#it's torture like actual torture like why was i cringe and why is that part of me on the internet

[hwajin]

when your card declines after therapy and they make you read your old fanfictions

[dandylovesturtles]

It's time! For Room Fic Part 4 Part B! Of how many parts? IDK ANYMORE

This is the longest part of the fic yet, and it's also the most... talky. But I felt like this was a part of the recovery everyone wanted to see so I thiiiink it's fine.

Content warnings: vomiting, HEAVY discussion of eating issues (including calorie counting, done purely as a recovery mechanism in this fic but still worth noting), mentions of the non-consensual voyeurism that happened in the first part, and as always, anxiety and aftermath of torture

If you're lost, start here!

I'm soooo tired I only proofread like half of this. it'll go through full editing when it goes on AO3

-----

Leo crashes into his room and grabs anything within arm’s reach to pull over himself. The blanket from his bed. A cardboard box, contents dumped on the floor. His skateboard, a beach towel, a plank of wood used to prop up action figures.

He cowers into his claustrophobic, makeshift nest, clutching his ill gotten gains to his chest. He doesn’t know why he bothered, because there’s nowhere to hide in here, and then they’ll…

They’ll do what? It’s his family. And if they’re upset with him for stealing the chips, well, he deserves that. Who is he to take food, when they’re running low already?

That’s what he expected, actually, when the lights flipped on and Raph was standing there. To get yelled at, chewed out, dressed down - the way he’d been waiting for Raph to do this whole time. Why can’t he just do as he’s told? Why does he always make the wrong decisions?

But Raph hadn’t yelled. He ran off. And now Leo doesn’t know what to expect at all.

He assumes Raph went to get their dad, or even Draxum. He waits in his hiding spot, heart pounding in his ears, and listens for the call of his full name, the surefire indicator that he’s in Big Time Trouble. He stole food, food he isn’t even allowed to eat, and when they’re running low, too. He doesn’t know what the punishment is going to be, and the fear of not knowing pulls him deeper into his nest.

He wants to know. He dreads finding out.

Time passes. He has no idea how much. There’s no clocks in here (there hadn’t been any clocks in there), and his phone is on the nightstand, hooked to its charger. To get it he would have to leave his hiding place. And he’s scared.

So he waits and waits and waits. Until his limbs grow uncomfortable and cramped, until no amount of shifting dulls the pain. His heart is still rabbit quick in his chest. (He may be a turtle but call him the hare-)

No one comes for him.

Finally, finally, when his body physically can’t take this position anymore, he scoots out of his hiding spot and gets to his feet, bag of chips clutched in his fingers. He walks to the curtain over his doorway - though “walks” is really overselling it, with the way he pauses for hours between every step.

When he makes it to the doorway, he peeks out.

The lair is quiet. Everything is dark. No one is stirring.

He makes his way back to his bed, and looks at the bag in his hands. He feels so anxious that he’s nauseous. And he can’t eat if he’s nauseous or he’ll lose his dinner.

So he can’t even eat the damn things. The irony would be funny if he could laugh.

He kneels down and fishes around under his bed for a box he knows is there. It’s full of little toys and trinkets from childhood - things he saved from the old lair that he couldn’t bear to throw away, but is too embarrassed to be seen with.

He dumps the contents of the box into the bigger one he hid under earlier. This is more important.

Then he hides the chips inside and scoots the box under the bed.

He climbs back onto his mattress, cringing when the bed springs creak. His blanket is still on the floor, but he doesn’t want to get up and risk making more noise.

So he curls up on his mattress and stares at the wall and tries futilely to sleep.

Donnie’s brand new curtains don’t even help. Maybe that’s part of his punishment.

-----

Somehow, he manages to make it to breakfast. He doesn’t remember who poked their head in to tell him it was ready, or how he picked himself up and walked to the kitchen. He just ends up there.

Mikey greets him with a sunny grin and the announcement that he gets oatmeal today, along with his scrambled eggs. There’s even some banana on top of the oats. He should be excited for the variety, but he feels numb. Still, he smiles as he’s expected to and thanks Mikey and hopes it passes scrutiny.

Draxum comes in, and then his dad. He stiffens up for both, muscles tense while he waits for the yelling to start. But no one starts yelling. Draxum sits and eats and Leo hears him give a reminder to take vitamins. Splinter reads out the shopping list, and everyone scrambles to add last minute items. 

Normally, this is where Leo would be chiming in with all the snacks and junk food he wants, but he knows if he says anything he’ll be turned down, so he doesn’t. He can feel the weirdness of it, but he doesn’t take his eyes off his food to see anyone’s appraisal.

Donnie’s last in; he drinks his coffee fast and tries his luck with adding uranium to the list. He grabs a granola bar instead of eating what the rest of them are having, then tells Mikey to meet him at the entrance in five minutes and leaves. Mikey piles the dishes in the sink, then rounds the table to give everyone a hug goodbye, Draxum included.

Leo smiles when Mikey gets to him. Says, “Have a good day, Mikester.” Swallows down the impulse to grab on and beg him to stay.

He finishes breakfast, then goes to the TV room and settles into the recliner. Raph comes by and pats his shoulder and tells him to call if he needs anything. Splinter hops up and pats his head before following Raph away.

He’s alone now. Alone, with Draxum, who’s currently in the kitchen doing who knows what.

(Leo doesn’t like leaving him alone in there. All their food is in there.)

(Well, not all of it. Leo’s made sure of that.)

He lays in the chair and pretends to be asleep. And he listens. 

To be sure that his brothers and dad are really gone, and aren’t coming back for a forgotten wallet or phone.

Until Draxum leaves the kitchen and moves for the train car he’s taken over as his own.

Until he’s sure no one is watching him.

Then he gets up. He goes to his room. He’s not sure why he feels like he’s sneaking, when he’s obviously allowed to be there.

He makes sure all his windows are covered, curtains or otherwise. Makes sure the curtain over his door is stretched as far as it will go.

Then, as silently as possible, he reaches under his bed and pulls out the box. Opens it to reveal his stolen goods.

He unrolls the top of the bag, wincing at each crackle of the plastic. His eyes dart to the door, to the windows, to make sure no one is there, no one is watching him.

Then he reaches his hand in and grabs a chip in his fingers.

He’s not sure if he should do this now. Maybe he should wait, save this when things get dire. But everyone is gone. They’ve left him alone, with Draxum. What if Draxum doesn’t let him eat, with no one here to step in?

He’s scared of being hungry again. He doesn’t want to go back to that place. 

Just a few, he tells himself. Just a few, and then he’ll stop.

He pulls the chip out of the bag, and takes a bite.

-----

They’re at the local grocery where no one asks questions, basket half full and three minutes in to Splinter trying to decide if the Buy One Get One Half Off deal for frozen dinners is really worth it or not, when it occurs to Raph that maybe they shouldn’t have all left at the same time.

Of course, in normal times this wouldn’t have been a big deal at all, especially with a nominally responsible adult in the lair. But times haven’t been normal for over two weeks now. The thin shell of his little brother, once always the biggest and loudest in the room, now trying to make himself as small as possible, isn’t normal. 

They got Leo back, but it still feels like someone else has him.

And now Raph feels guilty. He’d been so desperate to just get away, from the feeling of being inadequate, from the fear he’d make things worse, that now he’s probably made them worse anyway by leaving Leo alone with a guy he does not like. Raph should have stayed home. Or told Mikey and Donnie to wait until he and Splinter were back before leaving.

(That worries him too, for different reasons. He knows he can’t lock his brothers up in the lair to keep them safe. But he kinda wants to.)

But he didn’t do any of that, and now they’re out and Leo is alone. Raph thinks of the chip bag and sighs. He just can’t seem to make the right decisions. The calculus is overwhelming, and Raph’s always left math to Donnie.

“Hey Pop,” he says, watching Splinter flip his fourth TV dinner over to look at the nutritional information. ���Do you think… Leo is gonna be okay?”

Splinter pauses, then gingerly puts the box into their basket. He pats Raph at the knee, and Raph feels the overwhelming desire to be small again. 

“...Yes, I do. It will take time and care, but I think, one day-”

“No,” Raph cuts in, “I mean, do you think Leo is gonna be okay today? I mean, we kinda just ran off and left him alone.”

“He is not alone.” Splinter makes a face, at odds with his words. “Baron Draxum is the most annoying man in the world, but he would not let harm come to you boys.”

Raph rubs his neck. “Sure, but… Leo’s not exactly Draxum’s biggest fan. Especially not now…”

“Blue does not have to like him,” says Splinter airily. “He just has to eat the food Draxum gives him.”

“Yeah, but that’s the whole problem,” Raph insists. “He’s bein’ a huge jerk about it.”

“Ah… I know. I have spoken to him about his… tone.” Splinter waves a hand. “He is trying to be more polite.”

Raph thinks back to breakfast this morning. He’d laugh if anything were funny right now. “Is that why he was all “please” and “thank you” and “sorry” this morning? He looked like he ate a lemon.”

And judging by how distant Leo was acting, he doubts any of it made an impression. 

“It just proves that the man is incapable of being nice!” Splinter chuckles. “Do not worry, Red. We will only be gone a few hours. Most likely, Blue will sleep until we are back.”

“Raph hopes so…”

They continue moving around the aisles, crossing things off their list as they do. It’s normal and boring and Raph thinks he needs that right now. If only it distracted him from the thoughts in his head…

There’s so many questions to dwell on. And the biggest one looms over them all, constantly drawing Raph’s attention back to it.

They’re in the soup aisle when he speaks up again, saying, “Hey, Pops, do you think…” and then flagging out before he can voice it.

“Often,” says Splinter, reaching for a can of tomato bisque. “But at my age, it can be difficult!”

Raph snorts despite himself, grabbing the soup can and passing it to his dad’s fingers. “Come on, Raph’s trying to ask a serious question here!”

“Hm.” Splinter puts the can in their basket. “Then I will give a serious answer.”

“Do you think…” Raph shifts the shopping basket from one hand to the other, and resolves not to chicken out this time. “Do you think Leo did the right thing? Not talkin’ to that Bishop guy?”

Splinter goes quiet for a long time. He points to a can of alphabet soup, the kind Leo insists he’s too old for but will happily eat when he’s sick, and Raph dutifully puts the can in the basket.

“…I think he did the brave and noble thing,” he says at length.

“That ain’t the same,” says Raph.

“I do not know if there was a right thing.” Splinter’s voice is sad, fingers idly stroking one of the soup cans. “It could be that if Blue had talked, he would not be as hurt as he is now. Or it could be that Bishop would have… disposed of him, once they had what they wanted.”

The idea of Bishop “disposing” of Leo steals Raph’s breath. But it’s not like he hasn’t thought of this before.

“April said pretty much the same thing.”

“Oho! April is very wise.” Splinter nods in satisfaction, affirming for Raph once again that his favorite kid is definitely April. But then he looks up at Raph sidelong and says, “But that answer does not satisfy you.”

Raph sighs. “It’s just… what if he thought he had to stay quiet, because of something I- because he thought it’s what he was supposed to do?”

A furry hand lands on his. Raph takes a deep shuddering breath, and uses his free hand to scrub at his eyes. They’re damp, suddenly, and he’s not sure when that happened.

“…I often worry the same thing,” says Splinter, “about all four of you.”

Raph doesn’t know what to say to that. He already knows that their dad would give anything for the four of them to not have to fight; he also knows it’s out of his dad’s hands.

Why can he accept that, but not accept the same for himself?

“I’m afraid I do not have an answer for your question,” says Splinter, pulling Raph back to the grocery store. “I want you boys to be safe. But the situation Leonardo was in afforded him no safety. I’m not sure there is a choice he could have made that would have helped him. Still…” Splinter sighs. “It could be the reasons he made the choice he did are troubling.”

“Yeah,” says Raph. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Mm.” Splinter pats Raph’s hand. “Your questions and worries are wise ones, Raphael. Meditate on your answer, and when you are ready, share it with Blue. You will find your path forward together.”

Raph chews on his lips. “I’m scared I’m gonna mess up,” he admits.

“Sharing the truth in your heart is never a mistake,” says Splinter, “so long as you are doing it with love.”

Raph blinks at him. “Pops, isn’t that a line from one of your movies?”

“It is a good line! Very heartfelt.” He picks up another can of soup and tosses it into the basket. “As long as you are talking to Blue with love, you will do just fine, Red. And remember, this is not your sole responsibility. We are all here to help each other.”

It should be self-evident, but the reminder pulls some weight off Raph’s shoulders. It’s not just up to him. Everyone is coming together to help Leo. That’s why Donnie and Mikey are at the scrapyard, to finish making curtain rods for Leo’s room. That’s why Draxum is always researching and scribbling in his notebook, refining his meal plan for Leo’s recovery.

It’s not just Raph against the world. He isn’t alone, and neither is Leo.

“Yeah, I know. Thanks, Pops.”

“Of course, Red. Now, let’s keep moving or we’ll be late getting back!”

On their way to the checkout line, Raph spots the candy aisle, and a bag of hard, sour candies. He stops, reaching out and brushing the bag with his fingers.

“Mm… that is Blue’s favorite, isn’t it?” asks Splinter.

“Yeah.” Raph pulls the bag off its hook, holding it over the basket uncertainly. “I know he can’t have ‘em yet, but he’ll be able to eat normal stuff soon, right?”

“Right.” Splinter nods. “Put them in! We will hide them until Draxum says it is okay, then give them to him.”

Raph grins and drops the bag into the basket. At least it’s something to look forward to.

-----

Leo is halfway through the bag of chips when the curtain to his room is pushed aside and Draxum is standing there.

He was saying something about the vitamins Leo forgot to take as he came in, the little blue pill organizer clutched in his hand. But now he freezes, taking in the scene: Leo with a handful of sour cream and onion chips, his cheeks bulging slightly, the salty evidence tracking up the sleeve of his hoodie.

He’s crossed the room before Leo can blink. He grabs Leo’s wrist, and Leo cries out, twisting his arm to try and free himself.

But he can’t, he’s weak, he’s so weak-

“What are you eating!?” Draxum bellows. He tosses the pill organizer onto Leo’s bedside table; one of the lids pops open and there’s little plinks as vitamins scatter. “How much of this have you had!?”

He wrenches the bag out of Leo’s grip, and Leo yelps again as he loses the food. The only food he had, and now Draxum has it and Leo is going to-

“This bag is over half empty,” snarls Draxum, waving it in Leo’s face. Leo doesn’t have the presence of mind to defend himself, because he’s still trying to wrench his wrist free. He claws at Draxum’s arm with his free hand, and somehow it gets Draxum to let go; he jerks away with a gasp, dropping the handful of chips to the floor, and at the same time the ones already in his mouth leave painful scratches down his throat and lodge there. Leo doubles over and wheezes in a desperate attempt to get air.

“Are you- Leonardo!” Draxum looms over him, and Leo doesn’t have the strength to flee. He can’t do anything as Draxum strikes him, once, twice, three times on the shell in big, open-palmed slaps.

A white-hot cough rips up Leo’s throat, and he spews the half-chewed potato chips across his blanket, bits of drool and spittle dangling from his lips and tears rolling down his face. He sucks in a deep breath as feeling returns to his limbs.

The hand that hit him moves toward him again, and Leo dodges this time, flinging himself off his bed and into the floor, scrambling backwards to put distance between himself and his attacker.

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” he shouts, hand flailing for his swords and not finding them. Where did he put them? Where did they take them?

“Leonardo-” 

Draxum takes a step toward him, and Leo pushes to his feet, grabbing for anything nearby to defend himself. But there’s nothing, nothing, where are his swords-

“Leonardo,” says Draxum more firmly, and he takes another step forward. “Stop this, you’re going to hurt-”

“No!” Leo presses himself back against the bookcase on the far wall, the metal shelves biting into the skin of his arms. “No,” he repeats, and a high, manic laugh bubbles through his throat. “You took my food.”

“This,” Draxum shakes the bag, “is all empty calories. This is not going to help your recovery! Why can’t you just do as you’re told-”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Leo spits. He feels stronger than he did a moment ago, pushing himself off the bookshelf and standing on steadier legs, squaring up against Draxum. “Just do as I’m told?” He laughs, a cold sound. “Just like Bishop wanted.”

Draxum stiffens. Something about his expression is… weird. If Leo didn’t know better, he’d almost say Draxum looks scared. “Do not compare me to him,” he says, and his voice is much lower than it was a moment ago. “I am trying to help you.”

“Help me?” Leo holds out his hand, taking a step forward. “Then give me my food back.”

Draxum watches him, gaze unwavering. He holds the chip bag closer to his chest. “I cannot.”

Leo barks out a laugh, high and cold. “I knew it. You’re just lying to me.”

Now he’s the one advancing on Draxum, slow but strong steps, one at a time. Draxum does not move.

“Leonardo-”

“I’m on to you,” says Leo. His voice is a chilly sing-song. “You’re sooo happy to have everyone out of the house. Now there’s no one to stop you from torturing me. Now you can watch me suffer.”

“I do not want you to suffer,” says Draxum, his tone measured. He still hasn’t moved an inch, even though Leo is right in front of him now, within striking distance. 

“Then why did you take my food!?”

“This is not good for you,” says Draxum. “I’ll feed you a healthy lunch in two hours.”

“Yeah?” Leo shakes his head. “What do you want me to do for it?”

Draxum’s eyes widen. “What do you mean?”

“Come on. Tell me.” Leo grins. It hurts his face. “Want me down on my knees? Want me to beg?”

Draxum’s face goes a shade paler. “No,” he says, firm. “You don’t have to do anything.”

“I don’t believe you,” says Leo. He laughs again. “I don’t. I don’t BELIEVE YOU!”

His fist connects with the glass- but it’s not glass, it’s Draxum’s face, and he goes sailing across the room like a rag doll. He slams back first into shelving, and there’s a clatter as Leo’s possessions tumble and fall around him.

He looks at Leo, eyes wide but expression steady, despite the fact that Leo just…

Leo… doesn’t know what just happened.

He shouldn’t have been able to hit that hard. He shouldn’t have been able to hit at all- Draxum should have blocked that, should have fought back, should have… should have…

“...What?” says Leo, and it comes out with a crack down the middle.

Draxum watches him a moment longer. Then he sighs and pushes himself off the shelves, getting back to his feet. He doesn’t come closer. “I cannot give you these,” he says, indicating the bag. “But I will not fight you.”

“...Why not?” Leo asks, because it just doesn’t follow anything he thought was happening here.

“Because I care for you,” says Draxum simply. Like it’s obvious.

“...I don’t understand,” Leo says, because he doesn’t.

Draxum nods. “That’s because I haven’t properly explained it to you. I didn’t think it was necessary… but it was. Is.” He sighs, rubbing his cheek, starting to glow red from Leo’s punch. “I’m very sorry for that, Leonardo.”

Leo stares. Draxum is… apologizing? He should be attacking, fighting back, not apologizing!

The adrenaline leeches out of Leo, leaving him sagging in the middle of his room - his messy room, with everything thrown around like it’s in an active war zone. A million emotions are running through him, his dying rage warring against the confusion and the beginnings of remorse, a roiling mix that leaves him feeling sick to his stomach.

…Oh wait, no. He’s actually sick to his stomach.

Leo clamps a hand over his mouth, and Draxum is moving again - more calmly, this time. He drops the chip bag on the floor and grabs the wastebasket Leo has sitting by what could generously be called a desk. He holds it out, just in time for Leo to lose his breakfast and all the chips he just downed.

Leo hovers over the wastebasket until he’s empty, until he’s spit a few times to try and get rid of the taste. Then he wipes his mouth on his palm and looks up at Draxum warily.

“Are you finished?” Draxum asks.

Leo shrugs. Draxum takes that as an affirmative and lowers the wastebasket to the floor by the doorway.

“Why are you helping me?” Leo asks.

“I’ve been helping you this whole time,” says Draxum, and it’s only the exasperation that manages to break through that makes Leo think it’s - maybe - not a lie.

“Why?” he repeats, more urgently. 

“Because you are my son.”

Leo steps back, his knees knocking into his bed. He sinks down onto the mattress, balling himself up until he can wrap his arms around his knees. 

“No,” he says. “Mikey’s your son. Raph and Donnie, they’re your sons.”

A look passes over Draxum’s face. It’s… sad.

“You are my son, too.” Draxum takes a step toward him, then seems to second guess himself and stops. “I know we don’t get along. But the fear that froze my chest when they told me you were gone couldn’t mean anything else.”

Leo stares at Draxum, searching every part of his expression for any hint, any suggestion, that he’s lying. He waits for Draxum to change his tune, to start yelling again, to hit him, to do something.

Draxum doesn’t. And Leo sags on the bed. The feeling of fear with nowhere to direct it leaves him floating.

“I’m going to explain everything to you now,” says Draxum. “But I need to get a few things first. Will you be alright on your own for a few minutes?”

Being alone for a few minutes sounds great; Leo needs to pull himself together. He nods.

“Good.” Draxum stoops and picks up the wastebasket, then the bag of chips, and the chips that fell on the floor. “Answer your phone,” he says, “before your brother comes back to skin me alive.”

Then he leaves the train car. It’s only then Leo realizes his phone is ringing - has been ringing.

He scrambles to pick it up, seeing Raph’s name and picture lighting up the screen. Raph, who is supposed to be getting groceries, because they’re running low.

Raph, who apparently didn’t rat him out about the chips.

Leo shakily presses the answer button. Then he takes a deep breath and swallows to try and calm his voice.

Then he does what he does best and starts talking.

-----

“Heeey, bro,” says Leo, and Raph wants to weep with relief.

He’s two full blocks away from the grocery now, headed for the manhole cover closest to the lair. Their groceries are somewhere on the street behind him, and Splinter is held tight in his other arm. When Leo didn’t pick up right away, Raph started moving.

He felt it, after all: not as strong as the first time, not as desperate or afraid, but still there. Leo, terrified and alone and angry, crying out for help.

Leo hadn’t answered the first four calls, and the worst scenarios are still playing out in Raph’s imagination, even though he can hear Leo now.

“Leo!” he cries, and nearly fumbles the phone. He hits the speaker button, lowering it so Splinter can hear, too. “What happened!? Are you okay!? We’re on our way back right now!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” says Leo, and his voice is scratchy and hoarse, but trying to be placating. “What are you talking about, big guy?” He sounds shaky, like saying those words in that tone is taking so much effort, and Raph wants to hit something until it breaks. 

“Just tell me what happened,” he says, trying to sound calm and failing. Splinter pats his arm and speaks up.

“We just need to know if you are alright, Blue.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” says Leo, his voice cracking a bit on the last word. He clears his throat. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Raph falters, staring at the phone. Does Leo not know? Could Leo really not feel himself doing that?

He gives his dad a helpless look. Unfortunately, Splinter looks just as helpless. Raph dithers on his answer too long, finally choking out, “Raph just… got a bad feeling.”

“You get bad feelings over everything.”

(Raph wishes he did. Then he would have gotten a bad feeling when Leo went to Run of the Mill on his own.)

“This was just… a real bad feeling.”

“Leonardo,” says Splinter softly, “are you certain you are okay?”

“Yeah,” says Leo, and he doesn’t sound like he’s okay, but like an actor pretending to be someone who’s okay. “It’s… Look, me and Drax got in a fight, but it wasn’t a big deal.”

“He fought you!?” Raph shouts. Someone across the street gives him a weird look.

“Not physically!” says Leo hastily. “Not- I mean- he didn’t- it’s not like he would hurt me, right?”

It sounds a little too much like an actual question, and Raph feels queasy.

“He better not, or Raph’ll hurt him.”

“Red,” says Splinter softly. Then he says, into the phone, “No, Blue. He will not hurt you.”

