#as they said we could be as creative as we wanted with the prompts so that's why I included the other option!

[allineedisabook-18]

my friend is having a valentine's day party this week and the theme is goth/business man which should I pick

[gnc-tits]

i have to write an essay today and like. i overall have enjoyed the professors classes but mostly just bcoz theyve been asynch. the professor…..idk maybe itd be different if it were taught in person or multi modal with a set class Time but overall she is just not tht great at teaching 😭which is FINE like im fine with teaching myself especially for a lit class but also??? this essay is a “literary analysis” and not only is the rubric ultra fuckin specific with what we have to write about but its also broken down by paragraph structure like in the rubric she Tells you what to write about paragraph by paragraph. like what are we even doing here

[steddieas-shegoes]

we share that really

for @corrodedcoffinfest prompt ‘band politics’

rated t | 905 words | no cw | tags: famous corroded coffin, reunion tour, future fic, steddie dads, everyone has a family and is happy

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

Their label said it was too soon to do a reunion tour. They were only in their early 40s and had only been officially “broken up” for ten years.

But they were all in the right place: married, children who were old enough to come on tour but still young enough to be excited about it, and writing music that meant more to them than anything they’d done before.

Rumors had swirled for years after they announced their break up. None of them saw it as a breakup, more an early retirement that let them focus on building their lives. Fans and media alike hadn’t stopped coming up with other reasons for it: Gareth had been in love with Eddie for years and finally said something which caused friction, Jeff’s wife had threatened to divorce him if he didn’t take time off, Frankie had a drinking problem that was spreading like a viral disease.

None of it was even close to true.

The one and only reason for all of them was that they wanted to focus on their families for a while.

They stayed in touch, almost more than when they were on tour together. Jeff and Gareth lived in the same neighborhood, and Frankie bought an RV so he could come visit as often as he wanted. Eddie had traveled for a very extended honeymoon with Steve for nearly a year before finally settling an hour away, halfway between his favorite people and Steve’s favorite person.

They still played together at least once a month, a full set and any new stuff someone brought with them.

So when they all agreed it was time to come back and record a new album and do a tour, it wasn’t really a reunion so much as an excuse to be even closer for a while.

The label was thrilled, willing to give everyone their own tour bus so their families could come with them for the US part of the tour.

One thing none of them were prepared for was the media following the announcement.

“Is it true that you only just reconciled after years of legal battles about rights to songs?” A journalist from Rolling Stone asked.

Gareth snorted. “Not even a little, dude. We’ve been best friends this entire time.”

“So there was never any issue with Eddie being the most famous?”

Everyone looked over at Eddie, who was making faces at his youngest daughter at the side of the stage. Jeff leaned into his mic and gestured over to him.

“None of us have ever had a problem with him being the face of the band. We’re here to make music and perform, not fight over who gets to be in the center of pictures,” he said. “Plus, none of us would wanna deal with what he deals with on a daily basis. He’s not that interesting, I promise.”

Everyone laughed as Eddie turned back to the crowd with a smile. “I’m super boring. Just ask my kids.”

"So you don't mind that he gets creative control?" Another reporter asked.

They all shared looks with each other before Eddie leaned forward into his microphone to answer.

"I don't have creative control. We all share it. We all share everything. That's the point of a band like ours. Sometimes I know what sounds best for a guitar solo, sometimes Jeff does. Sometimes Gareth writes a chorus that people will sing along to, sometimes Frankie does. We've never had any of that lead person bullshit no matter what the media wants to show," Eddie drummed once on the table. "Are there any questions about the upcoming album and tour or is everyone here gonna keep asking about shit that isn't true?"

"Language!" Steve yelled from the side of the room.

Everyone laughed and Eddie waved him off.

They got more questions about the album and the tour and it finally seemed like everyone was done asking about band politics until the very end.

"So will Eddie still be the lead guy for the reunion?" Someone from the back asked.

Eddie banged his head against the table.

"Alright, thanks everyone! We'll see you on tour!" Gareth yelled as he pulled Eddie's arm so they could all exit the stage.

"They want us to hate each other so bad," Frankie shook his head.

"Look at this face," Gareth said as he grabbed Eddie's jaw in one hand, squeezing his cheeks until his lips pouted out. "Who could hate this face?"

"Shit!" A small voice exclaimed from behind them.

Eddie turned to see his youngest daughter smiling up at him and Steve standing next to her with his hands on his hips.

"You're right, sweetie. Daddy's in deep shit," Eddie leaned in to kiss Steve's cheek. "And he is so sorry for breaking the no bad words rule today. He really is."

"Our fearless leader appears to be absolutely fucked," Jeff said as he started to walk towards his wife and kids.

Gareth trailed behind him in search of his own family.

Frankie punched Eddie's shoulder. "Good luck, big guy."

"Everyone hates me, call the media and tell them they were right," Eddie pouts.

Steve rolls his eyes and picks up their daughter, walking away.

Eddie turns to his twins. "Well, you guys don't care if I say shit."

"You said worse while getting ready this morning."

"And I'll say worse again! Let's get out of here."

[tusks-and-claws]

I’m Not What You Need (But I Am)

Miguel O’Hara x female reader

Summary:  “When you sit there/acting like you know me/acting like you only brought me here to get below me”

You have a concern to bring to Miguel, but when he hears what you really think of him, he doesn’t let you off so easily

Tags/warnings: smut (18+), oneshot, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, kind of missionary idk what to call it, dominant Miguel, brat taming, orgasm denial, dirty talk, choking, sort of strangers to lovers, maybe a little bit of a hatefuck if you squint, reader is a Spider person, def a bit out of character

Wordcount: 3.5k

Find on Ao3 here :3

"Why are you coming to me with such trivial annoyances?" Miguel O'Hara asked you from the platform of his lab, at least ten feet above you. He was tapping on various screens, not giving you eye contact. It felt purposeful, pointed. 

"I'm sorry, I thought you wanted to know when fights broke out. Keeping the peace and all that." You felt yourself growing warm, anxiety fluttering in your stomach. 

"What I want," he said, his tone growing short. "Is for people to sort out their own bullshit, so I can worry about what's important. Which, if you haven't noticed, is much bigger than you and I and some stupid fight in the lobby."

As soon as he said it, you knew he was right. But he was still being an asshole. You were only trying to help.

You put your hands up in defense. "I just thought you'd wanna know." Then whispered under your breath "douchebag," as you turned to walk away.

But your progress was halted by something tugging at your wrist. You looked down to see what it was, and closed your eyes, quietly cursing yourself. Neon red webbing. 

"You wanna run that by me again?" Miguel asked. 

You swallowed a lump in your throat. "Nothing, it was nothing. I'll just leave." 

You tried to pull free, but he was reeling you in, like a helpless fish on a hook. "Oh, no," he said, sounding somewhat amused. "No, I heard you. 'Douchebag,' eh? Not very creative. But…" he paused when you were closer, close enough that he could look directly down at you. "I want to hear you say it again. Face to face, this time."

You frowned. "How can we be 'face to face' when you're so high above me?"

He wagged a finger at you. "You've got a point there." In a sudden flash of tingling, your Spider sense triggered. But Miguel was too fast, he'd been doing this for far longer than you had. In an instant, you were wrapped in neon red and being hoisted upward onto the platform. He planted you right in front of him, putting his hands on his hips and leaning down so his eyes were level with yours. "Happy?"

You huffed. Why was he like this? A self-satisfied grin played at the edges of his plush lips as he scrutinized you with bloodshot eyes. Finally registering how close he was, and how huge he was, you started turning red. He could throw you around like you weighed nothing, couldn't he? He had just lifted you up here with hardly any effort. You'd never thought about another Spider like this. Sure, you were all strong, but there was something in Miguel's upper body that you couldn't free from your thoughts, something in those massive shoulders, something-

"Well?" He asked, breaking your trance. "I don't have all day."

You met his eyes. They looked so tired. You didn't want to insult him anymore. You wanted to leave and pretend like the thoughts you had about him never existed. 

But you knew what he needed to hear. 

"Douchebag," you repeated. 

He smiled, and it was humorless. "It's nice to know that this is what people think of me. That I did this for all of us, and everyone in our worlds. And the word that comes to mind when people talk to me is…?" He raised an eyebrow prompting you. 

"...Douchebag."

"That's right!" He pointed a finger at you. "I don't ask for much. I ask for people to listen and respect the operation. And that means respecting my time, too, eh? No more coming right to me with petty fights that people can solve on their own." 

You just stared back up at him, hardly registering his words. Respect time, no more fights, whatever. His hair looked so soft. 

"Got it?" He asked, starting to sound frustrated again. 

You nodded.

"I need to hear you say it."

"G-got it." 

"Good." He patted your shoulder. What an odd gesture. It was very nearly caring. "Let's get you out of here." He flexed his hand, talons coming free. He quickly swiped at the webbing he had wrapped you in, the strands snapping and falling to the floor in shreds.

Your heart was hammering in your chest. His brow furrowed. "Listen, I know I'm scary, but I'm just doing my job."

You shook your head. "I'm- I'm not scared."

"Are you not? Dios mio, I can hear your blood pumping." 

His heightened senses were going to be your death sentence. The longer he stood staring at you, the worse your thoughts became. But you couldn't bring yourself to move away from his attention. You crossed your arms, trying to make yourself small so he would stop looking at you. 

He raised an eyebrow. "What, do you wanna be friends or something?"

No, you thought, I want us to be something different. 

Despite your best efforts, you blurted out, "no, in all honesty, I've never really liked you that much." Why did you say that? What was wrong with you? 

He cocked his head, his eyes widening, processing what you just said. He started to nod. "Oh, wow. Great. Thank you so much. What a productive conversation. And you're still here because…?"

"Because you getting the last word in is infuriating to me." You couldn't stop yourself. You knew this was bad, but you couldn't stop.

"How do you think I feel? You came here for the sole purpose of bothering me and now you won't leave me the shock alone." He pointed at you again, forefinger lightly jabbing your collarbone. "You. Can. Leave. This is my lab, you little brat." He spoke the words through gritted teeth, and you could just barely see his elongated canines, gleaming and sharp in the light of the lab's computer screens. 

Oh no.

You stood there, just blinking at him. You've never seen someone so annoyed looking so attractive at the same time. It wasn't fucking fair.

He suddenly started, the anger from his face vanishing, confusion taking its place. "Oh yeah?" He asked, his voice taking on a mocking tone. "That's why your heart is pounding?"

Fuck.

"What, uh… what do you-"

"Don't play dumb with me.” He placed a gloved finger under your chin, tilting your head up towards him. “I can smell that you're turned on. Is that why you came here to bother me? So you could gawk at me? And maybe I'd fuck you if you were lucky."

You backed up, nearly slipping off the edge of the raised platform. Miguel reached out and caught your hand, pulling you in close to him. Unconsciously, you splayed your hands on his chest to steady yourself. His body was so warm and inviting, and you were drawn into it like a little planet circling a blazing sun. 

What was happening, what were you doing?

"Is that what you thought?" He asked, seeming to echo the questions you asked yourself, his voice growing more quiet as he looked down at you.

You quickly raised your hands away from him, closing them into loose fists and crossing your arms again. "No," you said, truthfully. 

"But you're thinking it now." He nodded. "Aren't you?"

After a pause, you nodded too.

"I really need to hear you say it." He probed.

"I'm…. I'm thinking about it now."

"Oh, are you? Thinking about what?"

You swore under your breath, doing a poor job of hiding a scowl. You should've known he wasn't going to make it easy for you. 

"Thinking about you fucking me." You grimaced after admitting it, waiting for him to mock you and disown you. 

He smiled. "That's funny. I thought I was a douchebag." 

"Fuck you, man!" You threw your arms up into the air, turning around and preparing to hop down from the platform. 

“No no no, come on, now,” he said, grasping your wrist with a large, warm hand. His grip was surprisingly gentle. “Why don’t you give me a chance to change your mind?”

You looked him in the eyes, and there was a small spark there. You sighed, unable to deny the reaction your body had to him. You wanted him. And he was offering himself to you. What reality was this where that was even possible? Not ten minutes ago, you were hardly closer than strangers. “Okay,” you said, offering him a small grin. “Don’t fuck it up.”

“Oh, I won’t.” In another swift movement, he swept you up into his arms and laid you down on your back on the lab floor. He was above you, arms on either side of your head, boxing you in. You could hardly see anything past those vast shoulders. You swallowed. He raised one hand to your head, petting your hair. “Look at that. You really are so pretty. Couldn’t help thinking it even when you were pissing me off earlier.”

You furrowed your brow. “I thought you wanted to change my mind, asshole, is this-”

He cut you off as his hand lowered, skating down your side and brushing against your breast before traveling even further. You exhaled shakily, trying to prepare yourself for this. Miguel O'Hara was touching you. Miguel O'Hara was going to fuck you. 

When he reached the curvature of your hips, he fondly squeezed, humming to himself. "Soft… so soft. You wouldn't want an asshole like me to eat you out, would you?"

Your brain short-circuited at how blatant he was. "No, I- I would, I really fucking would, Miguel."

"Oh, are we on a first name basis, now?" He hooked a clawed finger into the fabric of your suit, ripping a huge gash into it so he could access you. That… that was your good suit. You bit down on your bottom lip, trying to keep yourself from quipping back at him as he scooted downward, wrapping his arms around your thighs and lining himself up with your pussy. You threw your head back in anticipation, screwing your eyes shut. How was this real? How was-

You gasped as his tongue made gentle contact with your sex, slowly and carefully licking a long swipe from your opening to your clit, like he was savoring the first taste of you. 

"You taste even better than you smell, amor." 

Fuck, he was savoring you. You trembled beneath him, your hands tentatively reaching down to tangle with his hair. And it was even softer than you thought it would be. 

"That's it," he encouraged. "Hang onto me." 

You listened, your grip on his hair tightening. As if that were his cue, he brought his tongue back to your aching pussy, lapping at the wetness that was all but dripping from you. Your body immediately felt too hot on the metal floor, and you were convinced that you were beginning to melt under the warmth of his tongue. The almost-penetration was sending you spiraling; he was giving you nothing that you needed while somehow simultaneously answering your every secret desire. You needed that mouth on your clit. Your greedy, aroused body needed more, more. You had him all to yourself and he was teasing you. It wasn't fair. 

You whimpered as you gripped soft locks of his hair, waiting for him to take the plunge. Waiting…. And waiting. But he just kept lapping contentedly at your entrance, just barely dipping his tongue inside. The feeling was pleasant but infuriating. What was he trying to do? Did he want you to beg for it?

Oh.

…He couldn't be serious. 

But that was the only conclusion you could reach. After all, he'd been asking to hear you say things this entire encounter, prompting you to be vocal. All you had to do was swallow your pride. 

"M-Miguel…?" You asked, your voice quiet.

He stopped, picking his head up slightly, looking at you from under his thick brows. "Mm? What is it?"

"Please, um… please…." Your voice caught in your throat. Why was this so difficult?

"Oh, you're begging me now? What could you possibly be begging for… Isn't this what you wanted?"

You narrowed your eyes as he held your gaze with that lackadaisical expression. 

"Please," you started, feeling humiliated. "Please suck on my clit."

"Good girl. All you had to do was ask." In no time at all, his mouth was back on you. He zeroed in on your clit, taking the sensitive bundle of nerves into the wet warmth of his mouth, sucking on it just as you needed. The feeling was so intense and you couldn't suppress any of the noises that escaped you. And the noises he made didn't help in the slightest. He was humming as he worked your clit, the gentle vibrations of his voice adding to the overstimulation. He stopped for a moment to instead use his tongue, and the pointed attention was delicious.

"How are you feeling, amor?" He asked without fully pulling away from you, his voice slightly lisping from the contact. 

"Good," you gasped, feeling like you were getting close to the edge. "So, so good. Please keep going."

"Tell me when you're going to cum."

"Yes, yes I will." 

He continued his efforts, mercilessly devouring you, a cacophony of wet sounds rising to meet your ears. You could feel your orgasm building, your body singing. He was playing you like an instrument. That warm, pulsating feeling was building deep inside your core, threatening to burst apart with every second. 

Your grip on his hair tightened. "Miguel, I'm- I'm gonna-" 

Your back started arching and you closed your eyes as… nothing happened. He pulled his head away from you. You opened your eyes to see him looking at you from between your legs, one of his eyebrows raised. 

"Wha- what?" 

He smirked. "Oh, this? It's nothing... It's just that douchebags usually don't care about making women cum."

Your jaw dropped open. This again? You gritted your teeth, your clit swollen and thrumming with your pulse. You needed release. 

"I'm sorry." You said, your voice desperate. 

He raised his eyebrows, amused. "Oh, wow, that was fast." His tone was so matter-of-fact.

"I'm sorry for calling you a douchebag and an asshole, I was wrong about you. Please let me cum." You spat the words out so quickly that you hardly registered what you were saying. 

"How could I say no to that?" He returned to you, gripping your thighs more firmly than he had before, shamelessly moaning into you as you started to curl up off the hard metal floor. Your orgasm was so close, it was right within your grasp. Your breath started going ragged as you held onto him for dear life. In a white hot burst of pleasure, you came, swearing loudly as Miguel drank up every bit of you, letting you ride your orgasm out on his skillful tongue. He slowed down right as you did, matching your pace perfectly until you were a heaving mess on the floor in front of him.

"My turn, now," his voice came through the fog, it sounded distant. But you could feel strong arms lifting you up and all but dropping you onto your back on one of the lab's computer consoles, its screen turning off in response. He dismissed a section of his high tech suit, his manhood coming free. You couldn't help but gawk at him. His body was unreal. From the small window he created, you could see hard lines of muscle carved into golden skin. Your head started spinning again. 

He began pumping his hard cock as he looked down at you, spreading your legs further open with his free hand. "See how easy it is to get what you want when you aren't being a brat?" The way his muscles flexed through his tight suit while he worked himself was maddening. You wanted- no, you needed him to fuck you. You needed him inside you. 

You nodded your head, answering his question. 

"So, tell me what you want." 

"I want you to fuck me," you answered, still panting from your orgasm. "I want to feel you so badly. Please, Miguel."

"You're a fast learner," he purred, bringing his cock to your folds and lubricating himself on the mess you two had made. He slid over your slick entrance, his head touching your aching clit as he moved up and down. "I'll fuck this pretty cunt for you, since you asked so nicely." 

He positioned himself at your entrance and slowly pushed himself inside of you, inch by thick inch. You moaned, the feeling of finally being full was luscious, he was pressing at your walls from all angles. At last, when he was in up to the hilt, he stayed there for a moment while his large hands found your waist. 

"My God, look at you. You took all of me, and so shocking well. You," he exhaled, seemingly taking a second to compose himself. "You feel so good." 

"Thank you," you whispered, breathless. He was praising you. It was… nice to hear. Stubbornness be damned.

He chuckled to himself. "Please and thank you? You really do learn fast. You've earned this, amor." And with that, he pulled himself out of you, slamming back in with a hard slap. Over and over, he fucked you with the entire length of his cock, hitting spots inside of you that you weren't sure even existed. "Lemme hear you, I wanna hear it all."

You obeyed. "O-oh my God, Miguel, fuck. It's… it's so good. Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you."

Thanking him fueled his fire; his grip on your waist tightening, red eyes sparkling wildly. "Good girl, that's it… watching my cock disappear inside of you… it's making me crazy. You like getting fucked by someone you hated before all this? You wanna get filled up by someone you don't even like?"

"Yes, please." Your back arched into him, the pressure from his unwavering thrusts overwhelming you. The feeling was impossibly perfect, your body tingling from your head to your toes. He really did fit inside of you so well.  

"You'll get it, baby. Keep being good for me, you'll get it." 

As he continued, his hands roamed your body. Groping at your breasts, resting on the soft slope of your stomach. You grabbed one of his traveling hands, a rogue feeling overtaking you as you brought it up to your throat. 

His eyes widened in disbelief. “Y-yeah? You want me to choke you?” He sounded excited.

“P-please,” you huffed, grabbing onto his forearm.

“Holy shit, you’re something else.” He began applying gentle pressure to your airway as he kept fucking you. It was the perfect amount of constriction; suppressing your breath intake just enough for your head to feel pleasantly airy. He was good at that, why was he so good at that?

Between the way he was pounding you and the way he was choking you, your muscles started to bear down on him.

"Yes, yes, squeeze that cock. Good girl. You’re gonna get what you want.” 

You clenched down on him, your orgasm rocking you to your core as he fucked you through it. It hit you in giant waves, crashing over you and pulling you into the undertow. You felt completely drunk on it. The warmth of it was everywhere in your body, all the way up to your fingertips. Your head swam, your eyes rolling back into your head. Miguel swore to himself, his tempo becoming more irregular. He released your throat, hands flying down to grip the console. You thought you could hear it cracking. 

“God, you’re tight. I’m gonna fill you up.”

“Yes,” you rasped, your body shaking. 

He growled as he came inside of you, bearing his fangs in clenched teeth once more, and you could feel his cock twitch followed by the heat of his seed as it stuffed you full. He lingered over you, his eyes looking frenzied as his gaze flicked over your face, his chest heaving with every recovering breath. 

You released a deep sigh, smiling tenderly at him. “Thank you, Miguel.”

“You, uh,” he started awkwardly, running his hands through his hair. He still hadn’t even pulled out of you yet. “You earned it,” he repeated. 

He took a short, unsure step back, as he pulled his length free from you. You could feel his cum leaking from you upon his release. There was so much of it. 

He held his hand out to you to help you up, and you grasped it, smiling again as you got to your feet. 

“I’ll clean this mess up, but you.…” He scanned your frame. “...I’ve got a pair of pants on one of the lab chairs down there.” He pointed toward a particularly cluttered section of his space. “Bringing them back would be a much better excuse to see me than a fight in the lobby.”

[ssa-neeks-prentiss]

Prompt: someone on the team has a secret child (the reader) and the team is shocked, but Hotch get into dad mode/uncle mode and has the child wrapped around his finger in minutes.

You choose the age of the child. I mean they could be an adult I guess.

Note : I might make this into a series and sorry if your name is Eleanor! I've also decided to stray and now she has three kids instead of one... Sooooo! I've also got like a little storyline and backstory planned out so it's like a 90 percent chance it will be a series! I also may have strayed a little of track :3

Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Word Count : 1.1k

AARON'S POV

He had been at work for roughly three hours by the time the team started to file in. He was always early, always getting there earlier than Spencer or Dave. It was a normal Tuesday. Except Tuesday meant paper work day. Despite how the team viewed him, he, in fact, did not like paperwork. At all. But he suffered through, wanting to be the best agent.

But he knew he wouldn't be. You were there. Wait, no, that sounded like jealousy. Okay, it kind of was. But you were just perfect. You were deterimined, young, agile and creative. The perfect agent. He was honestly surprised at the fact you hadn't been move up or been transferred to a higher department by now. But, their loss was a win to him.

He was then dragged from his thoughts as he heard a commotion from outside his office. Confused, he stood up and stepped outside. He looked down to meet the deep blue eyes of a young girl. His brows shot up in surprise as he spoke with a gentle tone.

"Hello?" He tried to not let his demeanor scare the girl and sighed in relief as the girl didn't seem to care, instead opting to grin and wave at him.

"Hello! I'm Eleanor, but everyone calls me Ellie! What's your name?"

He smiled at her introduction, the innocence of a little child always seemed to amaze him. He then leaned down.

"I'm Aaron. Nice to meet you."

She grinned up at him.

"You're Aaron! My mama told me about you!"

He looked perplexed.

"Your mama? Who's your mama?"

She looked at him with an incredulous look as if he had said the most stupidest thing ever.

"My mama? You don't know mama?"

He shook his head.

"Not by the name Mama. I would know her by a different name."

Eleanor nodded in an understanding way.

"Sorry, I don't know my mamas real name. I just call her mama."

She spoke with a shrug. He frowned.

"Can I pick you up? Then we can try and find your mama."

Her eyes lit up and she nodded.

"Okay! I don't know where mama went. She told me to stay put but I got Distracted."

He smiled softly as he picked her up as rested her on his hip. He then straightened up as he saw Derek walk up to them.

"What the.. You know.. I'm not even gonna ask."

Derek spoke with his hands up as he turned away but he paused when Eleanor spoke.

"You're Derek, right? Mama told me about you! She says you like.. Kicking doors down?"

Aaron chuckled quietly as he turned back around with a smile, well, it was more of a smirk.

"She did? Well, who is your mama?"

She shrugged.

"I don't know her name. Me and Aaron are going to find her! Do you wanna come? Ooh! Can I go on your shoulders? My uncle Azrael let's me go on his shoulders while he carries my sister!"

Aaron stopped and frowned.

"Your sister? Where is she?"

She looked up at him.

"Oh, she's at school, but mine was shut because of... Uh.. Stuff!"

Derek laughed at her explanation.

"But Azrael had this important job thingy or whatever so I got to go to her job with her! Which is this. But then I got lost. So I don't know where mama is now!"

The two shared looks of amusement at the girls words and her nonchalant tone while speaking. Aaron cleared his throat as he spoke.

"So, can you describe your mother?"

Eleanor nodded eagerly.

"She has Y/H/C hair!"

Aaron nodded. So that was still about half of the people in the building.

Eleanor moved to jump down and Aaron let her. She scrambled away surprisingly quickly for a little kid and Aaron and Derek shared a glance before a mutual agreement was made as the two jogged after her. The two caught up to her quickly and they decided to just walk around. Eleanor ranted to them as they walked, she was similar to Spencer in that way, constantly having something to rant about.

"Oh! And we have a dog! A German Shepherd! He's called Rex! He's a police dog for my Uncle Azrael but he stays with us so he's technically my dog!"

Aaron paused. He swears he had heard of a police dog called Rex. It was definitely mentioned by someone on the team... Who though? He couldn't for the life of him remember, which annoyed him because it was important in the moment.

She skipped as she had a hand in Derek's and a hand in his. Then then heard a familiar voice frantically calling the girls name.

"Eleanor?! Ellie?! Els?!"

They used multiple nicknames and they paused. Eleanor's face lit up as she called.

"Mama!"

Eleanor let go of the twos hands as she ran.. Right to you.. You sighed what he assumed as relief.

"Eleanor! Don't you dare run from me again!"

She spoke in a cross tone but she hugged Eleanor nonetheless. Derek's face shifted into one of surprise and Aaron could feel his do the same. You clearly hadn't noticed them until Eleanor grinned at you.

"Look who I met!"

She then pointed to then and you stood up to thank them until you saw who it was and you froze.

Aaron raised a brow and Derek voiced their question.

"You have a kid?!"

"Two kids?"

Aaron added after as he remembered Eleanor talking about a sister. You then grimaced.

"Three."

Aaron's eyes widened in surprise and so did Derek's.

"Why didn't you tell us?!"

She shrugged.

"It was on my information when I applied?"

She added meekly. Aaron rolled his eyes.

"What's going on about kids?"

The commotion had attracted Spencer and Penelope. Derek turned to the two of them.

"Y/N has three kids! Three!"

Penelope's eyes widened.

"Really?! I wanna meet them!"

Eleanor grinned from where she was beside you.

"I like your dress!"

Penelope's head snapped to you and Eleanor as she squealed and jogged to you.

"Who's this bundle of joy? Why did you hide her from us!"

She immediately leaned down to wrap her arms around Eleanor who did the same and accepted the hug with a grin. You smiled at the two and when the hug broke she put Eleanor on her waist. She then turned to Spencer.

"You can do magic tricks right? Can I see one? I wanna do magic!"

She spoke excitedly and Spencer's eyes lit up. He smiled as he nodded eagerly and Eleanor immediately jumped off of her mother and ran to Spencer who waved his hands excitedly as he spoke to the little girl. Her turned back to you and saw you watch the two with fondness in your gaze.

He smiled and walked over to you. You looked at him and smiled greatfully.

"Thank you for looking after her."

"It was no problem."

And it wasn't because he loved you. And he would do anything for you, and, by extension, your children as well.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Their bachelor party.. what kind of shenanigans are they getting in to?!

Hehe. Anon, I bow down to you. I had so much fun with this prompt. I was able to be super creative and silly with it. Really, I had a freaking blast with this. I also spent an insane amount of time researching stag night / stag parties / stag dos. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed putting it togther!

Presented in four double drabbles.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, drunken shenanigans

Word Count: 800

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“When you said ‘stag do’ I didn’t think…this.” Soap gestures vaguely.

“What were you expecting, Johnny? Strippers? A lap dance?” mocks Simon, keeping his gaze forward.

“You plan on giving me one, Lt?” asks Johnny with a devilish grin.

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you, Johnny?” replies Simon, downing the rest of his beer.

“Don’t know what you’re on about, Soap,” says Kyle from somewhere in the back. “Captain made a damn good choice. When are you ever gonna do this again?”

“It is my day,” says Price, settling back into his seat. “And this is what I want to do.”

Kyle drops off a fresh beer for Simon and clasps Johnny’s shoulder. “We’re at a sold-out football match in a box suite.” He gestures behind him. “There’s a buffet and beer on tap. More than the four of us could eat or drink. Fucking glorious, mate.” Kyle brings his beer to his lips, and sighs once he’s taken a long gulp.

“What about tonight, Captain?” asks Johnny. “We drinking?”

Price nods. “With some of the bride’s family actually.”

Kyle leans forward. “I got us all matching outfits.”

“I’m not wearing shit,” says Price over his shoulder.

“He is,” whispers Kyle.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“Holy fucking hell, Kyle. You did good!” Soap slides on his sunglasses and places his hands on his hips. “This place is fucking paradise.”

“Get in the shade, Johnny. You’re gonna burn,” says Simon, sipping on his piña colada.

With a grin on his face, Johnny stalks over and plucks the tiny pink umbrella out of Simon’s drink. He sucks on the end of the stick.

“I need someone to get my back. You up for it, Lt?”

Simon gives Soap a blank stare as he finishes the last of his drink. Kyle starts to laugh, leaning back in his beach chair.

“What the fuck are we in right now, Johnny?” asks Simon.

Johnny glances around and shrugs.

“A cabana.”

“Oh, aye. When we were on that mission—”

“Fucking hell,” mutters Simon. “I’m getting another drink.”

“Grab me something with tequila in it,” says Kyle.

“Who’s putting sunscreen on my back?”

“Have the groom do it,” growls Simon as heads for the bar.

Johnny shrugs and turns toward Kyle, the end of the pink umbrella still in his mouth. “Bit hairy back there.”

Kyle shakes his head and cups his mouth with both hands. “Price! Come get your sergeant!”

John "Soap" MacTavish

“Fucking look at us.” Johnny grins and turns around to face Price, Kyle, and Simon. “We ready to go?”

“You’re not fucking wearing that. And I’m not wearing this.” Simon takes off his hat and gestures at Johnny with it. “We look insane.”

“What? This?” Johnny glances down at his outfit. It’s a Pikachu onesie. Hood included. “Pretty fucking comfortable.”

Price, Simon, and Kyle are all dressed up like Ash Ketchum. Even the hats have the correct logo.

“We look fucking ridiculous,” grumbles Price, fidgeting with his jacket.

“I think we look pretty smashing actually,” shrugs Kyle.

“Didn’t you watch Pokémon growing up?” asks Johnny. “We sure did.” He drapes his arm over Kyle’s shoulder.

Simon stares blankly, arms crossed over his chest. “There better not be pictures. I don’t want to find myself on the fucking internet in this.”

“Or shown at work,” mumbles Price.

Johnny lightly punches Simon shoulder. “You look good, Lt.”

“If it helps,” interrupts Kyle. “We can fill these with alcohol.” He holds up one of the plastic pokeballs that he, Price, and Simon have clipped to their belts.

“Thank fucking hell,” sighs Price. “I’m in.”

“Simon?” asks Johnny.

Simon rolls his eyes. “Hells. Fine.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“Lads! Lads! Lads! Lads!”

Kyle and Johnny chant manically as Simon chugs his beer. It takes a few meager seconds and then they yell fiercely, beating their chests before grabbing Simon’s shoulders and shaking him. Simon wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Another!”

Kyle grabs Simon’s empty glass and heads to the bar to order another round. Johnny breaks out into song. It’s in Scots. He’s loud and off-key.

“Speak English,” laughs Simon.

Price crosses his arms over his chest and leans back in the booth, resting his head on the top. His eyelids shut.

Soap switches over to English but it lasts for only a few lines. He switches between the two, even tossing in a bit of Gaelic. Simon doesn’t understand any of it.

Kyle comes back with another round. Price opens one eye and groans. “Can’t. Heartburn.”

As soon as the words leave Price’s mouth, Johnny snags Price’s beer and downs it before picking up his own and consuming that.

“Fucking hell,” mutters Price. “I won’t be dragging your ass home. Any of you.”

Simon and Kyle clink glasses as down half of theirs.

Johnny grins. “We’ve got three more pubs to go, Captain.”

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@enarien @saoirse06 @ferns-fics @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett

@ravenpoe67 @tulipsun-flower @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat @ninman82

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@haven-1307 @voids-universe @itsberrydreemurstuff @spicyspicyliving @keiva1000

@littlemisscriesherselftosleep @greeniegreengreen @umno-yeah @blackhawkfanatic @talooolaaloolla

@sadlonelybagel @kadeeesworld @iloveslasher @sammysinger04 @dakotakazansky

@suhmie @jaggersinclair @jackrabbitem @lxblm @beebeechaos

@no-oneelsebutnsu @kidd3ath @certainlygay @thewulf @lovely-ateez

@whisperwispxx @gingergirl06 @eternallyvenus @smileykiddie08 @arrozyfrijoles23

[kwanisms]

Of Hellfire & Saints 02 — k.hongjoong, k.yeosang

«« previous | library of illusion masterlist | next »»

➮ incubus!Hongjoong × fem!Reader wc: 22.9k (in this part. 50.2k total) summary: After the death of the love of her life, Y/N runs away from the village only to be caught in a heavy storm but she manages to find refuge in Hongjoong's hut in the forest. While waiting out the storm, someone knocks on the door, prompting her to answer the door. genres/themes/au: angst, slight fluff, smut; fantasy, horror, supernatural, biblical & demonic; non idol au, historical setting, demon warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, historical period setting (think Puritan or like Salem witch trials but fantasy and with more creative liberty lol), mentions of: alcohol & food consumption, witches & witchcraft, religious text & ideology, harm against animals, pregnancy; attempted SA, major & minor character deaths (heed this warning, i’m not playing around. This shit is DARK), sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut!

a/n:  the word count on this got away from me and so to make it all fit because i really don't want to edit it down, I've split it into two posts. I had really hoped to keep the word count down after what happened with part one but I really could not stop writing. as I said in the author notes of the first part, read with care and caution. Do NOT ignore the warnings. They are there for a reason, a lot of people die. It’s not fun. It’s gruesome. Also keep in mind that every action has a reason. Now that’s out of the way, please enjoy this sequel and keep an eye out for the next part which will be Seonghwa’s backstory. Thank you so much for reading and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: smut warnings: there are multiple scenes in this so I will list the warnings for each one here but all of them involved unprotected sex. You do not do this. Use protection, this is fantasy. MAIN SCENE: fingering (f receiving), use of pet names (love, sweetheart, darling, etc), love-making (again because they’re in love~), cum inside, and that’s also it on this one! SMALLER SCENES: mentions of oral (f receiving, m receiving) and other elements of foreplay as well as table sex but nothing mentioned in great detail.

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The next morning you woke up before Yeosang and got up, grabbed your nightgown from your things, and pulled it on. Normally you would get dressed but as this was now your marital home, you didn’t feel the need to follow your parents rules. Instead, you made breakfast, collected a few eggs from the chicken coop and prepared a nice breakfast as well as some tea.

Once breakfast was ready, you carried the plates into the bedroom where Yeosang was still asleep and sat on the edge of the bed. You set the plates down and leaned over, pressing a kiss to his cheek and watched as he slowly came to.

He opened his eyes, blinking away the sleep and looked up at you sleepily, a smile crossing his face as you came into focus. “Morning,” he murmured and you smiled back, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Good morning, husband,” you said softly.

Yeosang’s eyes opened again as the realization sank in, his smile growing wider. “Oh, right,” he said as he reached up, caressing your cheek. “We got married,” he whispered to which you giggled and stole another kiss. “We got married,” you repeated.

Yeosang pulled you into a kiss, lips parting yours but you pulled back before he could escalate any further. “We can always spend the morning in bed,” you said softly as you sat up. “But you should eat breakfast first,” you added. You turned, grabbing one of the plates and holding it for him. Yeosang glanced at the plates and then back at you.

“Shouldn’t we get up and eat at the table?” he asked, to which you chuckled, kissing his confused face. “Who said we have to?” you asked as you handed him his plate and utensils. Yeosang sat up, leaning against the headboard as you grabbed the other plate and carefully climbed over him, taking the spot next to him with a giggle. He laughed as you settled in next to him and started eating.

