#kind of an open anyways??-- since like-- i wouldn't mind if someone wanted to pick this up and run somewhere with it lol

[virtualized-vocalists]

The scent of iron was heavy, suffocatingly so… That which was once hot with the flow of life, now steadily cooling… A wet, icy feeling upon his skin-- The worst of it, however, was something else entirely. Once dear faces now frozen, gazes vacant… And so much red-- Such a deep crimson, that seemed to coat almost everything--

The vision of this scene was abruptly shattered away, however, as Len jolted awake. The blonde's small form bolting upright as teal hues darted about the room for a few moments. Only to be greeted with the sight of his bedroom walls… Hesitantly, that gaze shifted down toward his hands… Palms shaky, but with no traces of that suffocating shade of red…

Be that as it may, though-- This didn't stop the wave of emotions that soon crashed over the small blonde. Tightly curling inwards on himself, fists clutched at the blanket now cocooning him, as a choked yet pained sob echoed off the empty walls. Even if the reality of what he'd been seeing had long since faded, that wasn't going to stop the past from haunting him… A fact that Len was painfully aware of, even after the years that had passed by at this point.

[dandylovesturtles]

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

... and Leo, of course.

OH GOD OK

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

it really

really got out of hand.

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Qué?" Leo asks.

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

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

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

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

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

Leo stays noncommittal. "What are the questions?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another growl. He groans out loud.

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That's gotta be unconstitutional."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

He also needs to sleep.

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

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

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

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

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

He wishes he was home.

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

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

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

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

-----

The same routine plays out over the next two days.

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

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

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

Nothing. Always nothing.

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

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

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

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

It's miserable.

And there's still nothing to do.

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

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

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

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

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

-----

Something new happens on night five.

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

Add on the hunger, and sleep is elusive.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Leo's mouth is watering.

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

"I'm not hungry," he lies.

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

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

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

"You want this," he says.

Leo shakes his head.

"You really sure?"

Leo shudders. Stands tall. Nods.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Leo wants to crawl out of his own skin.

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Leo swallows hard. "No comment."

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

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

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

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

"Little bit," says Leo.

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

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

-----

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

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

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

Where are you? Leo thinks back.

There's no answer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He picks up another bottle and starts chewing.

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Baked chicken, broccoli with cheese, mashed potatoes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bishop looks skeptical. "Obviously you are."

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

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

Leo falters, his body going slack.

What an obvious, stupid mistake.

(Some face-man he is.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Leo collapses on his cot and tries not to cry.

-----

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

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

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

Which means his chance is finally here.

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

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

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

Find his swords. Make a portal. Get out.

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

Then the door slides open, and someone comes in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Where is he?

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

BANG!

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

It's a dart.

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

-----

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

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

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

And they threw away all his water bottles. Fuckers.

Leo rolls over on the cot and covers his ears.

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

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

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

He says nothing.

Bishop sighs.

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

But he's just...

so...

hungry.

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

And he nods.

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

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

"Please," he gasps out.

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

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

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

He lowers his head.

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

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

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

And then he takes another bite.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And his stripes...

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

They're almost black.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wants to go home.

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

-----

Maybe they aren't coming.

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

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

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

Unless they aren't coming.

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

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

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

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

Maybe it's time to give up.

---

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

You are not alone.

-----

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

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

No shit, Leo wants to say.

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

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

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

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

But they might hurt the yokai in the Hidden City.

They might hurt Draxum.

They might hurt his family.

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

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

Maybe they'd finally trust him.

Maybe, at least, he can have that much.

Leo shakes his head.

Bishop scowls.

"Temperature down ten degrees."

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he's so sleepy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At least he's not shivering.

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

-----

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

The sound is muffled, and Leo sleeps on.)