“...Right,” says Leo quietly. “Yeah. He won’t.”

Raph breathes shakily, trying to quell the urge to pummel a car parked on the side of the road into scrap metal. “Listen, we’re on our way back right now, okay? Just give us-”

“You got the groceries already?” Leo interrupts. He sounds so fragile.

Again, Raph looks helplessly at Splinter. This time, Splinter steps in.

“We’re getting them right now, Blue. Then we’ll be on our way back.”

“...Yeah. Cool. Good.” Leo clears his throat again. “Then… see you guys in a few?”

“...Yeah,” says Raph, at a loss. “A few.”

“Okay. Well. Bye.”

He hangs up. Raph doesn’t move the phone, staring at it long after the screen goes dark and Leo’s smiling face disappears.

“Pops, we’re not really going back for the food, are we?”

“He’ll be upset if we come back without it.”

Raph knows he’s right. He knows that. But everything in his body is screaming to get back to Leo right now, not to leave him alone for another second.

“We can’t all run off and leave him again,” he says.

“Yes,” agrees Splinter. “You are right.”

Raph nods. Then, even though it tears him apart, he turns around and starts walking back to the grocery store. He hopes no one spotted their bags and took them, or they’ll have to start over. They’ll have to leave Leo alone even longer.

“He hated being alone as a kid,” he says.

“I know,” says his dad.

“We shouldn’t have left him today. I knew it.”

“Yes. You were right.”

Raph feels a little mad at Splinter then, that he didn’t think through the consequences. Splinter said this isn’t on Raph alone, but if he’s the only one thinking about the wellbeing of his brothers…

His brothers.

He puts Splinter down, then unlocks his phone again. “I’m gonna call the other guys. They probably felt that, too.”

“A good idea,” says Splinter. Raph nods at the approval, then clicks Donnie’s contact.

Thankfully for Raph’s anxiety, he answers on the second ring. “Hello you are now conversing with Donatello,” he says in a rush, following up with, “What happened to Leo!? Are you home!?”

“No, but I talked to him,” Raph reassures him quickly. “He says he and Barry got in a fight.”

“A fight!?” Donnie echoes. “Aha! I knew he’d turn back to supervillainy one day! You owe me twenty bucks!” A pause, and then Donnie says, “Wait, is Leo okay!?”

“No,” says Raph honestly, “but I think it’s just a normal sort of bad. It wasn’t that kinda fight.”

“Ah. An emotional fight…” Donnie sighs. “But it was bound to happen, I suppose.”

“…Yeah,” Raph agrees, even though he thinks there must have been something they could have done to prevent it. He thinks about the chips again. He doesn’t know what the right thing was, still. “You felt it, right?”

“Yes. It wasn’t as strong as the first time, though.”

“What about Mikey, did he feel it, too?”

“Probably.”

Raph frowns. “You don’t know?”

“I am not Micheal.”

“…So can you ask?”

“I suppose I can text him for you.”

Raph nearly drops the phone. Then he glances down at Splinter, looking for any hint that he’s listening into Donnie’s half of the conversation.

“Why don’t you ask him, since he is right there with you where he is supposed to be!?”

“H-huh? Oh. Oh, yes!” Donnie chuckles nervously. “The buddy system, where he is my buddy, and stays in the same place as me and doesn’t go anywhere else.”

“Right,” hisses Raph. “That buddy system.”

“Yes! Well. He iiiis…n’t with me, but! He is. Here. On the other side of the junkyard!”

Raph rubs the bridge of his nose. “Well, tell him to get back from the other side of the junkyard right now so he can be with his buddy!”

“Yes, I will do that. Right now. And then we’ll be together because we’re in the same place, haha, but I’m so very busy right now goodbye Raphala!”

He hangs up the phone. Raph scowls at it.

“Is everything alright?” asks Splinter, and Raph wants to rat them out, just for a moment, but he ain’t a snitch. Even when he thinks his brothers are being unbelievably stupid.

“Everything’s fine, Pops,” he says, quickly opening his text thread with Mikey.

boy you better get your butt back to D right now or so help me you will NOT like what comes next

Then he gives Splinter a strained smile and repeats, “Everything’s fine! Let’s get those groceries!”

-----

When Draxum comes back, he’s carrying a plastic baggy, a bottle of Gatorade, and a whiteboard under his arm. He requests permission to sit on Leo’s bed, and Leo nods reluctantly.

He sets the whiteboard to the side, then opens the Gatorade and passes it to Leo. Then he opens the plastic baggy and holds that out, too.

There’s crackers in the bag. Leo takes them, a little stunned.

“I can eat these?” he asks.

“They’ll help settle your stomach,” says Draxum. “It’s not good for you to eat too much, but it’s also not good for your stomach to sit empty.”

Leo cautiously takes one of the crackers out, watching Draxum as he does. When no hand reaches to stop him, he takes a bite, chewing slow. He still feels a little nauseous, but the familiar texture and taste of the cracker soothes him somehow.

“Good,” says Draxum, propping the whiteboard on his knees and popping the cap off a marker. “Take sips of the drink, too. You need the electrolytes.”

Leo does as he’s told, alternating bites of the cracker with sips of the Gatorade. His stomach slowly unknots, and the tension in his shoulders relaxes.

He wasn’t expecting a snack, but Draxum brought him one.

On the board, Draxum has written the days of the week, and drawn out a grid underneath them. Leo eats his snack and watches as Draxum fills each square on the grid with a number.

“Where’d you even get that?” he asks after a minute.

“I borrowed it from Donatello’s lab.”

Leo whistles. “Without asking?”

“I don’t think he will mind.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Leo points at the numbers. They aren’t times, or prices, so… “What are these?”

Draxum lowers the board, turning to look at Leo. “Do you know what refeeding syndrome is?”

“…Should I?”

Draxum shakes his head. “No, there’s no reason for you to have known. I should have explained this sooner, but it didn’t feel necessary. …And I thought it might scare you.”

“Scare me?” Leo repeats. He’s not sure what could be even more scary than the fear he feels all the time now.

“I am not telling you this to scare you,” Draxum stresses. “I am telling you this so you understand what is happening now.”

Leo slowly nods.

“Right. So, do you know that when a person is starving, their body changes how it processes nutrients?”

“Yeah, it’s like, starvation mode.”

“If you must call it that,” says Draxum with a nod. “The body stops relying on carbs and glucose and uses fatty acids instead. This helps preserve the muscles, but causes a severe depletion in intracellular minerals.”

That sounded like a Donnie-level infodump to Leo. He stares at Draxum blankly. “Can you say that again, en Ingles por favor?”

Draxum actually makes a noise that could almost be a laugh. “Alright, think of it this way: a painter wants to use purple, but their purple paints are running low. So they start using red and blue mixed together, which solves the problem of preserving the purple paint, at the cost of running low on red and blue.”

Leo raises his eye ridges. “Is this how you explain stuff to Mikey?”

Draxum shrugs. “He understands art metaphors.”

Leo settles back a little more comfortably on his bed. He munches on a cracker. “It’s fine for today. Think of a comic book metaphor for next time.”

Draxum gives a long suffering sigh and says, “Fine. But do you understand now?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Good. So when a person eats again after a long term starvation event, their body won’t start relying on glucose again right away. It’s still in “starvation mode,” as you called it, and switching isn’t easy. The painter buys a new purple paint, but the color is different enough that they will have to use more red and blue to blend the two together.”

“I’m starting to lose track of the art metaphor here. We added purple, but we’re still low on red and blue, right?”

“Yes, precisely. Your body is low on critical minerals, and those need to be replenished at the same time it is given more carbs to convert to glucose.”

“But I still don’t understand why that means I have to eat less,” says Leo.

“Digestion itself takes energy,” says Draxum. “And the body isn’t using the tools it’s being given properly yet. So it is using more and more minerals without replacing any. The imbalance leads to stress on the body, which has negative downstream effects.”

“So, TLDR, if I eat too much right now, my body can’t handle it and I’ll get sick.”

“I have no idea what TLDR means, but yes, simply put.”

Leo looks at the cracker in his hand thoughtfully. “So all the times I’ve puked are refeeding syndrome?”

“No,” says Draxum with a shake of his head. “That is because your stomach has shrunk, and you’ve overstuffed it.” A pause, then Draxum adds, “Though I believe what just happened was a stress response.”

“I’m not stressed,” says Leo. The look Draxum gives him is not convinced. “Sooo then what is refeeding syndrome if it’s not barfing?”

“The lack of minerals causes severe stress on all parts of the body, especially the organs. This can lead to a number of disorders… including organ failure.” Draxum pauses, like he doesn’t want to say more, but he still adds, “In extreme cases, it can lead to heart failure.”

The cracker Leo is holding slips through his fingers. He feels his pulse speed up, something cold and terrible sliding through him.

“If I eat too much my heart could stop?” he asks, and his voice is small.

“In extreme cases,” Draxum repeats. “If you began showing symptoms, we would take you to a hospital. Even in the Hidden City there is no mystic cure-all for this, but they could at least reduce the stress on your organs.”

Leo shakes his head. His hands are trembling. The words feel like they’re coming to him through thousands of feet of water.

“Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

“I did not want to scare you,” Draxum says again. “And I did not think it was necessary. Refeeding syndrome is entirely preventable, if precautions are taken.”

It barely penetrates. All Leo wants is food. All he wants is to eat. But now food somehow feels like the enemy. He suddenly queasy again. Should he even be eating these crackers? What is safe? What isn’t?

“Is this forever?” he manages to ask. 

He doesn’t know how to take it, if it is.

“No,” says Draxum quickly. He raises his hand and reaches toward Leo, but Leo flinches. Draxum lets it drop again. “…No, Leonardo, it is not forever,” he says, and his voice is more soft than Leo has ever heard it - more soft than he thought Draxum capable of. “The most critical time for refeeding is the first five to seven days. You are almost clear of the danger zone now. And your enhanced biology may even mean we’re already past it… though I am still being cautious.”

Leo lets out a breath. So it’s not forever - it may even be over. It doesn’t calm the racing of his heart (at least he knows it hasn’t stopped, ha ha), but it does make him feel like he can pick up the cracker again.

“Then what happens once we’re past it?”

“That is what this is for.” Draxum lifts the whiteboard again, perching it on his knees. “Even once you’re out of danger of refeeding syndrome, we’ll still need to build your daily food intake up gradually, until you can eat like you once did. These,” he taps the board with the marker, “are my calorie goals for each meal and snack. As you can see, every day it goes up.”

Leo looks over the counts. They don’t really mean anything to him, but he can at least see how the number increases across the seven days on the board. “How many calories is normal?”

“Based on calculations I have done, going off what I have seen you boys eat as well as my own estimates for your growth, you and Donatello eat roughly five thousand calories a day, sometimes going as high as six thousand when you are particularly active.” Draxum scribbles the number in the corner of the whiteboard. “It’s high compared to humans, but within perfectly healthy limits given your mutant biology and high metabolism. Raphael eats more, and Michelangelo eats a bit less, though not by much.”

“Yeah,” Leo gives a chuckle, “kid can put away a whole large pizza by himself when his blood sugar’s low.”

“Unfortunately, I have seen him do it.” Draxum sighs. “But right now, you are averaging much less.” He taps the numbers. “Our goal right now is to get to where you are eating around twenty two hundred calories a day steadily, without getting sick.”

Leo has never been the math guy, but even he can handle some simple division. “Less than half? Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. That is why ensuring that your meals are as nutritious as possible is important.” He nods at the pill organizer. “And why the vitamins are important.”

Less than half as much as he used to eat… It leaves Leo feeling a little dizzy again. Nine days without food wrecked his system this hard?

“Don’t panic,” says Draxum in that soft voice again, and Leo feels a little resentment for how it pulls him out of his ensuing spiral. “You can see that your counts are going up steadily, and as we reintroduce solid food it will get even easier. And this is not hard and fast. Going a little above this is not an issue. And I am constantly readjusting as we go. It will take time before you are… putting away entire pizzas.” Draxum scrunches up his face in distaste. “But in a few weeks, you will be eating a much more normal diet than you are now.”

Leo rubs his hand up and down his arm. “Normal like, I can eat potato chips without getting yelled at?”

Draxum sighs. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you to begin with.”

“Yeah, well…” Leo fishes his last cracker out of the bag and rubs it between his fingers. “I gave you a black eye, so I think we’re even.”

“Hmph.” Draxum almost sounds amused, though he doesn’t let his lips quirk up even a tiny bit. Leo thinks he might be allergic to smiles, unless he’s doing something evil. “Still, I hope you understand the situation now.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Leo takes a small bite of the last cracker. Takes his time chewing and swallowing it. “The main thing is you’re going to keep being a pain in the butt for the next few weeks, right?”

“Yes, you’re stuck with me.” Draxum watches him take another bite of cracker, then says, “There’s something else you need to understand, Leonardo. The goal of this,” he taps the whiteboard, “is to keep you from getting sick. It is not to keep you hungry.”

Leo stares at the board, and the calorie counts, all laid out neatly. “Sure,” he says, and he doesn’t feel it.

Draxum hesitates, then taps each row, reading off, “Breakfast, lunch, snack, dinner, snack. Smaller amounts of food more frequently, to keep your stomach full without overstuffing.”

“Makes sense, I guess.”

“And this can be moved around. If you eat breakfast earlier than normal, you can have a snack in the morning instead. But you tend to sleep in, which is why I structured it this way.”

“Nine’s not sleeping in,” Leo grumbles.

“Nine is- no, this is not the point.” Draxum gives his head a shake. “The point is, if you want to move your eating times around, we can. The goal of this is to keep you from getting sick. It is not to keep you hungry.”

“I heard you the first time.”

“No, I’m not sure you did.” Draxum again uncaps the marker, then writes across the top of the board five simple words:

If you are hungry: eat.

Leo stares at those words. It feels like a trap, a trick - Draxum’s being all nice right now, but the way he ripped the bag from Leo’s hands…

“I was hungry when I ate the chips,” he says, and it’s a little bit of a lie, but that’s not the point. He watches Draxum carefully, for any sign that this is all fake, and Draxum really does want him to suffer.

Draxum’s brows furrow. “You are not in trouble for eating,” he says. “You’ll never be in trouble for eating. It is just good for you right now to eat healthy things. 

“I know it isn’t fair,” he adds, voice blunt, “but life rarely is.”

Leo studies his face. And the amazing thing is, he doesn’t think Draxum is lying.

“So… if I want a late night snack, I can eat some crackers?” he asks, waving the empty baggie.

“Yes. Or a banana, or some yogurt… If you feel very hungry, you could even eat some egg, or leftover soup.”

“And you’re fine with me just eating… whenever?”

“If you are so hungry you need to eat an extra meal, I just ask that you let me know, so I can adjust.” He taps the board. “But yes, I am. You know the stakes now. I trust you.”

Trust. Leo’s never had much of that from anyone. He looks down at the empty bag and wonders if it’s really true.

“…Is there anything you need right now?” Leo lifts his eyes back to Draxum’s face. “I can get it for you.”

Leo thinks about it. “When did you say lunch is?”

“About an hour and twenty minutes, now.”

“Then… I’m fine.” Leo pushes himself further back on his bed, dropping his trash into the space between them.

“Hm. I will bring you some more juice to drink.” Draxum nods at the pill organizer. “You still need to take those.”

Leo shoos him off. “I will, sheesh.” Now that he knows how important it is.

Draxum rolls his eyes and gets up. He takes the trash, but leaves the white board propped against the wall at the foot of Leo’s bed.

He’s almost to the door when Leo clears his throat and says, “Hey Barry?”

Draxum pauses, hand grasping the curtain. “Yes?”

“Any chance we can skip telling my dad and brothers about… everything?”

Draxum looks back at him. “Trust me when I say that I would like to omit this as much as you… But I am going to have to tell your father, at least.”

Leo groans, letting his head fall back on his pillows. “This sucks.”

“Then I will try to think of ways to make it suck less.” Draxum pulls the curtain aside. “Rest, Leonardo. I’ll bring your juice.”

Then he’s gone, leaving Leo alone.

-----

Raph puts the groceries down in the kitchen, then looks toward the escalator leading down. He should stay and help put everything away, but all he wants to do right now is rush to Leo’s side.

“Go,” says Splinter beside him. “I can take care of this.”

That’s all the permission Raph needs; he takes the escalator steps two at a time and crashes down onto the lower level.

Draxum is there, standing outside Leo’s train car and looking at one of his notebooks again. When he hears Raph, he closes it and looks up.

Raph’s eyes catch on the bruise forming on Draxum’s cheek and eye - it’s just starting to darken, but Raph can tell it’s going to be a plum shade of purple by the end of the day.

“He told me it wasn’t physical,” says Raph immediately. A little dangerously.

“It wasn’t, on my end,” says Draxum.

Raph finds that he believes that, and he can’t help the way his lips quirk up at the news.

Draxum scowls. “Yes, yes, very funny.”

Raph claps him on the shoulder. “Come on, Barry. You know you deserved it.”

“We can debate that later,” says Draxum, dry. He nods at the train car. “He’s in his room.”

“Raph figured.” He locks eyes on the room, wishing he could see past the curtains to know Leo’s state. “When you guys were fighting, he… called for us again.”

Draxum’s expression turns more concerned - nearly imperceptibly so, but Raph knows him well enough by now to see it. “Yes, I know.”

“You felt it?”

“No.” Draxum pulls away. “I have things to discuss with Lou Jitsu. Is he in the kitchen?”

“Yeah.” Raph wants to know what Draxum saw, but he always wants to get to Leo as fast as possible. In the end, the draw to his brother is stronger, and he steps forward. “Help him put the groceries up.”

“If I must,” says Draxum, and then he walks away toward the escalator. Raph doesn’t hang around to watch, instead hurrying to Leo’s room.

The room is a mess, even more than normally. His action figures are scattered everywhere, comic books have been knocked from the shelves, his blankets are on the floor. Leo himself is in bed, vacant expression staring at nothing Raph can see, and it’s an eerie way to see his little brother, usually never without his phone or a comic book in his quiet moments. 

He clears his throat, and Leo’s eyes flick his way. “Hey, Leo.”

“Hey.” Leo rouses himself to alertness, like he’d been sleeping with his eyes open. He shifts on his pillows so he can better see Raph. “You guys got the groceries?”

“Yeah, we did,” he assures Leo. He walks in, standing over Leo’s bed. He’d been so anxious to get back here, but now he finds himself trapped in the same place as always, unsure what to say or do.

Leo stares up at him. “…Everything okay, hermano?”

“I came to ask you that.” Raph sits down on the edge of the bed, then startles when something hard falls against his arm. He looks and finds a whiteboard, with numbers that make no sense to him written in neat columns (not Leo’s handwriting), and, across the top:

If you are hungry: eat.

Raph can’t help but stare at those words a few seconds longer. Is this something Leo needed to be told?

Beside him, Leo is saying, “Me and Drax got in a fight, but we worked it out. It’s fine.”

“Yeah.” Raph grins, tearing his eyes away from the whiteboard to look at Leo. “I saw the shiner you gave him.”

He’s expecting a grin back; for Leo’s expression to turn mischievous, or cocky. For Leo to proudly take credit for punching Draxum right in the eye.

He’s not expecting Leo to flinch and look away. “I thought he was better at dodging than that,” he says.

Raph falters, not sure how to respond. He knows Leo; his little brother would never hit anyone for no reason, even someone like Baron Draxum. Leo might playfight, Leo might even throw things at them from time to time, but he never aimed to hurt, only to irritate. 

Once again, Raph doesn’t know the right way to approach this situation. Should he try to talk to Leo about this? Is he the right person to try? Would Leo even want to hear it from Raph, who so often struggles with his own anger responses?

(He thinks about the fight again, and feels a rush of shame.)

He’s still trying to work it out when Leo changes the subject.

“Why didn’t you tell him?” Leo picks at some fuzz on his sheets. “About the chips.”

That’s something else Raph has been trying to figure out. But now, for this question at least, he has an answer.

“They didn’t have anyone’s name on ‘em.”

Leo’s fingers pause. “But you know I’m not supposed to eat those.”

“Yeah, well… I still wasn’t gonna tell. Raph’s not a snitch.” He shrugs. “Look, I know Barry’s right and you gotta be careful about what you eat so you don’t get sick. But this is still your house, Leo. We agreed a long time ago that unless food has someone’s name on it, it’s fair game.”

Leo actually smiles just a little at that, and Raph feels his heart leap at the sight. It’s not quite a full, big Leo smile, but it’s something. “And sometimes the name doesn’t stop us.”

Raph laughs. “That’s just because I got three little brothers who are a pain in the shell.” He reaches out to rub Leo’s head, and is a little surprised and a lot pleased when Leo doesn’t duck it. 

(It wraps around to concern again, when Leo seems to chase the touch like he’ll drown without it.)

“Listen,” he says, “Draxum gives you any more trouble and you just come tell me, okay? I’ll deal with it. We’ll get it worked out.” He moves his hand down to scratch the ridge of Leo’s shell, right where he can’t easily reach himself. “Raph’s got your back.”

Leo goes tense under his fingers, and Raph thinks he’s said something wrong. But the soft little, “Oh,” Leo says after isn’t upset. It’s just… surprised.

But why would he be surprised by that?

But when Raph thinks about it… when’s the last time he told Leo that? When’s the last time he felt like Leo had his back, too?

Somewhere along the way, he and Leo lost what made them them. Best friends, friendly rivals, brothers through thick and thin. It all got swallowed up by their fights and disagreements. And then Leo was taken from him.

But Leo isn’t gone. Leo is right here.

And suddenly Raph doesn’t know how he’s made it this long without hugging his little brother. He should have already. That should have been the first thing.

He moves the hand that’s scratching Leo’s shell to more firmly grab his back, watching close to see Leo’s reaction. Leo’s eyes flutter closed, like he feels totally safe, and Raph doesn’t waste the trust that’s been given to him.

He lifts Leo up and pulls him into his lap, wrapping his arms around in the safest bear hug he can give. Leo melts into it, his head leaning against Raph’s plastron, his arm coming up to loosely hook itself around Raph’s neck. 

“I gotcha, Leo,” he promises, cradling him close. “I gotcha.”

“I know,” says Leo, but Raph wonders if he really does. Raph hasn’t done a great job of showing it.

He still doesn’t know his answer. He still feels a stab in his heart when he thinks of Leo saying he did what a hero would. But April was right. Leo doesn’t need big emotional confrontations right now. He needs his big brother.

And Raph can do that. It’s the thing he’s best at.

“Hey,” he says, “wanna come watch Jupiter Jim: Venture to Venus with me?”

Leo opens his eyes to squint up at him. “Dee’ll hate it if he misses the sing-along parts,” he says, but now, finally, a little bit of his mischievousness is back.

Raph grins. “What Donnie doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Leo laughs then, small and tired and hoarse but there. Raph gives him another squeeze, then stands up and takes Leo with him.

He’s still unsettlingly light, like he was when Raph lifted him from the cot. But there’s a little more of him back.

If they get a little more of him every day, eventually, his little brother will truly be home.

-----

Leo stays in his lap for the movie. He makes no attempt to leave and Raph makes no attempt to remove him.

Splinter brings them lunch around the halfway mark: the alphabet soup they bought at the store for Leo, with bread and more banana for after. Leo complains that he’s not a little kid, but out of the corner of his eye Raph catches him industriously fishing around for the letters L, E, and O. He gets a little, self-satisfied smile on his face at his accomplishment, and Raph has to force his eyes to focus on the screen before he squishes Leo like one of his teddy bears.

After lunch, Leo dozes off. It’s not a surprise, especially given how eventful the morning was. Raph’s just glad it’s actual sleep and not that scary, blank-eyed stare he saw Leo with earlier.

