#like this has never happened to me before

[forbidden-sunlight]

warnings: mentioned child abuse, fem!reader, arranged marriage, implied obsessive behavior.

Imagine being reincarnated not as the heroine of the dark romance novel that you fell asleep reading, but the male lead’s villainous stepmother. Although it would be many years before you would marry his father, and your family would get out their mountain of debt from this arranged marriage. You swore to not take out your anger on the poor child as you laid in your crib.

Just because the duke still held a candle for his first wife and the mother of the male lead, his son did not deserve such cruel treatment from a woman who would never receive any affection from her husband. Arranged marriages rarely result in mutual happiness, but there is always the possibility of creating a respectful partnership between each other. 

So that is what you will do. 

You became ambitious in your studies and etiquette lessons, making connections with other young ladies of high society as your own reputation grew. Instead of becoming known for being a spiteful and superficial noblewoman,  invitations to soirees, tea parties, and banquets arrived at your household every other day.

The Mad Dog of Macaluso became The Blossoming Flower of High Society. Despite the marriage proposals your household had received, none of the gentlemen in the Umbra Empire were as rich as Giovanni Lombardo, the grand duke and the male lead’s father. 

So, the marriage still happened; but you were not bothered by your new husband’s declaration on your wedding night that he would never have a child with you, citing that he found you unpleasant and nothing at all like his deceased wife as his tall frame towering over yours as gray orbs glaring down at you with icy disdain. You stared at him for a moment before you smiled.

“No one can ever replace a loved one, and it is a relief to know that you do not care for me romantically, Your Grace. This is a situation that is beneficial only to my house, and the Emperor had forced you to select me because he was tired of hearing everyone talking about how his most trusted aide has refused to remarry since his wife’s passing six years ago during childbirth. Your son is your heir, so there is no need to have another child. If you would permit me, I would like to get to know him more. If you do not believe me, you can assign a servant to watch me interact with him and the rest of the staff. Is that acceptable?”

The baffled expression on the duke’s face at your words had been worth all the hard work you have placed into being a better side character that wouldn’t be killed in the novel’s third chapter. You would not disappoint him. 

You would prove to be a valuable partner and protect the male lead until it was time for you to leave the stage. 

Three years passed. You performed your duties as the duchess, overseeing the household and organizing any functions that were to be hosted in the duchy. When you weren’t doing paperwork in your private office or speaking to the head butler on how to improve the workplace and other matters, you spent time with the male lead. 

Alessandro was a sweet little darling, possessing his father’s shiny platinum silver tresses and his mother’s bright blue eyes that sparkled in delight when you praised him for doing so well in his studies with a big hug or a kiss on the cheek. He was precocious for a six-year-old, though he still could not understand why his Papa didn’t like Mama. Mama being you, even when you have had to gently correct him more than once that you are his stepmother, not his birth mother. 

“Some day when you are older, you will understand.” You said, resting your chin on top of his head as you carefully adjusted your grip around his middle. He liked to sit in your lap under the garden’s pagoda during tea time, and you saw no issue with it.  “Papa may not like me, but we love you. That will never change, and we only want the best for you.” You ran a hand through his hair, tucking a stray strand behind his ear. 

In the original work, he became obsessed with the female lead because he did not receive any love from his father and was abused by his stepmother. Her gentle demeanor, her kindness and loveliness triggered his desire to have her all to himself. He had even commissioned the construction of a human-sized golden cage so that he could keep the female lead by his side forever. 

Alessandro pouted. “But I don’t want to wait that long! Can’t you tell me now?”

You chuckled. “Good things come to those who wait, my dear. Believe it or not, being a grown-up can be hard in this big, scary world.”

“That’s impossible! Papa is super cool and can do so many things!”

“Yes, he is quite something, isn’t he? Now drink some tea or it will get cold.” 

What you did not realize at the time was that the duke had returned home early from work and went to search for you. The head maid had told him where you were, though the duke had not expected Alessandro to be with you in the garden. He heard what you said about him, and how you have come to accept that you will never be loved by him and it was not his son’s fault.  How affectionate you were with him, smiling and ruffling his hair while reminding him to pay attention to his arithmetic tutor because it was important for him to understand numbers because they were just as important as knowing all colors in a rainbow or which fork to use for salads. 

You had kept your promise to him. 

You did not demand his affections, prioritizing the duchy and his son’s wellbeing. You did not take any paramours nor spent more than the allowance you were given to shop for dresses and other accessories in the capital. You attended tea parties, and did not bring shame to his family name. You were a perfect wife. You were worthy.

Would you object to him spending time with his son as you do? Would you allow him to get close, to spoil you with gifts? Would you even consider the idea of giving Alessandro a younger sibling? It’s been too long, and he does have needs. 

Happy Mother's Day, guys~! :)

Taglist: @nunezs-stuff @imperfectbloodmoon @yandere-dark-cupid @aiimee9 @cassanderasblog @facelessfionna @ixchelhernandez4 @yourdoorisunlocked @faux-ecrivain @julietdelamare @reiivven @ghostdoodlen @persephone-kore-law @dreamlessnight @obsessedwithromance @f4turemom @pinkgoldweebgirl @yandere-writer-momo

[demilypyro]

It's been fascinating seeing the reaction to the poll. The Destiel fans seem to think their ship deserves to stay popular and relevant just because... it used to be popular and relevant, I guess? Reading these tags has such a flavor of entitlement, it's really something.

It's like they're not realizing that the standards for what qualifies as good representation, or even a good show, have shifted in the last 10 or so years. Not realizing that a lot of people who were here back then, like me, never cared for Supernatural, and don't agree it was important at all, and would not be interested in celebrating it. Not realizing that other fandoms have been happening around them, and that some, like in the case of Mobile Suit Gundam, have legacies that reach back to decades before Supernatural was even on the air.

Destiel is such a product of its time. It's a fanon ship that, as I recall, was strongly disliked by its show's staff, acknowledged only because the fans demanded it so much. The ending of Supernatural was widely mocked, and the show is now mostly remembered as that meme people learn the news through.

Sulemio meanwhile had the full, joyous support of its staff, and was canon since the first episode of Gundam Witch. The whole show's plot revolved around this pairing. The Gundam franchise hit record sales numbers during and after the show. Sulemio brought hundreds if not thousands of new people into the mecha audience, and got many of them interested in the hobby of building Gunpla. Suletta and Miorine being canonically married even stood out politically, because gay marriage is not legal in Japan.

Is this not progress? Is this not worth celebrating? Why cling to the old and busted when the new hotness is doing such great things?

"Be serious", they say. But I am serious. I've been serious the whole time.

Maybe it's not for me to understand.

[nothorses]

I think the thing about it for me is that transmascs have the fundamental right to tell you what our experiences with misogyny and male privilege are, not the other way around.

You don't know what we go through unless we tell you. I don't know what other transmascs go through unless they tell me. Cis women, other trans people, even people with the exact same identities, the exact same life trajectories- none of us know what another person is experiencing or has experienced, let alone how they have interpreted and internalized those experiences, unless they tell us. Even then, we will only ever have access to an imperfect version of that true experience filtered through several layers of language and our own perception & biases.

Does this clash with what feminism says about men's experiences? Yes, absolutely! A lot of (generally mainstream) feminism believes that women Know what men experience better than they themselves do, colored as those experiences are by bias and privilege. And this is a fundamentally isolating, egotistical belief. It cuts us off from each other, it prevents us from connecting, and it shuts down meaningful conversation before it can happen. It says women are pure and perfect, and men are sullied by privilege; that anyone touched by privilege cannot be trusted, and should not trust themselves.

When cis men say they've never experienced privilege, the answer should not be, "you don't know that," it should be vulnerability & curiosity. Why do you think that? I find that hard to believe for these reasons, but I want to know more. I want to co-create understanding with you. Are you curious about me, too? Will you offer me this same kindness? (And if not, they're probably not worth your energy!)

And y'know what, maybe they haven't actually experienced the things you think they have! Maybe the framework you are using is imperfect- maybe it works on a systems analysis level, but it doesn't apply universally. Particularly when we're talking about marginalized men!

This idea that experiencing privilege means you cannot be trusted, ever, to understand that privilege or to know when you have or haven't experienced it? It's so fucking dangerous. Case in point: transfems should be able to talk about the ways in which they might have experienced male privilege without it immediately discrediting everything else they have to say, up to and including about their own identities.

We cannot operate like this. A framework that denies people's self-knowledge will never be capable of liberating anyone.

So yes, actually, some transmascs may experience conditional male privilege at times. But will you, do you believe transmascs when we tell you that we don't?

[yxami]

Yandere crybaby stalker! =^_^=

You felt eyes on you, you’ve been sensing this strange deja vu of a stare you could never find, it’s been happening more and more. The gut feeling in your stomach seems to churn, warning you of something that you have yet to discover.

As you entered the grocery store you heard rain pitter patter against the window, seeing the droplets run down the glass you decide to quickly finish this trip. You only needed eggs and butter, then you’d be out of here before it started storming.

You made it to the aisle, finding yourself alone in the aisle as you grabbed your desired brand of butter. In your peripheral view you see a person looking at packaged margarine a few feet away. You pay no mind and put the 3 pack you selected into your basket.

You were about to leave the aisle before you noticed a flash coming from the persons phone that strangely seemed to be facing you, you think of it as an accident but you do give a confused look at the person before leaving.

They seem to fumble to shove their phone away, pulling their hoodie more over their head.

Now, you just needed the eggs, you wonder only a bit about what that person might’ve been doing but you just wanted to go home and eat so you had no time to ponder about stupid shit.

You spend more minutes than you’d prefer on getting your choice of eggs, you wonder if you should get some snacks and as you were about to reach for a familiar bag of chips you see the same person from earlier in the new aisle you were in.

You get the creeps and decide to leave it and get a snack from a different section. Ironically and much to your dismay the stranger seems to appear in the same place at the very end of the shelves.

You think about to all the times you’ve felt a stare on you, and as you look away and pretend to be distracted with something the feeling is almost identical to what you’ve sense for the past week.

You shiver, not from the cold, but from the creepiness of the situation. You head quickly to a self check out station, grabbing your singular shopping bag after scanning and paying. You ignore the rain and head down the alley you always take when going home.

You could hear footsteps behind you, almost mimicking the same time your feet touched the ground. You look behind you, seeing nothing you continue. The hairs on the nape of your neck, making you feel more concerned

You didn’t have time for this bullshit.

You speed walk towards where you think the creep was, grabbing them by their hoodie and pull them to the ground. You realize it’s a guy with a stunned and confused expression as his face contorts into a scared one.

“Why have you been stalking me?” You say with a demanding tone, trying to sound confident even though your heart races in this empty place, sun setting on his figure as he almost shrinks in his hoodie. He hiccups, trying to respond.

He’s crying?

“I- I im sorry, I didn’t mean.. to st-“ His body forces himself to breathe, too quickly so it interrupts his words and makes him feel even more shameful. “I didn’t - i swear” He huffs, looking up you can finally see his face.

His glossy brown eyes only seem to water more when you seem frustrated and confused, it makes him sob more, he tries to stop, wiping his tears with his sleeves and biting down on his quivering lip.

“What do you mean you didn’t mean to? That doesn’t make sense, how do you mistakenly stalk someone?” You corner him even more, making him press his back into the brick wall edge, you weren’t trying to be harsh but you wanted answers.

“I’m- it’s just- I” He looks up at you, eyes flickering to view you before he gets even more embarrassing and fails to respond, ending up crying in his sleeves again.

Now you look like the bad guy, you’ve cornered this scared guy and he’s crying, you observe your surroundings, noticing nobody has taken the shortcut and walked in this empty alley just yet.

“Alright- just stop crying, breathe” You sigh, slightly flustered with his reaction, you haven’t laid a hand on him yet he’s bawling as if you’ve robbed him of something important. “Here, some tissues” You rummage your bag and find a travel sized version of a tissue box, giving him the box he gently takes it.

You’d look and see his face if you could, but he’s just staring at the ground with his hair covering his face while he wipes his tears away. His ears burn red with embarrassment and he wonders if he can ever even look at you after this. He feels so pathetic, and he hates it.

You’re so gentle with him even though he doesn’t deserve it, you found out he was stalking you and you still comforted him..

“I’m sorry…” He mumbles, wanting to feel the warmth of your skin somehow, despite knowing that wasn’t appropriate especially after you’ve caught him.

“Just.. don’t follow me anymore, I don’t know what you want but I’m not going to call the police” You sigh, wanting to go home and make your stupid fucking ramen, not deal with this guy.

“Wh- please! Don’t leave me.. please” He begs, clinging onto you by holding onto the end of your shirt, he’s desperate, but choked up so he can’t explain himself other than beg for you to stay.

“Dude- let go of me, what’s wrong with you? I’m not calling the police, don’t you understand?”

“I don’t want to be this way, I really don’t, but you- you’re you, and I just can’t stop myself” His vague words confuse you even more, your hoodie is growing more damp with the droplets falling on the two of you.

“I don’t understand you, dude you’re crazy” You furrow your eyebrows even more, looking incredibly concerned for how he was acting, he doesn’t seem like a threat, he just looks pathetic and desperate, like a stray dog.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to meet like this, I thought we would meet normally, in a nice place and bond over something, like in those shows? I’ve tried to look like how you like, I even got a few piercings” He takes his hoodie down, showing his eyebrow piercing and septum, tugging on them to show that they were real. You could see his eyes shake to observe your reaction, still teary.

This man standing before you has shown you that he’s crazy, attached, and desperate, and it’s all for you. You don’t know how to react, but he clings onto you even more.

“Give me a chance, I’ll act the way you want me to, I’ll dress the way you want, I’ll change for you …please?”

[acey-wacey]

True Love's Kiss

Feat. Idia, Azul, Vil

Synopsis: You've fallen under a mysterious sleeping spell. Who can wake you up but your true love?

...

🎮 Idia Shroud 🎮

"ME?!"

Idia's shriek resounded through the infirmary before he was hushed by one of the nurses. He shrunk back in his embarrassment and turned back to the cheeky cat that was standing on the infirmary bed next to your sleeping form.

"Yes, you, shut-in. What have you got brimstone on your ears?" Grim scowled at the blue-haired boy who's hair was becoming quite pink with embarrassment. "Who else would kiss my henchman awake?"

"Literally anyone else, maybe?" Idia argued, hiding his face behind the collar of his jacket. "It's always Prince Charming in the stories. I'm about the farthest thing you could find."

"I think you're plenty charming, Idia!" Ortho chimed in with what would have been a smile if he didn't have his mask on. "Who's to say you won't break the spell?"

"I say," Idia groaned, his voice muffled by his jacket. "Aren't there any other cures? I thought Professor Crewel was working on an antidote."

Before Grim could open his mouth, Ortho interrupted.

"Nope! No other cure!" Ortho beamed with glee uncharacteristic for delivering grave news. "I already scanned and if my databases say there's no other cure than there's no other cure and you have to kiss them!"

Idia whined in mortification and buried himself further in his jacket, now almost entirely engulfed by the fabric, except for the tufts of flaming hair sticking out the top.

Grim tapped his paw impatiently, quite fed up with Idia's reservations. Every second you were asleep was a second that your poor, poor kitty boss went without tuna (he couldn't reach the cabinet where you put the cans).

"I could always go get Leona. He's a prince, so it's close enough, yeah?"

"No!" Idia shot up, his hair flared up in red, startling Grim so bad, Ortho had to catch him before he fell off the bed. Idia took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair until it returned to its regular electric blue.

"Don't even joke about that," Idia muttered through gritted teeth. "Makes my skin crawl to think of that grubby jock getting his slimy lips anywhere near Y/N."

"Fine, if you don't want anyone else to do it, then what's the issue?" Grim put his paws on his hips and shot Idia an impatient look. "You like them, they like you, they probably want to kiss you anyway so just hop to it! I'm starving over here!"

Idia snapped up in shock at Grim's words.

"Y/N... likes me?"

Grim scoffed in ridicule and rolled his eyes.

"Duh! What, have you been living under a rock? Oh, wait, you have, haven't you?"

Ortho immediately began protesting Grim's insult. Idia himself might've been offended if he wasn't preoccupied with his overheating brain.

Why in Wonderland would you like him? I mean that was just a ridiculous claim even though both Grim and Ortho seemed to believe it. Not many people even liked being around him much... but then again, you weren't other people.

You were the one who messaged him to go to sleep at midnight after gaming for too long. You brought him snacks and sat in comfortable silence in his dorm while he played video games. You never expected more from him and without realizing it, he has gotten used to having you next to him. It even happened sometimes that he would turn to say something to you while he was gaming, only to find you weren't there. It baffled him how you made your way into his daily routine almost without notice.

"Do they really?" Idia asked softly, catching the attention of both Grim and Ortho who had been exchanging some heated words of childlike manner. "Like me, I mean."

Ortho giggled at his brother's bashfulness.

"Of course they do! They never shut up about you!" Grim huffed, recalling the countless times he'd heard you practically gushing about the vitamin D deficient geek. "No clue why though. Guess Y/N likes 'em pale and sickly."

"I'm not- whatever," Idia didn't really have the fight in him to argue with Grim's impression of him. He took a deep breath and looked at Ortho. "Do you really think it would work?"

"Only one way to find out!" the little robot responded cheerily.

"What if..." Idia gulped. "What if it doesn't work and I just kiss them for nothing? What if..."

"Shut up and pucker up, dracula! I'm wasting away without my henchman!"

That earned Grim a pair of yellow-eyed glares.

Idia collected himself with a deep breath and leaned towards you.

"Nope, nope, nope, this is a bad idea, I can't do this," he panicked, standing up and waving his hands around in anxiety. Grim rolled his eyes and jumped onto Idia's shoulders, pushing him onto you with all the momentum the little creature could muster.

It was effective. Idia toppled forward onto the infirmary bed, catching himself just in time to not crush you, but not before his lips brushed yours.

Idia jumped back, crashing to the floor quite devoid of grace. He, Ortho, and Grim all held their breath, waiting for something to happen.

"Aw, man, our first kiss, and I wasn't even awake for it!"

Idia brightened at the sound of your voice. He jumped back to his feet to see your drowsy eyes locked on him.

"Hi, Charming," you lazily smiled at the blue-haired boy. "Thanks for rescuing me."

Idia's face went slack with shock and his face turned so red you were afraid he might explode.

"Perfect! Now that you're awake, get me tuna, human!"

...

🐙 Azul Ashengrotto 🐙

"This is such a bad idea."

Deuce echoed for the nth time since Ace had come up with his little scheme.

"I know but just think," Ace smirked at your sleeping body, which the two were carrying through the Octavinelle dorm, Ace supporting your arms, Deuce carrying your legs, like they were carrying a dead body. "Imagine the look on the prefect's face when they wake up and see Azul They'll probably think they're dreaming."

"Yeah, I think they've had that dream before," Grim scowled from where he rode atop your belly. "Wouldn't be surprised with how down-bad they are for that slimy little junior mafia boss."

"It'll be fine, I'm sure," Ace dismissed, ignoring Deuce's concerned look. "And if anything bad happens, it'll probably be the prefect ending up with a contract, not us."

"That's kind of a terrible thing to say about a cursed person," Deuce pointed out matter-of-factly.

"Pssh, where'd your moral compass come from, huh?"

"From my mom," Deuce spat defensively. Ace was about to respond when they were both startled by a looming figure standing menacingly behind Deuce.

"Well, well, well, what have we here?"

Both first years gulped in fear at the sound of the eel's unison voices.

"Is our poor prefect injured?" Jade frowned though his eyes held a devious sparkle.

"Sort of..." Grim started but jumped back when Floyd grinned at him menacingly.

"We can't have Shrimpy being hurt, now can we?" he flashed his sharp teeth at the sleeping prefect. "We'll take 'em off your hands, fix 'em up real nice."

"Will we get them back?" Ace asked, fearing the answer. Jade responded with a squinty smile.

"That remains to be seen."

"Hey, wait a minute-!" Deuce tried to protest but was cut off when Floyd lifted your limp body with two hands and flung you over his shoulder.

"Careful, Floyd," Jade warned. "We can't have damaged goods."

The unfortunate trio was left to watch as you were hefted into the Mostro Lounge, wondering if they would ever see you again.

Meanwhile, in the Mostro Lounge, Azul was peacefully tallying profits in his office when his door was kicked down.

"What the-" he shrieked. Azul stared in horror as Floyd barged into the room with a body flung over his shoulder. "Did you... Did you actually kill someone this time?"

"Not this time," Floyd responded cheerfully. Azul managed to stand up from his chair right before Jade swept everything off of the polished mahogany desk in front of him.

