeding off their envy

Lucifer

he is handling it the best out of everyone. you wouldn't even be able to tell he's pregnant if it weren't for the baby bump.

he was very skeptical about having a child though especially during this war. much less with the descendant of solomon. nonetheless, he is happy to be having a child.

stays in paradise lost the whole time unless absolutely necessary. he will not let anyone harm you or his child

still doesn't talk much, and stays in his garden most of the time to relax. you are welcome to come and sit with him though as long as you're quiet. he does get a bit more agitated by a lot of noise

the seraphim are seething and will definitely try to attack you more often though. they see you as evil incarnate for not only making lucifer sin but also getting him pregnant. lucifer wont have any of that

[bitchcakegreen]

I finally watched all four episodes of season 3 part 1 and I have thoughts, as a fan and as a screenwriter/former romance novelist, and professional director. I didn’t have netflix but I got it for this season. I did this kinds of analyzations and such during Game of Thrones. Hopefully people enjoy reading. Full disclosure, I have not read any of the Bridgerton books. (I’m about three chapters into Romancing Mr. Bridgerton)

First off, give me all the Pen and Colin all the time. I’ve been hoping they get together from season 1 and I’m so happy Shondaland didn’t make us wait another season, as the books go in a different order. There’s a lot of subtle nuance to Pen and Colin’s scenes, Colin always seeking out Pen wherever they are, the tent pastry scene followed by Colin clearly eating the same pastry as Pen did. The tent scene was freaking hot. I said what I said. Things of this nature make their love affair so lush. It’s that journey to getting to the carriage scene that’s so thrilling.

I didn’t mind Francesca’s subplot or the Mondrich one but I do agree with many I’ve seen here that the subplots almost took over. There was a lot of emphasis placed on things other than Pen and Colin which annoyed me somewhat. Hopefully when we get to part 2 there will be more intense focus on Polin and the subplots are just rotating around them because right now, with the pacing of these first four episodes, it’s the opposite. Polin feel as if they are somewhat an afterthought.

The Cressida redemption movement I don’t think will last into part 2. I think all this work is to try and make the audience sympathize with her and then when she goes after Pen, Pen as Lady D, and so forth we are supposed to think “OH! But she was being so nice.” Hopefully I’m wrong and they follow through on her storyline because if they don’t…they wasted a lot of time and storyline on her instead of focusing on Polin.

I’m ambivalent about Lord Debling, so meh. Sorry about it.

Anthony and Kate - absolutely unnecessary but I know why they brought them in. One, he is the Viscount so he would be around. Two, they are fan favorite. I get it. I accept it. It was just wasted real estate for me. But to each their own.

I love Mr. Finch and I LOVED he got to be such a beaming brother-in-law for Pen in the green dress. I do wish they hadn’t shown us the dress reveal in the trailer. It would have been such an awestruck moment for us to see it first in the show. Sweeping cape removal and glittering loveliness.

Pen’s sisters and their race to get pregnant. It’s all a setup for Pen to be pregnant first or with the male heir by the end of the season. Cute but really long winded in getting there. There is a now since deleted promo clip of Pen, with Colin standing behind her, where she takes his hand and places it on her stomach. So we’re getting a pregnancy nod somewhere next part. May even be why she faints in whatever scene they show in the trailer for part 2.

Eloise needs to get her head out of her butt. I don’t think she’s angry Pen is LW but more angry that she didn’t figure out Pen was Whistledown sooner. She’s mad that Pen didn’t try to see her during the offseason, yet she tells her at the end of season 2 to get the fuck out of her life. Get it together Eloise. I love Eloise, don’t get me wrong, I adore her. I just want her to stop acting like an ass and TALK to Pen.

There is discourse about the second Colin threesome scene, but there really shouldn’t be. There’s a reason for it. It showcases that Colin is done with the charade he’s been playing all season. He isn’t the bon vivant, dashing rake he’s supposed to be. It’s jarring but it’s a scene with a purpose.

All the Polin scenes are delightful. The balloon scene might be my favorite - the pastry scene I include in this. And of course the first kiss and the carriage scene (which lives in my head on repeat) but I have to say, I wanted more Polin screen time. I think if we spliced all the Polin scenes together we see that out of four hours of film, they have maybe a cumulative 1 hour of screen time. Which isn’t much for a couple that is the lead of the season. Hopefully the ratio will be better in part two.

Merit badges and raises to the Featherington coachmen and to Pen’s maid Rae. They are MVPs and are totally gossiping about Polin. You know that tea was flowing in the servant’s quarters about the carriage ride…

Scenes I hope we get in part 2.

1. Full on sexfest with Pen and Colin, the likes to rival Daphne and Simon.

2. Whistledown reveal to Colin. First I want him angry - that passionate angry we use in romance novels. The kind where the hero is always “I’m so mad at you right now I can’t see straight but I need you writhing with passion underneath me screaming my name RIGHT NOW!” kind of angry. I want ripped corsets and torn skirts. If you know you know.

3. Pen and Eloise make up.

4. Big stupid lavish wedding.

5. More unhinged Queen Charlotte wigs. Because reasons.

Sorry this was such a long post, but I needed to get my thoughts out. Thanks for reading if you made it this far. Now excuse me while I go watch part 1 elevenity million more times.