Raph stays there after his arms fall asleep, after the movie ends, after he hears Donnie and Mikey come home (together, at least). He’d stay there all night, but Splinter comes in and puts a hand on his arm. He’s carrying a plate with a snack for Leo.

“Draxum wants to talk to you and Purple and Orange.”

Raph looks at Leo, still curled up against him, and shakes his head. “I don’t wanna leave him.”

“It’s alright. I will be here with him.” Splinter pats his arm again. “Take a break and stretch. You can sit with him after you’re done.”

Reluctantly, Raph gets up. He shifts Leo to the chair as carefully as he can (Leo murmurs in his sleep but doesn’t wake), then looks back at Splinter.

“You’ll be here when he wakes up, right?” he asks again.

(Maybe he’s still a little mad.)

“Yes,” Splinter promises. “I’ll be here.”

So Raph leaves. He shakes out his arms and legs, stiff from holding Leo, then swings by the bathroom before making his way to the kitchen. He can hear Mikey there already.

“-tell us what happened,” Mikey is saying, standing with his arms crossed and face angry. This is the most frustrated Raph can remember seeing Mikey act toward Draxum. Beside him, Donnie looks equally agitated.

“I have told your father what happened,” says Draxum, looking much more calm by comparison, “and we have agreed to maintain Leonardo’s privacy for now.”

“Is it about Leo’s privacy or do you think we just don’t deserve to know?” Mikey snaps. Raph knows that tone, and he knows this is about to turn into a fight.

He steps into the middle before it can. “Hold up, Mikey. Let’s hear him out.” His little brother does not seem happy with that, and he opens his mouth to argue, but before he can Raph refocuses on Draxum. “Tell us what’s goin’ on, Barry.”

Draxum’s eyes move slowly between all three of them before landing on Raph. “As I was telling your brothers, Lou Jitsu and I have agreed not to tell you all the details of what happened earlier, primarily because we are not sure how much Leonardo himself is comfortable with you knowing.”

It stings, but Raph knows he’s right. It’s like the security tapes Donnie chose not to watch. They have to let Leo decide how much they know and how much they don’t.

Still, Raph has his concerns. He folds his arms, mimicking his brothers behind him, and stares Draxum down. “Alright,” he says, and ignores the indignant noise Mikey makes behind him, “but did you tell Pops everything?”

“Yes.”

“Everything?”

“Yes,” Draxum repeats. “He needs to know, so we know how to care for Leonardo going forward.”

Raph isn’t as good at reading people as Leo, but it’s not like Draxum is an enigma, either. He doesn’t think the old goat is lying, so Raph relaxes his posture.

“Okay,” he says. “As long as Dad knows.”

“He did something so bad Leo punched him!” Mikey argues. “Leo doesn’t just do that!”

“In his defense,” says Donnie, “Draxum’s face is very punchable.”

Raph snorts at the indignant look Draxum gives that remark.

“Honestly,” says Draxum with a sigh, “all four of you boys are the same… But I can tell you that much.” He looks down, not meeting their eyes now. “I took food from your brother’s hands, before I realized what an error that is.”

All of them stiffen. Behind him, Raph senses Donnie shifting his weight in agitation. 

“You took food from him!?” cries Mikey. He sounds so betrayed. “Why!?”

“I was worried about him making himself sick,” Draxum explains. “But I did not handle it well. I have already apologized to him.”

“You better have!” Ah, there’s Doctor Delicate Touch.

“I have,” Draxum repeats. “And we have reached an understanding… which is what I need to talk to the three of you about.” He looks at them now. “There are going to be some new rules around here, at least for the duration of Leonardo’s recovery.”

“What rules?” asks Raph. “Besides don’t yank food out of Leo’s hands?”

“Well, that is an important one.” Draxum nods. “But we have also decided to adhere to a more strict meal schedule than you do normally. If meals are coming at regular, predictable times, we think this will reduce a lot of stress for Leonardo.”

Raph thinks of the words on the whiteboard. Of the neat rows of numbers. Does Leo wonder when he’ll be fed next? Does it scare him, not knowing?

Doesn’t he know his family would never let him go hungry?

“It makes sense,” says Donnie behind him. “We usually eat whenever we feel like it, but if Leo has to be careful with his diet, having a routine will make it easier.”

If Donnie thinks so, it’s probably right. Raph nods. “Yeah, sure. Whatever we gotta do to help Leo.”

Draxum nods back. “Right now, we’re planning for breakfast at eight, or whenever he wakes up, lunch at noon, and dinner at six. Leo will get regular snacks as well; smaller, more frequent meals are better for him right now than three large ones. Of course, the three of you can still do what you feel like; if you want your own snack, or want to eat later, you can.”

“Let’s all try to eat with Leo,” says Raph, looking back at his brothers. Donnie nods immediately; Mikey hesitates.

“Will Leo be in trouble,” he asks, “if he eats snacks when you didn’t tell him to?”

“No,” says Draxum. “I have already told him this. If he’s hungry, he can eat; he doesn’t need anyone to tell him he can.”

Raph’s glad to hear that; he knows he wouldn’t have been able to play food police. Mikey seems to calm down at this reassurance, too, and he nods.

“Okay. Then, we’re starting tonight? Dinner at six?”

“Yes.” Draxum seems relieved, that Mikey doesn’t look so angry anymore. “You can help me, if you want.”

“Duh,” says Mikey, and Draxum cringes. “I’ll be here!”

He and Donnie leave then; Donnie says he’s going to finish Leo’s curtains, and Mikey goes to his room. Raph hangs back, watching Draxum.

“You sure you didn’t touch him?” he asks, once he’s sure his brothers are out of earshot.

Draxum looks at him, open, not hiding. “I did not. I acted rashly, but I would not lay a hand on him.”

“…Okay. I believe you.” Raph folds his arms. “But if Leo ever tells me anything different, you know what happens next, right?”

“I do. But I would not hurt him.” Draxum looks nonchalant, despite the conversation. “Despite my best efforts, I’ve grown fond of all of you. I’m here to help him.”

Raph can’t help but smile at that. It’s probably as close as Barry will ever get to being affectionate.

“Thanks, then. For all you’re doin’.” Raph turns to leave. “But don’t yank food out of his hands again.”

“I won’t. You have my word.”

Raph decides to take it.

-----

“Blue…? Are you awake?”

Leo blinks his eyes open to find Splinter peering down at him, a plate in his hand. Blearily, he sits up in the recliner. It takes him a moment to realize he’s by himself now - Raph has gone.

It makes him feel a little sad. He knows Raph still has something he wants to yell about, but there for a short while, it was really nice to just be his little brother.

Now his dad is here, with food. Leo remembers the chart Draxum gave him - breakfast, lunch, snack, dinner, snack - and feels his heart relax.

“Hey, Dad. Yeah, I’m awake.”

“Very good. I have brought you some more yogurt and fruit.”

“Yippee,” says Leo, tone flat. “I’m gonna be the most regular guy on the planet after this.”

Splinter laughs at that, and it makes Leo feel a little sense of triumph. “Cherish it while you’re young.”

“Ew, gross,” he says, and Splinter laughs again.

Leo eats his snack. The projector skips on the screen, still on but with nothing set to play. Splinter settles in on the arm of the chair and waits until Leo’s almost done.

Then he says, “Draxum told me what happened earlier.”

Leo goes stiff. He swallows his bite of banana around the knot in his throat. 

“Yeah, he… said he was going to tell you.”

“I’m sorry that he was so harsh with you. You are not in trouble for taking the chips. The food in this lair is as much yours as it is any of ours.”

“I know,” says Leo, even though he’s not sure of anything anymore. But it’s what Splinter wants to hear.

“I won’t be leaving you alone with him again.” Splinter pats his arm. “He may be reformed, but he is still stupid, and not at all fit to take care of children!”

“Which is what makes him perfect for a public school lunchroom,” says Leo, and grins when it gets another laugh out of his dad.

Leo finishes his snack. The projector is still skipping. It makes a little clicking noise every few seconds.

“...Leonardo,” says Splinter, and Leo tenses up again.

“Oh no, full name…”

“You are not in trouble,” says Splinter again. Leo wonders why he keeps saying that. “But I have to ask you this again. When you were… with the EPF. Did anyone touch you in any way?”

Leo stares at him. Why are they having this conversation again?

“No. I told you that, remember?”

“I remember. But I have to make sure.” Splinter puts his hand on Leo’s. Leo stares at it. “Did anyone… make you do something you didn’t want to do?”

“Uh… besides stay there?”

“Leonardo.” Splinter’s tone is not angry, but Leo still winces. “I understand that this is uncomfortable to talk about. But I need to know for your safety. Did any of them do anything to you? Or make you do something to them? To yourself?”

Leo stares at his dad’s hand. He thinks of getting down on his knees and begging.

“...No.” He gives his head a shake. “They didn’t even hit me or anything.” And it’s the truth.

They didn’t really do anything to him at all.

“...Alright.” Splinter leans over and presses a kiss to the top of Leo’s head. Leo keeps his eyes on their hands and listens to the skip of the projector. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Yeah. Sure.” He hands the empty plate over and sinks further into the recliner cushions. He wishes the conversation hadn’t curdled the snack in his guts. “Uh, can we… turn on something so the projector isn’t making that sound?”

“Oh, yes!” Splinter sets the plate aside, then grabs for the remote. “It is aaalmost time for Scorpion Treadmill!”

Leo snorts despite himself. “Sure, sounds great.”

Splinter finds the channel and settles into the chair next to Leo. Leo closes his eyes and listens to the Japanese he can barely understand and his dad’s laughter, and tries to ignore the way his own skin feels slimy.

-----

After dinner, and after his snack, Donnie shows him the new curtains.

The new rods are just as makeshift as the ones from the day before, with the same color and the same details. Leo loves them. He tells Donnie so, and Donnie grins big and happy, and Leo feels happy, too, that he can still make at least one brother look like that.

“Oh, I’m so glad you like them!” says Donnie, for what must be the fifth time. “But seriously, if you want me to add some smart tech to them, just say the word.”

“Thanks but no thanks, Dee. I don’t want my curtains to gain sentience on me.”

Donnie pouts, but it’s good natured. He comes over and sits on the bed next to Leo, the two of them looking around his room. It’s crazy to Leo, how different it looks now. Though, maybe the mess is contributing to that feeling…

“It’s so dark in here now,” Donnie observes. His tone is totally neutral in a way Donnie could never hope to fake, so Leo doesn’t take it as a judgment.

Which is good, because Leo doesn’t know how to explain that he likes it that way. That the dark makes him feel calm and safe. Hidden.

“I could always add more lighting,” he says instead. He has his lanterns and a desk lamp, but he has to admit, some things will be harder without the ambient lights from outside.

“Oh, I can do that next!” says Donnie. “What kind of lighting do you want? I can see what I have in the lab-”

“Whoa, hey,” says Leo quickly. He reaches over and flicks Donnie on his big forehead. (It lacks any force, because Leo is still weak, but Donnie says, “Ow!” exaggeratedly anyway.) “I get that you’re trying to help, but you’ve done enough. I know you must have some battleshell or robot or nuclear bomb you’re dying to work on instead.”

Donnie falters at that. He eyes Leo, the same way everyone does lately, like he’s some kind of timebomb that might go off.

“I just want you to be comfortable,” he says.

“What do you mean? I’m super comfy!” Leo waves the sleeve of his hoodie in demonstration. “It’s the lair, Don-ton. Same as always.”

Donnie’s expression goes even flatter. He turns his eyes on the train car walls. “Same as always? It hasn’t even been a year.”

Leo flinches. Right, well… So it’s not the same as ever. But it’s the same as the one he was stolen from, and that’s all that matters, right?

“You know what I mean.” He bumps their shoulders together. “It’s home. It’s where you guys are. I’m totally fine.”

And he means that.

He means it, he means it, he means it.

“...Right.” Donnie is trying to sound like he believes Leo. “Well, if you change your mind about the lighting, you know where to find me.”

“I sure do, hermano.” He bumps their shoulders again. “Thanks, though.”

They sit for a moment in silence. Leo wonders if he should offer a late night movie session, or if he should send Donnie on his way. He’s torn. He doesn’t really want to be alone. But he doesn’t want to bother Donnie more than he already has.

Before he can decide, Donnie’s phone dings. He picks it up and clicks something on his screen.

“What’s up?” asks Leo.

“Oh nothing.” Donnie waves a hand. “Draxum just finally decided to leave. About time…”

“Huh? How do you… know…”

Leo leans over on his shoulder to look, and answers his own question.

Cameras. Of course Donnie has cameras. This one is outside the entrance to the lair from the sewers, and Leo can see Draxum’s retreating back as he heads for the nearest manhole.

“The camera alerts me whenever anyone other than one of the five of us leaves,” Donnie is saying. “It’s part of the security upgrades I’ve been working on.”

“Security upgrades,” Leo repeats, feeling a little faint.

Donnie doesn’t notice, jumping on the chance to infodump. “Yes! I’ve added more cameras, and proximity alarms, and I’ve been working on more upgrades to our trackers, like I told you. Oh, and new security measures for my baby, of course. And once Shelldon’s new body is complete, I’ll integrate him with the system as well, and…”

Donnie’s still talking, but Leo can’t hear it. His eyes are tracking all around his train car - the dark corners, the shelves, the nooks and crannies.

Donnie has cameras all over the lair.

Where are the cameras in here?

-----

For another night in a row, Leo doesn’t sleep.

[weasleyreidstyles]

Serendipity

chapter seven

summary: it was only meant to be a purely transactional relationship. he would help her strengthen her abilities in return for her getting his friends out of his father's nasty path. he didn't mean to fall for her, but loving her was the easiest thing in his dark world.

no use of y/n, but your general nickname is Meadow. all characters are aged up to be over 18.

pairings: mattheo riddle x fem!ravenclaw reader; platonic!slytherins x fem!reader; platonic!golden trio x fem!reader

warning(s): this is quite long, canonical voldemort style violence, use of one wizard slur (bloodtraitor), one mention of torture, parental death (minor mentions)

series masterlist; previous part; next part

The weeks flew by after that day in the Room of Requirement. In those weeks, you and Mattheo had gotten nowhere with researching your newfound siphon abilities, as most literature was just a regurgitation of previous works. The two of you grew closer, sessions usually ending in a spontaneous make out or sensual tryst, but he still refused to go any further than that. Refused to be completely vulnerable with you. Safe to say that your days were a lot more interesting, but it was becoming harder to hide your clear feelings from the prying eyes of your curious friends.

Harry had been frequently visiting Dumbledore's office for his own lessons of sorts and he had learned more about Mattheo's father, Tom Riddle, but nothing about why he needed one of Slughorn's specific memories.

The four of you were slaving away in one of the Herbology greenhouses when Hermione brought up the subject of Slughorn's illustrious dinner parties, which Harry had been avoiding.

"There's no way you'll be able to get out of this one because he actually asked me to check your free evenings, so he could be sure to have it on a night you can come." she said, wrestling with the weird pod-like creature that you were studying for that week.

Harry groaned as you snickered at his misfortune. Meanwhile, Ron, who was attempting to burst his pod in the bowl by putting both hands on it, standing up, and squashing it as hard as he could, shared a look with you and said angrily, "And this is another party just for Slughorn's favorites, is it?"

"Just for the Slug Club, yes," said Hermione, annoyance written on her face.

The pod flew out from under Ron's fingers and hit the green house glass, rebounding onto the back of Professor Sprout's head and knocking off her old, patched hat, causing you, Ron and Harry to let out loud laughs that died out at the Professor's unimpressed look sent your way.

Harry went to retrieve the pod while Hermione carried on, "Look, I didn't make up the name 'Slug Club'—"

"'Slug Club,'" repeated Ron with a sneer worthy of one of Malfoy's. "It's pathetic. Well, I hope you enjoy your party. Why don't you try hooking up with McLaggen, then Slughorn can make you King and Queen Slug—"

"You almost sound jealous, Won Won." you teased, using Lavender's cringe-worthy nickname that he clearly abhorred. Despite having a girlfriend, you just knew that somewhere deep down in his stupid, stupid brain, Ron still had feelings for Hermione.

"We're allowed to bring guests," Hermione, who had turned a bright, boiling scarlet, snapped, "I would have asked you, but I don't think your girlfriend would like that very much."

You turned to face Ron as he gufawed at your best friend. "Don't worry Ronald, I'm not one of his favourites either. Teddy's invited me as his plus one for this one, I'll let you know what we're definitely not missing out on." He only glared at you again in response.

Theodore had asked you to accompany him so that he wouldn't be stood alone as Blaise flirted his way through the other pureblood attendees. You had agreed and he gave you free reign of his Gringott's vault to choose a dress from a boutique that Pansy had graciously taken you to. It paid well to have a rich friend or two in this world.

It seemed that everyone knew of Slughorn's party and the chance of going as a guest with one of his members – you and Hermione caught Romilda Vane and her friends whispering about 'Harry' and 'Fred and George' and 'Love Potions' in one of the girls' toilets in the intermission between Transfiguration and Potions, and had watched in shock as they discreetly opened one of the twins' own Love Potions disguised as perfumes between them. You had both warned him to be wary of them, but of course Harry rarely listened to the two of you.

The three of you were walking out of the now-closed library, Ron off with Lavender Brown somewhere, when Romilda came up to him and offered him a bottle of Gilllywater. Hermione's i-told-you-so look had him declining it, but she seemed prepared and had shoved a pink heart shaped box of chocolates into his arms.

"Chocolate Cauldrons." the girl had said. "They have fire whiskey in them. My grandma sent them, but I don't like them."

Romilda smiled before walking away.

"Definitely firewhiskey in there," you say sarcastically. "Give it a whiff before you eat them. Make sure it's not Ginny you're smelling." you say before leaving the pair, laughing at Harry's disgruntled look and making your way to the Ravenclaw common room, intent on researching a book on Mermaids and Siphoners, but you weren't confident that you'd find information that wasn't in the books you'd already combed through.

~∞~

"I'm going with Luna." Harry said the next day. "To Slughorn's party. I'm going with Luna."

"That's wonderful, Harry." you say with a smile. "She really needs a pick-me-up bless her. Some idiot in her year keeps stealing all her things."

The girl came and told you not an hour later, an excited gleam in her pale blue eyes.

~∞~

A few days later, you were waiting outside the Slytherin common room, nervously smoothing out nonexistent creases from the fine silk of your deep green evening gown. You had agreed to meet Theo, Blaise and Pansy here before walking to Professor Slughorn's office together, where the dinner party was being held.

Hesitantly, you knocked on the door to the common room, not knowing the password for it, obviously. The person who answered it made you want to smite them immediately – Greggory Goyle was as nasty as they came.

"What do you want, bloodtraitor?" he spat as he glared down at you, before his beady eyes snapped to your body, namely your chest.

"Not that it concerns the likes of you," you say, voice full of venom, "But I'm waiting for my date to Slughorn's dinner party."

"What poor soul agreed to take you to something as sophisticated as a dinner party?" the boy sneered, his gaze beginning to become an uncomfortable hindrance before your friend's voice rung out into the empty corridor.

"I did, Goyle. Now kindly fuck off." Theodore snapped before his gaze softened on your form. "Tesoro, you look dazzling." his face lit up with a smile as he twirled you under his arm.

"Thank you, Teddy." you flushed, while giving him a once over. "My, my, don't you clean up nicely." he swatted away the hand that patted his cheek.

As you were greeting Theo, the rest of his friends exited the common room, Lorenzo announcing that you'd have to wait for Blaise to 'stop staring at his reflection' as he did. It was obvious that Theo and Pansy were regulars at illustrious dinner parties: Theo wore a tailored suit, with a crisp white shirt and a dark green silk waistcoat and tie (charmed to match the exact colour of your own dress); Pansy wore a sleek dress in a rich shade of deep plum and her face was painted exquisitely with makeup that accentuated her pretty siren eyes, her short black hair styled into a flattering bob. She had come right up to see you in the dress she'd helped you pick out: a dark green silky number that hugged your body in the most flattering way.

She was busy fawning over the way your hair fell over your shoulders gracefully, when the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end and you felt a familiar prickle in the back of your mind. You turned to find Mattheo, white shirt partly unbuttoned, hair disheveled and eyes slightly bloodshot as he admired you with no shame. The way his deep, onyx eyes took you in from head to toe made you feel hot all over, and the words he spoke into your mind, made you melt even further. If that was even possible.

You look beautiful, love.

You smile at him in gratitude which was sent in waves to the forefront of his mind – a new trick he had taught you. He nodded his head with a proud smirk which sent flutters right to your core.

You look much better in Slytherin green than Ravenclaw blue, darling. You should indulge more often.

The boy was actually flirting with you and he basked in the sight of your flustered expression.

Pansy was the only one of the surrounding group to see your interaction and she gave you a look that you understood was her way of telling you that the two of you would be discussing this later.

Finally Blaise, who had just stumbled out of the stonewall entrance, said with an exasperated breathe: "Let's get this over with, please. I want to get there so I can leave earlier. If Slughorn asks me about my mother's latest husband one more time I may explode."

You stifle a laugh behind your hand as the tallest Slytherin glares down at you. "Were you not the one making us all wait in favour of admiring yourself in the mirror, Zabini?"

"When you have a face like mine, it must be admired Meadow." he replied with a self-assured smirk. Lorenzo practically guffawed at this, which is when you notice that his eyes were bloodshot like Mattheo's. But he was always a cheerful boy, seeing him laugh was a regular occurrence within this group.

Soon after Blaise appeared, you hooked an arm in the crook of Theo's elbow and the four of you began your walk to the classroom, completely missing the glare that Mattheo was pointing at the back of his best friend's head.

Compared to other offices you'd seen, Slughorn's was namely the biggest. Drapes of emerald, crimson and gold were streamed about the ceilings and walls, creating a tent-like effect about the room and thousands of faeries fluttered about the golden glow of where the apex of the drapes met, the faint fluttering of their wings could be heard over the music and chatter. The moment the four of you entered you'd commented on how crowded and stuffy it was as a live classical band played over the loud conversation from older wizards all around the room.

"I didn't know he invited elders here." you mumble to Theo who hums at you.

"It's all networking. A way to secure future positions in the Ministry." he said, resentment dripping from his tongue.

"And you don't want that?" you ask, staring at his profile, thanking him when he gave you a flute of champagne.

"I wanted to be a professional quidditch player, but my father wants me to follow in his footsteps." he says, before dropping his voice to a mere whisper. "And I mean that in all senses of the word, tesoro. It's not something I particularly want."

You hummed at his answer but squeezed his arm all the same. He sent you a sideways glance full of warmth. You'd almost forgotten about what he would endure during the upcoming holidays; it made you feel inexplicably guilty that you'd be having fun with your friends and family while Theo would be suffering.

Blaise and Pansy had already found themselves at the table of food platters with Daphne Greengrass, which is where you also found Harry, Hermione, Luna and Cormac Mclaggen. You grabbed Theo's hand and dragged him towards them, ignoring his discontent with being within radius of Harry and Mclaggen.

"Hi guys! Mclaggen." you say as you reach the quartet. "Mione, Luna you both look gorgeous."

They both thank you before all four of them frown at the boy behind you. "Oh for Rowena's sake, he won't bite, will you Teddy?" You sent him a pointed look over you shoulder, which had him instantly agreeing, albeit reluctantly.

"Only if they don't bite first." he says, his deep, accented voice dripping with uninterest. "Let's go and dance, tesoro. Make the night a little less unbearable."

You agreed and spent a majority of the night sipping on expensive wine and laughing with your three Slytherin friends, mindful to avoid Harry's looks of something that you couldn't name that he sent your way.