-----

Part 1 (here) | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 Part A |

[tenswrld]

true romance

popstar!haechan x upcomingartist!reader, angst, fluff

summary: haechan's the world's boyfriend — and yours too, i guess.

word count: 4.1k

listen to: true romance - pinkpantheress

a/n: first, sorry that its been so long...im trying to be better about writing but inspiration comes and goes,,i hope you will indulge in whatever this is!!! everytime i hear this song my mind goes to haechan for some reason sooo yeah >_< i have lots of drafts its just a matter of when or if i finish them LOL love yall tho & enjoy

•°. *࿐

tell me, do you view me the same or do you call me a stranger?

"leave a bit after me so no one sees."

haechan is popular — without a doubt one of the most popular artists of your time. everyone either wants to be him or be with him, to which you completely understand. everything about him screams someone who was born to be on a stage, stealing hearts and whatnot. with such a bright personality, it was almost impossible to not like him.

you've had the privilege of getting to watch haechan grow from singing songs he wrote in his bedroom on youtube to him performing them in sold out shows. you're a fan, of course, but somewhere along the way — with crazy luck — you've wiggled your way into his life and into his heart. the two of you were music artists wishing on every star for some kind of breakthrough to the industry (take a guess on who got it). naturally, it brought you together. you were there when haechan reached 5,000 subscribers, and you were still there when he was selling out shows to 50,000 people. you've stuck by his side for so long that you're sure that its where you fit best.

in the moment, however, you're not so sure anymore.

"leave a bit after me so no one sees."

the small smile on your face slowly disappears at haechan's words and hurt quickly settles into your chest. "...why? what would be so bad about that?"

haechan seems unable to grasp how upset you are at his words. he shakes his head with a small laugh. "it's not like that, y/n. but a scandal at this time wouldn't be good."

"a scandal?" you scoff slightly. "since when have you ever cared about that?"

he sighs and runs a hand through his hair that's still slightly wet from his post-performance sweat. "i just don't want to take any risks right now. especially since my album is coming out soon. you understand, right?"

"i fly all the way out here to see you, and you don't want to be seen with me?" you say with a trembling lip and a weak voice. you're hurt and you're angry, but can't seem to keep your tears at bay.

"i didn't say that."

"you might as well have," you spit back at him.

"let's talk about this later, okay? trust me, it would be a lot worse for you than it would for me." haechan picks up his bag and swings it over his shoulder, making his way towards the backstage exit door.

frozen in place overwhelmed with emotion, you watch your boyfriend open the door. you think he's had a change of heart when he pauses at the door and turns back to you, but somehow he's managed to hurt you even more.

"maybe you should take these too," he says, placing the bouquet you made him back into your hold. the smell of roses and sunflowers taking over your senses as more tears well up in your eyes. you hope the flowers hide them from haechan's gaze. though, you're not so sure he'd notice anyway, as he'd already let the door close and left you behind.

•°. *࿐

'cause, baby, i don't care about the fame

people talk. as an upcoming music artist, you're aware that people talk. as the (hidden) girlfriend of a global superstar, you're more than aware that people love to talk about anything and everything that doesn't concern them.

you and haechan aren't on the same level of fame — not that it matters to you. it never mattered to you, really. even as haechan grew and grew and you remained with your significantly smaller (but still decent) following, fame was never your strongest desire.

yet, now, you're wondering that maybe if you were just a bit more famous, more popular, more well known, then you wouldn't feel as far away from haechan as you do right now. even as he sits beside you on the king bed of the luxury suite he booked for this stop of his tour, you feel further away from him then ever.

"i mean, what would people say about us, y/n? about you?"

"you keep saying that, hyuck, but you're not explaining it to me," you say, growing frustrated with him. "why is it just about me?"

he purses his lips before averting his gaze to the floor. "they'll say nasty stuff about you — that you're using me for fame, or money, or something like that."

you shake your head. "but you and i both know that's not true. we've been together for how many years now? their words shouldn't matter." you take hold of his hand and rub your thumb against his knuckles. "you could have nothing and i'd still be here."