[shakingparadigm]

it makes me very sad that we never seem to get till's perspective on the story... his rs with mizi is so underexplored when it literally constitutes a core aspect of his character (and this in turn lead to some uncharitable interpretations by those who want ivans love to be requited and well, the fandom in general), we barely even know abt his dynamics with other characters besides Ivan (and even that isnt told through his eyes), his past is just visible through glimpses etc. there's just so. Little about him. And yet he's such an interesting and complex little guy, i really really hope now that king yaoi the third's arc has concluded, we finally get some till crumbs bc im starving. or maybe the authors just downright hate him lmao

I've thought about this for quite a while!

I agree! Unlike the rest of the cast, Till doesn't have his own content where he states his thoughts and emotions (like Mizi's monologue, the Hyuna and Luka comic, Ivan's confession comic, the Mizisua interview + all other interviews). In many pieces of official art, Till is either a supporting character or comic relief, rarely in the focus. Although we saw a bit of him in the contents leading up to (and the few arts after) ROUND 6, ultimately they were centered on Ivan.

We've yet to hear from Till himself, to understand his thoughts from his own words and not from the perspective of other characters. On the rare occasion the focus is on him, it's devoted to his adoration for Mizi.

His relationship with Mizi underexplored... I mean, it is, but I feel that was intentional. Despite all his attachment to Mizi, he never actually managed to get close to her (although he spent a majority of his childhood trying). The goodbye letters reveal Till's regret at this fact, and from other pieces of content we can see that he was always too shy and afraid to approach her. His love for Mizi seems shallow and underdeveloped because, well, that's kind of just how it is. He's in love with the image of her he admired from afar. It's puppy love to the highest degree, but you know how humans in ALNST are. They'd completely break themselves down for love.

Funnily, this all seems in character for Till. We don't get to hear his thoughts because he's too rebellious for an interview. His most significant presence in the comics are when they are Ivan-centered, we lack his perspective because the moment always matters more to Ivan than it does to Till. His relationship with Mizi is underdeveloped because he himself has an underdeveloped understanding of her.

Okay, I know I keep going on about "oh we never get to hear Till's side!", but I acknowledge the fact that with Till, they seem to be going with a more "show, not tell" angle. We can't gauge how his thought process works through monologue, but the little things he does can say a lot about him (Crying over his lost recorder, a gift from Mizi. Picking fights when flowers are treated cruelly. Encouraging a wilting flower to keep surviving). He's not one for long monologues anyway, Till follows his heart through passionate action. Still, I really hope to one day have a comic narrated by him, something to put us in his perspective.

And on the last note, don't even worry about the authors hating him! I find it so funny to hear that, actually. QMENG and VIVINOS adore Till. He's actually QMENG's favorite! They love him so much they inserted themselves into a meme fangirling over him.

That's them right there. For their baby boy. Anyways, hopefully we can learn more about Till now that he's the only survivor left in the competition to face Luka. Apparently, they've had ROUND 7 planned for a really long time now. Both excited and nervous to see how it goes!

[roomwithanopenfire]

Six Sentence Sunday

Happy Sunday everyone!! Thanks for the tags @blackberrysummerblog and @artsyunderstudy!!

This week I’ve done the big three: writing, editing, and ignoring my wips, with perhaps a bit more of the last one than I’d like. Most of my writing this week has been for an exchange fic for a different fandom, which I finally finished the rough draft of. Cue the celebration. However, even if I wanted to share anything from that, I can’t, it must remain hush-hush, but I am getting pretty excited to share it (and way more excited about receiving my own exchange fic back, this whole thing is very fun).

I’ve written less than 300 words on my COBB this week, and none of them are good, but I have gotten some editing done of Proof of Life. I can’t share any more snippets of the next chapter though because I’ve shared too much already. So instead, I figured I’d do a bit of a process post this time around, because I always love reading those. Check that out under the cut! (and i'm sorry this is long, i still have not learned brevity)

So my editing process isn’t too crazy, and is brought to you almost entirely by google docs comments. I also use the word ‘editing’ very loosely to encompass rewriting, revising, and proofreading. Sometimes editing means completely rewriting a scene/section, sometimes it just means switching around a couple of words or cleaning up a sentence. 

Mostly, I try not to take everything so seriously, because I know that I could edit something forever and ever and never post it if I let myself get too carried away. So I try to keep everything pretty chill. So here’s my steps I go through for each chapter that I edit. 

Step One: Reread the whole chapter. While I do this, I’ll leave comments on big picture things. “Maybe move this scene into the next chapter” or “The dialogue in this scene feels stilted” but I don’t add a lot of comments at this point. Once I’m done with this I’ll copy over any comments I had on the first draft or the beta reader copy over into the ‘draft two’ document. 

Step Two: COMMENTS. Again, my fics are brought to you by google doc comments. I like to go through from the bottom up, reading scene by scene and leaving comments on pretty much every single sentence. 