~∞~

The four of you spent hours dancing, only interrupted when Harry asked to steal you away to dance with him, as Luna had become caught up in a conversation with Ginny, Dean Thomas namely absent from her side. While you and Harry were contently swaying, there was a disturbance at the entrance.

You watched in the corner of your eye as Harry's face lit up with a sinister smirk at the sight of Malfoy being dragged into the room by Filtch who had him by the scruff of his robes.

"Professor Slughorn!" he said in his typically slimy voice. "Found this one lurking in the corridors upstairs. Claims he was invited to your party but was delayed in attending. Did you issue an invitation?"

If looks could kill, Filtch would be six feet deep.

Malfoy was glaring at the man with distain and fury as he yanked himself free of the caretaker's grasp, brushing away imaginary flecks of dirt from his rumpled suit.

"All right, I wasn't invited!" he said angrily. "I was trying to gatecrash, happy?"

Filtch was evidently not happy about this, but the look of immense joy that crossed his face sent shivers down your spine.

"You're in trouble, you are! Didn't the Headmaster say that night-time prowling's out, unless you've got permission, eh?"

Slughorn dissipated the situation with drunken ease, inviting Malfoy to stay for the remainder of the dinner party. Harry's face was a picture of bewilderment, mirroring Filtch's one of overwhelming disappointment.

"He looks a bit ill doesn't he?" you say under your breathe as Hermione comes to stand beside you.

"Who?" Harry asked, dumbly. You stared at him with a deadpan expression on your face.

"Malfoy. He does look ghastly pale." Hermione mumbled while you all watched as he chatted away to Slughorn about his grandfather.

"He's up to something." Harry said obstinately. You and Hermione shared a look and simultaneously rolled your eyes.

"You've got to stop with this Harry. You don't know for certain that he's a Death Eater." Hermione muttered, keeping her voice low enough that others wouldn't hear. "It's bad enough that you outright accused him in front of Professor Mcgonagall and Professor Snape."

"I still can't believe you had the audacity, to do that." you say, but Harry wasn't listening to either of you. In fact he followed right out behind Snape and Malfoy when they exitted the room, not ten minutes after the latter's noisy arrival.

"Oh for fuck's sake." you grit your teeth at your friend's stubbornness. Hermione shook her head before dragging you over to where Luna and Ginny were stood, having watched Harry sneak out.

~∞~

With the Christmas holidays finally upon you, you were spending a few days at the Burrow with Ron's family before you floo'd home to your family.

Hermione's lack of presence seemed to lay heavily upon you as you sat next to the empty seat in the kitchen that she'd always sit in. You don't know how she puts up with Ron and Harry without you – a headache was slowly building up in your temples as Ron asked Harry to repeat what he'd heard when he followed Snape and Malfoy out, for the millionth time, as the three of you polished Mrs. Weasley's cutlery.

Finally reaching a breaking point of sorts you snap at the pair.

"If you defy the unbreakable vow, you die. It's a sacred pact, Harry. Are you certain that Snape accepted one?" they turn to look at you as if forgetting you were there.

Ron nodded in agreement. "Yeah. Fred and George almost convinced me to make one when I was five, but Dad went mental when he found us. Only time he's ever been scarier than mum." he pauses before adding an anecdote about Fred being punished pretty severely, which seems to summon the two giant twins into the kitchen, clad in expensive slacks, making fun of the fact that Ron and Harry were still not of age yet – unlike you. Fred turned to you then, a bright smile lighting up his face.

"Hello gorgeous, how are you coping with these ninnies without Mione?" he had a dazzling smirk on his face, which you would've fallen for once upon a time, had a polar opposite, wicked smirk not taken up your entire mind.

"Barely, as usual. How've you been, Freddie?" you smile up at him as he sits on the edge of the table, leg brushing your's.

Ron dramatically gagged, interpreting this as a flirtatious interaction. This turned the twins' attention onto him once more.

"We've heard through the grape vine that you have a new beau, Won Won." George said with a smirk. Ron turned to glare at you and you held your hands up in surrender. If you could use your legillimens abilities on him, you'd be screaming "it wasn't me, I swear!", but Ron would surely have a heart attack if you so much as whispered into his mind.

"Lavender Brown, was it? That's what Ginny said in her letters. How'd you manage to bag a girl, Ronniekins?" Fred chimed and they snickered as Ron's face went bright red.

"Piss off, will you." Ron mumbled, you and Harry smirked at his discomfort. "She's sweet."

"And here I thought he and Mione would've overlooked their pride and gotten together by now." Fred murmured to you, his breathe hitting the shell of your ear. You turned to face him, finding his alluring blue eyes staring right into your own.

"I believe that means you owe me a galleon...or five. I recall a bet we made at the Yule Ball, Weasley. It's time to pay up." you say, your eyes glinting mischievously as you held out your palm expectantly.

"You and your memory will ruin me, woman." he mutters scornfully, but he gives you a stack of galleons, discreetly nonetheless. You smile victoriously.

"Good to know business is treating the two of you well, Freddie." he smiles and shares a look with George.

"When are you coming to visit the shop, Meadow?" George asks as he uses his wand to slow Ron's polishing down.

"Is that an official invitation, Weasley?" you ask, satisfied with the peace you feel by being in the Burrow again, despite Hermione not being there.

~∞~

Mattheo hates his father with a burning passion. Tom Riddle was a cold, manipulative and tyrannical man who was absolutely not fit for the role of 'dad'. It's ironic, he thinks, that he should have a father who was incapable of feeling love, in all senses of the word. But Tom had loved Mattheo's mother once, in some sick and twisted way. Maybe it wasn't love, but he had a sick devotion for the woman that Mattheo never got to meet. She died after giving birth to the Riddle heir.

When his father was defeated all those years ago, Mattheo was handed off to the first family that bothered to know of his existence. Theodore Nott Senior was even less of a good father, to both him and Theo. But Teddy's mother took on the responsibility of showing them what it is to be kind, loving and compassionate.

That all withered away upon her death when he was only eight years old. It broke him, but it broke little Theo even more to lose the only parent who ever cared for him. Over the years, the well-mannered, inquisitive little boy transitioned into a coldhearted, unfeeling person, but sometimes Mattheo wished that people saw him for who he truely was, instead of the person they painted because of who his father was.

It's the reason he feels so drawn to you, he summises.

Someone who should hate him, someone who should despise him for all that he is, looked past his carefully constructed armour and saw that broken boy within. He wondered how long that would last, when you found out how much of his facade was his true identity. In his eyes, Mattheo was a monster. A carbon copy of his father.

The vast dining room that he found himself seated in felt entirely too small. The atmosphere was ripe with anticipation as the Dark Lord himself stared down at them from his erected throne at the head of the table. Mattheo sat in the seat adjacent to him, as his 'right hand man'. Showing that he would never be anything more than a soldier to his father. Lucius Malfoy sat opposite him, Bellatrix Lestrange in the next seat as she nodded in rapt attention to whatever Voldemort was saying.

The doors to the entrance hall of Malfoy Manor swung open with a slow and menacing creak, inviting Draco to walk in, followed closely by Theo and Enzo.

This is the part of the holidays that Mattheo had been dreading the most.

"Thank you kindly for fetching me our guests, Draco. Please be seated boys, and let dinner be served." Voldemort's hand sweeped through the air and the three chairs beside Mattheo pushed out at their own accord; his friends took the seats wordlessly, Theo seating in the one opposite Bellatrix.

Shortly after, the family's house elves wordlessly clicked their fingers and a feast appeared before them all. Mattheo didn't touch a single piece of food on his plate. Neither did his three friends, his brothers. He was infinitely grateful that Blaise and Pansy were not here. He planned on maintaining that for as long as he possibly could.

After the food, some of which had barely been touched by the hoard of Death Eaters in attendance, had disappeared, Voldemort stood up, towering above them all like an angel of death.

"Now we indulge in my favourite part of the evening." he says, clapping his thin, boney hands together delicately. "Theodore, Lorenzo...please, join me."

He held out his hands, offering the 'stage' to his son's friends. Mattheo had to physically claw at the seat beneath him to refrain from stopping them as they obeyed. Theo's chest shook with uneven breathes and Enzo didn't dare look anyone in the eye. Draco shifted uncomfortably in his seat, unprepared to watch his friends submit to the same fate.

"Who wants to go first?" Voldemort asked the two boys, his snake-like voice coated in something akin to excitement and glee. When neither boy spoke up, he slammed a hand to the table, causing everyone in near viscinity to flinch. A vision of pure psychotic rage paints the monster's face.

"Fine." he snapped. "Mattheo, my son, come up here please."

Mattheo schooled his features and locked any thoughts of his friends, of you, up tight. When he was within reach of his father, Voldemort caressed his shoulders, strong from years of relentless Quidditch training, and whispered, his voice a mere hiss as he spoke in the tongue that only the two of them, and Harry Potter could understand.

Choose. He whispered. Who will go first? Choose and I'll spare you my wrath later.

Mattheo didn't know what to do, he was crumbling in front of his father's loyalist of followers, who were snickering and whispering amongst themselves. The insurmountable feeling of guilt festered in his stomach, a sick feeling persisting in his gut. How could he subject any of his friends to this?

CHOOSE! Or I will hunt down anything you hold dear. That is a promise, boy.

He couldn't let his father know about you. He knew the moment he discovered your abilities, Voldemort would seek you out and trap you with no hope of escape and use you for his own power hungry means. He couldn't let that happen.

"I'll go first." Theo's voice broke through his inner turmoil and Voldemort's sinister smirk travelled to his best friend's face. Theo was masking his terror well, but Mattheo saw right through him. Enzo visibly sagged in relief, no matter how short lived it was. He straightened when Mattheo entered his mind.

Don't show weakness. It'll be over soon, I promise brother. I'm sorry.

He gave an almost imperceptible nod. His features schooled into masked indifference.

"Theodore, my boy." Voldemort crooned. "What a good example you set for our young recruits. So...eager." a dig at Draco, who was yet to make headway in his task. "Come."

He beckoned Theo with a single come-hither motion. Theo moved with poised grace and knelt before the Dark Lord, staring up at the creature with stoney eyes. "Just like your mother." he tutted, and Mattheo clenched his fists tightly, fury painting his veins in vibrant fire. "It's a shame, truely."

Voldemort took hold of Theodore's left arm with bruising force but did the opposite of what Mattheo expected. "Mattheo, come. Since you failed to choose, you will do the honours for me. Mark him."

He began to protest, but Fenrir Greyback was behind him in seconds, pushing him to the ground with brute force. He struggled and fought until his father held a hand that physically stopped the fight with his magic.

"I won't do it." Mattheo spat. "No."

Voldemort's head contorted the way a snake's would when agitated and he shot a singular curse at his son with no hesitation.

Mattheo writhed as the effects of the Cruciatus curse overtook all his senses. Consumed in his agony he failed to acknowledge the sound of his best friends' grunts and screams as their skin was branded with the skull and snake of the Dark Mark, identical to the one festering on his scarred left arm.

There was no saving them now.

But at least Blaise and Pansy were safe in their own manors, not privvy to the price he would eventually pay in exchange for their own freedom and safety.

~∞~

hope everyone had a lovely christmas and a happy nye🫶🏼 thought i'd give you a long chapter by delving into a mattheo pov ;)

i love my degree but sometimes psychology makes me want to rip out my hair🙃🙂

taglist:

@camille-1019 @lovelyygirl8 @xluansstuff @babeylover @thejadeazalea @undercover-smutlover @adhxmoony @dreamingofonceuponatime @thepassionatereader @urmomsgayforme5 @aphroditeisamilf @devotedlycrookeddonut @purplegirls-posts @nofacenonamelikekira @foxboyapologist @lafrone @lovely-maryj @nromanovaswife @leeknows-wife @dracygf @wildlyobserving @ravenclawprincess33 @melllinaa @vellicora @lantsovheiress @emiliahoward @stunkbiggu @vcosette @prongsprincessworld @mattiesgirl @rachmmb @x-kermit-x @sun-fiower-seed @cas-planet @certaindreampost @weirdowithnobeardo @mikalovesicecream @sunasbbie @rainy-darling @faeriepigeons @lovely-blackinnon @topguncultleader @gimalo135

[lightfeltmemories]

soft feitan headcanons

note: hey y'all, in my previous post i stated that i was making some soft feitan headcanons, and it's been a while since i've actually made content on here because of writers block. what made me make this post in the first place is that i don't see a lot of posts of a normal feitan relationship, it's like 98% yandere, dark and hard smut, etc. don't get me wrong i get why and i find them pretty entertaining but i feel like a lot of y'all exaggerate his personality and it's lowkey cringe sometimes, so i wanna switch some things up and introduce something new.

tags & warnings: fem imagined reader but i kept it androgynous so anyone can enjoy, some mentions of torture, death, etc because thats stuff he does obviously but it won't be on reader, reader speaks his language.

feitan would definitely want a normal relationship with you, the staying at home watching movies, cooking dinner for each other, sleeping and waking up next to one another type, he may not be the most romantic such as taking you to fancy restaurants or proposing to you but something to come home to after weeks & months of torturing people for the troupe.

he's not the type to verbalize "i love you," but show you in a multitude of ways, stealing things you talk endless about, trying his best to be there for you in need, taking care of you while you're sick (even if he doesn't know wtf he's doing), and just doing everything he can to make you happy.

the only problem is, he can't allow the troupe to know of you and vice versa, not even a hint of you, not only because he'll be teased about being whipped but if you do know, theres a high chance you might be a threat in some way, most likely a snitch, so if something happens to where you find out about his business, something very bad is going to happen.

and that proves to be the hardest part of the relationship, he knows what chrollo would do to you if you were to ever find out about his work and he is very paranoid about it, especially if you two are out in public for whatever reason.

but, thankfully, he's pretty good at hiding his job even if he thinks he isn't, and the two of you live happily together.

he lets you do his hair, it's naturally curly and very soft, he also secretly uses your shampoo and conditioner, and has may or may not stalked you while you wash it to learn what you do with it.. how he straightened his hair? i dunno.

if you speak his language, it's like you were sent from heaven, he can finally have someone to talk to in his native tongue, he can't even do that with the troupe, but if you don't (which theres a 99% chance you wont) he can teach you, it's a long process but you'll get there.

he's very protective of you, has no problem eliminating anyone who is stupid enough to ever touch you, he might use that free alone time for whenever you're at work to torture this person if he's having a particularly good day, even though his time away from the troupe is his time away from any work, but he does enjoy the act none the less on a one off occasion.

feitan is actually not the jealous type, he's pretty content with you interacting with the opposite sex, as long as he doesn't see any underlying hints of potential romantic attraction everything is all clear.

he may not be the best at showing emotion, but you're the best thing that has ever happened to him, you'll make him feel things he's never truly felt before.

[baileypie-writes]

💕🩷hello ! I wanted to ask if you could possibly do more velvet and venner with a younger sibling?

Ok so how will velvet and venner react to their younger sibling (who was born with actual talent of singing) being use by another famous singer just as they use the trolls to become famous, like, the singer is stealing the younger sibling's talent to have a beautiful voice and keep getting famous and the younger sibling is becoming pale and weak (just as Floyd was) and maybe velvet and venner getting along with the trolls to save their younger sibling.

Hope you could understand, sorry if I'm sending this in the wrong time. Take your time and hope you could do it, if not then it's completely ok!

A/N ~ Omg, I love this idea! I decided to make this into multiple parts, since one would be too long. Part 2 should be out pretty soon. Hope you enjoy!

~I Want to Break Free~

Velvet and Veneer + Younger Sibling!Reader

Part 2 here!

Fandom: Trolls 3: Band Together

Relationship: Familial

Synopsis: Velvet and Veneer find out that your talent is being stolen by a famous singer. So they team up with the trolls to save their little sibling.

Warnings: Reader being tortured(not detailed/graphic), cringe

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Veneer noticed it first. You were pale, and seemed weaker. He told Velvet, and both were concerned. Of course they asked you what was wrong, but you just claimed that you were tired.

This wasn’t exactly a lie. You were very tired. But the reason why is what you couldn’t tell your siblings.

You were born with a natural singing talent, unlike Velvet and Veneer. You always viewed this skill as a blessing. But for the past week, you wish you didn’t have it.

~~~

It all started when you posted a video of yourself singing a song by your favorite artist, Lemon Pop, on the internet. You went viral, and even got noticed by her. You were lucky enough to meet her in real life, and you even thought you became friends. Unfortunately, you were very wrong.

Lemon Pop was a fraud, just like your siblings were. She was inspired by how they stole the talent of trolls, and wanted to do the same. But after using a troll, she decided that it wasn’t enough for her. So after she saw your video, she knew immediately that she wanted your talent. She lured you in with her friendly facade, and when she finally had you close, she let her real personality shine. She’s a rude, manipulative and straight up abusive person. Way worse than how Velvet was in her glory days.

She forces you to attend all her performances, and stealing your talent before going on stage. She always threatens to ruin your life if you refuse or tell anyone. So not knowing what else to do, you play the role as her friend.

It’s so painful when everyone calls you lucky. You’d think that being best friends with a pop star would be the greatest thing in the world. But after feeling your talent leave your body in a painful, exhausting process for what felt like the millionth time, you wish you’d never posted that video of you singing.

~~~

“Where’s (name)?” Veneer asked.

“They’re with that ‘Lemon Pop’ girl again.” Velvet responded. Almost like that summoned her, the channel that was playing on the TV started mentioning her.

“Once again, Lemon Pop’s song is at the top of the music charts!” The announcer stated. It went on to show a clip of Lemon Pop receiving an award. You were there in the background, but anyone who knew you could tell that you were not well.

“Did (name) dye their hair?” Veneer asked.

“Uh, I don’t think so. Why?” Velvet responded.

“Because there’s some white in it.”

Velvet turned to the TV, and saw that he was correct. But your hair wasn’t the only odd thing about you. You looked exhausted, way worse than you seemed before. And for some reason, you were wearing long sleeves, long pants and gloves. It was warm in Mount Rageous, so your outfit was strange. Even more so, because you were visibly sweating a lot.

Before Velvet and Veneer could question your state to each other, loud knocking could be heard from outside their window, followed by a familiar voice.

“Velvet! Veneer! It’s us, Brozone!”

They thought they’d never see those faces again. It was the trolls. The ones that ruined their careers, and sent them to prison. They were banging on the window frantically.

Velvet stomped over to them. “What the hell are you doing here? Come to ruin our lives again?” She spat.

“Ah, Velvet. That was our fault. We tortured some of them, remember?” Veneer placed a hand on her shoulder, attempting to calm her down.

“I know I remember…” Floyd mumbled.

“Whatever! What do you want?” Velvet slapped her brother’s hand away.

A small, weak troll suddenly emerged from the group. Their hands and feet were sparkly and transparent, and they had a large ponytail of previously red hair, which was now mostly white. “It’s about your sibling, (name).”

Velvet and Veneer’s eyes softened, and their expressions changed to ones of worry. “What about them?” Asked Velvet, defensively.

“What you did to Floyd… they’re going through the same thing.” The troll said.

The twins looked at each other, then back at them. “What? What do you mean? Who even are you?” Velvet snapped.

The troll sighed. “I’m Rosetta. I used to be Lemon Pop’s prisoner. She stole my singing talent, just like you did to Floyd. But I wasn’t enough for her. So she tricked (name) into becoming friends, so she could steal their’s instead. I got Brozone to help me find you, and get you to help them.”

Velvet and Veneer were speechless. They looked back at the TV. You were still visible in the background. Now your appearance made sense. They looked at Lemon Pop, smiling and waving to all their fans. And even though they did the same thing she was doing, they couldn’t help but be pissed. You were their sibling, and she was torturing you.

They turned back to Rosetta, pure rage clear on their faces.

“Let’s go save them.”

(To be continued…)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~baileypie-writes

[khloxxy]

hello! i hope you're doing well ^_^ i just wanna ask about your favorite headcanon of rus, cana and ame (if you're up for it, no pressure, i wanna see what kumajirou looks like in your style)

i like your art! don't mind me if you see me liking your posts hehe

Hello (^_^) thank you... Your art is very beautiful I'm honoured... Sorry if this is kinda late(?) my brain works best when it's the middle of the night. I wrote this in my notes at like 3am...

My headcanons are really messy and subject to change so keep that in mind 🙏 Gonna put them under a read more cause they're pretty long and I rambled on and on.. Got carried away sorry!! Also it's kind of cringe at some points but that's okay. To be cringe is to be free.

---

Rus: My beloved... He's cute, yes, but also very creepy. (I love a creepy rus) I see him as this character that's always looming over everyone, always watching... He likes how docile and obedient Cana is, and with Ame... well... He likes the challenge.

He likes the arts... And I believe he's an incredible poet and dancer. I like to think that Rus spends his free time writing hauntingly beautiful poetry in a journal of his since there are a lot of beautifully written Russian literature... That journal could also probably work as his diary too because why not. He also does ballet and figure skating, and Ame probably calls him gay for it, this irks Rus but that's okay. He'll rip the tongue out of that American's loud mouth one day. He just has to be patient. (that last part is cringe but my rusame brain told me to write it)

For music I think he'd like classical (tchaikovsky) and metal. I also think he'd visit old abandoned buildings just to see the ruins. Maybe even appreciate the architecture? He finds beauty in the decay.

His relationship with Ame is a game of chess (Rus loves chess, so he loves whatever he has going on with Ame), each move calculated, each interaction charged with unspoken tension (they never reveal their love for eachother... the only time that would happen is probably in life-or-death situations but with their immortality that's practically impossible – actually you know what?? Scratch that. No confessions... Unless drunk or under the influence of something maybe.) With Cana, it's more like a delicate dance, appreciating his gentleness but always aware of the fragile nature of their bond – he's aware that cana and him are only really bound together through Ame.

---

Cana: Neglected boy (eng and fra both coddled Ame more) ... Envious of Ame but still loves him – he's frustrated. He knows so much about Ame but Ame knows nothing about him. Ame doesn't care enough to bother learning about him. It's unfair. I believe he actually has Kumajirou for comfort... But even his pet bear doesn't remember him (to be fair, he doesn't remember Kumajirou's name either.)

For music taste, I think he'd like shoegaze actually... it's calm yet messy-ish and it matches well with his vibe. (Totally not just projecting my music taste onto him)

He dislikes being in the shadow of his brother but he does appreciate his brother sticking up for him. Doing all the talking for him. He doesn't like new people usually. They never understand. (Never understand his freak.. yes Cana has a hidden freak to me.)

He genuinely gets along with rus. They're more similar than they initially thought after all. I mean they're both shy (to a point), both live in cold climates, both have weird relationships with ame... And both are connected through Ame... Rus and Cana both recognize that they are intrinsically tied together only through Ame.

---

Ame: Insufferable (put him in the eternal torture chamber!) Even so, Rus and Cana are still drawn to him like moths to a flame. Type of guy to test the limits of his immortal body... I wish Hima did more with their immortality because that is such an interesting subject. Probably has more DUIs than you can count. Has crashed a plane on purpose. No way you can be the United States of America and not end up crazy.

For the Cold War... Ame was genuinely disappointed when the USSR fell, he was like "well... what now...??" Because for several decades he had a villain to match his hero... But now that Rus fell off... what now? He misses the thrill and rush of it (he's a thrill-seeker... Type 3 fun typa guy). Also, he knew nothing would actually happen anyhow because of M.A.D (Mutually Assured Destruction) no one would actually drop bombs.. right? (they had a few close calls). Maybe the cold war was just one big edging session... (Lmfao sorry had to say it)

Okay adding to the above thing but the paragraph got too long for me. Another reason why Ame thrived in the cold war is that Rus had his singular attention on him. Just him. He loved that. He loved having all of someone's attention. He can't help it. He's just a girl! 🎀 (Kinda yandere-ish vibes but I fw yandere ideas so... Actually all 3 of them could be yandere in the right mindset.)