"What are you doing?!" Azul yelled but was quickly silenced when Floyd set your limp body down on the now-empty desk. "Is that Y/N?"

"Yup!" Floyd said, popping the "p" with a sly smile.

"Are they...?" Azul asked hesitantly.

"Just sleeping, fortunately," Jade responded with a similar grin. "But I'm afraid it's the work of magic. They won't wake until..."

At this point Azul was very concerned. His crush was unconscious on his desk and his business associates were far too smug to have good intentions.

"Until what? Seven's sake, just tell me why you brought them here!"

"Very well," Jade bowed his head in respect that felt more mocking than anything. "The prefect will remain asleep until they are woken up by true love's kiss. It is the belief of myself as well as Y/N own friends that you may be able to fulfill this requirement."

It must have been at least a full minute before Azul spoke again.

Jade waited patiently with a smile as Azul stared in shock and confusion, the gears behind his eyes obviously turning at superhuman speeds.

Azul finally snapped back into his regular businessman persona.

"Well, of course, I am obviously the most qualified candidate to undertake his task," Azul said nonchalantly, though both eels could easily tell it was a front.

"We'll leave you two alone then!" Floyd winked suggestively at Azul, the octopus' calm facade cracking ever so slightly.

Jade and Floyd shut the door to Azul's office and he could hear their laughter through the wood.

Azul took a deep breath and looked at your sleeping form. You looked so peaceful, your forehead free from worried wrinkles and lips devoid of any kind of scowl. Azul was used to being on the receiving end of some of these scowls/ incredulous looks. He couldn't deny he might have deserved some of the scrutiny you gave him, given that he did attempt to trick your friends into contracts so you would have to come visit him to save them. Perhaps if you wanted him to stop, you should stop wearing that adorable pout when you confront him!

You took a breath and Azul stood up so fast it scared him.

"Sevens," Azul muttered, running a hand through his hair. "When did I get this jumpy?"

He looked at you once more, taking in every still detail about you.

"Might as well stare, since you'll never be this calm around me again," he whispered as if he was afraid you would hear him through your enchantment. He sighed contentedly as he stared at your sleeping face.

After only a few seconds, he snapped himself back out of it.

"Stop it, Azul, that's creepy," he scolded himself, taking to pacing around his room. "Though to be fair, kissing someone who is under an enchanted sleep is far more creepy than just looking at them."

He peered at you again. Though it was easy to admire your serene expression, it was uncanny to see your face motionless, without a laugh or groan or yell behind it. Azul took a deep breath and steeled his nerves.

"Even if they hate me forever, it's worth a shot," he quietly hyped himself up. "But isn't it just true love's kiss? There's no way I'm their true love, that would be impossible. They dislike me far too much. But I would never forgive myself if I could have saved them..."

Azul grappled with his inner thoughts for who knows how long, before landing on the conclusion that he should just go for it and kiss you.

"If they do wake up, I'll apologize profusely until they forgive me for kissing them and then possibly draft a marriage contract...?" Azul hit himself in the head to snap himself out of it. "Stop it. Now's not the time to be thinking about that."

Azul took a sharp inhale and turned back to you.

"Oh, screw it!"

He exclaimed and rushed back to his desk, pressing his lips to yours before he could rethink it. It was the slightest kiss, barely even a kiss. Azul wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he had truly taken advantage of you.

He turned away faster than even the brief kiss. He held his breath, trying to notice tiny details about his walls to distract himself from the tension.

"What is... Where am I?"

Azul spun around, eyes wide with genuine shock. Upon seeing you groggily looking around, he straightened and cleared his throat.

When you turned toward the noise, you saw Azul, the absolute picture of perfection he always was. You would never have known he was feeling anything akin to anxiety if it weren't for the nervous tapping of his custom-tailored leather shoes.

"Azul?" You narrowed your eyes, taking in your environment. You were laying on a table, alone in a small room with Azul. "What is this? Don't tell me you finally got the tweels to drug me."

Azul opened his mouth to protest, a bit concerned that you were so used to stuff like that that you just sounded tired instead of worried, but he remembered his gentlemanly guise and rethought his next words.

"Honestly, Y/N, do you really think me so cruel?" Azul smirked, praying to the Seven for an excuse you would buy so he wouldn't have to explain the real situation. "I was not the one who brought you here. You were merely... dumped on my doorstep, shall we say."

"I just remember Ace and Grim screwing around in alchemy and they dropped some dumb potion..." You put together vague pieces of your memory before it clicked. "Ooooh, sleeping potion. I was knocked out, wasn't I? Bit stupid of those idiots to bring me here, but isn't that how they always are."

You jumped off the table as if you hadn't just been passed out. Azul was honestly surprised by your chipperness. You sighed and turned to him.

"So what did you do? What do I owe you?" You looked at Azul expectantly. He blinked a couple times before he felt embarrassing heat rise on his neck.

"I didn't- well I- that is to say-" Azul stared, scrambling for words. Nobody but you could make him this inarticulate. He took a deep breath and collected himself. "You don't owe me. If anything, I should be paying you for recompense."

You furrowed your eyebrows, very skeptical of any supposed kindness coming from NRC's resident schemer.

"What do you mean recompense? What happened?"

"I may have-" Azul coughed, trying to brush off what was so clearly bothering him. "This particular enchantment required-" Another cough. "I believe the particular wording was a true love's kiss. I provided a kiss of such manner. Because of the impropriety of this particular cure, I feel a certain responsibility to compensate you for such lack of consent."

You stared for a long time. Azul imagined that must have been what he looked like when Jade first told him about your condition.

"True love's kiss..." You trailed off, subconsciously bringing your fingers to your lips.

"Yes and I will be happy to provide compensation for emotional or physical damages or- or other."

You looked at Azul incredulously.

"You just told me you're my true love and you think I want money?!"

Azul was quite confused now.

"Do you not want money?"

"Well, I could always use it but at the particular moment, what I really want is for this dumb octopus to come and give me a real kiss."

...

🪞 Vil Schoenheit 🪞

It had been a few hours since you had been unceremoniously dumped on Pomefiore's doorstep. Apparently, some alchemical accident had happened, leaving you magically asleep with no known cure. Crowley had dropped your limp body at Pomefiore and offered extra credit to anyone who could fix you. It only made sense. After all, the Fairest Queen was quite proficient at potions, and so Vil prided himself on the same.

No one else had dared touch you once he spotted your body and glared at them. He had Rook carry you to the makeshift potions lab next to Vil's room. Rook, ever the drama queen, took every step to ensure your comfort while in your enchanted sleep. He set you up on a table with plush pillows and a lacy blanket. Vil thought the flowers Rook had arranged in your hands were a bit excessive but he was more preoccupied with finding a cure.

Vil told himself he was doing it for the extra credit, but really, anyone who knew him knew he didn't need it. Some part of him didn't like seeing you cursed.

For the past two hours, Vil had been rifling through every potion book he had, trying multiple recipes and feeling a little more disheartened every time it didn't work. One of the elixirs he whipped up burned right through his potted fern. He elected not to test that one on you.

Eventually, Vil came upon a book about curse-breaking.

"Can't believe I didn't see this before," he muttered to himself, flipping open the table of contents.

There was only one page on sleep spells. Vil ran his finger over the passage as he read it.

"The only way a sleep spells can be reversed is thought true love's..." Vil interrupted himself with a scoff. "That's ridiculous, that can't be the only way."

He looked over at your sleeping form, clutching your bouquet of flowers. The color was drained from your face and even the shade of your clothes looked grayer. Vil felt a pang of emotion, like a hand squeezing his heart at the sight of you so lifeless.

You were usually so full of life, bringing joy to those close to you. You stayed just out of the limelight, content to support your friends in their shenanigans but having your own fun outside of the public eye. Oftentimes, you took Vil along with you, giving him a taste of what it's like to be treated like a normal person.

It disturbed him so see you devoid of a smile or eye-roll or any sort of emotion that you wore on your sleeve.

No matter what it took, he would find a cure.

"You've already found a cure," Vil imagined you saying to him. "You're just too scared to use it."

"What do you know?" Vil grumbled quietly. Had he really fallen so far he was talking to himself? He wished you were really talking to him, really showing signs of life, even if it was to scold him. "There must be another cure somewhere. I don't care how long it takes me to find it."

"You know true love's kiss is the most powerful thing in the world," Vil's imaginary you said. "There isn't another way. And besides, would you rather me be awake now instead of in the 6 months it takes you to find something else?"

Vil huffed, more annoyed by the fact that he really didn't want to wait than what you were saying.

"Then why don't you tell me how to find your true love, hm? That'll take me longer than 6 months."

His imaginary you just stared at him, blinking pointedly. He stared back, trying to decipher what his psyche was trying to tell him.

"You don't think..." His face fell when he realized what that look meant. "It's not me, believe me."

"Well, some part of you obviously thinks it could be, because I think it could be you and I'm just in your head," you shrugged.

"I refuse," he immediately declared, turning away from where your real self laid. "If you were real, you would not agree. And by the way, who am I to kiss you while you're asleep?"

Vil looked over at your peaceful face and he swore he could see incredulity in your motionless expression.

"Stop looking at me like that, potato. I refuse to kiss you without proper consent."

Imaginary you stared at Vil again, unsettling him more.

"Come now, I don't need this from both of you," he picked up a potion book, pretending to read it.

"You could save me," imaginary you offered, your voice solemn in a way he couldn't imagine perfectly. He'd never heard you that serious. Guilt suddenly hit him in the chest, drawing his attention back to you.

Vil stared at you longingly for much longer than he would have allowed himself if you were conscious. He groaned and walked towards you.

"I want to save you, Y/N," Vil declared wistfully as he stood over you. "I do know if I can be your true love, but Seven, I'm out of ideas."

Vil leaned closer to you and brushed a hair out of your face.

"Maybe I'll be able to do this right one day."

Vil brought his lips to yours gently, barely touching them before he pulled away. He watched your face for any signs of movement. When you stayed stationary, he turned away, trying to shut out his disappointment.

"Honestly, when did I get so delusional?" Vil scoffed, desperately trying to push down his feelings. "In what sort of foolish fantasy do I count as Y/N's true love?"

"Mine, probably."

Vil whirled around, his usual grace abandoned in his shock at hearing your voice in his ears in lieu of his head.

You groaned as you sat up, a bit confused as you examined the flowers you were holding.

"Sorry, that was probably a dumb thing to say," you laughed, shocking Vil with how easily you adjusted to your surroundings. "Though I guess you really are my true love. You can't try to deny it, I've got the receipts."

Vil's lip quirked up at your instant snap back to teasing.

"My word against yours, potato."

...

Buy me a Kofi! ☕

[spaceman-earthgirl]

“Did you see this?” Lena asks, holding her phone out towards Kara. “It’s about your cousin.”

Kara’s instantly worried. If there’s a news article about Clark, there’s only two things it could be. One, he’s been in a big fight or something else dangerous has happened, or if it’s about Clark, and not Superman, then that could only spell bad news for Clark and his secret identity.

Kara’s heart actually stops for a moment when she sees “Clark Kent” in the headline, but lets out a sigh of relief when she realises it’s not a Daily Planet article, but an article from an online gossip magazine.

Lois Lane and Clark Kent, Metropolis’s Hottest New Couple?

Kara quickly scans the article, which is nothing but gossip, and two photos, one of Clark and Lois holding hands, another of the couple leaning close at a restaurant.

Kara smiles as she hands the phone back to Lena. Despite the lack of privacy some papparazi have, Kara is happy for her cousin.

“So, it’s true then?”

Kara nods. “It is. Clark called me last week. He was so happy they’re soulmates. Anyone with eyes could see they belong together but it’s nice to have it confirmed.”

And nice for Kara too. She’d always wondered if it was still possible that she could have a soulmate, one not from Krypton.

Turns out it is.

“That’s-“ Lena cuts herself off. “Wait, confirmed? What do you mean?”

Kara’s eyes widen as she realises her slip. She’s thought about telling Lena in so many different ways, at so many different times. But fear has always stopped her. What if she told Lena the truth, what if they kissed, and she finds out Lena isn’t her soulmate?

Kara’s never felt this way about anyone before, doesn’t think she could ever feel like this about anyone else either.

“I…do you believe in soulmates?” Kara asks, stalling slightly.

“No.” Lena replies. “Or I didn’t, until you just implied that soulmates are real.”

read the rest on ao3 or under the cut

Kara sighs. There’s no getting out of this. “They’re not real, at least not on Earth. Or not usually. Lois is the only human I’ve seen or heard of that has a soulmate. Clark and Lois are soulmates. All Kryptonian’s have one.”

“Are you…” Lena narrows her eyes. “You’re being serious?”

Kara nods. “The legend goes that Rao picks your soulmate, the person whose soul matches yours, the one most suited to you. But he doesn’t tell you who it is, you have to find that person yourself.”

“How?”

“I don’t know, they just find each other.” Kara had lost hope, with no one but her cousin left on Earth. But then she’d found Lena. Even before Clark had told her about Lois, she’d wondered if Lena could be her soulmate. “And then after your first kiss, a mark appears on your skin with their name, and that’s how you know they’re the one.”

Kara can see Lena’s mind working. “Does that mean Clark and Lois now have the other’s name written on each other?”

Kara laughs. “Yes. It was actually pretty funny when Clark called me, he’d had to explain to a very confused Lois why she now had a tattoo of Clark’s name.”

“So, you have to kiss someone to know?”

Kara nods. “I’m not sure why. I think it gives you a chance to get to know someone before you find out you’re destined to be together.”

“Have you found your soulmate?”

Kara shakes her head, though it feels wrong when she’s pretty sure her soulmate is right in front of her. Not that she knows for sure. “Not yet.”

“Do you wonder, every time you kiss someone, that they’ll be the one?”

“Yes and no. When I was younger, I’d hoped, just to prove I wasn’t alone. Sometimes I know they’re not the one, but now I know there’s someone out there for me, and I just have to wait.”

Lena lets out a little laugh. “I guess it puts more pressure on a first kiss, like there isn’t enough already.”

Kara laughs too. “It really does.” She can’t help but wonder, that without this extra pressure, whether she would have already told Lena how she feels.

“Who knows,” Lena says, still smiling. “It could even be me.”

Kara chokes on nothing. The hand that appears at Kara’s back, soothing up and down as Kara tries to catch her breath, doesn’t help at all.

“It…it could be,” Kara finally manages to get out.

Lena looks amused, clearly enjoying Kara’s struggle, and Kara suddenly wants to do nothing more than kiss that look off of Lena’s face.

Lena shrugs. “We’ve never kissed so you never know.”

“I haven’t kissed a lot of people,” Kara points out unnecessarily. “It could be any of them too.” She’s not sure why she says it, except for the fact she wants to point the focus of the conversation away from Lena and kissing.

“Well, you’re not getting any younger, you need to start crossing people off that list.”

Kara rolls her eyes and suddenly everything feels back to normal, she’s just talking to her best friend, the person besides Alex she trusts most in the universe.

“Are you hungry, we could-“ Kara starts, assuming the conversation is over, at least for now, until Kara can work up the courage to tell Lena how she feels, but Lena isn’t done.

“Kara,” Lena cuts in, looking suddenly serious. “I don’t know if I’m way off here but I know I’m not going to be able to stop thinking about this.” Lena reaches out and takes Kara’s hand and Kara’s breath catches in her chest. “Please tell me you feel this too? Please tell me I’m not the only one who’s fallen in love with their best friend? I didn’t even believe in soulmates before today but I’ve always believed we found each other for a reason, that we belong together. And maybe this is why.”

There are tears in Lena’s eyes by the time she finishes talking and Kara’s own heart is racing as she reaches up to catch a tear before it spills down Lena’s cheek.

And then she doesn’t even think as she leans forward, capturing Lena’s lips in a kiss she’s dreamt about too many times to count.

Lena’s breath catches as their lips meet and now Kara’s crying too as Lena’s hand grips her shirt, holding her close.

The kiss is brief, only because Kara’s forgotten something crucial and she has to tell Lena. “I love you, too,” Kara says as she pulls back, the words brushing Lena’s mouth as she does.

Kara’s whole body is on fire as green eyes meet hers, still so close. Kara doesn’t even need to look down to where her arm is tingling, to know that Lena’s her soulmate. She’s pretty sure deep down she’s known since she first laid eyes on her.

With great effort she does look away from Lena, only because she wants to show Lena the words now written on her skin.

Kara pulls up her sleeve and there it is, in black ink, undeniable against her tan skin. There is Lena’s name, and Kara is crying again.

“That’s going to be tough to hide,” Lena says, and it’s meant to be a joke but it comes out too breathless to be anything but awe. Lena lifts her hand, runs her fingers gently over the name, and Kara’s knees go weak.

“Do you…” Kara asks, because now she wants to see it, needs to see her name on Lena’s skin too.

Lena turns, and she must have had the same feeling as Kara because she lifts up her shirt and there it is, low on Lena’s back, ‘Kara Zor-El’ written clear as day.

Kara reaches out, thumb ghosting over the spot her name is written.

“It is there?” Lena asks, voice filled with such hope that Kara places her hands on her arms, spins her gently until they’re facing each other again.

“Yes.” Kara lifts her hands, cups Lena’s cheek, thumbs catching more tears as they fall. They both know they’re happy tears. “I love you,” Kara repeats, because she can now. She’s going to say it so many times, Lena will get sick of it.

“I love you, too,” Lena repeats, her smile so bright Kara’s knees go weak again. And then Lena leans forward and kisses her again and Kara is lucky she manages to stay upright because Lena’s mouth feels so right and perfect against her own.

---

Two days later, in the CatCo gossip column, there’s a picture of the two of them kissing in Noonan’s, with the title:

Lena Luthor and Kara Danvers, National City’s Hottest New Couple?

[ellecdc]

I come with wolfstar comfort thoughts <3

When you're sick remus is wonderful, he hates seeing you ill so he does everything he can to help: makes you tea, maybe some soup, gets you some meds and puts you on the sofa with a blanket and a pillow (sirius's chest)

Sirius on the other hand is less sure of what to do but he still wants to help so he let's remus tell him what to do, he's in charge of physical stuff like carrying you to the sofa (even if you're perfectly capable of walking) and being your human pillow while remus is busy in the kitchen, he's also tasked with moral support which mainly consists of stupid jokes and funny stories (he has many of james being a total drama queen when he got ill in the dorms)

I hope you feel better soon <3

-💫anon

poor Siri - I had a vision for this and now that it's written, I'm not sure I quite hit the mark, but let me know what you think! and thanks for your request <3

poly!wolfstar x sick!reader who they plan to nurse back to health

CW: fem!reader, cold/flu symptoms, brief passing mention of Sirius' childhood (no details), fluff

Sirius closed the door behind him and tossed his keys haphazardly into the dish that Remus insisted they go in, causing a loud clanging which echoed through the hallway. 

He realised only then how quiet the flat was in comparison which was rather unusual for this time of day as you and Remus always managed to beat Sirius home. 

Sirius felt some tension ease from his face (and body and soul) when he saw a familiar head of tawny curls over the back of the couch. 

His plans for a surprise upside-down Spiderman style kiss - to what he had assumed was a sleeping Moony having fallen asleep reading a book - was foiled when Sirius came around the top of the couch to see you - looking particularly pathetic - curled up and resting your head in Remus’ lap fast asleep. 

“Wha-?” Sirius asked dumbly, looking between Remus’ sad smile and your sleeping form - you seemed flushed and were breathing with your mouth open, likely because you couldn’t breathe from your nose.

“Hey Pads.” Remus offered quietly.

“What happened?”

Remus grimaced as he looked down at you and brushed some of your hair away from your face; you didn’t even stir. “I don’t think she ever made it to work today; I got home and found her on the couch.”

And Sirius could see that this was likely true, based on the vast amount of evidence that you’d been living on the sofa. 

You’d tried to contain your used tissues to a paper bag but there were a few stragglers from where you no doubt lacked the strength to put much effort into aiming anymore. A half empty waterbottle and a bowl of soup with a layer of film on the top sat dejectedly on the coffee table along with a packet of Benilyn with a few missing tablets.

“Poor babydoll.” Sirius cooed as he rubbed Remus’ shoulder. 

Remus turned to press a kiss to Sirius’ hand before gently lifting your head in order to stand.

“We’ll nurse her back to health in no time.”

Sirius felt his eyebrows furrowed as he watched Remus gently lower your head onto a throw pillow; still never managing to rouse you from your sleep. 

“How do we do that?” Sirius asked.