A lot of the time (read: most of the time) these are really vague like:

And sometimes these are more detailed like:

And occasionally these are compliments

Step Three: Once the whole chapter is filled with comments, I go through scene by scene (in whatever order speaks to me), and rewrite, edit, or fix sections. This part I find really fun, because I’m taking parts that aren’t good yet and I’m making them better. I love fixing things and getting rid of all the comments. It typically ends up being a lot of  rewriting, but I always finish a scene feeling better about it then when I started.

For example, here’s the draft one vs. draft two version of a snippet from the first chapter of Proof of Life. This is one of the scenes I pretty much rewrote. Others look a lot more similar to their original versions.

Original:

Edited:

Step Four: Then before I post a chapter, I’ll read through the whole thing and sometimes find smaller bits to fix. Then I’ll run it through a grammar checker and ignore half of their suggestions in the name of ✨style ✨.

Overall, I feel like I have a pretty basic editing strategy and I’m really pleased with it. Even though sometimes I feel like more robust edits would make everything way better, it’s a good mix of fixing things but not spending too much time on it. I remember I spent like a month on editing the very first fic I posted at that was only 6k words. If I kept doing that for everything, I'd never post anything at all. With fanfiction, I know that y'all will be nice to me even though it's never perfect <333

Tags and Hellos!! (I'm unsure if we still need the spaces, but i've been burned too many times lol)

@you-remind-me-of-the-babe @m1ndwinder @facewithoutheart @run-for-chamo-miles @raenestee

@onepintobean @prettygoododds @noblecorgi @hushed-chorus @angelsfalling16

@thewholelemon @monbons @shrekgogurt @brendughh @hertragedyconnoisseur

@beastmonstertitan @valeffelees @horsesarenotdeer @drowninginships @supercutedinosaurs

@fiend-for-culture @rimeswithpurple @cutestkilla @alexalexinii @ileadacharmedlife

@arthurkko @rbkzz @skeedelvee @bookish-bogwitch @brilla-brilla-estrellita

[cripplecharacters]

Hiya, I'm hoping you can help me understand if an idea I have is problematic. I'm writing a fantasy novel at the moment where the main character (who is overcome by guilt for something she did by accident), undergoes a ritual to make herself look as awful as she thinks she is. I'm not 100% sure on the details of what this looks like yet, but at the moment I'm considering something like having the bones of small animals embedded under her skin. Running out of text so will continue in another ask.

Continued from first ask. The idea is that she wants people to be disgusted when they see her, because she can't tell anyone about the accident she caused, but still wants to feel punished. I'm partly inspired by my own experiences of self harm, of wanting to see a visual representation of pain. I'm wondering if this kind of disfigurement is problematic, especially considering it's not reflecting a real condition and that its not a villain. Any insight would be greatly appreciated!

Hi dearest asker!

It doesn't mimic anything of a disability nor is it a fantasy disability in your setting so I think it's good! It is more Body Horror than anything but what I would do is while you're figuring the aspect of the character, is research extensively and make sure it doesn't align with any real conditions. This does kinda balance on the edge of Disability As Punishment because of just the concept, but using your own experiences is what matters here!

Also here is a good post about body horror and disability that makes some good points and has good ideas too!

I actually want to reiterate from the post on how they cite stuff like Junjo Ito and Kafka on a way of expression though Body Horror which (to my understanding, if not feel free to correct me) is like you're doing. Others I would recommend is Frida Kahlo, where she does this in some of her paintings (Here & Here) and in many others.

Other movies like Swan Lake (2010) and Annihilation (2018), also take this concept and do really well with it in my opinion. (Both centered around self-harm and other things) Pain Exhibit is a non-profit online library where people who are disabled or have chronic pain all share their artwork depicting it and is another great example.

This article What Is Body Horror? makes so many good points and it cites a lot of good books, novels, and short stories. It goes into the different aspects of it and really breaks it down into sections. (I want to warn before anyone clicks on that link that it talks about extensive body horror in details). A lot of people's perception of Body Horror has long been associated with people with disabilities. So I think more stories written on actual depictions of what is and people's personal experiences it is so good!

Happy writing! (and I hope the story goes well it sounds really good!)

~ Mod Virus 🌸

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

letting out a slow breath bc ur girl has finished both myths within like the span of a week, and we all know this post was inevitable. bc is she going to overanalyze? yes. is she going to overthink every little line on the basis of picking apart a character's mind? yes!

(bear with me and my xavier thoughts for a sec guys ✋)

i'll be less lore-heavy and more introspection-heavy, but as lighthearted as lumiere's myth story seems on the surface, i can't be the only one who got all sad about it, right? 😭 xavier girlies you get me, right? 😭 it's not light light, right? 😭

like i knew from the start that xavier's complicated feelings about lumiere were going to be rooted deeply, but this? 😭 the way you can tell it goes WAY back? 😭

because. it does. it goes all the fucking way back.

because what do we know about xavier? his subtleties. in general, he has that calm, reserved, collected trope... it's more on the easygoing safe, like a safe presence, almost aloof in nature. but it's almost as if so much more hides underneath that; like it's not totally 100% inherently him, like it's not entirely natural, like the part of him that's like this is maybe somewhat a façade that he's been putting up for so long, so it's just ended up... becoming part of him, by force of habit.