To me, Ame is the kind of person who thrives on adrenaline, always seeking the next big rush – he's also a huge sucker for attention. That's why he does the crazy things he does. For attention. After all, what is he without attention?

With Cana, well this is a me thing but I like to think that Ame is actually quite clingy with his brother.. He's one of the only people Ame allows to touch him.. Ame's not a very touchy person. Ame does crave genuine connections and Cana is one of the few that can offer that. They're each other's one and only brother after all. That has to mean something.

His relationship with Cana? Complicated... They seem good from the outside but Ame barely knows anything about his brother. Cana could say a million things about Ame but Ame could only respond with maybe a few hundred or so things about Cana – heck, maybe even that would be stretching it. Although, Ame does care for his brother in his own way, truly.

Last little thing I'd like to add: Ame has a collection of vintage stuff. I don't know why. Vintage things just scream American to me. Like old comic books..

[furiousgoldfish]

I had a conversation the other day, with a person who seemed to have some respect for me, but couldn't understand why I'm still having trauma symptoms, and can't be normal already. I took it as a chance to try and explain my symptoms, but it seemed to fall on deaf ears;  I was told I just needed to tell myself that 'I am a new person now', and forget about the past. The person then explained to me how they weren't always the same person either, and they would sometimes cringe at their behaviour in the past, but then they would be proud of themselves for being smarter and more reasonable today. I couldn't quite explain to them that my situation was not the same.

They gave me various suggestions like 'just don't think about these things anymore', and 'these people are not going to hurt you anymore', which I strongly doubted was true. I tried to explain that I am not purposefully thinking about it; in fact, I was doing everything to avoid it. But with intrusive thoughts, flashbacks, nightmares, and the symptoms of the dissociative disorder, I had no control over it, the past was at my throat, holding me and unwilling to let go. I could tell that they still believed I was doing it on purpose, holding on and refusing to stop living in the past.

I very rarely get a chance to talk to someone about anything trauma related, so I was originally grateful that anyone was even showing an interest at 'attempting to help me', but later when I thought about the entire thing, I got pissed off.

Firstly it doesn't make any sense for me to be 'normal', in any timeline, regardless of how much time has passed. You can't have a person living first few decades of their life in belief that their life is worthless, in environment where they're getting locked up, beaten, humiliated, tortured, threatened with death, brainwashed to believe they're not human, severely neglected, and without any kind of genuine caretaker or a parent. And then leave it to this person to 'deal with it alone', never getting any help, never even getting reassured that what happened to them was wrong. That is complete abandonment by human society, and I find it sick and twisted that this person should be expected to adhere and integrate into society afterwards, for what? This person will logically feel betrayed, untrusting, bitter, feral and unnacepting the society's standards, especially their standards for victim blaming and ignoring abuse. Society continually fails these people expects them to 'fix themselves' so nobody would feel uncomfortable about it.

Secondly why is it up to me to change as a person? I am not like this because 'I was not a good enough person', I am not the one who needs changing. I am good as I am. It's worse that after being failed in every aspect, I am now being seen as the one in 'the need of change', for not acting normal and being haunted by my past. I am not hurting anybody! I am the only one suffering from this. God forbid my reality leaves someone uncomfortable, I better try to hide it better. Which I actually do unless sometimes is actively asking me about it.

And the last bit of my anger is about making it seem like the actual problem is 'me holding onto the past', and not my life being severely different and harmful in a way that isolates me from other people. I don't have the same formative experiences other people had. I don't remember being cooed at and hugged, I don't have endless experiences of being taught that I'm important, that someone will care and intervene when I'm in pain, that the figures of mother and father are safe, warm, comforting and reliable. That childhoods are a positive and fun part of life. That families work as an environment for children to be raised on. I don't have the experiences that formed all other beliefs that this culture holds, I hold nothing sacred that is sacred to everyone else, I don't believe in the authorities, I don't believe in family, I don't rejoice with holidays, I don't want children, I don't trust religion, I feel contempt towards capitalism, I don't relate or connect to people who are receptive to any of it.

And it turns out I'm right to feel as I do. Because people in this society will actively come to me asking me to 'stop being like that', while never asking any abuser to 'stop being like that'. Victims who make them uncomfortable can be spoken down to, should be told to stop being traumatized, even in private, while the abusers just need to be 'ignored' and 'hopefully they stop doing it'. What a great plan. Surely it will fix everything.

Humane thing to do would be to approach me with awareness that I've been treated like a worthless creature and address it and allow me to act genuine about it. If I'm still feeling betrayed, abandoned and outcast from society, I should be able to express that. I deserve to react with genuine responses rather than this insane preformance art I have to do every single day to make sure nobody else is aware or uncomfortable by my peril.

[bubybubsters]

Siblings (E.V. x reader)

a/n: Eris Week day 3- healing. so if it isn’t clear by the end this is eris and lucien healing their relationship

thank you @erisweekofficial

this is a part two to Falling For You but can be read alone.

After the bond between you and Eris had snapped, the two of you had started going places together when your mate had even the smallest moment of free time from his high lord duties.

However, your bestest friend in the universe had started pulling away. He was hardly around in your shared home and when he was, he was locked up in his room, brooding. It hurt you to see Lucien pulling away and it also hurt you when Eris asked how his “baby brother” was doing. You always said he was great when, in truth, he was drowning.

The guilt was crushing you and you wanted to do something for the two brothers but what could you even do?

You sigh, frowning at the stove in your hand.

You okay?

A tug comes down the bond and you cringe, having completely forgotten Eris could feel everything you were feeling.

What if you asked him?

Why are you and Lucien so… not brotherly?

A long silence.

I feel that is something you better ask him about.

You sigh but send your thanks down the bond anyway.

Glancing at the door to Lucien’s bedroom, you hesitantly rise to your feet and, with a heavy sigh, you raise a fist to knock.

Before you can actually make contact with any wood, the door opens. Lucien stands in the doorway, brows raised.

You frown, “How did-“

“Sensed your magic.” He answers your question before you can finish. He steps aside, leaving the path to his room open. You quickly slip in

“Lucien… I wanted to ask something I’ve been wondering about for a while now.”

He smiles encouragingly although his eyes swirl with some emotion you can’t quite place.

“You and Eris don’t seem to have the best relationship,” Lucien grunts as if to say, obviously.

Your lips twitch in a half smile. “But why is your relationship so, if I may, horrible.”

Lucien bites his lip, his tell tale sign of anxiety. He sighs, sitting on his bed, long hair sweeping over his shoulder. “We didn’t have the greatest parents and they never really showed us how to love anyone, anything, except power. At first, Eris, along with all my other brothers were invested in the idea of becoming High Lord. But then… Jesminda, she was my lover. My will to live, to smile and talk, she was the only person I loved. She loved me for me, not for my power or status, but for me. But she was a lesser fae and my father quickly fount out about our relationship. He disapproved of her and she was,” Lucien grimaces, choking.

“She was tortured and killed because the love she held for me. That day, I defected to the spring court. Tamlin was at the border and killed two of my brothers who were hunting me. I always wondered why Tamlin was at the border that day. It was a pretty average day and Nobles aren’t usually on the border unless there’s a war or something. For the first 100 years or so I brushed it off as a lucky break. I continued hating my brothers for what they’d done. But one day I had just arrived back from an undercover emissary trip to the Summer Court and I was still cloaked in a glamour so I guess Tamlin’s wards didn’t sense me. I heard him and my brother talking. Eris was asking, grilling, Tamlin on how I was doing. If I was still heartbroken. If I was pulling my weight and still training. Tamlin answered every question in an exhausted way as if this had already been happening for a while. Then I heard Eris ask if Tamlin had told me anything about that day at the border. Soon after Eris left and I walked in as if nothing had happened but my mind was reeling. My world had been overturned. Y/n, you know the feeling. After that I wasn’t sure how to act around Eris. I wasn’t sure what to think about him. He seemed like the bad guy only rooting for power but sometimes his actions would tell me he was an okay guy trying to protect his little brother. It was always awkward and weird and now that he’s here and that he’s proved he’s a good guy, I just don’t know how to handle myself around him.”

Lucien sighs, leaning forward. You stepped up and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. He buried his face into your stomach, and the two of you held on to each other as if you’d never let go. (Your relationship was strictly platonic of course).

“You know…” you say after a few minutes. “You could start with not avoiding Eris every time he comes here?”

Lucien groans. “I was only half avoiding him! I wanted the two of you to have your alone time.”

“We hung out here so much because he wanted a chance to talk to you,” you say with a roll of your eyes.

Lucien pulls away from you, “Wait really?”

“You think I want to spend so much time in this house when I’m here practically 24/7 anyway???”

Lucien shrugs, “You are quite quirky.”

You smack him on the arm, laughing.

“Collecting the trash people give to me is not quirky!” You walk out the door, and while you’re shutting it you tell him, “By the way, Eris should be here any second.”

“Y/n!” Lucien curses you to the cualdren and you let out a good natured cackle just as the doorbell rings.

“Hey Eris!”

You smile a little too wide, causing Eris to immediately sense something’s wrong.

“What happened? What did you do?”

You groan, “why do you always think I’m the one who did something? It could have been Lucien!”

Eris rolls his eyes, “Lucien, would never! You on the other hand…”

“On the contrary, I probably would do something.” Lucien is standing by the coach, a soft, tentative smile on his face.

“Lucien.” Eris blinks, amber eyes widening before his hand comes up to rub his eyes as of not believing the sight in front of him.

Lucien’s smile widens, “Don’t worry Er, it’s not a dream.”

Eris scoffs, mouth opening as if to say something but instead he just opens his arms and smiles.

You watch as your best friend and your mate hug and deep down, you know they’ll be happy. They will definitely fight over the smallest things and insult each other as if there’s a prize for the best insult. They’ll probably do stupid things together that cause big problems for each of their lives. They’ll occasionally give each other the silent treatment for years, but… that’s what siblings are supposed to do.

The two males pull away and face you.

“Thanks, little flame.” Eris grabs your hand, pulling you into a kiss.

You hum, breaking the kiss.

“Wanna go get ice cream now?”

“Sure! Bye Luci.”

Lucien frowns at the two of you. “Wait, can I come?”

You and Eris share a look.

Eris smirks, “Sorry man, mates only. Go get your little flower from the night court and join us if you’re that desperate.”

Lucien rolls his eyes.

“Whatever.”

You wink in his direction as you leave. “Get cleaned up Lu, I told Elain you wanted to see her and she’s on her way!”

You close the door to the panicked shout of your best friends, “What!???”

taglist: @mplittlebit@theduskyprincess@randomgurl2326@thelov3lybookworm@profound-imagination @stargirl1714 @hieragalbatorixdottir @rcarbo1

thank you @kodaswrld for the dividers

comment to be tagged

[disenchantedif]

Here’s a commission I did for @stephschoices and her MC Lili since we’re all in a Luci mood lol. While I code the rest of Luci’s scenes, here’s this to tide you all over 🤲

Remembering the anniversary of a relationship that’s ended is a unique kind of torture, you think. It was once a day you celebrated and now it caused nothing but pain. Time is ruthless, and nothing stays the same.

Well, some things stay the same.

Like how your heart skips a beat when you see him slumped over the railing in the hallway, looking out at the night sky. That’s never changed, and you don’t think it ever will. Lucien Rivera will, perhaps unfortunately, always take your breath away. Then your heart sinks as you see the ruffled wings, the whiskey bottle dangling between limp fingers, the way his head is bowed as if in prayer.

He’s not praying, you know that much. Despite being part angel, Lucien never had much faith in anything.

You approach quietly, your steps silent against the concrete. He’s too far gone to hear you anyways, you realize, reaching out a gentle hand to nudge his shoulder. He spins around, the shitty overhead light reflected in his wide eyes.

It’s quiet for a moment, then your name tumbles out of his clumsy lips, “Leliana…”

Maybe it’s providence, be it of fate or the divine or something you aren’t even aware of, that you brought you both here. Maybe it’s your shit luck, or maybe it’s a chance you’ve been wishing for in the depths of your heart. Either way, he’s here and so are you.

“Lucien,” You force his name out, and it feels like the air has been knocked out of your lungs, “I think…I think you’ve had enough.”

You glance pointedly down at the bottle. He looks away.

“I’d disagree,” He mutters.

When you hold your hand out, you don’t expect him to actually hand the whiskey over. He does, though, obediently and with shaking hands. There’s no lid in sight, which tells you he fully planned on drinking the whole thing tonight.

“Is Cameron back at your dorm?” You ask, and the knowledge that you don’t know the ins and outs of his life anymore is like acid on your tongue.

Lucien gives a stilted laugh, “No. He’s with his aunt.”

You offer your arm when he tries to stand on wobbling legs. He stares at it for a long moment, like he isn’t quite sure if he’s imagining it or not. Then he moves gingerly to take it, his skin on yours both foreign and familiar.

You know very well where his dorm is. Perhaps you’re over conscious of it, the fact that he lives just down the hall. It was stinging, at first, that he was so close yet so far. That seems to be the common theme between the two of you.

“Why?” Lucien asks, his gaze dismal.

“You need help,” You say, as if it isn’t tearing you apart from the inside out to be so close to him.

The look he gives you calls you out on the lie, but he’s retained enough manners to say nothing.

You reach his dorm, and he’s left the door unlocked. You’d fret about safety if it was anyone else, but it’s Lucien, so you push the urge down. He ambles to the couch when you release him, sitting in a heap of mussed curls and disheveled feathers. You open the fridge, cringing slightly at the lack of food as you get a bottle of water.

“Drink this,��� You say, handing it to him before you drift back into the small kitchen.

The crinkling plastic tells you he listened as you pour the rest of the whiskey out. He doesn’t object, despite seeing you do it. When you turn, his eyes are locked on you, a half empty bottle held in his hands.

“Do you need anything?” You can’t help but ask, surprised when the question makes him wince away.

“You,” He mumbles, sullen and slurred.

At first, you think there’s more to what he’s saying. That he has some request for you. You almost ask a question, to clarify, when the realization strikes you.

It’s just…you.

Perhaps you sit next to him because your knees are weak, or because you feel like you can’t quite breathe, but either way you end up on the couch. His hand is so close to yours, and you long to reach out. When you look up at him, you see he’s looking down at your hands as well. You wonder if he has the same impulse, the same desire.

You think he does. You hope he does.

“Do you-“ You swallow the words down, unsure if you should ask.

Does he remember? Does he know what today is? Or is it just another thing lost, another thing time has consumed in its ruthless pursuit of your memory?

You already risk forgetting his touch, his skin, his smile. The way his voice used to sound, so kind and in love.

“I remember.” He says, voice rough.

Is that better or worse? You don’t know. Then his fingers brush yours, bold, and you lose track of any thoughts you’d been scraping together.

“You should rest,” You say, instead of the thousand other words that threaten to spill out.

“I…” He hesitates, his lip trembling before he bites it, his teeth sinking into the soft flesh.

“I can stay,” You offer, unsure if it’s wanted.

“Please,” He whispers.

It’s wanted. You’re wanted. You thought being forgotten was torture, but this is so much worse. Knowing he wants you and you want him but history and pain and things that can’t be taken back are pushing you apart…

You curse fate, the divine, your luck, whatever it is that brought the two of you to this point.

“Okay,” You nod slightly, “I’ll stay for a bit.”

He leans forward, curling into the couch, tucking his wings around him like a blanket. He keeps ahold of your hand, though, clutching it like a lifeline. He rests his head on the stiff upholstery, turned so he can still watch you.

“Would you sing?” He asks, his voice painfully small.

You falter slightly. He squeezes your hand. He wants you to sing, so you sing. It’s a lullaby, one that lingers in your memory from a past long gone. Just another thing time has ripped away. The Latin spills out easily, as if you know it by heart, your voice shaking just like your mother’s used to.

He doesn’t care. Not about the shaking, or the way your hand trembles in his. He looks at you with shining eyes, fighting the fatigue that threatens to close them. He doesn’t want this to end, and neither do you. In the dim light of the living room, he watches you sing like he’s finally found faith.

[awkward-imaginations]

| Reunions and Rivalries |

tetsuro kuroo x f!reader

The first time Kuroo saw you was when he noticed you sitting with Kenma, happily playing video games together. He would have been lying if he said he wasn’t surprised when Kenma mentioned he had made a friend on the first day of the new school year. He didn’t share much about you, but Kuroo knew you had just transferred to Nekoma High and somehow you had piqued his interest.

warnings/notes: highschool romance, fluff, slight angst, I do NOT write fanfictions or storys normally, this is a first, so I am generally sorry for everything. CRINGE. def will be cringe in some parts. I'm a big sucker for Kuroo, him and Kenma may be ooc but I don't care this is my silly story and I just need to get it out of my head so I can finally write my Master's Thesis in peace. Also, english is not my first language. This has been "proofread" by my friends (who are also non-native speakers, enjoy).

word count: 2659

former chapter | masterlist | next chapter

The familiar sound of Karasuno players shouting to each other filled the air as the Tokyo team approached. You walked next to Yaku, chatting casually, when suddenly two familiar figures came sprinting toward you.

“Y/N!” Nishinoya shouted at the top of his lungs, while Sugawara waved enthusiastically from behind him. Before you could even react, Noya wrapped you in a tight hug, nearly knocking poor Yaku off his feet in the process.

“Noya! Suga-Chaaaan~!” you grinned, pulling Sugawara into the hug as well. Noya, now gripping your arm dramatically, suddenly shifted his expression to one of exaggerated misery.

“Y/N!” he whined, pushing you away just enough to meet your eyes, still holding onto your arm. “You have no idea how terrible school is without you. It’s been torture!”

You laughed, playfully pushing at Noya’s shoulder. "Oh, come on, Noya. It can't be that bad."

"It is that bad!" he insisted, throwing his head back in exaggerated despair. "Ever since you transferred, it's like the life has been sucked out of our classroom. I can't even focus on anything anymore!"

Sugawara chuckled, shaking his head at Noya's antics. "I think you just miss having someone to cheat off of during tests."

Noya pouted, clutching his heart as if he’d been gravely wounded. "How could you say that?! I would never cheat! I just… I mean, maybe I miss having Y/N to help me out once in a while, but that's totally different!"

You smirked, crossing your arms. "Uh-huh, totally."

Nishinoya groaned, burying his face in his hands. "You don’t understand! It’s like no one else gets me. The energy in class is so dull now, Y/N! I'm completely doomed."

You rolled your eyes affectionately, patting Noya on the head. "You’re being a bit dramatic, don’t you think?"

"Not dramatic enough!" Noya cried, throwing his arms wide for emphasis. "It's been painful without you. Seriously, how do you survive at that new school? Do they at least let you sleep through class?"

You chuckled. "It’s not so bad, actually. I’ve made some new friends, and I still get plenty of sleep."

Noya looked betrayed, his eyes wide. "New friends? What, and you didn’t miss us at all?"

"Of course I missed you guys!" You reassured, smiling. "But you know, life moves on. Besides, we still get to play Guild Wars together."

„Yeah, nice raid yesterday,” Nishinoya exclaimed, fist bumping you.

Kuroo, watching the scene from a few steps away, furrowed his brow slightly. “So, she's close with the volleyball team at her old school too?” he asked casually, glancing over at Kenma.

“Hm?” Kenma blinked, only half-listening. “Obviously,” he said with a shrug. “Why? You jealous or something?”

Kuroo scoffed, his expression tightening for a moment. “What? No,” he replied, though his gaze drifted back to you, now laughing a bit too hard—at least from his perspective—at something Sugawara said. His jaw clenched involuntarily.

“You sure?” Kenma muttered, still not looking up. “Because it kind of seems like you are.”

“I’m not,” Kuroo grumbled, crossing his arms defensively. “Why would I be—”

His words trailed off as Daichi approached you, a calm but warm smile on his face. He greeted you with a firm hug, his arms wrapping around you in a way that spoke of years of friendship. “It’s been too long, Y/N,” Daichi said, his voice soft. “It’s a nice surprise you’re here.”

You smiled, your face lighting up. “It feels like ages.”

Kuroo watched the exchange, feeling his heart sink just a bit. Daichi’s hug wasn’t overly affectionate, but there was a sense of familiarity between you two that stirred envy in him. He tried to brush it off, forcing a smile, though it felt stiff on his face.

“The third years used to be in the same class as her brother since Kindergarten,” Kenma said quietly, as if reading Kuroo’s thoughts. “They’ve known each other for a long time.”

Kuroo exhaled, rolling his eyes, though the slight tension in his shoulders didn’t ease. “Great. Old friends,” he muttered, his smile feeling more and more strained.

Kenma smirked. “You’re terrible at hiding your feelings.”

"Wait… she has a brother?" Kuroo asked, his tone sharper than he intended.

Kenma gave him a surprised look. "You didn’t know? Yeah, L/N Ryouta—he goes to Nekoma too."

Kuroo’s mind raced. "L/N Ryouta? I don’t think I’ve met him."

Kenma shook his head. "Probably not. You’re in the university prep class, and he’s in regular courses. Still, kind of strange she didn’t mention him during one of your study dates."

Kuroo’s lips tugged into a slight frown. "We’re studying, not chatting." The fact that you had a brother he didn’t know about made him feel a little out of the loop. He didn’t like it.

Kenma shrugged. "It makes sense she'd be close with them. They’ve been hanging out since she was little."

Kuroo watched you laugh with Daichi and Sugawara, Noya had left you to help Tanaka “protect” Shimizu. You clearly had a lot of history with these guys. The way they greeted you, how easily you fit into their circle—it was obvious you were used to attention from boys. It bothered him more than he cared to admit.

Just as he was about to look away, you caught his eye and waved, your smile brightening. For a split second, you seemed to hesitate, a faint blush coloring your cheeks as if you hadn’t expected him to be watching. Kuroo smirked, feeling a little more at ease now.

Daichi, noticing your reaction, raised an eyebrow. "Who's that?" he asked, his tone casual but curious.

You turned back to Daichi, still smiling. "Oh, that’s Kuroo, Nekoma’s captain. You should probably go introduce yourself."

Daichi nodded, though his expression became a little more guarded. "Right. I’ll go say hi."

As Daichi walked over, Kuroo straightened up, masking his emotions behind his usual confident grin. Daichi extended his hand, his smile polite but strained. "Daichi Sawamura, captain of Karasuno."

Kuroo grasped Daichi’s hand, matching his too-firm grip with one of his own. "Tetsurou Kuroo. Captain of Nekoma."

Both captains forced smiles, but in the back of their minds, they had the same thought: I don’t like this guy.

“So… you’re not their manager?” Sugawara asked, giving you a playful nudge as he leaned against the wall next to you in the gym, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“Nope,” you chuckled. "I’m just here for moral support.”

Sugawara laughed. “Then I can support you supporting. We've got a cracking new setter, so I'll probably be on the bench the whole time.”

There was an ease between you and Sugawara that came with familiarity. You caught up on everything—school, mutual friends, and volleyball, of course. Time slipped away as the two of you talked, oblivious to anything else happening on the court.

Except someone was paying attention.

From across the gym, Kuroo’s gaze flickered toward you more than once. He tried to brush it off, but the more you laughed with Sugawara, the harder it was to ignore the twist in his chest.

“Oi, Kuro,” Kenma muttered, not even looking at him as he noticed the subtle tension radiating off his captain. “What’s up with you?”

Kuroo blinked, dragging his gaze back to the court just in time to see one of Karasuno's players miss a spike. “What do you mean? Nothing's up.”

Kenma sighed. “You’ve been staring over there for the last ten minutes. You’re distracted.”