“This is our home,” you said as you looked up at him. “And we make the rules here.”

You both ate breakfast, sipping the tea you had made and when you both finished, you took the plates and cups into the kitchen and set them aside to wash later before returning to the bed. Yeosang started to get up but you removed your chemise, letting it fall to the floor. Yeosang looked up at your naked form as you approached him.

“If this is what it’s like to be married,” he started, taking your hand and guiding you onto the bed as you pulled the covers back. “I’m glad I asked you to marry me.”

The next couple hours were spent in bed, Yeosang learning your body and you learning his, exploring each other more thoroughly. He took the lead, having picked up quickly what you liked and that you preferred him on top of you.

You introduced him to other aspects of the marital bed, learning very quickly what he liked and what made him weak in your hands. He wasted no time exploring your body and reciprocating the things you had learned from Hongjoong.

He learned that he really liked the way you tasted and how he could make you come undone with his tongue and fingers. He learned there was more to sex than just procreating and after multiple orgasms and coming inside you numerous times during your sessions, there was no doubt in your minds that one of them had to take.

You lay on the bed after hours of lovemaking, Yeosang on top of you, his head resting on your chest as you relaxed. Without warning, he raised his head and looked at you, pressing a kiss to your lips. “I know we’ve only been married for less than a day but I honestly think I —” his words were cut off by a sharp knocking at the door.

Yeosang glanced in the direction of the front door before turning to look at you. “Hold that thought,” he said as he got up, hastily grabbing his clothes and dressed quickly. You pulled the covers up as he walked over to the door, throwing you a grimace before closing it.

You sat up, holding the sheets to your chest as you listened to his footsteps approach the front door followed by the sound of it opening. “Oh, Jonas,” you heard your husband say and fought the urge to burst into laughter, knowing full well that Yeosang probably looked less than presentable.

“Is everything alright?” you heard Jonas ask. You stifled a laugh as Yeosang stammered out a yes. He admitted the two of you woke up late and it took everything inside you not to burst out laughing at Jonas’ next question.

“Did the missus keep you up all night?”

You could imagine the look on Yeosang’s face and that his cheeks were probably bright red but he did sound embarrassed as he cleared his throat and spoke.

“Is there a reason you’re visiting me?” You shifted on the bed, straining your ears to hear the next words.

“The priests have started to arrive. The ones you sent for from the neighboring villages.”

Your eyes widened. ‘Priests?’ you wondered as you listened in. “Oh! I’ll just get dressed and meet you at the church,” Yeosang replied, sounding slightly flustered. You couldn’t see Jonas but imagined he nodded as his response was delayed for a moment.

“I think that would be best. I’m sure your wife could use the time during your absence to attend to her household duties.” Your smile fell but you let the comment slide. You heard the sound of footsteps heading for the door and Yeosang bid Jonas farewell before shutting the door.

You heard his steps shuffle towards the bedroom door and it opened. You looked up, meeting his eyes and finally the laughter you’d been holding in sprang free and you erupted into a fit of giggles as he entered the bedroom, moving to the bed and climbing onto it.

“How much did you hear?” he asked and you managed to choke out you heard enough. A grin spread across his face and soon your laughter came out unabashed as he started to tickle your sides. “You find it funny?” he asked as he continued to tickle you, laughing at your attempts to stop him. “He knew! He knew what we were doing!” he added.

You threw your arms around his neck and pulled him down. “Of course he knew, Yeosang. We’re a young married couple. We just married yesterday. Of course we’re going to consummate our marriage.” Yeosang looked mortified but could help smile as you continued to giggle and pulled him into a kiss.

He leaned into you, deepening the kiss before he pulled back. “No,” he said as you kissed down the side of his neck. “I have to go. I can’t stay here in bed with you, as tempting as it is,” he added, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “After I meet with this priest, I will return and then we can resume, all right?”

You pouted up at him which only made him chuckle and tap the tip of your nose gently. “I promise, sweetheart,” he added, the sound of the name on his tongue making a flutter erupt in your stomach. “I have to meet with these priests and explain the situation and afterwards, I’ll come back.”

He pressed a few short kisses to your lips and you sighed. “Oh all right,” you finally conceded. “How long will you be?” you asked, taking his hand and nuzzling into his palm. “A few hours maybe,” he replied, caressing your cheek with his thumb.

You nodded slowly before sighing again. “Then I shall have lunch ready when you get back.” Yeosang smiled, pulling you into another kiss. “I look forward to it,” he said before getting up and starting to dress and make himself presentable.

Once he left, you got up and dressed finally and went about your chores, cleaning the used dishes and starting a fire to make lunch. You worked diligently as you hummed to yourself. You cut up potatoes and other vegetables from the pantry and added them to a pot with some beef stock as well as a cut of beef.

As it simmered, you went to work cleaning and putting away your things. You also hung up your painting, the one you had made of the wildflower field. As you stared at it, your mind wandered, a bittersweet feeling filling your chest.

Things had changed so drastically in the last few weeks since Hongjoong’s death. Before, you had planned to run away with Hongjoong, marry elsewhere, and start a life near the sea. That seemed like a distant memory now as you stood in your new home where you would live with your husband.

You had never imagined you would marry Yeosang as he was not the man you had fallen for but as the events unfolded, you couldn’t see yourself with anyone else. Hongjoong was the love of your life but you knew with Yeosang, you could be happy. You would be.

As promised, Yeosang returned but later than lunchtime as while he was meeting with the first priest, another arrived making it two he needed to speak with. When he returned for dinner, you sat at the table this time, listening as he told you about the priests, one named Yunho and one named Jongho.

That night as you were cleaning up after dinner, Yeosang joined you and despite your insistence that he leave the work to you, he helped you anyway. Initially you thought it was odd but as soon as the dishes were done he pulled you into a kiss which led to him guiding you to the table where he made you lie back as his kisses traveled down your clothed body, pulling your skirt up and burying his head between your thighs.

He had you on the brink of orgasm in no time and instead of letting you fall over the edge, he pulled back, wiping his mouth as he undid his pants and pushed them down, freeing his cock which he then pushed into you. It was raw, carnal and passionate as he made love to you on the table.

You seemed to have awakened a sexual beast in him after the first night and the next few days consisted of the same schedule. Meeting the priests who arrived, giving a brief explanation of the situation and taking them around the village to introduce them to the villagers before returning home for dinner and spending a good portion of the night making love to you.

His stamina and strength surprised you, as well his ability to pin you down against the nearest flat surface and make you moan his name over and over again. It was almost more than you could bear but bear it you did, because you would be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy every moment of it. Yeosang all but worshiped your body and any chance he had to show you that, he took.

His sexual appetite did not diminish even when the misfortunes of the village continued with the odd goat or pig being slaughtered in the night. Yeosang continued to show you physical love every night and even some mornings before you could pull yourself out of the tangle of sheets that was your marital bed.

Whether or not your attempts had gotten you pregnant didn’t matter to you. You enjoyed the physically intimate relationship between you and your husband immensely and that was more important than some religious texts telling you to have children. If a child came as a result of your union, then you would cherish that but it was not the goal.

For Yeosang, he was conflicted with his sexual urges because of the teachings of the church but he also knew that you were not exactly a godly woman but that didn’t bother him in the slightest. He knew this when he agreed to marry you. He wanted to protect you from the villagers' wrath should things go south but he also felt that by marrying you, it would also offer another layer of protection against the demon.

Surely Hongjoong would become enraged if he learned of the relationship between the two of you but that was a risk Yeosang was willing to take. He’d grown to love you before your wedding and while he hadn’t had the chance to tell you just yet, he still wanted to show you.

The day the final priest showed up was a quiet morning. A flock of chickens had been slaughtered in their coop the night before and the aftermath had been a slew of wails, cries, and calls for action. The last priest to arrive, a man named Mingi, was from the next closest village on the other side of the mountains. He arrived in the middle of the night so Yeosang was already in for the night. 

Jonas had offered him shelter and promised to rouse Yeosang in the morning which Yeosang would come to be eternally grateful for as he was deep in the throes of passion with you, tangled in the sheets as he made love to you again and again.

The next morning, Yeosang finally met with him to explain the situation and introduce him to the other priests. Mingi was a soft-spoken but highly intelligent man with an interesting history with witches. Yeosang had asked you before leaving to prepare a dinner large enough for all the priests so you planned to go foraging, stopping by your parent’s house to meet with your mother who agreed to go with you.

As you walked into the forest not too far from the village, you found the small section where you usually collected mushrooms from.

“How is married life?” your mother asked as you knelt down to start unearthing the mushrooms. “It is good,” you replied as you worked, handing her the mushrooms to put in the sack. “And how is your husband treating you?”

You looked up at her to see that she had a knowing look on her face. “He’s wonderful,” you answered truthfully. You handed her a few more mushrooms before getting up to move to another section, searching for more.

“And will we be expecting any new additions to the village soon?”

You glanced up at her, taking note of her smile before a smile spread over your face and you turned away in an attempt to hide it from your mother. “Y/N! Don’t you try to hide it from me!” your mother whispered, gently hitting you with the linen sack.

“We’re not trying exactly,” you explained as you dug up mushrooms. “We’re just… enjoying the marital bed,” you continued. “If a child comes from our… activities, we will gladly welcome it. Right now, Yeosang’s focus is the demon,” you added. 

Your mother stepped forward and knelt beside you, taking your hand in hers. “Becoming a mother is the greatest honor God can bestow upon you, Y/N,” she said gently. “It is your duty to give your husband children.” You nodded and looked up. “I know,” you answered. “I will welcome one if it comes but if one doesn’t…” you trailed off as a high pitched whistle rang out.

You turned to look around, noticing how the forest seemed to grow darker around you. Your mother stood without a word, looking into the trees, a look of dread and horror etched on her face. “Mother?” you asked, getting to your feet.

“Run,” your mother whispered, not taking her eyes off a particular spot in the trees. “Mama?” you asked, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. “RUN!” she screamed, pushing you away. You fell back from the force and looked over in time to see a dark smoke billow out from the trees, heading for you and your mother.

You watched in horror as the smoke started to envelope your mother and she turned to look at you one final time. “It’s going to be okay, Y/N,” she said, her voice panicked as the smoke shrouded her. “Run and don’t look back!”

Before you could get to your feet, the smoke turned black, obscuring your mother from view and her anguished screams of pain filled the air, sending the birds in the trees into a flight, squawking as they did.

When the smoke dissipated, all that remained of your mother was a charred, skeletal corpse. You heard a twig snap and turned your head to see a black, shadowy figure with glowing red eyes watching you with a wide, crooked grin full of sharp teeth.

Your breathing came in heavy pants as you tried to scramble backwards, the figure floating towards you. As it drew closer, you could see the face come into view and let out a whimper of fear to see Hongjoong staring back at you, his skin blackened and cracked.

“Run little lamb,” he said in a deep, demonic voice. Before you could act, he lunged forward and you let out a scream, sitting upright. There was a shuffling from the other room and the door opened. You turned, cowering away as a figure entered the room and rushed over to the bed where you lay.

“Shh, shh,” a familiar voice said and you looked up as Yeosang sat down, taking your hand in his. “It’s alright, love,” he added. “I’m here.” He pulled you into a hug, stroking your back as you calmed down. “Wh-what happened?” you asked.

Yeosang pulled back and turned to look at the door where your mother stood, a wet cloth in her hand and worried look on her face. “You fainted,” she said without hesitation. You looked from her to Yeosang and back. “When?”

Your mother stepped forward. “When we went into the forest to get mushrooms. You were digging some up and took ill, fainting out on the ground.” You stared at her, trying to wrack your brain but all you could recall was the horrid dream you’d had.

‘It was a dream, right?’

You looked up at Yeosang who gently took your face in his hands, caressing the apple of your cheeks. “It’s all right, love,” he said softly. “Just take it slow,” he added as you pushed his hands away and attempted to sit up.

“Have you been feeling faint or taken ill in the mornings lately?” your mother asked, drawing your attention. You shook your head as you looked at her, watching her exchange looks with your husband. “What is going on?” you demanded.

“Your mother thinks — ” Yeosang started but your mother interrupted him, stepping forward to speak over your husband. “You might be with child,” she announced. You stared at her in stunned silence before turning your gaze to Yeosang who sighed and looked back at you.

“It’s highly possible,” he admitted, caressing your cheek with one hand and taking your hand with the other. ‘With child? Now?’ You fell silent as your mother and husband both talked at the same time until you finally snapped. “How can we know for sure?” you asked.

Both fell silent, looking at you. “How can we know for sure that I am with child?” Yeosang turned to your mother who hesitated before clearing her throat and speaking. “There are ways to check,” she admitted. “Specific… test we can perform.”

Yeosang glanced at you before speaking to your mother. “What sort of tests?” he asked. Your mother hesitated, wringing the cloth in her hand nervously. “Well, the barley and wheat test,” she said softly. “She would need to urinate on barley and wheat seeds over the course of several days. If the barley seeds sprout then it will be a boy. If the wheat seeds sprout, then you’ll be having a girl.”

“And if neither sprout?” you asked, breaking your silence. “Then you are not with child,” your mother answered. You saw Yeosang’s shoulders visibly relax and he turned to look at you, giving you a small smile. “It’s worth a try,” he said softly, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. You nodded in agreement.

“Just to be sure,” you stated to which both your mother and Yeosang nodded.

The next day, Yeosang managed to secure the seeds and buried them behind the house, marking their placement so you would be able to find them even at night. Each time you went out to do your business, your cheeks burned, although you knew no one was watching.

And each time, you returned to the house feeling more embarrassed than before and returned to the bedroom. Over the next few days, you continued to go outside to urinate over the spot where the seeds had been planted and your mother came by to help you with your daily chores. She insisted you rested and while she did your tasks before leaving to head home and prepare dinner for your father.

You ignored Yeosang’s insistence to stay in bed and got up to finish dinner. As you were checking the potatoes in the stew, there was a knock on the door. Yeosang answered it and you kept your head down as he let the visiting priests enter the house. It went from two to seven and soon your modest house was crowded.

Thankfully, there were extra chairs for the table in the second bedroom and Yeosang had the foresight to pull them out before and set the table up in the living room. He cleared his throat and crossed the living room to peer into the kitchen where you stood by the hearth.

“They’re here,” he said softly and beckoned you over. You shook your head. “Oh, no, it’s alright,” you said softly, waving your hand. “I’ll just serve them dinner and stay in here while you meet with them.” Yeosang glanced back before entering the kitchen and crossed the room to where you stood. He placed a hand on your waist, the other moving to tilt your head back to look at him. “I invited them here to meet you,” he explained.

“They want to meet you.”

Your eyes widened as you stared back at him. “They do?” Yeosang nodded, a smile spreading across his face. “Of course,” he said softly, leaning into nuzzle his nose against yours in a display of affection before he placed a chaste kiss to your lips.

“So come out here and meet them, love.”

You placed the wooden ladle down, wiping your hands and smoothing down your apron. Yeosang took your hand and led you towards the door and into the living room. There were five men sitting around the table, a couple of them chatting amongst themselves.

When you entered with Yeosang, they all looked up in mild surprise. Your cheeks grew warm under their gazes as they watched you with your husband. “These are the visiting priests from the nearby villages,” Yeosang explained, gesturing at the group.

He gestured at the closest one, a man with cat-like eyes and broad shoulders. Even sitting down, you could tell this man was tall. He had hair like fire, a yellow that faded into fiery orange at the ends. “This is Song Mingi, he knows a lot about witches and sorcerers.”

Mingi nodded his head, bowing in a sign of respect, a gesture you returned. Next to him was a man who despite the thick black robes he wore you could tell was muscular and strong. He had dark brown, almost black hair, and gave you a small smile when your eyes met. “Choi Jongho, the youngest of his order and has performed a record number of exorcisms.”

Beside Jongho was a much slimmer looking man with bright red hair that took you by surprise. “Jung Wooyoung,” Yeosang said, as your gaze passed over  him. “He travels the countryside with his partner,” he explained, gesturing to the man sitting on the other side of Wooyoung. You nodded and felt your cheeks burn as Wooyoung smiled and sent you a wink. The man beside him, his partner, elbowed him harshly. 

Either your husband didn’t notice or chose not to address the wink, for he moved on. “Choi San,” he said and the man who had elbowed Wooyoung gave you a warm smile, his black hair shorter than Mingi’s but cut the same as Wooyoung’s and pushed back off his forehead.

“San is a demon hunter,” Yeosang explained. Sitting beside San was the last priest. “This is Jeong Yunho,” Yeosang introduced. “He has experience performing exorcisms and banishing rituals. He was the first to arrive,” Yeosang said, reminding you of the morning after your wedding night.

You smiled politely, bowing your head. “It’s nice to meet you, Misses,” Yunho said politely with a sweet smile. “This is Y/N,” Yeosang said, gesturing towards you. “My wife.”

There was a low chorus of greetings passed around by your guests and you returned them with as much politeness and grace as you could muster. You looked up at Yeosang and leaned in to whisper in his ear. “I’ll go get the stew,” you explained.

“Let me help,” he said, turning to follow but you waved your hand, urging him to take his seat. The last thing you wanted was him to appear as anything other than the man of the house before your visitors and so you returned to the kitchen, grabbing a cloth to protect your hand as you grabbed the handle of the hot pot hanging over the hearth and the wooden ladle.

Your mother had already set the table, bowls, plates, and cups set for each person. Yeosang had filled the cups and pieces of bread were already set on the plates as you moved to place the pot on the table. It was much heavier than you initially thought, as you made more than you usually did.

Noticing your struggle, Mingi got up to help you and despite your protests, he took the heavy pot and set it on the table. You thanked him profusely and started to spoon a helping of stew into each bowl, serving your husband after each guest and before picking up the now much lighter pot.

“What about you?” you heard a voice ask and turned to find six pairs of eyes on you. With a smile you bowed your head. “I don’t want to get in the way,” you answered. “I will just eat in the kitchen and stay out of your way.” Yeosang’s expression fell but as he moved to get up, Wooyoung beat him to it, rounding the table and grabbing the pot from you.

You followed him, trying to take it back but he gently nudged you back and spooned a helping into the seventh bowl before setting the pot in the middle of the table, took your hand and placed a gentle hand on your back, guiding you to the spot between your husband and San.

“Sit,” he simply said and moved back to his own seat. You glanced around at the table before your eyes settled on your husband and he nodded towards the chair beside him. “The cook should not be confined to the kitchen,” San added, gesturing for you to sit and after a moment, you took your seat, thanking them as Yeosang tried to fill your cup but you declined.

The smell of the ale was enough to make your stomach churn and you didn’t want to get sick before you ate. You stared at the stew while those around you ate and enjoyed the meal. You grabbed the wooden spoon next to your bowl but as you stared at the meat and potatoes, you couldn’t fathom even taking a bite, your stomach churning as the mere thought of eating made you sick beyond belief.

“Yeosang tells us you’re familiar with the demon,” a voice drew you out of your stupor and you looked up, meeting the gaze of Yunho who sat across from you. You glanced to your left, where your husband sat. He looked up to meet your gaze and nodded encouragingly.

“It’s alright,” he said softly. “You can tell them. Whatever is said here will not leave this house.”

You set the spoon down and took a deep breath before starting.

“I am. In life, he was my…” you trailed off, glancing at Yeosang, uncertain of how to continue. “Go on, love,” he urged. “Just tell them.” You glanced back at Yunho, who was watching you curiously. “He was my previous lover,” you finally said.

A silence fell over the table. “Your lover?” San asked from your right. You turned him and nodded. “Yes,” you answered. “He lived in a cabin in the forest by himself. His great grandfather built the cabin for his pregnant wife and all generations of Hongjoong’s family have lived there. It’s where Hongjoong was born.”

“So he wasn’t a member of the community, then?” Mingi asked, to which you shook your head. “No,” you replied. “He lived outside our community, outside our… rules.” Mingi sat back, arms crossed over his chest and you noticed he’d already finished his bowl.

“If you’re still hungry, please,” you added, gesturing to the pot with a smile. A small smile spread over Mingi’s face before he thanked you and helped himself to more stew. “Please,” San said. “Continue.”

You went on, explaining how you met Hongjoong when you were around 12 years old and that the two of you never really interacted except when he came to the village with his family. You went on to tell them how you met again when he was 17 and his mother had just passed and then again when he was 18 and his father passed, leaving him alone.

You explained the story of your friendship that grew into romance and how you fell in love with Hongjoong. As you told the story, you could see various looks on the faces of your guests ranging from concentration to adoration. It occurred to you that this was the first time you were telling this story in front of Yeosang and he was listening with rapt attention.

As you concluded that part of the story, Jongho spoke up.

“How did he become a demon? Surely someone who lived as you have described doesn’t just turn into a demon overnight,” he said. He’d removed his robe at some point and under it he wore a black fitted jacket and black pants.

You shook your head. “I don’t pretend to know the details,” you said softly. “He explained to me what he could remember. He said he remembered suffocating and being surrounded by darkness. He also recalled an intense burning pain and this awful laughter. He said it felt like he was being tortured for thousands of years and then he came to.”

Wooyoung finally spoke up, his chin resting in his hand. “He woke up in the grave the villagers buried him in and freed himself?” he asked. You turned to him, peering around San, and nodded. “That’s what he said. He broke out of the coffin and clawed his way out of the grave.”

A few sets of eyes turned to look at your husband who confirmed your story. “When Y/N came to after taking ill, she told Jonas and I of this and I was immediately sent to check the grave and it was indeed disturbed. We then had it dug up and found the coffin empty, the top of it caved in,” he added. “We knew then that Hongjoong had risen from his grave.”

“What happened after he got out?” Mingi asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. “He must have come straight back to the cabin,” you replied. “I was already there. I ran away from my parents house after…” you hesitated, glancing at Yeosang who gave you a quizzical look. You looked away and continued.

“After my father hit me and told me what he and the other villagers had done. They’d killed Hongjoong.” You could see Yeosang visibly tense next to you but pressed on, deciding not to address it right then.

“So Hongjoong returned to the cabin and I helped him clean up and we… got intimate,” you said, cheeks burning under the gaze of six priests hanging onto your every word. “The next morning, I thought I had dreamt the whole thing but then Hongjoong appeared and I knew it wasn’t a dream. I thought that maybe the universe had sent him back because it wasn’t his time. I thought he’d been given a second chance but then he started to… change.”

“How did he change?” Yunho inquired. You looked up at him. “He started to get… ravenous? I’m not entirely sure how to explain it. But it was like… he couldn’t get enough. Like his appetite couldn’t be satiated.”

“By appetite you mean his sexual desire?” San asked, tilting his head. You refused to meet his gaze, instead staring intently at the table, studying the pattern of the wood grain and nodded. “Yes,” you replied. “He soon started to lose control of himself. Almost like he was slipping and the demon was starting to take over. He would physically change, too. His eyes, his voice, the burn marks on his body.”

You hesitated, taking a deep breath. “One morning, I woke up to find the cabin empty so I went looking for him and found him by the stream in the forest. When I approached, he told me to stay away and when I didn’t listen, he lashed out at me. He ran and I tried to follow but I lost him in the forest so I went back to the cabin and waited for him to return.”

“And did he?” Wooyoung asked. You nodded wordlessly. “But he lost control again and I think this is when the demon finally took hold. He tried to attack me and so I ran back to the village where I ran into Yeosang. Since then, Hongjoong has been terrorizing the village and killing not only the livestock but also the daughters of the men who killed him. I’m the only one left now.”

You concluded your story to silence. Yeosang took your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. You glanced up, resisting the urge to burst into tears. He gave you a comforting smile as the rest of your guests processed your story. “Thank you for telling us your story,” Yunho finally said. 

“Can I ask you something?” San inquired, drawing yours and Yeosang’s attention. “Of course,” Yeosang answered. “If Hongjoong was your lover,” he started, addressing you before looking up at Yeosang. “How did she end up marrying you?”

“Before Hongjoong’s death,” Yeosang started to explain. “Her father had come to me, asking me if I would consider marrying Y/N. His fear with Hongjoong being blamed for the village’s misfortunes, his relationship with Y/N might paint her as a target,” he continued.

“So he wanted to distance his family from that and save their reputation.” You felt your stomach churn as Yeosang spoke. “If it had been anyone else, I would have said no,” Yeosang continued, making you look up at him.

“I said yes because while I wanted to protect Y/N, another part of me had already grown quite fond of her and I would be lying if I said that part of me didn’t already love her.”

Your breath caught in your throat, heart skipping a beat as you stared at your husband. His eyes met yours and you suddenly understood, words from your wedding night replaying in your head. ‘I’ve always been yours.’

You tore your gaze from his, staring down at your uneaten stew.

“I see,” San answered softly. “So after Hongjoong’s death and Y/N came back,” Wooyoung started only for Yeosang to finish. “When Hongjoong was taken from the church and dragged to the tree, Y/N learned what happened and she ran away. I suppose her father decided that the agreement between us was no longer necessary since she was no longer in the village. No one expected her to come back. When she did, her father tried to reinstate the agreement but Y/N was in no state to marry anyone. She was catatonic, unresponsive —”

“An empty shell,” you interrupted, your voice soft. You could feel six pairs of eyes turn towards you. “What?” you heard Wooyoung ask. “An empty shell,” you repeated, a little louder. “When I came back, I honestly don’t even remember much. I remember running through the woods and I barely remember running into Yeosang and then after that, everything was just a blur. I don’t even know how long I was like that.”

“Sixteen days,” Yeosang answered. He looked up as you turned to look at him. “You were catatonic for thirteen and got sick. You were at death’s door for three days. Sixteen days total.”

A silence fell over the table as you and your husband looked at one another, a moment of understanding passing over you. “And then?” San asked, breaking the silence. Yeosang reluctantly tore his gaze away from you.

“And then, she woke up. She came back from the brink of death. Her mother nursed her back to health and when she was able to stay awake, Jonas and I came to get her account of the events that happened before she came back. She told us everything. Jonas left no stone unturned and you told him everything,” he said, addressing you at the end.

“Truth be told, I don’t think I could have told him everything if you weren’t there,” you admitted. “Jonas terrifies me.”

A look of confusion crossed Yeosang’s face but before he could ask you why, Yunho spoke up. “Now that we know all of this, we need to devise a plan of attack,” he said, earning a few murmurs of agreement from around the table. Yeosang glanced at your bowl and gestured for you to eat before he turned to join the conversation.

“I have to agree with you,” Jongho answered from beside Yunho. “The longer we sit around and do nothing, the more danger the village is in. “The more danger Y/N is in,” San added, looking at you as you finally took a bite of the stew which had since grown cold.

“So what do you suggest?” Wooyoung asked, looking at Yunho. “We could always try to exorcize the demon from Hongjoong?” Yunho suggested, turning to look at Yeosang who contemplated. Jongo spoke up again. “If Hongjoong’s soul is still intact, that could work but in exorcizing the demon, he could just be killed.”

“He’s already dead,” Wooyoung reminded him. “We don’t even know if his soul is in his body.”

You set your spoon down, a little harder than you meant to, drawing the attention of everyone in the room as you turned to look at the red-haired man. “His soul is in his body,” you said simply. Wooyoung and San exchanged worried looks before San turned to you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“We know you want to believe that, Y/N, but the chances are —”

“His soul is in his body,” you snapped. “Y/N,” Wooyoung tried to intervene but Yeosang held his hand up. “Let her speak,” he interjected.

“When he died, Hongjoong told me how he fell into darkness and felt like he was tortured for thousands of years,” you said, looking around at each one of the priests. “He also spoke of fire, brimstone, and burning. I think that maybe, his soul was sent to hell and when it came back it wasn’t because of his own determination. It was because something came back with him,” you explained. 

“Something not human.”

Several of the priests exchanged worried looks. “You think a demon latched onto his soul and came back with him and is now inhabiting his body?” Yeosang asked, making sure to clarify what you just shared. You nodded slowly. “And I think, if you try to exorcize the demon, it will pull his own soul out as well.”

Yeosang let out a sigh. “That could be possible,” Yunho said softly, looking at Wooyoung who seemed to be deep in thought. “Then an exorcism is off the table,” he said, sitting back in his chair. “There’s no way around that. If a demon is bound to his soul, there’s no way to save him.”

San elbowed Wooyoung before glancing at you. Giving him a warm smile you spoke softly. “It’s alright,” you said. “I know what needs to be done and I know that it’s not the same Hongjoong. There is no going back. Not that I would want to, anyway.”

You glanced at Yeosang whose expressions softened and he took your hand gently. “So then we must banish the demon,” Jongho stated. It wasn’t a question. The rest of the table nodded in agreement before Yunho turned his head to look at Mingi.

“What can you tell us about witches and their connections to demons?”

Mingi looked surprised at being addressed directly and took a moment to gather his thoughts before speaking.

“Witches are thought to be in league with Satan,” he started, leaning forward and resting his arms on the table before him, his fingers interlaced as he stared at his hands. “But that’s only partially true. Just as there is light and dark in the world, this dichotomy exists in humans and by extension, witches.”

Mingi cleared his throat before continuing.

“There are light witches, those who use their magic and powers for the good of humanity. They tend to draw their powers from nature and the world around them. It is a good and pure form of magic. They use it for growing and healing. Dark witches, on the other hand, draw their power from a darker source, usually from making a deal with a demon or by blood sacrifices. The most common form of sacrifice is that of a child or infant,” he continued.

“But animal sacrifices can also be made in lieu of a human.”

Your eyes widened as he spoke, recalling all the livestock that had been killed prior to Hongjoong’s death and the killings that continued. Whether or not the new ones were the work of the true witch or Hongjoong, you couldn’t be sure.

“The witch will offer a blood sacrifice to a summoned demon in exchange for powers far beyond the natural world. These powers can cause a wide variety of misfortunes should the witch place a curse. Crops can go bad, people can become sick, and demons can be summoned,” Mingi added.

“So Hongjoong was not one of these?” San asked, turning to look at Yeosang who nodded. “He was not,” you answered. “He used his magic for healing and growing. He had gardens that he used his magic on. Or whenever he found a hurt animal, he would heal it. He never consorted with the devil or killed anything unless it was for food.”

San nodded, accepting your answer before returning his attention to Mingi. “So then why would Hongjoong come back as a demon?” he asked. Mingi inhaled slowly before answering. “There are a number of reasons. Perhaps the villagers turning on him was part of the dark witch’s plan. Perhaps a curse was placed to make the villagers do so. If Hongjoong had a curse on him, it would explain why he not only came back but why his soul went to hell and a demon latched onto him. Perhaps…” Mingi trailed off, his focus shifting to you.

The others turned to follow his gaze as your eyes widened in realization.

“It was Hongjoong…” you whispered. Yeosang placed a hand on your back, leaning in closer. “Love? What is it?”

You looked back at Mingi. “It was Hongjoong!” you repeated louder. “Hongjoong was the human sacrifice!”

A look of realization drew over the faces of all six priests. “The witch used the animal sacrifices to create disturbances, turning the villagers against the one they perceived to be a threat to their lives,” Mingi explained sitting up. “The witch used the villagers’ hatred for Hongjoong against him, making them kill him for them to complete some kind of sacrificial ritual.”

San and Wooyoung exchanged looks as Yunho’s lips parted in shock. “And the ritual is now complete,” Jongho said softly as he looked at the table. “But what was the goal?” Yeosang asked, looking around. “What could the witch possibly gain by doing this?”

The wheels in your head were turning and you stood up abruptly, slamming your hands on the table and making a few of the priests jump. “The demon!” you all but shouted. “What if the demon is one the dark witch made a pact with?” Mingi’s eyes narrowed, brows knitting together until it clicked for him.

“The demon needed a body,” Mingi said quickly. “They made a pact. The witch would get their powers if they provided a human sacrifice in the form of a human body for them to inhabit! A binding ritual, of course!” Mingi hissed, hitting the table with his fist.

“A binding ritual?” Yeosang asked. “Is there any way to undo that?”

Mingi shook his head. “Not to my knowledge.”

Yunho also shook his head. “No,” he answered. “The only thing that can be done is to banish the demon.” Yeosang nodded, taking your hand without giving you a glance. “And how do we do that?” he asked.

“With a demon who has inhabited the body of a dead person, there’s only one way,” Yunho explained. “Bind the body of the possessed with a ritual, perform a banishing ritual and —” he stopped, turning his gaze towards you. “And removing the head of the possessed.”

You didn’t need to look up to know that all eyes were on you. “But before we get to any of that,” Wooyoung interjected. “We must first draw him out.” San nodded as his partner spoke. “And exactly how do we do that?” Yeosang asked, looking from San to Wooyoung.

“By offering the demon the thing it wants most,” Yunho answered.

You looked up, noticing the eyes that fell on you once more. 

“No.”

You turned to look at Yeosang who was shaking his head. “Absolutely not. We’re not using my wife as bait.”

You turned your body to face him and reached out to place your hand on his cheek, turning his head to face you. “We don’t have a choice,” you told him. “If we’re going to save the people of this village, we have to do this.”

“No!” Yeosang shouted, pushing his chair back and getting up from the table. You threw an apologetic glance at the table and got up, following Yeosang to the kitchen, shutting the door behind you. He stood by the hearth, one hand covering his mouth as he stared at the fire.

You approached him slowly, taking note of the way he tried to hide his face from you. “Yeosang,” you said softly, placing a hand on his arm. He shook his head, turning away from you. “No,” he said, his voice breaking. You grabbed his arm and turned him to face you.

His eyes were shining with unshed tears. “I’m not putting you in danger,” he finally said, shaking his head. You took his face in your hands and held him still. “If we don’t do something, the village will be in danger. Hongjoong will not stop until he’s killed or has killed me.”

Yeosang pulled you closer. “I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered. You pulled him into a tight embrace. “I know it’s terrifying,” you said in a soft, soothing voice. “But with six priests protecting me, I think I’ll be alright.”

Yeosang tightened his hold, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. “I can’t lose you,” he whispered, his voice muffled. “You won’t,” you replied, stroking his hair gently. “We’re going to overcome this,” you continued. “Hongjoong must be stopped and if this is the only way to do so, I will gladly help.”

Yeosang pulled back, cheeks wet to look at you through watery eyes. “And what if you do die?” he asked. “What then?” You held his face carefully as you looked into his eyes. “Then it will have been to protect the people of this village and you. I can die knowing I tried my best.”

Yeosang’s hands moved, taking your wrists and pulling your hands away from his face. “I couldn’t live with myself if you died,” he said quietly. “I wouldn’t want to live without you.” You pulled a hand free and pressed your fingers to his lips, shushing him gently. “We don’t even know for certain if I’ll die. Let’s talk with the others and I’m sure we can come up with a plan that keeps me safe while also drawing Hongjoong out, okay?”

Yeosang fell silent, cupping the side of your face and rubbing his thumb over the apple of your cheek. “Okay,” he finally said hoarsely. You pulled him into a kiss, taking care to wipe away his tears. “I’m going to be fine, darling,” you said softly.

Yeosang opened his mouth to answer when a distant scream rang out. His expression shifted in an instant and he turned his head in the direction of the scream. “What was that?” you asked softly. Yeosang took your hand and led you back to the living room where the priests had gotten up from the table and walked over to the door.

Mingi opened it and stood in the doorway, peering out into the darkness. Another scream rang out followed by a chorus of yells. “A house is on fire!” he announced, taking off into the night. San, Wooyoung, and Jongho followed as Yunho got up from the table and walked over quickly. 

You followed your husband to the door and as you stared into the distance you realized the house the third from the forest was ablaze. Your heart sank as your stomach churned. “That’s my parents’ house!” you gasped, trying to run out into the night but Yeosang grabbed you and pulled you back into the house. “No!” he said as he shut the door.

You tried to fight against him but he held you still. “Hongjoong could be out there. Stay inside this house and do not come out for anything. I will go.” You tried to protest but he held your face, staring into your eyes. “Please, Y/N. Please just stay here.”

You stared at him for a moment and decided he was right, conceding. “Fine,” you answered. “But please hurry! Make sure my parents are alright!” Yeosang pressed a kiss to your lips before he rushed the door, throwing it open and running outside. You moved to the door, peering out before shutting it and stepping back towards the table.

Footsteps pounded against the ground as Yeosang followed the others towards your parents house. The rest of the village had gathered, some shouting for help while others helped hold people back at a safe distance. Yeosang’s eyes scanned the crowd and relief washed over him as he saw your parents in the crowd, staring up at the house that was now engulfed in flames.

Yeosang squeezed through the crowd as he made his way over. Your mother’s tear stained face turned as he approached and she could only cry softly while your father stared up at the blaze with a dumbfounded look. “Are you alright?” Yeosang asked softly.

Your mother nodded. “We made it out okay,” she admitted. “But…” she looked up at the inferno. “We’ve lost everything.” Yeosang felt his stomach churn. He had an extra room in his house, he could offer it to your parents but he would of course wish to speak to you before he made any decisions as it was as much your house as it was his.