Remus hummed as he made for the kitchen and Sirius followed him much like a lost puppy. “Well she needs lots of rest, and we should try to get her to eat before we give her anything to bring down her fever; she hardly ate any of the soup she made earlier. Maybe some Chamomile too. But I want to start by bringing her fever down.” He said with finality as he started puttering in the kitchen. 

“What should I do?” Sirius asked like a child helping their parents in the kitchen; he felt worse than useless, he felt like he was in the way.

This is what happens when you don’t have a loving family; you don’t always know how to love - the verb to love, the action of loving someone. 

Sirius feels love, he knows that much. He just doesn’t always know what to do with all of that love.

Luckily for him, he had two of the loveliest partners in the world to help him on that end. 

Remus turned to smile softly at Sirius before leaning down to peck a kiss to his head. “Go change into some comfies and I’ll put you to work.”

And well, Sirius didn’t need to be told twice. 

Officially donned in his favourite pair of sweats and a long sleeve band tee, Sirius returned to find Remus knelt in front of you on the couch as he whispered. 

“I know, Dovey.” Sirius could hear Remus coo quietly as he approached. “Think you can try for me, though?”

You made a sound halfway between a groan and a sob as you pulled yourself into a seated position and accepted a cup of tea from Remus. 

“Too much honey.” You protested meekly without even taking a sip; Sirius was sure he could smell the honey from where he was standing.

“It’ll help your throat, love.” 

You groaned again but took a dutiful sip which earned you a beaming smile from Remus. 

“I feel horrid.” You croaked, and Remus - god love him - managed to not grimace at the sound; Sirius was thankful he was stationed behind the sofa where you couldn’t see him, because he was not as gracious as your other boyfriend. 

“I bet. When did you last take these?” Remus asked as he motioned towards the medication.

“It was early, I think around eleven.” 

Remus hummed in acknowledgement as he stood from his crouched position. “You should be okay to have more once you’ve got something in your stomach, then. I’ll make soup, okay? Here Pads.” He pointed towards Remus’ now vacated spot on the couch. 

Sirius offered you a sad smile as you turned to look at him. “When did you get home?” You queried.

Remus scoffed in response. “I’m surprised he didn’t wake you, sweet girl, the way he comes in and throws his shit everywhere.”

Sirius scoffed in faux offence. “I am very graceful, thank you very much.”

Whoever said laughter was the best medicine was a sodding liar, because though Sirius got what he had sort of wanted (which was to see you smile), your chuckle quickly turned into a coughing fit. 

“Alright, that’s it.” Remus chided jokingly. “Sirius, lay here please.”

Sirius dutifully followed Remus’ direction and laid back on the sofa with his head resting on the arm and his legs spread, welcoming you into his arms as Remus encouraged you to lay back down with your head resting on Sirius’ stomach. 

“Neither of you are to move until Y/N is better.” Remus ordered with severity no one truly believed. 

“I hope she never gets better then.” Sirius harrumphed as he burrowed further into the sofa beneath him and rubbed loving strokes up and down your back as you wormed your hands around Sirius’ middle. 

“That’s mean.” You pouted.

“I was just saying that to our tyrant, dolly; you get better but pretend you’re not so we can trick him into letting us stay like this forever, deal?” 

“Deal.” You agreed with a sniffling sigh, causing Sirius to tsk in sympathy. 

“My poor sweet girl, so poorly. S’breaking my heart.”

Sirius could feel the heat radiating from your forehead as you hid your face in his stomach.

“I feel a bit better now.” You barely got out without coughing. 

“Forgive me if I don’t believe you, babygirl.” Sirius said with a sad chuckle. 

“It’s true.” You insisted sleepily, turning your head again so that your cheek was pressed against Sirius as you looked up somewhat dopily at him. “It’s always better when you guys are here.” 

And you were likely a little loopy from your fever, feeling more than vulnerable in your current state, and sufficiently doted upon by both Remus and Sirius; but Sirius couldn’t help but admit you were certainly onto something.

Sirius always felt better when the two of you were around too.

[dandylovesturtles]

Using a random number generator for the angst prompts: 20 Starved + 30 Dangerous Temperatures

... and Leo, of course.

OH GOD OK

uh so. I had an idea. and I decided to write it for this ask I got forever ago. And then, uh.

it really

really got out of hand.

This is a pretty dark fic (even for me) and at the current moment in time it is hurt/no comfort. I do intend to write a part 2, probably tomorrow, but as of the time I'm typing this author's note I've been writing for around 5+ hours straight and I need to take a break! So please, if you don't want to read all this without the comfort included, feel free to wait for the next part before reading! I'll link it and the end once it's posted.

Content warnings: Kidnapping, confinement, psychological torture, nonconsensual voyeurism (I guess this is the best way to put this; Leo isn't doing anything sexual but it's still violating), mild violence, HEAVY ANGST, Leo just having the shittiest time possible.

I HOPE?? YOU ENJOY??? hahahaha....

btw this is set between S2 and the movie (though tbh its canon compliance is... /waves hand)

-----

When Leo imagined himself getting captured by some kind of shady, quasi-governmental agency intent on imprisoning mutants, it was never anything like this.

When he let his mind go there, he always pictured that he would be strapped to a table. Maybe muzzled. That scientists would stand over him, scalpels and drills in hand, and start to take him apart. That they'd examine him piece by piece, and wouldn't give him any anesthesia while they did it.

But there is no table, no muzzle, no restraints at all. He's just in a room.

Well, a cell, technically - the steel door is locked, and there are no windows, no furniture but a bare cot in one corner and a lone toilet in another. But it doesn't really look like a cell. It looks like a room.

A very, very white room. White walls. White ceiling. White tiles (with white grout, even). The toilet is white, a roll of white toilet paper on the floor next to it. The only things that aren't white are the cot and the door and Leo himself.

They took his gear and his weapons, because of course they did. Since the door is steel, he already knows he's not breaking it down; he gives it a half-hearted slam anyway, just to say he tried. He should be able to just portal out, except he hasn't learned how to use his portals without his swords to channel his ninpo through, and there's nothing in here with him that he can use to make new ones.

So he's stuck. He's going to have to wait until someone opens that door for some reason. Or, of course, until his family swings by to pick him up. Though, if possible, he'd like to escape before that happens. The image in his mind, of sitting outside his cell and grinning at them as they arrive to rescue him, is too cool to pass up.

He's not sure how long it's been already. He knows that they knocked him out after ambushing him, and he doesn't know how long he was unconscious. The heavy molasses feel of his head and arms when he woke up suggests that he was drugged. It's wearing off now, though, which means he has a clear head to take in the all of nothing that's in the room with him.

He sits on the cot he woke up on and waits for something to happen.

There's no way for him to tell time, but he thinks it's an hour or so later when there's a sudden beep, and then the sound of a metal panel sliding up. It's a slot near the door that has just opened - inside the revealed alcove is a bottle of water.

He comes to it curiously, taking a long look around the bottle. The slot doesn't open straight through, and even if it did, it's not big enough for anything more than his arm or a foot to fit through. He thinks it must function like an airlock, or maybe they slid the bottle down from somewhere above - he feels around just in case, and finds that the slot is enclosed on all sides but his. Probably his airlock theory, then.

As soon as he removes the bottle, the panel slams shut again.

"You're really determined to keep me in here, huh?" he says to whatever hidden cameras are watching him. He carries the water bottle back to his cot, but doesn't open it, instead setting it down on the floor by the wall. The paranoid part of his brain, the one that doesn't miss a trick, is reminding him that drinking the water is probably a bad idea. Who knows what they might have put in it?

He sits on the cot for awhile longer. Still, nothing happens.

"I'm getting pretty bored in here," he says for the audience that must be somewhere. "Come on, you have a one of a kind turtle in here, and you don't even want to talk to me?"

Time passes, slow and quiet. Leo goes through periods where his anxiety spikes and he starts to wonder if he's been abandoned by whoever brought him here, before the boredom eventually numbs the anxiety back out. Another bottle of water is eventually delivered, and this one he keeps in his hands after retrieving it. It's completely unlabeled, not even a "Use by" date printed on the bottle itself, so it doesn't provide much mental stimulation. He spins the bottle to make little whirlpools inside, because it's something to do.

He's trying to make the fastest whirlpool he can when he hears a sudden click, different from the beep of the water bottle hole, and he looks up just in time to see a large section of the wall in front of him turn black, and then light up to show the room beyond his cell.

He jolts, setting the bottle aside. He knew they must be watching him, but somehow he didn't catch that part of the wall was a whole window.

His audience isn't very large - five people, unless there are others he can't see. Two wear lab coats, two wear fatigues... but the one who comes to stand directly in front of the window is wearing a black suit, with steel rimmed glasses. He leans forward, and speaks into a small microphone.

"Inmate 24365," says the suited man. "I am Agent Bishop, of the Earth Protection Force. My subordinates tell me that you can speak and understand the English language. Is this correct?"

"Qué?" Leo asks.

Bishop does not look amused. "Inmate 24365," he says, "you have two options. You can cooperate with me, answer my questions, and we will make your stay here more comfortable. Do not cooperate, and we will make your stay uncomfortable. Do you understand?"

Leo pretends to hem and haw over this. "How comfortable are we talkin'?"

"I'm sure you would like some dinner."

"You know, I'm not really hungry." He says it to be difficult, but it's actually true - the uncertainty of the situation has put his stomach in too many knots to want to eat anything. "Maybe if you offer me some comic books? Or a TV?

To Bishop's credit, his face doesn't so much as twitch. He keeps his steely eyes locked on Leo. "Answer our questions, and you will receive food. Do you understand?"

Leo stays noncommittal. "What are the questions?"

He's expecting Bishop to ask about his family. He's not expecting what comes next.

"How many gateways are there between New York City and the hidden yokai enclave?" he asks. "How are these gateways accessed? What kind of defensive capabilities do the yokai have?"

Leo keeps the surprise off his face. Bishop thinks he's a yokai.

This is, overall, a good development. Bishop might not know about Leo's family, then, or at least not know that they live on the surface. This means the Earth Protection Force likely isn't pursuing his brothers, which means they will be safe until they can help Leo get out of here.

He doesn't let the relief show through, either. Bishop doesn't know anything, and now Leo just has to ride out the next few hours until the calvary arrives.

"You know," he says, "I think I'm good with my current levels of comfort."

If Bishop is mad or frustrated or dismayed by this choice, he doesn't show it. His expression stays stony as he stares in at Leo, sizing him up.

"Very well," he says after a few more seconds. "I will see you tomorrow, then."

The window goes dark, and then turns stark white to match the walls. Leo wants to go over and tap at it, see if it feels different when he touches it, but knowing that Bishop is surely still there, watching him, keeps him rooted to the cot.

He goes back to making whirlpools with the bottle. If they aren't going to entertain him, he isn't going to entertain them, either.

-----

Another water bottle comes some time after his talk with Bishop. He finally opens this one and takes a cautious sip. Nothing tastes off or strange, so he drinks more. They don't want to feed him, but they're fine keeping him hydrated. No reason to stay thirsty, then.

He wishes the water calmed the anxiety still roiling in his stomach, but if anything it just makes him feel even more energized. He bounces his foot and surveys his room again, looking for any weak spots or access points. He can't see anything, though, other than the areas where he knows the water bottle hole and window are; even the vents that relentlessly blow cold air into the room are well hidden.

Knowing that there are people standing just outside his cell watching him, like some kind of zoo animal, puts him on edge. The window is so big that he's pretty sure the only blind spots are either directly underneath it or right by the door on the same wall. After debating it, he leaves his cot and sits on the floor underneath the window, surveying the room from a different angle now and still coming up empty. At least they're going to have a harder time staring at him.

His eyes catch on the toilet in the corner, directly across from the window. It's not in the blind spot, and realizing this makes his insides lurch uncomfortably - hopefully he has a chance to bust out before using it becomes necessary.

Though, he's not sure when that chance is going to come. If they have a slot to pass him water, they could use that to pass him food, too, so it's unlikely that anyone is going to open the door unless they need to take him out.

So maybe his fantasy of being outside when his brothers arrive isn't going to happen. Well, that's okay; he'll just be sure to make some other part of their escape totally rad. That will make up for the embarrassment of getting kidnapped a block from Run of the Mill.

(Seriously, some kind of ninja he is, to let a bunch of human soldiers sneak up on him.)

He drains the water bottle, then starts to roll it back and forth across the floor, like a cat batting at a toy. Leo's not sure what's worse right now: the worry or the boredom. There's nothing to look at and no one to talk to, just an empty room with him and his water bottles.

He's too keyed up to sleep, and the fluorescent lights are still on, anyway. He has no way of telling what time it is, so maybe it just isn't that late yet. And even sitting here, in the blind spot, the idea of closing his eyes while people are watching makes unease crawl up his spine. Staying awake is the easy choice. He'll sleep after he's out of here.

So he sits under the window and rolls his bottle back and forth, back and forth, with only the sound of plastic on tile to keep his thoughts company.

-----

The first three water bottles came pretty regularly, but now there is a very long stretch where nothing is delivered. Leo is starting to think maybe it really is night now. They don't turn off the lights in his cell, though, and he has no controls to do it himself. At least it helps with the whole "staying awake" thing.

Just in case they've decided to suspend his water privileges along with the food, he holds off drinking any more for now.

Speaking of food, his appetite has finally decided to return. His stomach starts to growl at him after several hours (he thinks) of sitting in the floor, an annoying emptiness in his stomach. Knowing there's no food accessible just makes the hunger sharper, but he puts it out of his mind the best he can with nothing else to focus on. He can eat once he's free.

Which should be soon. Seriously, his brothers have to be on their way by now, right?

He's pretty sure it's been the better part of a day, if not a whole day, since he was kidnapped. And, okay, he's willing to give them some leeway; it's understandable if they got a late start. He did storm out of the lair after his latest fight with Raph, and no one ever came to check on him when he did that. Understandably, he thinks, because who wants to be around Bad Mood Leo? Not even Leo wants to be around Bad Mood Leo!

But he'd already turned back into Good Mood Leo by the time he left Hueso's, so surely they knew it had been more than enough time. They would have noticed when he didn't come home. They would have realized something happened. They would be looking for him.

And if they're looking for him, they'll find him! Obviously.

His stomach growls again, and Leo leans his head back against the wall behind him. Maybe he shouldn't think of being at Hueso's. Now he just wants pizza. Pepperoni and mushroom, maybe, or Hawaiian. Mix it up a little with the barbeque chicken.

Another growl. He groans out loud.

He stays awake, twisting and crinkling the empty bottle in his hands, until another full one finally arrives.

-----

No chance to escape comes before using the toilet is necessary.

He tried to hold out, he really did, but he ended up drinking more water to stave off the growing hunger, and it's lowkey cold in here, which doesn't help. Still, the issue of the window sends an uneasy shiver up his spine, doubting that any people outside will feel the need to turn away and give him some privacy. Maybe he should have gone while he suspected it was nighttime.

(Maybe he shouldn't assume they ever aren't watching him.)

He stands up and walks over to the cot, giving it a light nudge with his foot. In a stroke of luck, it isn't bolted to the floor, and it's light enough that he can lift it. The black mesh it's made of is tightly woven, enough that not much is visible through it. It will have to do.

He picks it up and drags it over in front of the toilet, propping it up on its legs so it makes a small wall between himself and the window. It's hardly ideal, but the semblance of privacy makes him relax somewhat.

(He can't think about how there are surely cameras in the room watching him from all angles, making his attempt at a barrier moot. He knows better than anyone that sometimes pleasant lies are necessary.)

After he does his business, he leaves the cot propped where it is; it's not like he's sleeping on it. There's no sink for him to wash his hands, but he's never been the strictest about it, anyway (much to Donnie's disgust). He returns to his spot under the window, squeezing the water bottle to the rhythm of the first song that comes to mind.

Only two verses and a bridge later, the window above his head turns black, then goes clear. Thinking that Bishop might have been watching him just now makes a cold, slimy feeling roll down his spine. Creepy!

"Inmate 24365," comes Bishop's voice through the unseen speaker. "Stand."

Leo doesn't. He stays right where he is, under the window.

Bishop waits only a few seconds. Then Leo hears him say, "Temperature down two degrees."

He gets up at that, turning and leaning his arm against the window. It strangely doesn't feel like glass, even though it must be. "It's already cold enough in here," he says. He wonders how they can hear him, when he doesn't see a microphone on his side.

"You were told your conditions would only be made comfortable after you answer our questions," Bishop informs him. "The same as before: how many gateways are there between New York City and the hidden yokai enclave? How are these gateways-"

"How about you answer my questions first," Leo interjects. "You keep calling me "inmate," but I haven't been charged with anything. Pretty sure you can't detain me without cause."

"The EPF is authorized to detain non-human inmates for as long as deemed necessary for the security of the United States," says Bishop smoothly. "Probable cause doctrine does not apply in this case."

"That's gotta be unconstitutional."

"The constitution does not recognize the rights of yokai. You have no right to counsel, no right to a speedy trial, and no right to protections from cruel and unusual punishments." Bishop's stare is colder than the temperature in the room. "But I am not an unfair man. Answer my questions, and I will provide you with food and clothing."

Leo tosses a glance over his shoulder. "How about a private bathroom?"

Bishop's expression stays ever in place, unimpressed and stoic. "Food and clothing," he repeats.

Leo gives his head a shake. "Then nope," he says, popping the "p". "I plead the fifth."

"As I have already explained, the Bill of Rights does not apply to you."

"That's such crap." Leo bangs his fist on the window. "You can't just keep me here forever for no reason!"

"I do have reasons." Bishop leans closer to the window, his eyes narrowing. "Let's try a different question. What is your relation to Baron Draxum?"

The surprise is fast and sharp, but Leo just manages to keep it from showing on his face. "Who?" he asks innocently, even as the panic sets into his chest. If they know about Draxum, what else do they know?

"We know you are acquainted with him," says Bishop. "What is the nature of your relationship?"

Leo knows they aren't bluffing - why would they bring up that very specific name otherwise? There's no lie he can tell that won't reveal something.

So he doesn't say anything. Instead, he turns his back to the window and sits down, staring resolutely at the opposite wall.

Bishop clicks his tongue. "Very well," he says. "I am a patient man. I can wait." Then, more muffled, like he's facing away from the microphone, Leo hears him say, "Temperature down two degrees."

The window goes dark, then turns back to white. Leo doesn't move for a long time.

-----

The third water bottle arrives, so he guesses that's the end of day two.

He's shaking as he gets up to retrieve it, adding it to his growing water bottle hoard. He's gone through three and a half by now, but he's trying not to drink them too fast.

As promised, no food is delivered, and his stomach growls and rumbles in protest. The water helps, but only slightly. He needs to eat.

He also needs to sleep.

The panicked adrenaline spikes that have kept him awake this long are starting to die down, with more and more long stretches of exhaustion between them. The shaking is near constant, bringing with it the weird jittery feeling he gets when his insomnia gets particularly bad.

The window is still unnerving him. The idea of sleeping while they're watching him feels staggeringly unsafe.

But he doesn't think he can hold out now until his family gets here. Sure, they're probably getting close (they have to be getting close), but they're sure taking their sweet time. And he's just so tired.

After a long internal debate, he lays down on the cold tile floor. It's not at all comfortable, but somehow he doubts the cot would be any better. Besides, even if he moves the cot under the window, he thinks it would be easier to see him if he uses it. So on the floor it is.

He presses as close to the wall as he can, curling up into a ball for warmth. He wishes he had a blanket.

He wishes he was home.

He squeezes his eyes shut tight and forces back the sudden wave of overwhelming homesickness. There's no reason to feel this way. It's only been two days! What is he, a baby?

It's fine. It's all fine. They're definitely on his trail now. Raph is leading the team. Donnie is using some kind of invention to blah blah blah nerd stuff. Mikey is razzing his tazz. April is using her investigative journalism skills to find clues.

They're on their way. He just has to hold out a little longer. He can do this.

He sleeps, and in his dreams, something grabs him tight and drags him down and down and down where he can't escape.

-----

The same routine plays out over the next two days.

Leo gets two water bottles delivered, spaced, if he had to guess, about five hours apart. Bishop comes to visit him some time after the second bottle. Leo refuses to answer his questions. Bishop turns the temperature down and then leaves. A few hours later his last water bottle comes. Then nothing for the whole night.

They still don't turn off his lights, but exhaustion is starting to win over the brightness.

More than a few times, Leo tries to summon a portal on his own, without his swords. If his family is going to take their sweet time in coming, he might as well try to help them out. He tries to summon his ninpo (without glowing), tries to feel the tug inside of him that he always does when he teleports, tries to envision the place he wants to go and tunnel through space to get there.

Nothing. Always nothing.