like let's look at the other end of that calm, collected trope: zayne. why do we feel like it's naturally part of his personality to be that way? he's calm, he's collected, maybe a little cold—but he's confident. it's as if it's been established somehow that, yes, he is like this, and he knows that he is. he doesn't hold back with it, there are rarely moments he acts out of this persona in some surprising manner only to awkwardly slip back into it—at least, you'd have to think hard about it to find one.

like,, he's soft and sweet with mc? it comes along naturally; we say, yeah. that feels like something he'd do. he's caring and concerned for mc's wellbeing? again, natural; we say, of course. his profession allows him to put in that extra care and concern.

but it isn't always like that with xavier, is it? why is it that xavier surprises us? why is it so common for him to suddenly act a little different from what we know, and have it be so jarring to not even to just us, but to mc as well?

there are so many subtleties to the way he seems to try to express himself, but always finds himself short of doing it in the way he wants to. the push and pull with mc? the soft moments, only to step back and be distant? then the sudden forwardness in contrast? the jealousy? the devs even go so far as to put so much attention into giving him these microexpressions, that like—it always feels like they have so much meaning to them. his basic animations? the way his eyes would widen or soften, the slight tilt of his head, the little smile that grows, even the way he'd shake his head and look to the side? and his card animations? the eyebrow raise? the little frowns? the narrowing of eyes? the very slightest movements of his lips into a pout or a smile? hell, even the hesitation in his voice sometimes, or the tiniest inflections, they all seem to say so much.

it's just,,, it's those little things. microexpressions. involuntary emotional leakage. they last for a fragment of a second, but they're there. they're always there. and with xavier, they seem to always convey so much more than whatever words he can muster. like something's desperately trying to peek through this persona he's built for himself, that he's getting there, but he isn't quite there yet.

then, why is that?

several factors.

family, for one. his role, for one.

because at his core, he's always been the prince of philos. but he's also always distanced himself from that title, his family, at the same time.

and how does mc recognize xavier to be, the first time they meet?

trapped.

—"they say he doesn't live on campus because his family background is complicated, and many people have seen him surrounded by bodyguards."

—"they aren't clad in all black as one would expect, and they keep a respectable distance away from xavier. still, these people exude an air of oppression. xavier, with his bag, is at the center of their group. it seems he's used to being stared at. the only difference is that rather than being his usual expressionless self, he appears slightly upset."

—"'you appeared to be upset, so i thought you wanted to be free.'"

—"'i wish xavier is free to do what he wants.'"

he wants to strip away the one thing he has associated with himself enough to be his identity, because it's an identity he didn't choose. he wants nothing to do with it, nothing to do with the responsibilities his family pushes onto him if he can help it. it's been that way from the start—he doesn't want attention for it, doesn't want to make a big deal out of it, would rather not be associated with it at all.

and the first time he meets mc, it's a testament to how much freedom being with her gives him. she saves him from that oppression. he's allowed to be a little more himself; a little less tense, a little more aloof, a little more joke-y, maybe even a little teasing, just—someone who can smile, and laugh, and speak—genuinely—without finding the need to hold back in some way.

it even carries over to every timeline he meets her in.

but duty is the enemy of freedom.

and what is expected of a prince?

is it not to be calm, and rational, and composed? is it not to be gentle, and kind? patient, caring? just, but to be able to prioritize his people—his potential future subjects—over just the one person he loves?

there's another line from his anecdote that stands out: "it's not that i like it. it's the only thing i've been good at since i was a child."

maybe he's fallen into practice enough with these habits, and these mannerisms, for some of these things to become part of him—again, by force of habit. but these are still qualities of an identity he never asked for. it's identity foreclosure: these identities, habits, skills; they were given. granted. forced upon him to learn. he's expected to be the heir to the throne, and he doesn't have much of a say in the matter... so it just. grows on him, despite his resignations about it. he has no choice but to allow his identity to be centered on this very role, these very expectations.

so much so that even escaping such a role, even abandoning philos as a whole, doesn't allow him to escape the identity he's built around it.

another factor? everything that's happened in the time before our current timeline.

because what does he maintain? a leadership position; captain of the backtrackers. a profession relating to combat; evol police, then a deepspace hunter. lumiere.

and he's retained certain things, too, like his more quiet nature, and the calmness that we've seen from him throughout...

and that's exactly the thing.

he's gone through so many identities. lived so many lives, for all the years that he has been living.

yet certain things remain constant;

and still, certain things threaten to break through from that shell that he can't quite let free so easily.

it's shocking, the first time we see him angry: the shining light card. it's shocking, the first time we see him more forward with his advances: kind words, tender nights. maybe, even a little shocking the first time we see him so easily jealous over jeremiah, even moreso over his own persona.

and again, we go back to that hesitation—the fact that he can't seem to express himself properly. because it's either he's incredibly awkward about it, or he just falls short of conveying what he wants to.

he has trouble being honest about his feelings, for example—difficulties in telling mc he loves her, difficulties in being direct to the point with her. he'd dodge her questions, be vague about things... he could never tell mc, as lightseeker, that the star tassle was from her in her past llife.

and:

the uncertainty in his actions speaks volumes, because he's sure of what he wants, but he can't seem to understand how to convey it properly.

it's like he's just so used to being princely, that he can't let go of it even if he isn't a prince anymore. he wants to. but he hides so much beneath that exterior still, and it's mc who's able to help him tear down those walls—mc who's able to make him want to try harder to. it's mc who's able to bring out those lighthearted moments in some of his cards, who helps bring light to the goofier side of him that he doesn't seem to be able to show to anyone else. it's mc who gives him his freedom.

and, i think—xavier's jealousy is just deeply rooted into all of that.

with jeremiah, and with other men, because he's not able to be as direct with his feelings as he wants to be, when other people can easily do that. because she is his freedom.