Before he could say anything, one of the neighbors nearby moved, wrapping an arm around your mother’s shoulders. “You are more than welcome to stay with us for the time being. We have plenty of room.” Your mother thanked her profusely and Yeosang sent the woman a knowing look, thanking her silently.

Yeosang turned and walked back to where the priests were huddled, Yunho and Mingi breathing heavily while Wooyoung and San were whispering to one another and Jongho studied the burning house. Yeosang noticed the smears of soot on both Yunho and Mingi, asking what happened.

“The burst into the house,” Jongho answered without taking his eyes off the fire, the dancing flames reflecting in his eyes. “They were able to get your in-law’s out along with some of their important artifacts…” Yunho gave Jongho a peculiar look.

“Artifacts,” he muttered as he stood up straight, waving Mingi away as the latter attempted to brush soot off his clothes, and moved towards Yeosang. “The fire started upstairs,” Yunho said in a low voice. “When we went in, it was just the entire upstairs that was in flames.”

Yeosang looked up at him, eyes wide. “Upstairs?” he whispered. “Seems odd, does it not?” Yunho asked, looking from the fire to Yeosang. “For a fire to start upstairs and move down?” Yeosang nodded, turning to look at the house. “Very odd indeed.”

After the crowd dispersed with only a few remaining behind to make sure the fire didn’t spread, Yeosang walked with the priests back towards the church, bidding them goodnight before returning to his own home.

He turned the knob, exhaustion taking over his mind as he opened the door. He knew you were waiting for news and he would give it to you without hesitation. As he entered, he saw you sitting at the table. You looked up as he entered.

“Are my parents okay?” you asked as Yeosang closed the door behind Yunho and turned to you. “Yes,” he answered. “They’re staying with a neighbor. They’re fine, just in shock.” Yeosang walked over to the table and took a seat, sighing as you sat down next to him.

“What happened?” you inquired. Yeosang raised his head and met your gaze. “I think the demon set fire to your house in an attempt to lure you out,” he said. You stared at him, a look of confusion etched onto your face. “But I don’t live there anymore,” you replied.

Yeosang nodded and sighed again, running his fingers through his hair. “I don’t think he knows that,” he explained. “Hongjoong must have thought you were still at your parents’ house which means he doesn’t know you’ve left or that we’re married.” You fell silent, looking down at the table before back up at your husband.

“You could have easily been in that house,” he continued. “And the moment you left the house to escape the fire, he would have snatched you.” You swallowed thickly. “You cannot let your guard down until he has been dealt with.” You nodded, taking Yeosang’s hand.

“So we will deal with him. Let me join this plan. Yeosang pulled his hand from yours, getting up from his seat, and started to walk towards the kitchen. You got up, following him. “Y/N, no,” he said. “It’s too dangerous.”

You followed him as he entered the bedroom and sat down on the bed to remove his boots. “It will be dangerous for me until he’s gone,” you answered. “Until he is dead, I will always be in danger. What if he learns that I am here? How long until he tries to lure me out of the house and kill me?”

Yeosang looked up at you, exhaustion present on his face. You placed your hand on the back of his head and pulled him closer, resting his head against your stomach. His arms encircled you, holding your close. “What if I’m pregnant?” you whispered.

Yeosang opened his eyes, leaning back to look up at you.

“You think he would spare me? Never. We’re not just doing this for the village,” you continued. “We’re doing this for us. For our future.” You placed a hand on Yeosang’s chest, pushing him back against the mattress as you climbed onto the bed and over him.

“I want a future with you, Yeosang,” you continued, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips. He tried to follow as you pulled back. “I want to have your children,” you added, kissing him again. “But we have to safeguard our future and the only way to do that is to kill the demon.”

Yeosang placed a hand on the back of your neck and pulled you into a much more passionate kiss before rolling you onto your back and pinning you underneath him. “If we do this,” he said once he broke apart from you. “Then you have to promise me that no matter what, you will listen to and do as I say.” You reached up to stroke his cheek, thumb tracing over the red mark near his eye.

“Of course,” you replied. “Promise me, Y/N,” Yeosang said, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, watching as you pressed a delicate kiss to the pad of his thumb. “I promise,” you whispered, looking up at him with expectant eyes. “Say all of it,” Yeosang ordered, his hand sliding down your neck to your chest, pausing before sliding down past your navel and pulling your skirt up slowly.

You stared up at him with wide eyes as his hand ducked under your skirt to find your already slick center. “Say that you will do everything I say.” You let out a small gasp as his fingers started to work your clit slowly.

“I—I will! I will listen to you and do whatever you say,” you replied, thighs spreading as Yeosang’s fingers dipped lower, finding your hole and gliding into you, slowly pumping in and out of you. “I promise!” you concluded, back arching as he curled his fingers.

Yeosang wasted no time, peeling your clothes off one layer at a time until he had you bare under him, removing his own shirt and pants before moving between your hips. He was in no mood for lengthy foreplay as he guided the head of his cock to your aching hole and pushed into you, slowly, until he bottomed out with a deep groan.

Instinctively, your legs wrapped around his waist as he began to rock into you, the tip of his cock hitting deep inside you, your nails scratching at his back as moans slipped past your lips, mixing with Yeosang’s name like a mantra.

“Yeosang, I—” you started but he pressed his fingers against your lips. “It’s okay,” he said breathily. “I know. Just let go for me, sweetheart. Give into it.” Your eyelids fluttered shut as you allowed the feeling of your physical connection take over, a warm sensation building inside you. You felt a prickling in the corners of your eyes as tears threatened to spill.

You opened your eyes, blinking away the tears to look up at your husband only to find him already looking at you, eyes searching your face. He slowed his motions, reaching up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped.

“What is it?” he asked softly. “Have I hurt you?”

You shook your head, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down, burying your face in his neck. “I’m fine,” you sobbed softly. “Please, don’t stop.” Yeosang hesitated, stilling inside you as you cried softly.

Instead of resuming, he held you, arms secure as he let you cry. “It’s all right, love,” he whispered. “Let it out.” Your cries grew harder, muffled by his shoulder as he rolled you both onto your sides and stroked up and down your spine soothingly.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered into your ear. “What’s bothering you?”

You shook your head, pulling back and trying to wipe your tears away but he beat you to it, taking your face in his hands. He carefully wiped your cheeks and under your eyes before leaning in to press a chaste kiss to your lips.

“I’m alright,” you said softly, sniffling. “I was just overwhelmed.”

“Overwhelmed?” Yeosang asked, letting out a soft chuckle when you nodded. “I wasn’t expecting to open my eyes and find you looking at me like that,” you replied. Yeosang stroked your cheek gently, a smile on his face. “Like what?” he asked.

“With so much… Love,” you answered. Yeosang let out another low chuckle before leaning in to kiss you again. “Well, why wouldn’t I look at you like that?” he asked, rolling the two of you over so you were on your back against the mattress.

You opened your mouth to respond but only a moan came out as you felt him push back into you, setting a slow pace that gradually picked up again until he was thrusting into you just as he was before your emotional outburst, leaving you breathless.

“M-more,” you mumbled. “More?” Yeosang asked, breathlessly as he stared down at you. You nodded quickly. “I can take it. H-harder.” Yeosang let out a sound that you could have mistaken for a laugh but all the same, he obliged you, thrusting into you hard but at the same pace as before.

Your walls contracted around him as your moans raised in pitch, bordering on cries of pleasure. Yeosang slid an arm under you, cradling your head as he rested his forehead against yours. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep going,” he admitted.

You moved quickly, pushing him as you rolled him over, settling on top of him without his cock slipping out of you. You took over, keeping the same pace as his hands moved to your thighs. You resisted the urge to giggle as Yeosang let out a string of curses as your hips rose and fell, his cock sinking into your cunt repeatedly.

“That’s not very becoming of a priest,” you joked, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek. You felt one of his hands move up your back before grabbing the back of your neck. “I don’t fucking care,” he hissed, pulling you in for a passionate but sloppy kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth and muffling his own moans of pleasure.

You broke the kiss after a moment, needing to breathe, and rested your forehead against his as he grabbed your hips, thrusting up to meet you, matching your pace. The sudden intense movement had you gasping, fingers curling into the sheets under your husband as your climax drew closer and closer, rapidly

You felt him tremble under you, signaling he was close to his own climax. Your walls fluttered around him as he let out another slew of curses, ranging from “oh fuck” and “shit.” Praises slipped out of his mouth between moans of your name. Your head rested against his shoulder, letting him take over and guide your hips down to meet his as he thrust into you passionately. 

“Oh fuck, I love you,” he gasped, his voice barely audible over the sound of his skin slapping against yours, the bed creaking under your bodies. His confession spurred you on, pushing you over the edge of passion and you came unexpectedly with a whine, fingers curling into his hair as his hips continued to move, driving his cock repeatedly into you as he chased his own high. “I love you, too,” you panted, pulling back to look down at him, meeting his gaze. “So, so much,” you added.

Yeosang’s eyes fluttered shut as his orgasm rolled over him, his hot cum filling you as his hips thrusted a few more times, making sure he emptied everything into you. “I love you so much, Yeosang,” you repeated, pulling him into a messy kiss, your tongues dancing together. He pulled back slightly, caressing your cheek. “I love you more than all the stars in the sky,” he whispered. You felt a small sob build in your chest but held it back.

“I have never loved anyone as much as I love you,” Yeosang continued. “I will never love anyone as much as I love you. You’re my entire world.” You leaned down into a hug, burying your face in his shoulder and let out a soft cry. 

Yeosang rolled onto his side, lowering you to the mattress. “Hey,” he said softly. “Don’t cry,” Yeosang whispered, gently lifting your head. “They’re not tears of sadness,” you admitted as he wiped said tears from your cheeks. “They’re tears of—”

“Joy?” Yeosang asked, his expression softening as he caressed your cheek. You nodded, leaning into his touch. “When you saved my life,” you started. “And stayed with me while I was on the brink of death, I realized something,” you said softly.

“What?” Yeosang asked, eyes studying your face. You looked up to meet his gaze. “That I’ve loved you for some time,” you replied. “I just didn’t realize it because I was so deeply connected to Hongjoong but there was always love in my heart for you.”

Yeosang couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face. “It just took me almost dying to see it,” you added with a dry laugh. “I have a confession of my own to make,” Yeosang said softly, drawing your attention as he continued to stroke your cheek.

“I’ve loved you since before everything that has happened. Since…” he trailed off, hesitating under your curious gaze. He swallowed the lump in his throat before continuing. “Since before Hongjoong’s death.”

A silence fell over the two of you and Yeosang feared he might have crossed a line but when you reached up to run your fingers through his hair, a smile crept onto your face. “I guess that makes two of us, then,” you whispered.

The following morning, you woke up early, getting dressed in silence as Yeosang lay tangled in the sheets. You exited the bedroom, shutting the door behind you and started to get started, making breakfast. After last night, you didn’t feel like going out to gather eggs or cook anything that would take too much time. You would rather just make something simple and get started on the day.

Today, Yeosang and the visiting priests were going to inform the village of the truth about the demon and Hongjoong’s return. The entire village was already aware of the demon’s existence but none knew that it was Hongjoong.

You heard the door behind you open and soft footsteps make their way towards you until you felt arms enveloping you as Yeosang wrapped you in his warm embrace. “I thought we might sleep in,” he murmured in your ear before pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“I woke up and couldn’t fall back asleep,” you admitted as you stirred the contents of the pot. “So I thought I would just get up and start the day.” Yeosang hummed as he slowly started to sway, making you sway as well.

You placed a hand over your stomach as a nauseous feeling bubbled up. Yeosang noticed, placing his hand over yours. “Have you checked the seeds?” he asked softly to which you shook your head. “I’ve had more pressing matters,” you replied.

Yeosang pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “I’ll go check,” he whispered, pulling away and taking with him the warmth. You heard him move through the house, the front door opening and closing. In truth, you hadn’t wanted to check the seeds, for fear that one of them was growing which would mean you were pregnant and that was something you didn’t need at the moment.

You had enough going on.

Yeosang returned a couple moments later, shutting the door slowly and walked into the kitchen, stopping to lean against the doorframe, a look of shock on his face. You looked back at him, your expression morphing as you feared the worst. “What is it?” you asked.

Yeosang looked up to meet your gaze. The look in his eyes was all you needed to see for your heart to sink into your stomach. “No,” you whispered. Yeosang looked down and it was then you realized he had something in his hand. “What is that?” you whispered. He stood up straight and walked over, something clenched in his fist.

He looked up at you, a look somewhere between an apology and concern etched onto his face. “I know this is the last thing you need, but…” he said as he held out his closed fist. Your eyes traveled down to his hand as he opened it. Lying in his palm was a small seed with a tiny stalk sprouting from it.

Your mother’s voice popped into your head. ‘If the barley seeds sprout then it will be a boy. If the wheat seeds sprout, then you’ll be having a girl.’ You shook your head, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you looked up to meet Yeosang’s gaze.

“No. We… this can’t be happening…” you said, your breathing bordering on hyperventilating. Yeosang set the sprout onto the table and pulled you into a hug. “It’s going to be alright,” he said softly. “We’ll figure this out. I know the timing is wrong,” he continued. “But everything happens for a reason.”

You nodded slowly, letting out a sigh. “Look at me,” Yeosang said softly, tilting your head up. “We’ll face the things in front of us and once we’ve dealt with it, how about we leave? Go somewhere new and start over?” he asked. A small smile crept over your face.

“Really?” you asked quietly. Yeosang nodded, pressing a short kiss to your lips. “Of course,” he replied. “We can go anywhere you want. Another village, a larger town, the mountains, the sea,” he said, listing off different locations. “Wherever you want, my love, that’s where we’ll go. Start a new life for us and for them,” he added, moving a hand to your belly.

“For us.”

After finishing breakfast and getting dressed, you left the house with Yeosang, heading for the church to attend the meeting. Upon entering, you followed Yeosang to the front where the rest of the priests were already sitting, talking amongst themselves. As you approached, San and Wooyoung gave you warm smiles and greeted you.

Yeosang guided you to sit next to Yunho, leaving one seat for him. Instead of taking it right away, he excused himself to go find Jonas. “You look different this morning,” Yunho said softly. You turned to look at him and noticed the others looking at you.

“Do I?” you asked to which not only Yunho nodded, but so did Wooyoung, San, and Mingi. “Much different,” San noted as he exchanged a glance with Wooyoung. You hesitated to answer, wondering if they could tell the difference was due to you finding out about the child you were carrying.

Before you could answer, Yeosang returned with Jonas. Your husband gave you a smile as he followed the elder minister to the doors to open them and allow the villagers in. While Yeosang was preoccupied, Yunho glanced at the others before turning to you and lowering his voice. “It’s a good type of different,” he whispered before leaning up and giving you a smile before turning to speak to San next to him as the rows behind you filled with villagers.

Yeosang returned, taking his seat beside you and took your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. You pulled your hand from his, locking your arm with his instead, giving you a sense of stability as you leaned into his side. Yeosang made no attempt to move for sake of propriety. He did not care what the others thought. All that mattered to him was your happiness and safety.

The villagers could think what they liked. You were his wife.

As the villagers took their seats, you looked around, noticing your parents a few rows back and sent them a smile, one they returned. Despite everything that had happened to them, you were glad they were still alive and safe.

The doors at the front of the church closed and Jonas walked down the middle aisle towards the stage, nodding at the members as he passed before he finally reached the pulpit and turned to face the congregation.

“I’ve called this meeting because Pastor Kang has requested to be able to speak with all of you on an urgent matter related to the demon plaguing our village,” he started. He turned his gaze to Yeosang and nodded, stepping down. Your husband stood up and you wrapped your arms around yourself as he walked up, stepping up to the pulpit.

“As you all already know, a demon has been terrorizing the village since the death of Hongjoong,” he started, ignoring the hisses at the mention of the name. “You might also be aware that I sent word to neighboring villages, asking for the help from their clergy and as a result, five priests have come to help conduct an investigation as well as potentially help banish the demon.” 

Yeosang stopped, looking towards the front row as whispers rang out behind you. “We have come to learn after carefully investigating that the demon who haunts our village is Hongjoong, returned from the grave.”

There were several gasps and a new rush of whispers before Yeosang called for attention. “To explain further, I invite Pastor Jeong up here. He has experience with banishing demons and investigating their origins,” Yeosang said, gesturing at Yunho seat beside you. Yunho got up as Yeosang stepped down and returned to his seat.

Yunho took his place and murmured a greeting before starting his explanation.

“When Hongjoong was killed, his soul was sent to Hell,” he started. “Because he was a witch!” someone said and Yunho narrowed his eyes at the person who spoke. “No,” Yunho replied. “Not because he was a witch,” he continued. “But because the real witch made a deal with a demon in exchange for power.”

The congregation fell silent as Yunho’s words hung in the air. “I do not presume to know everything there was to know about Hongjoong, only what I’ve been told by someone who knew him very, very well,” he added, eyes glancing at you and giving you a warm smile.

“Nor do I pretend to know anything about witches or witchcraft as that is not my area of expertise and I will let Pastor Song speak on that in due time,” he continued. “What I know is that the demon the witch made a deal with was offered Hongjoong as a sacrifice and it took that. When Hongjoong was killed, the pact forced his soul to Hell where the demon latched onto him and came back to inhabit his body. This was the demon’s goal. It wanted a human body to inhabit so it could walk this Earth.”

You felt a chill run up your spine and shivered. Yeosang immediately wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer. “The only reason Hongjoong’s soul was allowed to even return in the first place is because of something known as a witch’s box. Again this is not my area of knowledge and I will let Mingi explain when it is his turn to speak, but what I do know is that by creating one of these boxes, it connects a witch’s soul to the earth so if they were to die by accident, they could come back. It is a means to cheat death, so to speak.”

“The demon took advantage of this, which was probably communicated by the real culprit who summoned the demon,” Yunho pressed on. “We believe that there is another witch, the one responsible for the misfortunes that have befallen your village. This witch made a deal with a demon in exchange for more power and offered Hongjoong’s soul and body in exchange of their own, since they likely knew Hongjoong was also a witch.” 

“Who is the other witch?” a voice called out. “We do not know,” Yunho answered. “We don’t have that information yet.” This answer caused an uproar of discourse from the congregation. “How can you not know?!” one person shouted. Yunho looked overwhelmed by the sudden chorus of questions being hurled at him.

Yeosang stood up and turned to the crowd. “Dealing with the demon is much more important than dealing with the witch,” he said earnestly. “In time, we will uncover the true identity of this witch and see that they are brought to justice for their actions,” Yeosang said calmly.

“Who’s the witch!?”

“It could be any one of us!”

“It’s Y/N!”

Your eyes widened and you looked up at Yeosang in a panic as a look of pure anger crossed over his face. Before he could say anything, Jongho stood up, crossing to the pulpit, and motioned for Yunho to step down before stepping up.

“Pointing blame without any evidence to back up your claim will not only not help, but it will paint you as suspicious,” he sat calmly and clearly in a voice you had not expected to come from him. “Y/N is being actively pursued by the demon as it wants to kill her. She cannot possibly be the other witch. One more outburst of the sort and I will start taking names for a list of suspects.”

He then stepped down and returned to his seat as Yunho stepped up once more. Yeosang turned his gaze to Jongho and the two shared a look of understanding before he sat back down beside you, taking your arm in his as Yunho continued.

“As I was saying,” he started. “And as Pastor Kang has stated, we must deal with the demon first. This concludes what I know and I will now pass the torch, so to speak, to Pastor Song.” Yunho stepped down and walked back to his seat between you and San as Mingi got up and walked to the pulpit.

You watched as he paused briefly, looking at Jonas sitting against the back wall. He tilted his head as if he was studying the elder minister for a moment before he finally turned and stepped up into the pulpit to speak.

“Witchcraft,” he started. “Is not at all what you think it is. There are many types of magic in this world. The witchcraft of this witch that has been plaguing your village is what is known as dark magic. It is used to harm nature and people. It relies on blood sacrifices to work. Most dark witches use these sacrifices to make deals with demons in exchange for more power.”

“Light witches on the other hand,” he continued. “Rely on the natural world to create magic. They use their powers to heal and grow things. Which means,” Mingi said, pausing to look around at the villagers. “You killed the wrong witch.”

There was a silence that fell over the congregations before Mingi continued to speak.

“Hongjoong was a light witch, using his magic for good and the dark witch took advantage of this to use him as a bargaining chip to gain powers from the demonic entity that now inhabits Hongjoong’s body,” he added, taking his spectacles off. 

“This dark witch used smaller animal sacrifices to create curses and disturbances within the village, turning you all against Hongjoong so you might eventually rise up and make him pay for the crimes you perceived as his. By killing Hongjoong, you completed the human sacrifice necessary for the dark witch’s deal to work. Giving the demon what it wanted and by extension, giving the witch what they wanted.”

He fell silent as he turned to look back at Jonas. You couldn’t understand the look between them but the way Jonas looked at Mingi made you feel uncomfortable, almost as if he was… mad at him for what he was saying. Jonas looked past Mingi, meeting your gaze and for the briefest moment, you could have sworn his eyes changed.

You let out the smallest of gasps, barely even audible but Yeosang heard you, as did Yunho. Your husband turned, leaning over to look at your face. “Love?” he whispered. “Are you alright?” You nodded slowly, eyes wide as you continued to hold Jonas’ gaze, afraid if you looked away, you would forget everything.

Jonas was the first to look away as Mingi stepped back, apparently having been done speaking. Next up was San and Wooyoung. Mingi returned to his seat beside Jongho and you kept your eyes on Jonas as the priest and demon hunter spoke, laying out their plans to lure the demon in, using you as bait.

Your attention waned as you stared at the elder minister, waiting to see if his eyes changed again but they did not and he did not look your direction again for the rest of the meeting. As San and Wooyoung wrapped up their part, several members of the congregation started asking questions. Yeosang stood up, joining San, Wooyoung, and Mingi on stage with Jongo with Yunho staying glued to your side. While they answered questions, Yunho leaned over.

“You saw something, didn’t you?” he asked softly so no one would hear. You nodded, keeping your eyes on Yeosang. “I think we saw the same thing,” Yunho continued. “We’ll talk about it after the meeting.”

As the questions wrapped up, the meeting ended and Jonas addressed the congregation one last time before dismissing them. The doors to outside opened as the priests returned to the bench you currently sat on, Yunho standing up. You stared at Jonas whose gaze swept over the crowd before finally meeting yours.

The moment your eyes locked, a wave of fear washed over you. Having been standing, waiting to exit the church, your knees went weak, legs giving out on you and you fell back onto your seat, letting out a gasp.

“Y/N?” Yeosang asked, worry laced in his voice. “What is it, love?” he asked. Your vision went unfocused as you tried to gain control of your breathing which had become rapid and unsteady. “Y/N?” Yunho asked, kneeling down before you. You felt one of his large hands take yours. “What is it?” he asked. “What do you see?”

“See?” Yeosang asked, his voice sounding far away. Within the blackness of your vision, you could see images of a hidden altar, line with animal bones and skulls. Blood stained the wood and a ceremonial knife sat nearby. Behind the altar, a hooded figure stood before a ring of candles on the floor, blood smeared in the middle into a crude sigil you’ve never seen before.

As the vision came, it went and your own vision returned, Yunho’s face coming back into view. “What did you see?” he asked softly. You looked up, searching for Jonas as he disappeared into the back hallway, the door shutting softly behind him. “I—” you hesitated. “I don’t…”

“Are you alright, love?” Yeosang asked, kneeling beside Yunho to look up at you, his face full of concern as he reached up to feel your cheek. “Air,” you gasped. “I need air.”

Yeosang stood up quickly, as did Yunho and they led you through the crowded church as more people spoke, trying to make sense of the information given to them. Outside only a few members had managed to make it down the steps. As Yeosang led the way to the door, the sky darkened. He looked up as he started down the steps. His eyes widened. Outside the church, littering the ground and amassed into a pile were what looked to be hundreds of corpses of crows.

Stand atop them was—

“It’s Hongjoong!” one person announced, turning tail and heading back into the church as others started to follow. Yeosang stood firm, blocking you from sight as the other priests also joined the line in front of the church. Hongjoong’s appearance had changed slightly. His hair was a little longer now and a slightly different color. Lighter now.

The horns protruding from his forehead had grown longer, starting to curve back over his head almost like a goats. His eyes were the same black with fiery, mismatched irises. He smiled a wicked smile, showing off his sharp canines as he hopped down from the pile of dead birds.

“Holding a village meeting without the guest of honor?” he asked as he approached Yeosang, a hint of amusement in his voice. He gestured at the other priests. “And I see you’ve already invited the entertainment,” he added with a chuckle.

“I take it this is the demon?” Yunho asked, turning his head to glance at Yeosang who nodded. Hongjoong looked up at Yunho. “Oh you’re a big one,” he said as he sauntered over. “Might be a little hard to digest,” he joked. As he turned, his eyes met yours and froze, the smile on his face widening. “Ah, there she is,” he said.

The priests closed in around you, shielding you from Hongjoong, making him look at them peculiarly. “Gentlemen, gentlemen,” he said, chuckling. “Relax,” I’m not about to try and kill her in front of an audience,” he added with a snicker as he started to walk in front of Yeosang and peered around at you from the other side. “As fun as it would be.”

“I tried to visit you,” he said, chuckling. “But you weren’t home. I even tried to… smoke you out,” he added with a chuckle. You felt your blood run cold but anger bubbled up inside you. You tried to step forward but Yunho grabbed your arm, keeping you still.

“You almost killed my parents!” you shouted angrily. Hongjoong made a mock look of sympathy. “Awww,” he cooed. “How unfortunate. I meant to kill them.” You tried again to lurch forward, all love you had felt for Hongjoong evaporating in an instant. “No, Y/N,” San whispered from beside you. “That’s what he wants.”

“Why weren’t you at your parents’ house, Y/N?” Hongjoong asked, drawing your attention away from the demon hunter. “Because I don’t live there anymore,” you answered simply. “I was with Yeosang.” Hongjoong’s eyes studied you as his smile fell, being replaced with a look of curiosity. His eyes shifted to look at Yeosang before he glanced down and noticed something, clicking his tongue before he looked up to look at you.

“I see. You married him.” It wasn’t a question. It was more of an accusation. “After everything you promised me?” Hongjoong asked. You resisted the urge to scoff, knowing it would probably just anger him. “Aren’t you trying to kill me?” you asked, changing the subject.

Hongjoong sighed. “Now why would I want to kill you?” he asked. “Why would I want to kill my guiding star? My little… Starlight?” A chill ran up your spine. “Don’t call me that,” you snapped. Hongjoong laughed loudly. “Why not? Strike a nerve?” he asked. “Does it remind you of our love?”

“Love?” you asked. “You died, remember? The rope snapped your neck. The Hongjoong I knew and loved died that day.” The demon chuckled again. “The rope didn’t snap my neck, Stella,” Hongjoong said, using another nickname. “I said don’t call me that,” you snapped.

He ignored your words and continued. “He suffocated,” the demon said, its voice masking Hongjoong’s. “He hung from that branch, struggling and kicking for minutes as he was strangled. Until the breath left his lungs and the life left his weak, defenseless body!” Yeosang moved to block you from sight.

“Stop it,” he said. Hongjoong glared at Yeosang before he spoke again. “You want to know what his dying thought was?” he asked, raising his voice slightly. Yeosang glared back at the demon. “Don’t,” he warned. “It was of you,” Hongjoong said. “Of the night you gave yourself to him for the first time.” San started forward but Jongho put a hand on his chest, pushing him back in line.

“That was a night he thought about often,” the demon continued. “He loved you so much. And this is how you repay his love?” it asked, looking at Yeosang. “By marrying this… priest?” he spat. Hongjoong peered around Yeosang to meet your gaze, noticing the tears in your eyes. “I’ve thought about it, Y/N,” he started. “Long and hard and I’ve decided something.”

He glanced at the sky before speaking. “I don’t want to kill you,” he explained. “I’ve changed my mind. Instead, I want you.” A shiver ran through your body at his words. “For what?” Yunho asked, drawing the demon’s attention briefly. “For myself of course. I’d like to keep such a succulent little morsel like her nearby. So I can ravage her whenever I want —”

“You will not touch her!” Yeosang interjected as you pressed into his back, hiding from view. Hongjoong let out a sigh. “Tell you what, Y/N,” he said, raising his voice. “I will give you three days. Three days to come to me on your own,” he continued. You felt Yeosang’s hand grab yours, giving you a reassuring squeeze.

You peeked over Yeosang’s shoulder to watch as Hongjoong walked back to the pile of birds, climbing up to the peak and turning around to face the church. “And if in three days, you still haven’t come to me, I will kill every single man, woman, and child in this village,” he added, ignoring the gasps of the villagers.

“Starting with your new husband.”

Your knees threatened to give out as Hongjoong vanished in a cloud of black mist. The sound returned to the area and immediately the villagers started to protest. “Get her home,” Yunho said in a low tone to Yeosang and the priests attempted to hold the crowd back as they demanded to hand you over to Hongjoong. Yeosang wrapped an arm around you, guiding you away from the church and back to the house with San and Wooyoung in tow for additional protection.

For a brief moment, you considered doing it but Yeosang reminded you of the plan already set in motion and that the demon would most likely kill you anyway.

“I’m not leaving the fate of my wife and unborn child up to fate,” Yeosang said as Yunho finally filed into the house behind Mingi and Jongho. “You’re pregnant?” San asked, turning quickly to look at you. You glanced at your husband briefly before nodding. “We just found out this morning before the meeting,” you admitted.

“I knew there was something different about you,” Yunho said as he moved to sit beside you. 

“So,” San asked, turning to look at Yeosang. “What’s the plan? Do we proceed?”

“Yes, of course we proceed,” Jongho interrupted. “We don’t know what else the witch promised the demon in exchange for power and they could demand more sacrifices for more power, we can’t be too careful. The demon must be stopped.”

There was a murmur of agreement and you let out a sigh, reaching up to pinch the bridge of your nose, your vision swimming again. “Y/N?” Yeosang asked, moving to kneel before you. “Are you alright, sweetheart?” he asked.

You felt the urge to vomit but managed to push it down. “I’m okay,” you whispered. “I’m just tired.” Yeosang cupped your cheek. “She should probably rest,” Yunho offered. “Lie down for a bit.” Yeosang nodded and stood up, holding out his hand. You took it, thanking him and saying a brief farewell to the others as Yeosang led you through the house to the bedroom.

He shut the door and walked you over to the bed, sitting you down and moving to untie your boots and remove them. “Here,” he said softly, pulling the covers back and helping you lie back before pulling the covers back over you.

“We’ll be right outside,” he said softly. “If you need anything, just call for me,” he added. “Don’t worry about dinner. I’ll make it tonight.”

Sleep came quickly for you the moment he left and shut the door behind him, leaving you to a restless slumber full of nightmares.

—————————————————————

The following morning you woke up, wrapped in Yeosang’s arms, the blankets pulled up around the both of you. Blinking sleepily, you started to settle back into a slumber, wondering when he had come to bed the night before when a sour feeling in your stomach started to bubble up. You knew the feeling all too well and were awake in an instant.

You scrambled to get up, waking Yeosang in the process as you hurried to get out of his hold and the blankets without falling. “What’s wrong?” Yeosang grumbled as you ran for the door, throwing it open and running to the front door. 

You managed to get it open, stepping out into the cool dawn, frost crunching under your bare feet as you ran to the outhouse, throwing open the door just in time to retch and violently throw up into the bowl.

Moments later, you heard footsteps and a sigh as you continued to spit up. After you felt you were finished, your stomach finally settling, you sat back, groaning as tears burned the corner of your eyes. You felt something warm drape around your shoulders.

“It’s alright,” you heard Yeosang whisper as he gently rubbed your arms. “Let’s get you back inside.” You allowed him to help you up and guide you back inside, ignoring the freezing cold ground under your feet. Once inside, Yeosang guided you back to the bedroom and sat you down, kneeling to wipe the bottom of your now wet feet before guiding you back to lay down.

Yeosang brought a cup to your mouth. “Here,” he said softly. “Rinse and spit. I know if you don’t you’ll wake up and complain about the taste,” he added as you obeyed, taking a sip of the water and swishing it around your mouth before spitting it back into the cup. “Well done,” he complimented as he stood up, grabbing the sheets.

“I’m fine,” you promised as he pulled the blankets up. “I know,” he replied. “It’s the baby,” he added as he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll heat up something for you to eat,” he whispered before you heard his footsteps take him away and the bedroom door shut.

You must have fallen back asleep because soon, Yeosang was shaking you awake. “It’s time to get up, love,” he whispered. “You need to eat and get dressed. We have a long day ahead of us.” You whined in protest, making him chuckle as he leaned down and pressed another kiss to your forehead. “Let’s get this done. Then we can come back here and sleep all night and all day tomorrow,” he said. “Sound good?”

You opened your eyes slowly, meeting his gaze and hummed in approval. “I really won the prize by marrying you, didn’t I?” you asked, your voice sounding groggy. Yeosang let out a loud laugh, shaking his head before he cupped your cheek.

“I think it was I who won, my dear,” he replied. “Now come,” he said as he got up. “Get dressed and let’s eat.” You sat up slowly as he retreated, shutting the door behind him. Pulling back the covers, you shivered slightly as you pulled off your nightgown and started to dress.

Once your clothes were on, including your boots, you exited the bedroom to find Yeosang at the hearth, checking the contents of a pot. “We have company,” he said softly as you walked over. You peered through the doorway to find Jonas sitting at the table which had not been moved from the living room back to the kitchen yet.

You walked over to where your husband stood. “What’s he doing here?” you asked under your breath. “He’s come to congratulate you on your journey to motherhood,” Yeosang whispered. You glanced towards the doorway before turning to Yeosang, clearing your throat.

“Yeosang, I don’t want to speak to him,” you started as Yeosang set the spoon in his hands down and took your face in his hands. “I know,” he replied. “I spoke with Yunho and he told me what you both saw,” Yeosang whispered. “But let’s not talk about that now,” he continued. “We’ll go out there together.”

He took your hand and guided you towards the door, entering the room with you in tow. Jonas sat at the table, looking out the window but as soon as the two of you entered, he turned his head, offering a smile. It looked pleasant enough but after what you’d seen, you felt it was out of place and chilling. Yeosang sat you down one seat away from Jonas, taking the seat between you as a sort of shield.

“News has spread of your addition to the village,” Jonas started, looking past Yeosang and directly at you. You glanced at Yeosang who nodded, speaking for you. “Yes,” he said. “It comes as a shock to us,” Yeosang said in a polite voice. “A shock?” Jonas asked, taking his eyes off you momentarily to look at Yeosang. You felt relief for a moment.

“I’m sure as newlyweds, you’ve been very…” he trailed off, his eyes wandering back to you. “Vigorous in your new couple activities.” His words sent a chill up your spine, the sour feeling back in your stomach. You could feel the bile rising up.

“Oh, uh,” Yeosang’s words failed him as he tried to think of some sort of response. “Well, I suppose,” he tried again but faltered, glancing at you. “Pastor Kang, could I have a word with your lovely wife. I could use a glass of ale. I’m quite thirsty and in her delicate condition, I’m sure she should be resting right now. Especially when you have such a big night ahead of you.” Yeosang hesitated, glancing at you.

Words failed him again and reluctantly, he got up, walking into the kitchen. The moment he was gone, you tried to get up, the sour feeling rising in your stomach, but Jonas grabbed your wrist, holding you down as he leaned forward to speak.

“If you think you saw something in the church yesterday,” he started, his grip on your wrist starting to hurt. “Then you are gravely mistaken, indeed. It was a trick of the light. Something conjured by that fanciful imagination of yours. But what you saw was nothing, am I understood?” he asked in a low voice.

You tried to pull away from him, the contents of your stomach threatening to spill any moment. You heard a door opened quickly and you turned to see Yunho walk in from the spare bedroom, making a beeline for Jonas who quickly let go of you, clearly not expecting to be interrupted. Yunho towered over the man as he sat back in his chair.

“If you ever lay a hand on her again,” Yunho started, not bothering to keep his voice down, drawing Yeosang out of the kitchen in a hurry. “I will not hesitate to expose you for what you are, snake,” Yunho continued. Jonas stared up at Yunho with a murderous rage.

“Please make sure our guest leaves, Yunho,” Yeosang said as he moved to your side, grabbing your wrist to inspect the marks of irritation that had started to form. Yunho made to grab Jonas by the jacket but he slapped the larger man’s hand away.

“Don’t touch me, you fool,” Jonas hissed at Yunho who narrowed his eyes. Quick as a snake, Yunho’s hand closed around Jonas’ throat and he pulled him up. Jonas choked and struggled against Yunho’s grip. “You will leave this village or I will expose you and leave you to the villagers’ wrath,” he said as he turned the knob for the door before shoving Jonas out.