"people don't know that," he scoffs. "they'll assume the worst about you."

maybe he's right — you're sure they will assume the worst about you regardless of your long, deep history with haechan. would he start to believe them? you think it, but you don’t ask — too afraid of the answer you might receive.

"what are you so afraid of?" you ask him softly, begging him with your mind for him to look at you.

but he doesn't, his eyes stayed trained on the ground and he can only weakly squeeze your hand that holds onto his own.

"i don't know."

•°. *࿐

tell me, why i don't play about you

every song is about you

haechan finally has a short break in between the legs of his tour and he chooses to spend every waking moment of it with you.

things between the two of you have felt rocky for a while. it makes haechan ashamed to say it, but he's been so focused on tour and his new album that he's pushed everything else to the side. he's a perfectionist and he feels like he's barely made it — he wants everything to work out perfectly and is committed to making sure that happens. he's not sure how long he's been brushing off anything non-career related, but he misses you — even if you're with him.

he flys the two of you out to a small, quaint place in kyoto where he finally gets to enjoy some peace and quiet in his life. he chooses to turn off his phone, not too keen with the idea of his manager berating him about all his responsibilities he'll have to tend to when he gets back. he's on vacation and he's here with you: the one person who's been with him through every up and down.

you're laying in his arms and haechan misses you to the point where it hurts — when was the last time he laid with you like this? the revelation urges him to pull you closer, placing a soft kiss to the crown of your head as you lay on his chest. he sighs into your hair, breathing all of you in. it's silent, for the most part, until you ask a question that rattles haechan's being.

"why do you not sing about me?" you ask it so softly that haechan almost misses it.

"what? what are you talking about?" he's genuinely confused as to what you mean. who do you think he sings about?

"i know a handful of your old old songs are about me, but you don't perform those anymore," you murmur into his chest. "ah, don't mind me, i'm just talking."

you sound embarrassed and defeated and haechan wants to cry. did you really not know? how long has he been pushing you away?

"y/n, every single song i write is about you," haechan professes. "i couldn't write about anyone else if i tried."

his words shock you, even if they shouldn't. you tilt your head up to look up at him and he looks down at you with the softest gaze.

"not that i ever would, anyway," he continues, a sad smile painting his face.

"you mean it?" you whisper to him, wanting so badly to believe him.

when haechan's resolve breaks and his eyes glaze over, you know he means it. his hold on you tightens with one hand and the other comes up to caress your cheek, swiping a tear you didn't even know had fallen.

"of course," he croaks. "you're my muse, y/n. you."

this time, you're wiping his tears away as he cries and cries into your palms. you shift the two of you so that he lies in between your legs, arms wrapped around your waist and face buried into your torso, your hands running through his hair. he's apologizing over and over and doesn't say why, but you know why. you regret ever doubting haechan's love for you — even if he was to blame.

but, just as you're certain you love him more than anything, you know that haechan loves you back all the same.

"it's always been you, y/n."

•°. *࿐

and everybody’s shouting out your name

“you look too handsome to be pouting like that, you know,” you tease lightly, approaching haechan to adjust his tie fondly.

he can’t help but smile at you as you do so, his hands easily finding their place around your waist, tugging you close. “if you tell me to stay, i will.”

you sigh and place your hands upon his chest, allowing you to push yourself up to place a soft kiss on his lips. his lips trail after yours once you pull away and he pouts at you again, eyes begging for another kiss but you push him back ever so slightly.

“you can’t miss this, hyuck, you know that. this could be really big for you!” you beam, swiping a bit of your lip gloss off of his lips. “some important people might be there.”

“but you won’t be there,” he whines. “what’s the point?”

you roll your eyes playfully. “you’ll be fine. now go, your manager has been waiting.” haechan sighs and leans down to place one more kiss on your lips.

you pull away before he can get carried away. “go! and put a good word in for me with taeyong, yeah?”

haechan rolls his eyes but smiles at you, pecking you on the cheek as he bids you farewell. “no promises.”