(Donnie can make his constructs independent of his bo staff. Raph can send his projections away from his sai. Mikey's learning to use mystic powers without his nunchucks. So why does Leo need his katana? Why is he the only one this useless?)

It probably doesn't help that he's so damn hungry. It's a constant companion now, a low and hollow ache that chooses inconvenient times to turn into white hot stabs of urgency, into seizing cramps that steal his breath. The water only helps so much - it keeps him alive but doesn't satisfy, doesn't soothe. In some ways it just makes the feeling worse.

And he's always shaking, too, but he doesn't know if that's the hunger or the cold.

Maybe the cold wouldn't bother him so much if it were at least still. But the vents blow fresh air inside relentlessly, and no matter where he goes he can't seem to get out of the direct stream. The cold wind batters his tired body, and there's places his skin is starting to turn dry and flaky. His nose won't stop running, and he's allowed himself a small section of his one roll of toilet paper to blow it, already stiff and congealed and disgusting.

It's miserable.

And there's still nothing to do.

He stacks a pyramid out of his empty water bottles, knocks it down, then stacks it up again. He tries to come up with some new and exciting ways to demolish it, but it's only new and exciting for so long.

He spends a few hours of day three singing karaoke as obnoxiously as possible. He hopes everyone outside enjoys the performance.

He recounts every issue of Jupiter Jim he knows to himself, then the plot of every movie. Then he goes through Lou Jitsu films, then anything else he can think of. That eats up a good chunk of day four.

By the time he gets his first water bottle of day five, he's out of ideas to entertain himself. He's never been good at this. He doesn't know how introverts like Donnie can go multiple days without talking to someone.

But when Bishop comes back with his daily offer of conversation, Leo once again impolitely declines.

-----

Something new happens on night five.

It's been a long time since the last water bottle. Leo has been trying to sleep, but it's not coming easy; he's exhausted, but the floor is so cold and he's so sore from staying on it night after night. Not to mention, his nightmares have been getting worse, and he isn't eager to return to them.

Add on the hunger, and sleep is elusive.

Suddenly, there's the telltale shadow of the window above him turning dark - this time, though, it doesn't light up as much as normal. Confused and curious, Leo sits up and takes a peek.

The room beyond is dim, only the glow of a green EXIT sign and a small desk lamp lighting the space. But it's enough for Leo to see a man standing there, looking inside. It's not Bishop - in fact, he doesn't recognize this person at all. They're wearing fatigues, but it's not anyone he's seen in the room during Bishop's normal interrogations.

The man catches sight of Leo, and the grinning leer on his face makes Leo regret looking.

He beckons for Leo to stand up. Warily, Leo does, unable to help but keep his arms folded tight over his chest. Not for the first time, he wishes he had some clothes - his gear, at the very least. Anything to not feel quite so exposed.

The man reaches down and picks something up, holding it aloft for Leo's inspection. "Want a sandwich?" he asks into the microphone.

The sandwich looks like white bread and bologna. No cheese, no other toppings that Leo can spot. Maybe some mustard, if anything. Overall, the most boring possible sandwich he could have been offered.

Leo's mouth is watering.

He has to swallow hard before answering. He doesn't trust this. Even if his stomach is slamming up and down at the promise of food, food, food.

"I'm not hungry," he lies.

The man laughs. It's not a kind sound. "Sure you ain't," he says. "You spend every night curled up on the floor like the dumb animal you are. Can you even eat this?" He waves the sandwich for emphasis.

Leo doesn't answer. He takes a step back from the window, like that will put any kind of distance between them. Like that will save him.

The man watches him with a sleezy grin. He waves the sandwich again.

"You want this," he says.

Leo shakes his head.

"You really sure?"

Leo shudders. Stands tall. Nods.

The man watches him for a long, long moment. Leo fights the urge to hide.

Finally, with a shrug, the man says, "Suit yourself."

Then he starts eating the sandwich. Right where Leo can watch.

Leo's stomach growls, loud and angry in his ears, and he has to physically hold himself back from crumpling.

After several bites, the man suddenly reaches out and taps the window, indicating the cot stood up in front of the toilet.

"That," he says, giving another tap for emphasis, "doesn't do shit."

Leo wants to crawl out of his own skin.

The need to hide is suddenly too great. He rushes to the cot, grabbing it and dragging it back to the blind spot under the window. He sets it down on all four legs, so it's as close to the floor as possible.

Then he lies down on his belly and wriggles underneath. It's a tight squeeze, and the cot ends up pushed up by his shell, suspended in the air, but he doesn't care.

He curls up in his pleasant lie of privacy and bites his hand to keep from screaming himself hoarse.

After an eternity, the window above him turns white again. It doesn't matter. Leo knows he's still there. Still watching.

-----

"You look tired," Bishop greets him. Leo answers with a dead-eyed stare.

"I keep telling you, if you want your conditions to improve, all you have to do is answer my questions."

Leo says nothing. He just stares, arms wrapped tight around himself to try and keep his body heat in.

"How many gateways are there between New York City and the hidden yokai enclave? How are these gateways accessed?"

For a moment, Leo considers just... telling him.

His family doesn't live in the Hidden City. The yokai have never exactly greeted them with open arms. What does he care if these military guys go after them? At least then, maybe he can finally eat something.

That's not what a hero does, Leo! echoes Mind Raph disapprovingly. Innocent people will get hurt!

Right. He's a hero. And heroes don't give into the demands of shitty guys like Bishop.

Leo swallows hard. "No comment."

Bishop's face changes ever so slightly: his brow creases. Leo wonders if that's good or bad for him.

"You understand that Baron Draxum is a known threat, don't you?" he asks. "We are aware of his plans to commit mass murder on the human population. We also know that he has been dormant for some time, and we need information on what he is planning."

Leo thinks of Barry's ambitions to be recognized as the best lunchperson in all of America and can't help but laugh. It comes out cracked and wheezing.

Bishop's furrow gets deeper. "Do you think this is funny?"

"Little bit," says Leo.

Bishop has a chasm to rival Raph's now. Leo knows he shouldn't, but he grins. It's his one moment of triumph - only he can be this aggravating.

And then Bishop says, "Temperature down seven degrees," and that wipes the smile right off Leo's face.

-----

The plastic of the water bottles is soft and pliable and feels weirdly good under Leo's teeth.

He chews the top of the bottle, gnawing at it until it's completely flattened out, pockmarked with little tiny indents from his incisors. It's not eating - it won't fill his belly or ease the persistent hunger pains. But something about the motion is soothing. The place-bo effect.

Pla-ce-bo, corrects Donnie's voice in his mind, sounding testy.

Where are you? Leo thinks back.

There's no answer.

He's gnawed his way through four water bottles. There's eighteen in total now, two and a half still full of water. He thought about using one to wash up a bit, but decided against it in the end. He knows he stinks, but the last thing he wants right now is to be wet. Not when he's starting to see his breath.

Oh well. It's not like he has anywhere to be.

He turns his attentions to the lids next. These are harder and thus tougher to chew. Still, if Leo uses his molars, he can eventually crack the lip, and then bend the plastic in and in, chewing until he ends up with a flat disc.

It's just small enough that Leo could swallow it, if he wanted to.

He thinks he remembers watching some kind of wildlife documentary. Or maybe he didn't watch it himself, but Mikey told him about it. Or maybe April? He doesn't know. His thoughts swim in and out and get lost on the way.

Point is. Sea turtles in the wild die all the time because of plastic in the water. They cut open their stomachs and find trash inside.

Well, Leo is a turtle in captivity. Maybe that means he's immune. Maybe he could swallow this plastic lid, and then he'd finally feel full and the pain pain pain of his empty stomach would go away.

He does not swallow the plastic lid. But it's more tempting than he'd like to admit.

It's going to be okay. When his family gets him out of here, they'll have a big pizza to celebrate. Maybe he can even talk them into letting him have the last slice.

It has to be any moment now, right? It's been a week. They have to be closing in. Any moment now, the door will open, and there they'll be to take him home.

The air conditioning blows relentlessly against his skin. He sneezes, then rubs the snot on his arm. He's given up on the tissue paper.

It'll be over soon. It has to be. Just hang in there, Leon, just a little longer.

He picks up another bottle and starts chewing.

-----

He's playing a mindless little game with his flattened bottle lids the next time Bishop comes.

"I'm surprised you still have any energy at all," says Bishop, and Leo wants to punch him.

(Really, he wants to do more than that. But those kinds of thoughts always make him feel weird and bad, so he pushes them away.)

"You should have learned by now," he says, pushing to his feet and trying not to show how badly he's trembling, "you can't keep me down."

"This is all unnecessary," says Bishop. "I'll feed you as soon as you answer my questions."

Leo barks out a laugh. "Sure you will."

"I will," says Bishop. He turns and says over his shoulder, "Bring it here."

One of the men in fatigues steps forward and hands a tray with a covered plate over to Bishop. Bishop uncovers the tray and holds it where Leo can see.

Baked chicken, broccoli with cheese, mashed potatoes.

Leo's stomach twists and cramps so painfully he has to bend at the hips and clutch his midriff.

"This is yours, as soon as you answer my questions."

Leo pointedly keeps from looking at the food. He shakes his head. He can't. He can't.

"Such persistence." Bishop's voice is scolding now. "You understand that you are a known accomplice to a terrorist, don't you? But if you become a cooperating witness, you will be granted some leniency."

Leo barks a laugh, lifting his eyes to look at Bishop's face, and pointedly not the food. "What's the point?" he asks. "If I'm not... protected by the constitution, or whatever. Are you going to let me go?"

"No," says Bishop. "But as I have told you, your conditions will become more comfortable." He waves the tray of food.

Leo stares at him, before a manic smile splits his face.

"You... stupid bastard. I can't even answer your questions." He slams a shaking hand against his plastron. "I'm not even a yokai! Do you get that? I'm not a yokai!"

Bishop looks skeptical. "Obviously you are."

"I'm not!" Leo rages. "I'm a mutant! I'm from New York! I don't even live in the Hidden City!"

Bishop's eyes flash. "I see," he says, "so you do know of it."

Leo falters, his body going slack.

What an obvious, stupid mistake.

(Some face-man he is.)

It takes Leo a long moment to answer. Bishop stays right where he is, holding the food so tantalizingly close and yet still out of reach.

"...I don't know about the gateways," he says finally. "I don't know about their defensive capabilities. I don't know what Baron Draxum is planning."

"Your lies are obvious," says Bishop. "You really don't want this? It's your last chance today."

Leo stares at the food. His mouth is watering so hard it might start to drip. Would it really be so bad to answer? They don't live in the Hidden City. And Draxum dropped him off a roof.

Draxum is trying to change, says Mind Raph. You see what these guys are like. You can't turn the yokai over to them. They'll hurt them!

What about me? he asks. Is it okay if I get hurt?

You're a hero, Leo, says Mind Raph. You can deal with it for a little longer. It's just a room. Just a little cold. Just some hunger.

He's a hero. He can deal with it. He can. He can.

He'll make them proud. Show them they can trust him.

It takes everything he has, but he shakes his head.

Bishop tuts. Then he throws the entire plate in the trash.

"Tomorrow, then," he says. Then the window is gone.

Leo collapses on his cot and tries not to cry.

-----

After his third water bottle on day eight, one of the fluorescent lights over his head flickers and then dies out.

It's not surprising, since they keep them running twenty-four seven. The blessedly dimmed lighting is actually nice, for once. Leo thinks maybe he could get some sleep, if the gnawing hunger and the constant shivers don't keep him awake.

He's just closed his eyes and snuggled up under his cot when it occurs to him: they may come in to fix it. If keeping the lights on day and night is part of their plan to torture him, to keep him exhausted and anxious and on edge, then they have to.

Which means his chance is finally here.

He has to be careful about this. He has to be ready to move, but he can't let them know he's ready to move. He has to let them think he's too weak, too exhausted, to make an escape attempt.

(He can't let himself think that, though. He can't give up before he tries.)

So he stays under his cot, but subtly shifts it so it won't restrict his movement. He has to be ready to burst out as soon as he gets a chance. Get past whoever comes in, then get out the door. It's after the last water bottle, so it's nighttime. There will be fewer people. He can do this. He can do this.

Find his swords. Make a portal. Get out.

Just as he was thinking, after a long time has passed, there is a loud warning beep, different from the water bottle beep. An automated voice says from somewhere unseen, "Inmates clear the door. Security personnel entering. Stay still and you will not be harmed."

Then the door slides open, and someone comes in.

It's a man wearing fatigues. Leo thinks this is the one who "offered" him a sandwich the other day. He's holding some kind of gun with a long barrel. He does a sweep of the room with his eyes, coming to rest on Leo under his cot. He gives Leo the same leering grin, and waves the barrel of the gun in his direction.

"Now you behave, and we'll get along just fine," he says.

He steps to the side, and another man enters, this one wearing the kind of jumpsuit Leo sees janitors in on TV. He's carrying a stepladder in one hand and a long tube in the other. Is that what fluorescent lights look like? Leo didn't know.

The man walks to the middle of the room and sets up his stepladder. Then he walks up and pulls off the light casing. When he unhooks the old bulb, it causes the other bulb to flicker, just for a few moments.

Leo explodes out from under the cot, grabbing the man in fatigues by the legs and yanking as hard as he can. The man yelps in surprise, and Leo hears the sound of the gun going off in a random direction. The janitor shouts and drops the light bulb - the sound of shattering glass joins the cacophony.

Leo jumps to his feet and runs out the door they had been too stupid to close, sprinting toward the EXIT sign. He's exhausted and shaky but he's coursing with adrenaline, and he leans on it hard to keep him moving. Don't stop, don't stop, get out of here. He'll figure out what to do next once he's free.

Past the exit sign there's a large open room with desks and computer monitors. Most of them are off, but one lingering woman in a lab coat, seated at her desk, screams when she sees Leo dash through the middle of the office space.

"Security!" she screams into a device on her chest. "Inmate is escaping! Inmate is escaping!"

Leo doesn't have time to shut her up, he just keeps moving. He pushes through the next door and arrives in a hallway; he only has time to glance one way and then the other before scrambling to the left, hoping it was a good choice.

He rounds a corner and sees another green EXIT sign up ahead. It's not where he meant to go - he meant to find where they're keeping his swords first. But he hears shouting behind him and doesn't stop. Fine, so no portals - he'll figure out something else once he's away from here.

He throws himself forward into the exit door, which leads him into yet another hallway. Another long sprint, with shouting and slamming doors at his heels, and then finally, finally, a third EXIT sign, and he crashes outside.

Where there's snow on the ground, snow on the trees.

It steals his breath away. There shouldn't be snow. It's May.

Where is he?

He takes a breath of air so cold it seizes his lungs, then takes a step forward. He'll worry about that-

BANG!

A piercing pain in his shoulder nearly sends him toppling over. Leo shouts, grasping for the wound and feeling something sticking out of his skin. He grabs it and yanks, pulling it free.

It's a dart.

Damn it, he thinks, before his vision goes woozy, and he collapses into the snow.

-----

"Are you proud of your little escape attempt?" comes Bishop's voice.

Leo looks up from his cot. Bishop has to get so close to the window to see him that his nose is pressed flat against it. It should be hilarious, but Leo doesn't really have the energy to laugh. Or to do much of anything.

He's hungry. He's tired. He's cold. He's still sluggish from the drugs.

And they threw away all his water bottles. Fuckers.

Leo rolls over on the cot and covers his ears.

"What a childish response," says Bishop, and that's funny, too, because Leo literally is a child. Or a teenager, anyway. He doesn't feel like it will help him much to point that out, though.

"All you have to do is answer my questions, and all this will be fixed."

That's the funniest thing of all. The idea that he spills his guts and Bishop treats him to a five course meal to make up for all the pain up till now. Hilarious.

He says nothing.

Bishop sighs.

"You are likely still affected by the tranquilizing agent. I'll return tomorrow."

Before he leaves, he says, "Temperature down five degrees."

-----

The same man is back that night. He opens the window and looks down at Leo with the same leering smile. Leo can't even take satisfaction in the bandage on the side of his head.

"Neat little trick you had yesterday," he says. "Almost got me fired."

Leo wishes it had gotten him fired. But he clearly has no luck in this situation.

"You know, I respect the attempt. And you probably would have gotten farther with a little food in your belly." The man reaches down, then retrieves a sandwich, as mouth-wateringly unappetizing as the last time. "You sure you don't want this?"

And Leo knows he shouldn't trust this guy. Leo knows he should say no.

But he's just...

so...

hungry.

So he gets up. And he turns to the window. On shaking limbs that can barely hold him upright anymore. With a body that is laced with pain and aches and cramps.

And he nods.

The man's smile gets wider. "What do you say?" he asks, in the sing-song tone of a parent scolding a child.

It makes a sick nausea rise in Leo's throat. But he wants the sandwich.

"Please," he gasps out.

"Mmm... not good enough." The man waves the sandwich. "You want this? You beg for it."

Leo stares, eyes wide. But the sandwich... the sandwich...

He gets down on his knees. Feels a searing flush of humiliation. His stomach is rolling and gurgling and cramping with pain, a hollow, empty chasm inside him desperate to be filled.

He lowers his head.

"Please," he says. "I... I want the sandwich. I'm... begging you, please."

The man laughs, loud and long. When Leo finally finds it in him to raise his eyes, the sandwich is already half eaten.

"Hey, good job," says the man, licking a bit of mustard off his thumb. "That was real convincin'."

And then he takes another bite.

Just like that, Leo forgets about the pain, the aches, the cold, the hunger. All that's left is pure, white hot, screaming rage.

Leo lunges at the window and slams his fist into it so hard it cracks. Not enough to break the glass. Not enough to free him. But enough that the man startles and steps back.

And Leo starts to laugh. High and manic and unhinged even to his own ears.

"I'll kill you," he says, and his voice sounds almost joking, and yet- "I'll kill you. You're dead. You're dead, as soon as I get out of here, you're dead, I'll kill you, I'LL KILL YOU!"

The man has dropped the rest of his sandwich. He fumbles for his gun, left somewhere on a table to the side. For one satisfying moment, Leo sees a flash of genuine fear on the man's face.

"Shit," he says, his voice far away the further he gets from the microphone. "Pretty scary, frogboy."

Then he slams a button, and the window goes black, and Leo gets a glimpse of his own reflection.

His face is gaunt and drawn. His eyes are ringed by deep circles, so dark they look like bruises. His body is shaking like a leaf.

And his stripes...

His stripes are lit up like when he uses his ninpo, but they aren't their usual Neon Leon bright.

They're almost black.

Leo gasps and stumbles back just as the window goes white. The full body quakes he feels now aren't from the cold or the hunger or the exhaustion.

He turns and sinks onto the cot. Puts his face in his hands and tries to breathe. Tries to will his ninpo to stop rolling and snapping and to go back to normal.

This isn't what he wants. This isn't him.

This place is breaking him. He's letting it break him.

He pulls his legs up onto the cot and buries his face in his knees. Wraps his arms around them and rocks gently, the way Donnie used to do when things got overwhelming. Maybe he understands that better, now.

This isn't him. He's Leonardo, Neon Leon, the face-man, the jokester! The one who's always ready with a quip and a laugh. The one who can do anything!

Except portal out of his room. Except escape from this building. Except resist begging for a sandwich like he's a dog.

Leo's breath hitches, and for once he doesn't stop himself. He knows the guy outside is probably watching. He knows there are cameras recording this. He hates giving them the satisfaction.

But he's tired, and hungry, and he...

He wants to go home.

He cries, silently, until he's completely rung out.

-----

Maybe they aren't coming.

That's the thought that pops into his head, just a bit after the first water bottle of the day.

He knew they would have gotten a late start, because he stormed out. And he knew it would take them awhile to figure out who took him - he hadn't heard of the EPF before, so why would they? And he knew it would take them time to figure out where he had been taken, which must have been pretty far out if it's snowing outside. But the EPF got him here within a night, he's pretty sure, so unless they have a super fast jet, he must still be on the continent somewhere.

So... so surely they must have figured it out by now, right? Raph is leading the team. Donnie is doing science things. Mikey is razzing his tazz. April is using her investigative skills.

Unless they aren't coming.

Maybe... maybe it's true. Why would they want him back, after all? Leo took Raph's leader position, and since then all he'd managed to do was piss Raph off. Mikey and Donnie hadn't been happy about it, either, and he'd noticed that they'd been avoiding him more and more. April claimed she wasn't taking sides, but she always seemed to be on Raph's anyway. And Dad... well, he was probably disappointed that he made Leo leader only for him to do nothing and then get himself kidnapped.

He doesn't bring anything to the team. He doesn't bring anything to the family. And no one likes his jokes.