Yunho glared at the elder minister as Yeosang checked your face. “Are you feeling alright?” he asked. You shook your head. “I feel sick,” you moaned. You heard the door slam shut and turned your head to see Jonas marching back towards the church.

“What about the other priests?” you asked, looking up as Yunho moved to sit across from you. “They stayed with other families last night,” Yeosang explained, inspecting your face once more. “Turns out all the protective charms that Jonas made weren’t protecting anyone,” he explained. You turned your gaze to Yunho. “We discussed this yesterday while you were sleeping,” Yunho said, looking at Yeosang. “But we believe Jonas is the witch,” he continued.

“Or at the very least, aiding them,” Yeosang interjected. Yunho let out a dry laugh. “I know you want to believe in him, Yeosang,” he started. “But you didn’t see what I saw. Or what she saw,” he added, nodding towards you. “Ask her.”

Yeosang turned his head to look at you. “It’s true, his eyes—”

“No,” Yunho said, shaking his head. “Not his eyes. The vision.” You stared at him as it came back to you. “W-what vision?” you stammered. Yunho leaned forward, looking into your eyes. “I know you saw it,” he said, ignoring the way you shook your head in denial.

“Because I saw it, too. Last night. The witch, the altar, the summoning circle. All of it,” Yunho explained. “Everything makes sense now. It was all Jonas’ doing.” Looking at your husband, you could tell he was at a loss for words. He wanted to believe his mentor was incapable of such atrocities but you knew what you felt when you looked at Jonas yesterday and again today when he touched you.

Jonas was the witch. The one responsible for everything. 

“What are you doing? We need to warn people!” Yunho smiled, shaking his head as he looked down at the table. “We’ve already done that,” he answered. Yeosang turned to look at Yunho. “What?” he asked. Yunho looked up. “The church is being searched now by the villagers. I instructed Jongho, Mingi, San, and Wooyoung to mention something to the families they were staying with in passing. Of course, it might have taken some persuasion,” Yunho continued, shrugging his shoulder

“But at this time, I imagine the villagers are conducting a very thorough search of the church and Jonas’ room,” he concluded. He looked up to meet your gaze. “He will be forced to run and when we banish the demon tonight, he will lose his powers and won’t be able to hurt anyone else,” he added. A small smile spread across your face.

Yeosang sighed, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth before he finally relented. “Alright,” he said. “So we’re still going through with the plan?” Yeosang asked and Yunho nodded. “Of course,” Yunho answered, turning to look out the window. You followed his gaze in time to see a mob of villagers exit the church, dragging Jonas out with them. You turned away from the window, meeting Yunho’s eyes. “This village’s trouble ends,” he said softly.

“Tonight.”

As the sun began to sink lower in the sky, the plan was set into motion. You took a lantern, intent on leaving to head into the woods. Yeosang pulled you into a very tight embrace before kissing you. “Please be safe,” he said softly. “I’ll see you at the stream.”

You leaned forward, resting your forehead against his, taking one of his hands and placing it over your stomach. “Us. You will see us at the stream,” you replied, correcting him. Yeosang let out a small huff that sounded like a mix between a laugh and a cry. He cupped your cheek and nodded. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too,” you replied as you pulled back. “Alright, Y/N,” Wooyoung said as you raised your hood. “It’s important that you guide him to stand in exactly the right spot,” he explained. “I know, Wooyoung,” you said softly, giving him a smile. “I know the mark.”

San gave you a smile as you turned to him. “If he tries to grab you, tie this to his wrist. It’ll hurt him enough to let go of you and you should be able to run away. We won’t be far,” he said, handing you a small garland. You tucked it away, thanking him.

“I’ll be fine,” you said as you looked around at them. The village was empty save for the priests and yourself. You were ready to play your part in the trap and the villagers had agreed to stay out of the way, keeping inside their homes with new protective charms over the doors and windows of their homes.

After another round of farewells, you headed for the woods, walking over the yellowed grass and dirt. You hadn’t been into the forest since Hongjoong chased you out and so going back felt intimidating. You’d never been afraid of the forest before but now you had a very real reason to fear it which had once been the reason you loved it.

Yeosang watched as you stepped into the forest, disappearing into the trees quickly and let out a soft sob. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to find Yunho standing beside him, looking to the forest where you had just disappeared. “It’s going to be alright,” Yunho said reassuringly. “She’s going to be alright.”

“Come,” Mingi said, turning to look at the others. “We have work to do.”

The sun was low enough it was filtering through the trees, elongating the shadows and bathing everything in a golden glow.

‘Golden hour,’ you thought as you walked through the woods, making your way to the cabin. Hongjoong rarely showed himself when the sun was out and so it felt like this was the best time to go into the forest and find his witch box.

Instead of following the path, you tread over the broken branches and fallen logs that littered the forest floor knowing it would get you to the cabin much faster. As you trudged further into the forest, you felt less and less safe. A stark contrast to how you used to feel.

You reached the cabin in no time and saw before you a scene you hadn’t been prepared for. The goats that once greeted you were lying in a pile in their shed, blood and feathers bathed the garden as you stepped over the mess and carefully pushed open the cabin door.

Inside the cabin was a mess. Furniture had been thrown around, destroyed and splintered wood littered the floor. There was blood all over the door and walls and feathers all over the floor. You walked further into the cabin and found the hidden panel. Pushing it open, you knelt down and peered in, finding it empty. 

You crawled into the small space, setting your lantern down and producing a small trowel. Looking around for any sort of marked spot, you found a small symbol carved in the wood of the cabin. Taking the trowel, you started digging under the spot for a few minutes until the tip of your trowel hit something. You unearthed a small wooden box and grabbed the lantern.

Carefully, you dusted the top off and found the carving in the top matched the amulet Hongjoong used to wear. You carefully opened it and found what looked to be a lot of small trinkets. You closed it, knowing you couldn’t waste any more time. You grabbed the lantern and scrambled out of the crawlspace. 

Once back in the cabin you made for the exit and froze in the doorway. Hongjoong was standing outside the garden gate, watching you. You took a deep breath and exited the cabin, walking towards the gate. He didn’t move, instead, watched you curiously.

As you started to walk past, he stepped in front of you, blocking the path. “What are you doing here?” he asked, in a soft voice. You looked up, not expecting that. His eyes were no longer demonic but back to the warm brown you had grown accustomed to and fell in love with.

“I’m doing what you asked me to do,” you replied. “You told me if anything happened to you that I should take this box from its hiding place and bury it deep in the forest.” You gestured at the box cradled in your arm. Hongjoong glanced at it before his eyes met yours.

“Why didn’t you do it before?” You stared at him. “Well it was storming that night and so I planned to do it the next morning but then you came back that night and things just got… confusing,” you said softly. You glanced towards the setting sun. Hongjoong seemed to take notice. “Are you in a hurry?” he asked, sounding genuine.

You nodded. “Yeah, the woods aren’t safe at night,” you said softly. An idea crossed your mind. “I’m going to bury this now. Do… Do you want to come with me? See where I put it just in case?” Hongjoong’s eyes lit up, a smile crossing over his face as he nodded.

You swallowed the lump in your throat before holding your hand out for him to take. He hesitantly took your hand and you walked, pulling him along as you headed for the stream. As you walked, hand in hand, you noticed how his hand was warm and it almost was as if he was himself again but you knew it was dangerous to think like that.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” he said softly as you walked. “I do, though,” you said, nodding, seeing bits of the stream through the trees. “Why?” he asked. “Why do you have to do it?” You glanced up at him as you walked.

“Because I promised you I would and I keep my promises.”

Hongjoong studied your face before he looked down, noticing the ring on your finger. “Like you kept your promise to love only me?” he asked, sounding heartbroken. “You died,” you reminded him. “You died and became something else. I had to think of myself,” you explained. “I needed to get away from my parents. I just wanted to feel happy again,” you said softly. 

Hongjoong stopped, keeping a firm grip on your hand. 

“We could be happy,” he said as you turned to look at him. “Hongjoong,” you said, shaking your head as he let go of your hand and moved forward, closing the distance and taking your face gently in his hands.

“We could leave this all behind. Run away like we planned and live a life by the sea,” he continued. You pulled back, feeling your conflicting emotions swirling inside you. “No, we can’t,” you replied. “You’re dead, Hongjoong.” 

He looked at you in both pain and confusion. “You said you would always love me,” he whispered, voice cracking. “And I will,” you replied. “I will always love Hongjoong,” you repeated. He looked up at you. “But you are not Hongjoong.”

He stared at you until his form shifted, the fiery eyes coming back, horns reappearing. “You’re a very smart woman,” he said, Hongjoong’s soft cadence gone, replaced with this more confident and arrogant sound one. “We could be happy,” he repeated, his hand moving to your cheek. “I could be him,” he added.

His hand slid down to your throat, fingers brushing your skin. “I could be Hongjoong for you,” he whispered. The thought of a demon masquerading as Hongjoong made your skin crawl. It was bad enough he had latched onto his soul and possessed his body. “I could build you those cabins. What was it? A hundred of them? I could do that.”

You backed away from him, shaking your head. “No,” you answered. “You are a demon, pretending to be the man I loved. You’ve killed people. You wanted to kill me,” you continued. The demon took a step forward. “I wanted to,” he said, emphasizing the past tense.

“I don’t want that anymore,” he pressed on. “All I want is you now. I wish I could kill you but he would fight. He might force me out and I can’t have that. I worked too hard to get this body.” You stared at him in disgust. “He’s powerful. His thoughts. He wants you more than anything. More than life itself. I have never experienced such intense longing like this.”

“I have to have you or else the thoughts won’t stop.” You took a step back.

“You’ll never have me,” you replied. “You’re not Hongjoong. You’re a disgusting, vile demon who has killed good, innocent people. Hongjoong would be disgusted by what you’ve done with his body. You will never be Hongjoong!”

The demon lunged for you but you dodged his attempt and turned, heading for the stream, jumping over the sigil on the forest floor. The demon gave chase, running through it and just like that he was caught.

“Got him!” Wooyoung yelled. At once, the priests appeared from the brush and attached ropes to Hongjoong’s wrists and neck, holding him as Yunho prepared the banishing ritual.

“Y/N,” Yeosang said as he turned to look at you. “Head back to the village!” You looked at the ropes binding Hongjoong as he fought to free himself and shook your head. “No,” you whispered. “It’ll take too long,” you said back. “I’m going further!”

Before Yeosang could stop you, you had turned and ran across the stream, following the path you’d look at, wondering where it led. 

Tonight would be the night you would find out.

As you ran through the trees, you followed the twists and turns of the dirt path as the sun sank lower and lower towards the horizon. As you rounded the bend, an old stone building came into view. You ran towards it, stepping over the threshold and looked around. It was a round room with three open doorways and a smaller room opposite where you entered. It seemed to be structurally sound.

You approached a small round platform and stepped onto it, looking up at the stone ceiling before kneeling down and setting the box down. You drew a circle with a sigil inside, following Mingi’s instructions and carefully set the box in the middle, grabbing the firestarter Yeosang had given you and quickly lit a fire before lighting a small piece of loose fibers and dropping them into the box.

You quickly surrounded the entire circle with a protection circle, like Mingi has shown you and took a step back, looking at the small inferno before you. “Now no one can stop it,” you whispered as you sat back and watched it burn.

“We can’t hold him much longer,” Yeosang said as he watched Hongjoong struggle against the ropes. “It’s just so Y/N can burn the contents of the box,” he said, turning to look in the direction you had run. Hongjoong let out a roar, pulling at the ropes. Yeosang looked as the individual threads started to snap.

“Perhaps we better start,” he said, turning to look at Yunho who nodded. “Yes,” he answered. “Jongho,” he added, turning to look at the monk. “You’re up.”

Mingi and Wooyoung tightened their grip on the ropes as did Yeosang. Yunho took Jongho’s place, allowing the youngest to approach Hongjoong from the front, reaching into the bag slung over his shoulder and pulling out a small leatherbound book.

He looked up at the demon as it snarled and attempted to lash out. Jongho glanced around at the others as he opened the book. “Let’s begin.”

Jongho cleared his throat before speaking in a clear, unwavering tone.

“In nómine Pátris, et Fílii, + et Spirítus Sancti. Amen.” A chorus of affirmations rang out from the others before he continued.

“Exsúrgat Deus et dissipéntur inimíci ejus: et fúgiant qui odérunt eum a fácie ejus. Sicut déficit fumus defíciant; sicut fluit cera a fácie ígnis, sic péreant peccatóres a fácie Dei. Júdica Dómine nocéntes me; expúgna impugnántes me,” he continued. Yunho glanced at the setting sun before turning to look at the demon. The ropes were becoming more and more frayed as the strength of the demon grew.

“I think we might have to skip formalities, Jongho,” Yunho said as he looked at the young priest. Jongho looked up, eyes examining the ropes before he lowered his eyes and started flipping through the pages of his book.

“Exorcizámos te, ómnis immúnde spíritus, ómnis satánic potéstas, ómnis infernális adversárii, ómnis légio, ómnis congregátio et sécta diabólica, in nómine et virtúte Dómini nóstri Jésu et Chrísti,” he continued, reading from the new page. “Eradicáre et effugáre a Dei Ecclésia, ab animábus ad imáginem Dei cónditis ac pretióso divíni Ágni sánguine redémptis. Non últra áudeas, sérpens callidíssime, decípere humánum génus, Dei Ecclésiam pérsequi, ac Dei eléctos excútere et cribráre sicut tríticum. Ímperat tíbi Deus altíssimus, + cui in mágna tua supérbia te símile habéri ádhuc praesúmis; qui ómnes hóminess vult sálvos fíeri, et ad agnitiónem veritátis veníre.”

San looked at Wooyoung with a quizzical look. “Does it always take you this long?” he asked, to which Wooyoung glared at him. “You can’t just recite a few words and then lop his head off,” Wooyoung answered. “It’s much more complex than that.”

At his words, the demon let out a roar, pulling at the ropes even more. “We don’t have time for this!” Yunho yelled at the two. “Jongho, I apologize, I know you have a penchant for doing this properly but we really cannot waste any time. We have to speed this up before we lose control of the demon!”

Jongho’s brows furrowed in annoyance as he flipped a few pages further and reached into his bag, pulling out a small vial of what looked to be blood. “What is that?” San asked, wrinkling his nose in disgust. “Blood,” Jongho said simply. “The order Jongho comes from uses blood instead of water for rituals. They bless it the same way you do water,” Yunho explained.

Jongho flicked the vial towards the demon and immediately, a reaction occurred. The blood hit the demon’s face and started to sizzle, the demon letting out a demonic screech. “Váde sátana, invéntor et magíster ómnis falláciae, hóstis humánae salútis,” Jongho said in a loud, clear voice. “Da lócum Chrísto, in quo níhil invenísti de opéribus tuis; da lócum Ecclésia Uni, Sanctae, Cathólicae, et Apostólicae, quam Chrístus ípse acquisívit sánguine suo!”

He turned to look at San. “Ready yourself,” he instructed. San nodded, reaching over his shoulder to grab the handle of the sword that rested against his back, keeping his eyes on Hongjoong. “When I tell you, swing and swing hard.”

“Humiliáre sub poténti mánu Dei; contremísce et éffuge, invocáto a nóbis sáncto et terríbili nominé Jésu, quem ínferi trémunt, cui Virtútes caelórum et Potestátes et Dominatiónes subjéctae sunt, quem Chérubim et Séraphim indeféssis vócibus láudant, dicéntes: Sánctus, Sanctus, Sanctus Dóminus Déus Sábaoth,” Jongho recited the passage from his book.

“You know this next part. Recite your parts,” Jongho instructed, directing his words to San.

“Ab insídiis diáboli,”  Jongho said, not looking up from his book as a strong wind started to swirl around them.

San’s grip tightened on his sword. “Líbera nos, Dómine,” San said, keeping his voice steady as fiery eyes turned their gaze upon him.

Jongho pressed on. “Ut Ecclésiam tuam secúra tíbi fácias libertáte servíre.”

San’s look of determination did not waver as he spoke. “Te rogámus, áudi nos.”

Jongho looked up from his book as he recited his last part. “Ut inimícos sánctae Ecclésiae humiliáre dignéris.” He snapped the book shut as San pulled the sword from its sheath on his back, taking the handle with both hands.

“Te rogámus, áudi nos,” San repeated, bringing the sword up.

Jongho hit the demon with one more shake of the vial of blood but before San could bring the sword down, the ropes broke, sending Mingi, Wooyoung, Yeosang, and Yunho flying backwards. Jongho stumbled backwards from the force as the demon lunged at San. A choke scream of pain rang out as the demon grabbed San’s weapon, ripping it from his hands and plunging it into the hunter’s chest.

Mingi got up, grabbing the snapped end of the rope in an attempt to gain control of the situation but the demon was quicker, grabbing his arm. Mingi tried to pull his arm away but the demon was too strong.

Yeosang looked up as Mingi started to let out a scream of pain and before his eyes, Mingi’s arm caught fire, spreading quickly throughout his body. Mingi fell to the ground, screams piercing the air as he rolled around. Yeosang attempted to get up, Yunho helping him up as the demon turned its attention on Jongho, leaping onto him and knocking them both to the ground. 

In a matter of seconds, the demon was able to take out three of them but Yunho was determined. He grabbed one of the ropes, fashioning a noose quickly before throwing it over the demon’s head and pulling as Yeosang grabbed another rope. Wooyoung, instead of helping, pulled out a dagger. “Wooyoung, no!” Yeosang yelled as the younger man went for the demon, driving the dagger into his side, managing to hit between two of his ribs.

Hongjoong turned, grabbing Wooyoung by the throat and squeezing. Yeosang watched as the demon lifted Wooyoung with ease, lifting him off the ground so his feet were dangling. Without wincing, he pulled the knife out of his side and stabbed it into Wooyoung’s abdomen, twisting the knife with a malevolent grin. He harshly pulled the blade out at an angle, slicing sideways into Wooyoung’s stomach before dropping him to the ground.

Yeosang’s eyes widened as Hongjoong stalked forward, Wooyoung’s dagger in hand. Yunho dropped the rope, getting to his feet, and rushed the demon. Everything that followed seemed to happen in slow motion as Hongjoong reached Yeosang. 

There was a sting in his stomach, just to the left of his navel followed by a burning sensation. Yeosang’s eyes traveled down as all sound seemed to be muffled, noticing the blade of the knife had been driven into his skin, through his shirt. He looked back up to meet Hongjoong’s gaze, the two staring at one another before Yunho tackled the demon to the ground.

Yeosang let out a cry of pain as the knife was ripped from his stomach, sending a fresh wave of pain throughout his body as he covered his stomach, blood beginning to soak his shirt. Yeosang fell to his knees, looking past Hongjoong and Yunho wrestling on the forest floor to the still bodies of San and Jongho. Wooyoung was still gasping for breath as he lay, bleeding out. 

Mingi’s charred body lay several paces away still smoldering. Yeosang heard a sickening snap and Yunho went limp, falling to the ground as Hongjoong stood over him. The demon turned to Yeosang, panting with effort. He grabbed the knife and walked over slowly, grabbing Yeosang by the hair and forcing him to look up at him.

“I could finish you right now,” Hongjoong said, pointing the bloodied tip of the blade at Yeosang. “But I have unfinished business with your wife. If you’re still alive when I come back,” he added, pushing Yeosang to the ground. “I’ll kill you then.”

Yeosang was unable to see which way Hongjoong went, but knew without a doubt it was the same direction you had gone. Despite the agonizing pain, Yeosang pushed himself up, keeping his hand over the wound in his stomach as he stumbled after, following the path just beyond the stream. He needed to get to you before something happened.

You sat motionless, watching the box burn, each item either turning to ash or charring. The small fire popped and crackled, providing a surprising amount of warmth as you rested a hand over your stomach. You looked down, feeling a small amount of triumph at what you had accomplished and could only hope the priests had been able to do the rest.

There was a small whoosh behind you and a gentle breeze. Your eyes widened as a chill went up your spine and slowly, you turned to look at the doorway behind you, finding Hongjoong standing in the only means of escape, hands covered in blood and a bloodied knife clenched in one hand.

Your eyes traveled up to his face, noticing the specks of blood all over his shirt, neck, and face. You scrambled up, backing away until your back hit the wall. “No,” you whispered as he looked up from the burning box. He started forward and you screamed at him to stay back.

He looked down at the knife in his hand and back up at you before tossing the blade aside, ignoring the clatter of the steel hitting the stone floor as he crossed the room to where you stood, caging you in as he grabbed your throat. “You’ve been a very bad, bad girl, Y/N,” he said as he pinned you against the wall.

You struggled against his hold, fingers slipping over the blood that coated his wrist. “Let me go,” you squeaked out, making him laugh wryly. “Let you go?” he asked in an almost hysterical tone. “Did you not hear me earlier, Starlight?” he asked, leaning in until his face was inches from yours, lips close to yours. “I. Want. You.”

You tried in vain to pry his hand off you, kicking as he slid your body up the wall, lifting your feet off the ground. “Whether you give in to me willingly or fighting doesn’t matter. I will get what I want in the end Starlight.”

You slid the garland San had given you from your pocket and quickly wrapped it around Hongjoong’s wrist. The effect was instant and he threw you to the side as he screamed in pain, the materials burning his skin.

You landed on the stone, hitting your head with a crack but tried to scrambled up and make for the archway. Hongjoong recovered quickly, crossing the distance and grabbing your ankle, making you trip and fall before he started dragging you back towards him.

“Please, please, please!” you screamed, trying desperately to grab onto the stone blocks of the floor. Hongjoong pulled you under him, rolling you onto your back as he pinned you against the stone floor. “Now you want to beg for your life?” he asked, laughing mockingly.

“After every stunt you’ve pulled. Luring me into that trap, burning that box, and then using that little trick with the garland? You think after all this, I’m going to show you mercy? You’ve been helping them all along, you slippery, little minx.”

You tried to kick him off but your efforts were in vain. “Please,” you said tearfully as his eyes traveled down to your throat. “I’m pregnant,” you whimpered, tears falling freely. Hongjoong looked up to meet your gaze. “Another trick?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. You shook your head. “No,” you said breathlessly. “I’m with child. Please,” you continued. 

“Don’t kill me.”

Yeosang stumbled along the path, one hand covered in blood that continued to seep out of the wound on his stomach. He leaned against a tree, the tips of his fingers growing cold as he pressed on. His breath was growing shorter, he knew he didn’t have long and he needed to get to you before Hongjoong did.

As he rounded the bend in the path, he noticed an abandoned stone building with a flickering light inside. ‘That must be where Y/N is.’ He continued forward, hobbling towards the building. As he reached the open doorway, he stumbled, falling to his knees, letting out a pained groan as more blood painted his hand. He let out a couple deep breaths before forcing himself up and through the doorway.

Across from him, perched atop a small platform, stood Hongjoong. At his feet, a ruined, burned box surrounded by a circle of protection. Yeosang looked back up and noticed you pinned against the wall behind Hongjoong, vines holding you up. You let out a gasp at the sight of your husband as he lost his balance and fell to his knees.

“Let me go, please!” you begged. Hongjoong glanced over his shoulder before he sighed, waving his hand. The vines retreated, slithering away like snakes and releasing you from their hold. You rushed past him to Yeosang, dropping to your knees to look him over, only noticing his bloodied hand as you looked down.

Hongjoong stepped around the box, stepping down from the platform as he watched as you fretted over Yeosang. You turned to look at him, tears in your eyes. “Please,” you begged. “Save him. If Hongjoong is still in there, please save Yeosang!”

The demon let out an exasperated sigh. “He can’t hear you,” he said, shaking his head. “Hongjoong is buried deep inside. And besides,” he said, starting to pace the room behind you. “I doubt he would willingly help the man who stole you from him.”

You turned to look at him. “He didn’t steal me!” you argued. “Hongjoong died, you tried to kill me, and Yeosang saved me. I owe him everything. I love him.” You felt Yeosang grab your arm, looking up at you wearily. “Run,” he panted. “Leave me and save yourself.”

You shook your head, taking his face in your hands. “No,” you replied. “I’m not leaving you behind!” You heard Hongjoong stop pacing behind you and turned to look at him. “He’s right, you know. You should run. I’ll even cut you a deal,” he said with a smile as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“You run now, I’ll focus all my attention Yeosang. Draw out his suffering before I kill him and when I’m done, I will hunt you down and do the same to you. Think of it as a head start,” he said with a wicked grin, a malicious glint in his eye.

You stared back in horror. “You said you didn’t want to kill me,” you reminded him. Hongjoong smiled, laughing to himself before it subsided. “Yeah,” he said with a sigh. “I lied.”

Yeosang started coughing and you turned as he coughed blood into his hand. “Oh,” said Hongjoong in mock concern. “That doesn’t look too good.” You turned to glare at him, tears streaming down your face. “Now is your perfect chance to run, cause if he dies before you get very far, it won’t take me that long to hunt you down.”

You shook your head. “You’re a monster,” you spat. “How charming,” Hongjoong said in a monotonous voice as he stared back. “I’m offering you a chance to live just a little bit longer and you’re calling me names for it.”

“I’m not leaving!” you shouted. “I’m not a fucking coward, like you!” You turned to look at Yeosang who was shaking his head. “I’m not running.” You pressed a kiss to his lips. “Do what you have to,” you whispered. “I’ll buy you some time.”

Hongjoong’s smile widened. “I was hoping you’d say that,” he said before crossing the distance and grabbing you by the back of the neck and pulling you from Yeosang’s grasp. “No! Don’t. She’s pregnant!” he yelled as Hongjoong dragged you back, making you face Yeosang as he forced you to your knees. “She already tried that,” Hongjoong scoffed.

He produced the knife taken from Wooyoung and brought the edge of the blade to your throat. “No, no, no!” Yeosang shouted. “It’s not mine!” he yelled, drawing Hongjoong’s attention. “What?” the demon asked. “It’s not mine,” Yeosang whispered. “She was pregnant before we were ever intimate. She got… so sick before we got married. She was sick for days. Throwing up blood and I thought maybe she’d been poisoned,” Yeosang explained quickly.

“But I think she was pregnant.”

Hongjoong’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the priest before looking down at you and back up to Yeosang slowly. “And there’s only one other man she’s been with,” Yeosang added. You sobbed silently as Hongjoong lowered the knife, pointing it at Yeosang. “Do you take me for a fool?” he asked. 

Yeosang shook his head. “No,” he answered. “But you must have known when Hongjoong came back, they were intimate. You were already inside his body. Did you not take control sometimes? During the act?” The demon stared at him. “And what if I did?” he asked. “What would that change?”

“That could be your child,” Yeosang answered. “It wouldn’t be mine,” the demon answered. “It would be Hongjoong’s.” Yeosang shook his head, holding a hand out as he rushed to buy some time. “No, not if you were in control when you climaxed. It would be your child.”

The demon looked back up. “You think I’m stupid, don’t you?” he asked, letting out a humorless laugh. “This changes nothing. You’re both going to die.”

You let out a sob as Hongjoong grabbed the back of your head. “Look at him!” he ordered. “I want his dying face to be the last thing you see,” he added as he brought the blade back to your throat. “Y/N, look at me,” Yeosang said suddenly as you gasped between sobs. “Look at me, sweetheart.” You blinked the tears away, meeting his gaze.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Do what you have to,” you added. “I love you, Yeosang. So much.” His eyes widened as you glanced down at the box before you turned, lunging at  Hongjoong and knocking the both of you backwards, the knife falling from his hand with a metallic clang. Yeosang dropped his hand to the stone, quickly drawing a small sigil as you and Hongjoong wrestled on the floor, both of you grunting in effort.

“Fortress of stone, hear my words and hold this creature of evil at bay. Let him not travel from this place for eternity as long as the stone endures. Hide him away from the world and keep him imprisoned,” Yeosang whispered as he finished the symbol.

With a loud snap, Yeosang looked up as Hongjoong sat up, staring down at your lifeless body. A sob left Yeosang’s lips as the demon got up, stumbling backwards as he stared, wide eyed at your corpse. The fiery eyes had returned to Hongjoong’s warm brown ones and in a cruel joke, the demon forced Hongjoong to look on in horror at what he’d done. “I’m…” Hongjoong whispered as Yeosang dragged himself over to where you lay.

Hongjoong looked up as Yeosang reached you, pulling you up to cradle your shoulders. “I didn’t mean to—” Hongjoong said as Yeosang looked up at him. “I know,” Yeosang answered. “It wasn’t you. It was the demon.” He looked back down, caressing your still warm cheek. “It was one last cruel act of the demon to break your spirit and I daresay it worked.”

When Yeosang looked back up, the warm brown eyes of Hongjoong were gone, the demon’s eyes were back and he looked down at him. “Very observant indeed,” the demon said with a sneer. “I was going to kill you,” he continued as he started to walk past. “But I think I’ll just let you bleed out. It’s more fun that way.”

Yeosang let out a humorless chuckle. “You’ll have to stay and watch,” he said, looking up. Hongjoong turned at the doorway to look at him. “I’ve bound your demonic soul to this building and now you’ll never be able to leave,” Yeosang explained, pointing at the sigil which was now etched into the stone and no longer written in his blood.

“As long as any part of this building stands, you will be stuck here for eternity,” Yeosang gasped, as his grip on you lessened, the strength leaving his body. He was able to give the demon a smirk of his own as those fiery eyes turned to look at him in a murderous rage. “My parting gift to you.”

Yeosang slowly succumbed to his wound, slumping over your body as he finally passed out. Hongjoong turned to the doorway and attempted to reach past it, finding an invisible barrier keeping him from leaving. He tried again only to be forced back. He let out a scream of frustration, kicking the stone wall as he tried in vain to break the stone and free himself.

He threw himself against one of the walls and screamed in anger towards the stone ceiling, the sound reverberating off the stone. He sat in silence, breathing heavily as he stared at yours and Yeosang’s lifeless bodies and then the burnt box. He looked away, anger still coursing through him until he saw the three open doorways, staring at them for what felt like hours.

Finally, he got up and walked over, peering into each one before he started to inspect the walls more closely. He turned about the room a few times before he walked over to the small platform and stepped up onto it, looking around before raising his gaze to the ceiling, noticing the small open circle in the middle.

He looked down and took a seat at the edge of the platform, looking at you and Yeosang once more before scoffing. “Well,” he said, admitting defeat. “You certainly got the last laugh in,” he continued. “And since I’ll be stuck here for the foreseeable future,” he added.

“Let’s have some fun, shall we?”

©️ kwanisms 2024 | all works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works. All graphics made by me unless stated otherwise.

[sailtomarina]

Buy None, Get Two

cw: smut, M/M/F

It was supposed to be a short stop, your intention being to pick up a few personal items then head on home. Today was the one and only day of the Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes Spring Sale, after all, and their lines of WonderWitch were second to none in creativity and efficacy.

In hindsight, it would have been smarter to enter like any other customer from the front door. The main entrance meant light, open space, and plenty of witnesses. You would have been able to shop in peace with little interruption but the knowing wink of the clerk.

Let’s just say that eagerness played a part in your absence of thought. You tossed on your favourite corduroy skirt, a heavy knit jumper, and your trainers before grabbing your purse.

You went through the Floo by habit, stepping directly from your cottage into the twins’ flat above the shop. Were this any other day, the lights would have been out, the space quiet, the telltale ginger hair bent over experiments or paperwork downstairs in their offices.

So when you walked directly into the well-lit sitting room where Fred and George lounged on the sofa directly facing the fireplace, you froze.

“Well, well, what do we have here, Forge?”

“I don’t know, Gred. It looks like our girl’s here to take advantage of some great savings.”

You could feel your lips curling into the familiar grin these two always prompted, but you angled your body towards the front door in an attempt to squeeze by safely. “Now boys, I only have a small window of time that I intend to use wisely–”

Your well-laid plans ended in a squeak as you were lifted off your feet and laid unceremoniously across two sets of legs. Fred’s arm cradled your head carefully while his other automatically wrapped around your waist. George immediately took to removing your trainers, strong fingers massaging circles against the tight muscles and turning you limp.

“Our little sale has been more successful than anticipated and we thought we’d get away for a breather–,” Fred said lightly, his hand now tracing down your cheek.

“–so your arrival comes at a perfect time, love,” George picked up where his brother left off. You couldn’t help the sigh that escaped you as he slipped off your socks. His hands were warm against your smooth skin, and you thanked yourself for the foresight of shaving the night before.

“What did you two have in mind?” While you knew exactly what it was you wanted, you decided to play coy. They’d disrupted your original ideas, after all. You couldn’t make things too easy for them.

“Well…” Fred’s fingers propped your chin up as he leaned down to hover just out of reach, “that depends.”

“On?”

Your eyes flickered away from Fred to watch as George shifted on the chaise, separating your legs so he could turn and kneel between them. 

George licked his lips as he eyed the two of you, and his hands moved up your thighs to continue his gentle rubbing. “On what it was you were planning on purchasing.”

Trapped between their warm bodies as you were, you couldn’t help the flush that worked its way up your chest to fill your cheeks. They smirked at the sight.

“I wanted to pick up some Daydream Charms,” you continued despite the way Fred clicked his tongue in disapproval, “Crush Blush, since I’m almost out, and a Tongue Twister–”

“I can understand the blush, but do you really need the others when you already have two wizards who are more than happy to fulfil any fantasies you might have?” George interrupted.

His hands slipped beneath the thick fabric of your skirt, long fingers sweeping up the expanse of your thighs and encouraging you to widen them as he bent forward.

“George, you really don’t need to–”

“He wants to, love, as do I,” Fred said, gripping your chin firmly and raising his eyebrows. “Or do you want us to stop? Just say the word.”

The mouth that had been kissing its way up your inner thigh paused now above your centre, the heat of his breath priming you for a very different sort of tongue. A gush pulsed through you at past memories of how skillful they were with their fingers and mouths. They were insatiable, their focus unwavering and discerning of how every single sensation affected you. They used that knowledge to their advantage and your demise, turning you into a helpless puddle at their beck and call.

Sometimes it mortified you, afterwards, thinking about all the ways you unravelled at their touch, how easily they could make you say and do things you never would have dared on your own. You weren’t a very open person, despite how your body and mind seemed to unfurl at the mere suggestion of their eyes on yours.

You knew without a shred of doubt that, were you to say so, Fred and George would remove their hands. You hadn’t put a label on what it was that went on between the three of you just yet. You hoped, yes. You craved and dreamt.

“Don’t stop.” Low and breathless, you sounded desperate because, well, you were.

“Your coins are no good to us, sweetheart,” Fred murmured. He maintained a steady commentary while George mouthed you through the thin cotton of your knickers. 

The barrier was a joke sodden as it was with the combination of his spit and your steady arousal. He sealed his mouth against you and hummed. The vibrations sent you into a backbreaking arch with a moan. It was only Fred’s hands against your shoulders that stopped you from lifting off of the chaise entirely. His chuckle was warm against your cheek, his kiss a reassuring pressure to your temple.

The moment the gusset of your knickers was swept to the side and George ran a flattened tongue the full length of your slit, you cried out, scrabbling for purchase on something, anything.

Fred met you, fingers threading through yours and lips crashing down to muffle your cries. Slowly, he brought your hand up with his own to wrap around your throat. He didn’t squeeze, but he didn’t have to. The mere presence was close enough of a claim to tip you over the edge as George plunged two fingers inside and curled them upward.

“Pretty girl, so sweet and good for us,” Fred cooed. “Can you be good for a bit longer?” His hips shifted beneath your head where it rested. You could feel the thick length of him straining against the constraints.

“Please!” This was why you’d come over, wasn’t it? You’d dreamt last night of a scenario much like this one where the twins moved over and around you, taking turns wringing pleasure from you like another one of their experiments. 

You only had to turn your head the barest amount before your jaw opened wide to take in his bared cock, while, at the same time, you felt a blunt pressure at your cunt. Like they shared one mind, they impaled you from both ends. Hands pressed against your hips and the back of your head, bringing you flush against them. You trembled, and you gagged, and still they held on tight.

“Nnnnn,” you couldn’t speak with your mouth and throat stuffed full; you weren’t sure how much longer you could last like this.

One of them, you weren’t sure who, shushed you. Fingers brushed against your clit, a fist tightened around your hair, spots danced across your vision through which you could only see the milky skin of Fred’s lower abs and a thatch of red hair slightly darker than the rest.

Just as you felt like you were about to pass out, they pulled back, and you gasped for air just in time to be filled once again. They repeated the process until you shouted around Fred’s cock and shook beneath George’s circling thumb.

“Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, I’m–” Fred groaned deep as he started to come, spilling down your throat as you worked to swallow all of him. “Look at you, drinking me up.” He didn’t care about the cum still coating your lips as he bent down to tangle his tongue with yours, thrusting deep and swirling around as if he meant to clean you up.