“Distracted?” Kuroo scoffed, though his eyes flicked once again in your direction—watching as Sugawara leaned in to say something that made you laugh. Why does he get to make you laugh like that? Kuroo felt his jaw tighten. “I’m not distracted. Just… keeping an eye on the competition. You know, strategy.”

Kenma raised an eyebrow. “Sugawara isn’t even playing.”

Kuroo rolled his eyes, “You mean Suga-Chaaan~,” he mocked your greeting only to feign indifference afterwards. “I’m not watching him. Why would I care about some third year who isn’t even in starting lineup?”

Kenma looked at him blankly for a moment before shrugging. “I don’t know. Why would you care?”

“I don’t,” Kuroo huffed. “As I already said, it’s not like I’m jealous or anything.”

Kenma eyes flicked toward Sugawara, then back to Kuroo. “I didn’t say you were.”

“I’m not,” Kuroo added, a little too quickly. “I mean—”

“Kuro,” Kenma interrupted, his deadpan expression growing sharper.

“I—" Kuroo hesitated, suddenly aware of how ridiculous he sounded. “I’m just looking out for her.”

Kenma’s lips twitched into the slightest hint of a smirk. “Sure.”

Across the court, Sugawara was finishing a story, his eyes twinkling as he spoke. You laughed, leaning in a little closer. Kuroo’s eye twitched.

“It’s not like they’re flirting,” Kuroo mumbled under his breath, though his voice lacked conviction.

“What was that?” Kenma asked, not bothering to look away from the ball on their side.

“Nothing!” Kuroo snapped, a little too loud, drawing some curious glances from nearby players.

You and Sugawara, still chatting, were blissfully unaware of Kuroo’s growing frustration. Every time Sugawara made you laugh, it felt like a small jab, not because he disliked Sugawara, but because… well, he wasn’t entirely sure why. Or at least, he wasn’t willing to admit it yet.

The match was in full swing, as Shimizu joined you and Sugawara at the side, observing as the teams went back and forth on the court. You’d fallen into an easy rhythm with Sugawara, catching up and making jokes, but now that Shimizu had joined you, the conversation was a bit more reserved.

After a moment of comfortable silence, Shimizu turned toward you. “You’re not their manager, yet you’re wearing their jersey,” she remarked softly, her eyes following the ball.

“Yeah, it actually belongs to Kenma, we're about the same size, thought it would boost the team spirit” you replied, smiling fondly.

Shimizu nodded thoughtfully, glancing between you and Kenma on the court. “He seems to enjoy your company.”

You blinked, catching the subtle implication in her tone. “Wait, do you mean…?” You hesitated, feeling a slight blush creep up your neck. “You think I like Kenma?”

Sugawara, who had been listening in with a bemused expression, chuckled under his breath. “Oh no, Shimizu,” he said, shaking his head, “you’re way off.”

Shimizu tilted her head slightly, giving Sugawara a questioning look. “Really? I thought—”

Sugawara waved her off with a smile, clearly amused. “Trust me, I’ve known Y/N for a long time. She doesn’t go for the quiet, brooding type.”

You narrowed your eyes at Sugawara, half-embarrassed. “Hey, I can like quiet guys,” you defended, though it came out more as a weak protest than anything else.

Sugawara gave you a teasing smirk. “Maybe, but not that quiet.” He leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Kenma’s great and all, but your type’s always been more… I don’t know, bad boy. The kind of guy who’s a little rough around the edges, gets under your skin.”

Shimizu blinked, her curiosity piqued. “Bad boy…?” she repeated thoughtfully, then her gaze drifted toward the court where Coach Ukai stood, arms crossed, observing the match with his intense focus. She nodded in his direction. “Ah. You mean someone like Ukai?”

You nearly choked, waving your hands in protest. “What? No way! He’s… hot, sure, but he’s way too old!”

Sugawara burst out laughing, and even Shimizu’s usually calm expression cracked into a smile.

“Nah, I wasn’t talking about Ukai,” Sugawara chuckled, nudging you playfully. “I had someone more… age-appropriate in mind.” He pointed subtly across the court to where Kuroo was setting up for a block, his sharp gaze focused on the game, his usual smug grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “I was thinking more along the lines of that bad boy.”

You froze, suddenly feeling like all the air had been knocked out of your lungs. “Kuroo?” You hadn’t even realized it, but the moment Sugawara mentioned it, something clicked inside you—like a light had been switched on.

Sugawara’s grin widened as he saw the realization dawning on your face. “There it is,” he said, his voice smug but not unkind. “Ryouta told me you just can’t shut up about him.”

You could feel the blush deepening, the heat spreading up to your cheeks. “I… I don’t…” you stammered, not quite sure how to deny it now that it was out in the open.

Shimizu watched you carefully, her quiet gaze perceptive. “So, it is Kuroo?” she asked softly, her voice neutral as ever, though there was a trace of curiosity.

You glanced at her, feeling a little trapped but knowing you couldn’t lie, especially not with Sugawara there, reading you like an open book. You sighed, defeated, and ran a hand through your hair. “Okay, fine,” you muttered, embarrassed but kind of relieved to admit it. “Yeah… I think I like Kuroo.”

Sugawara looked like he’d just won a game. “I knew it,” he said triumphantly. “I could tell from the beginning.”

Shimizu gave a small nod, her expression thoughtful. “He does seem like someone you’d get along with,” she said quietly.

“Well…” you began slowly, a shy smile creeping onto your face, “he is pretty great. He’s been really nice to me, even when he’s annoying.”

Shimizu gave you a small, knowing smile.

Sugawara’s grin softened a bit, turning more genuine. “Sounds like you’re smitten.”

You shot him a playful glare. “Don’t make it sound so cheesy.”

He chuckled. “Hey, no judgment here. I’m just glad you finally realized it.”

You groaned, half embarrassed but secretly hopeful. “Great, now I’m going to be overanalyzing everything he says to me.”

Sugawara laughed, clapping you on the shoulder. “That’s part of the fun. Just keep me updated.”

Later that night, the team piled into the bus, the soft hum of the engine filling the silence as the Nekoma players settled into their seats. You slid into a spot next to Kenma, Kuroo sitting in the row just ahead, his head tilted back against the seat.

As the bus started to roll down the road, you pulled out some flyers Sugawara had given you earlier and turned to Kenma and Kuroo. "Hey, by the way, Sugawara invited me to a festival nearby. His and my brother’s band, Secondhand Youth, is opening." You held out the flyer so they could see. "You guys listen to pop-punk, right?"

Kenma glanced up from his DS, raising an eyebrow, but before he could say anything, Kuroo replied a little too quickly, "Sure!" His voice was overly enthusiastic, and his eyes darted to you for a reaction.

Kenma blinked, clearly unimpressed. He gave Kuroo a sideways look, stifling a smirk as he mimicked, "Sure." His tone was flat, dripping with sarcasm.

You snorted, trying to hide a laugh, but Kuroo shot Kenma a mock glare. “What? It’s not like I don’t listen to it.”

Kenma couldn’t resist. “Name one band.” He leaned his chin on his hand, watching Kuroo with a blank stare, knowing full well his friend didn’t have a clue.

Kuroo paused, clearly stumped, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for a band name. “Well, Secondhand Youth, obviously.” You couldn’t help but giggle, and Kuroo turned to you, his expression a mix of mild panic and frustration.

"Okay, fine, maybe I’m not a huge fan," Kuroo admitted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, "but I’d still go. For the experience, you know?"

Kenma rolled his eyes but kept a small smile on his lips. “Yeah, the experience of pretending to like music you’ve never heard of.”

You nudged Kuroo’s seat playfully from behind, your smile softening. "You don’t have to, Kuroo. But… you’re welcome to come, if you want."

Kuroo’s eyes met yours, his expression softening as well. “Nah, I wanna go,” he said, his voice sincere this time. “Could be fun.”

Kenma returned to his game, though he couldn’t hide the amusement in his eyes as he watched you and Kuroo interact.

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Capitol Punishment IV

Haymitch x Reader

Summary: The Capitol continues to torture it’s victors no matter how long ago they won through punishment, exploitation, and worst of all; their relationships.

A story in which Haymitch’s lover is a plaything for the Capitol.

Warnings: Canon level violence, rape (though never explicit), alcohol, murder, systemic poverty, exploitation, rebellion (?), more reliance on movie than book, suicidal thoughts

Word Count: 3.9K

Part III | Masterlist | Part V

Your head rested on Haymitch’s lap as you stoically watched the girl from District 1, Glimmer, kill the girl from District 4.

As the careers began to walk away, Haymitch took the remote, shutting off the feed. “Hey!” you protested.

“You’ve seen enough— we’ve both seen enough,” he insisted. “Y/N we watch these games every year and have to endure seeing our kids get slaughtered. And you get upset every time.”

“But these kids have an actual shot at winning!” you insisted. Both were already adored by the Capitol and Peeta, being the son of a baker and having the strength to show it, resembled the careers more than previous District 12 tributes. As for Katniss, she was a hunter and a survivalist. If she could get her hands on the bow Glimmer was fumbling with, the odds of this game would drastically change. “You don’t need to protect me like I’m a child.”

“I’m just trying to protect you because I love you and it hurts me to see you hurt.”

You stopped, unable to respond to that. He was right, every year you invested in these kids and no matter what, whether they ignore your advice or not, the end up dead and it was taking its toll on you. A toll only Haymitch saw because you refused to show weakness to anyone who may hold power over you.

Before you could respond the elevator dinged open and Effie fluttered into the penthouse. “Haymitch! Y/N! Haymitch! Y/N!” she squawked. “Turn on the games!”

Annoyed yet confused, Haymitch complied. Your eyes widened as you saw what was happening. Katniss was running through a forest fire. You audibly gasped when you saw a fireball be launched at her, sending her to the side. You held on tightly to Haymitch’s sleeve as the fire continued to surround her, a projectile burning her at one point.

The gamemakers’ disaster didn’t end until she jumped into a small pool of water. Unfortunately for Katniss her relief didn’t last long before the careers spotted her. Glimmer was the first to spot her, pointing and shouting. The others began to shout after her, running towards Katniss with smiles as if they were hunting turkeys. Peeta followed after them, carrying a spear, looking reluctant.

Katniss looked exhausted but she made her way out of the pond, running into the forest until she found a big tree. You held your breath as she scaled the tree and the careers approached. Fortunately she was a couple feet up in the air by the time the careers reached her.

Cato, from District 2, began climbing the tree after her but broke a branch only a couple steps up. And by now Katniss had settled on a thick branch about 70 feet in the air. A camera locked in on Peeta’s face, showing his concern for his years long crush.

“I got this,” Glimmer declared, notching an arrow. Judging by the clumsiness of her movements she wasn’t very experienced with it. She aimed up at Katniss, releasing the arrow which missed her by a long shot.

“Why don’t you throw the sword,” she taunted, eliciting a laugh from Haymitch.

“Got any ideas, loverboy?” Cato snarled.

“Why don’t we just wait her out?” he suggested. “It’s either she comes down or starves to death.” The careers all looked surprised, as if a non-violent strategy had never occurred to them. Seeing as that was the only real viable option, they began to set up camp.

The camera turned up to Katniss who by now was settled on her branch, assessing her burn wound. You cringed at her pained expression as she tried to soothe the burn. “Haymitch she’s going to die of infection if she doesn’t get medicine.”

“I know,” he said, already standing up. “I’m going to kiss come Capitol ass.” You stood up with him but he quickly stopped you. “No, Y/N I love you but this will put you right in their palms.”

Grateful for Haymitch’s concern for you, you cupped his jaw gently, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “Thank you,” you whispered.

“I’ll go with him,” Effie said, scrambling to the elevator with him.

~

Once they reached a viewing room for the sponsors Haymitch grabbed two glasses of champagne. Spotting a sponsor who was intently staring at the screen, and more importantly, not speaking to anyone else, he headed over. “She’s a tough one,” Haymitch caught the man’s attention. “Kind of ironic that the girl on fire got burned. Champagne?” he offered the peacock of a man.

With a smug look he took the glass. “Haymitch Abernathy, Katniss is yours right?” he asked, gesturing to the screen.

“Yeah she is. Gotta say it’s really nice to have two kids make it this far.”

“Ah right, loverboy is also yours,” the man chuckled. “Let me guess, you want medicine for Katniss.”

Haymitch smiled dryly. “Yes, she needs it. I’ve seen what your medicine can do and once she’s healed up, she’ll be back in the game stronger than ever.”

“Is she half as ruthless as Y/N L/N was?”

Inside Haymitch froze at the mention of your name but seeing as the man didn’t talk about you further, he pushed through it. “Half is a good estimate,” Haymitch laughed. “What I can tell you is that she’s a provider for her family and she’s got that sweet little sister she volunteered for back home. If anyone has a reason to get out of that arena, it’s her. She’s got no one else to take care of her family.”

The man thought for a second, nodding before reaching out his hand to Haymitch. “You’ve got a deal. 200 for the medicine and I’ll place a thousand on her to win.”

Haymitch grinned eagerly, shaking his hand too. “Thank you, I appreciate it.” Haymitch ensured that the man reached the betting/sponsor booth to get the medicine to Katniss before turning towards the elevator, intent on heading back to you.

“The Victor of District 12.” A hand clamped onto his shoulder along with the words stopped Haymitch in his tracks. He turned, finding a man with orange skin and bright red hair, grinning at him.

“Can I help you?” Haymitch asked as kindly as possible.

“I wanted to ask about Y/N L/N, the other District 12 victor.”

Haymitch tried to swallow his disgust. “What do you want to know?”

“Is she available anytime soon? A friend of mine got a taste of her, said she felt heavenly. I wanted to give it a try, take her for a spin, you know,” he laughed. “See if she’s tighter than Capitol girls.”

At that comment Haymitch couldn’t hold it in any longer. Seven years of watching you be used and abused were released in a single punch, sending the man to the ground. Before Haymitch could kill the redhead, peacekeepers were dragging him out of the room. “Keep her name out of your fucking mouth!” he yelled.

He was dragged off into a van and then had a bag placed over his head.

He wasn’t sure how far he went, only that he was manhandled out of the van until he was stood in a building. When they pulled the bag from his head he realized just how screwed he was.

“Hello, Haymitch,” President Snow smiled evilly.

~

“Y/N! Haymitch has been arrested!” Effie burst into the room.

“What?”

“He punched a man. Come on, we have to find him,” she said, tugging on your arm. You were surprised that she was so eager to help Haymitch but went along with her.

You rode the elevator down but as soon as the doors opened you were met with Peacekeepers. “Y/N L/N, please come with us.” Figuring they’d take you to Haymitch, you followed them, not screaming in protest for once.

You were placed in a luxurious car, Effie having been barred from coming with you. She was currently shrieking, demanding to know what was going on but you just ignored her, eager to get to Haymitch.

The car drove you a couple blocks down the street before you reached a very grand building. The President’s building. You were led inside and up the stairs to Snow’s office which you had only been in once before. The grand doors opened, revealing Haymitch kneeling on the ground, facing Snow with a gun pointed at him. “Y/N how nice of you to join us,” Snow welcomed.

You ignored him, lunging at Haymitch until a peacekeeper caught you around the waist. “Let him go,” you protested. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“He punched a man in the face. That’s punishable by death for the district citizens.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach. “Please don’t, I’m begging you. I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” a man with orange skin and bright red hair, stepped in from the side of the room. He had on a devilish and excited expression. Despite his fire spirit like appearance, you hadn’t noticed him. Too focused on Haymitch and Snow.

“Yes, anything,” you agreed. “If you want me you can have me. Please just let him go.”

“Y/N-”

“That’s not up for you to decide,” Snow cut Haymitch off. “Whatever punishment must be fitting for Mr. Abernathy’s crimes. Whether you take the punishment or he does. Mr. Summer, what do you think?”

“I think a whole night with Mr. Abernathy’s district partner would be fitting,” he said smugly, sporting a black eye.

“I’ll do it,” you eagerly agreed.

By now the gun has been put away and Haymitch was turned to face you. “Y/N you don’t have to.”

“No I’m not going to let you be killed. Especially when I only have to spend the night with someone. I’ve been doing that for the past seven years for nothing. Right now it’s actually worth something. Please let me do this for you,” you were begging.

Haymitch looked down nodding before looking up to meet your eyes again, trying to convey that he loved you. No matter how obvious your relationship may seem to those who watched you, you both had agreed to never utter your affections for each other in front of Capitol people.

The man who Haymitch had punched was now eagerly waiting by the door. “Go on Ms. L/N. You’re the one who made the deal.”

You once again looked at your lover, trying to convey your love for him before standing on shaky legs. Following the fire man out of the room.

~

Haymitch had been released by Snow almost immediately after you left. He was dragged through the building, into a car, and quite literally pushed out of said car when they arrived at the tributes building. He wanted to run back to the President’s building to find you but he knew how furious you’d be if he put his life in jeopardy again. So he swallowed his anger and stomped into the building and back up to the penthouse.

~

You didn’t return until noon the next day. When you entered your room Haymitch was passed out on the bed with two empty wine bottles. Whenever you were taken it was typical for Haymitch to drink himself into a coma but it was less common while you were in the Capitol. You immediately went to the bathroom, turning the water as hot as you could possibly stand, wanting to cleanse yourself of such a vile man. But even when you stepped out of the shower after a solid 10 minutes of scrubbing you still felt unclean. You had never been with someone that long.

You walked past Haymitch who was still passed out, probably for the night. You didn’t want to have to look into his eyes that you knew would be full of pity and anger. So you headed to the only person you knew would be able to help you. Getting onto the elevator you hit the number four, descending down into District 4’s floor.

Once the elevator opened you were greeted with a living room decorated exactly like yours 8 floors up. “Finnick,” you called, stepping in hesitantly. You felt weird just walking into someone else’s “home.”

“Yes?” you could hear Finnick’s confused voice call from another room. He appeared in a hallway a second late. “Y/N, what are you doing here?” he asked. You swallowed, feeling tears prick your eyes. Seeing your reaction, Finnick knew exactly what that meant. “Oh I’m so sorry,” he empathized. He came over, giving you a hug. At the first gentle, comforting touch you’ve felt all day, you broke down into sobs. He quietly tried to soothe you, leading you to the couch while you sobbed into his chest.

When your sobs finally subsided he spoke. “What happened?” he had comforted you many times over the years but you only ever cried like this when something new or exceptionally cruel happened for the first time.

“Hay-Haymitch got arrested,” you slowly choked out, “for punching a guy that said some things about me. Snow was gonna kill him. But instead I agreed to sleep with the guy so Haymitch would be let go. I spent over 12 hours with him, Finnick!” you cried.

“Oh Y/N,” he spoke gently, stroking a piece of hair behind your ear like parental figure. “I’m sorry that happened to the both of you. But hey, at least you have someone fighting in your corner… literally,” he laughed gently. You laughed with him, sniffling. “I’m sure you were scared for him but if I know anything about Haymitch, its that he loves you more than anything in the world and he’d much rather punch anyone in the face and die for you than allow you to be hurt. And if I know anything about you, its that you’d sleep with everyone in the Capitol before you let anyone hurt him. So just remember that you both have each other in your corners… and me of course.” You let out another laugh. “I’m surprised you’re down here. I’m sure Haymitch is terrified.”

You shook your head. “He’s passed out. Drank at least two wine bottles, probably more. That’s usually how he copes. I just wanted to talk to you then keep my mind off what happened,” you changed the subject. “What’s going on in the games?”

“Uh well Katniss killed the girl from District 1 by dropping a tracker jacker nest on the careers and now she has a bow. Cato, the kid from District 2, wounded Peeta. Last anyone saw he was disguising himself into the rocks by the river. And Katniss has formed an alliance with Rue, the girl from District 11.”

Your hope for Peeta was dying now. Like you feared for Katniss before, you knew his wound would get infected, especially since he was probably covered in dirt and mut in order to hide.

Finnick turned on the television so you could watch the games. Immediately it was on Katniss, perched just inside the clearing where the cornucopia was and where the careers had set up camp. Before you could even figure out what was happening she let an arrow fly, sending a bag of apples tumbling, triggering the mines you has watched the kid from District 3, Byte, use to protect the mountain of supplies. It all went up in one glorious blaze, sending Katniss flying back into the tree line. Fortunate seeing as the remaining careers all quickly returned, Cato breaking Byte’s neck. Well there goes Beetee’s bet, you thought to yourself. He had probably thought the same about you when Peeta was wounded.

The camera then shifted to little Rue who was running through the forest until she tripped, falling right into a trap. A net quickly fell down upon her, trapping her on the ground. “Katniss!” she yelled.

You felt your heart break at the sheer terror in her voice. You let out an audible breath when Katniss came running, quickly cutting the girl out of the rope. As she was checking up on the young girl, you could see the boy from District 1, Marvel, appear with a spear.

“Katniss,” Rue caught your tribute’s attention, pointing behind her at Marvel. Katniss quickly whirled around, notching an arrow and firing straight into his chest, killing him. Unfortunately it was too late after he released his spear, sending it into Rue’s abdomen.

You felt more tears well in your eyes as Rue fell, Katniss catching her. You could barely watch as Rue took her final breaths and again when Katniss buried her in flowers.

Finnick got up from beside you, immediately going to the bar cart. He poured two of some sort of cocktail, bringing one over for you. “My own creation,” he explained, handing it to you. You took it, realizing that it smelled and tasted like pure alcohol. Nevertheless you downed it. “Do you ever think of a world where there’s no games?” Finnick suddenly asked.

You shrugged. “I guess.”

“What about no Capitol?”

“Finnick…” you warned. You and he were the most closely watched Victors, neither of you could afford to think about stuff like that. Especially with Annie and Haymitch in your respective lives.

“There are rumors,” he continued. “Even some of the most powerful are done with this,” he gestured to the screen and the lavish wealth in the room.

“We can’t afford to be hopeful. Not with Haymitch and Annie.”

“Haymitch approached me.” You were taken aback. You had never heard of anything like that from him. “People tend to slip around him because of his alcoholism but he’s been approached about revolution.”

There it was… the dreaded yet long awaited r-word. You were about to get up and leave, not wanting to deal with the repercussions of this conversation, even if Haymitch was the one to initiate it with Finnick. As you were headed for the elevator a Seneca Crane’s voice came over a speaker. “Tributes, may I have your attention? A new tule has been instated. Two victors may be crowned so long as they come from the same District. Good luck and may the odds be ever in your favor.”

You immediately rushed up to your room, eager to find Haymitch but when you arrived there was no sign of him. Unsure of what to do and reluctant to leave the “safety” of the penthouse you decided to wait. You sat down on the couch, continuing to watch as Katniss finally found her district partner.

“Peeta!” she called in fright as she began to dig him up from his own handiwork. “Did you hear the announcement?”

“I did. We could go home,” he said optimistically.

“We could go home,” Katniss agreed, showing hope for the first time ever. The only ones left, except for the tributes from 2, were singles. As much as you wanted your tributes to finally come home you knew there were several issues. 1. Peeta was severely injured and would be holding Katniss back if anything. 2. Clove and Cato were both relatively healthy and you could see them rejoicing on another screen. 3. They’d have to somehow outsmart the girl from District 5 who was always lurking yet never came out to fight. And 4. After Rue you knew Katniss would never willingly kill Thresh.

The camera then changed to the District 2 tributes hiking through the forest, looking for either food or other tributes. You watched as they clumsily tried to kill a squirrel, both throwing blades at it. You knew Clove was an exceptional knife thrower but the squirrel was too small and quick for her to hit. Having never gone hungry a day in their lives they weren’t coping with the loss of their supply stash well.

The cameras moved to Thresh who had a decent assortment of plants stashed in his bag as well as a scythe. As for the girl from District 5 she was currently curled up near some rocks, decently hidden.