So. Maybe they just... aren't looking. Maybe they aren't going to come.

Maybe he's held out this long for no reason. Maybe he's been cold and starving for no reason at all.

Maybe it's time to give up.

---

Don't give up, says a new voice in his head.

You are not alone.

-----

He has no energy left to stand when Bishop comes. The man looks down at him, lips pressed into a thin line.

"You don't look well," he observes.

No shit, Leo wants to say.

"This has gone on long enough. Answer my questions, and we will provide you with food, clothing, and medical care."

The list is getting longer. Leo's fuzzy eyes stare up at Bishop. Medical care. Does he need that?

"You already know what I want to know." Bishop has a furrow between his eyebrows now. "Will you talk to me?"

He could. He could do it. He could finally have some relief from all the pain. All the hunger. All the cold.

But they might hurt the yokai in the Hidden City.

They might hurt Draxum.

They might hurt his family.

And maybe, if nothing else... if Leo could just keep his mouth shut, just this once...

Maybe that would finally make Raph, Dad, and everyone proud of him.

Maybe they'd finally trust him.

Maybe, at least, he can have that much.

Leo shakes his head.

Bishop scowls.

"Temperature down ten degrees."

-----

Leo isn't shivering anymore. That's probably a bad sign.

He can still see his breath, each time he exhales. It rises like smoke, before disappearing into the air.

He doesn't have any energy left, not even to chew on his new water bottles. He hasn't even collected the last two, and they sit crowded together in the slot, untouched.

He kind of wishes they had just dissected him from the beginning. It would have been faster. Freezing to death, he's decided, is a real zero out of ten. Starving to death isn't any better. No stars.

Even though the damn lights are still on, he feels extremely sleepy. It's probably the cold. He wonders what will happen if he brumates. He's never done it before, not like his little cousins, and he has no idea if it's even safe.

Probably not, given he has no calorie reserves left. All it means is he won't be drinking water, either.

But he's so sleepy.

It's going to be time soon for Bishop to come back. Leo doesn't know what the point is anymore. Maybe he'll just sleep through it. Yeah, that would really make him mad. And making Bishop mad is all he has at this point.

And he'll get to sleep. It's a win-win.

So thinking, Leo rolls himself over onto his belly. Then, one by one, he pulls his limbs into his shell.

He doesn't do this much anymore, not since he started growing. His body just doesn't seem to fit his shell like it should - a side effect of the mutation, probably. It's not really comfortable to be inside for long.

But Leo is sleepy. And his shell feels like the best place to be.

So he pulls in his legs, then his arms, and then, finally, his head.

It's not any warmer in here. But at least it's dark.

At least he's not shivering.

Leo sighs, content, and closes his eyes, and drifts to sleep.

-----

(Outside his cell, there's a bang, and shouting, and a gunshot.

The sound is muffled, and Leo sleeps on.)

-----

Part 2 (not yet out)

[bahablastplz]

Cosmic Love: Chan x Reader x Felix

A night at the club turns into a lot more than you anticipated, all thanks to a stupid text that you don't even remember sending. The next day, Chan and Felix invite you over for dinner. That's all it is, right? Content: Smut, minor angst, fluff Warnings: Use of petnames 'love,' and 'babygirl,' threesome, fingering, oral (f! and m! receiving), p in v sex, lots of praise, spanking (barely), humiliation/second hand embarrassment WC: 4700

It starts like this: 

Chan texts you the morning after you go to the club. Of course, you’re hungover out of your mind, but that’s to be expected. On Saturday morning, or afternoon you suppose, you roll out of bed with a loud groan, a pulsing headache making its way behind your eyes. 

You notice that your makeup has been removed and you’re now sporting clothes much comfier than your dress and heels that were suffocating you last night at the club. Your phone is also plugged in, and you have been notorious for waking up with a dead phone the morning after waking up from a night out. 

You have half the mind to wonder, how the hell were you cognizant enough last night to do all of this? You certainly don’t remember it. It all makes sense when you check your notifications, screen a little too bright for your liking, and see that Chan had texted you an hour ago. 

Channie: Hey babygirl  I don’t know if you remember, but Felix and I brought you home last night~  You were pretty fucked up haha  If you’re feeling up to it, you want to join us for dinner tonight at my place?  Me you and Lix  Hope you’re feeling okay this morning. Let us know if you need anything, yeah? 

You groan. Of course Chan and Felix brought you home last night, that makes so much more sense. Chan has always been a natural caretaker, and if he was at the club last night and you tried to go home with some random guy or even take an Uber, he surely would have become overprotective and offered to take you home himself. 

Your heart pangs when you read the text again. Babygirl. The pet name makes it easy to remember the major crush you’ve been harboring for him for forever. Him and Felix both, honestly. You really really hope you didn’t say anything embarrassing last night that you can’t remember. That would be just your luck, honestly. Taking a deep breath, you make a note to take some Advil as you text him back. 

Y/N: Thanks so much  I’ll be there! Can’t wait 

He texts you back almost instantly: 

Channie:  Sick  We’re super excited 

A red flag should have raised over the fact that, though him and Felix were your closest friends, they almost never invited you over to their place. They almost always come over to yours when you hang out, and hangouts usually happen more organically. You brush the thought aside, chalking it up to Chan’s protective nature and need to make sure you’re okay after what was likely a rough night out. 

That’s all it is, right? 

You’re only giddy because of this stupid crush on your friends you can’t quite push away. There’s not anything more going on and there’s no lines to read between. You repeat this like a mantra as you get ready tonight, putting on just a little bit of makeup (for no reason in particular!!!), and repeat it once more as you knock on Chan’s door, bottle of wine in hand. 

He opens the door with a large smile, all teeth, that makes your heart beat a little faster. When you hand him the bottle of wine you’re met with a hearty laugh. “You sure you didn’t have enough of this last night?” he teases. You shove his chest lightly, giving him a devilish grin.

“What if I brought it for you?” You quip back. 

“I think we were imagining a type of fun that didn’t involve alcohol.” You give him a smile at his words, brows furrowing for a second before brushing off his words. He probably just means they intend to stay sober tonight. You’ve had plenty of nights that were fun that didn’t involve alcohol, so that’s all he meant by his words! Shrugging, you put the wine in the fridge instead of cracking it open, taking his advice to save the drink for another day. 

Dinner is amazing. Chan made it with Felix’s observation, as according to Chan the other shouldn’t be allowed in the kitchen ever again. You laugh as he dives into several stories of baking incidents gone wrong, including a time that Felix and Seungmin ended up burning everything they made. You defend your friend, telling Chan that Felix ‘does make killer brownies,’ which the other can’t argue with. It’s decided that Felix should do most of his cooking alone, as anytime he cooks with anybody else it ends up in a minor disaster. Felix looks thoroughly flushed and embarrassed by the end of your conversation so the two of you relent on your teasing. 

You decide on a movie. It’s not even really that entertaining and you’re barely paying attention if you’re being honest. It’s some movie you’d seen a hundred times before. You find your place between Chan and Felix, your body squished between your two friends. You nuzzle your head into Chan’s shoulder and prop your legs up onto Felix. You’re comfortable, very much so, though you tense for a second when you feel Felix’s hand rest on your thigh. You can also feel Chan’s breath on your neck, and you suddenly feel hot. Very hot. 

You hope they can’t feel how warm to the touch you’ve become, and at such a simple action at that. Are you really that pathetic? God, your crush on them has gotten out of hand, you think, but when Felix’s hand raises further up your thigh and starts rubbing teasing circles you’re not so sure this is all in your head anymore. Chan has always been touchy with you and Felix moreso, but this is just a little bit out of character for them. You’re worried to speak up for a second, scared that your words would make Felix retract his hand. When he looks up at you with an inquisitorial gaze, however, you can’t help the words that spill from your mouth. “Lix–” 

You’re not prepared for the words that come from the man behind you. 

“Tell me, Y/N,” Chan says lowly. “Do you want me to fuck you nice and hard?” He punctuates his words and your body physically tenses. Your world has come to a full stop. 

“What?” 

“Do you want me to–” 

“I… I heard you,” you interrupt. “I’m just… I’m not quite sure what you mean.” You feel afraid to look up at Chan from behind you, and you certainly don’t look at Felix; though his hand has stilled, it still rests firmly on your thigh. 

“I don’t know if you remember this,” Chan says. His demeanor has changed, and you’re met with a chuckle and a deep breath. He seems very shy compared to the man just seconds ago speaking into your ear. “Last night when you were at the club, you texted me and Lix in a group chat.” 

Fuck. 

That makes so much more sense, you think. No way would you have gotten that fucked up without doing something you would regret. You reach for your phone but a hand rests on top of yours, stilling your movement. 

“No, it’s okay,” he says in response to your panic. “I already have it pulled up. I was thinking I could read it to you.” 

“Chan, I’m sorry, I’m sure I didn’t–” 

He shushes you. For some reason sparks shoot up your spine at the action. You purse your lips shut, an action that implies your silence and you wait for him to continue. 

“Last night you were dancing with us,” he starts. “You were drunk out of your mind. I think you knew that already. But you texted Lix and I, and we could just tell you had enough to drink so we offered to take you home. But while we were in the car,” he laughs lightly. You don’t feel like laughing back, “While we were in the car, you texted us. It wasn’t meant for us, but you told us some things that you wanted us to, um, do to you.” 

“That’s not the worst part,” Felix provides unhelpfully. You glare at the man and he smiles sweetly. “Chris’ phone was connected to bluetooth and it read your texts out loud in the car.” 

You groan. Thank God you were drunk enough last night to not remember that because you’re not sure you can even relive the memory. In fact, even now you wish for the world to split open and swallow you whole. 

“Emmaaaaa,” Chan starts, reading your texts out loud in a voice that is obviously meant to resemble your own. You realize now that the text was meant for your best friend, the one that you use to hopelessly rant to about your strong unrequited crush for the two boys in question. 

“God they’re so finee  I want Channie and Lixie so bad fr  I just want them to ruin me  You know I’ve never been fucked right but I want Chan to just fuck me nice and hard ughhshh  I know you’re so tired of hearing me talk about this  But he’s so perfect I just know he could fuck me up sooo good  And Felix? I just want him to whisper filthy things in my ears With his perfect voice  He looks like such an angel I just want to see what he’s really like, if he’ll fuck me soft or nice and hard like Channie  I need them both to ruin me!!!! You don’t understand If I don’t get someone’s cock in my mouth–” 

“Oh my god that’s enough,” you interrupt. You’re not sure you can listen to another second of past-you embarrassing yourself, and you tell him as much when you shoot out of his grasp and turn around to look at him. He has a sly fucking grin on his mouth and you can’t help but feel like you’re the butt of a joke you didn’t ask to be a part of. “I… I can’t listen to you embarrass me anymore. I’m so sorry about what I said and I really didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Hell, you know I don’t even remember it, and I know that really doesn’t excuse it but I hope you know I never wanted to ruin our friendship. I know you guys don’t feel the same way so if you want, I can go and–” 

Chan puts his hands around your shoulders, halting your movements when you try to stand. 

“Woah woah woah, babygirl,” he says, trying to interrupt your sad attempt at salvaging your relationship. “It’s not what you think, actually. You could never ruin your friendship with us, okay?” You feel tears prick at your eyes, truly humiliated with how the night has progressed. Even now, Chan is here trying to be nice to you so you won’t feel bad about what happened which is somehow even more humiliating. 

“Did you really mean what you said?” Felix says, finally. 

“Can I even take it back now?” you say, laughing sardonically. “You know, drunk actions are sober thoughts, or whatever they say? I’m so sorry, again. Like I said, if you want me to leave I can.” Your eyes flit between Felix and Chan, gauging for a reaction, any sense that they may be uncomfortable with your actions. You’re surprised to find none. 

“If you really meant it,” Chan says, inhaling through his teeth and clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth, “Then we kind of had a proposal for you.” 

“What kind of proposal?” you ask suspiciously. 

“The kind where maybe we have sex? All three of us,” he suggests. 

What. 

What?

“What!?” Your brain supplies the only word it can think of. This is a joke, right? Your feelings that have been unrequited for so long are being reciprocated this casually? You stare blankly at the two men who are waiting for some sort of response. 

“I… I’m not sure if I can,” you answer finally. Though everything in your body is telling you yes yes yes, the arousal already pooling in between your legs, your brain finally seems to be the one in the forefront making the decisions. “I can’t do that, have ‘just sex’ with you. Either of you. And maybe I’m about to make a fool of myself even more tonight, but I have to admit that my feelings for you both run a lot deeper than just… sexual.” You let out a heavy sigh when you finally admit the truth. “I’m scared that I won’t be able to detach my emotions from it all, and I really don’t want to ruin what we have going on.” 

You’re met with silence and you open your eyes but don’t look at either of them, instead opting to look at the floor. Did Chan get a new carpet? It looks really nice–

“I don’t think it would be ‘just sex,’ babygirl.” Chan and that goddamned pet name that makes your heart flutter. “We’ve, uh, both liked you for a very long time. And we want this to go further, if you’re interested of course.” 

For the second time in one night, you feel as if the world has tilted on its axis. Maybe it has, because you feel a little bit dizzier now and your heart beats a little bit faster than it did just seconds ago. 

“Are you sure?” you ask, worrying your lip between your teeth. Felix takes his thumb and pulls your lip out from between your teeth, his thumb lingering for a second before pushing into your mouth. Your eyes close and your tongue swirls around the appendage. 

“Do you want this, love?” The deep timbre of his voice sends shivers down your spine and your eyes open, meeting his gaze. For a second, it feels as if nothing but you and Felix exist in this entire world, and you ponder his words for a second. If they really mean it and they have both liked you for a while now, you don’t have to worry about separating feelings from sex. You ponder what this means for your relationships going forward for a second but the pulsing need between your legs and the way your breath hitches when his thumb pushes further into your mouth tells you all you need to know. You want this. You nod your head and know it’s the right choice when you’re met with a reassuring smile. 

“If you’re sure, then we’re sure,” Chan says from beside you. You feel his fingers on your leg, veiny hands rubbing small circles on the expanse of your thigh. When he grips the plush of your thigh hard you can’t help the gasp that comes from your mouth, and Felix’s thumb releases from your mouth, wet with your saliva. You feel his hand come to rest on your face as he caresses you softly, brushing a stray hair away from your face as he leans in to kiss you. 

You breathe into the kiss but let him take the lead, soft and plush lips delicate against your own. When his tongue barely brushes your bottom lip you’re already opening your mouth for him eagerly, letting his tongue come into contact with yours. The kiss is passionate but almost too romantic for what you’re about to let him do to you. When you moan into the kiss he deepens it, hands pulling your face even closer to his own. 

You note the movement on the couch next to you and Chan taps your shoulder. When you turn your head to look at him he’s crashing his lips into yours in a bruising kiss, messy and desperate and it catches you off guard but you return his advances eagerly, lips and tongue moving expertly against one anothers. 

Felix’s hand comes and snakes around your waist, stopping your kiss just long enough to lift your shirt over your head. His warm breath hits your neck and it’s all you can focus on besides Chan’s wet tongue against yours, but then Felix’s fingers rub your nipples over the fabric of your bra and you’re keening backwards into his touch, running away while simultaneously trying to get more at the same time. 

When Chan finally breaks the kiss it’s with a groan and a long string of saliva connects you, wet and dirty. He sits back and admires the work that Felix is doing, having you come completely undone for him with just his fingers against your still clothed breasts. It’s Chan that reaches and unclasps your bra, leaving you utterly exposed in front of the two men in front of you and he wastes no time before joining Felix in his ministrations. 

The teasing becomes too much, tongue and teeth and pinching over your abused breasts, and at this point you’re not sure how much more squeezing of your thighs together you can do before it comes to much. 

“Please,” you breathe, and you’re not even quite sure what you’re asking for. 

“Please what, babygirl?” Chan coos at you, words laced with a teasing lilt. You reach forward and grab his hand and it’s like your breath stops when you place his hand right between your legs where you need him the most. “Want me to touch you?” He asks. His breathing is heavy and you admire his attempt at trying to keep his composure. 

“Yes, please,” you nod, eyes never leaving his. Not even when his hand cups your clothed pussy and you buck up into him with a cry. Felix shifts from behind you and pulls your back into his chest as Chan reaches down to pull down your shorts with one swift motion. 

You’re completely bare for them now, and you have little time to dwell on this fact before Felix grabs your legs and spreads them open, hooking them over his own. His hands rest on your thighs, holding you into place and giving Chan access to your sopping core. 

“God, babygirl you’re soaked,” Chan notes, two fingers swiping in between your folds. You can hear it, the wetness pooled between your legs, but when he leans his face forward and meets his tongue with your clit you can’t help the surprise that creeps from your throat. 

He’s relentless, his tongue flicking and circling your clit mercilessly. Your legs shake and try to close but are held open by Felix’s own. 

You look up at the man behind you with teary eyes and open mouth, thinking about asking him to give you mercy but the expression on his face tells you all you need to know. He’s enjoying this just as much as Chan is. 

“Does that feel good?” he asks into your ear. 

“Yes, oh my god,” you tell him as his lips come down to meet yours in a short peck. They ultimately land on your neck, nipping at the junction between your neck and ear. 

“Tell me how good,” he instructs. “Tell me how good he’s making you feel.” 

“So good, Felix, oh,” you moan. Two of Chan’s fingers thrust into you, in motion with the way that his tongue abuses your clit and it’s already too much. “God, Felix, he’s making me feel so good. He’s… He’s eating me out so good, his tongue feels…oh my–” you know you’re babbling but you can’t help the moan that interrupts your words. Felix shushes you, and you think his hands are going to find place in your hair to soothe you but instead they make way to your breasts, still sensitive from just minutes prior. 

His thumb and pointer finger pinch your nipples between his fingers, tugging and twisting them. Your back arches at his touch and your skin prickles at his low voice in your ear. 

“You’re doing so, so good for us, love. Fuck, you’re being so good letting Channie eat your pussy like that,” he says. One hand comes to grab the flesh at your hip, kneading it as he continues to tease your pebbled nipple between his fingers. “Do you like being good for us?” 

“Yes, fuck, fuck, I like being good for you,” you cry out. “Love it so much, oh my god–” and as Chan’s fingers curl up inside of you, you find your orgasm being ripped out of you with no warning. You’re cumming hard around his fingers, pulsing tightly as he lets you ride out your high on his face. Behind you Felix takes to setting a slow pace in rubbing his hands up and down your body, grounding you with his touch as he whispers praises in your ears. 

When you finally open your eyes again, you truly feel like you have woken up in a different dimension. 

“Holy fuck–” you rasp, noting when Felix wipes a tear from your eyes you hadn’t realized you had shed. 

“Do you think you can take us, babygirl?” Chan asks as he pulls his fingers from your center. He reaches across your body to offer his soaking fingers to Felix, who eagerly takes them in his mouth for the chance to taste you. You don’t miss the way he moans around Chan’s fingers. 

“Yes,” you say softly. “Want you both.” 

Felix reaches down and kisses you, much more comfortable this time with the way that he allows himself to be rougher with you, pushing his tongue into your mouth with a boldness that was lacking earlier. When you pull apart you notice the large hands on your waist that aren’t his and you’re being flipped around by Chan before you can process it. Your ass is up in the air and you’re on all fours now, squeaking when Chan lands a quick hit to your ass and kneads the flesh. 

When you tilt your head up to look at Felix you notice him pulling his pants and boxers down past his thighs, letting his cock spring free and resting at your face. He taps it against your cheek and he looks down at you, silently checking to make sure  you’re okay. Looking up at him with bright wide eyes you blink, asking him for permission as you open your mouth wide for him. 

He pushes in with a groan, letting his cock rest on your tongue for a second. You suckle on his tip and let your tongue swirl around his head, watching how reactive he is with amusement. Even though you haven’t fully started sucking him off yet he is breathy, eyes dark in the way he looks at you and strokes your hair. 

He pushes his length further into your mouth and you groan, taking him fully. He sets the pace, slow and languid, pulling his cock fully out of your mouth before shoving it back in with expertise. 

You barely register the hands behind you that grab your ass until you feel Chan’s tip prodding at your entrance, barely pushing inside you. You let out a shaky breath around Felix and Chan takes that as a sign to push into you fully. 

The stretch is welcoming. Your jaw goes slack as you take a moment to process the protrusion, clenching tightly around him as he stills. Felix uses your mouth now, setting the rhythm for the man behind you as well. Relaxing, you let yourself be used by both of the men. You feel Chan’s thighs smack the back of yours, wet and messy and relentless. This causes you to jerk forward, pushing you back and forth onto Felix’s cock. Chan’s hands press into your hips, desperate and harsh and sure to leave bruises in its wake.