His mouth caught your cries as George pulled your knees up and spread them in a wide v, thrusting as deep as he could to finish. George nuzzled against your tits over the jumper you still wore as he pulsed inside of you. The slight tingle of magic across your abdomen let you know one of them had cast a contraception charm. It wasn’t until he slipped out of you and sat up that Fred pulled back from your kiss.

“Any chance we can convince you to join us downstairs?” George asked as he offered you your knickers. 

They both wore satisfied grins, eyes crinkled at the corners and lips swollen and red. Given the state of their faces and how their hair stood in disarray, there was no question about what they’d been doing in their free time. 

You tapped your chin as you pretended to think. “I do still have a few more fantasies I’d like to experience if there are any more Daydream charms left…”

Laughter bubbled out of you at the insulted looks they gave you, a joy that turned into dismay when George vanished your knickers with a casual wave of his hand.

“Cheeky witches don’t get to wear knickers,” he sniffed. The act was just that, his smirk giving away his amusement.

“We do still need to eat, if you’d like to join us for lunch.” The uncharacteristic seriousness in Fred’s voice prompted you to look more carefully at him.

“Are you asking me out on a date, Fred Weasley?”

“What if we are?” His chin came up in that stubborn way of his you sometimes saw around his family and rivals. George looked much the same, even with the hint of his smile remaining.

You could slap the invitation down with your usual playful air, and they’d likely go along with your decision. While none of you had strictly gone out of your way to hide the attraction you felt for one another, this would be the first such instance of publicly acknowledging it as such.

“I could be persuaded…”

You looked them both over, biting your lip as you imagined all the ways they could go about convincing you. The possibilities were endless, your mind a playground for three. They leaned forward, beckoned by the prize dangling before them.

Then you bolted, aiming for the door sans knickers and trainers knowing full well they’d never let you make your escape. Laughter rang out behind you, then the familiar weave of their magic wound around you and yanked you back into their arms.

Right where you belonged.

1825 WC

5.19.24 FB: Lauren’s Kitchen prompt: “sale”

Cross-posted on Tumblr, Facebook, and AO3.

[goodlucktai]

till you can breathe on your own

rise of the tmnt word count: 20k i wrote this fic for the turtle trenches server’s november gift exchange ! my giftee was @acewithapaintbrush and ace’s prompts were “found family, leosagi, wholesome disaster twins, and splinter being a good dad to the boys.” instead of being normal and picking one i decided to create an au that included all of those things at once and this is what i came up with. ace i really hope you enjoy it <3 happy turtle day ! title borrowed from keeping your head up by birdy

read on ao3

x

When Leonardo was eight years old, he and his best friend survived a house fire.

The blaze was put out thanks to a passing yokai with a magic spell for rain newly purchased that she was happy to use to help, but two of the children attending lessons there came up unaccounted for. Panicked neighbors searched for upwards of an hour only to find the boys fast asleep in a cart of clean linens parked out front of the bath house. 

There was a faint trace of mystic energy lingering around them but no one came forward as the one it belonged to, and they wouldn’t be able to explain what had happened. One minute they were trapped and frightened, and the next everything was blue and they were safe. 

Ultimately the rescue was credited to a powerful good samaritan who wished to remain anonymous, and the townsfolk collectively decided to be grateful for the miracle without unraveling it any further.

Leonardo’s friend moved away while his house was repaired, and Leonardo was returned to where he belonged at the local orphanage. He smiled when the matron fussed over him, even though he didn’t feel like smiling, and continued to pretend like he didn’t hear the other kids calling him bad luck.  

“You’d think someone would want him,” one of the older kids whispered during lunch. “Last time we had a turtle here they got snatched up in like a week.”

“Miss Toto says that way of thinking is archaic,” a tiny otter yokai piped up with remarkable authority, given that he clearly didn’t know the meaning of the word he was repeating. “Kameko has as much of a chance as the rest of us do.”

“Clearly,” the older kid muttered. 

Leonardo, who wasn’t Leonardo yet—who was called Kameko by the orphanage matron because she wasn’t especially creative, and Lucky by the other kids so they could be mean in a sneaky, underhanded way, and Stripes by his best friend, who mattered more than any of them—spent a lot of time dreaming of having a chance. 

He had no way of knowing that at the same time, miles away and a city above, an early-middle-aged man run ragged day in and out by three energetic children and sloughing through a persistent sadness was dreaming, too. 

The man was dreaming of his own childhood; a garden with a pond and lines of laundry drying in the late summer sun, a delicious smell sneaking out the kitchen window where jiji was grilling fish for dinner, his mother lifting her head to grace him with a smile he once took for granted. 

In the dream, she had to reach up to hold his face, because he was the same age now as she was when she died and several inches taller than her in adulthood. She didn’t mind his fur or snout or big rounded ears, and if anything the involuntary twitch of his whiskers only made her smile deepen. 

“My sweet boy,” she murmured, “I’m so proud of you.”

“How?” he choked out. He clung to her arms. He had a thousand things he wanted to tell her. All that came tripping out was, “How can you be?”

“Because I know how big your heart is,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “You love so richly and earnestly. Even after that was taken advantage of and betrayed, you found more room in your heart for your little ones. Your little turtles.”

The thought of his sons pierced through the gloom of self-hatred like an arrow of light, as simple as flipping a switch in a dark room. He wouldn’t trade a moment with them for anything—not even for another moment with his mother. The overwhelming grief and love coexisted as naturally as two little otters holding hands at sea.

“But don’t you know?” she asked. “Can’t you feel it? Did it get lost in that big heart of yours? One of your children is waiting for you.”

He jerked as if electrocuted, going stiff and still beneath his mother’s hands, because she couldn’t mean to say what it sounded like she was saying. 

That tiny fourth turtle with the blue-patterned shell and bright gold eyes—the first one to smile and reach up to be held, the one that had fallen during their frantic escape and was left behind in the crush of the destroyed lab—the one the little shrine in his room belonged to, even though he didn’t have a proper photo, or a decent idea of what Blue would have looked like grown into personhood—the one that a corner of his heart belonged to, even now, even still—

“He’s alive, my darling,” his mother told him. In the dream, she sounded so certain. The clan symbol on her obi seemed to glow, a warm, shining thing that cast all darkness and doubt aside. “Go and bring my grandbaby home, okay?”

Hamato Yoshi woke up with a gasp, half-blinded by tears. 

——

The boys took the news as well as they possibly could have. It would have felt wrong not to tell them—cruel to keep them in the dark, even if it would shelter them from a hope that might only lead into a dead-end. 

They already knew of their fourth sibling, having long-since discovered the little shrine in Splinter’s room during a pre-Christmas snooping several years ago, but there hadn’t been much that Splinter could offer them when they peppered him for information and eventually those eager questions tapered off. They had only had a few months together in Draxum’s lab before Splinter could stage their escape and bring the facility down behind them—before tragedy had carved a hole into their brand-new family—and that wasn’t long enough to have more than a handful of stories to share. To do the baby’s memory anything resembling justice. 

But since waking up from that dream, Splinter had reached out with his ninpo in the way he hadn’t done since he was very young, like stretching out an atrophied limb, and he felt it. A fourth presence in his heart. It was a very faint echo somewhere far away, like an imprint of smoke left in the sky after a firework. Distant now and fading, but once-bright. Once-blue. 

And he knew. He knew Leonardo was alive.

“Red, you are in charge,” Splinter said, jittery with anticipation. He spared a moment to cup the snapper’s cheek in his palm, brushing his thumb over the rosy-colored diamond pattern there, and added, “Aunt June’s phone number is on the fridge if anything happens—but nothing had better happen! April can visit but you are not allowed to leave our home until I return.”

Red nodded several times, twisting his fingers together. He had inherited Splinter’s anxious heart, but he took being the oldest very seriously, and failure more seriously than that, for all that he was only nine. 

“Are you going to get Leo?” Orange piped up, bouncing in place. He had, in fact, not stopped bouncing since he had gleaned the gist of the conversation that began nearly a full hour ago. “Are you going to bring him home?”

“I am going to try,” Splinter said, kneeling so that he could poke his youngest baby playfully in those ticklish spots on his sides that always elicited a sunny giggle. 

Orange trilled in glee, and then he pulled his limbs and head into his tiny shell the way he often did when he was overexcited or overwhelmed and continued making turtle noises to himself from inside there. 

Splinter caught the talkative box shell before it could clatter to the floor and offered it to Red, who held it to his front the way he hugged his stuffies. 

“Okay my sweet boys,” Splinter said, “stay here and be good and I will see you in a short while.”

Purple trailed him to the front door, or what served as such in their repurposed underground home. After tugging on his coat and boots, Splinter turned to him and crouched down so they were at something approaching eye-level, even if eye contact did not seem to be on the table this morning. 

“You said we hatched at the same time,” Purple surprised the hell out of him by saying. His recalcitrant softshell son very rarely spoke aloud unless asked a direct question, and here he was volunteering whole sentences without preamble. “You said he came out of his egg right after me. He had stripes, and eyes like mine. You called us twins.”

Leonardo was not a forbidden topic in their home, but he was a bit of a sore one. It ached to press on the bruise that was their missing part. Purple in particular had a difficult time making himself understood and being understood in turn. He was also incredibly stubborn, and hard to match wits with. 

A twin must have sounded like a dream. Splinter wondered when Donatello had first shaped this little wish out of clay, and how often he spent taking it out and admiring it, wearing the rough edges into smoothness, giving it substance and character until all that was missing was the life. The color. 

“He was not the same species of turtle as you,” Splinter said. “But you did hatch together, and you did have the same eyes. Blue would fuss at bedtime until I placed him on your shell. You tried to take chunks out of the alchemist’s fingers whenever he parted the two of you.” For tests, he didn’t feel it was necessary to add. He offered his hands, and added, “So that is what I called you. My twin babies.” 

After a moment, Purple took his hands. His mouth was a firm line, golden eyes glued to the floor. There was enough of a wet shine in them that Splinter’s heart strained with the need to right every wrong for him at once. 

“I will find him, Donatello,” Splinter said. “Now that I know he is out there waiting to be found, there is nothing that can stop me. It might take a long time, but we have waited quite a while already, haven’t we?”

Purple nodded, and then stepped forward to bury his snout in the front of Splinter’s coat. It meant that a hug would be not only tolerated but appreciated, and Splinter didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around his little boy. 

“Go on now,” Splinter said, only when Purple had extracted himself. He turned the child around by the shoulders and propelled him back to where Orange and Red were waiting. “I love you, little monsters,” he called loud enough to be heard by all three of them. “If the lair is still standing when I get home, you will get ice cream.”

Their noisy cheers followed him down the tunnel, warming him more effectively than direct sunlight ever could.  

And now Splinter was back in the Hidden City, although he had sworn to himself he would never return. 

His heart was racing, every nerve a livewire, so prepared he was for danger around each corner. He had hoped that the mad alchemist died in the destruction of the lab—had comforted himself with the fact, even, on those nights he woke up from bad dreams—but with Blue’s miraculous survival, Draxum might very well have lived too. Like a cockroach. 

And so he was hesitant to trace his steps back to the ruins of Draxum’s lab. He was not even sure if he would be able to find it. There was a restless, dislocated thing inside of him that made standing still a painful exercise, he so badly wanted to run and run until he found the little turtle he was looking for��he just didn’t know where to go. Where to start. The Hidden City was larger than he remembered.

“Excuse me,” someone said, startling him. He turned to find a short beetle yokai in a rumpled button down shirt and slacks standing just behind him, mandibles clicking idly. The beetle smiled and said, “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help but notice you seemed lost. Can I help in any way?”

It was Splinter’s first instinct to deny the apparent kindness. Lena—or Big Mama as she was called—had carved out the remains of his idealism as deftly as a gardener pulling up the last stubborn weed in a flower bed. People, he had been taught, were rarely kind for no reason. 

But April’s mother was a force of nature in her own right, and had bullied Splinter into friendship with her within a week of their children meeting. A New Yorker to her core, June O’Neil had only needed a moment to adjust to the sight of a mutant rat and three mutant turtles, at which point any lingering strangeness was overshadowed by the relief of finally having another single parent to commiserate with. She was on-call for every scare, every tantrum that left Splinter feeling out of his depth, every milestone. She refused to allow him to wallow in self-pity while he had three little boys to raise. 

June was the sole reason that there were a few shoots of hope growing in the ruin Lena left of him, stubborn and resilient and flowering. People were rarely kind for no reason, but rarely did not mean never. There was goodness to be found if one took the time to look for it. The risk did not always pay off, but the reward when it did was worthwhile every time. 

And so Splinter took his heart in his hands and faced the stranger and said, “Yes, please. If you’re able. I need help.”

The beetle yokai, a friendly, down-to-earth character named Cricket, listened to the bare bones of Splinter’s story and immediately began to guide him down the street. It was a street that would not have looked out of place in Osaka in the 80s. There were storefronts with neon signs and restaurants with enticing noren doors and the steady foot traffic of thousands of yokai milling about their day. No one paid a tall rat mutant any mind. 

“You’ll want the Chamber of Decisions,” Cricket said with a certainty that settled one small inch of the chaos in Splinter’s heart. “There will be someone there who can help you find your son.”

The beetle yokai took time enough out of his own day to show Splinter all the way through a startlingly mundane municipal building to a floor with a placard on the wall declaring it the Civil Courts. He even waited in line with Splinter, making pleasant conversation, until it was his turn to step forward and address the employee behind the front desk.

“Goodbye,” Cricket said at that point, stepping away. “And good luck!”

He was gone before Splinter could thank him, and the gazelle yokai behind the desk repeated, “Next,” in a tone that suggested she would be deeply unhappy to say it a third time. 

“Yes,” Splinter said quickly, “sorry, that’s me.”

“What is your name?” the yokai asked briskly. She had long spiraling horns and a long, narrow face, deceptively delicate. She wore a badge on a lanyard around her neck that read Helena, Court Clerk, and then a mess of characters beneath it that did not look like English or Japanese. 

“Hamato Yoshi,” Splinter replied by rote. When he spoke, a small crystal hovering unobtrusively above the desk glowed a clear spring green. It seemed to indicate his truthfulness, because the yokai didn’t request any further proof of identity. 

“Hamato?” the yokai, presumably Helena, said with a spark of interest. She read something from the text that populated on the holographic tablet in front of her and then added, “We have a backlog of forms here for you. It has been a long time since someone has claimed tenancy of your clan’s branch house in Neo Edo. I assume that’s why you’re here?”

“Uh,” Splinter said intelligently, “no. What?”

“The Hamato Estate,” Helena said. She seemed less than impressed with him. “The one that has been sitting in disrepair and bringing property values of the neighborhood down for more than a century. That has nothing to do with your visit today?” 

The Chamber of Decisions was very human in structure, and the bureaucracy was completely disarming. Splinter didn’t know what he showed up expecting to find here but he sort of felt as though he was walking through a lucid dream.

“Sorry, no, I—I was unaware my family had any dealings in the Hidden Cities at all. I was raised in Japan. In—a human city in Japan. And now my children and I live in New York.” 

Helena’s expression cleared with understanding, her attitude suddenly more helpful as she seemed to realize Splinter was not being willfully obtuse. She opened a drawer of the filing cabinet beside her desk and rifled through it until she came up with form after form that accumulated in an intimidating heap. 

Splinter bit the inside of his mouth so that he wouldn’t say something unfortunate. He was catching up to himself, the surprise and uncertainty of the situation he had found himself in fading into the background, his single-minded focus sharpening into a point once again. 

Blue had waited long enough to be found. It was deeply unfair to make him wait even a moment more. And unfair to Splinter, too, who just wanted to be given a direction that he could run in until he could scoop his son up and never let him go again. 

“Excuse me,” Splinter said, wrestling with himself until a semblance of good manners won its cage match with snarling impatience, “but I am here because I was told you might help me locate a missing child.” 

The gazelle’s head jerked up, hooved hands stilling. “What missing child?”

For the second time that day, Splinter explained his situation to a stranger. Not the whole thing; not the nature of his or his sons’ mutations, or the desperate life-or-death struggle that preceded their flight from the destroyed lab into the nearby city—this city—and then ultimately New York. But the gist of it. The fire, and the baby who fell from his arms, and the long years he has spent mourning a son he thought had died. That much he imparted as succinctly as he knew how. 

Helena punctuated his story with clipped nods, listening intently. She sifted through the stacked bundles of paperwork and withdrew two or three that she placed on the top of the pile. 

“We will register you and your children as citizens of the Hidden Cities,” she said firmly when Splinter had finished detailing the dream that led him to believe his son was alive. “Your clan has already been established here for centuries, so this will not take long. As a citizen you will have the full weight and reach of this court’s resources behind you. We will locate your son.” 

If there had been a chair behind him, Splinter would have collapsed into it. As it is, he only swayed on his feet for a moment, before mustering a hoarse, “Thank you.”

After the dream of his mother, Splinter had been feeling acutely guilty of the way he had left his family name well behind him, crafting a new identity for a new life in America. Now he was only grateful that Lena and that lunatic Draxum would not think twice about a rat mutant named Hamato Yoshi, or his children.

It felt surreal to write down their names—Raphael, Michelangelo, Donatello, Leonardo. For so long, they had been only his precious joys. The human world was not one he could trust to appreciate them. The O’Neils were a shining exception, one in a million. So his little family was kept a well-guarded secret. 

And now here he was, signing an official document that gave his turtles another place to belong, a place that could not be taken away by a mad alchemist or scheming spider. 

“If you come with me, I can take you to the appropriate department,” Helena said, cordial and efficient as she placed the last of the paperwork in a folder that glowed a friendly green before disappearing into fragments of light that spelled out ‘FILED.’ “It’s lucky you came when you did. We have a witch on retainer, and we would have called her in for this, but she’s already working from the office today.”

“Right,” Splinter said, smoothing down his shirt with nervous fingers. 

He didn’t know what his expression was doing, but it seemed to give the gazelle yokai a sense of urgency. She hustled him down a couple of halls and through more than one doorway that seemed to lead to another building entirely, until he was hopelessly lost somewhere in the depths of the administration.

But the office he finally stepped into was one that wouldn’t have looked place in any of the high rise buildings in FiDi, with an executive desk of solid wood, a neat row of filing cabinets, a less neat wall of overflowing shelves, and sparse, impersonal decor. There were a few oddities—self-watering hanging plants suspended in front of the window, and a glowing crystal levitating above the desk where a computer might have sat otherwise—but nothing that made Splinter’s animal hindbrain balk at the door. 

The young woman sitting behind the desk looked up and smiled, round brown face dimpled and kind. Half of her voluminous braided hair was piled on top of her head in a neat bun, while the rest framed her shoulders in interchanging plaits of black and mint green. Her long, pointed ears were pierced a dozen times each and dripping in tiny precious gemstones. 

“Hello there, Helena and friend,” she greeted. “Can I help you?”

“Nimue, this is Hamato-san. He recently had a prophetic dream that a child he lost in infancy is, in fact, alive,” Helena replied promptly. “We’ll need a spell for finding.”

It sounded actually insane when put so plainly, but she spoke in a way that reminded Splinter of his former account manager, no-nonsense and judicious. The young lady behind the desk took them both seriously and stood, brushing her braids back over her shoulder.

“I’ll start at once,” Nimue said. “It’ll only take a few minutes.” 

��Summon me if you need anything else,” Helena said briskly. “I’ll be finalizing the documentation up front.” 

Both yokai and witch were very perfunctory about the whole thing, as if it was business as usual. It went a long way in disarming that last kernel of doubt that Splinter had harbored every step of the way here.

With the doubt uprooted, there was space at last for painful, smothered hope to burst into full and violent bloom. 

He was shuffled into the adjoining room and into a squashy loveseat. This area seemed much more like a witch’s workshop; there were tricky, delicate glass instruments whirring away under their own power at a carved wooden table in the corner, and stacks of heavy leather volumes on all the shelves and flat surfaces, interspersed with jars of things like feathers and stones and shiny beetle shells. Dried herbs and flowers dangled in neat bundles from a rack on the ceiling, where motes of something too colorful to be dust floated in wandering circles. There was a small furry animal curled up to sleep on the arm rest of the chair opposite Splinter’s, light brown with a darker brown band across its eyes. When it lifted its head at the sound of the door closing, Splinter realized it was a ferret. 

“Please excuse the mess,” Nimue said, “I’m really not here that often so I tend not to prioritize organization. I know it’s a sad excuse.”

“I’m a single father parenting thr—four boys,” Splinter replied, heart skipping a beat at the self-correction. He would be parenting four. “The last thing I am qualified to judge anyone on is tidiness.” 

Nimue laughed. “I’ll take it! Now, I told Helena this would only be a moment, and I meant every word. There are lots of disclaimers and policies I could bog you down with, and probably ought to, but I know they’ll just go in one ear and out the other. You’re here to find your son, and that’s what I’m going to help you do.”

“Yes,” Splinter breathed. “Please.”

“Of course! A spell for finding is one of my favorites, not in the least because it’s super simple.” 

Nimue sat across from him, lifted the ferret off the arm of her chair and into her lap, and then held out both her hands. Splinter took them without second-guessing it. 

“Magic draws so much from nature,” the witch went on. As she spoke, various pieces of glass or crystal in the room began to glow, as if her voice contained a brilliance that could be caught and reflected back. “In our spells, we use plants, stones, animal shed—things given by the earth—and sometimes energy generated by a storm or the sea. A friend that I graduated university with channels power from lightning. Very flashy, but very hard to pin down.”

A pool of light formed between them, beneath their joined hands. It was flat and still, like the surface of calm water. Four little jewels in bright candy colors shone through—red, orange and purple clustered together, and blue clear on the other end. Splinter’s heart ached; he knew them. He knew them. 

“At its core, it’s orderly,” Nimue said, her voice calm and smiling. “The most powerful rituals I know of are tied to star charts or phases of the moon, because even celestial bodies follow a pattern. Magic wants to make right. It wants to return things. And so a spell like this costs absolutely nothing. A lost child belongs with their family; that’s as fundamental a thing as gravity.”

She let go of Splinter’s hands and turned her own to catch the pool of light in the cup of her palms. She closed her hands together, as if compressing something as tight as possible between them, and then with a sudden jerking motion, flung them up and open. 

The light spread between them in a translucent, shimmering curtain. It looked like a chart, or a map, though not one Splinter had any hope of reading.  

Nimue hummed in what could either be surprise or delight, her smile showing teeth. 

“Oh, look at how clear and bright they are,” she cooed, “shining like stars. You must be so proud. And here’s little boy blue,” she added, pointing out the lonely light living by itself, isolated from the others. “He’s in Sawara Town, not too far from here.” 

Splinter’s heart was a frantic drum inside his chest. He wasn’t sure if he’d taken a single full, deep breath since he woke up from that dream that brought him to this moment in the first place. He twitched with the urge to scoop those colorful, twinkling little lights out of the rest and hold them close, hold them safe. 

“So what now?” he managed to choke out. “Are you going to teleport me there or something?”

Nimue laughed again, scritching the ferret’s ruff with the tips of her fingers. 

“Teleport? I’m good but I’m not that good! I’ll call you a cab.”

Not even two full hours later, Splinter was walking up the main street of Sawara. It was a bustling rural town with a mighty canal for a heart, filled with wooden fishing boats and framed by thin wisps of willow trees. Machiya-style houses rambled along in tight rows on either side of the waterway, most of them with front doors and shutters slid open to display shop spaces. 

Splinter stopped at a dry goods store to ask for directions to the orphanage, and the storeowner pointed him toward the sprawling estate at the edge of town, tucked into the natural bend of the river. 

He was floating in that dream feeling again. Everything was two inches left of reality. He was half-prepared to discover that this day felt impossible because it was impossible and he should have known better than to believe it could be this easy. He was half-prepared for someone to yank the curtain back and reveal the wizard was just some guy running a long con the whole time. Splinter had always, always been the punchline of a bad joke. 

But he promised the boys he would find their brother. He thought of Purple’s eyes, wide with hope, and his quiet voice saying, “You called us twins.” He thought of that sweet baby he had only briefly been anything like a father to, the first of the four to smile at him, the first one to want to be held by him. 

Resolve filled every chamber of his heart until it overflowed from there and filled the rest of him for good measure. That floating, dreaming feeling scattered into painful cognizance. 

He was Lou Jitsu. He was Hamato Atsuko’s only son. If life had taught him anything, it was how to take a punch. He would follow this road to wherever it led, and if Blue was not at the end of it, then he would find another road to follow. He would walk forever if he had to. He would let his heart get broken a hundred thousand times. 

Splinter let himself through the gate and strode up the meandering path toward the front of the house. He wondered if he ought to announce himself, and then discovered a doorbell half-hidden beneath the leaves of a drooping hanging plant. He rang it, and squared his shoulders, and waited. 

After about a minute, the door slid open to reveal a harried-looking pangolin yokai with a squirming raccoon child in her arms. It was a scene immediately familiar to Splinter as a pre-naptime battle of wills. 

“Oh, hello,” the pangolin said, offering a smile as she managed not to drop the uncooperative toddler with a deftness that spoke of years of experience. “My name is Tomomi, I’m the matron here. How can I help you?”

“Hello,” Splinter replied, returning her bow automatically. He realized suddenly that he probably should have been practicing what he would say in this moment, because he was coming up blank. “Ah, my name is Hamato Yoshi, and I’m—I’m, uh—I’m here for my kid.” 

Nailed it. 

“You may need to be slightly more specific than that,” the matron said, bemused. 

“Right,” Splinter said. Specifics. He could do specifics. “I had a dream. And then there was a whole thing with a witch and a finding spell. Uh, I have documentation? That the court clerk sent with me?” 

Tomomi maneuvered the child into one arm and reached for the papers Splinter offered with her freed hand, all of them stamped with Helena’s imposing seal. As she read, her eyebrows made a shocked jump toward her scaly hairline. 

Splinter’s heart fluttered madly. His chest felt like a cage full of restless birds. 

“My son was lost to me when he was a baby, and I believed that he was dead. Something happened recently that—that revealed him to me. It showed me that he was still alive. If he’s here, I—I want him. I have always wanted him. He has three brothers who have been missing him, too. He has never,” Splinter faltered, and had to swallow twice before he could go on, “he has never been unwanted, not even for a single day.”

“Oh, my spirits,” Tomomi murmured, crouching to let the little raccoon yokai slide free and then dart victoriously away. She straightened again, a hand pressed flat to her chest as she passed the papers back, perfectly stunned. “If he’s here, and he’s yours, I’ll help you however I can. What can you tell me about him?”

Splinter said, “He’s—he’s a little turtle. Eight years old. His shell is—just, one moment.” 

With shaking hands, he crammed the documents into his jacket pocket and withdrew his phone instead. His pictures weren’t sorted into albums, because 99.99% of them were all pictures of his children or April, rendering any attempt to sort them entirely redundant. That did mean he had to swipe for a moment before he found a decent photo of Orange’s carapace, and the warm yellow pattern of his scutes. 

“His shell pattern would be very similar to his brother’s, you see? And his eyes were this color,” Splinter went on, swiping to a picture of Purple glaring resolutely away from the camera, golden eyes distinctive even when narrowed and averted behind thick prescription glasses. “He was—he was very sweet. Very talkative. He wanted to be held all hours of the day. He—”

“He’s here, Hamato-san,” Tomomi blurted, eyes huge. 

“He’s… oh.” Splinter stared back at her, phone still extended dumbly in his hand. He felt frozen in place. A gust of wind would probably have been enough to knock him clear over. “He’s here?”

The matron seemed to be in disbelief herself, staring at Splinter as though he was a figment of her imagination and if she moved too suddenly he might disappear. 

“I can’t believe it. After all this time.” Then she shook her head, and wrapped professionalism back around her shoulders like a trusty cloak. She said, “Please come with me to my office, I’ll have Kameko brought to us there.” 

Kameko. Turtle child. Splinter didn’t know how he felt about that name, but kept it to himself. He was minutes—minutes— away now. If he absolutely had to go crashing through every single wall in this building one by one to find his child, that was entirely within his power. He would save that as the nuclear option, but not remove it from the table entirely. 

“He really is the sweetest thing,” Tomomi said. “No trouble at all, helpful as can be. Incredibly smart for his age—he’s leagues ahead of his classmates.” 

Like his brothers, Splinter thought, with a sort of dazed, wondering pride. All of them were happy little boys with distinct, dynamic personalities, but June—who had been a parent for one whole year longer than Splinter and had the added experience of helping to keep a dozen nieces and nephews alive, and was therefore the expert between the two of them—had often expressed surprise at how quickly the turtles tore through their learning material. 

Donatello was an unstoppable force that had yet to encounter an immovable object, but Raphael and Michelangelo were both well ahead of the curve, too. Splinter wondered, sometimes, if that had been part of Draxum’s design for them. 

“The younger kids adore him, though the older ones ostracize him a bit,” Tomomi was saying. “He’s had a number of failed placements, I’m afraid. Just bad luck.” She winced, as though the word left a bad taste on her tongue, and hurried to add, “It’s been hard on him since his friend moved away. He really deserves this. You’ll see.”

She was clearly trying to upsell the kid, as if to preemptively change Splinter’s mind about giving him up. As if there was any force in the universe that could even dream of being strong enough to compel him to do that. 

The orphanage as they walked through it was noisy. Kids in clothes that were second-hand but clean and well-fitting chased each other down hallways and in and out of rooms at speed. The building itself showed the inevitable wear and tear that came of hordes of children putting their marks on the place, but it was not dirty, or drafty, or in any sort of disrepair. No one looked hurt or underfed. There was a comfortable amount of clutter, plush toys and books and electronics scattered about the den they passed by. In all corners of the house there was shrieking and laughter and the thunder of little running feet. 

Yoshi was feeling a hundred thousand things right now, all of them in immediate conflict with each other and jostling for first place, but relief was chief among them. He had, in a shadowy corner in the back of his mind, feared the worst upon hearing his child was living in an orphanage. At a glance, the bulk of those fears were dispelled. It was good to know that he probably would not have to raze this place to the ground for their poor treatment of Blue. He could not imagine that would endear him to Helena. 

Tomomi leaned into an open doorway and called out, “Ren, please find Kameko and have him meet me in my office, okay? It’s important that he comes quickly.”

“Okay, Miss Toto!” someone called back, and then a tiny otter yokai went zipping away.

“I don’t know all of his hiding spots, I’m afraid,” the matron murmured, opening another door further down the hall and inviting him inside. “I don’t want to take you on a wild goose chase and waste a second more of your time. You’ve waited long enough already.”

“Thank you,” Splinter said. He sank into the seat she offered him and twisted his fingers, a nervous tic that his eldest son had inherited from him directly. “You said—he’s ostracized by the older kids? Why?”

Tomomi moved around the office, preparing cups of tea with hot water from an electric kettle. She said, “Yokai are very superstitious, as you well know.” Splinter did not know, actually, but nodded to maintain the ruse that he had been a rat yokai his entire life. “Turtles are viewed as—well, lucky. But since every single one of Kameko’s placements failed for some reason or another, some of the children decided he must be an omen for bad luck instead of good. It’s silliness, Hamato-san. But as much as he claimed it never bothered him, I’m sure it must have.”

Splinter had to take a moment to absorb that. Blue was a miracle. The fact that he was alive at all—the Hamato clan in its entirety must have spent every scrap of its allotted good fortune for the next billion year

Bad luck, he thought with a bewildered scoff. Where?

He held the teacup between his hands but forgot what to do with it. He was doing his best to listen to Tomomi but all of his attention craned toward the door instead. Riveted to each pair of footsteps that thundered past, each bright, energetic voice, each unfamiliar spark of qi… 

Splinter stopped breathing a second before a knock sounded on the doorframe. 

“Miss Toto,” a young voice called. “Renren said you wanted to see me?”

Tomomi glanced at Splinter sidelong and then called back, “Come on in, sweetie. There’s someone here who wants to meet you.”

He was unaware of moving, but somehow Splinter turned in time to watch the door rattle open, and there he was. 

In a neat coral pink and cream-colored jinbei, knees dirty from playing outside. Not quite grown into his stripes yet, still huge bright red crescents that took up most of his face. Eyes the same color as Donatello’s, the same shape as Splinter’s. Alive. Healthy. Small for his age. The brightest thing in this little riverside town. 

Leonardo. Blue. 

A painfully dislocated piece of Splinter’s long-broken heart clicked neatly back into place.  

The boy blinked and then smiled widely. He was all at once perfectly charming, happy to be standing there. Tomomi smiled back at him like a knee-jerk reaction and ushered him inside. 

“Hi!” Blue said brightly. “Nice to meet you!” 

Splinter could only sit there and take him in. His smile. The sound of his voice. He was so alive. 

“Kameko, this is Hamato Yoshi-san,” Tomomi said, steering the turtle closer to Splinter’s seat. “He’s come all the way from the human world to find you.” 

Blue’s smile faltered for a split-second, giving away his confusion. He had probably been fed a lot of lines from people looking to adopt a lucky turtle into their family over the last eight years, but this one was brand new. 

It was hard to explain to his little face that he had been—left behind. That Splinter had spent the entirety of his life mourning him. That looking at him was like looking at a ghost. Splinter did the best he could, grateful that Tomomi stepped in to pick things up wherever he faltered. With her help, he didn’t make an entire mess of the conversation.

“I have brothers?” was the first question Blue asked when they had finished. “I really do?”

“Yes, you—here, you can look,” Splinter said clumsily, offering his phone again. Offering anything. 

The turtle looked up into his face, and then over at Tomomi, and only took it after their combined reassurances. He was hesitant with the device even then, as though half-expecting Splinter to change his mind and berate him for handling it at all. 

But when the camera roll came up, Blue’s breath hitched, and all his uncertainty blew clean away. He blew up one of the photos and swiped through them that way, full-screen snapshots of a life he had missed out on. He stared intently at each picture as though doing his best to memorize each one in as much time as he was allowed to look. 

“What,” he started to ask, and then darted a quick glance up at Splinter again. Splinter nodded, heart in his throat, and Blue dared to continue, “What are they like?”

Carefully, Splinter shifted closer, until he and his son were side by side. Reaching around him, Splinter said, “Raphael is your biggest brother, and a year older than you. He may appear spiky and imposing, but he is actually very sensitive, and fond of stuffed animals and Barbie movies. I call him Red because of his rosy diamond patterns.” 

Blue mouthed ‘Raphael,’ drinking him in. 

The next few pictures were a blurred mess, Splinter’s attempt at taking photos while managing chaos as his boys helped in the kitchen the morning of April’s tenth birthday. Finally he landed on a clear one of Orange, covered in a dusting of flour, a comically large mixing bowl of funfetti cake batter in his arms that he had insisted he could handle without help. 

“This is Michelangelo. He is the youngest, only seven now. He is silly and spirited and will probably take over the world one day. We’ll all be better off with him in charge, I think. He would work all day long to win a single smile from someone he loves. Can you guess what his nickname is?”

Blue traced his little brother’s sunny spots with his eyes, overwhelmed. Still he guessed correctly, a soft-spoken, “Orange.” 

“Yes,” Splinter said. “Our crazy Mikan.” 

“Then this is—” Blue said, swiping on his own to a picture of the only remaining sibling. “Purple?” 

“Mm. Donatello. He is about a minute older than you, if that. He is smarter than any one hundred people put together, and creates spectacular things out of scraps and discards. But he struggles to make himself understood, so often opts out of talking at all. It does not mean he does not have anything to say.” 

This final photo rattled Blue completely, because there was an obvious likeness there. Donatello’s striking eyes were a mirror image of Leonardo’s own. There was no argument to be had about it—they were related. 

Remembering Purple’s burdened little hope, Splinter can’t help but add, “I once made the comment to him that the two of you could be twins, because you hatched together, and you were inseparable for every moment after. Donatello has latched onto the idea. And because of who he is as a person, I’m pretty sure he will die on that hill.”

Tomomi looked politely confused by the slang, but Blue huffed out an involuntary laugh, which was Splinter’s goal in the first place. 

“What’s, um,” Blue asked, “my name? Those ones—they all match. They’re artists. We talked about them in class once. Did I—did I match, too?”

“You did,” Splinter replied at once, trying to sound completely normal about the question. “I named you Leonardo. You were fearless, you wanted to see everything, you wanted to be everyone’s friend. Nothing could slow you down.” He reached out, telegraphing every inch of the move as he made it, and cradled that precious striped face in one careful hand. “My little lion. My Baby Blue.”

Leonardo didn’t cry, though it looked like he would like to. He reached up and seized Splinter’s wrist in both hands instead, clinging with the disproportionate strength Splinter was used to from raising his brothers. The four turtles were meant to be weapons, genetically altered to that end, but Splinter had taken one look at the freshly mutated babies and instantly resolved that he would secure a normal life for them if it was the last thing he ever did.  