"to reach for freedom is to give it up."

that he's said this says so much about how he views things—because perhaps, he's given up part of his freedom for her... only for her to become his freedom.

he gave up his freedom just to find solace in her, when he's never made the move to express that clearly to her—and as much as he struggles to be more forward in his advances, he's scared that someone else will do it before him. so he'd reach for her, and fear losing her because of doing that, with the fear of losing her if he doesn't, and it's just this... whole cycle that he's so unsure of. he doesn't know what he should do.

and then add to that the essence of who lumiere is.

because who is he? what do we know of him?

he's "handsome" and "gentle". he's saved mc, twice, and become a fixation for her because of that.

it's silly at first glance, for there to be any issue in this—xavier is lumiere. they are inherently the same person.

but lumiere is a reflection of the person xavier is trying to leave in the past.

perhaps out of all the personas and identities we've known xavier to have assumed on earth, lumiere is the closest to prince xavier. in his aura, actions, mannerisms, speech, everything.

it's too close to it.

and it's not who xavier is now.

it's not who he wants to be.

—"lumiere... it's a name that only represents a moment in time."

—"lumiere is a person who should disappear."

in all the time he's spent with mc, he's been learning to be more himself and less of the mask he's been conditioned to assume from a young age—only for her to fall back into fawning over this lumiere persona that isn't inherently him, isn't who he's trying to be.

he's less jealous of himself, and more of actis with the hesitation of—does she not love me if i slip off that mask? does she prefer me when i'm like that? is it always going to be prince xavier; is it always going to be lumiere?

he'd feel the freedom he finds in her slipping away.

he doesn't want that.

he wants a normal life with her, without all these obligations, all these responsibilities, all this stress,,,

and lumiere won't grant that to him.

he wants to leave it behind.

but that's the thing, because there's also something he doesn't quite understand about it.

because by now, he's had so many identities. he's fragmented, maybe; unsure of himself, a little lacking in the confidence of which part of him mc will truly love, especially after all this time. and maybe he's aware of that or maybe he's not, but—

even the most conflicting parts of us are still us. and the more we attempt to be who or what we are not, the more we remain the same.

the only way he'll move forward from all of this is to accept the fact that even "prince xavier", even "lumiere", are part of him—maybe parts of him he doesn't want, but that still contribute to him as a whole. and it's something xavier needs to realize for himself, something that no one has been able to help him with all this time. something he's been conditioned not to believe. something that hopefully, mc is able to help him through, as an integral part of the very minimal support system he has at all.

just,,, :( living all these lives, chasing after ghosts, for so damn long... it truly fucks with your brain :( and lumiere's event just??? i feel like it sheds so much light on that when you read between the lines and like god. i have OVERTHUNK THE FUCKKK out of this lmao 😭✋

but there's so much more to xavier that meets the eye, and i think that's why i love him so much :(

[georgiapeach30513]

Out of the Sea, Part 1

Summary: He needed your help, and you couldn't let him drown. Now that he's back he doesn't need your help, just you. Your body. Your everything. Both of you spent the years desiring and obsessing over the other. Now that you've reconnected you want to teach him the ways of the ocean, and he wants to teach you the ways of him. Will this be a matchmade in heaven or in sin?

Pairings: Ari Levinson X Reader

Rating: mild

Warnings:  language, brief depictions of drowning, naïve reader, dirty thoughts, naked reader, mentions of claiming, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 3.6K

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

“Boy!” The young boy flinches back away from the edge of the boat, staring back at a sun worn old man. Boat life had aged him far older than the years would suggest. “Don’t step close to the edge. Don’t you know what’s down there?”

Taking a step closer to the edge again, he peers down into the blackened water. He couldn’t fathom what could be in the depths of the ocean, much less this odd little place the man called Emerald Cove. “Aye! I said don’t step close to the edge. Do you swim?”

“No, sir.”

“Stupid boy. Your father is a right old git for sending you out here. If you fell in that water, you’d be gone. There is no saving you. Many a man has sunk straight down to the bottom, but it wasn’t because they couldn’t swim. You know what it was?” The young lad shakes his head no, and an odd feeling to peer back into the water comes over him. “I see it on your face, you hear it don’t you?”

“Hear what?” He asks sheepishly. His skin crawls, and he takes one timid step to the edge. Hearing isn’t exactly how he would describe it. It is more of a longing. Something is calling him towards the water.

“You’ve got that look to you. That itch. Usually they don’t claim one so young. There’s mermaids in these parts. They’re not beautiful creatures. They’re demons. Luring men to their watery grave. All those men that have drowned in that very water. It’s because they were chasing tail they weren’t meant to have. They like it here because the water is too deep. It hides them,” he isn’t sure what chasing tell is, but he knows that something is needing him to look in the water.