“God, love, your mouth,” Felix moans. His hand in your hair is soft in its caresses, contradictory from the way his hips snap into your face ruthlessly. “You’re doing so fucking good for us, baby. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? For Chan to fuck you nice and hard, yeah? For me to whisper filthy things in your ear?” 

You do what you can to nod your head, though it’s pathetic with the way your mouth is full of him. You know you look utterly debauched, absolutely used from the two men you’ve found yourself in between. The mascara you applied before is running down your face along with tears of pleasure, and you find yourself continuously blinking them away to look up at Felix. Your hands find place on the bed beside you, fingers curling into the sheets. You’re close, incredibly so, and you know it’s not much longer until you come over the edge. 

Felix lets out a low groan and you feel his cock twitch in your mouth. With a sharp grasp on your hair he spills into your mouth, right down your throat in hot spurts. You swallow around him thickly and he pulls out, wiping a bit of spit off of your mouth with his thumb. 

You fall forward into Felix’s lap, arching your back in order to give Chan full access to your dripping hole. He takes full advantage of it, fucking into you with reckless abandon. Now that your mouth is free, you have full opportunity to speak–though, the only thing that comes out of your mouth now are loud moans and broken, choked sobs. 

“Chan, fuck, oh my, I’m gonna cum, fuck I’m gonna come–” you babble. 

“Sweet girl, is he fucking you stupid?” Felix asks, wrapping his arms around you and making you look into his eyes. When you meet his gaze you nod your head sporadically. 

Chan grunts from behind you, his hips starting to stutter. “Fuck, Lix. I’m close,” he warns. “Touch her pretty clit for me, make her cum for us.” Felix does as instructed, snaking his hand down to where Chan pushes in and out between your bodies. “So good, love. Cum for us,” he says into your ear. 

His fingers barely brush your clit when you’re cumming hard around Chan’s cock, squeezing around his length hard. He rocks his hips into yours, helping you ride out your release before he pulls out and cums all over your ass. You’re whining and clutching onto Felix, though you don’t realize it; his hand runs small circles onto your back. When he looks down at you it’s as if you hung the stars, gaze so full of adoration that your heart batters against your chest in response loud enough that he very well might hear it. 

Somewhere behind you, Chan leaves and then returns with something to clean you up. You only know this when you feel the soft material on your back and you let out a grunt of appreciation. Chan sits next to you now, spooning you from the side where you lay across Felix’s body. 

“Are you okay?” Chan speaks softly. 

You scoff. “I just fucked the two people I’ve been in love with for years. You think I’m not okay?” 

“Love. You love us?” Felix asks. 

You laugh. You can’t help it, because how the fuck do you keep on embarrasing yourself like this? It’s as if they can read your mind, because before you can backtrack or word-vomit they’re already speaking. 

“I don’t know if I made this clear,” Chan starts. “But my feelings for you, they’re strong. I love you too. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” 

“Same here, love. We’ve wanted this for forever. If you’ll let us have you, we want you to be ours.” He whispers a soft ‘I love you’ into your hair and you find yourself overcome with emotion. 

The movie is still playing on the TV. It makes you laugh when you realize something. 

“Did you both seriously invite me over for dinner just so you could seduce me?” 

“Hey hey!” Chan laughs, tickling your side for a moment. “You’re the one that begged for us to ruin you, babygirl. Did you get what you wanted?” 

“I don’t know,” you say, pretending to be in thought. “I’m not feeling super ruined at the moment.” 

“That can be arranged.” 

*** Last installment of the threesome series <3 Thank you everyone for reading. If you want to check out the other three chapters, you can find them in my masterlist.

Taglist: @lolareadsimagines @elizalabs3 @chvn-max

[moonstruckme]

omg ok idea! James or Sirius with a gf whose chatty but just not super crass and May be she comes home drunk from girl's night and is just openly trying to seduce him and he's just so taken aback like who is this person?!

Thanks for requesting!

cw: intoxication, dubious consent but nothing more than kissing

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 717 words

Sirius has never received such determined kisses in his life. 

He turns his lips from yours, smearing them over your brow in consolation when you make a piteous, dejected sound he’s going to pretend for your benefit isn’t hilarious. You keep planting kisses on his jaw, his neck. Sirius catches your wrists in his hands when you start pulling up the hem of his shirt. 

“Hey, hey,” he laughs. “What happened to ‘hello’? Is this how we greet each other now, sweetness?” 

The kisses had begun the second he’d shut the door on your friends. They’d chatted for a minute before that, and you’d had this strange smile on your face as you waited for them to go. At the time, Sirius had chalked it up to your obvious inebriation, but now he knows it for depravity. 

“Preferably,” you mumble, mouth busy with the bits of chest you can get at by pulling down the collar of his shirt. Sirius isn’t sure whether you can’t stand on your own or whether you’ve just decided pressing yourself fully against him is the way to go. Any other time, he really wouldn’t be opposed. 

“What’s gotten into you?” he asks, delighted and exercising every ounce of self restraint in his battered soul to keep from kissing you back. He starts pulling you towards the couch, your uncoordinated feet following behind. 

You pause in your ravishment to grin up at him. You look positively impish. “Like, d’you want a list?” 

Sirius laughs, astonished. “What happened to my shy girl? Were you freaky fridayed by someone in the club?” 

“Freaky fridayed in the club.” You snort, flopping down onto the couch when he does and immediately getting into his lap. “That could mean lots of things.” 

Sirius feels a tug on his mouth. “Such as?” 

You bury your head in his neck, voice vibrating against his skin. “It’d make a good band name.” 

“It might,” he agrees, taking your face between both hands and removing you from him like a leech. A very pretty, beloved leech. “Do you feel like it might be time for bed, lovebug?” 

Your eyes spark. “Yeah,” you say heartily. 

“To sleep,” he clarifies. 

“Oh.” Your face falls. “Well, no. I thought we could have sex first.” 

Sirius guffaws, the sound short and loud, and his amusement really only worsens when you frown sullenly.

“Baby,” he tries gentling his tone, “I would love that, but you know why we can’t.” 

“Why?” you ask obstinately. 

Sirius pushes his thumbs into your cheeks, making wishful dimples on either side of your frown. “Because of what’s gotten into you.” 

“But I want to,” you whine. 

He pouts right back at you. “Me too, darling. It’s a tragedy.” 

“Not even a kiss?” you ask, tilting your head in his hands and looking up at him with huge, sweet eyes. Have you been able to do that this whole time? Fuck, he’s lucky you’re not often feeling bold enough to use it. 

“I could do a kiss,” he concedes. 

“A nice one,” you demand.

Sirius feels his lips pull up. “Agreed. A nice one.” 

You close your eyes, expectant, and he bends towards you, pressing his lips to yours sweetly. You taste like all manner of booze, but still his girl. You make a soft sound in your throat, lips parting for his, coaxing him in. In an extraordinary show of willpower, Sirius pulls away. 

“Hey.” You look betrayed, and he can’t help himself, planting a quick peck on your nose that makes it scrunch adorably. “You said it’d be a nice one!”

“That felt pretty nice to me,” he says, laughing when you try to move in for more and he has to dodge you. He turns his head to the side and catches at your hands when they go for his shirt. “That’s it for tonight. If you want more kisses tomorrow, I promise to let you have as many as you like.” 

You sigh, giving up and hooking your chin on his shoulder. “Your lips were, like, buzzing,” you mumble, wistful. “It was nice.” 

“Pretty sure that’s just you, sweetness,” Sirius tells you kindly, breaking his promise once more to press his lips to your hair. “Ready for bed now?”

“To sleep?” you ask despondently. 

“Yeah, baby. To sleep.”

[sixosix]

BABY, CAN WE DANCE THROUGH AN AVALANCHE? | LYNEY

notes 1.5k words, aether and lyney have a talk :o

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They watch in stunned silence as you storm off, ice materializing where you go. To Lyney, it’s an all-too-familiar sight. He’s seen it before: your back turned on him, and his body frozen from not just the frost but fear. Why didn’t you say it back?

Aether is able to snap out of it quickly, wiping off his hurt for the sake of chasing after you.

“Y/N!” he calls out, moving to run, but he couldn’t get too far.

Lyney whips an arm in front of him. “Don’t.”

To everyone’s surprise, it’s Lyney who says it. Lynette stares at her brother, bewildered—how, of all times, does he choose to surrender now? If anything, they expected Lyney to be the one to chase after you first. Why didn’t you say it back? But Lyney has his eyes trained on Aether, cold and calculating.

None of this would’ve happened if I never met you.

“What did she mean by that, Traveler?”

Lyney tips his head as far as it can go, blood rushing to his head and leaving him a little dizzy. To his dismay, the loveseat stays firmly in place. It would’ve been better if he fell—perhaps it would’ve hurt less than whatever the hell you two have going on.

“Are you still sulking?” Lynette asks, sitting beside him and jostling the seat.

Lyney grunts.

Lynette sips her tea, her tail flicking against his arm in a gesture of comfort. The air no longer held the tense chill in the warmth of their home, but they could still feel it. Lynette could hide it with her face, but her ears were tucked—she was nervous.

Aether’s in their home. Lyney is unhappy about this arrangement and is not afraid to show it. He doesn’t spare the Traveler a glance, doesn’t give him words of comfort. Aether has been obediently silent so far, which was somewhat weird. Lyney had been expecting Aether to rub it on his face that Lyney had been—for a lack of better words—dumped. Instead, he sits there by the chair they pulled from the dining table, looking like a distressed puppy.

“Are we not going to do anything?” Aether asks, which is the question they’ve all been thinking in their heads.

“We will,” Lyney says. Of course they will. Just not like this. He has watched you leave before, and you have returned to him eventually—he can be patient again. This is just far too delicate right now.

It has only been about thirty minutes, at most. Lyney already has a plan, and it’s not his most favorite, but he can’t face you at the moment. Or, instead, it’s you who can’t face him at this moment.

Lynette is aware of his plan, even without him saying anything. Aether obviously doesn’t have the advantage of twin telepathy, so he sits there wondering, distressed, and confused.

“I know it’s a little too late to ask this, but who exactly is Y/N to you two?” asks Aether, his voice loud in the room's dead silence.

“It’s a long story,” Lynette says.

“Would it change anything if I told you?” Lyney challenges.

“To me, it would change something,” answers Aether, open and frustratingly honest.

Lyney lowers his gaze. “Then listen. At least now you’ll understand what you got yourself into.”

When you left the House, you also left an unsettling silence that jarred Lyney even to this day; he can’t visit so freely and not bear the weight of your disappearance. It was eerie and dark, and everyone was afraid to even speak your name for the first few days—like you were dead, like you weren’t to be seen again, and even the thought of that pained Lyney like no other.

The House was no longer your home; he had to accept that eventually. But it was fun and beautiful when you were still a part of it, and he would never choose to forget nor act like it never happened, as fleeting as it was. 

When Lyney first saw you, he felt childlike wonder. At first glance, it was nothing special—just curiosity. You were beautiful and stood out amongst the other orphans, like a glow, and Lyney was just a moth.

Before the House, magic was just a means of survival. He performed for the money, hoping that he and his sister could live another day. But when he saw you, striking the air hard and fast, Lyney thought you wore it like it was something special. You were performing, too, for the eyes of praise, but he understood that you weren’t the same. You were bright, lit up with a smile. You were enjoying it. Maybe that was what Lyney lacked; maybe that was what drew him to you.

He could be wrong. Maybe it was already love by then, or at least the beginning of it.

Lyney remembered moments that he’d bet you wouldn’t. Like when his sister got her Vision, and he was left behind. He was crumpled on the floor, a pathetic mess, while her sister was thrown into the face of danger. He couldn’t sit still, but he couldn’t do anything either.

“Are you still sulking?”

Lyney whined pitifully. “How can I protect her when she’s so far away?”

You glanced at him briefly, then traced the dull tip of your weapon. “You’re twins, are you not? Have you considered that Lynette was thinking of how to protect you, too?”

“What are you getting at?”

“You’re not the only one working harder to protect the one you love. The least you could do in return for Lynette’s hard work is to stop whining and keep up with her, no?”

Lyney blinked, offended and furious, but his anger was washed over by the warm feeling he sometimes got when you talked to him like this. “Are you also working hard?” he asked, settling beside you.

“I have to.”

You felt so much older than he was. So goddamn beautiful that it felt like Lyney was forced to never look away, painfully captivated. 

But as he learned more about you, he realized a few things: You were his age; you were never older than him; you were just trying to survive; you were more alike than he first thought. It felt like when it was just him and Lynette, and he had to act brave for his sister. Only it seemed you were doing it by yourself, for yourself.

Still beautiful, but in all the wrong ways. He found contentment in this pattern of pursuit, of pushing and pulling—it was the kind of thrill that he relished above all, and he could tell that, in some part of you that you wouldn’t admit, you liked it, too.

Lyney wonders to this day where it all went wrong.

Lyney finishes his story. Lynette sits quietly by the side, both of them watching Aether curiously. Aether has his head hanging low, frowning, no doubt surprised that the children of the House have deeper stories than he expects. They are not just Fatui. They were children, too—orphans trying to survive.

Lyney hopes Aether understands.

They are orphans who have hopes and dreams and hobbies. Orphans that had motivations and banter and dumb crushes. Orphans like you and Lyney, a complication, a commotion: something that Lyney wouldn’t trade for the world (until you did). Orphans that just happened to be Fatui.

“If you had a choice, would you still be a Fatuus?” Aether asks.

”It was never a choice for me; it was simply the path we were meant to take,” Lyney says.

Aether sinks into the couch, and Lyney thinks he finally gets it.

“Tell me what she meant by saying all this is your fault.”

Aether winces. “Well, I suppose it’s only fair, right?”

And so Aether tells them both about how he really met you. It was a devised plan, albeit a failed one due to the complications of their relationship and your unfinished business with ‘Father’ and the one next in line for the throne. Even now, you have to lie about yourself and run from the backlash.

“So you were doing it because of… us,” Lynette trails off.

“And look where that got me,” Aether sighs. “I know it doesn’t mean anything, but I really am sorry. I underestimated all of you.”

Lyney snorts. “At least you’re right about one thing.”

Aether’s gaze sinks to the ground guiltily.

Perhaps, to Aether, savior of regions, known worldwide as a hero, it was difficult to comprehend. Perhaps he met too many Fatui that had been out to get him, and stabbed him in the back, but Lyney needed Aether to understand that the Fatui was a large organization—you have The Doctor, then you have Lyney and his siblings. Lyney could only hope that Aether wouldn’t become so hostile after meeting you, too bright for this world, that you got snuffed out.

“Why did you do it?” Lyney asks. For whose sake was Aether trying so hard for?

“My sister.”

Lyney’s brows raise. “Your sister?”

“I’m doing all of this for her.”

You’re not the only one working harder to protect the one you love.

Lyney supposes he can’t hate Aether that much for that. And selfishly, Lyney supposes he can’t truly hate Aether because he brought you back to him. In a vague sense of camaraderie, Lyney understands.

Aether scratches at the back of his head. “Well, you have a plan, right?”

Lynette nods. “We’re waiting for him.”

“Who are we waiting for?”

Lyney directs his gaze to the ceiling, beyond it, to the sky. If any Archon was listening…  “The only person Y/N probably trusts right now.”

a/n this chapters very short i know but the next one is going to be posted in a few hours so theres going to be more

TAGLIST moved to comments bc tumblr is being annoying :(

[bitchesuntitled]

Wrong Delivery

Summary: Sleepin' with the hot construction guy doing the remodel at your work, he winds up buying flowers for someone else...

Warnings/Tags: 18+ MDNI go on get! No outbreak/pre outbreak(you decide), fluff, smut, miscommunication, cussing, oral f!receiving, unprotected piv(don't do that, make smart choices), cream pie, Joel being a dork.

A/N: First time I've ever actually finished a Joel story I started working on! Many thanks to @strang3lov3 for the encouragement and taking a look at this, @jay-zzle as always for giving me ideas and making moodboards for me because I hate doing them myself! ❤️❤️❤️

🌹This is for @morallyinept’s flora & fauna challenge! 🌹

Divider provided by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist||AO3 Link

As you rush into the building, trying to avoid the construction team surrounding the place, a timid smile crosses your face when you spot Joel, the man responsible for why you’re running late this morning. Instead of getting ready for work like you were supposed to, Joel Miller decided he wanted to spend his morning coaxing another orgasm out of you, as if the three last night weren’t enough. It’s been a couple of months of this. 

It had never been your intention to start sleeping with the hot contractor who had been doing construction at your place of work, you both just happened to be at the same bar one night. One thing led to another and now it’s been this, whatever this is.

“Mornin’ guys,” you say passing the crew, each giving their own sort of greeting back, be it a grunt of acknowledgment or repeating the greeting.

“Mornin’ ma’am,” Joel says with a cheeky smile, “Runnin’ a little late?”

“Yeah, woke up late,” you shrugged, feeling your face heat up.

“There you are!” Becky shouts, making her way towards you, “Angie is up my ass right now about where you are with those reports you said you’d get done yesterday.”

“On it,” you sigh, “Nice talking to you Joel.”

“Oh!” Becky said with a smile, grabbing his bicep, “Hi Joel! You guys sure have been working hard on all of this.”

You try to keep your eyes from rolling at Becky’s consistent attempt at flirting with Joel. She has definitely tried her hardest to get his attention, made cookies “for the crew” but only handed some of them to Joel, tries to talk to him every chance she can, wearing lower cut tops so her cleavage is on full display, batting eyelashes and laughing at any dumb thing he says. It’s starting to get on your nerves, if you’re being honest. Making your way to your desk you open the drawer, shoving your purse inside before closing it and turning on your computer. You open the teams app, sending Angie a quick message to let her know you’ll put the file with the reports in the folder outside her door, grabbing the file and making your way to her office.

Becky is still talking Joel’s ear off and you have to stifle your laugh, watching his eyebrows scrunch together and his polite nod before excusing himself. She catches you as you're on your way back to your cubicle to start the work day.

“That Joel Miller is a man,” Becky sighs, walking beside you, “The things I would let him do to me.”

“Oh jeez,” you laugh awkwardly, sitting down at your desk.

“I wonder what his dick is like,” she continues, “I bet it’s big.”

You turn to your computer hoping she can’t see the look on your face because then the jig would be up.

“Uhm,” you say, clearing your throat, “You better be careful. Don’t wanna get turned into HR.”

—

“Hello,” a frazzled delivery guy announces himself at the entrance to your cubicle. “I have a delivery for you, miss.”

“For me?!” Becky asks excitedly, seeing the bouquet of flowers. The delivery guy nodded, handing her the flowers. “Who are they from?!”

“Uh… Joel Miller?” The guy says, looking at his sheet. Your jaw drops upon hearing his words. Why on earth would Joel send Becky flowers?

“Oh my god!” Becky squeals with delight, grabbing the card, “Aw! Look! It says darlin’ on the envelope!”

Becky opens the card, reading it aloud:

“Figured a pretty lady like you should have some flowers to look at. Been havin’ the time of my life gettin’ to know ya and would love to take you out. He signed it off with a heart and J. Miller! How sweet is that?!”

Beside yourself on handling this, the only thing you could think of was finding the man himself. If this entire thing between you two was just for fun so be it, but you needed answers.

“Real sweet,” you mutter standing up, “I’m…  uh… I’ll be back.”

“Okay.” Becky hums dreamily, staring at the flowers on her desk.

You make your way to the front of the building, spotting Gus, one of the construction guys.

“Can you tell Joel I need to talk to him?”

“Sorry ma’am, he had to leave earlier, something about Tommy.” Gus shrugs. 

“Uhm… okay.” You nod, deciding to make your way to the breakroom, sitting at one of the tables trying to collect your thoughts. Maybe it’s for the best that he left. That way the entire building wouldn’t see you blow up. Are you even still supposed to see each other tonight? That had been the plan when he left this morning. What the actual fuck, you think to yourself, give annoying ass Becky flowers to ask her out, and then fuck you? That two-timing son of a bitch!

“So fucking stupid,” you mutter to yourself.

—

You make it through the workday, as best as you can, trying not to think of Joel and how mad you are all while Becky continues to talk about him all day. What should she wear, wondering where he’d take her, what they would do, should she sleep with him on the first date. Hopefully, the Excedrin will kick in soon to help with the teeth grinding headache you’ve had all day. Walking to your car Becky’s shrill voice rings out wishing you a good evening.

“Yeah, you too,” you grumble, pulling your car door open and throwing your purse inside. You’re still so mad, fuming, seeing red as you drive towards your place. Once getting home, you quickly change into comfy clothes, and see you have a text from Joel.