He felt every inch of that resolve rekindled in this moment. He would do anything. He would topple a hundred laboratories, fight a thousand warrior alchemists, survive a million rounds in the Battle Nexus. If that was what it took to keep his Blue, to bring him home. He would do all of that in a heartbeat. 

“Well,” Tomomi said, unselfconscious about the tears she was blotting away, “let’s just get a few things signed away, and Kame—ah, Leonardo can start the first day of his new life! Sweetie, how about you go and get your things packed? You can say goodbye to your friends, too.” 

Blue pressed his cheek more firmly into Splinter’s palm, not wanting to go. Not wanting to test the limits of this strange, perfect dream. Splinter understood completely, and would prefer that his second-youngest child never left his sight again. 

But he didn’t want Blue to be afraid. He didn’t want to teach him fear.

So Splinter packed away his own anxieties and said, “Why don’t you hold onto my phone for me? It seems I will have my hands full with paperwork. It would be a lot of help.”

“Okay,” the little turtle said, reluctantly drawing away. He kept the phone in a tight grip. “I’m a good helper. And a quick packer! I’ll be right back!” 

“Don’t forget to say goodbye!” Tomomi called after him, but she was only talking to an empty doorway, the door itself left open and Leonardo’s running footsteps already halfway down the hall. “I wish I could bottle up some of that energy and keep it for a rainy day,” she said lightheartedly, getting up to close the door herself.

“I know what you mean,” Splinter said, fully sincere.  

“We really don’t have a lot for you to sign here, since the Chamber has already processed the lion’s share of the paperwork, and he’s rightfully yours to begin with,” Tomomi explained. “I just need you to hear a few things.” 

Splinter nodded, giving her his complete, undivided attention for the first time since he arrived. She didn’t seem to know what to do with it, flustered as she shuffled through a drawer of file folders.

“Ka—Leonardo,” Tomomi corrected herself again ruefully, “has had a rather hard time. I’ll give you a copy of his file, since he’ll pop back in here at any moment, and I hate to discuss it in front of him, but it’s important for you to fully understand. He’s been handed a lot of disappointments in his life. Please be patient. It might take him a long time to really trust you.”

“Then it’s a good thing we have the rest of our lives,” Splinter said firmly. “Blue could be a crazy man-eating alien for all I care—but if he’s going to terrorize humans, he can do it at home.”

The pangolin yokai laughed. “I’ll quote you on that. I also wanted you to be aware that we had a bit of a scare recently. He used to go into town to practice kendo every evening. A few nights ago, some of the other students decided to run around and cause trouble by the hearth,” her curt tone made it clear what she thought about that, “and started a fire that consumed the house. Leonardo was one of two children trapped inside.” 

“A fire?” Splinter parroted, halfway out of his seat in a second. He thought of the densely populated town down the way, the rows of houses he had passed that were all made of wood and straw and rice paper. Houses that would go up like tinder with a single misplaced spark. 

His baby, in a burning house. 

“He was rescued, and only sustained some minor burns and smoke sickness,” Tomomi was quick to reassure. “We had the boys both seen by a healer first thing. I’m letting you know because I would want to know, and Leonardo is unlikely to mention it at all.”

For a moment, Splinter could only imagine the horrifying what-if scenario; what if Leonardo hadn’t been rescued? What if Splinter’s dream had come a day too late? What if they had discovered Leonardo had been alive and that they had already lost him a second time? What if they had never discovered him at all, and he had died as a child that everyone believed nobody wanted?

Yoshi, he could almost hear his mother scolding him, clear as day, what good does it do you to think about that? It did not happen. Life is happening now. You will miss it if you don’t pay attention. 

“Yes,” he said belatedly, bobbing his head. “Right. Anything at all you feel is important, please tell me.”

They only had ten or so minutes to talk before Blue came back at top speed. Along the way he had collected that little otter yokai, as well as a fluffy owl in a pink yukata and a lizard whose green scales shimmered into a dull yellow as Splinter watched. 

“Koko’s leaving again?” the lizard demanded. “Is Ren gonna get that whole room to himself now? That’s not fair.”

“Shut up,” the owl said to her sharply, then turned to ask, “Is he really leaving, Miss Toto?”

“I’m afraid so, Susumu,” the matron said. “Have you all said your goodbyes, darlings?”

The question caused the otter child to burst into tears instantly. Leonardo was quick to drop his bag, shove Splinter’s phone into the pocket of his shorts, and scoop his little foster sibling’s face up in his hands. 

“Renren, don’t cry! How am I supposed to be brave if the bravest person I know is crying, huh?”

“I’m not crying,” the otter sobbed miserably, “I’m just, just so happy for you!”

“Great, I won’t even have to miss you, because Ren’s gonna keep repeating every single stupid thing he’s ever heard you say,” the owl complained, but she put her winged arms around them both and squeezed. “Bye, Koko. I hope these are your people for real this time.”

“Thanks, Suzy,” Blue replied, bonking their heads together lightly. “Take care of yourself or I’ll haunt your dreams!”

“Haunt your dreams,” Ren parroted thickly. 

“And if you see Snowy—” Blue added in a quieter voice. 

“I’ll tell him everything, don’t worry,” Susumu said, and hefted Ren away with her when she stepped back into the hall. 

That left the lizard girl, who looked as though she wanted to shrivel into a tiny bug and disappear through the floorboards with the attention of everyone else focused on her. Shoulders hunched, she whacked Leonardo in the shins with her long tail. 

“I think you should start biting people,” she announced.

“Niji,” Tomomi said warningly. 

The lizard lifted her chin, scales shifting from yellow to defiant red. “I mean it. If this new dad is mean just bite the hell out of him. Then he’ll send you back here and no one else will want you and we can age out of the system together and go start a gang.”

“Niji!” 

“Deal,” Blue said, and they shook on it. It was precious. 

Later, when all goodbyes had been made and Blue had been cried on by the pangolin matron and it was finally just the two of them making the journey back into town, Blue looked up at Splinter and said, “I won’t really bite you, Hamato-san. I just wanted to make Niji feel better. She tries to sound mean but she worries a lot.” 

“You have my full permission to take a bite out of any grown-up who tries to hurt you in any way,” Splinter said, smiling at him. He was carrying his child’s bag over his shoulder with one hand, the other clutched tight in both of Blue’s. “And you can call me whatever makes you comfortable, but Hamato-san is a little stuffy, don’t you think? If you don’t want to try ‘dad,’ how about Splinter?”

“Splinter?” Leonardo bounced on his feet. “Is that a code-name? Do you have a secret identity?”

The walk was long, but it went by quickly, peppered by question after question once Blue seemed to realize Splinter did not mind answering them. 

Where do you live? Have you always lived there? What’s California like? What’s New York City like? Do you know lots of humans? Are they nice? Who’s April? Will my brothers like me? 

Splinter answered, and explained, and reassured. Mostly, he listened to Blue’s animated voice that did its best to fill any empty space it found. Blue was not the jaded, angry child that Splinter himself once was, even if he had just as much—if not more—reason to be. But he was not a naïve boy, either. Hope had been all but trained out of him by now, the way it had clearly been trained out of Niji back at the orphanage. It was still there, clinging on with the tips of its fingers, but only just. 

And when Splinter tilted his head back and laughed at the clever joke Blue came up with on the spot, he saw that fragile little hope peeking out at him in the form of a crooked smile, shy and earnest and daring. 

Afternoon had given way to evening by the time they arrived at the edge of town where the cab was waiting. The driver, a skeleton yokai, was a local, and seemed happy to idle there and let the meter run since it was on the City’s dime. 

He glanced up from his sudoku book when Splinter and Blue approached and belted out, “Well, look who it is! Hey, kiddo!” 

“Hi Benny!” Blue shouted back. “¿Cómo estás?”

“Estoy bien, niño. And you’re doing just fine, too, huh? Guess I won’t be giving you many rides anymore. Hopefully this one sticks.”

Despite his flippant tone, the last remark was clearly aimed at Splinter. Splinter, for his part, held his son’s hand a little tighter and tried not to let the implications sting. Blue was so used to being shuttled back and forth that he was on first-name basis with the guy doing the shuttling. Blue had a reputation in this town as being an unwanted, oft-returned orphan. 

Splinter was simultaneously offended by anyone who would deem his precious child an unworthy addition, and endlessly grateful he had not been snatched up before his family had a chance to claim him. 

“This one,” Splinter said, flinty, “will stick.”

The driver muttered something in Spanish that made Blue muffle giggles behind his hand, and Splinter magnanimously decided to ignore that. The two grown-ups affected a playful antagonism for the duration of the hour and a half car ride, bantering back and forth, because anything that made Blue forget himself enough to lean forward against his seatbelt and fill the cab with chatter was worth doing. 

Benny did not let them go after dropping them off until Splinter agreed to bring the children to visit Benny’s cousin’s restaurant in Neo Edo sometime soon. Only then did he lower a bony hand out the driver’s side window so that Blue could bounce forward and bump their fists together.

“Nos vemos, chiquito,” the skeleton cabbie said fondly. “Have a good life, got it? We’ll have problems if you don’t.” 

He pointed warningly at Splinter, letting him know exactly who the problems would be had with.  

“See you, Benny!” Leonardo said. His eyes were wet, but he did not let his bright smile slip an inch. Splinter had worked with professional actors less talented than this nine year old boy. “I’ll be good, promise!”

“You are already good,” Splinter couldn’t help but interject, brushing a hand over the crown of the little turtle’s head. “That’s quite enough of that. Let’s be happy instead.” 

——

Raphael’s initial impression of his newest little brother was that he was very brave. 

He was tiny, not much bigger than Mikey, with bright yellow stripes on his arms and legs, and two big red ones on his face that curved over his cheeks and eyes. Pops carried him into the lair when he first brought Leonardo home, because the tunnels that wound to and around their house were dark and maze-like. Sometimes Raphie got lost in them if he strayed too far and he’d lived there forever. 

Raph remembered thinking how small Leo was, in a huge, confusing place, surrounded by people he had never met before. It would have been overwhelming for anybody, but he didn’t cry at all. He smiled instead, big and silly, like there was nothing in his whole life he needed to be scared of, actually. 

As Raph got to know him, he realized that Leo very rarely wasn’t smiling. 

He was even smiling a little bit as he poked his head through Raphie’s doorway in the middle of the night.  

“Hi,” Leo whispered, even though he could tell Raph was awake. 

He was doing that thing he always did, greeting first and then hanging back to make sure he was welcome. He never just walked into a room or jumped into a conversation. Raph probably wouldn’t have noticed Leo did that if he hadn’t heard Aunt Junie and Pops talking about it a few days ago. 

Raph wiped his eyes on his blanket quickly and tried to sound like he hadn’t been crying. 

“Hi, Leo. C’mere.”

The smaller turtle crossed the room at a run, climbing up into the bed and under the offered comforter. Raph pulled it up over both their heads when he was settled. The dark, warm space beneath the blanket felt the way Raph imagined the inside of his shell would feel if he could hide there. He squeezed Lamby until she glowed from the star on her belly and laid her between them so they had just enough light to see each other by. 

It was a familiar ritual for Raph. It was what he always did for Mikey and Donnie when they sought him out after bedtime. 

“Are you okay?” Leo asked in his quietest voice. 

“I’m okay,” Raph assured him quickly, feeling stupid about the tacky feeling on his cheeks and his puffy eyes. “Don’t worry about Raph.” When Leo’s brow wrinkled, not comprehending why he shouldn’t worry if he felt like it, Raph quickly said, “What about you, buddy? Why are you up?”

He had definitely been asleep when Raph had peeked in on him and Donnie earlier, but that didn’t mean a whole lot. Leo only seemed to sleep for a couple hours at a time. He always dragged his feet at bedtime, as though a good night’s rest was a concept that applied to other turtles, but not to him. If he didn’t share a room with his twin, it would probably be impossible to convince him to go to bed at all. Raph wasn’t looking forward to the contest of wills they’d probably have every single evening once Leo’s bedroom was finished.  

‘Miss Toto says I’m a night owl,’ Leo had announced at breakfast during his first week at home when Pops asked him how he slept. ‘I don’t know what kind of turtle that is.’ 

Mikey giggled, and Donnie said, ‘It’s not a kind of turtle, it’s an idiom.’

Overly-offended, Leo squawked, ‘You can’t just call people idioms!’

The conversation got so silly from there that Pops forgot about asking in the first place. Leo was really good at making people forget they asked questions. But that just made Raph hold onto his questions really tight until he got an answer. Even if it didn’t really matter—he didn’t want Leo thinking he could get away with sneaking around it when it did matter. 

His little brother’s eyes were big and dark in the blanket cave. Sure enough, he didn’t try to weasel out of answering. 

“Sometimes I lived in places where I couldn’t sleep,” he said. “I got used to it.” 

“Why couldn’t you?” Raph asked, frowning. 

“In one house it was really noisy,” Leo said easily enough. “The badger family that lived there was crepuscular. That meant they mostly were awake before the sun came out. Just a little bit of noise is enough to wake me up, so I started being crepuscular , too. Only kendo practice and all of my school classes were in the daytime, so it didn’t work out.” 

To Raph, that sounded a lot like Leo wasn’t able to sleep at night and didn’t have time to sleep during the day. He can feel anger stirring deep in his heart, because it wasn’t fair. That badger family got to have Raph’s brother when he should have been here, and they didn’t even take care of him. How hard could it have been to give one little turtle a quiet place to rest? Pops found a quiet place for four of them in New York City.  

He reached around Leo to lay a hand flat on his carapace. The scutes there were hard and smooth, unlike Donnie’s spiny, leathery shell and Raph’s rough spiky one. It was slightly flatter than Mikey’s domed shape, but otherwise entirely familiar. And it was second-nature to rub in slow up-and-down motions, because that’s just what you did with little turtle shells when the little turtles inside couldn’t sleep. 

Leo blinked a couple times, all fast and surprised, as if he’d never had a shell-rub before in his life. Raph hoped that wasn’t true. 

“Why are you up?” Leo asked, never one to be waylaid for long. 

Fair was fair. Raph felt embarrassed about it, but since Leo had answered his question, he said truthfully, “I had a bad dream.”

He was maybe a little bit prepared for Leo to laugh or make fun or—something. But Leo said, “Sorry, Raphie. Bad dreams are the worst. Do you want to talk about it, or talk about something else?”

It sounded very practiced, like he had either said it a lot or heard it a lot before tonight. But it still loosened a tight little fist deep in Raph’s chest somewhere that was clutching really hard to worry. 

Carefully, each word picking its tentative way out, Raphie described the dream he’d had the best he could. It had already faded from memory for the most part. The definite edges were gone and all that was left was the nightmare soup—the dark room and his pounding heart and the loneliness that was big enough to eat him whole if it wanted to. 

“I dreamed I didn’t have anybody,” he mumbled out. “I was all alone. It felt like I’d be alone forever.”

“I had one like that before,” Leo said quietly. “I ran all the way to Snowy’s house to make sure he was there. He let me in through his window and we had a sleepover. Why didn’t you have a sleepover with Donnie or Mikey? You wouldn’t even get in trouble for leaving the house like I did since they’re just right down the hall.” 

“I’m the biggest,” Raph said, the truth of his life that had always been and always would be. “I’m responsible for you bozos. I look after you three, not the other way around.” 

He made sure Leo knew it wasn’t a bad thing, poking him playfully on the end of his beak until he scrunched it up. It wasn’t a bad thing. It was the best thing about being Raph. 

“All by yourself?” Leo asked. “Everybody needs help. Even Jupiter Jim has a sidekick.”

Ever since his siblings had shown him those movies, Leo was a big fan. And it was hard to argue his logic, because Red Fox was a character they all loved beyond reason, and Raph would never dream of saying Jupiter Jim didn’t need her. 

But it was different. 

Raph knew that he could be bossy. He didn’t mean to be. Sometimes it took Donnie crossing his arms and baring his teeth to make Raph realize he’d been nagging. Sometimes he didn’t know until Mikey started shouting that Raph had been talking over him. He really didn’t mean to. 

He just hated not knowing what was going to happen. Every accident and surprise—Donnie wandering out of his room for bandaids when his latest build managed to cut past his gloves, Mikey’s experimental stir fry setting off the smoke alarms, Pops juggling too many things at once and dropping something that shattered on the floor—made Raph feel sick. It made him feel unsafe. 

“I just want to be careful,” Raph managed to force out. “That’s all. I don’t want anything bad to happen. I don’t want it to be my fault. I don’t want to mess up and let you guys down. I don’t wanna be—”

Alone. 

Leo nodded solemnly, his cheek pressed against the pillow. Eyes all big and serious and older than the face they peered out of. 

“You’re the best big brother I’ve ever met,” he said, sounding so certain that Raph was a second too slow to doubt him. “You care so much. You care enough for a hundred turtles. I didn’t know anybody could have a heart that big.”

Raph blinked, feeling fresh tears sting his eyes and slide down his face. Donnie would have frozen in distress, like the whole world stopped spinning when one of his siblings was hurting and Donnie stopped spinning right along with it. Mikey would have jumped in for a sticky octopus-style hug, because there was nothing broken that he couldn’t fix by wrapping his arms around it and holding on tight. 

Leo didn’t freeze and he didn’t jump in. He landed somewhere in the middle of those extremes, shuffling closer and putting his problem-solving face on. He tugged on a corner of the sheets beneath them until enough of the blanket came up that he could use it to wipe Raph’s face free of tears. He did everything so earnestly, as if each tiny moment meant the world to him.  

“But guess what?” he went on. “Everybody cares about you that much, too. I can’t even think of something you could do that would make us not want to see you every single day. If you were ever alone it’d only be ‘cause you got lost, and then we’d just burn the whole city down to find you again. We’d never leave you behind.” 

Leo smiled, not the big shining one. This one was different, lopsided and sweet. Raph had only seen this smile of Leo’s a handful of times and it was already so important to him. 

“You know that in your heart, I think,” Leo said. “You just get stuck in your head, that’s all.”

“Yeah,” Raph whispered, feeling wobbly and see-through. 

“It’s okay, Raphie. I can remind you. Just give half of what you’re worried about to me and we’ll share it. I’m on your team! I’m your sidekick! Nothing’s as scary when you have backup. As long as I’m here you don’t have to be scared of anything.” 

Raph’s words got stuck in his throat. He had no idea what he might have said if they hadn’t. Instead he pulled Leo in snug against his plastron, safe beneath his arm. Lamby ended up smushed between them and her glow turned off. Leo wasn’t afraid of the dark, so it was for Raphie’s sake when he worked the stuffed animal free and squeezed the light in her middle back on. 

Maybe Raph cared enough for a hundred turtles, but Leo was brave enough for a thousand. He wasn’t afraid of anything. 

“Deal. And as long as I’m here,” Raph said, “you can sleep.”

“Raphie, I told you,” Leo complained. “I’m a night-owl-badger-turtle. Can I just play Professor Layton on your DS? I’ll be really quiet.”

But Raph knew all the tricks. He put his hand back on that slim shell and scritched idly along the blue-patterned scutes. Leo’s eyes drooped almost immediately, though his big frown was slower to fade. He was so small and so stubborn and Raphael loved him completely.

“Everything you wanna do tomorrow will still be there when you wake up,” he said, borrowing those words straight from Pops, as well as the fond tone he said them in. His own bad dream was the last thing on his mind. It was easy to smile and add on, “You can sleep. Raph’s not gonna let anyone bother you. I’m on your team, too.”

Leo didn’t reply right away. He leaned back enough to look up at Raph as though he was waiting for him to take it back. When he didn’t, because of course he didn’t, Leo curled his arm tighter around Lamby and tucked his head back under Raph’s chin and didn’t say anything at all. 

Raphael imagined what it would have been like to grow up together—having Leo’s certainty and cleverness in his corner when Raph didn’t know what to do, Leo’s courage and silliness when Raph was scared, Leo’s smile that made the darkness shrink no matter how big and impossible it seemed to be at first. 

Imagining it made Raph’s heart ache. He thought about the future instead, and how they’d live in it together forever, and keep each other safe and make each other brave.

When Leo finally dozed off, Raph was only a few minutes behind him. He didn’t have any more bad dreams.

——

Sometimes Mikey felt like he had to shout to be heard. 

Raph and Donnie were his big brothers, and they were also his best friends and secret-keepers and partners-in-crime, but Mikey was their little brother first. He just wished that wasn’t the only thing he was. 

Donnie liked Mikey’s company and never kicked him out of his room, but Mikey wasn’t allowed to touch anything in there, because Donnie didn’t know how to share. Raphie loved to carry Mikey when he got tired or the stormwater runoff in the tunnels was steep, but he didn’t seem to understand that sometimes Mikey didn’t want to be carried. He could walk just fine on his own! He could outrun all of his siblings, actually, without even breaking a sweat. 

Michelangelo knew that he was loved—he had never wasted a single second wondering about that—and he loved his family so much that he could fill the sky with it the way the sun filled it with light in the summertime. 

But he wasn’t listened to. It would be nice to just be listened to sometimes. 

Today Mikey watched avidly as Leo showed off his cool sword. He had been folded into their afternoon martial arts training seamlessly, like he’d always been there. Dad assessed his skill-level and announced that he was not very far behind the rest of them at all, because he had been training in something he called kenjutsu ever since he was little. 

“You are little, pipsqueak,” Raphie said playfully.

“Everyone’s a pipsqueak to you!” Leo retorted.

Splinter smiled proudly and said, “My Blue. You’ll be unstoppable one day, you know that?” Leo radiated joy at Dad’s approval and threw himself headlong into learning ninjutsu alongside his kendo, eager to do well. So he split his time, and in the last half Leo broke away from his brothers to the other side of the dojo, where he practiced the sword. 

He hadn’t brought much with him when he moved in, but his bokken was his pride and joy. It was made of shiny red wood and the handle was wrapped in bright blue cord and there was a little white rabbit charm dangling from the guard. 

“Last year Snowy’s big sister snuck up to the human world for a senior trip with her friends, and she brought us both souvenirs when she came back,” Leo had explained the charm happily. “Like hush money, only bunny-shaped! So way better.”

Dad snorted, and Leo seemed to grow two inches taller at having made him laugh. 

Unlike everything else he owned, Leonardo didn’t offer the sword out to be held or touched. It wasn’t quite like the way Donnie guarded the things important to him, because Mikey didn’t think Leo would hiss at anybody for getting too close—Leo probably wouldn’t even get mad. But at seven whole years old, Mikey knew a thing or two about hurt feelings. If Leo wasn’t willing to snap at somebody for taking his stuff, Mikey would just have to do it for him. 

An hour into training, Mikey was about to snap for a different reason. 

“Mikey, you’re doing it wrong,” Raph said again. “You keep going too fast.” 

“I know, ” Mikey said back through his teeth. He’d done it a billion times, he knew that. Raph didn’t need to keep saying it. 

“If you know, then do it the right way,” his biggest brother replied, not giving an inch. “I know cartwheels are fun but we’re doing kata now. You can play later.”

Frustration boiled inside him. Mikey knew the right way to do the forms, but he was bored. He wanted to do it faster, he wanted to add a flip or a handstand, something to make it more interesting. He didn’t like training at all sometimes—Donnie was quiet and unenthusiastic, and Raphie was bossy and made them start over until they got it right. It was better when April was there, because April could quell the boringest and bossiest of brothers with a single sharp look and then take Mikey out for froyo, but their sister only joined in on the weekends. 

Leo glanced sidelong at Splinter as he slowly began to lean his bokken up against the wall. When Dad didn’t stop him, he put the sword down quicker, then trotted over to fearlessly interject himself into the middle of the brewing storm. Donnie watched him go with round eyes, always one to remain adamantly on the outside of any confrontation.  

“That was really cool, Mike,” Leo called out, beaming. 

Mikey, who had been clenching his fists and preparing himself for another big brother to gang up on him, blinked. 

“Huh? Really?”

“Yeah, really! I can kind of do a handstand, but I can’t flip all around like that.” He thumped his knuckles on Raph’s carapace as he passed by, but his shining smile was all for Mikey. “Can you teach me?”

“Really?” Mikey said again, and then excitement swooped in before he could be confused for longer than a second. Bouncing on his toes, he exclaimed, “Of course, Lee! I can teach you right now!”

“I still have to learn this tricky ninja stuff first,” Leo said. “Can we do it after training instead?” 

“Sure! I can help you with the kata, too, I’m really good at it,” Mikey said eagerly, falling into line beside him. He demonstrated the proper form carefully, so that his newest big brother could follow along. “Like that, see? You’ll get it! Try with me this time!” 

He didn’t realize he was mimicking the same thing Raphael told him every time he fumbled in the dojo—his mind jumped straight to the first helpful thing he could say and that was it. He also didn’t catch the wink Leo sent at Raph over his head, or the way Raph’s shoulders loosened from where they had been bunched up by his ears, the way they always bunched up before a disagreement. 

When Leo first came home, Aunt Junie had said that they all needed to be patient with each other and give Leo time to adjust. Like when Piebald’s tank water needed to be changed and they had to do it a little bit at a time, because even a whole bunch of good, fresh and clean water would be bad for her all at once. 

Aunt Junie was right about everything, but maybe she just didn’t know Leo well enough yet. Maybe Leo wasn’t like Piebald at all, and jumping straight into a brand new tank was actually the best thing for him. 

Because Leo seemed so happy to be there, always smiling and in a good mood. Teasing Donnie like he knew exactly where to poke to elicit playful snaps instead of vicious ones—talking Raph’s ear off about the Disney movies their big brother watched with him and singing along once he knew the words—forming inside jokes and super-complicated extended handshakes with April within minutes of meeting her—following gamely wherever Mikey tugged him along to like he couldn’t wait to be a part of the fun. 

The immediate problem was that Donnie, Raph and April loved Leo just as much as Mikey did, and they all wanted to spend time with him, too. But they didn’t always want to spend that time doing the same things. That afternoon, it became an issue.  

“Me and Leo always watch a movie after lunch,” Raphie was saying, brow knit stubbornly. 

“Yeah, so let him do something else for a change,” April replied, poking Raph in the shoulder with the corner of her bedazzled phone case. “I told him about Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of Nimh and he wanted to read it. I downloaded the audiobook for us to listen to.”

“Can’t you do that later?”

“We’re building something,” Donnie bit out, impatient enough to speak up instead of just slinking away on his own. 

For his part, Mikey tugged on Leo’s sleeve. “Leeeee, color with meeee.”

Leo didn’t say anything to any of them. He seemed to be frozen in place by all their noise.

Once, when Mikey was way littler than he was now, Dad found a baby bird that had been swept through a grate into the tunnel during a heavy rain. He let Mikey hold it after Mikey promised he’d be careful. They emailed a video of the bird to a wildlife rescue person they found online who said that it looked about three weeks old, and had probably only just left the nest when it hurt its wing. It was a quivering palm-sized ball of brown feathers and beady eyes. Mikey could feel its frantic heartbeat in his hands. It didn’t look big enough to have left its nest. It was hard to believe anything that small could just be on its own in the world. 

Right now Leo reminded Mikey of that bird. His smile had faded to almost nothing, eyes round and worried under their bright red stripes. The longer the arguing went on around him the bigger and more worried his eyes got. 

Then Dad said, “ Enough.”

He had his disappointed frown on as he strode in from the kitchen, sleeves still rolled up from washing the dishes in the sink. He didn’t miss a beat in lifting Leo up into his arms.

“What did your Aunt June tell you all?” Dad said sternly. He included April in his pointed look, even though Aunt Junie was mom to her. “If the four of you can learn to share pizza and video games without killing each other, surely you can learn to share your brother’s time.”

They all shuffled, feeling scolded, and April was the one who said, “Sorry, Leon.”

“It’s okay!” Leo said immediately, smiling brightly at her. But he was still clutching Dad’s shirt with both hands and wasn’t squirming to get down even a little bit. It made Mikey feel bad all the way to the bottom of his stomach. 

“Why don’t you let Blue decide what he wants to do this afternoon?” Splinter suggested in that tone that made it obvious it wasn’t actually a suggestion. 

“Yeah, Leo, you should pick!” Mikey said right away. 

Leo hummed, looking much more like his normal self than he did a moment ago, but he still had one fist bunched in Splinter’s sleeve. Very, very carefully, like he was afraid it wasn’t the right thing to say, Leo offered, “Raphie, you said you’d show me how to skate. Can we?”

“Sure, big man, that sounds fun!” Raph said, all fast. He came over and put out his hands, and when Leo reached back, Splinter allowed the snapper to take him. Raph tossed Leo in the air and caught him again, surprising a squeaky noise out of him that became a giggle. The mood in the lair shifted back towards bright, like magic. “You’re gonna be skating circles around me in no time, Fearless.”

“I wanna watch!” Mikey shouted gleefully. And even though Donnie hated sports, he settled next to Mikey to watch, too, close enough that their shoulders bumped. When Mikey swayed playfully to the side, it made Donnie sway, too. 

April rolled her eyes, like it was very typical of one of her little brothers to want to waste the afternoon skateboarding, but she insisted upon getting pictures of Leo all kitted out in borrowed helmet and knee- and elbow-pads, in poses that got sillier and sillier by the second.  

The afternoon raced by like it had somewhere important to be, punctuated by the rolling and click-clacking of skateboard wheels on the wooden ramp. Leo learned to ollie and shuvit, picking up speed and gaining confidence as he went, but he also learned a lesson the rest of his siblings had learned years and years ago. 

He learned to trust Raph’s hands to catch him. He learned not to be scared of falling because Raph would always catch him. 

In no time at all, Leo’s laughter was bursting out of him in bright, ringing peals. It was easy to forget, just for a minute, that he hadn’t been right there with them all along.  

Mikey felt like there was a sun inside him, he was so happy. He didn’t know what to do with all of it, where he could possibly hold it. So he did what he always did when he felt too much. He popped inside his shell. 

From outside, there was an instant clatter and a thud, the fast-rolling sound of a loose skateboard shooting away, and April calling out, “Woah, Leo, are you—”

Then Mikey felt the familiar sensation of being picked up. His shell was compact and the perfect size for other little turtles to hold. Mikey felt warm and snug, and loved to be held, so he just curled up happily like a cat in a box. 

Outside, he heard them talking.

“He didn’t mean to!” Leo said, so fast it was all a jumble of words bumping into themselves. 

“Who didn’t—Mikey?” Raph said. “‘Course he did, he does that all the time.”

“No, he—he’s good, he doesn’t—” Leo sounded alarmingly like he was going to start crying—something Mikey hadn’t even known it was possible for him to do. “Please don’t let him get in trouble, he’s good. He’ll be good.”

“Of course he is good,” Splinter said, his voice coming closer from where he had been keeping an eye on them from the sofa. He sounded the way he did when Mikey or one of his brothers was sick, worry and love all twisted together. “All of my babies are good. Even when they are dissecting kitchen appliances or flooding the bathroom or sneaking the last donut out of the box that I had been saving, April.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” April said unconvincingly. “What’s a donut?”

“Mmm-hm. That crazy little citrus fruit you are holding is not in trouble, Baby Blue,” Splinter added. 

“Why would he be in trouble?” Raph asked, sounding like something was hurting him. 

“Sorry! I had different rules before,” Leo replied. The arms holding Mikey’s shell were tight, and he could hear the heart he was being held against racing, quick and frantic thump-thump-thumps. “I’m really sorry!”

“No one needs to be sorry,” Splinter told him gently. “No one has done anything wrong. And for future reference, in case you are confused, you will never be punished for hiding inside your shell. You are a turtle, and it is an important part of you. Would you scold a caterpillar for spinning a cocoon?”

“No,” Leo whispered. 

“There you are.”

There was a beat of silence, heavy and thick. Mikey wanted to come out and look around but he thought that if he interrupted the conversation they would start to talk about something else. 

“It wasn’t that bad,” Leo finally said. “I was only there for a little bit, the house where they—so it wasn’t that bad.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Donnie said in a loud voice. He said it like ‘judge’ meant ‘monster who bites people until they die,’ even though Mikey was pretty sure it didn’t.

It surprised Mikey at first when Donnie started interjecting loudly at things, because he never used to do that. His jokes were always ones slid in under his breath, and his smile when they made Mikey laugh would be quick and sideways and half-hidden in the collar of his bulky hoodie. 

Now he didn’t hide near as much as he used to, and was a lot less secretive about things he wanted his brothers to hear. Mikey thought that maybe he had wanted to be close to them all along, he just didn’t know how to get there. There wasn’t a bridge between where they were at and the island he ended up on. Then his twin came along. 

Aunt Junie called Leo an instigator. She said it laughingly, and told him he was just what this family needed. She was, after all, right about everything. 

“We’ll discuss it later,” Splinter said. He came closer, and Mikey’s stomach swooped as he was lifted up higher from the floor than he already was—Dad must have picked Leo up again, and Leo was still holding Mikey. “Come here, my little turtles. Ah-ah, you are not getting out of this, O’Neil. In fact, you must hug twice as hard so that your mother is here in spirit.”

Silliness was the best medicine. No gloomy mood could outlast six people cramming together for a big group hug. Raph tripped on the skateboard and almost toppled everyone over and the sudden lurch made Leo giggle. Mikey came out of his shell to join the embrace, managing to get one arm around Leo and the other around Donnie and squeezing for all he was worth. 

Mikey and his brothers kept close to each other even after Splinter left to take April home. A pillow fort was constructed in the TV room and they turtle-piled in there with all the best blankets and stuffed animals and snacks. Leo was quieter than usual and sat tucked against Donnie’s side, like he was absorbing his twin’s strength and stubbornness since his own had run out. 

“Hey, Leo?” Mikey asked, when the movie Bolt was over and Raph was snoring and Donnie was a tiny ball tucked under the snapper’s sprawled arm. Mikey knew that Leo would still be awake.

Sure enough, Leo said, “Yeah?” 

“Why don’t you cry when you’re sad?”

For a little while, the only sound besides Raph’s honking snores was the song playing on TV as the credits rolled. I made a wish upon a star, I turned around, and there you were, the song went. 

“People don’t like kids who cry,” Leo finally said. “No one will want me if I don’t behave.”

Mikey blinked, turning his head to find Leo’s face in the dark. His heart was twisting around unhappily in his chest. It hurt. 

“Raph cries all the time but we still want him,” Mikey said. “He’s Raph.”

“Yeah, of course,” Leo said quickly.

“And I cry, too,” Mikey added, the hurt moving up into his throat. “People want me.”

“Because you’re the best, Angie,” Leo told him. “You guys are the best.”

“Whoever told you that stuff before lied,” Mikey said, clinging to his hand. “They lied. You’re my Leo, and you belong here, and we want you. Don’t ever leave us no matter what. Okay?”

Leo nodded, short and punchy. He was shivering like he was cold. Mikey scooted over so he could curl into Leo’s side, because he was a lot of things, but he was a little brother first. And sometimes—when that meant that he was always welcome, and arms would always open for him, and he could snuggle in and be held tight no matter what—that was the best first thing to be. 

“Promise?” he checked.

Leo turned his face, so he could press his cheek to the top of Mikey’s head, and whispered, “Promise.”

The thing Mikey remembered the most vividly about that injured bird they once found was how restless it had been. How ready to fly it was. All it needed was room to get better and grow a little more. A safe place to land. 

‘Look at this guy,’ Dad had said the morning they released it, smiling at the eager noises happening in the shoebox in his hands, ‘ready to leave us in the dust.’ 

‘Will he come back?’ Raphie asked.

‘I don’t think so, my dear. This isn’t his home.’

It was Leo’s home, though. His place to come back to. They just had to keep showing him that they’d catch him. It wasn’t scary to fall down here, because someone would always catch him.  

——

A true photographic memory had never been proven, but Donatello was a scientific marvel in more ways than just the obvious. He remembered everything he had ever seen. The farther back his memories went the less clarity they retained, until they were mostly just emotion given body and movement—but they still were.

When Donnie, Mikey and Raphie found the shrine in Papa’s room, and Papa sat them all down to explain that they used to have another brother, who couldn’t be with them anymore, Donnie suddenly remembered a steady weight on his shell. He remembered not being able to settle for bed unless the weight was there, clicking and purring until they both drifted off to sleep. 

Oh, he thought, we’re orphans. 

The thought didn’t make sense, because Donnie knew what the definition of orphan was, and their parent hadn’t died. He had never abandoned them. He was, at that moment, gently wiping tears off Raphie’s face and trying to come up with answers for Mikey’s endless questions that didn’t all boil down to life is unfair. 

But it was the only word that felt weighty enough for the truth of it all. 

Donnie was a brother who had lost a brother. A twin who wasn’t a twin anymore. There wasn’t a word for that. He looked it up. 

And then, when Donnie was eight years old, he didn’t need a word for it anymore. 