The old man was crazy and had seen far too many movies. That much the boy knew. There is no such thing as mermaids. It is just a ploy to get him to step away from the edge. He knows he should, but still something is edging him closer. It isn’t a sound. It isn’t an itch. It’s a need to see. “Go on, and look. I’ll be right here to keep you from falling overboard,” the man cackles and it sounds like he swallowed more than alcohol, but the entire bottle. Letting each shard of glass create scars that make his voice so scratchy and raw.

“Go on,” he urges yet again, and the boy takes a careful step closer. Every inch he gets closer, it feels better. Like part of him is being complete as he peers over the edge of the boat. He’d got on this rickety ship and pretended it was a pirate ship and he was held captive. But now all he wants is the water. The ship led him to where he needs to be, and it’s job is done. The water is all that matters now, well, more what is in the water.

Now his imagination takes him to a place of being made to walk the plank. Gazing into the water in the distance and realizing where it got its name from. Such brilliant shades of blue and turquoise mixing and making it appear like emeralds, but the where the boat resides is a blue so dark it gave the impression of being black. Letting his eyes focus on the darkness just below him, and he stares. Stares too hard that his eyes play tricks on him.

Staring too long, and at nothing. The old man was crazy. There is nothing but fish down there, maybe some sharks or dolphins. But mermaids didn’t exist. It was an old seaman’s tale to keep their men from jumping off the ship in a fit of delirium. Living at sea could make the best fisherman crazy.

Others were too scared to venture out here, and the captain knows this is the best place to fish because it hadn’t been pillaged by other fishermen already. He sees a glint of something not quite right. The light must have reflected off a fish’s scale oddly, but he leans over the boat. Gazing even harder. The fish had to be massive, and a color he hadn’t seen. Reflecting different shades of green and purple.

“Aye!” A rough hand lands on his shoulder, and he’s pulled back roughly. “Do you realize what you were about to do, boy?”

“Grandpa, I was just looking in the water,” the boy argues. He was almost there. Almost to his destiny. He knows the water holds secrets, just not what.

“No, Ari. You were just leaning so far over the boat that you were about to fall in. Go help your uncle, and stay away from the edge. No matter what, don’t go near the edge, you understand?” Ari looks up at his grandpa with a mix of confusion and a frown on his face. He didn’t want to help his uncle. He wants to stay right here and try to get a glimpse of the fish.

“And for fucks sake, tell your mom I said you need to learn to swim before you come back on my fucking boat!”

A young Ari takes a look around the deck, thankfully seeing no one around. It has bothered him all day. This itch never stopped, and it was sinking down into his skin, caressing over his bones, and he had to look. There is no other explanation, he needs to know what lies beyond the darkness. He saw something.

Maybe it was an exact reflection of the sun in the right place, but he doesn’t care. He has to look. Taking a deep breath, he glances around again before his bright blue eyes find the still water. It’s blue black color is eerily still. Leaning over the boat as much as possible. A part of him feels goofy that if it was a fish it would have swam away already. Hours later it still wouldn’t be there.

But the need to see and know is too strong to ignore. He walked around feeling like something was missing. A part of his soul is hiding below the deep dark surface, and he needs it. Needs to grasp it in his hand because it belongs to him. Looking into the darkness more than the sun. A darkness that should swallow him whole.

Cold.

Too cold for swimming. And he couldn’t swim.

Suffocating.

Ari sits up in his bed in a cold sweat. Chest heaving with every labored breath he takes as his meaty hands run through his hair. Gulping air instead of the icy cold water he had inhaled all those years ago, but that dream always woke him up. And he could never remember anything past the suffocation and chill of the water.

Some would say it was an obsession, and it was. How else do you explain a small boy that couldn’t swim washed up on the shore of Emerald Cover, and no recollection of how he got there? The only evidence that someone had brought him to shore was an odd pearl necklace that he kept hidden that day. Now he never removes it.

He reaches his arms above his head as he gives a big stretch. Yawning while scooting himself to the edge of the bed. Wearing only that pearl necklace that lays in between the valley pecs. His constant reminder that he forgot something. Someone. Or it was all in his head. But someone had to have saved him.

“Ahh!” His cousin, Frank, screams before slamming the door. “I just saw your dick.”

“You jealous that your dick pales in comparison to mine?”

“Are you jealous that I woke up with a girl gagging on mine?” Ari rolls his as he reaches for a pair of pants. There was nobody in the bed with Frank, unless she snuck in before they set sail. Hiding until now. “You know, if you want to enjoy sea life you gotta get started early. Can you swim now, baby boy?”

“You know I’m bigger than you now, little bit?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t,” Ari slings the door open. Towering over Frank who smirks up at his younger, but larger cousin, “Well you did almost drown. You even got a little trinket to show for it,” he gives the necklace a little tap before his face falls immediately. “You know I’m just kidding.”

“You know that this isn’t a joke to me. Our grandpa is carrying on about mermaids, and I fall into the water, can’t swim, and manage to be washed up on the cove shore, can you make that make sense? Especially since I had this.”