JMiller: Can’t wait to see you beautiful ;) Leavin’ Tommy’s

You scowl looking at the text. How do you even respond to that? Petty, that’s how.

You: K.

You see the text bubbles pop up, disappear then pop up again before his face shows on your screen with an incoming call.

“Hello,” you snap.

“Hey,” Joel says hesitatingly, “Bad day at work?”

“Well, Becky got some lovely flowers delivered at work.”

“Oh?”

“Yep,” you say with a harsh pop at the end.

“And?” Joel asks, “Is that it?”

“Delivery guy and card said they were from you.”

“Fuck me,” Joel groans “Those were not for goddamn Becky!”

“Sure about that?”

“I got them for you.” Joel argues.

“Yeah, okay.” You huff into the receiver, rolling your eyes. “Look, I get it. It’s fine if you didn’t want this going anywhere but you could’ve been honest with me about it.”

“Fuck, darlin’,” Joel groans, “I do want this going somewhere! Like I said, the flowers were for you!”

“Sure,” you say, shaking your head, “Just be honest, Joel. This has just been fun, that’s it. You’re getting your dick wet, stringing me al—“

“God damn it! I am telling the truth!” Joel growls, cutting you off. “I even have proof!”

“What proof?!” You spit back, “The proof of the flowers you sent Becky? Yeah, I saw them, and the card too. Sweet touch signing it off with a heart and then your name.”

Suddenly there is a knock on your door. You cock your head to the side, hearing the knock sound through the phone as well. Of fucking course, Tommy’s is a five minute drive to your place, making your way to the door you swing it open to see Joel standing there. His nostrils flared, phone held up to his ear, dropping it and angrily stuffing it back into his pocket.

“Just give me five minutes, I swear, they were meant for you and I have fuckin’ proof,” Joel says, holding up a piece of paper.

“What the fuck, Joel?” You groan, smacking your phone onto the entry table.  “Why are you here?”

“I was on my way home from Tommy’s. Figure I’d come here first,” Joel says, holding the paper out to you, “Go on, look at it.”

You grab it, glancing it over. Farrah’s Flowers printed at the top, with your name listed as the order’s recipient, eyes bulging out of your head as you look at him.

“Told you.”

“Wait, then how the fuck did they get to Becky then?”

“Somebody fucked up, that’s all I know but that is my copy of the receipt for buyin’ them in the first place, and that is your name on it,” Joel smirks in triumph, crossing his arms across his broad chest.

Your shoulders relax as you open the door wider, motioning your head for him to come in. He gives a subtle nod, making his way into your home, you slump against the door once it’s closed.

“Joel,” you start, “What the fuck are we?”

He cages you against the door, pushing his lower half into you. You sigh, looping your arms around his neck, looking at those dark chocolate eyes.

“Well,” Joel says, kissing your cheek, “I want you,” placing a soft kiss against your lips, “More than just for sex,” he whispers, against your lips breathing in each other's air causing you to feel a dizzying arousal. Lips collide with him in a hungry kiss, tongues rolling against one another, gasping when his hands creep down to hook around your thighs lifting you, grabbing onto your ass before pulling you away from the door and carrying you to your bedroom.

Joel lays you down on your bed hovering over you, never breaking away from your lips, licking into your mouth with desperation like this might be his last chance. Arousal begins pool in your underwear. Hands gliding down his back, feeling the warmth radiating from him, lifting the bottom of his shirt until he finally lifts to fling it off.

“Don’t want anyone else,” Joel husks, lightly biting your neck, causing you to moan at the sensation of his teeth against your skin, “Just you.”

“Joel,” you whimper as his hand travels down the length of your shirt, pushing it up to expose your tits, ducking his head down. He sucks a nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the stiffened peak before switching to give the other equal attention, kissing a trail down the soft flesh of your stomach until he reaches the top of your leggings.

“Can I?” He asks, looking at you, fingers hooking into your waistband. You give a firm nod and he pulls them off along with your underwear. He sighs once they are off, using his shoulders to spread your legs further apart, “So fucking pretty,” he hums, nipping and kissing along your inner thighs, slowly making his way to your center.

You can feel his breath against your folds, trembling with anticipation for his tongue and lips to make contact, letting out a soft moan Joel begins lapping at your folds, sucking your bundle of nerves into his mouth. Tongue massaging circles against your clit.

“Fuck,” you moan, raking your fingers through his hair and lightly tugging.

Joel’s hum reverberated into your core. His mouth opened and he began to fuck you with his tongue while firmly holding your gaze. You’re back arched at the sensation, letting out a gasp. You roll your hips against his face, his nose pressing deliciously against your clit. He grunts, moving his thumbs to spread your lips, licking a stripe up to your clit and sucking it into his mouth. Your legs begin to shake at the sensation.

“Oh my god, Joel!” You whine, arching your back, feeling the band tightening within your core, begging for release. Joel sinks two of his thick fingers into you causing you to cry out, moving them to massage that sweet spot against your walls, “Yes! Oh my god, fuck!” You could feel the smug smirk on his face, knowing you’re about to come.

“Come on,” he coos, firmly licking your bundle of nerves “Let me have it baby.”

You cry his name out over and over as you feel the waves of pleasure crashing through you. He continues lapping at your folds, wanting to make sure he gets every last drop before you push his head away. He crawls up the length of your body, the denim of his jeans scratching against your skin.

“Good?” He asks, you nod giggling and he smirks, grabbing the nape of his neck you pull him closer to your face, looking into your eyes he whispers a hi. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face, surging forward to kiss him, tasting yourself on his tongue. He groans into your mouth, grinding his bulge against your center, the rough denim providing friction against your core. His hand moves to his belt, swiftly unhooking it and unbuttoning his jeans. Hands sliding down to help him push the denim off his hips, boxers following suit. You grip his hard length, stroking it from tip to base. Palm spreading the precome over his long thick length. Joel lets out a soft moan at the touch.

“Want you inside me,” you whimper, rubbing his cock against your slick heat. “Please.”

He bats your hand away, grabbing his cock to tease your folds more, rubbing his tip up and down your slit. You let out a moan when his tip catches against your entrance. Only for him to slide back up to your clit, rubbing agonizingly slow circles against you.

“Joel,” you begged, titling your pelvis, “Please, please fuck me.”

Joel smirks, sliding his cock back down to your entrance, feeding you his bulbous head. You writhe, feeling the stretch. He sinks into you slowly, filling you up until his tip kisses your cervix. Fingers gripping his back, each of you letting out a satisfied moan.

“Fuck, darlin’,” Joel murmurs into your neck, nipping and sucking on your pulse point, letting you adjust to his size, “Best pussy ever,” placing gentle kisses along your jaw.

“Joel, move,” you plead, hitching your legs up on his waist, “Need you to move.”

He pulls out slowly before snapping his length into you again, letting out a shaky breath at the harshness of his thrust. Your grip on his back tightens, sinking your nails into his skin. He lets out a hiss as he rocks his hips into you, trying to find that spot that makes you see stars. 

“Fuck,” he grunted, “Don’t want anyone else, darlin’.”

Breathy moans shared between kisses, sweat slicked skin gliding against each other. He pushes your thighs back further into a mating press, finding that sweet spot inside your walls.

“Oh my god,” you whine, back beginning to arch, “Right there!”

His cock massages that spot with every stroke, causing your muscles to tighten. You can feel the coil in your belly tightening, walls beginning to flutter around his shaft as he drills into that spot over and over.

“Jesus Christ,” Joel growls, feeling the heat of his skin slapping against yours, “I need you to come, baby. Ain’t gonna last much longer.”

You moan wantonly as you feel his dick twitch inside of you. Joel holding out to make sure you come first. The coil in your belly finally snaps, sending you over the edge, white hot electricity flowing through every limb. He thrusts into you harshly half a dozen more times before his hips stutter.

“Only you, darlin’, only want you,” he grunts, as he empties himself inside you, painting your walls with his sticky release, “only want you.”

Joel collapses, holding himself up by his elbows on either side of your head, nuzzling his nose against yours, placing soft kisses against your lips.

“Only want you,” he sighs.

—

You spent the next hour, in each other's arms, talking, snuggling and kissing.

“I can’t believe you would think I’d want Becky,” Joel booms with laughter, eyes crinkling around the edges. You smirk playfully, slapping his arm.

“Look,” you giggle, “I didn’t know if her flirting finally wore you down!”

“Hi Joel!” He says in an exaggerated high pitch, batting his eyelashes, “My, you sure have been working hard!” he adds with a girly giggle, lifting his pecs to create some sort of cleavage.

“Oh shut up!”

“Did you see the flowers though? Like actually look at ‘em?”

“Not really,” you sigh, playing with a loose thread on your blanket.

“Purple tulips for new beginnings and love,” Joel says, planting a kiss on your cheek, “Jasmine for devotion,” he continues, kissing your other cheek, “and pink roses for appreciation,” he smiles before kissing the tip of your nose.

“Really?”

“Yep, the florist helped me pick them out,” Joel says, grabbing the back of your neck pulling you into a kiss, “Told ya they were for you.”

[tempted-byhyuka]

| enhypen when… |

they want you back

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

inc: requested, hurt/comfort, angst, some fluffy endings, some nonidol!au, situationship (riki), food (heeseung), getting drunk (sunghoon), long distance (jungwon)

ೃ⁀➷ lee heeseung

ੈ♡˳ you didn’t expect heeseung to break up with you so suddenly, especially just a week before what would be your 3rd anniversary. he insisted it was for your sake, that he didn’t know if he could ever make you happy with the way his schedule was working out, that he wanted you to find someone better than him…

ੈ♡˳ he just so happened to dump you right before a tour, so trying to work things out was out of the question. this meant that he had left you to deal with your emotions with nothing but a bowl of ice cream and whatever tv show could get your mind off of the breakup. and to say it worked would be a lie.

ੈ♡˳ you spent months on end in a slump, and it wasn’t exactly like you could just open your phone to get away from reality when every other post you scrolled past had that handsome prick dancing in your feed. it felt like the universe was mocking you. you swore you hadn’t smiled since the day he dumped you…

ੈ♡˳ when that fateful phone call came, you were so glad you didn’t ever block the number. heeseung sounded regretful, asking to meet you in person for a conversation. as he finally saw you for the first time since the breakup, it was clear that he realized what he had done to you, dumping you the way he did.

ੈ♡˳ “listen, i’m sorry… breaking up was a bad idea and i should have talked to you before making such a big decision… i still love you, baby, and i want you in my life.. will you please come back?” he asks, holding out his hand. you reach out your hand to intertwine both of your fingers, your lips curling into a smile as you tearfully nod your head ‘yes’.

ೃ⁀➷ park jongseong

ੈ♡˳ it wasn’t like it was a decision you wanted to make, but jay clearly had other priorities that outweighed you. he tried to talk you out of it at first, but after hearing your feelings and thoughts, it looked like he realized just how much this must have been effecting you, and let you go.

ੈ♡˳ nearly 3 years after you two called it quits, you saw jay’s ever so recognizable face literally everywhere. but you didn’t feel upset, not at all.. it seemed that those years of training and practice finally paid off, and you were happy. maybe that break up was the right decision for him, he got what he wanted.

ੈ♡˳ you were standing in line at a cafe, stepping away from the counter to find a table when you crashed into another person. immediately you begin to apologize at the same time, but you recognize that voice anywhere. behind the cap and mask, you make eye contact with the same eyes you hadn’t seen in 3 years, “jay..?”

ੈ♡˳ of course, you end up at the same table, jay insisted he had time to spare and wanted to talk to you. his face has matured, but that’s the still the same jay who you used to see nearly every single day. after some catching up on both ends, jay clearly has something on his mind that you press him into expressing.

ੈ♡˳ “i have never stopped thinking about you, never… i did this all for you. i was so scared that i would never see you again, y/n… i don’t ever want to not see you again, you know?” he begins to ramble. “jay, are you sure we can…” you begin to ask, but he nods before you finish. “they lifted the ban… please, come back to me…?”

ೃ⁀➷ sim jaeyun

ੈ♡˳ it broke jake’s damn heart to break up with you, but he just couldn’t risk it… he didn’t blame you for your less than amicable reaction to the break up, but he still insisted that this decision wasn’t out of malice. words were said that you both regret, but in the end, jake always deeply regretted letting you walk out.

ੈ♡˳ his world literally became dull, his only light left in his life was of course his precious puppy, but not even performing was making him as happy as it did before. it was noticeable to literally everyone, to the point that his managers were telling him to either shape up or go into hiatus, and at this point, what did he have to lose?

ੈ♡˳ he sat on the edge of his bed, staring at your contact like it would make you materialize out of thin air if he stared hard enough. finally, he gathered his courage and clicked the call button, holding the phone to his ear. to his shock, you picked up after the second ring, “jake…?” and your voice is like honey in his ears.

ੈ♡˳ “oh, y/n… i… i don’t know where to start.” he admits with a nervous laugh and he drags his hand down his face. “let’s start with why you called.” you say in the voice that always walked him through any problem. “i… miss you,” he starts and clears his throat, “i shouldn’t have ever broken it off.”

ੈ♡˳ “you’re right…” you say, jake can hear that damn smile. “can you please come over…? i’d be a shitty boyfriend if i asked you to come back over the phone.” he says, slipping out the word before he even fully realized what he was saying. he hears your giggle, and it feels like the color comes back to his vision, “i’ll be over in ten.”

ೃ⁀➷ park sunghoon

ੈ♡˳ you didn’t know what switch had flipped in sunghoon to make him change so suddenly, but all you knew was that this wasn’t the boy you fell in love with. when you told him you were leaving him, it was like he didn’t care, he just scoffed and waved you off, “fine, leave then, you weren’t ever gonna stay.”

ੈ♡˳ safe to say it was a bit of a messy break up, you are sure he still has some of your clothing that you hadn’t dared to ask for back. whatever had come over sunghoon, it wasn’t worth pestering him over a couple of t-shirts. you weren’t scared, just frustrated, you wanted to know why he had such a drastic change.

ੈ♡˳ seeing him around campus felt like you were walking on eggshells, whichever new girl was trying to persue him constantly gave you stink eyes like they were trying to impress him (which only made you more confused because he certainly didn’t want them), and you started to wonder if there was something more…

ੈ♡˳ that is until sunghoon calls you at 1 in the morning of all hours, waking you from a deep slumber. you picked up the phone out of pure curiosity, hearing obvious faint party chatter, “sunghoon?” you ask, hearing a mumble on the other end and a shaky deep breathe, “y/n.. i’m sorry… i love you, babe…”

ੈ♡˳ “sunghoon, you’re drunk.” you stated the obvious, but he kept talking. “i know, fuck i know.. i’m being a damn idiot, baby please listen… i love you and i never stopped. please babe…” he muttered, slurring his speech. how can you tell if this is sincere…? you sigh and rub your temples, “call me when you’re sober, sunghoon.”

ೃ⁀➷ kim seonwoo

ੈ♡˳ with sunoo, the break up was out of left field, you swore you both were on a great path, you barely fought and not a thing was causing problems in your relationship, or so you thought. sunoo swore it was just so he could keep you out of the trouble that is life in the public eye… but you could see in his eyes it was more.

ੈ♡˳ it was so much worse not having closure, for all you knew, sunoo just decided to dump you and lie about it while holding back his own tears. all of it was enough to make you wonder if someone made him do this.. his company, his management? but even in that case… your love wasn’t grounds to ruin his career.

ੈ♡˳ you supported him from a distance, as painful as it was seeing your now ex constantly on a big screen, knowing that you could help him in some way was enough to bring you comfort. for all that your friends knew, you were just a very loud and proud sunoo bias. to be honest, you were, just not for any old reason.

ੈ♡˳ you almost dropped your phone when you turned a corner only to run into someone, who quickly grabbed your shoulders to steady you. “are you alright ma’am-?” he asks, and as soon as you looked up, you were face to face with sunoo’s equally shocked expression. “y/n…? holy shit.. i-i…” he looks on the verge of tears already.

ੈ♡˳ before you even say a word, you bury your face back into his chest, embracing him regardless of who saw or tried to snap a photo. much to your relief, you feel him hug you back, burying his face in your hair. “oh my god, i.. y/n, i can explain myself, will you let me?” he is frantic, but with a smile, you shush him and nod your head. “yes sunoo, let’s go somewhere quiet.”

ೃ⁀➷ yang jungwon

ੈ♡˳ jungwon is a smart guy, you’ve known that ever since you met him. that being said, you would never want to stand in the way between him and his education. that’s why when he was offered an abroad study opportunity, you swallowed your feelings and told him to go. it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity.

ੈ♡˳ the goodbye was full of tears that even his parents couldn’t hide. he swore that he wasn’t ever going to forget about you, he would never replace you, despite how much you wanted him to move on with his life. little did you know how much you meant to him, and how those years of studying didn’t feel so worth it.

ੈ♡˳ for years it was just him, he barely made friends and whenever he called it parents, it was obvious he was not happy. they urged him to message you, even they could see just how happy you made their son if it was to the point he couldn’t focus. jungwon finally caved one evening, sending you a message and breaking that one promise.

ੈ♡˳ ‘i know you told me not to message you, but god y/n i can’t do this anymore, i miss you too damn much. it hurts going every day without you, i don’t want to keep living this way. i know you didn’t want long distance, but i can’t do this without you. please will you consider? i love you.’ he sends, setting his phone down and groaning.

ੈ♡˳ it’s a long and painful silence before he finally heard his phone buzz, snatching it up and reading the response from you. ‘jungwon, i thought you would never ask… i love you too baby, ill wait 2 more years for you.’ and with that text you sent a photo of yourself. with that one message, he felt like everything would be okay…

ೃ⁀➷ nishimura riki

ੈ♡˳ the best way to describe your and riki’s relationship would be something akin to a ‘situationship’. you both did couple activities that normal couples would do, going out on fun dates and sharing a few kisses; but at the same time, he never outright called you his girlfriend, or him your boyfriend.

ੈ♡˳ it wasn’t any surprise to anyone you both knew that the relationship was in a constant state of turmoil, with you both constantly calling it quits only to hit eachother up like nothing happened the next week or so. safe to say it was getting toxic fast, and even if you didn’t know how riki himself felt, you felt terrible.

ੈ♡˳ so you broke it off, telling him that this arrangement was permanent and final, and that little punk had the audacity to laugh and say, “you’ll come back, you always do.” to your teary face as you stormed out of his dorm. but you were determined to stay gone, and for weeks, you were… the longest you had been.

ੈ♡˳ you didn’t entertain a single text or dm, you avoided him like the plague and deleted every photo of him on your phone, but you still felt like complete garbage… riki made you happy even when you felt so disposable to him. in the midst of one of your depressive bed rotting episodes, you heard a knock.

ੈ♡˳ needless to say you didn’t expect mr. nishimura himself standing there with a reasonable sized bouquet of your favorite followers, and for once in his life, he looked sad… “i realized i’ve been treating you like shit lately… i’m sorry, i want to be serious with you y/n.” he says, and he felt an immense joy as you leapt into his arms.

bang bang bang i’m so back baby, requested by anon, i hope you like it! 😚😚 not yet proofread whoops

[jup1ter33]

Boothill headcannons

sfw + nsfw! 🔞 brings up his past so be prepared to hear about that😥

sfw

he is so goofy with you, always bickering and starting something just to get on your nerves.

he means no harm though, just playful banter.

he's a wee bit touch starved, so he adores it when he can hold you and kiss you

no body better try and hurt you unless they'd like a bullet between the eyes from him.

he has no problem firing his gun at anyone who dares to hurt you, whats a few more credits on his bounty??

when you first learned about what happened on his home planet, you didn't know how to respond. you could see the pain in his eyes, but he would try and dismiss it.

that same night, he ended up bawling his eyes out on your shoulder. the words "I miss my baby... my daughter." spouted from his lips. he was sure that he couldn't cry anymore, but with you, he felt such security, a safe haven for himself.

he'd have nightmares often. he'd abandon his charging station to come lay with you clutching you to his chest in fear that he'd loose you too.

but moments with boothill are rarely sad. In fact, he's typically enthusiastic and playful with you.

he's a charmer, calling you cute names and what-not.

he'd remove his hat and place it on your head while he kisses you.

being a galaxy ranger, he would often have to leave for weeks at a time. he'd give you a piece of his clothes, or a pin off his jacket, or some flowers before he left. he'd give you a deep hug, resting his head ontop of yours and taking in your scent before he has to leave.

on his trips he'd send you photos of the scenery, or some cool monuments, or anything he'd think would interest you.

he'd text you good morning and good night every day, saying how he misses you

on those days where he gets back in the middle of the night, he'd find you sleeping in the bed on his side, the blankets pulled up to your chin.

he's quietly snuggle his way in, cradling you in his arms.

buttttt, when he gets back in the morning, you better be ready to go out and have some fun.

he'll give you a gift he picked out for you, take you out drinking or to some random restaurant. sure, he'd get stares, but he didn't care.

he's so good with kids, he plays with them all the time and scolds them when they've been naughty.

he used to play guitar with his little girl, but now that his hands are metal, he has trouble getting his fingers to press on the fret board correctly:(

nsfw

oh boy, be prepared to hear this man

he's so whiny, he whimpers and moans so loud.

one of his absolute favorite things is to eat you out. the only human part of him left is his face, so being burried in between your thigh, your warm cunt pressed against his mouth, he can feel so much of it. it sends his fans whirling from the feeling of skin-to-skin.

and the pet names, he never runs out of them. darlin', sweetheart, buttercup, the list goes on and on.

because of his synestheisa beacon, it's hard for him to give you really any degrading words.