When he had imagined Leonardo growing up, he imagined someone who was just like him in every way. Someone who understood him effortlessly because they were two halves of a whole. Ten minutes after meeting him again, Donatello felt silly about his initial hypothesis. 

Of course his twin would be his polar opposite—they filled in each other’s empty spaces. Leonardo, who was friendly and talkative, spoke up when Donnie’s voice failed him; Donatello, who was observant and defiant, had no trouble baring his teeth at every hurt that Leonardo would have let roll off his back. 

Leonardo lied with every inch of his body and he did it cheerfully; Donnie would always default to the truth even if a lie would have been kinder. Donnie wanted so badly to be close to his brothers but didn’t always know how to get there, a closed door standing between them that he didn’t have a key to; Leonardo had never met a locked door he couldn’t circumvent and pointed out a neat shortcut here, a handy window there. 

Leo took Donnie’s hand and led the way forward; Donnie held on tight and made sure Leo didn’t stumble, since he was always looking up and never down. 

They found each other in the middle. Maybe if they’d had that middle place all along, Donnie would be able to communicate better, and Leo wouldn’t need to pretend so much. Maybe that’s still the way things would be one day. Donnie imagined a drawing of them, purple leaking past his lines and blue leaking out of Leo, like Mikey’s watercolors mixing on the page, spreading until they filled every gap, completing the picture.

All four turtles were in the dojo, doing cool-down stretches. Mikey had skipped the post-exercise routine and moved on to rolling around on his carapace instead, singing Fireflies to himself with twice as much energy as Owl City. Raph just rolled his eyes and made sure to step around and over his littlest brother as he cleaned up. 

Splinter, who had been checking his phone repeatedly all afternoon, stood up swiftly and said, “You boys stay here and finish up. I think we’ll order in for supper today, so agree on something or I will order the worst soup you can think of. ”

Mikey stopped rolling and sat up with a horrified gasp, because he had opinions about soup. 

“Manhattan Clam Chowder!” 

Ignoring that, Splinter said, “I will be right back.”

Donnie watched Leo watch him go, and knew that his twin’s mind was racing even though his breezy smile hadn’t budged an inch. Leo worried constantly, maybe even more than Raphie did. He was always buzzing with what-ifs, like his brain was a jar filled with angry bees—what if he did something wrong? What if he made someone mad? What if he was too noisy, took too much at supper, didn’t help enough with chores, what if, what if, what if? 

Donnie knew, because sometimes Leo told him. After bedtime, when they had to whisper so Splinter’s keen ears wouldn’t catch them staying up late, sometimes Leo would ask, “Did I mess up today?” 

And Donnie would have to jerk his thoughts onto this new track—this crooked, narrow road that Leo was always running on, with its confusing roundabouts and bridges to nowhere and unpayable tolls. 

He wanted to say that Leo could mess up a billion times and still never reach the end of Donnie’s love. Like how the unobservable universe was so big that light from the Big Bang still hadn’t reached Earth from over there. It was as big as that. 

But Donnie struggled with words even when they weren’t monumentally important ones. And Leo’s face would look so afraid in the dim light of the glow-in-the-dark stickers on the ceiling, those constellations in Leo’s new room that matched the ones in Donnie’s down to the last star. He would be convinced that this was the day he did something bad enough that Papa sent him away. It didn’t matter that that would never happen, because even impossible things could be scary.  

So instead of what he wanted to say, Donnie would tell him, “You were good.” 

It would always make his brother smile and sink into the pillow, like all that worry was the only thing propping him up. Then they would talk about a hundred other things until they forgot to whisper, and Papa or Raph inevitably found them out and carted a giggling Leo or an unrepentant Donnie off to his own room. 

One day, Donnie was determined to make it stick. Even if Leonardo was the worst person in the whole world, he would still be Donatello’s person. That made him the best. It was unquantifiable. No one was a better subject matter expert than Donnie was. He’d stake the scientific reputation he didn’t have yet on it in a heartbeat. 

For now, he nudged Leo’s knee with his foot. 

“Hey,” Donnie said, “let’s be ninjas.”

Leo’s smile turned into the grin that Donnie preferred, the crooked laughing one. He only cared about good behavior when he thought he was being graded on it. Otherwise he was the first to encourage sneakiness, because if there was one thing Leonardo believed in, it was having all the information available all the time. 

Donnie knew that was how Leo kept himself safe in those other places he lived in before he came home, those places he didn’t like to talk about. The ones that taught him not to cry when he was sad and not to hide in his shell when he was scared. 

If there was one thing Donatello believed in, it was that Leo should feel safe, even if that meant breaking a rule or two or a hundred. 

“Where do you two think you’re going?” Raphie said suspiciously before they’d made it more than two steps. “Pops said to stay here.”

“Or else we’ll get gross soup,” Mikey piped up. “Instead of really good soup, like creamy chicken chili. Or minestrone!”

“Angie, it’s too hot outside for soup,” Leo said patiently, verbally dodge-rolling Raph’s question by humoring Mikey. “If we ordered a bunch of soup the delivery person would cry. You don’t want taco salad in a tortilla bowl? Or an Italian hero with extra pickled cherry peppers?”

Reminded of the whole wide world of food delivery possibilities, Mikey started rattling off all of his favorite meals without pausing for inconsequential things like air. Raph sighed, because it instantly became twenty times harder to agree on supper. Leo beamed up at him, like he didn’t just do that on purpose.

Donnie knew an opening when he saw one and slipped out of the dojo first, following the sound of Splinter’s voice to the front of the lair. 

“...haven’t told him you were coming. I did not want to give him a reason to be anxious all day,” Papa was saying, sounding anxious himself. “He’s so prone to worry, it just eats him up. I thought once you arrived, I would go back in and let him know you were here, and we’d—get it rolling fast, get him all swept up, so he didn’t have a chance to be afraid.”

“Dad knows best,” an unfamiliar voice said kindly. 

It made Donnie’s spine go straight, all of his attention sharpening to a point at this sudden proof of a stranger in his home talking about his twin. He inched forward on silent feet to peer around the corner. 

A big creature stood with Splinter, a few inches taller than him and covered from nose to tail in large overlapping scales. She had a curved spine that created a hunched-forward posture and a long narrow head similar to an anteater’s. With the big tote bag hanging off her arm and the green sundress she was wearing, she looked like an animal librarian straight out of one of Mikey’s chapter books. 

She didn’t seem dangerous. But Donatello watched her with narrowed eyes and wished he hadn’t left his bo behind in the dojo. 

“As for moving,” Splinter was saying, “I am still uncertain. My boys would be able to—to go to school, and make friends, and play in the sun. That would mean the world to me. But the house in Neo Edo needs a lot of work, and the Hidden Cities are dangerous, too. For a multitude of reasons.” 

“And you have family here in New York, as well,” the stranger said, her tone understanding. “It is a lot to consider. You haven’t brought up the possibility to the children yet?”

“I haven’t. Blue’s life has been in upheaval enough as it is. I wanted him to have more of a chance to get settled. Besides, it is not a decision that needs to be made right away. We can discuss it as a family and decide together.”

“Of course, Hamato-san,” the stranger said warmly. “These follow-up assessments are mandatory, and, I’ll admit, an excuse for me to visit with my little ones again. But there isn’t a doubt in my mind that you’re doing right by him.” 

Donnie let go of his suspicion just long enough to wonder about the possibility of moving away from New York City. He wouldn’t want to be apart from April and Aunt June for any extra amount of time. But it sounded like he would be able to go to school in that Neo Edo place and he would like that a lot. 

“Here I am,” Leo’s voice said in a whisper as he stepped up beside Donnie. He was holding his bokken across his shoulder, probably because he wouldn’t have had a chance to store it properly and come listen in on Papa’s conversation without Raphie catching him again. “What’d I miss?”

But he was already looking around the corner for himself, and that smiling expression he was wearing changed in a heartbeat to something pale and shocked. His arms fell to his sides. 

“Miss Toto? Why is she here?”

His voice was too loud. Both adults glanced over at where Donnie and Leo were standing, and Donnie felt caught. But Leo took a couple quick steps closer, dragging his sword behind him like he didn’t care at all that the shiny finish might get scuffed on the concrete. 

Papa looked pale himself somehow. “Blue—”

“Am I going back?” Leo said, getting louder. “Are you giving me back? Why? What did I do?”

“You didn’t do anything,” the stranger said, hands clutched tight in front of her chest. Her eyes were wide. “It’s okay, sweetheart.” 

“No, you said!” Leo shouted at Splinter. “You said, you said you wouldn’t, you said I could stay, you said I was good! I was good, I was! I did everything I’m supposed to!” 

“Baby, I would never send you away, ” Splinter said, arms open to scoop him up, but Leo stumbled backwards out of reach. Leo couldn’t hear him or anybody else, heaving in frantic gulping breaths. 

The sword in his hand started to glow, as if a light had turned on inside it and was shining through patterns carved up and down its length, even though the whole thing was solid wood and didn’t have any carvings a light could shine out of. The shine got brighter and bluer until Donnie had to squeeze his eyes closed against the glare. 

When he opened them again Leo was gone, but the light was left right where he’d been standing—a perfect circle cut out of thin air, the color of the sky in summertime. It was humming, the way things with an electrical charge hummed, and spinning as playfully as a pinwheel.

“Oh, my spirits,” Miss Toto breathed. 

“Did he just,” Splinter croaked out. 

Of course, Donnie thought, finally solving that big puzzle in the back of his mind.  

Donatello was the first of Leo’s siblings to notice the healed burns on his hands, if the others had noticed them at all. Faint discolorations, smoother than the rest of his textured skin. They didn’t seem to hurt anymore but Donnie worried about them anyway. 

He had gone straight to Splinter with his observations, hovering at the other side of the kitchen table waiting to be acknowledged; but Splinter had been too engrossed in the contents of a folder to notice the round eyes level with the tabletop staring unblinkingly at him, like a fox stalking a bird.

‘Papa,’ he said. Splinter jolted in his seat, slopping tea over the rim of his mug.  

‘Holy—Purple! You will give me a heart attack one day, and then who will feed you?’ He closed the folder and turned his chair, and Donnie trotted around to his side. ‘What’s up, buttercup?’

‘Leo burned his hands,’ Donnie said.  

Splinter’s face did something funny, and he asked quickly, ‘Did he hurt himself just now?’ 

‘No. They were there already. How?’ 

‘Ah. How did it happen?’ he clarified. Donnie nodded, and Splinter weighed his words for a moment before he said, ‘A few days before he came to live with us, the house where Blue took his kendo lessons caught on fire. But someone rescued him—plucked him and his friend right out of danger and left them safe in a basket of clean blankets. We are all very lucky.’ 

Donnie had shivered, and bonked his forehead against Splinter’s arm so his father knew to wrap him up in a tight hug until the shivering stopped. He didn’t want to think about Leo trapped in a fire, so instead he thought about the person who had rescued him. 

‘Who?’ he asked when he could manage it.

‘Who saved them? No one seems to know,’ Splinter said. ‘The boys only remembered a blue light.’ 

Leo saved himself, Donatello realized now. He always saved himself. It was the only thing that made sense. The proof was right in front of them, burning like a star in the living room. 

But now the edges of the circle were wobbling, and then compressing, the whole thing beginning to shrink. A door closing, with his twin on the other side. 

Donatello didn’t need to think about it. He heard a cut-off gasp from the scaly anteater, and Papa yelled “Purple!” but he was already running. He ducked his head to clear the top arc and hopped over the bottom, disappearing neatly through the blue seconds before it dwindled into nothing. 

In just one step, he had gone from the lair under New York to a big open countryside. He’d never seen so much greenery in his life. It was cooler here, and quieter—even with the rush of the river nearby, it was easily half the average decibel level of Manhattan. He could smell fish and sesame oil and salt, a hint of smoke, damp wood—town must have been behind him. Ahead of him, the footpath he was standing on winded away toward the water.

Donnie headed forward. There was a big house up the hill to his left and he could hear other children there. But the door hadn’t taken him to the house. It had led him here, trudging through mud and weeds along the bank, until he rounded the bend and found exactly who he was looking for. 

On the opposite shore, Leo was hiding under a rocky outcrop, where the stones of a towering cliffside formed a secret alcove. Sunken boulders in the water created a natural ford where Donnie could cross and he plunged right in. 

Leo must have heard him coming, but he stayed curled up small. He was crying so hard his face was red and his eyes were squeezed shut, which made Donnie’s eyes sting, too. He hated when his siblings cried. He hated not knowing how to fix it. One day he’d invent a solution for everything that hurt them.

Until then, he’d crawl into this muddy hole, and scratch his knees and palms on the rocks, and put his arms around his twin. It was the right thing to do because it was what Raphie and Mikey would do. It made Leo cry even harder, and that hurt Donnie’s heart more than anything else in his whole life ever had, but he just held on tight.  He’d be one of those stones that the river crashed against. Nothing would move him until he decided to move. 

When Leo quieted into hiccups and wet-sounding sniffles, Donnie thought it was safe enough to let go of him with one hand. He used the other to wipe Leo’s puffy face with the balled-up end of his purple sleeve. 

“Don’t leave again,” Donnie said. “You promised Mikey.”

“I don’t want to,” Leo choked out. “But they—” 

“That anteater wasn’t there to take you away,” Donnie told him matter-of-factly. “Otherwise Papa would have caused a scene. She was just there to visit. It sounds like we have a house around here somewhere, and Papa is thinking about moving. But he hasn’t decided yet. If we did move, you’d come, too.” 

Leo pulled back to stare at him, all dirty and wet and miserable. After a moment, he mumbled, “Miss Toto is a pangolin. Anteaters don’t have scales. You’re dumb.”

“You’re dumb,” Donnie replied, heart lifting like a balloon at Leo sounding more like Leo. “Papa will never let anyone take you away. You don’t have to be good all the time.” His twin’s eyes fell down to look at the muddy stones between them. He didn’t say anything, but Donnie could tell he didn’t believe it yet. So Donnie presented the facts: “Raph is bossy and acts like he’s right even when he’s wrong. Mikey never does what he’s supposed to and makes huge messes with his paints and cries when he gets in trouble. And I’m mean. And I bite. But Papa loves us, even when he says we make him want to tear his hair out. And he loves you.”

“How do you know?” Leo asked, like he’d like to be convinced, but he was still clutching at his old truths instead of this new one. 

“Because I know everything,” Donnie told him plainly. “I’m smarter than you and the older twin so you have to listen to me.” 

Leo made a quiet noise somewhere between crying and laughing. His eyes were gold like Donnie’s. Would that ever stop being amazing? Probably not. Here was Donnie’s other half, the most important part of his heart, back where he belonged. He really was dumb if he thought Donnie was ever going to lose him again.  

They walked hand in hand to the house on the hill, which turned out to be the orphanage where Leo used to live. A few of the kids in the yard gave them strange looks, but Leo didn’t stop to say hi to any of them, which told Donnie everything he needed to know. 

A boy with amphibian features stepped right in their way. He had big protruding eyes and webbed hands and a round, flat head. His mouth stretched from ear to ear when he opened it to call out, “Back already, Lucky?” 

It caused a twitch to pass through Leo’s whole body, not a flinch but not not a flinch, either. He smiled back automatically, and Donnie knew he was about to play along with whatever mean joke was being played on him, because Leo was smart and always knew what the quickest way out of a bad place was. 

But Donnie was smart, too. And he didn’t care about getting out as much as he cared about getting results.

He stopped in his tracks and twisted his head around on his neck in the way that always freaked April out. She said it made him look like an alien from a horror movie, so naturally Donnie practiced it in the mirror a bunch of times. 

He’d never had the chance to use it on anyone else until now. He was pleased with the way it made everyone in the yard stand really still. 

“You know turtles eat frogs, right?” Donnie said. “I heard they taste good with ginger and scallions.”

Heard from his baby brother who had an unhealthy obsession with the Food Network, anyway. 

The frog boy shut right up, his throat ballooning defensively—prey instinct to make himself a more difficult meal. 

“It was nice to see you guys,” Leo said brightly to the terrorized crowd of his former foster siblings, circling behind Donnie and pushing him bodily into the house. Once the door was closed behind them, he added, “They all think you’re an oni now! It was just a nickname, Tello.”

“Good,” Donnie said, smug. “And it’s not just a nickname if you hate it, Nardo.”

Leo took his hand again and led him down the hall. There was a landline phone in the matron’s office that they could use to call Papa. It seemed like a majority of the kids were out of the house, making the most of the sunny day, because they didn’t run into anyone else.

“It’s ‘cause I’m bad luck,” Leo said suddenly. “Turtles—you know, in the stories—they’re good. Since I kept coming back to the orphanage, the older kids started saying it’s ‘cause my luck got messed up. That’s why they call me that.”

“You’re not bad luck,” Donnie said, wishing he’d taken a good bite out of that frog kid after all. “You’re the luckiest thing that ever happened to me and Mikey and Raph and April and Papa and Aunt June. That’s a lot of luck for one turtle and you saved all of it for us. But if you don’t like that name I won’t let anyone call you that anymore.”

Leo hesitated long enough that Donnie knew he was about to do something very brave, like tell the truth, even though a lie would be safer. 

Sure enough, he said, “I don’t like it.” 

Donnie nodded. He’d make sure their brothers and sister knew, too.  

The door slammed open again behind them. Donnie turned around, ready to pick another fight with another stupid bully and maybe show off his sharp canines this time, but the kid who appeared in the hallway wasn’t one of the ones they’d passed by in the yard. 

It was a white rabbit with long ears tied in a topknot. He had a bokken strapped to his back, glossy black where Leo’s was cherry red, handle wrapped in gray cord instead of blue. The rabbit was completely out of breath, bracing himself with a hand against the wall while his shoulders heaved, and he stared straight at Donnie’s brother like Leo would disappear into thin air if he so much as blinked.

“I saw the blue light and ran all the way here,” he huffed. “Give me your hand.”

Donnie bristled at this stranger telling his twin what to do, but Leo’s face was pure sunshine. He shoved his hand out immediately and the rabbit took it, neither of them bothering with so much as a hello. Uncapping a marker with his teeth, the rabbit scrawled something on the inside of Leo’s palm. 

“This is my new phone number,” he said, not letting go of Leo’s hand even when he was done writing and the marker was put away. “When you didn’t call at our usual time,  Auntie asked if you even knew her number, and I realized you only had the number for our house that burned down. And when I called here, Miss Toto said I’d just missed you. And Suzy said you got adopted for real and went to live in New York and weren’t coming back.” 

His eyes were big and wet and his mouth was wobbling, but he stubbornly wasn’t crying. From this close, Donnie could see the charm dangling from the guard of his wooden sword—a little blue turtle. 

“Don’t ever disappear again, Stripes,” the rabbit said. “We promised to stick together forever.”

“Forever, Snowy,” Leo told him, in his voice that meant he meant it. “I always come back.”

It wasn’t until Donatello and the rabbit were sitting in the den, watching two tiny sheep yokai kill each other for their turn on an ancient Nintendo 64 while Leo used the corded landline in the office, that introductions were made. 

“Who are you?” Donnie demanded bluntly. He’d heard enough about ‘Snowy’ that he could probably write the guy’s biography if he had to, but somehow Leo had never mentioned his best friend’s actual name. 

“Usagi Yuichi,” the rabbit replied. He hesitated, sizing Donatello up, then asked, “Are you his family? His actual one?”

“I’m his twin,” Donnie said, feeling prickly and overprotective. He’d only had Leo for thirty-two days and he would defend his spot in Leo’s life with violence if the situation called for it. “He has a big brother and a little brother at home, too. He doesn’t need any more than that.” So there, he thought. 

To his credit, Yuichi got the gist of Donnie’s bottom line quickly. Instead of any of the reactions Donnie was waiting for, Yuichi wrinkled his nose.

“Yuck, I don’t want to be his brother. I’m going to marry him someday.”

Donnie considered that carefully, and decided it was acceptable. They shook on it then quickly jumped apart when Leo wandered back into the room. He collapsed on the sofa between them with a gusty sigh.  

“I think we’re grounded,” he said. “But everyone was shouting too much for me to be sure. They’re coming to get us now. Splinter said stay in this exact spot and wait for him or he’ll have a conniption. What’s a conniption?”

“It means he’ll cry a lot,” Donnie replied. 

“I don’t know how to get to New York,” Yuichi piped up, frowning. “Nee-chan says it’s really big, too. How am I supposed to visit?”

Leo slid his bokken from his belt and laid it across his lap. There wasn’t a single etching or carving on it anywhere, the glossy lacquered finish completely unbroken. If Donnie hadn’t seen those strange glowing runes for himself earlier, he’d have a hard time believing in them now. 

“When I really need to go somewhere, a door opens,” Leo said. “It happened when your house burned up, Snow. We were trapped inside but I got us out. I’ve never done it on purpose before but I think I could. Maybe.”

“Not by yourself,” Donnie said immediately. He didn’t want Leo to get the wrong idea that his family would let him go traipsing off through magic windows all alone. “Or Papa really will have a conniption.”

Leo smiled down at his hands, that crooked, happy smile. He didn’t say anything, which Donnie knew meant he still didn’t believe it all the way yet, but he would someday. He was too smart not to. 

When Splinter arrived nearly two hours later, Donnie didn’t notice him at first. He and Leo were busy conducting experiments, since they had a magical sword on hand and some time to kill. They had collected a bit of a crowd at that point, Leo’s actual friends clustered around him—including a tiny otter who made it abundantly clear why Leo was a professional Mikey-wrangler within seconds of meeting the kid—as he tried to make his bokken glow again. 

“It’s not gonna work,” Niji said with absolute authority. Her scales were teal for now and she kept hitting Leo’s foot with her tail to be annoying on purpose. “Or it would’ve worked already.”

“Google how many tries it took to invent the lightbulb and get back to me,” Donnie replied without looking up, scribbling notes on the back of an algebra worksheet he stole from a bookbag lying on the floor nearby. The lizard girl hissed at him and he hissed right back. 

“Your brother’s mean,” the tiny otter dangling over Leo’s shoulders said with obvious delight. “He made Midori cry.” 

Midori was, of course, the frog yokai that Donnie had threatened to eat. Word got around quickly it seemed—half the room was keeping a healthy distance from the turtles. Donnie tried not to look smug about it, but he didn’t try very hard. 

“He’s nice to me,” Leo said, squinting in concentration. “I think he only makes bullies cry.”

“Doesn’t Midori make fun of you, Renren?” Yuichi asked, poking the otter’s diamond-shaped nose. 

“Yup!” Ren wriggled happily, getting in everyone’s way, obnoxious and noisy and loved for it. “That’s why Koko’s brother is mean and cool. Next time Midori tries to call me a name, I’ll show him the picture Suzy took of his face all puffed up like a balloon!”

“I shouldn’t encourage this,” the Suzy in question, a fluffy owl named Susumu, said primly. “But Midori is such a jerk. I made like twenty copies of the photo in case Miss Toto finds out.” 

“Then I expect to find twenty copies on my desk before bedtime, young lady,” Miss Toto announced firmly, and a ripple of chaos spread through the room as a dozen kids realized their guardian had come home without warning. Even some of the ones who weren’t actually doing something wrong scattered with the ones who should have been working on chores or homework. 

That’s when Donnie realized Splinter was standing in the doorway, looking like he’d just been watching over them for a little while. 

He waved and said, “Hi, Papa. I found Leo.” 

“Don’t you wave at me,” Splinter snapped. “You are in so much trouble, mister. Jumping face-first into a portal! Who raised you?”

“Is that a trick question? I don’t like those.”

Leo shrugged Ren off his shoulders and stood up fast, shoving both his sword and the otter into Yuichi’s arms. When he faced Splinter, he looked like he wanted to hide inside his shell and live there forever, but he only hunched his shoulders and tucked his chin instead. 

“It was my fault,” he managed to say. “I yelled at you and ran away and I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I won’t ever do it again. I’ll be—” 

But by then, Splinter had crossed the room in a few swift strides, and scooped Leo up into his arms the way he’d wanted to back in the lair, and Leo was too startled to speak.

“You can’t just disappear like that, Blue!” Splinter chided fiercely. “Red and Orange are frantic, June keeps forgetting herself and trying to call the police, April just about stormed the Hidden Cities on her own, and I was ready to sell my soul to the nearest witch for another finding spell! It is a whole mess back home!” 

He rubbed his furry cheek on the top of Leo’s head and closed his eyes. It was the closest Donatello had ever seen his father get to tears and it made him feel uneasy. Donnie shoved his notes into Yuichi’s already-full hands and scrambled over to tug at the front of Splinter’s jacket. He was lifted up immediately and Splinter held them both. 

“You are my precious treasures, and I had no idea where you were. Do you have any idea how frightened I was?” Splinter said. 

Donnie watched Leo’s face wobble and scrunch up miserably as he struggled not to cry again. His twin was the only person he’d ever met as stubborn as him.  

“Sorry,” Leo mumbled, “sorry, I’m sorry.” 

Papa’s next breath shuddered out of him. He squeezed them extra tight, and kissed each of their foreheads, and then said, “It’s okay. It’s okay now. We are all going to go home, and have a long talk after this, but it is okay .” He looked right at Leo until Leo nodded slowly. Then he added, “But you’re both grounded until you’re at least thirty! You are never leaving my sight again! If you think I’m joking, you have another thing coming!” 

It was his silly-scolding voice, and it soothed the last of Donnie’s worries. Leo’s worries weren’t gotten rid of so easily, but somehow he managed to have more hope inside him than fear. 

So he was brave enough to lay his head on Splinter’s shoulder and say, “Okay, Papa.” 

That surprised Papa so much he nearly fell over. The tiny yokai children in his path squawked in alarm, and Donatello laughed because the suddenness of the almost-fall made his stomach swoop. 

A moment later, just a second behind, Leonardo laughed, too. 

——

When Leonardo was fourteen years old, he split his time between the yokai world and the human world almost evenly. 

Neo Edo was where their ancestral house was and where they went to school. It was where they had nosey neighbors and block parties and parents night at the junior high, where people recognized Leonardo and his brothers at a glance and collectively referred to them as ‘Yoshi’s boys’.

But there was a part of Leonardo’s heart that belonged to New York City. His portals to the lair always opened up easily, even eagerly, giving the truth of the thing away to anyone who knew what to look for. 

It was home. The first one Leonardo had ever had that he could believe was his to keep. 

“Blue,” Splinter called from the doorway of the living room, pausing on his way through to the kitchen, “what are you doing?” 

Leo, more out of boredom than anything else, was poking Raph in the face while he tried valiantly to read the last chapter of his book, and then looking innocently away every time his big brother leveled a glare at him. 

“Nothing, daddy,” Leo called back in his sweetest voice.

“Orange, what is Blue doing?” Splinter tried next. 

“Invoking the Cain Instinct,” Mikey answered without lifting his eyes from his canvas, three days in on his latest painting and fully in that headspace where time and space didn’t exist and he would only eat if someone physically put a sandwich or something in his free hand. That didn’t stop him from knowing exactly what his brothers were up to at any given point.  

“For what purpose?” Splinter asked.

“Dee went to pick up April from work and the twins are like ninety percent of each other’s impulse control,” Mikey said. “Also Lee is just like that as a person.” 

“That’s true,” Splinter conceded, and stayed to watch the show.  

When Raph finally slammed his book down it was Leo’s cue to gleefully scramble to his feet and run for his life. He shrieked with laughter when he was caught and scooped right off the floor in seconds. 

Raph’s act of revenge was aggressively nuzzling the top of Leo’s head with his cheek, rumbling playful turtle sounds at him that wouldn’t have convinced a single living person that he was actually angry.  

Leo could have hidden in his shell if he wanted to—and no one would yell at him for it, or threaten to crack it open to get him back out, or do anything more than carry it as carefully as they carried Mikey’s until they found a comfy place to put it down—but he didn’t want to. 

Ever since he was a little kid who first crawled under his big brother’s blanket after a nightmare, who first learned to skate while holding onto his big brother’s hands, he knew where he was safe. 

“Is that the sound of Nardo making someone’s life more difficult than it needs to be?” Donnie’s voice rolled drolly from the entrance of the lair. “Note my tone of utter disbelief.”

Leo squirmed around in Raph’s arms until he could free one hand and make a grabby motion toward the sound of his twin. Even if he couldn’t see him, he could smell him, and Donnie had definitely come home with Starbucks. 

“I’m rolling my eyes,” Donnie said, but he crossed the room and put an iced coffee in Leo’s waiting hand anyway. 

“Boys, I got the keys to the roof!” April hollered from the turnstiles. “It’s go-time, baby!”

“What roof?” Splinter asked suspiciously. 

“One that I’m definitely allowed to be at and have keys for,” his honorary daughter replied, lifting her chin. Not even the FBI would be able to crack her. 

Raph set Leo on his feet, then swiped his cup away and took an annoying slurp before Leo managed to snatch it back. 

“You don’t even like coffee!” he complained. 

“Big brother tax,” Raph replied unrepentantly, making his way over to begin the perilous undertaking of extracting Mikey from his creative process without losing a finger. 

“Try not to end up on the news,” Splinter said, knowing when to pick his battles. “April, you are in charge. Red, you are also in charge. Blue, you are in charge in a third and different way.” 

“Can I be in charge of Donnie?” Mikey asked, raising a paint-smeared hand.

“Of course you can, Orange,” their dad said. 

“I’m running away,” Donnie announced to the lair as a whole. 

The familiar noise washed over Leo like sunshine. He totally understood why regular turtles could bask in that stuff for hours. He sipped his latte and drew a gleaming silver katana from over his shoulder, an ancient bunny charm dangling from its bright blue guard. 

Leo smiled up at Splinter as he passed him in the doorway, never missing an opportunity to duck in for a hug. His dad always tucked him under his chin and held him tight, as if he was still that little eight-year-old boy terrified to death of being abandoned. 

“Have fun, my Baby Blue,” Splinter said. “And if you don’t come home with a cheesecake for your poor father, don’t bother coming home at all.” 

Leo snorted and started to laugh, and by then Mikey had had enough lingering around, whining at the top of his lungs, “Come on, Lee, let’s go already! It’s Cannonball Day!”

“Yeah, Fearless, lead the way,” Raph rumbled fondly.

Donnie stood there watching him with steady gold eyes exactly like his own, and said, “We’re all waiting for you.”

Leo grew up in an orphanage, an unwanted bad omen, and now he had two houses and two hometowns. He was one of four brothers and he loved them with a conviction that he hadn’t known existed outside of storybooks when he was a child. He had a shortcut home from anywhere and a family who would fight god to keep him. 

Hamato Leonardo—who was called Koko by his old friends, and Stripes by his best friend, and would always be Blue to his dad—was a very lucky turtle. 

[multifanhoe99]

Kinktober Day 27- Body Mods

Pairings: Tattoo artist!Ten x Fem!Reader x Tattoo artist!Taeyong

Warnings: Unsanitary workspace (kinda they do clean in between it's just not specified), nicknames (Our girl, baby, darling), oral (female and male receiving), fingering, unprotected sex.

=Let me know if I missed any.=

18+ MDNI

PROMPT LIST

MASTERLIST

You loved Ten and Taeyong. They were your best friends and you loved being their canvas. Having friends who were tattoo artists was the best. You always got their best work when they were feeling creative and just wanted to do some ink. Today was one of those days but, today was a little different.

"Are you ready for us to start," Taeyong said.

You lay on the table with no shirt and no bra, "Yep," you said.

"Alright," Ten said. You were getting an underbust tattoo and you weren't nervous about it but, you were nervous about being so exposed in front of them. As Ten began to prep the area, you couldn't help but feel your body shiver under his touch. His fingers were rough and calloused from years of tattooing, but they felt gentle as they traced the outline of your tattoo. Taeyong stood next to him, his eyes locked on your exposed skin.

"You're so beautiful," Taeyong whispered, and you felt your heart skip a beat.

Ten chuckled, "Focus, Taeyong. We have work to do."

You closed your eyes as Ten started the first line of the tattoo. The pain seared through your skin, but you were used to it. You had gotten tattoos from them before, and you trusted them completely.

As Ten worked on his side, Taeyong leaned in closer, his breath warm on your neck. "You know, we could make this a little more fun," he murmured.

You opened your eyes to see him smirking down at you. "What do you mean?" you asked.

Taeyong's eyes glinted mischievously, "I mean, we could make this tattoo session a little more... intimate."

He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just inches away from your ear, "I know you've always had a thing for us, and we've always had a thing for you."

Your heart raced as you felt their eyes on you, their hands now tracing patterns on your skin. You had always been attracted to both of them, but you never thought they felt the same way. Now, as their hands roamed over your body, you realized that they did. Ten's lips found yours, his kiss deep and urgent. You felt Taeyong's hands slide down your body, his fingers playing with the waistband of your pants.

"We want you," Ten whispered against your lips, "Do you want us?"

You could only nod, your body already on fire from their touch. Taeyong pulled your pants and panties down, exposing you to his eyes.  

He looked between you and Ten, a smirk on his face, "Ready?"

You nodded, and in an instant, you felt Taeyong's tongue find your clit. He wrapped his arms around your thighs, pulling you closer to his mouth. Ten's lips found yours again, his tongue tangling with yours as his own hands traced patterns on your sensitive skin.

Taeyong began to lick you, his tongue running circles around your clit. His hands slid between your legs, spreading them apart as he moved closer. The sensation was overwhelming and you moaned loudly into Ten's mouth.

"Shh," Ten said, his lips finding yours again, "We don't want anyone to hear us."

"I don't care," you moaned, pulling Ten's head back to you.

"Neither do I," Taeyong said, his tongue running down your slit, "I want the whole world to see what I'm doing to you."

Ten kissed you as the pleasure intensified between your legs. Taeyong's tongue danced circles around your clit, his hands pulling your ass closer to his face. You closed your eyes, feeling the pleasure build up inside of you. Suddenly, Ten pushed you off of him, his eyes hungry with lust. "I want to see you ride Taeyong's face. I want to see how wet you are for him."

You nodded, intoxicated by the sight of him. You crawled off the table, stumbling towards Taeyong. He pulled his shirt off as you approached him, his cock already hardening at the sight of you. You straddled his face, feeling his tongue run up your slit again.

"God, you're so wet," he groaned as he licked you. His hands pulled your body down towards him, his tongue still lapping at your clit. Ten watched you, his eyes hungry with lust.

"I want to watch her fuck you," Taeyong said. You moaned as Taeyong's tongue went back to licking you up and down, teasing your clit. You felt his fingers slide into you, pressing against your G-spot. Your moans grew louder as you felt him slide his fingers in and out of you. You looked over at Ten as he unbuckled his belt. He stepped out of his pants, his cock straining against his underwear.

"Come here," he said, stepping close to you.

You reached down and pulled his underwear down, his cock springing free. You slid off of Taeyong's face but, before he could protest, Ten was lifting you up. He sat you on the table and pulled you towards him, his cock finding your entrance. He slid his cock inside of you, and you moaned loudly.

"Oh, god," you moaned. Taeyong smirked at you as he stood up, his own cock standing at attention.

"You look so good," he said. He stroked his cock as he watched you ride Ten. "I want to fuck you next."

Ten began a steady pace. Taeyong moved in front of you. You felt his cock slide into your mouth. You moaned around his cock, your whole body tingling with pleasure. Ten held your hips in place as you rode him, your moans growing louder as Taeyong's cock slid in and out of your mouth.

"Oh, god, Ten," you moaned as he fucked you harder. You could feel yourself getting closer to climaxing, as you sucked harder on Taeyong's cock.

"This is so hot," he moaned. "I can't wait to feel you cum on my cock."

You moaned louder as you felt your release build up inside of you. Taeyong's hands found your breasts, his fingers pulling on your nipples as Ten's cock slid in and out of you.

"Oh, fuck," Ten moaned. "I'm gonna cum."

"Fuck me," you moaned. "Cum inside of me."

Ten's moans grew louder as he pulled you towards him, his cock sliding out of you. You felt him cum on your stomach, and you could feel your own orgasm building up inside of you.

"Fuck," you groaned as your orgasm crashed through you. Taeyong grabbed your hips and pulled you towards him, his cock filling you as you rode out your orgasm. He began to thrust into you faster and faster, your body shivering with pleasure as you rode it out.

"I love filling you up," Taeyong moaned. "I love watching your face as I fuck you."

You moaned in response, your mind too far gone to reply. You felt his cock slide in and out of you faster and faster. "Oh, god," he moaned. "I'm gonna cum."

"Cum for me," you moaned. You could feel your body begin to tense up again. Your moans grew louder as you felt your orgasm build up again. You felt Taeyong's cock slide in and out of you faster and faster, and then you felt his fingers slide to your clit. He rubbed small circles around it as he fucked you.

"Oh, god, I'm cumming again," you moaned. You could feel the pleasure build as he rubbed your clit. You felt him thrust into you as you rode your orgasm, his cock filling you as you came.