ੈ♡˳

it’s barely been over an hour and haechan wants to leave.

normally he’s able to tolerate these sorts of things — the bright lights, loud music, snobby people all trying to one up each other. he can get by and chat with anyone as if he’s known them for years. typically, events like these breeze by for haechan. why was he hating every second of it?

it’s lee taeyong’s end of year celebration party. of course, as his junior, haechan was invited. he’s grateful that he’s made friends with lots of other artists under his company, otherwise haechan would have been long gone within the first 45 minutes of arriving. but, haechan stays, mostly because he admires taeyong and does, in fact, bring up you and your songs — which, to his surprise, taeyong says he knows you and enjoys your music.

haechan isn’t given the chance to talk more, unfortunately, due to an excited kim jungwoo who locks an arm around haechan’s shoulder and drags him away.

“ow — hyung! i was in the middle of a conversation!” haechan grits to jungwoo, lightly shoving his arm off of him.

“my bad, it looked like you needed saving,” jungwoo chuckles. “come on, everyone’s been looking for you.”

jungwoo leads haechan to a small circle of people to which haechan knows as his small circle of friends: mark, his company's beloved canadian rapper; johnny suh, one of seoul's most popular djs; and of course there's kim jungwoo, kim doyoung, and jeong jaehyun who make up dojaejung, korea's heartthrob boy group.

"yo, where have you been?" mark greets him excitedly, lightly slapping him on the shoulder playfully.

"what do you mean 'where have i been', i saw you yesterday, mark," haechan grumbles.

"woah, someone needs a drink," johnny chuckles. doyoung is quick to hand haechan a glass of champagne.

haechan takes a large gulp, hopefully to ease whatever tension he feels in his shoulders. he's trying to enjoy the party, he really is, but all he wants to do is come home to you.

"everything okay?" doyoung asks him, concerned with the way haechan seems to be downing his drink.

the younger boy sighs. "yeah, i'm fine, sorry. just stressed out."

"oh, your album is coming out soon, right?" jungwoo remembers, nudging haechan with his elbow. "congratulations!"

the rest of the boys congratulate him and haechan can only half-heartedly reply despite being very grateful.

"i'm sure it'll be great," johnny reassures him.

"saw a lot of love songs on that track list," jungwoo teases. "got a special someone?"

haechan stills at his words and he's caught in an argument with himself. does he mention you? does he say no? is this how he wants people to find out you’re together? before he can even reply, though, jaehyun cuts in.

"speaking of, i heard that kim minjeong has had her eye on you for a while, haechan," jaehyun says. he raises his eyebrows at the younger boy and haechan gulps, the rest of his friends nudging him playfully as they coo at him.

"that's the model, right? and singer?" doyoung asks. "you should talk to her!"

haechan feels like he's going to be sick. maybe he's being dramatic — its not like they're shoving him into minjeong's face and asking him to profess his love. still, he feels like he's betraying you in some way and he realizes he has to go home.

"i can talk you up, probably," mark says. "we're normally at the studio at the same time."

“i heard that shin ryujin has been talking about you, too,” johnny pipes in. “honestly, who hasn’t been talking about you? i’m surprised you’ve done nothing about it.”

doyoung hums. “she seems like your type, donghyuck! i know some people over at —“

"no! no, don't — " haechan places his champagne glass onto a nearby table abruptly and sighs shakily. "just...don't. sorry, i-i don't feel well. i should go."

confused and concerned eyes watch haechan as he rushes towards the nearest exit. he doesn't bother saying goodbye to taeyong, but makes a mental note to send him an apologetic note tomorrow. haechan sees kim minjeong catch sight of him, and he's sure she's about to make an attempt to stop him to chat with the way she looks at him with a flirty gaze. haechan is quick to turn in the opposite direction and flees out of the nearest door.

haechan's manager comes out soon behind him, frenzied after trying to catch up to a frantic haechan. he doesn't get the chance to ask the latter if he's okay, too occupied with calling their driver upon haechan's request.