"T-take it like the cutie you are..."

he ends up getting frustrated and decides that maybe until he can get that solved, he won't use those words on you.

wondering how his dick works? yeah me too.

he'd probably have a silicone skin layer underneath his metal "armor" so I'd assume that his girth would be made of that. (there's no way it's metal that would be torture 😭)

boothills hair is sensitive, like before, his head is the only human part of him left. giving him a good tug makes him groan and jolt.

manhandles you. not exactly intentionally, but because of his cyborg body, it's hard for him to remember that he's alot tougher than you are, and he doesn't mean it in a way that your weak, (because your not) but because he simply gets so worked up he accidently will toss you around a bit.

he's had his fair share of experience, mostly before be was a cyborg, so he'll test things out on you.

he'll watch and see if your reaction to his metallic fingers prodding at your hole, would his fingers be too hard for your liking? would they be too big? he'd be observant in the way he works thru things with you.

until he met you, he didn't know that this charging port was a little sensitive.

he was being rough with you, as a result, your arms wrapped around his body in pleasure, clawing at his back. on accident, your fingers slipped into the charging port on his lower back, and he came on the spot.

he was soooooooo embarrassed.

"i-i...darlin' I didn't know that could even happen to me..." You assured him that it was fine, and that it was rather hot.

he'll find himself on his hands and knees, his port being teased from your Skillful hands and he melts. he whimpers and moans so loud, already on his 3 orgasm.

kinda hard to overstim him, he doesn't feel alot through his metallic skin, but if you make him cum a few times, he gets so whiny and needy.

he's mostly a top, he prefers to have you wrapped around his finger. literally.

but in the case that he decided to be a bottom, he cries your name, telling you how good it feels, how much he loves you, all the things he wants to do to you. he really can't shut up.

after you two finish, he lays next to you for a moment, allowing his fans to cool his overheating body down, and for you to regain your breath.

"so...how'd I do?" He'd ask with a cheek grin on his face. he knows he did good, but he wants to hear it straight from you.

he'll run you a shower or bath, whichever you prefer. but since he doesn't exactly need to shower (and it makes him rust) he'll stay on the outside. helping you with whatever you'd need.

and while your busy washing up, he'll clean off himself with his cleaning kit, oil his fingers and joints, make sure he didn't screw up his alignment.

once you're done, he won't allow you to lift a finger. he'll change the sheets, get you food or a drink, dress you, help you with your skincare, everything. since his body is robotic, he can just charge and won't get sore. he wants to make sure that he didn't mess you up too badly.

once everything is done, he'll lay you in bed ever-so gently.

he'll cuddle up next to you, burrowing his face into your chest, listening for your heartbeat. yes, it brings him pain that he no longer has a beating heart, but as long as he can lay with you and hear yours, to know you're safe, all is well.

[httpdwaekki]

the view | b.c.

summary: you suddenly become overwhelmed but channie is there to pull you back.

wc: 773 | ss: 1

a/n: no idea what this is honestly, i started sobbing out of no where and couldn't stop so i made this. will probably rewrite this later but here it is for now. anyway, i hope you enjoy, remember to eat, drink water and take your meds, ily <3

my library

(photos aren't mine. credit to owners)

you were sat on the middle of your bed, a soft blanket and wolfchan curled into your chest, eyes closed as tears streamed down your face. the view playing lowly in the background as you tried to calm yourself down. you didn’t know what happened, one second you were fine, the next you had wet streaks down your face unable to breathe.

you put on the view in an attempt to calm yourself but it wasn’t helping. neither were your plushie or blanket. you felt yourself slipping deeper and deeper into a spiral before chan had texted you.

you felt like you were there for hours before you felt a dip in front of you. you whip your head up to find a very worried channie. this causes you more distress, “i’m sorry. i’m- i’m so sor- sorry channie.” you say between sobs.

“hey hey, none of that okay?” he shushes you as he sits himself in front of you. “i’m gonna pull into my lap, okay?” he asks, waiting for your response. you nod, sniffling as you hold your arms out to him. he grabs your arms, pulling you gently towards him, placing his legs in front of him as you places yours around his waist.

“i’m here bug,” he wraps his arms around you. “you’re okay, let it out.” he kissed the side of your head, wrapping his arms tightly around you. you shove your face into his neck, leaning your body against his as you sob.

one arm pressed to his chest still holding the plushie to your chest, the other resting on his waist. you allow chan to hold you up. his hands move across your back in soothing motions, his mouth placed next your ear. “doing so good for me my baby, do you want me to tell you about my day or just sit here with you?” he asks softly.

you try to even your breathing to reply but to no avail. chan notices this, “tap once for the first, twice for the second.” you tap his waist once, his arms tightening slightly, pulling you closer. he starts his story talking about how he woke up to yelling, courtesy of hyunjin scaring changbin and changbin of course yelling at hyunjin for giving him a fright.

he then talks about how he made your famous eggs and bacon for breakfast but it didn’t taste as good as yours because in his words, “it didn’t have your love in it.” you feel your breathing even out as he continues his story, definitely embellishing a bit to pull a few giggles out of you.

once you’ve calmed down and chan has finished recounting his day, you sit there, leaning against him, just enjoying his presence. the familiar song still plays softly from your forgotten phone at the foot of your bed.

“how are you feeling?” he asks not daring to pull away until fully sure you were okay. “better, thank you.” you mumble into his skin before placing a soft kiss to it. “you never have to thank me for this or apologize, okay?” you nod taking your free hand and squeezing his waist.

“can i ask you a question?” he asks, hand still rubbing your back. you nod, signaling him to continue. “why the view?” you smile slightly. “i don’t know honestly, something about the song is super comforting to me.” he hums in understanding.

you yawn, feeling mentally and physically exhausted from the last hour or so of crying. “you sleepy bug?”you nod against him. “okay let’s get you comfy then hm?” he pats your thigh, waiting for you to move. 

you move back slightly, just giving him enough room to slip out from under you. once he’s stands, he helps you under your blanket, making sure you have your wolfchan before rounding the bed. he makes his way to the other side of the bed, sliding in, pulling you to him once more.

you turn, burrowing yourself into his chest as he wraps his arms around you. after a beat of silence, he speaks, “please never think you’re a burden or less important than anything else in my life.” he pauses to place a kiss to your hair. “you mean the world to me so if you need me i’m there okay?”

you nod slightly, “okay.” you reply, overwhelming love blooming in your chest. “i love you channie, more than you know.” you say, placing a kiss over his heart. “i love you more bug.” he responds as your breathing evens out, slumping into his chest, where you both stayed for the rest of the night.

[redheadspark]

Here (Part One)

Summary - Azriel's worst nightmare has come true: his mate is nearly killed.

Warnings - Mostly Angst in this one

A/N - This is part of the Ocean Eyes Series.

I wanted to write a two-part, or possibly a three-part of this idea I had in my head. I promise it won't be all angst, more like a hurt/comfort if you will! Please let me know in the comments if you wish to be tagged in the second and possibly third part of this piece :).

I hope you enjoy it.

Rage. All Azriel could think was rage. 

He pushed his way into the front doors of the River House, his mind reeling and his thoughts were focused on one being. Everything on his body was stiff, from the top of his neck down his backside to his feet that were pushing him to the main sitting room to the right.  Voices were heard, worried and angered voices that were mixed and the tension felt along the Shadowsinger. He was moving so fast that his own shadows were trying to catch up to him, warning him and coaxing him to be calm. But he was not calm. 

You were nearly killed.  His mate and wife were almost killed. He was seeing red.

He abruptly threw open the doors, seeing all who were present stop in their conversation and look at him as his wide eyes were filled with anger. Rhysand, Feyre, Nesta, and Cassian were all there in a semi-circle, horror was on their faces alongwith anger and festering wrath and outrage. But Azriel was not thinking about them, he was thinking about you and what happened.

What he felt in the bond.

"Where is she?" He asked in a low tone, not caring that the tone was a bite and his eyes were glaring at the Inner Circle. Each of them, directly in the eye, knowing fully well they wouldn't lie to them since it was Rhsyand who contacted him.Feyre, looking rather remorseful and on the verge of tears seeing Azriel like this, walks over to him with hesitance. His eyes locked with hers.

"Azriel.." She started, but Azriel's eyes snapped to her in such a way that it made Freyre freeze.

"Feyre," he said her name with such a bite that it seemed not himself, but he was not himself. Feyre's eyes widened in shock, the sound of his voice saying her name seemed lethal in a sense, he'd never spoken to her like that before. If it was any other circumstances, Azriel would have been chewed out by Rhsyand for the way he spoke to his High Lady. But Rhysand stayed quiet, inwardly knowing not to step on the Spymaster's toes at the moment. 

Feyre glided over to Azriel and took his fist in her hands, coaxing him to at least open his hand up to allow her to lace her fingers in his. Her bright eyes searched his, determination on her face, "Come with me, I'll take you to her."

Azriel followed willingly, knowing Feyre would guide him now as she led him out of the sitting room and up the stairs. All Azriel could think about was you, the pain he felt deep in the bond, and how that alone almost made him fall to his knees. He heard your scream, the piercing scream that sounded like your own soul was being sucked away from you. Azriel knew you could handle pain, he knew you weren't a pushover. You were tough as nails, one of the toughest Illryians Azriel has ever known. Not just tough in strength, but tough in spirit and in your soul. 

To feel that pain and hear it, Azriel had never been this scared in his long life.

Feyre ushered Azriel to one of the guest rooms, pushing the door open. Azriel froze at the sight in front of him, his heart plummeting in his chest and his blood going cold. There you were, passed out cold on your side in the middle of the massive bed that was right in the middle of the room.  You were stripped down to your undergarments, a thin sheen of sweat along your skin as you were clutching a massive body pillow in your arms and legs and your wings were sprawled out behind you. A massive red slash into your left wing, right along the bone from top to bottom, was seen and so visible to Azriel that he was fuming. Madja was perched on the bed, ointment was pressed into your wing and herbs were in vials next to her on the nightstand. 

Azriel saw your unconscious body, the pale skin tone that was clear evidence of blood loss, and even the shine in your hair was gone, it was like he was seeing a ghost. You seemed more like a shell, a hollowed shell of the being that Azriel knew and loved. After Feyre released Azriel's hand, Azriel walked over to kneel next to you to be nose-to-nose with you. He searched your face, the coolness in your cheeks, and the dark circles under your eyes.  Even the way you breathed while sleeping sounded uneasy, laboring really as Azriel tried to hold back his own tears.

His own worst nightmare came true right in front of his eyes: his mate being harmed and Azriel having no way of stopping or preventing it. He feared this for as long as you two were together, that something could happen to you because of who he was and what role he played for Night Court. But of course, you told him that nothing would happen to you, that he was too worried or paranoid. 

It was now a sick reality.

Azriel felt his heart breaking as he tentatively reached out and touched your bare arm that was on top of the body pillow, feeling how cold you were and the sweat still evident. You whimpered, still asleep and sounding like you were in insane pain as Azriel felt tears in his eyes. Tears for seeing his mate in such pain, tears for the rage he was trying to bury deep down.

Tears for the regret of not killing the very fae he had a hunch did this to his mate.

"She'll survive," Azriel's head snapped up at Madja, who was ringing out a blood-stained washcloth into a basin. Her face was solemn, but still calm as she took some more ointment along her fingers and reached over to place a generous coat of it along the open wound on your wings. You whimpered in pain, your face contorted as Azriel immediately rubbed your arms and nosed your hair lovingly. 

I'm here, baby. I'm right here, I got you with me. Stay with me, baby. Please, stay with me. I need you, I need you here with me.

Azriel was saying so many things through the bond, hoping and praying to The Cauldron that you could hear his voice as he kept talking to you inwardly. He wanted you to open your eyes and show you the brilliant blue orbs that he loved, he wanted to hear your laughter and voice to know that you were still breathing. 

You were there, but you seemed so far away.

"What happened?" Azriel finally asked, his voice raw from the tears as his fingers were still massaging your arms soothingly. His eyes went to Madja, who was giving him a serious look.  The stare-down was enough to have Feyre feel as though she was interrupting something, but Madja then jerked her head to the left. Azriel's eyes followed in that direction, seeing what she was he was directing him to stare at. His eyes went wide.

A singular Ash Arrow.

"The arrow sliced along her bone," Madja explained, getting up from the bed and walking over to the bowl where the arrow was sticking out. Water was inside stained red in blood and something darker, almost black. Azriel watched in silent anger as Madja took a spare cloth in her fingers to lift the arrow without her fingers touching the actual arrow itself. It was long, stained in your blood, and looked precise in design.

"It was an inch away from being fatal," Madja explained as she showed the arrow to Azriel, "Your mate was lucky to have been fast enough to not have it be fatal to her. But the poison in the arrow is doubled compared to other ash arrows I've dealt with in the past."

Azriel felt his shadows flicker against his sides in anger from what he heard as he spoke low, "Doubled?"

"Whoever shot this arrow, had all the intentions in killing your mate, and making it painful," Madja explained, Azriel's eyes darting to her as well as Feyre's. Though she was still at the doorway into the guest room, she could see all that Azriel was reacting to. She felt it in the air and sensed it, she too also hated seeing you nearly on death's door and so close to leaving this world.  Azriel was happy with you, immensely happy, and to think of you leaving him and your son in this world without you there would break her heart.

"I spoke to your High Lord and High Lady about her condition and what needs to be done for her to recover back to full health," Madja explained thoroughly as she dropped the arrow back into the bowl with a splash, making her way back to her work station, "Your mate needs to stay here to fully heal. Her wings are tender and delicate now, any movement will make the poison spread,"

"It's still in her?" Azriel asked hoarsely, almost in pain himself. Feyre moved then, no longer being able to stay in her spot away from her friend as he was grieving for his wife. Standing behind him, she placed a hand on his shoulder, his shadows licking her fingers and palm as a silent way to thank her. Somehow, Feyre felt it too, watching Madja as she was packing some of her things.

"The poison is minimal and tolerable for now, I took most of it out. It's up to your mate and her willpower for the poison to evaporate within the next day or two, in fact, it's critical. Which is why she needs to stay here and let the medicine and her Illryian strength do the work to get herself back on her feet," Madja informed Azriel and Feyre, clutching her bag as she stood by the bed. 

"She'll be safe here, Az," Feyre softly said to Azriel behind him, Azriel heard the softness in her tone as she spoke again, "She'll stay here at River House for as long as she needs to."

"I'll come by tonight and check on her, and from then on I'll come daily. For now, she needs rest, peace, and quiet," Madja explained, taking in a long breath as she gave Azriel a soft bow, "I'm sorry for this, Shadowsinger.  This is no easy thing to conquer. But I stand by what I said when she brought your son into the world: your mate is strong. One of the strongest female Illryians I have ever met in my life. You must have faith that she'll make it out alive, it is vital not just for her, but for you."

Azriel drank in all she said as she walked out of the room, closing the door behind her to leave Azriel and Feyre in the room. There was silence for a moment or two, the only sound that was heard was Azriel's labored breathing and the slightly opened window near the bed. He looked at you again, feeling his world falling apart all over as he attempted to hide his tears. But Feyre caught on and wrapped an arm around his shoulders to hug him from behind. The tears fell, and Azriel squinted in pain as he rested his head on the mattress, though still asleep and not realizing that your mate was breaking.

"She's right here, Az. She's right here alive with us okay?" Feyre said to him as she hugged him tight.

"I failed her," He moaned into the mattress, Feyre shaking her head as he sobbed, "I swore to protect her and keep her safe when we got together. It's my fault—"

"Don't do that! Don't say that Azriel.  This was not your fault, do you hear me?" Feyre reassured Azriel. Azriel clung onto Feyre, still crying into the sheets and feeling as though you were slipping away without him being able to cling to you. But the fact that Feyre was there, holding him close and telling him that you were alive, it was a small sliver of hope for him to hold onto. So many things were flooding in his mind: Who shot the arrow? Who was in charge of this attack? Why would you be the target? 

Who did Azriel need to hunt down and kill?

"She's going to stay here, perfectly safe, and I will make sure she is comfortable, Azriel. You have my word," Feyre promised Azriel as he lifted his head from the mattress, shoving his tears away aggressively with his fingers.

"Are you saying that as my High Lady?" Azriel asked, not meaning to sound bitter about it but his voice sounded it. Feyre hummed, moving to kneel next to Azriel so he could see the love in her eyes and sincerity. He adored that about Feyre, how kind she was even after all she went through as a human, and how she saved Prythian from Kind Hybern. She was still kind, still gentle in her heart though fierce when she needed to be. But the one thing that made her strong was her fierce friendships, how she held her friends close and would never let them go.

Like now.

"I'm saying that as your friend and someone who loves you," She replied softly, trying not to cry herself as she gave Azriel a soft smile, "Nothing is going to happen to her here, and you are more than welcome to be here with her while she gets better. Your family is our family too Az,"

Azriel panicked, thinking about the one member of the family who would be affected. 

"But what about Alec? Oh, Alec," Azriel panicked again, his son was now on his mind. What was his son going to think when he heard about his mother? What was Azriel going to say? His son was far too young for this chaotic world that was filled with hate and pain. Being only 4 years old, Alec was still so innocent and so kind, just like his mother.

"He's at school with Nyx right now, and he can stay here with you too," Feyre said to him calmly, seeing his panic, "I'll make up the guest room across the way for you two to sleep in while—"

"I'm staying in here with her," Azriel said to Feyre as he looked back at you, seeing you shift slightly and cling onto the pillow some more, the pain was less evident on your face as Azriel spoke again, "Alec can use the spare room, he can sleep with Nyx if he wants. But I'm not leaving her side, Feyre. Never again,"

Feyre must have sensed it would be a losing argument on her end when it came to trying to persuade Azriel into anything else.  But she would have done the same if it was Rhsyand there on the bed, even knowing fully well Rhsyand would do the same if Feyre was the one wounded and near death.

With a singular kiss to the top of his head, Feyre squeezed his arm a pinch, "I'm going to make you some food so you can eat in here. We're all downstairs if you need anything, but just stay here and be with her. Nesta will pick up Alec from school and bring him here, don't worry about him right now, we'll take care of him. You focus on your mate,"

Azriel gave her a soft nod, feeling the love she had and the warmth that Feyre could only produce sink into him. Although he felt like he was alone on an island, he wasn't truly alone. Not with the Inner Circle behind his family to care for them and to rally around him in this time.

"Thank you, Feyre," He thanked her, and as she walked out of the room to give him time with you, Azriel felt defeated. He took a chair to bring over to be at your side, then opened a window or two to bring in the fresh air, and then sat in the chair to watch you sleep. Not just sleep, but heal.

Even after hearing from both Madja and Feyre that you were strong enough to make it, Azriel couldn't just rely on hope. He felt hopeless in not being able to do anything, be anything, to bring you back. To wake you up and shine your blue eyes on him, to laugh again and fill the air with your bell of a laugh, and for you to smile and outshine any gem imaginable. 

Rhysand needed his cousin, Alec needed his mother, but Azriel most of all needed his mate. 

As you slept, Azriel was thinking over all the pieces of this complicated puzzle that needed to be placed together. He wanted to search every inch of every Court to find the very being that nearly killed you and almost took you away from him. He wished to find whoever was responsible and inflict so much pain in their life that they would beg for mercy. Any torture he inflicted in the past, he would surpass it. 

But for now, for now he simply wished for you to wake up again.

To Be Continued….

A/N -Once again, let me know in the comments if you wish to be tagged for Part Two and Possibly Part Three!

Thanks for reading!

Tagging - @valeridarkness @impossibelle @acourtofbatboydreams @prettylittlewrites @fxckmiup