You had to admit that if Katniss and Peeta didn’t win you’d want it to be Thresh. From what Chaff had told Haymitch he was a good person who had looked out for the people in his district, including young Rue when they had been reaped. Similar to Katniss.

Katniss and Peeta had staggered into a cave setting up for the night, trying to figure out what to do next. “We’ll get you some medicine,” she said.

“I don’t get many parachutes,” Peeta protested.

“We’ll figure something out,” she promised. You could see the cogs turning in her head before she pressed a chaste kiss to Peeta’s cheek. You could practically hear the cheers erupting from the Capitol people who had become enthralled in the romance.

Seeing the relative state of calm the game makers had decided that not much would happen and they dimmed the lights, creating night.

Soon enough Haymitch was entering the room. “Did you hear?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he smiled, “and I made that happen.”

Your jaw slackened in shock. “What?” How did he get an audience with someone powerful enough to amend the rules? “How?”

“My incredible persuasion skills,” he teased, wrapping his arms around your waist. “We’re gonna bring them home.”

You wanted to cry you were so overwhelmed with emotion. “We’re gonna fight to bring them home,” you agreed. “Peeta needs medicine. The stuff we sent Katniss for her burn isn’t doing anything.”

“I know the sponsor booth is closed for tonight. We’ll go first thing in the morning.” He punctuated the sentence with a kiss to your forehead.

~

The games stayed on all night as Haymitch and you slept. The camera switched between District 2 and 12 since that was the closest thing they had to interesting content. You woke up the first time to the beeping of a parachute. “I thought the sponsors booth was closed,” you groggily asked an even more so groggy Haymitch.

“I managed to convince some people to get them something right before the booth closed. I don’t know why they’re just now sending it,” he explained, face still half pressed into the pillow.

“Do you know what they sent?” you asked, hoping for medicine so 12 would have a fighting chance.

“I don’t. Hopefully medicine,” your lover said as if reading your mind.

“It’s soup,” you answered, slightly disappointed as Katniss opened the container. “At least it’s something.” Haymitch pulled you down closer to him as he fell back asleep with his face pressed into the crook of your neck. You still watched through hazy eyes as Katniss fed Peeta the soup, kissing him occasionally. They’re going to have to make out if they want to get medicine you thought as you drifted off to sleep reluctantly.

The next time you were woken it was due to Haymitch shaking your shoulder vigorously.

“…feast at the cornucopia for something each of you need,” was all you heard before the typical Capitol sign off.

“What’s going on?” you asked, still reluctant to be awake.

“They’re gonna give them medicine.”

Part III | Masterlist | Part V

[sleepy-spacetronaut]

Gravity Falls fanfic plot idea

After a long moment of debating I decided to write down something I could incorporate my Human!Bill design into. (Why do all my writing ideas come to me at the worst possible times?!)

Some plot related specificities

Bill has a human form he maintains up until he managed to restore his magic back to 50% of its initial quantity.

Stanley would have some amnesiac episodes and holes in his memory.

Subsequently, Bill would offer to help restore some of them since he saw most of his memories back when he tried to possess him in Season 1.

Mabel and Dipper would turn 16 during the summer (story happens 2 years post weirdmaggedon)

One-sided BillFord (romantically) most likely, it could become queerplatonic with mutual bickering.

High chances of the story being anachronistic for the sole purpose of using some Gen Z slang and songs from the 2010s.

We will try to stick as close to the canon as possible, until we jump into complete and utter weirdness powered by imagination.

The plot itself

Main idea is that the initial “forced therapy for millions of years” solution failed miserably. Knowing that Bill is chaos incarnate, he would be driving the theraprism staff mad for the sake of getting a rise out of people. He’d make arts and crafts with his meds, bullsh*t his way through therapy sessions ,and draw cringe stuff about him and Ford dominating the multiverse together, whenever he’s not drawing red, blue and yellow triangles all over his room/cell.

The story would most likely begin with Bill getting thrown back to earth for being an annoying little equilateral freak.

The logic behind this is that if therapy couldn’t cure him, and sending him to Hell would be the same as sentencing an unworthy man to ostracism in ancient Athens, then shipping him off to earth (buttnaked and with no powers) and letting him fend for his life as a lowly human is their best option at getting him to ‘learn his lesson’.

I love the Handyman Bill AU (credit to @/LosanPostle & @/waty_mot on Twitter*), so Bill will be taken in by Soos and Melody to work in the mystery Shack, however at first Bill will sneak in pretending to be an overly curious tourist and try to find a way to Ford’s laboratory. Only after getting discovered , the Axolotl would materialize in their realm to explain the reason why the dream demon was back, and ask Soos and Melody if they were okay to give Bill a place to stay for the time of his ‘redemption arc’.

With some compromises they accept, Bill must to wear an ankle monitor at all times and the Axolotl grants its protection to all the people who live in the town in case Bill tries anything silly! (e.g. Weirdmaggedon 2 since one near end-of-the-world experience clearly wasn’t enough for him)

At first he’d be casually helping out around when asked before it became his unofficial job, but the trouble settle in when the Stan twins return from their trip. They arrive at the shack two weeks before Mabel and Dipper returned for their summer vacation to visit their grunkles.

Once the younger Pines are in town, Bill will be attempting to gain their trust—this part is both difficult and incredibly delicate.

After the way he had actively tried to murder , had tortured (physically and psychologically), impersonated and lied to the Pines (and everyone else in Gravity Falls for that matter), people would first try to avoid even being in the same room as him. Eventually, he got to earn their trust by keeping to his end of he bargain each time he made promises and by actually doing favours for them.

Besides cleaning the shack and running many errands at a time, Bill would also get dragged into some perilous adventures with and without his consent, and will eventually develop a fondness for the people he’ve sworn to hate.

Mabel would probably become his favourite, he’d see her as a younger sister or perhaps as a daughter, although he wouldn’t qualify as a good caretaker. With Dipper, Bill would often get into disagreements, but their love for science, strategy games and music brought them together; they’d often sing some BABBA songs and be dorky and unserious.

Regarding his love life, it was a major flop: despite his and Mabel’s efforts, he couldn’t get back with Sixer. The cut in their withered relationship was too deep to heal with time, and romantic fantasies were quickly dumped in the trash along with crumpled love notes. Although, despite not being able to see him as a romantic partner, Ford accepted the possibility of a renewal of their friendship. Bill even got to share a moment with Ford on the roof one night and rest his head on Ford’s shoulder as they gazed at the stars. Everything seems to be going great.

For once in his existence, Bill had almost everything he’d ever wanted, in a way. A place he could call home, he had friends—and family, to an extent… However, he wasn’t satsfied with what he had, and would still snoop around Ford’s stuff to see if he can make his powers return (which they do indeed, slowly by surely), yet more passively.

At one point, at the end of July, he got caught by Stanford looking through some old books and writing down magic circles. A heated argument broke out, in which both of them got injured, and it cumulated too Ford threatening to erase Bill a second time via the memory gun he kept from McGucket. In the end, Ford states that Bill will never be a part of the Pines family, that his lying was proof of the impossibility of his redemption, and that the next time he wouldn’t hesitate to get rid of him.

Upset beyond measure, Bill packs his stuff and choses to leave the town without a word of goodbye. At the edge of the town, he found his way blocked by the natural weirdness containment barrier, since his magic would almost be the same as half of what he had prior to his death and resurrection in the Theraprism. Even more enraged, Bill tried to break the barrier, transforming into something close to his feral form when he was a triangle—except in human form he’d look something like a Titan. Mabel and Dipper also had ran off in search for Bill because they got worried, and when they tried to stop him, they got captured. Bill was almost about to crush them in his hands if it weren’t for Melody, Soos, Stan and Ford’s intervention.

He then shrunk back to regular human proportions and released the twins, who got back to their grunkles. Feeling as if he had messed it up yet again, and not wanting to face the consequences to his actions (both due to him being still bitter with the way Ford treated him and being scared because he overstepped the agreement Soos had with the Axolotl and did not want to be returned to the Theraprism) Bill chose to run. He took off into the woods before anyone could stop him. Would he survive the woods and it’s inhabitants?

Would he get back to the shack?

Would he travel to another dimension and attempt to ‘fix’ everything, or will his existence be doomed to a catastrophic ending?

Only time will tell.

Now a little poll time, should I bring this to life or shall it forever be a theoretical thing, too dangerous (or boring?) to be applied in practice?

*note regarding the AU: there’s an account here where the creators of the Handyman Bill AU post their comics, they can be found under the tag or simply by searching the name of the AU in the search bar.

[zootopiathingz]

Genuine question: Why do you ship Radiobelle? I've seen a lot of people doing it, and I'm curious as to what the appeal is!

The real question is, why do people ship anything? Why do we all see two or sometimes more characters interact with each other and imagine how cool it would be if they both had deep-seated romantic feelings for the other?

Answer: cuz we can!😌

Idk about the rest of you, but I don’t exactly have much control over what I ship and don’t ship😅 I just see the characters together and my brain randomly decides either “yes I want them to make out” or “nooo I don’t really see it”

But as for Radiobelle specifically, there’s just something about them that my silly fangirl heart can’t resist. While I am fairly new to the HH fandom, I did watch the pilot around the time it came out and a small part of me did ship them back then. But I never really allowed myself to indulge in it and I just wasn’t that into the show anyway so I didn’t bother. Now, after actually watching the episodes and engaging in fandom content, I finally embraced the cringe to the full extent and let myself be consumed by the radio demon and his charming demon belle! :P

Now I’m aware that the majority of people don’t like Radiobelle, or even full-on hate it for multiple reasons. Sure, whatever. You don’t have to like every ship, nor does anyone expect you to! I can understand it’s not for everybody. The main thing that bugs me, though, is when people try to start arguments about why it’ll never be canon and why you shouldn’t ship it. “Charlie is with Vaggie and Alastor is aro/ace!” People ship Alastor with a multitude of other characters and nobody bats an eye,, why is it only when you see him being drawn with Charlie that you lose your shit and get offended about his sexuality being ‘erased’? (That’s a topic for a whole other post tbh). And people can ship Charlie with other people. Hell, they DO! I’ve seen numerous art of her and other characters.

Then there’s also the “Alastor thinks of her as his daughter!” See, I want everybody to actually watch episode 5 again and come back to me on this. No, he fucking does not. The only reason he was saying any of that was to get under Lucifer’s skin. That’s it. That was his whole intention. He doesn’t like Lucifer and wanted to rub it in his face that he has been a lousy father to his daughter, in comparison to all the ways he has helped her, with the hotel and whatever else.

Phew, now that I’ve gotten that out of the way! Onto why Radiobelle has stolen my heart!

I just love their dynamic and it all really started with the pilot. Alastor—this mysterious force of nature who can kill anyone and anything, is capable of unimaginable power and torture—randomly showing up on the doorstep of a hotel to help out. And literally no one else trusts him (reasonably so) but Charlie, the good-hearted soul she is, lets him in. She’s cautious, of course, but she’s giving him the chance to do some good because that’s what her dream is all about!

Now while I do wish they had some more interactions in the actual show, what we have so far is scrumptious✨ Alastor may have been giving an abundance of praise to Charlie to piss off her dad, but I don’t think he was lying. Deep down I’m sure he is enjoying the time they’ve spent together—even if he doesn’t fully realize it. Charlie defends Al’s sadistic behavior to her dad because he was doing it to defend the hotel (and bc he’s a cocky mf lol but it’s endearing to her in a way).

Oh and don’t even get me STARTED on episode 7 bro,, omfg the content!! The way he’s extra touchy with her even after they’ve made their deal. Her being nervous and stressed out but he encourages her anyway and verbally admits that he had faith in her the whole time. Him giving her his microphone—which is likely the main source of his power as shown in episode 8 (where he let her use his mic AGAIN!!!) which just shows how much he actually trusts her,, UGH it’s just 🤌🏻🤌🏻🤌🏻🤌🏻 give me more!!

Now, do I expect Radiobelle to become canon? No. Would it be fucking awesome if it did? Oh absolutely. But I know it won’t, and I don’t care! I’m having the time of my life shipping these two hell-dwelling idiots and I don’t care what anyone says about it!😋

[lundenloves]

couples counselling II

Did someone say angst? Gimme an A, gimme an N— no? Okay. Listen I never claimed to be happy, and this is further proof. Welcome new readers, *leans on doorframe alluringly* I love writing character demise. Happy reading, kids.

↳ angst, angst and angst | 2.1k

part one | masterlist

javier being dismissive and nonchalant again. everyone calm down and stay together, this is a guided tour, follow the red flag i’m holding as we explore the peña mind.

The first seven days: in a word, torture. Well, not quite but it certainly came close by the amplified scoffs, sighs and arguments. Javier hadn’t managed to let go of the fact this whole thing was Aleta’s actual idea, a poor one at that, mumbling profanities to himself the moment he had stepped out the door. She followed behind him, refusing to walk by his side when he was being such an ignorant fuck about the whole thing.

“You want this to work?” He stopped, turning to face her in the middle of the parking lot — palms faced up in question. The sun had caught his glare, somehow injecting it with an extra dose of inconvenience just to add salt to the wound. “Huh, pateadora?”

Aleta cringed at the derogatory nickname he had used. Kicker. He’d coined it in El Paso following an onslaught of kicks to his shin under tables for inappropriate conversations, and he couldn't resist but stamp the name onto her. Like a medal to an athlete. She fucking hated it. “Get off the fucking road, pendejo.”

“Then walk with me.” His eyes followed her, condescendingly shaking his head when she’d pushed him from his stoppage. “Hardly asking for salvation, here.” Aleta groaned frustratedly at his mutter, rounding the car to enter the passenger side.

“No. You’re asking for death.”

Javier leaned his head against the steering wheel, finding his shoulders vibrating in laughter. This really was fucking ridiculous. He hit the dash with a thud, sitting back in his seat and pushing arms across his broad chest.

“This won’t work, you know.” He said, eyes fixed onto the near empty parking lot ahead of them.

Aleta studied his features, sighing at the familiar crease by his eyes and the way it loosened when he’d momentarily lifted his brow. The finger that traced across his bottom lip, then down to his jaw, smoothing over his cheek in visible stress.

“That’s only because you don’t want it to work.”

He’d snorted at that. “I’m paying two-hundred an hour for it, Aleta.”

“Fucking show interest then.” She berated loudly.

And to be fair, they’d tried. They really had tried on the task given to them. But staring at someone who literally boils your blood with a snap of his fingers was hard to do, Javier likewise, finding anything a better option than conceding to the request.

And admittedly, he’d been ducking out of it a bit. Purposely staying later at the office and tiptoeing around the house so as to not wake her when he had eventually gotten home late. He knew it would result in a chewing next Sunday at the session. He just didn’t care.

So one night when he had come home to find her sitting in the kitchen, it was endgame.

“Shit.” He dropped his jacket to the kitchen table, clutching a hand to his chest. “What the fuck are you doing?” A deep frown set across his brow, opening the fridge for a bottle of water before turning to look at her over his shoulder.

“Sit.” She near ordered, pushing out a chair for him with her foot.

He turned around. “Why.” Eyes cast downward to the floor with a sharp exhale before placing his hands on his hips purposefully. “It’s late.”

“Puto, sientas.”

Javier stared at her for a moment, his eyes twitching at her energy. He kicked the chair further wide of her leg, sitting down with his hand centre on the table. She locked eyes with him and he let out a long sigh, dropping his head to hang between his shoulders.

“You’re not trying. She asked us to try.” Aleta leaned forward onto the table, watching as he swiped his hand back toward himself.

“And you’re pushing mountains?” He quipped, sitting back and planting his feet a far distance from one another. “This isn’t a one way thing.”

“That’s what i’m fuckin’ saying, pendejo.”

Javier rubbed his face, dragging his skin down in fatigue before turning to her. “Well then let her deal with it.” An accusatory palm had been gestured toward the door, as if the Doctor was standing outside. “I don’t know why you're so insistent on us. We can’t even fucking look at eachother.” His arms thrown ahead of himself to emphasise the point.

“Fuck you.”

“Look me in the eye and tell me I'm wrong.” The side of his lip tugged upward at her lack of reaction, both of his hands landing flat on the table. And for a moment, a slight moment — Aleta had thought that was it for them.

And it would've been if she couldn't read Javier well, the minute flaring of his nostrils and the way he inwardly sighed, his features softening and passing as eerie hostility to anyone but the woman opposite him.

He was scared of it all.

And that’s exactly what the Doctor had clocked onto in that session come Sunday. Her notes were pointedly placed by her chair instead of her lap. It was the first thing Javier had noticed when walking in, failing to hide the crease between his brows.

“Mr and Mrs Peña.” She nodded with a stiff smile.

Javier sat back on the deep sofa, maintaining the same distance to his wife as before and looking up to the ceiling in anticipation of more headaches. The muscles in his arms flexed when his hands had been pushed through his hair, joining at his nape. “Mornin’.” He grumbled.

The Doctor took a moment before clearing her throat. “How did you get on with what we discussed?”

“We tried.”

“No we didn’t. Not really.” Javier spoke, receiving a lengthy glare from his wife.

“We did.” She bit back, wasting no time. “He’s just scared of it all.” Her words came like a dagger to Javi’s masculinity, like she’d just clawed it back and shoved him in front of a crowd. He returned his eyes to the scene before him, looking at her like a kicked dog. The Doctor tilted her head at Aleta’s words before looking to Javier.

“Does loss scare you?” Her soft tone angered him.

“No.” He replied dryly, shifting in his seat.

The Doctor allowed for his denial, her eyes flitting to Aleta who had subtly nodded as if to confirm he was lying. “He picked up extra hours. Again.”

“I already had those hours.” His arms crossed tight over his chest again in self-preservation. “I told you, I don’t know why we’re still trying. This is fucking stupid.”

Aleta bit on her lip, a projecting smile forming. “You’re the one who's paying.” Her attempt to mask the brewing anger was not working. Javier sat forward, looking toward the Doctor to ignore his wife.

“I’m paying because all you do is fucking complain.”

“And you believe the love isn’t there anymore, Javier?” There came an interception from Aleta’s pending bite, flicking a few pages deeper in her notes before looking up to him.

“No, it’s gone.” He cleared his throat while resting his elbows on his knees, looking to the floor over joined hands.

“Is that what you want?”

Javier's jaw ticked, rubbing the back of his neck before shrugging silently. His face remaining stiff, eyes stuck to the vinyl flooring as if a certain death would occur upon his looking up. “I don’t really care.” The nonchalance in his voice was expected.

“That’s bullshit.” Aleta interrupted strongly. “You fuckin’ know it is, Javi.”

He looked back at her. “Is it?” A hand ran up his neck and over his hair with a grin, her sudden reaction setting him off. “Or is that what you want? You want this whole thing to blow over?”

“That’s not what we’re here for.”

“No, we're here to waste time.” He silenced her, shaking his head before looking back to the Doctor who gave a weak smile.

“This won’t work if both parties aren’t cooperating.” She only added salt to Aleta’s wounds, the pressing of her lips rounding the words off like a fucking punch to the gut.

Javier clapped his hands once, dropping them to his thighs. “That’ll be us then.” He said, digging into his pockets to source a cigarette.

“Will it shit.”

His wife’s tone was brash, her pupils blown in impatience as he caught eyes with her. His tongue swiped across his bottom lip before sticking the cigarette to it, “I can smoke in here, right?”

The white coat opposite him nodded, shifting a few papers across her lap and back to the table. Shaking her head, she asked, “What’s the ideal outcome for you two.”

“To not kill each other.” Javier mused like this whole thing was a joke, tapping the heel of his boot on the floor. A long trail of smoke danced above his cigarette, absorbing Aleta’s attention more than his remark.

“Aleta?”

“For him to stop lying.”

She hadn’t blinked, still in a daze for the smoke.

Javier only looked at her, his eyes squinting before taking a slow drag in thought. Knee once again betraying him for the way it bounced up and down, and the quietness of her voice tightening his jaw.

“I think you two need to talk. With no avoidance.”

He snorted.

“Here. You’ll talk here.” She clicked her pen on a notebook that had been opened to a fresh page. “Javier, tell Aleta something you like about her.”

The instruction made him sigh, sitting back on the sofa and looking up in contemplation for a little too long. “Her lips.”

“Vice versa.”

“I like his eyes.”

“Who loved first?”

“Me.” Javier answered shortly, his eyes shifting toward hers for a split second.

“Recall it.”

Aleta figured out what was going on pretty quickly. It was a solemn attempt to reignite the memories in Javi’s head, maybe create a spark for a flame of their marriage to continue on.

He puffed out a breath, dropping his shoulders and looking back up toward the ceiling. “She didn’t like me, kept pushing me away.” The smoke of his cigarette came with the words, exhalation pushing them up to cloud. “But I was persistent. I wanted her.”

“Why did you want her?”

He sat forward, almost laughing with a tilt of his head. “She made me nervous.”

Aleta’s eyes averted to the floor.

“No one made me feel like that.”

The room fell quiet and for the first time, it was allowed. The white coat encouraged the way they stared at one another. Javier rubbed at his temple, leaning forward but looking back to his wife who stared down at him.

He was a stoic person.

And the breakdown of their marriage forced him to close back up. The feeling of losing that primal safety contributing to the resurface of nonchalance and disinterest.

He knew that she was aware of it.

Which only pushed him further off that cliff.

“Why did you give him a chance?”

Aleta laughed. “I don’t know.” Her smile slowly faded into a shadow, nostrils flaring in evidence to her upset.

No one had asked that before.

“How about we wrap this one up…” A smile came empathetically, closing her notebook and the matching folder titled Peña. “I just want you two to talk. That’s all.”

Javier stubbed his cigarette out in the provided ashtray, rubbing his face. “Alright.” He answered for his wife.

“And what I asked last week too. Maybe try that again.” Aleta nodded absently, unfreezing from her trance and standing up to follow Javi who held the door open. “See you next Sunday.”

Fuck. This.

It felt like Deja Vu by the time they had reached the parking lot again. Javier stood in the middle of it once more, a cigarette clung to his lip while looking back at Aleta. The long inhale he took felt futile by the way it was instantly sighed out, hand placed on his hip.

“I told you, it’s not going to work.”

“Ten years. Javier. Fucking ten years.”

His eyes looked black from where she was standing. And the calmness of his movements was telling against her building rage for every passing day, he didn’t want this. He didn’t want her.

“You really don’t want this?”

One side of his lip turned downward for the nod he gave, as if this is what he was trying to say all along. He shook his head, “No. I don’t.” Arms dropping to his sides in defeat.

He just wasn’t scared enough.

reblogs and comments are very much appreciated! i’ll sit in a hole if no one pats me on the head every now and then.

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[tmntxthings]

一∑ All For You・゜・。

author’s note: nice song, idk how I got the yandere vibes, but here we are, also it’s late soooo unedited and prolly horrendous >.<

warnings: yandere!donnie, toxic relationship, gaslighting, lies, manipulation, controlling, cursing

song: “ Feather by Sabrina Carpenter ”

—————————————————————————

Donatello didn’t feel any remorse as he hacked into your phone.

You obviously needed help.

You couldn’t do this yourself.

So he took it upon himself to help you out with this one.

It was honestly torture to watch you with your toxic partner.

And he was past the point of caring about the repercussions you may force upon him.

Donnie was actually pretty sure you would be grateful. This favor he was about to do for you.

It was too easy to get into your phone. Donnie sat in his swivel chair, music playing around him as he dabbled with the keys on his keyboard.

After he had cornered his resolve it was only a matter of time. He knew most of your passwords and while he could’ve just stolen your phone to do this… he didn’t want to chance it.