"home," he chokes out. he's out of breath and he feels dizzy — whether its from the champagne or from guilt, he's unsure.

"i want to go home."

•°. *࿐

i'm in the crowd, can you see my hand?

haechan has reached the encore of his final show of his tour, yet he still feels a pressure that he cannot explain.

its not from all of his seniors and friends that attended in support of him, he knows that. it's not from the different producers and music artists that flew to seoul for him, either. its a pressure that weighs on his chest that has made him feel unsatisfied with each stage, despite putting 150% effort in everything.

the crowd is going crazy for him after he delivers his final ment, and he takes a moment to soak in it all, in hopes it would give him some peace of mind.

then, his eyes finally spot you.

you, in the back row of some random section, sitting with your manager, with a banner with his name on it and a headband with bear ears perched on top of your head. he doesn't know if you can tell that he's staring right at you, but you start waving around the banner with excitement. haechan can't help but adore you even more than he already does.

time stops for him as he realizes that you're here. through thick and thin you've always been there — what has haechan ever done for you? he hasn't given you even a sliver of what you deserve, yet you've never left him. you stayed when he was a nobody, and even now when he's been terribly selfish, you let him be.

there are thousands of other hands waving at him, but haechan can only see yours.

"actually," haechan starts, quickly silencing the crowd. "there's one more thing i wanted to say."

from your seat, you feel your heartbeat quicken. haechan is still standing and looking into your direction and you know he sees you.

"there's someone very special to me that's here tonight."

your heart stops as you realize what he's doing and you can't help but glance at your manager in a panic. fans around you are murmuring in confusion since haechan had already given a shoutout to his guests.

"they've been by my side since i was writing silly love songs in my childhood bedroom," haechan says, a fond smile taking over his features. "i wrote those love songs about them then, and i still write every love song about them now."

the gasps and shocked noises at his confession fall upon deaf ears — to you, you and haechan are the only two people in the world.

"some of you may know her — she's an amazing music artist as well. far better than me, in my opinion, but maybe i'm a bit biased." haechan sees you laugh and can't help but chuckle too.

"my girlfriend, y/n, is here tonight, and i couldn't be more grateful. wave, y/n!" haechan calls out to you. surprisingly, the camera cuts to you as you wave shyly, hiding behind your haechan banner. even more surprising, the crowd cheers loudly for you.

"isn't she cute?" haechan asks. he's delighted when he sees and hears the rest of the stadium agree.

haechan finally feels that weight lift from off of his chest and he feels like he can breathe. he's happy — ecstatic, even — now that the world finally knows he's yours.

"y/n, you once asked me what i was afraid of, and i said i didn't know," haechan recalls gently. "but i know now." he purses his lips to prevent himself from choking up.

"you've always been so supportive of everything i've done. you've done so much for me and i'm not sure how i could ever repay you." haechan sucks in a sharp breath. "i'm afraid that i'll never truly deserve you."

the crowd coos and some fans in front of you turn around to look at you. you're a mess: tears are streaming down your face, and your hands are shaking. you hide pathetically behind your banner again as your manager wraps a comforting arm around your shoulder.

"i'm sorry for making you wait." haechan puts a hand over his heart, and you do the same. "i love you."

the camera cuts to you again and haechan glances at the monitor to get a better look at you as you mouth something back. haechan doesn't even attempt to conceal his smile or to hold back his tears. there's no use.

"i love you, too."

•°. *࿐

say what you want, this is true romance

“did you really have to mention that, hyuck?”

your boyfriend settles next to you on the couch, arm draping over your shoulder, as you scroll through his recent interview with vogue korea.

you pout at him and he's unable to stop the smile that takes over his face. he pinches your cheek and you quickly swat his hand away.

"what? what did i say?" he rests his chin on your shoulder to read the article for himself.