“You really need to get out and smell the salt water. They don’t exist. Grandpa was an alcoholic loon.”

“He was babbling on about a fucking call, and hearing them. How many sailors have drowned in the cove?” Frank shrugs his shoulders, turning around to head up the stairs. “Frankie, I’m not crazy.”

“Then what or who did you see?”

“I don’t remember,” it’s the same answer he always has. Never can remember the moment from being in the water to being on the shoreline. “But she was real.”

“She?” His cousin looks over his shoulder at him. “You went from you don’t know to a she? Your mom is right, you’re a hopeless romantic, but you spent your entire life chasing after a woman you aren’t even sure is there. What color was her fin? How does one fuck a mermaid? And maybe if you got laid you wouldn’t be dreaming of a ghost,” Ari has fucked many times. Sex isn’t his issue. It’s the fact that those women were never his savior.

“When are we getting to the cove?” Ari asks, irritated that no one ever took him seriously. He only had a vague memory of that day. Cold darkness, and then warm scratchy sand, and…there was a woman, no, a girl. He’s sure of it.

“We’ll be there before lunch. Please, don’t lean into the water this time. You’re too big, and you will definitely sink to the bottom unless your titties can be used as a flotation device. Or maybe a pink mermaid will save you.”

“She wasn’t pink,” he blurts out without thinking. Gasping before he closes his eyes, and he gets a clear flash of a girl around his age grabbing hold of his arm, while pleading to someone that she couldn’t let him die.

“Daddy, please!”

“Stupid human, they deserve to die if they can’t leave us alone.”

“But he’s just a boy. What if I wasn’t released from the net?” Her violet eyes shine up at her father before he grabs Ari’s arm.

“Hey,” Frank snaps his fingers in his cousin’s face. “What happened?”

“She wasn’t pink, and I’m not crazy. I need to get to the cove immediately.”

You sit on the beach, staring out at the rising sun. A practice you have done every day for too many years. Sitting and waiting. Wasting your life away, so your father said. Most of your kind had migrated away, but you stayed. Dried yourself out every morning so you could sit and wait. Talking to rocks and the coconuts. Becoming worse than a hermit crab.

“Ugh,” you sigh, collapsing back onto the sand as you squint into the sky. You hoped that he would return, and now you feel you’re just wasting away on an island all alone. You don’t know how much longer you can possibly wait.

You wonder if he even grew up, or even if he likes the water. Does he think about you like you think about him every single day? Waiting in this stupid ass uncomfortable sand when you should have your fin, and enjoying the fucking water. Standing up, you stare at the horizon as you start to take slow calculated steps towards the water.

Today is the day. If he didn’t return, you couldn’t live in solitude like this anymore. You’d migrate to where your kind is. The moment the sun set you would be gone, and you’d wonder forever if that boy would ever return. Living in solitude isn’t the way you wanted to spend your life.

You’d become crazy thinking that this is all you were going to have. You wanted a life, and love, and seeing how he wasn’t coming back, you’d settle for just friendship, and maybe passion.

Looking out into the distance, you tilt your head as a mirage comes into view. You had finally cracked, and had begun to see things. Standing there for far too long before you yelp, and run off into the tree line, keeping your eyes trained on the ship, and the man.

He is beautiful. They didn’t make men like him, even in the ocean. Tall, thick, muscles so hard that his shirt seized, looking like it would pop off at any moment. Hair that you desire nothing more than to run your fingers through it. And your belly heats up, and these stupid things called legs start to clench together in an unfamiliar way.

He is too far away to know if that was your boy. But if that boy grew up to be this man…you didn’t know what you were going to do.

—

Ari sees a figure standing on the beach, and starts moving around quicker, “Frank, hurry your skinny little ass up!”

His cousin scowls, looking around his shoulders at his ass, “It’s not skinny. I have a nice ass, thank you very much.”

“Just hurry up, I see her,” Frank doesn’t want to give into his cousin’s incessant obsession with the girl he believes saved him twenty years ago. “Frank!” Ari screams again as her body runs into the tree line. “Fuck,” he grunts before diving into the water.

“I hope you can swim now,” Frank sighs before doing the job himself. “Chasing women from the water. Fucking nerd. I shouldn’t have even brought him with me.”

You look in horror as he jumps into water, and start to bolt out of the trees. If that was your boy then he couldn’t swim, and you wouldn’t allow him to die this time either. Stopping when you see him swimming perfectly before retreating back into hiding. Humans can learn to swim, and maybe your boy did. Maybe this isn’t your boy at all but this one in the water is making you feel even more.

Biting on your lip as he emerges from the ocean, he throws off his shirt, and you sigh. It looked perfectly fine clinging to his damp skin, but looks even better laying on the sand. His golden skin glistens with the salty water, and he shades his eyes, looking in your direction. And you zero in on his chest, it is your boy. Your necklace hands low on that glorious chest.

“I won’t hurt you,” he calls out into the trees, exactly where you are, and you shudder. His voice is deep. He’s no longer a boy. He might not hurt you, but the banging of your heart through your chest will. “My name is Ari,” that is a lovely name. You never got it before. You whisper it to see how it tastes on your tongue. It’s perfection.