"Fuck, I'm cumming," he moaned, his fingers continuing to work your clit. He thrust into you twice more and then pulled out. You felt him cum on you, his cum mixing with Ten's on your stomach. Your body was still shaking as you lay there on the table, the ecstasy slowly fading from your body. Ten was standing behind you, his hand rubbing your back.

"You guys want a drink?" Taeyong asked his hands on your hips. You nodded, suddenly feeling exhausted from the orgasm. Ten helped clean you and the table up while Taeyong grabbed you all bottled water from the fridge.

"C'mon," he said after you all had time to get redressed and relaxed.

As he picked you up, you said, "Hey, where are we going?"

Ten carried you back to the table and laid you down.

"We gotta finish your tattoo, baby," he said, kissing you on the forehead. "I didn't think you'd be able to walk."

"I think I can make it," you said.

"I don't think you can," Taeyong said, as he joined Ten in walking towards the table. They laid you down on the table again and soon, you had a beautiful underbust tattoo done by your two favorite boys.

"It looks great, doesn't it?" Ten said, admiring it.

"Yes," you said, a smile on your face. "It does. Thank you guys for the tattoo and well for everything else."

"Anything for our girl," Taeyong said.

You questioned, "Our girl?"

Ten laughed, "I thought we just made it pretty obvious that you are our girl, darling." You smiled, never in a million years did you think you could pull either one of them much less both yet, here you were. One more tattoo and two new boyfriends.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Another catch-up! I am almost done! I will be finishing Kinktober on time I promise!

[wosoluver]

The diner

laura freigang x reader

Billie Eilish x woso prompt list

-> this is based on some of the lyrics and not the actual song (since the song is basically about a stalker).

Laura Freigang Masterlist

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

'Don't be afraid of me

I'm what you need'

You had arrived to Frankfurt over a season ago. A new transfer from Wolfsburg.

You weren't german and over your time in the country you had collected about two pages worth of words and frases you actually understood.

But that wasn't what made it hard for you to connect with others or make lasting friendships.

Laura picked an interest at you even before you had arrived. You had played against each other quite a bit and had a few friends in common.

Like her, besides being an athlete you had a creative vein.

Yeah, you had friends. Lena, Jule and Sveindís. But they didn't share many interests of yours.

You two had hit it off immediately. You were shy but Laura didn't measure efforts to interact with you.

She was quite good at that. Making people feel seen, and wanted.

Since moving to Frankfurt, since meeting Laura, you had found your people. She introduced you to a group of friends, and it was heaven. Finally having that again, since moving abroad.

You became inseparable. Trained together, grabbed lunch and coffee together, even went to little trips together, when you got a day or two off.

Moving into a more romantic thing, came naturally. Although you were kinda stuck in a weird place right now.

You liked her, a lot. But you were scared, of things not working out.

Of putting something you hadn't had in a while, in jeopardy.

'I saw you on the screens

I know we're meant to be

You're starring in my dreams

In magazines, you're looking right at me'

Laura had lost count of how many times she would open her instagram to check on your account.

She felt struck by you, from the first game you had played at, on your debut.

After figuring out you were new, she managed to find your account by a tagged picture, that had been recently posted by Wolfsburg.

She followed you instantly. Which you follow back, but thought nothing of it. It was normal for players to be mutuals on social media.

She loved your style, how cool and effortless your posts seemed.

When she found her team was to sign you over the summer, she swore somehow, she had silently manifested this.

'Bet I could change your life

You could be my wife

Could get into a fight

I'll say, "You're right"

And you'll kiss me goodnight'

Now the two of you sat face to face, in a booth at your favorite diner.

And of course she would bring this up. It was obvious this had to be sorted out, for the sake of her feelings and yours.

"Why not?" she threw that question out following it up with a gulp of her drink.

"It's not a good idea." you tilted your head, a bit to the left, avoiding her eyes.

"And staying in a situationship is?" she would question you until she got an honest answer.

"Lau, it's complicated."

"It's literally not." she said reaching to you from across the table. "you could move into my apartment."

"You said they don't allow cats there."

"We can find another apartment then. One with big windows for the sunlight to come through." There she got you. Knowing the love you had for sitting by a window and reading a good book.

"We can get married in Greece over summer. I'd be perfect, our friends and family will probably be on break, so they'll be able to make it!"

"I haven't even accepted being your girlfriend, slow down." your free hand brushing a lock of her hair, behind her ear lovingly.

"I promise to take you out for sushi at least once a week." she was using all her weapons now...

"I don't have space in my fridge for your films." you toyed with her.

"I'll start using a digital camera." she quickly witted at you.

"What about my stubbornness?" this time, seriously considering everything.

"If we ever get into an argument, I'll say you're right." she answered with a beaming smile.

"Were you even planing to take a no for an answer?" she had got what she wanted, you were done for and your small smile now matched hers.

"I knew you felt the same."

"I hate you." you played.

"You don't."

"I might love you a little." and she gasped faking offended.

"you mean, a little too much?"

she was right, you did.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

Idk if I love this but oh well... might have gotten some inspiration back?!?

Let the Billie x woso prompts posts begin!

Like, share and comment 🩷

[tallerthantale]

Neil and Amanda's Fake Therapist

I originally gathered information relating to Neil's fake therapist in a bit of a messy hyperfocus flurry that included some initial errors, followed by various erratic updates, so I wanted to put the main points together into one coherent place. Some of what I'm putting together here was found by others on the subreddit post.

I once again find myself skirting the edges of my typical rules for myself about analyzing public figures, so disclaimer: this is personal opinion, I'm not scientifically or clinically evaluating anyone based off public appearances / statements, I am commenting on what personal impression I am getting off things, and leaving most speculation about internal states out.

Man does this guy make it hard to stick to that though.

The person I'm talking about here is the supposed 'therapist' that Scarlett interacted with while Neil was (allegedly) pressuring her to say the allegations weren't true. His behavior there (with a paper trail according to Tortoise), and what I was able to gather from Amanda Palmer's podcast made it clear to me that he was not operating within the acceptable behaviour of a therapist, so I decided to see if I could prompt a review of his license. All indications at this time are that he does not have one. But it gets worse.

He claims to be a minister, but like the therapist claim cites no qualifications or organizations in his website's bio. This combination of therapist who isn't a therapist and minister who isn't a minister potentially creates a legal nightmare scenario. I am not a lawyer, this is not legal advice, but I'm going to give you my best estimate of the situation, which has involved looking up the law and reading some cases.

As long as he isn't claiming to be a mental health professional, he may be protected in calling himself a nonspecific 'therapist.' He can probably argue it as some kind of spiritual therapy. But because he isn't actually a mental health care provider, he is not subject to mandatory reporting. Generally therapists have a legal obligation to proactively report when someone is a danger to themselves or others. He does not have that requirement. He isn't bound by professional ethics, since he is not a member of any organizations and has no licenses. Moreover, it seems to be the case in New Mexico that if a person reasonably believes you to be a minister, that kicks in clergy-penitent privilege whether or not you actually are a minister.

The origin concept of clergy-penitent privilege is that the law cannot force a priest to reveal what was said to them in confession. The First Amendment means all religions get it equally and it doesn't have to be part of a specific Catholic ritual. In New Mexico, it covers anything that was not said publicly or intended to be passed on regardless of the surrounding context. That means anything said to or by this guy that is not said in public or explicitly intended to be forwarded cannot be used by the legal system for any purpose, no matter how documented or incriminating it is to the client or to him personally. There is no mechanism to remove that privilege form him for being misused because it is derived from his representation of himself as a minister, not his actual status.

According to his linkdin he received a Bachelors degree in creative writing from the University of Rochester, in New York. He then got a Masters degree in Divinity in Organizations from Harvard Divinity School, 1982-1985. These are the only points of education claimed anywhere we have seen. He lists no psychology or mental health qualification anywhere, and is most known as an author. His bookselling success might be due to a claimed promotional appearance on Oprah.

His personal webpage has a long 'client list' or list of 'collaborators' who have hosted speaking engagements. This list was last updated in 2012. The events on his calendar page have no year. I think I recall seeing a section of his website that was only accessible to those who were 'fully committed,' or something like that, but it doesn't seem to be there now. It's possible I'm misremembering, it's possible it got taken down when the reddit thread got popular, I don't have the right skillset to check. He won an award from the Institute of Noetic Sciences, which looks to be engaging in pseudo scientific spirituality in a manner similar to Scientology.

From what I can gather from the video's I've watched, the advice he 'preaches' is a mish mash of bits and pieces of metaphors and perspectives from a variety of religions and philosophies that he probably didn't fully understand. (My speculation.) There are pieces of genuine insight that are lifted from others and that can give the impression he knows what he is talking about to vulnerable people even if he doesn't really understand them himself. He doesn't seem to have any genuine religious beliefs or connections to any religious congregation or organizations. It is unclear if he is or is not technically ordained, but that is something anyone can just do online, and he doesn't even claim it.

Particularly noticeable in his talks are traces of Jungian psychoanalysis (which is the nonsense Jordan Peterson seems to have got caught up in, and it has antisemitic and fascist origins) some Buddhist resilience concepts that have been misused by westerners a lot, and Christian (I think) concepts about universal love and togetherness. They end up mashed together into a message that I believe will influence most victims who hear it to blame themselves and remain in toxic situations, while making perpetrators feel better about continuing to perpetrate. Not saying that was the goal, but if a person had that goal, this patchwork philosophy is what you would put together to achieve it. I'm not going to be specific because I don't want to be like, putting out a guide for people on how to do this.

Amanda says she met the guy before she had a child, but after she was married. That is somewhere between 2011 and 2015. Amanda says she met him at something resembling a TED conference, where all sorts of people got together to do various (rich people nonsense.) She had a mental breakdown in a horse paddock, and the fake therapist was the guy with the horse, teaching about horse whispering.

"And since then, he’s been my therapist, and he’s also become a true friend, to me, and to my family, and to many other people in my life that he’s taken on, and helped out, in some of their darkest hours of need, and he is my emergency phone call. And in a way, he sort of picked up where Anthony, my old mentor, left off, and I don’t find it a coincidence that Wayne walked into my life right around the time Anthony walked out. "

This is not what a therapist does, this is cult leader behaviour. This is pure speculation on my part, but I wonder if Neil might have known him first and orchestrated their meeting. He is an author with connections to an organization similar to Scientology. It might actually not be a coincidence. Again, pure speculation.

Amanda describes seeking advice from him whenever she was having trouble with Neil, and that talking to him would make her feel like everything was fine again. "Even just to have someone to talk to, to remind me what I’m struggling with, what’s going on, what is home, why does this feel so disorienting, what am I doing? And I can say right now, when I shifted my internal feeling within myself, within my relationship with Neil, around where I was, my feeling in my own house transformed. Because I went, oh, right, none of this fucking matters."

In June 2019 Amanda Palmer has the Portland, OR incident where she tells her fans they need to forgive their r@#ists.

In 2019 the fake therapist did a series of webcasts with The Santa Fe Center for Spiritual Healing over a few months. At times he is titled "Rvrd", and at times he is titled "Dr." there is no reason to believe he is either. In the first one, the host reads a bio she found online, that she says he asked her not to read (she appears to think he was being humble.) This version of the bio claims that he was a Senior Scholar at the Fetzer Institute. When he comes on after she read it, he makes odd comments about whoever might be watching the video online and appears very shaken. The Fetzer Institute has no mention of him on their website. That connection is not listed in his current bio.

In his last video for the Santa Fe Center he claims to be working on an upcoming project in D.C. with a co-facilitator who was famous for brokering a truce between the crips and bloods. He also comes across like he has been asked to stop working with the center and is being super passive aggressive about it. (My speculation.)

His appearance on Amanda Palmer's podcast is recorded in July 2019, about a month after the last Santa Fe Center webcast, in upstate New York. In the descriptor she says it was recorded after a week long retreat with him she set up for 60 of her Patrion supporters. There is a nearly two year gap between the recording and posting, which is not explained. She describes him as a minister, therapist, leadership mentor, and her personal therapist. In the episode itself, she also describes him as her and Neil's relationship therapist. In the description she promotes his books and his website, and says he is still readily contactable there, but to be patient right now because he is mid move. (The description was posted when the podcast was posted, in 2021. As mentioned earlier, there are features of his website that have not been updated since 2012.)

The fake therapist tweeted about Neil being a 'dear friend' in late 2020. He has under 100 followers, not really what you would expect for a best selling author / therapist / minister / community leader / mentor / horse whisper. While I make references to cult leader behaviour, a genuine cult leader would probably have a larger following. But somehow I don't think he lacks for money. I expect there is a market for pseudo-therapists you can freely talk to about the crimes you are actively committing. You can even involve him in the crime, and it still privileged.

The events of Scarlett's allegations date to 2022, about a year after Amanda posted the podcast episode. Sometime in March is when Neil manipulates Scarlett into saying the allegations are false with what is essentially a su!c!de threat, then asks her to repeat her assurances that it was consensual to the fake therapist. Amanda had recently received a scorching message from one of Scarlett's friends about what was done to her. It seems like Neil is doing this to win a fight with Amanda in their "relationship therapy." Scarlett gets a message from the fake therapist.

Tortoise describes it as him "saying he'd be happy to speak to her in complete confidence because he had heard that she found herself in his words 'in the midst of relationships, stories and narratives, not alas necessarily of your own making. Sadly, this is not a surprise. Two creative dynamic people can easily draw others into their orbit unaware of how powerfully the magnetic pull of their influences can have on others.'"

My perception of this message is that it plants the suggestion to Scarlett that her friends are brainwashing her to think she was r@ped by pulling her into 'narratives not of her own making.' I could see how people might interpret the later lines regarding magnetic pull as being about accidental power dynamics abuse, but I read it more as him saying Scarlett's friends are opportunistic manipulators looking to make a name for themselves by taking down a famous person.

Either way, there are a considerable number of things happening there that an actual therapist would not ever do, for a variety of very good reasons. Tortoise's attempt to call him to ask for comment was thwarted by the fact that his phone has been specifically programed not to accept voicemails. Not like, the voicemail box was full or something, he went out of his way to do that. Which means Tortoise can't quite claim that he didn't respond to requests to comment, because they couldn't leave a message. Other organizations probably run into similar difficulties establishing evidence that they have contacted him. It's not a smoking gun, but I don't like it.

A year later Amanda Palmer makes her post on the Russel Brand allegations, where she argues the solution to serial predatory behaviour is to try to get them to stop doing "stupid shit" by trying to heal their lacking and fear with love and compassion and forgiveness, because that the ONLY cause / motivation for abusive behavior. And some unarticulated hope for non-specific accountability vibes.

This post looks to me like the perspective of a person who has been continuously exploited, and manipulated into thinking it is their personal responsibility to heal people who have no interest in being healed. It reads to me like a person who has been justifying staying in a toxic situation to themself so long it has warped their entire worldview. It reads to me like the inevitable end result of this fake therapists preaching.

I don't think that absolves her of what ever her role has been in facilitating access to victims, or actively promoting these views to her audience, but it is something to keep in mind.

There is a broad rage of possibilities for what is going on with this guy. The spectrum runs from deeply misguided fool to deliberately exploitative criminal. Either way it looks like he is charging people money for the service of turning them into the "this is fine" dog. This is not fine. This is not ok. Unfortunately it probably is legal.

[saturnville]

the man in the suit.

pairing: miguel galindo x afro latina fem oc (eliana)

prompt: miguel becomes infatuated with eliana, the owner of a popular coffee shop in town.

an: I was asked to bring back the Miguel Galindo fics by an anon. it's been over two years since I've written anything Mayans, but I'm always willing to revisit old fandoms, so, here we go, I hope you enjoy.

Her coffee shop was a staple in the town. Known for the rich Colombian coffee beans ground with intentionality, brewed with love, and served in mugs crafted by her own hands. The aura was always calm. Busy, but never so much that guests couldn't enjoy their time. They, just like she often, would get lost in the melodies of indie music that played from the speakers and drunk off caffeine and oat milk. The Tranquil Lounge was a blessing to Santo Padre.

Saturdays were the busiest days in the Lounge. College students stopped by to grind out assignments due the following day at midnight, entrepreneurs chugged coffee like water to finalize funding proposals, and others snuggled by the window with a good book. They were lively and invigorating; her favorite days in the shop.

She danced around her employees, humming a Marc Anthony tune as she topped off a cup with cold foam. Vivir mi vida, la, la, la, la, she hummed to herself.

"I'm very impressed. Most people don't know the lyrics passed the chorus," said an unfamiliar voice. Her teeth gleamed as she smiled softly. Her head still down, she placed a lid on the cup and slid it to the other side of the counter.

"I consider myself determined when it comes to learning song lyrics," she replied. "What can I get you?" Finally, she lifted her head, and she struggled to fight the instinct to gasp. How had he found her little coffee shop in town?

Miguel Galindo was notorious in Santo Padre. A businessman with illegal practices. The government hated him, men envied him, and women wanted him. Everyone in Santo Padre knew who he was and they knew better than to cross him. Their families could end up missing within hours if they upset him. It should have struck fear in her heart, but his presence did the opposite.

Her eyes scanned his attire. Bold of him to wear a white suit to drink coffee. But, it looked beautiful against his olive complexion. It was perfectly tailored to hug his broad shoulders. Her eyes followed its outline.

His brown eyes scanned the beautifully curated menu behind her. Bright colors against the blackboard. Sunflowers, rainbows, and bees decorated the menu. Creative, he noted. "I'll do a hot caramel macchiato. Medium, please." He handed her a twenty-dollar bill. She halted. The drink was $4.

Miguel looked unamused when she parted her lips to object, so she simply took the bill from his hand and thanked him with a smile. "Enjoy, hope to see you back soon."

He nodded. His eyes dropped to her nametag. Eliana, Founder. "Thank you, Eliana. You have a good day, quierda."

She smiled bashfully, "Gracias. You too."

-

Miguel Galindo was enamored by her. He saw the silhouette of her figure when he closed his eyes to rest at night. He heard the southern twang of her accent as he listened to music on the radio, and he saw the richness of her eyes in the mounds of chocolate chips scattered in Christopher's pancakes.

He made frequent appearances at the shop after that. Catching her friendly grin and gentle hands as she passed his cup to him was one of the few highlights of his day. He cherished it, craved it, and adored it.

He felt lucky when he waltzed into the shop one Saturday morning to find it empty. He thought it was a slow day, but she'd closed it for cleaning. And rather than turning him away, she welcomed him in.

"Your usual?" Eliana questioned. She propped her broom against a stable surface and turned to move behind the counter. "On the house."

"Oh no," Miguel waved. "You're not even open, I see." It was Eliana's turn to force an object into his hands. His usual--hot caramel macchiato; medium with a smiley face drawn on the side of the cup.

"You keep me in business, Mr. Galindo," Eliana replied teasingly with a smile. She was so pretty to him. The woman with a mahogany complexion and soft eyes with an unexplainably gentle aura.

Miguel's eyes dropped to the floor as he chuckled bashfully. He had a tendency to pay more than was due, but he credited it as paying in advance for future visits. "I just like to support where I can." Eliana picked up her broom and hummed, instructing him to get comfortable in the cushioned chairs near the window.

His eyes scanned the marvelous artwork that decorated the dark walls. Murals of people parading in fields of palm trees with drums, colorful skirts, and baskets of fruits, vegetables, and grains. They were all of deep complexion. His eyebrow rose.

"Where are you from?" He found himself asking.

"Costa Chica of Guerrero. Mexico." The area where Black Mexicans were the most populated.

"Tu familia?" Your family?

Eliana shrugged a shoulder and bent over to sweep the dirt unto the dustpan. "En México. Conseguí una beca para estudiar aquí. Se graduó con un título en negocios y decidió quedarse. It's a long story." In Mexico. I got a scholarship to study here. I graduated with my business degree and decided to stay.

Miguel mimicked her actions and gestured to the empty seat across from him. "I've got the time if you do."

-

They were polar opposites. She was an extrovert, he was introverted. She loved the fall, yet he found it one of the sadder seasons. Tea was her favorite, though she owned a coffee shop, but coffee was his holy grail. He grew up without his father present, but hers was her rock. So many new discoveries that he basked in like warm comforters on a winter day.

“I enjoyed today,” Miguel said as he walked her to her car. Hours had passed, the sun had set, and their day had come to a close. “I’d like to see you again.”

Eliana hummed as she tapped her key fob. Her vehicle chirped excitedly. She reached for the door handle, but Miguel beat her to it. She thanked him gently and slid into the seat. “Well, you’ll know where to find me, Miguel.”

He chuckled and nodded. She wasn’t going to make it easy for him, but. he liked that. Effort was required. He liked a challenge.

“I do,” he replied. “Be ready tomorrow evening. Be safe tonight, Eliana.”

Her brown eyes are twinkled with curiosity. She stretched up and pressed a kiss on his cheek. “Wear a white suit.” And with that, she started her car and sped off into the night, leaving Miguel to bask in the eagerness of seeing her again.

[omegalomania]

the thing is that i can still remember the way it felt.

end of november, 2022, suddenly every feed lights up. they're doing something. people are posting images of the chicago tribune, a full page ad that has this bicolored logo, a face both happy and sad, black and white, and it simply says: FOB8.

"is this real?" quite a few people were skeptical after the years-long pause between mania and now. "i'm not convinced."

"it's a full-page ad in a single chicago newspaper out of nowhere, right after joe got finished doing a whole book tour where he insisted they had no new music to speak of," i answered. "of fucking course it's real. it has fall out boy all over it."

i remember so vividly the sense of wonder that arrived on christmas morning of that same year, when i woke up at the exact right moment to learn that fall out boy did something again. an eerie, playful, earnest, weird claymation video with a haunting soundtrack, featuring a little black and brown dog. it was mystifying and bizarre and striking - a sprinkling of stardust on the dog's muzzle that prompted it to sneeze - and the adrenaline rush i got from the snippet of heart-pounding drums and guitar was the best gift i'd received all year.

so much (for) stardust. i've said it before and i'll say it again - it's a damn near perfect title. it's a play on words, it has multiple meanings nested into one another. given enough time, we all fall apart like so much dust, like so much stardust because that's where we came from. we are made of and from stardust. for stardust. so much for stardust. so much for the cosmic clay that shaped us. so much for this life, so much for the very foundational fucking firmament from which we we all sprang, so much for this whole strange weird existence. it's exhaustion and anger and spite and frustration and, at the same time - it's wonder. it's love. it's a doberman frozen in an instant of elated play, snapping at bubbles. it's a dog breed conventionally associated with danger captured in a moment of buoyant delight. it's an oil painting, surrounded by words shaped from sparkling clay.

it's love.

it's a record full to bursting with love. it's in the very first song they sent to us, sending us their love from the other side of the apocalypse. it's a record that says yes, the world is a mess and it feels insurmountable. maybe existence is meaningless. maybe it's all fucking pointless and we're all gonna die anyway. but like hell that means i'm not going to love life with all that i am. like hell i am going to let that stifle me. if nothing matters, then love is what matters.

and they committed to it, too. if there's one thing we can take away from so much for (tour)dust, it's that fall out boy loves us the way we love them. they'd have to, right? they could have called it quits years ago. hell, they could've packed it up after the hiatus and just never come back. they'd have to really love doing this to want to keep at it, years later, and look at that. they have.

fall out boy, at the end of the day, is propelled by love. they have to really love what they do to keep doing it. they have to love each other, love the music, love the fans, to keep doing what they do. this is something they've repeatedly asserted over the course of this tour and record cycle: the sheer, shared joy, the positive feedback loop of creative energy that comes from sharing something you made with the world and seeing the world respond in turn.

the world is a wreck and it feels, at times, like nothing you do matters or changes anything. so much (for) stardust is the antithesis to that kind of existential apathy. look, it says. look at what your love has changed. because as desolate and nightmarish and inescapable as the pitfalls of this strange, oftentimes terrifying existence can be - we have laughter, we have good friends, we have good music, and we have the ability to not let our own ennui defeat us. there are things in this world worth living for. there are things in this world worth loving. you have to love one another. you have to laugh and do whatever silly, inane thing makes you feel alive. you have to hug your friends and sing with them, cry with them, and savor every drop of this life that we get. prioritize love. be seriously unserious.

a week before this record came out, i spent some 6-7 hours in a car driving to a record store to hear it with a bunch of people, many of them strangers. i heard so much (for) stardust in its entirety in a record store with one of my favorite people, surrounded by awed chatter as we all drank it in. we didn't catch all the words, but the ones we heard sank into us and took root. i almost couldn't bear to wait for to hear the record properly.

a year later, it's sunk into the recesses of my soul. i'm not sure it'll ever come unstuck there. i don't think i want it to.

thanks for the stardust, fall out boy.

we love you back.

[alcoholfreenayeon]

can you do co worker Irene x fem reader,where Irene secretly has a crush on reader and she waits every time for her.But this day readers ex didnt stop calling reader and ended up waiting for her at work so Irene went to reader and acted like her gf.Later Irene took reader to her home and they made out ,THENN READERS EX CALLED AGAIN.irene told her to answer the call and while they were talking reader couldn't stop moaning (English isn't my first language sorry)

A/N: Well….as I wrote this, I realized it was not so much smut but more fluff that’s a bit suggestive so this will be a bit disappointing for all of you who voted for this expecting smut😭(but also horny jail for you all🚔) anyways, this is probably the last request I’m doing before I finish the Angst April fics unless I get a random burst of creativity.

Stupid Cupid

Irene x fem!reader

CW: Fluff, suggestive

Your phone started ringing, once again, right on time, your ex calling you exactly 5 minutes after your lunch break starts so you have no excuse to not pick up other than that you don’t want to talk.

You sigh and pick up, knowing the calls will continue to come if you don’t pick up. “Hello….”

As you talk with your ex, telling her the same thing you have been for the past month, you are seemingly unaware of an annoyed stare in your direction, albeit from afar. Irene watches you, an exasperated look on her face. ‘The audacity of that stupid woman to keep calling her y/n’, she thought to herself. ‘Well…not her y/n….yet’. She really wanted to walk over, snatch the phone out of your hand, tell your ex to fuck off, block her and then kiss you. But alas, she couldn’t do that. And that annoyed her even more. Regardless, she was about to get on with her work when her ears perked up at something you said.

“What! What do you mean you are on your way here? I don’t want to see you. I already sa-. No, we don’t need to give it another tr-…..fine, whatever”, you sigh and put down your phone, rolling your eyes in irritation, unsure of what will happen next when you feel a gentle tap on your shoulder. You turn and find that it’s Irene, your coworker. Supposedly she’s the scary one but she’s been nothing but sweet to you so you have always chalked it down to her just being more prompt and serious than the rest.

“I, ahem, I did the….”, Irene begins but trails off when you take the sheets of paper from her, your hands lingering on hers for a second. You smile at her and you could have sworn she blushed. “……I couldn’t help it but I overheard you on the phone…”, she says hesitantly.

“Ugh..yea..my ex…it’s just a mess”, you start, “and yeah I know I can just block or her not answer or whatever but like…I think she won’t let up as long as she thinks she can win me back…”

Irene listened to you, a concerned look on her face, a slight frown forming on her face before her expression softened again. “Y/n….maybe…”, she hesitates, you see her cheeks flushing, “you should tell her you are seeing someone else…or something”, she quickly added at the end.

You sigh, “I wish it was that easy, she’ll keep on pressing me even then, who is it, how do they look, why them etc etc. Thanks for the suggestion though”.

Irene stayed quiet, a bit stumped. That’s when you hear a shout, “Y/N there you are!”. And you see your ex walk up and you sigh. This was not going to be pretty….

She walks right up to you and you can’t deny it, she does look really pretty, “Y/n…”, she smiles, “look I’m sorry for being so pushy lately…but I really think we are making a mistake. Like it’s been a little while now and it’s been difficult for me and you said it’s been hard for you too so why don’t we just make out-up, oops”, she giggled.

Irene couldn’t believe what she was hearing, no way Y/N would fall for this trap right? Like it was so blatantly obvious.

You stayed silent…yes she was not completely wrong, you had been feeling a bit lonely lately and you did miss intimacy but you had been focusing on your job lately and that made it much easier, like for some reason you didn’t feel like working was such a burden anymore. But did you really want to start over once again?

As you considered your options, your ex took a step closer, smiling, her hands reaching for your cheek.

That’s when Irene suddenly stood up, a determined expression on her face as she got in between you two. “Stop. And leave. She doesn’t want you. How many times does she have to tell you before you understand huh?”, she says calmly but also coldly.

Your ex seems taken aback for a moment before she chuckles, “Who even are yo-”

“I’m her girlfriend.”, Irene says defiantly.

Now your ex looks stunned. She gives Irene a once over, a frown forming on her face and she faces you back again, “Y/N? What is she….”

You look at Irene and then your ex and make up your mind, “Yea, it’s true….”.

“You both are lying, there’s no way, I don’t believe-”, she begins again but is cut off.

“Believe what you want but that’s the truth. And none of your business anymore anyway so just go away”, Irene snaps.

Dumbstruck, your ex just stares at Irene who grabs your hand takes you back to your desk, as soon she’s out of sight, you notice Irene is completely red faced and she lets go of your hand slowly, reluctantly…and then glances at you, unsure of what of say when you hug her, “Thanks for that, you shouldn’t have…now she’ll be after you too…”

“I don’t think I should worry about that too much”, Irene replies, seemingly unbothered.

“No…I mean like…I’m pretty sure she’s gonna be at the parking lot when you leave, watching us to see whether we were lying or not…”, you sigh.

“Oh”, Irene says quietly as she realizes what you mean, “I…I guess maybe we just…just pretend abitlongerthenright?”

“Huh…oh..oh!”, you are a bit surprised Irene is still willing to continue with this facade, “S-sure…I guess that works…maybe it’ll put her off for good? But…what do we do?”

“……maybe….you come with me…you know instead of taking the bus…just pretend I’m dropping you home or something?”, Irene says quietly.

You consider it for moment before nodding in agreement and that was the plan.

Hours later as you get in the passenger seat of Irene’s car, you notice through the side mirror that a familiar car was in the distance, observing. You sigh and point it out to Irene who says nothing and begins to drive in silence.

A couple minutes in, you notice that your ex is still following and you once again tell Irene who suggests maybe you both go to her house for a bit so the ex doesn’t bother you and has no choice but to believe you both are dating.

20 minutes later, you are sitting awkwardly in Irene’s living room while she gets some snacks. You both eat a few biscuits and then Irene suddenly becomes really quiet, she looks at you and takes a deep breath, “Y/N…..I have something to tell you…”

You look at her, perplexed and tilt your head, “what is it?”, however as you say it, you suddenly become very conscious of her hand on top of yours, the way she is looking at you right now, how you yourself look at the moment and why suddenly it feels like there’s so much tension between you both.

She hesitates…and hesitates again and then looks away, moving her hand and shifting away looking frustrated, “Nevermind…it’s nothing…my bad”.

“Huh”, you feel surprised and a bit hurt that it seems like Irene isn’t completely comfortable around you, “Come on, just say it, you’ve already said you are my girlfriend”, you say smiling and nudge her, “What could be-”, you falter when you see Irene look back up at you, nervously biting her lip and then suddenly putting both her arms on your shoulders, pushing you back a little and she starts to lean in, as if you kiss you.

Not knowing what to do you just shut your eyes and a moment later you felt her lips on yours. She kissed you and kissed you again and this time you kissed her back and before you even realized you both had begun to make out. A minute later Irene finally pulled back, both of you red faced and breathless, panting, looking at the other.

Irene clenched her fists and suddenly blurted out, “I meant it when I said I want to be your girlfriend”.

You slowly blinked, “what…..”

She sighs in frustration, looking away, blushing, “don’t make me say it again…..”

Unbelievable, was Irene really saying she liked you? What! Did she always like you? Is that why it always seemed she was nicer to you? Did you like her too? You didn’t think so but…at the same time why did it feel so good when she kissed you, why did your heart pound when she said she was your girlfriend….why couldn’t you take your eyes off her when she drove you here…..did….did you like her too? Maybe…enough atleast to be willing to give it a shot with her.

You look at her and she doesn’t meet your eyes but you feel her tense up, waiting for your reply and then this time, you kiss her. Irene gasps but then leans into it, melting into your arms. She then caresses your cheek and begins to take off her jacket, “Y/N…..I want you”

Even though that makes you want you bury your face and squeal, you manage to stay somewhat calm, smirking at her, “what are you waiting for then?”, you say moving back and leaning against the sofa.

As Irene gets on top of you, her eyes full of desire, suddenly your phone starts ringing loudly completely ruining the mood…you both sigh and you pick up….

“Hello….oh it’s you…what now, honestly you are just being really annoying now”, you say, annoyed now that your ex is still calling you. “No, I don-ah!”, you cover your mouth as you almost moaned because Irene just began to kiss your neck. You try to give her a look to stop but shakes her head, “keep talking”, she says smugly while continuing to kiss your neck while her hands begin to undress you.

A few minutes later, you were shivering, almost completely naked, your neck and shoulders full of hickeys and your ex almost crying on the phone as she cuts the call, realizing what was happening.

You take a deep breath and toss your phone away, ready to jump at Irene but she beats you to it, getting on top of you, her hand clamping your mouth shut, “you were so bad right now, couldn’t even be quiet while on the phone…that can’t happen, so I’m going to test you now”, she whispered as her hands began to sink lower and lower, “if you stay quiet….I’ll let you off or else you are going to be edged again and again until I get what I want from you ok?”…….

[saekkas]

For your Blue Haze ask game! 💙 #41 your hair is really soft - with Kaiser! Please 🙏.

prompt: "your hair is really soft." tags: f!reader, kaiser is a simp, fluff. note: i'm sorry this is so short and that it's taken me so long to write it :< writing's not coming easy to me these days. i hope you enjoy! <3

"your game is in five minutes, what are you doing here!?" you hiss, the whisper turning into a shout when kaiser runs barreling into you. "michael kaiser!"

everything is oddly silent; the birds aren't chirping, the soccer fans' shouts only a distant murmur— it's as if the world's slowed down, stopping into a freeze frame.

even your boyfriend, the renowned star player, is quiet. he leans forward to place his head on top of yours, his arms wrapping around your waist.

you can only sigh, knowing this weird outburst is caused by the petty fight you had earlier.

"i'm sorry, alright?" the words catch, his speech slightly stiff, so unlike the smooth drawl kaiser's known for. it's as if his pride has bound a leash on his words, pulling them back down into the crevices of his heart.

your lover hides his face in your hair, sniffing the scent of your shampoo every now and then. he waits for your reply, and you can feel his heart hammering against your own chest with how tight he's holding onto you.

"i know i'm an asshole for apologizing this way, and i'm sorry," he whispers, his lips moving against your forehead. "can you forgive me, liebling?"

you stay quiet, watching as he slowly moves to face you, his hair a mess and his eyes tinted red.

your eyes trail over his face, taking in his tired visage. and maybe it's the doubt swimming in your eyes, or the hesitance plastered on your expression but kaiser sighs, lifting his hand only to drop it back to his side the next second.

"i know i can't undo the things i said," he mumbles, lips downturned and eyes plastered to the ground, "but i couldn't go out there pretending like everything's fine when the person that matters most isn't cheering for me in their usual spot."

you bite your lip, trying to keep the smile that's threatening to bloom at bay. even if it's only an excuse to be let off the hook, kaiser's always been creative with his words. a closeted romantic under all that suave and charm.

"what do you say, mein liebling?" there's a hint of a smile on his face, his eyes molding into your beloved puppy eyes. the piece of resistance he always uses, knowing you can't resist. "you can hit me all you want back at home. just cheer for me, please?"

please isn't a word kaiser normally uses and when it slips past his lips, you come to understand just how desperate he really is.

"okay," you whisper, body instinctively leaning forward in search of his warmth. "but we still need to talk after your game."

kaiser nods, his expression clearing like the sun after a rainy day. he doesn't move, doesn't walk, doesn't talk, and the silence that comes after is nothing but a loving embrace.

"you didn't braid my hair this morning," kaiser says after his eyes trail from the tip of your hair to the end of your toes and back. "you skipped out on our routine."

you snort, chuckling a little when he tilts his head, indirectly asking for you to braid his hair.

"i could barely look you in the face without punching you this morning," you mumble. the strands of his hair are smooth in your hands, and your fingers pull them into braids as if weaving through the finest silk. "your hair's really soft."

"i used your shampoo," kaiser grins shyly, like a giddy schoolboy who's just confessed. there's a hint of a blush on his cheeks, the skin reddening the longer you braid and compliment his hair. "missed your scent and all that."

you laugh at his words, indirectly letting him know whatever storm was brewing has passed. you press a quick kiss on his cheek, letting his hair fall down his back in braids. "go get 'em, hotshot."

kaiser goes on to score five goals in the match, blowing multiple kisses to you after every single one.