"i mean, does the public really have to know about me crying on our first date?" you complained. you continued scrolling and laughed as you read. "in what context would you ever have to tell vogue about our matching crayon shin-chan pajama pants?"

haechan laughs and presses a kiss to your shoulder. "honestly, i don't remember half of what i said during this interview. or any of what they asked me." he tugs you a little closer to him so that you're leaning against him, laying the two of you down. "all i know is that i'm pretty sure i started talking about you so much that they just called it a day."

"you're that obsessed with me, huh?" you teased.

haechan scoffs, wrapping both of his arms around you tightly. "obviously."

he watches you open instagram and sees you check the likes on your new post. he gasps dramatically, loosening one arm around you to snatch his phone from his pocket. "you posted?! where was my post notification?" he whines cutely.

he's a little too quick to find your account and he then quadruple clicks the picture to give it a like. "babe, why are your comments off? i was about to get really out of pocket," haechan whines again.

"okay, first, don't do that, please. save some of your dignity," you scold him. "but its because people are mean," you admit softly.

haechan's eyebrows furrow together and his tone stiffens. "who? what did they say?"

you sigh. "no one specific, don't worry. some people are just not too keen about us. your predictions were right, i guess," you attempt to joke, but it only makes haechan upset.

"here, come here," haechan beckons you up with him as he sits up. you're still under one of his arms, which he locks around your neck as he tugs you into his side. you're caught off guard, but lean into him anyway, arms wrapped around his torso. haechan lifts his phone up and takes selfies of the two of you, cheeks pressed together as you both smile uncontrollably.

you're both giggling like two high schoolers fresh into a relationship and you've never felt more happy and in love in your life. haechan presses wet kisses against your cheek before you eventually push his face away. still, he steals one more kiss from you — this time on your lips — and you let him.

"okay, i'm posting all of these," haechan declares casually, leaning back against the couch.

your eyes widen and you reach for his phone in an attempt to stop him, but haechan has already dodged you and raised his hand up. "hyuck, don't."

"why not? i'm in love with you, people just have to deal with it," he shrugs. "anyone who has a problem with us can get blocked."

you fall onto haechan's chest and he gladly wraps you up in his arms again. "you're stupid, but i love you."

"good, because i just posted it."

you peer up at haechan's phone and you see that he was true to his word. all of the selfies you just took piled into one singular post to which haechan captioned 'my heart'. you watch as he scrolls through the comments and blocks anyone with anything bad to say.

"wow, you weren't kidding," you say, amused.

"'course not. these people need to learn true romance." he leans down to kiss you one more time, this time letting the kiss linger. he pulls away but rests his forehead against yours, staring at you with eyes full of love. "i love you, too, by the way."

ੈ♡˳

haechan is popular — without a doubt, he's one of the most sought after guys in the industry. he's confident, charismatic, and he's bright. he's everyone's dream guy, it's no secret.

but, above all, he's yours, and you're his as well. he has devoted his heart and life to you and its not a secret to anyone anymore.

this time around, haechan wraps you up in his scarf to protect you from the cold before the two of you leave.

"i already have a scarf on, hyuck, just keep yours," you mumble from underneath the thick fabric.

haechan doesn't hear you (not just because he literally can't) because he's too focused on zipping up your jacket and tugging your beanie over your ears.

"okay," he says as he intertwines a hand in yours. he clutches the bouquet you made for him proudly in his other arm while he carries your bag and his own over his shoulder. "let's go home!"

its bittersweet as you realize how familiar yet different the situation is. you clutch haechan's hand tighter as he tugs you towards the backstage exit door, outside where the press and his fans are waiting.

he doesn't hide you anymore. no, instead haechan shows you off proudly and wholeheartedly as if it was what he was meant to do.