“I was a young boy, and nearly drowned here, and…I’ve been trying to get back ever since,” it really is him. You aren’t crazy, and he did come back. Still carried your token that claimed him as yours. He thought about you just as much as you thought about him. “Please, you don’t have to be scared.”

Inhale. Slowly exhale.

Ari gazes at you as you slowly emerge. His cheeks become more rosy as you step out of the shadows. His eyes betray him, and he doesn’t want to look at your body, but it is on full display. Your tits pert and peeking through your hair, while your legs frame your core, and he feels the urge to drool. Struggling to not look to hard, but fearing to look away.

“Holy shit,” Ari remembers that he isn’t exactly alone when his cousin speaks, and you scurry off into the woods. Cursing under his breath when he turns to glare at Frank. “That was no mermaid. Why is there a naked woman on the beach?”

Ari doesn’t respond, only grabs his shirt from the ground, and starts to jog towards where you went. Moving aside branches, and getting smacked in the face by a few until he sees you cowering on the ground, but your eyes shine brightly up at him.

Squatting down, he holds out a hand to you. “I don’t want to hurt you? Can you speak?” In lieu of answering, you nod your head. “So you understand me?”

“Yes,” you choke out, covering your mouth quickly with your hand. You hadn’t heard the real sound of your voice in years.

“Do you know who I am?” You nod enthusiastically, and with a smile. “You grew up.”

“You, too,” your giggles make him smile. Genuinely smile. And then you get onto your knees, and your tits sway with every move you make. He strains, begging his body to remain calm as he watches you crawl on all fours. Getting right in front of him before standing to your feet, and your hand presses against his chest, over your necklace before your eyes roll up to meet his own, and his body trembles.

“Are you okay?” You ask, scared that he overexerted himself in the water. Grabbing his hand to place on your chest. “See, breathe like me.”

“I’m sorry,” his eyes fall to where his hand rests, but instead he is looking at the way your tits rise and fall with every breath. “It’s a shock to see a woman naked on the beach.”

“Naked?” You run that word over your tongue a moment before tilting your head to smile at him. “Are you naked?”

“Would you like me to be?” Damn, he knows he shouldn’t have said that considering you seem confused about the concept. “Your…well, tits are right there.”

“Tits?” You understand some things, and others not at all. “Show me my tits.”

“Fuck,” he groans, looking back at your chest. “You have no clothes.”

“Because I have none. Do I need them?” not to do the things he wants to do to you, you don’t. He can’t say that to you. There’s an odd innocence about you that makes him want to protect you. Frank wouldn’t be an issue, but he doesn’t want you corrupted by the world. The only corruption would come from him. “Ari?”

“Where did you come from?” His hand moves to your wrists as his fingers rub over the odd violet patches on your skin. Giggling again makes your tits wiggle too close to his face, and when he gives you a specific look, a hunger that food couldn’t fulfill rumbles in the pit of your being, and you feel so — empty. “Are you okay?”

“I feel tingly,” you whisper, and those blue eyes cast down your body, and your body clenches. “I don’t understand.”

“Does it hurt?” You shake your head no, because it doesn’t hurt, you just feel without. “Where…?” Grabbing his hand you pull it between your thighs, and your body hitches. A deep moan releases from his throat, and you mewl. Waiting on his sight to meet your own. “Do you have a name?”

“Adria,” good. He can’t be so close and personal to you if you didn’t have a name. He’s weak staring at you. Your body is on fire, and he feels you throbbing on his hand, but it all feels so wrong, but only because you didn’t understand. And still didn’t care that he is feeling you in such a private and vulnerable place. “Ari?”

“We should get you dressed,” he removes his hand from your body, and holds up his shirt he discarded earlier. “Here,” it’s a struggle to speak when he thinks of covering you up, but he slips his shirt over your head. The wet fabric clings to your body, and leaves little to the imagination. “Do you live here?”

“I do now. My family migrated away years ago. I’ve waited for you. You’ve waited on me, too,” you don’t form it as a question, just press your hand up against his rippling chest. “It was worth it.”

“Is this where you want to stay?”

“Are you staying?” You innocently ask. He smiles, shaking his head no. “Then no. I’ve waited many years for you, Ari,” it may take time, but soon you will claim him with more than just a piece of jewelry. He would be yours, you could feel it throughout your body, into your bones, and into the legs that still didn’t feel right. He needs to be yours in every sense of the word. You want to encapsulate his life. He belongs to you.

”How do I make you mine, Ari?”

“I’m sure we can come — up with some ideas. I guess you need to meet my adopted cousin, Frank. Come on,” he doesn’t know how Frank is going to react. “Can you swim?”

“I shouldn’t go into the ocean. You see…”

“I know. I think I’ve always known what you are.”

“I suppose it’s time for you to claim me,” Ari clears his throat, looking up at the sky. “In whatever way you deem best,” Ari stares after you as you walk away. What was once an innocent boy’s life being saved is now a horny man given an open door to claim you. Dangerous games. Even more dangerous is the fact that he and Frank have been left to their own devices for a few weeks just to get here.

This is either going to be the time of your life. Or the time of theirs.

Next

Masterlist

@tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @pandaxnienke @theinheriteddutchess @rogersbarber