Donnie wouldn’t just block this asshole. No no. He was going to eradicate this fool from your phone. Wipe it clean of your partner's existence. There would be no way they could reach you and if they tried instead it would alert Donnie.

You were unhappy with your current situation. You came to the lair moping, and in a depressive state due to this punk! And it seemed every time you did go through with breaking up, it would last only a couple of hours before this irritating charmer found their way back into your life. Back as your partner.

Well Donnie had enough. And he was positive you felt the same way. You just needed his help. Needed him to take control and save you. Make all the hard decisions so you wouldn’t have to feel guilty.

Gladly! He would gladly do all these things and more to get you back into a happier state. And you would see! Once you got over the fact that he intruded into your space, and completely blocked someone out of your life… all that was missing was the irl part.

Donnie didn’t know if he was ready to commit murder on your behalf yet. So this would have to do for now.

It had worked too. Initially you had wondered why they weren’t responding to you, messaging or calling you. But as the days went by you were brighter, lighter.

And Donnie had to keep it together to not verbally ask for a gracious thank you. No, this was enough. Just seeing you smile. Yeah. A feather is what you became. You floated into his lab, giggling about some comedy movie you had just finished. Asking him about his latest and greatest.

Now usually Donnie was very attentive to you. Especially when you came in his space. He had to make sure you didn’t accidentally light something on fire or god forbid press a button that should probably have a fingerprint approval on it.

So yeah, he was halfway listening to you. His headphones buzzing from a tune, typing something on his monitor when he got a blip of a notification. One that you clocked in on.

“Who’s that??”

And like a cat he jumped in his seat. Realizing it was a message from your asshole of a partner. He was trying to close out his screens and his fingers flew to cover up his mistake. But the world was against him as your head leaned past his shoulder, scrutinizing the screen as he missed the escape button a trillion times.

“Fucking Asshole?”

You questioned and as you read the message. No the loads of messages that had gone between Donnie and well..your soon to be ex! You took a sharp intake of breath.

“Donnie what the fuck is this??”

He cringed. Finally closing, it made a resound click. “Before I admit to my crimes I’d like to point out how happy you’ve been these past couple of days! Just think, you could be this way all the tim—“

“Donnie!!” You yelled, staring him down now.

He pulled down his headset. “Really Y/n you’re overreacting right now. All I’ve done is block them permanently off your phone and rerouted everything they send to me instead.” He listed all of this off nonchalantly. It was all totally cool. It was chill! It was fineeee!

You just continued to stare, though your eyes had widened incrementally as you assessed the bigger picture. “And you’re responding to them??”

“Ahh well.. I couldn’t help myself. I told myself I wouldn’t but.. pretending to be you and slowly breaking their resolve was just too fun to miss out on! Pretty sure they're gonna break up with you soon!” Donnie tacked on the last sentence as a bonus! A super positive plus that surely you were happy about.

“Donnie this is fucked up. You can’t just do that! You can’t just, UGH! I can’t even right now Dee. I’m leaving.”

You were bolting. And Donnie wondered if he should follow. He swiveled. Once. Twice. Fuck it he was going after you! To explain better.

“Y/n! Wait!” He called out, jumping from his chair and pressing on his wrist tech to call for a battle shell. It shot out from the charging station and latched onto his softshell. Once in place he went in jetpack mode, flying through the sewer and assessing you had already made it topside.

You were steps from walking out onto the sidewalk and into the flow of commuters. That was before his hands found your waist, gripping tightly as he picked your weight up off the ground and he shot into the air.

You screamed, flailing before deciding you didn’t want to fall and clung to him instead. Now you were cursing as he slowed down to land on an empty rooftop.

“You’re no better than them! Doing all of this by yourself! Doing things I never asked for and don’t want!” You hollered, getting heated even though you were still trying to catch your breath. Wind whipped past the both of you, leaving trails of goosebumps on you.

Donnie let you get it all off your chest. And by the end of your rant, “now get me off this roof and leave me the hell alone!” You wanted away. Still trying to run. Well now you had nowhere to go unless you wanted to fall six floors down.

“I think if you just took a moment to look past what I’ve done you’ll see I only did it for you! And it’s benefitted you so far! Why do you want to go through that cycle of breakups again? When I could just take care of this problem for you!”

This all sounded reasonable to Donatello. Nice even. “I know it may look bad to you Donnie, but I really do like them. Despite our ups and downs.”

“More downs than ups..” Donnie muttered. Rolling his eyes at the word you used ‘like’. Whatever. There was no way you liked them. Why were you over all the time then? Why not hang out with them? And brimming with excitement too whenever you hung around? When you did come over after a date with your partner you were never that happy!

“I’m serious Donnie, fix what you did or else this will be the last you see of me.”

What?!

You were threatening him now?? After all he had done? His eyes darkened. A sneer appearing on his face as he stalked forward, “Really now? Where you gonna go Y/n?” Donnie looked out at the empty rooftop. No door, no staircase/fire escape. You took in your surroundings too. Your mouth going into a grim line.

“I’ll call the police. I’ll call your brothers!” Again with the threats!

Donnie expanded his tech bo. And while you jumped back thinking he was about to attack, he just leaned over it, bored to bits already. “Go ahead, try calling up a hero. We’ve got all the time in the world up here for you to understand my side of things.”

You didn’t know why every call you tried failed. Well that was until you looked up to see Donnie canceling it on his end. On his wrist tech. He shot you a swarmy wink when he caught you staring. Fuming. You’d see his point of view soon.

—————————————————————————

below are answered anon asks from this post:

thoughts on ‘jumping’

thoughts on ‘pretending’

thoughts on ‘layers’

[tortillamastersblog]

꧁ Angels Don’t Cry | Mor ꧂

Pairing: Mor x reader

Warnings: Mentions of torture, injuries, blood, kidnapping, vomiting and explicit language

Summary: After Hybern’s defeat, the Inner Circle makes a grave discovery in the late King’s dungeons. . .

Next Part | Masterlist

________________________________________________

It’s still dark outside, but a sliver of silver light at the horizon tells me the sun will rise within the next hour.

For the past weeks now, ever since being rescued from Hybern, I’ve woken up in the early hours of the morning to watch the sky turn pink and orange.

It reminds me that a new day is about to begin and that my life didn’t end when I was taken from Windhaven before the first war.

I was a youngling then, but a lot of time has passed since and the things I’ve endured and seen over the last five centuries have turned me into someone I don’t recognize.

I don’t know who I am anymore. I just know that Azriel is my half-brother (something I was told by the King to torment me even further) and that the Night Court is my home, but the inner circle isn’t exactly my family yet.

Not even Azriel. He’s my brother, yes, but he’s doesn’t feel like family yet.

The only family I ever had was my mother, but she’s been dead for a long time now and I have nothing but my own memories to remember her by.

I sigh and lean my head against the windowsill, letting my wings lazily brush against the carpeted floor.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Having heard his heartbeat in the shadows, I don’t flinch when Azriel steps into view. He’s dressed like me, wearing a simple black sweater and a pair of sweatpants, obviously having gotten out of bed not too long ago as well.

I direct my attention back to the rising sun and nod. “Yup.”

Silence.

Then—

“You haven’t been sleeping properly.”

I cringe, feeling my wings twitch involuntarily. There’s no point in denying it, but I’m also not going to admit it, so I just stay silent.

“I understand,” he goes on softly, “and. . . I’m sorry you’re going through this.”

Being a man of few emotions and even fewer words, I’m surprised to hear such compassion in his voice. I turn to look at him only to find him already next to me, also looking out of the window.

In this moment, I can’t put into words how grateful I am to have met him. He understands what I’m going through like no one else and he always seems to know when I’m in need of his comforting company.

Even when we’re not talking, like right now, we understand each other on a different level.

The only other person who comes close to understanding me is Feyre.

She’s calm and kind, and she’s offered to teach me how to paint a couple of times now, claiming it could be a good way for me to process what happened and escape from the real world for a bit.

So far, I’ve not taken her up on the offer, but I can see myself actually letting her teach me in the future once I’ve settled in properly.

“So, will I be seeing you at training after breakfast again?” Azriel asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.

A week ago, he convinced me to join him on the roof to train alongside Cassian and Feyre. The exercise has been a great distraction and a good way to blow off some steam, not to mention it’s always good to know how to fight and defend yourself.

“I guess so, yes.” I shrug and by the awkward silence that follows, I know he wants to say something else.

It takes a couple of seconds for him to actually spit it out, and when he does, I know why he was hesitant. “Cassian actually suggested we try to get you to fly today.”

Flying. . . I immediately shut down at the idea of it.

Having been kidnapped as Hybern’s trophy, they didn’t dare clip my wings, but they bound them and locked me in a cell.

I was only taken out every so often when they either wanted to torture me, make fun of me, show me off to their allies, or wanted to fulfill their unspeakable needs.

Now, I’m free and my wings are no longer bound, but I haven’t been able to bring myself to fly yet. I don’t know why because there’s nothing wrong with them (they’re just a little weak), but every time I even just think of using them I get all chocked up and I shut down.

“Az. . . I don’t know. I-I can’t,” I admit quietly.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he assures me and then we go back to watching the sun rise in silence.

As soon as it’s over the horizon, Azriel smiles and squeezes my shoulder in encouragement. “I’ll see you up there.”

I nod and watch him vanish in the shadows before getting ready for the day. I make the bed, brush my teeth, and eat some of the breakfast that magically appears on the desk next to the window.

Then I get dressed and as if on cue, Feyre knocks on my door just as I finish strapping my dagger to my thigh.

“Ready?” she asks with a genuine smile and I nod, following her up to the roof wordlessly.

Cassian ended up missing training because he had to run some last minute errands with Rhysand which left Azriel, Feyre and me to train alone.

We worked on our sparring skills and then moved on to some disarming techniques before finishing the session with conditioning sprints.

By the time we were done, Feyre and I were both red-faced and sweating despite the cold while Azriel was barely out of breath, snuggled into his thick sweatshirt.

Winter Solstice is in four weeks, meaning it’s freezing outside and even though it hasn’t snowed yet, I know it won’t be long now until the first flakes fall and cover everything under a soft, cold blanket.

Now, with my legs burning and my stomach growling for some more food since I skimped out on breakfast, I make my way to the kitchen where Nuala and Cerridwen are already working on tonight’s dinner.

It’s going to be big because the entire inner circle is invited and because the last dinner was hosted at the Town House, tonight’s will be hosted here in the House of Wind.

To my surprise, the twins aren’t alone and when I walk in, Elain smiles shyly and drops her chin in greeting while the others go on working quietly.

“Hello,” I say with a small smile of my own. “I see you’re all hard at work already. . .”

Nuala continues kneading the bread dough but looks up to meet my eyes. “Yes, there’s much to be done, but it’s nothing we can’t handle.”

Elain and Cerridwen hum in agreement.

“Oh, I’m sure it’s not. Your food is always amazing.” As if to prove a point my stomach growls and all three of them smirk my way.

“Are you hungry?” Elain asks with a knowing look and I nod my head as she wipes her hands off on her apron. “Let me fix you a plate then.”

“It’s okay I can just—“

“It’s fine,” she cuts me off and vanishes in the pantry before I can object again.

I came here to grab a snack like an apple or a handful of nuts, not eat a whole three course meal, but I guess there’s no point in trying to stop Elain again. Especially when she re-emerges from the pantry with a plate laden with smoked meat, a slice of bread, a couple cheese cubes and a handful of grapes.

“Here you go.” She hands me the plate with another shy smile and I can’t help but bow playfully.

“Thank you. This really wasn’t necessary, but the effort is appreciated greatly,” I say honestly which makes a faint blush appear on her cheeks.

She quickly turns back around and resumes decorating the pastries she was working on before, which I take as my cue to leave.

Thanking all of them once more and offering my help in case they need it (they don’t), I go back to my room and eat on my bed while toeing off my shoes.

Elain is sweet like Feyre, but she’s definitely more introverted. She doesn’t talk much, like Amren, but when she does, she’s always sincere and honest. It’s something I appreciate a lot, having been lied to almost all my life, and even though I can’t see myself catching romantic feelings for her, I do believe that we could become great friends.

I eat and undress at the same time, my muscles weak from exhaustion, before placing the empty plate on the table by the window.

It vanishes almost instantly like all the empty plates and cups I’ve placed on it over the last weeks, leaving me to go about my business without having to worry about returning dishes.

I go into the rooms adjoining bathroom and sigh when I see that the house has already filled the bath with steaming water and mountains of bubbles.

I swallow the last cube of cheese and take off my undergarments before sinking into the hot water.

My wings twitch at the instant relief that flows through me and I sinking down even further until the water is all the way up to my chin.

I sit like that for over half an hour with my eyes close, the lack of sleep catching up to me, before scrubbing myself clean and getting out to dry off.

I unplug the drain and return to my room where I get dressed in a comfortable pair of jeans and a sweatshirt.

Then, just like every day after training and taking a bath, I make my way to the library.

Some days I find Nesta there, lounging in a chair and reading as well, but we never really speak. We simply tolerate each other, and since I share her liking for books and leave her be, she never lays into me the way she does with the others.

Today, however, as I make my way to the library I pass an unfamiliar door that stands slightly ajar. I’ve seen it before, but never bothered to go inside since it’s not polite to snoop around.

What I see inside the room though catches my attention and I can’t help but push the door open further to get a better look.

Standing in the middle of the otherwise empty room on a beautiful handmade carpet is a black grand piano. Its polished surface glints in the daylight that streams in through the uncovered windows, and it’s almost as though its beckoning me to come closer.

I’ve never touched a piano, or played an instrument for that matter but even in Hybern when I attended festivities (more like chained to the wall and forced to watch all the atrocities the King committed in the name of having fun) I’d been mesmerized by the music.

Looking back over my shoulder, I note that there’s no one around, so I slip into the room and close the door behind me.

I take tentative steps toward the instrument, feeling like someone will burst in any second to demand an answer as to what I’m doing, but no one comes, so I hesitantly take a seat on the bench.

I’ve never heard someone play, which either means the room is soundproof or no one’s ever played. I choose to believe the former because I really want to try and play and I’d be embarrassed if anyone heard.

I set mine fingers on the keys after opening the lid over them. They’re smooth and cool beneath my fingers and when I play a random note I jump slightly, not having expected it to be as loud as it is.

I play another note, pressing down on one of the black keys. This time I don’t jump and as time goes I start experimenting with different melodies and rhythms.

It’s far from being any good, but it makes me feel a little less empty inside.

By the time I stop, the sun has set and I realize I should probably be getting ready for dinner.

I quickly close the lid over the keys and sneak out of the room unnoticed. It’s not like I’d be in trouble for using it, but I don’t want anyone to know yet.

This is one of the first things I’ve had all to myself in a long time and I selfishly want to keep it that way a little longer.

Just as I think I might have gotten away with it though, I stumble into someone right as I’m rounding a corner.

“Mor,” I breathe, my wings flailing as I try to steady myself and her.

For a second she holds onto me, her fingers curled around the front of my sweatshirt, but then she pushes me away and steps out of my embrace. She’s already dressed for the dinner, wearing a revealing red dress that hugs her curves perfectly. Her hair cascades down her back in soft curls and the bracelets on her wrists jingle when she moves her arms.

“What are you doing?” she asks, her brown eyes scrutinizing me. “Why are you sneaking around?”

I open and close my mouth like a fish out of water until I manage to stutter, “I-I’m not. I just came from the library.”

Raising an eyebrow, she scowls at me. I’ve always had the feeling she’s doesn’t really liked me because her eyes are always on me like I’m some kind of prey and whenever I say something she clenches her jaw. “The library? Interesting because I just saw Nesta and she said she didn’t see you there today.”

I open my mouth again to defend myself with a little white lie, but then Feyre’s voice echoes through the house calling for Mor.

Brown eyes roam over me once more and then she’s gone.

I close my eyes and take a steadying breath, feeling a weird tug in the pit of my stomach as I listen to her retreating footsteps.

She is beautiful. Divinely so, but that doesn’t change the fact that she hates my guts for some reason. It does however make my stomach tingle inexplicably every time she’s near me.

I grit my teeth at my body’s reaction to her and reopen my eyes before hurrying to my room and getting changed for the dinner.

“I honestly don’t know what happened,” Rhysand says which makes everyone at the table laugh.

He was just telling us about the time he, Azriel and Cassian were kicked out of a pub a long time ago.

Amren grins and takes a sip of her wine. “Cassian ran his fat mouth again, that’s what happened.”

Again, laughter fills the room and even though he flips Amren off, Cassian laughs too. Nesta slaps his hand out of the air and intertwines their fingers under the table, sending him a warning look which only makes his smile widen.

“Anyway. . .” Feyre clears her throat and changes the topic. “Have you guys heard about the Hybern spy that was caught in Adriata yesterday?”

My ears perk up at that and I set my fork down. “Why would Hybern send a spy to the summer court? I thought the king’s niece from the continent was trying to establish a peace treaty now that she’s taken the throne?“

Azriel goes to say something, having a pensive look on his face, but Mor beats him to it.

“Why indeed would Hybern send out spies?” she asks, looking directly at me with challenging eyes.

Taken aback by her not so subtle accusation, I bite the inside of my cheek to stop the hurt that curses through me from showing on my face.

Me? A spy for Hybern? After everything they did to me?

I swallow thickly and look down at my plate. If she knew what they did to me, she’d never say something like that.

Everyone has suddenly gone deathly still and for a second I contemplate just getting up and going to my room, but then, out of all people, Elain comes to my rescue.

“I don’t think the spy was there on Irene’s orders. If he even was a spy, that is. It could just be one of the soldiers who escaped Hybern after the war to avoid the consequences of fighting for the king,” she argues which gains hums and nods of approval.

I look up to smile thankfully which makes her cheeks turn a faint shade of pink. She smiles as well and ducks her head before cutting a piece of asparagus on her plate and eating it.

Azriels eyes dart between the two of us for a moment before his gaze lingers on me with a raised eyebrow.

I just shake my head in silent answer to his unvoiced question which makes his shoulders relax.

I know he likes Elain, I can see it in the way he looks at her even though he thinks no one notices, but it’s like I said. Elain is sweet, but she will never be more than a friend to me.

“Yeah, I’ve spoken to Varian—“ Feyre begins, but she’s interrupted by Mor who, once again, glares at me.

“Maybe,” she says, “but if I were Helion I’d still lock him up and get as much information out of him as possible. He’s a danger to all of Prythian whether he was spying or not.”

My eyes burn with unshed tears and I drop my cutlery to bury my hands in my lap. If it wasn’t clear before, now everyone at the table knows she’s not just talking about the spy.

She’s talking about me. She thinks I should be locked up again.

The memory of my old cell makes me physically recoil and without thinking, I jump to my feet and slam my napkin on the table before rushing out of the room.

I wake up in the middle of the night, screaming at the pain cursing through my back and wings.

“Stop! Please,” I groan, tossing and turning while clawing at my back.

Within a second my door flies open and Cassian and Nesta rush in with horrified looks.

“What’s happening?!” Cassian exclaims, rushing to my side to check me over for injuries. “What hurts?”

All I can do is whimper in pain which seems to alarm him even more as he frantically runs his hands over my back.

“What is it?” he asks again, but I can’t manage to reply.

Nesta’s eyes flickered all over me before she rushes out of the room, calling over her back, “I’m getting Azriel!”

“Please,” I breathe again, my fingers digging into my own shoulders. “Make it stop.”

Cassian, still running his hands over me to find the source of my pain says, “I’m trying! I’m trying, but I don’t understand what’s happening.”

“No, you’re not doing it right,” the king says with furrowed eyebrows. “Give me the whip.”

I watch over my shoulder helplessly as the soldier hands the bloodied whip to the king.

The onlookers cheer and laugh when I slip in the pool of blood at my feet, trying to stay upright. I squeeze my eyes shut and squeeze my bound hands into fists above my head.

I can’t take much more, and the king knows that, but before sending me back to my cell to heal he wants to have his own little fun.

“This-“ he raises the whip in demonstration to hype up the crowd- “is how it’s done!”

I howl in pain and arch my back at the memory of the whip slashing my back and wings.

Then, not a second later, Nesta storms back into the room with Azriel in tow. He’s not the only one she’s apparently managed to wake however because following Azriel is Feyre.

They rush the side of my bed and hold me down to stop the thrashing.

“What is happening?” Nesta asks, her voice uncharacteristically soft.

“I-I don’t know!” Cassian stutters.

Azriel crouches down next to the bed and cups my cheeks. I’m faintly aware of the touch but the king’s face and how he brought the whip down on me again and again keeps replaying in my mind, making it difficult to distinguish between reality and memory. “Talk to me, Y/N,” he pleads.

“Here let me try,” Feyre says squeezing past him to kneel next to the bed. Her clear blue eyes roam all over my face and before she raises her fingers to my temple she whispers, “I’m sorry.”

Then, its as if the barrier around my memories shatters and I scream again, reliving everything that’s ever happened to me in Hybern: the flogging, the humiliation, the unwanted touches all over my body, the beatings, the branding. . . Everything until the last wave of pain ripples through me, leaving me shaking and crying.

“What did you do?” I hear Nesta say and when Feyre doesn’t answer I open my eyes slowly.

For the first time since waking up, my surroundings are clear and when my eyes land on Feyre my heart sinks at the sight of the tears on her cheeks.

She obviously just saw everything I also saw which means she now knows the full extent of what was done to me.

I’ve revealed bits and pieces of how I was treated since I got here, but the only one who’s really known how deep my scars actually run is Azriel. That was until just moments ago because now Feyre knows as well.

“Y/N. . .” she whispers, taking my hand.

I just sob and squeeze my eyes shut again. A moment later, I’m pulled into a tentative embrace.

“I’m so sorry,” she says. “I didn’t— We didn’t know how bad— I mean, Mor— she shouldn’t have—“

She sniffles and apologizes over and over again.

“Stop,” I croak. “It’s not your fault.”

“I know, but I shouldn’t have let Mor talk to you the way she did at dinner. I shouldn’t have left you alone to deal with your trauma, I know how isolating it can feel. I shouldn’t—“

“It’s okay,” I whisper, opening my eyes again only to notice that we’re the only two left in the room. “You didn’t know and you barely know me.”

“I do now though,” she argues. “And I will do better. I promise.“

I force a smile and nod. “Thank you.”

Then, silence settles over us and Feyre doesn’t take her arm off my shoulders.

My back and wings no longer hurt because the wounds healed a long time ago and there wasn’t actually a reason for them to hurt in the first place. Yes, the scar are a little sore sometimes, but they never sting like the actual wounds did.

I’m honestly a little embarrassed because I don’t like people seeing me this vulnerable, but there’s nothing I can do now but hope that no one ever brings it up again.

I know Azriel definitely won’t unless I talk about it first and Nesta won’t say anything about it either, but Cassian? Let’s just say he can be a little insensitive sometimes whether he means to or not.

“Feyre?” I whisper.

“Yes?” She squeezes my shoulders and looks at me with kind eyes.

“Could you not— you know— talk about what happened tonight? What you saw, I mean. . .” I ask hesitantly.

“Of course,” she assures me with another squeeze.

“Thank you.” I lean into her embrace a little more. “For everything.”

“Don’t thank me,” she whispers. “You’re family now and we’re here for each other no matter what.”

Blinking away a new wave of tears, I smile weakly and nod.

Family. . . They really are starting to be my family. Maybe not all of them yet, but definitely Azriel, Feyre and Elain.

The three of them tried to cheer me up after dinner and told me that what Mor had said was complete bullshit, but I told them that I’d rather just be alone and they respected that.

Feyre stays with me a while longer before leaving after I’ve assured her that I’d try to get some more sleep.

I obviously don’t, but I wait until she’s gone before sneaking out of my room and into the room with the grand piano.

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