[bthump]

What do you think would happen if Griffith not only won the fight, but if the eventuality of his sword straying off the mark and killing Guts, that Griffith considers (and accepts...) before the fight, actually came true? could this be enough to trigger all the events of the Eclipse or do you think he could pick himself up from killing Guts more easily than from being abandoned by him and instead of following the exact same pattern as when Guts leaves, simply become more determined (and more ruthless than ever) to achieve his dream? bonus question: where would Casca be in all this? would she be able to stay by Griffith's side had Guts been killed by him and with seemingly no remorse?

question 2 (im almost done, i promise <3) - had Griffith won without killing Guts (provided Guts didnt try to leave anyway or at least wouldnt manage to sneak out again, since Griffith would probably keep him on a leash afterwards lol), do you think their relationship could still be salvaged or would there be no way for Griffith to forgive him for ever wanting to leave (and no way for Guts to forgive Griffith for forcing him to stay)?

huge fan of all your meta posts, you simply get it, you just get it, and ive been rotating that duel scene and all its possible outcomes in my head to the point of losing my goddamn mind, so. there it is. hope you have a good day!

Thank you! Hope you also have a good day <3 Sorry this took a while to answer, I've been sleepy recently thanks to schedule changes.

What I generally think is that Griffith killing Guts in that duel wouldn't be a behelit-opening event itself, because I feel like there's a reason Griffith had to go through the torture for a year. I definitely think it could also lead to him sleeping with Charlotte and getting caught though, and it would be just as if not more devastating than Guts just leaving, because now Griffith believes that Guts wanted to leave him out of disgust/hatred/resentment/whatever, AND also he just proved him right in the worst way possible.

What I personally envision happening in this scenario is that Griffith gets cold and distant and wraps himself up in his dream to the point of losing all genuine connection with others. He'd also double down on the seeing himself as a monster thing and embody that even more, doing worse and worse things to achieve his goals. Basically becoming Femto and NeoGriffith in spirit, if not literally.

I see this because imo within the griffguts dynamic, Guts basically embodies Griffith's potential to give up his dream and all its associated negative shit like guilt and self loathing, and be emotionally fulfilled without being obsessed with a distant goal. So if Griffith kills him, thematically he's destroying all hope of growing as a person and he can only regress into all his worst traits from there.

As for Casca... this isn't based on any kind of analysis lol, but I think she'd stay for a while and maybe try to draw Griffith's humanity out, but maybe she would leave eventually, falling out of love with Griffith and understanding that even their friendship is over, and wanting distance from him. I don't think she'd hate him for killing Guts, since they're all mercenaries, but I think it would change how she sees him for the worse.

I'd like if she stayed because she has her own emotional investment in the realization of Griffith's dream, or at least her life as a soon to be knighted captain of an army, but unfortunately canonically she is only there because of her feelings for Griffith lol. If I was writing it as a fic though she'd stay because she's got a great life going in Midland, but she'd drift away from Griffith and fall for someone else.

Wrt your second question, I definitely think their relationship could be salvaged, and honestly imo it's a great jumping off point for canon divergence fic. There's drama, there's angst, but there's still potential for a happily ever after. They'd both assume the other hates him, they'd be polite and strained and awkward and only interact professionally, but eventually something could give and they'd realize that they've been in love with each other the entire goddamn time lol. Like if Griffith nearly died for Guts again, eg.

Thanks for the fun questions!

[kenny-the-ken]

Y O U + M E

Part 2

ALL CHARACTERS AGED UP!! Alludes to talking, breaking in and NFSW content!!

Mysterion was a super hero, used for good, protecting others from the darkness that roamed the streets. And sometimes Mysterion had to use his power to his advantage.

He stood atop a thick branch on the tree outside of your bedroom window, and he sat at a far enough distance that you wouldn't spot him. It was winter in South Park, the streets desolated, and darkness sprung around 4pm, so he wasn't too worried about getting caught.

Since you had just moved your family had no curtains or blinds in your home yet, and considering you had said your mother was back on drugs, Kenny figured you'd probably never have them, much like himself. His mind was racing, as if he was speaking much to himself internally.

That was when he heard the front door slam, and he watched as you started walking down the street. It was close to your meeting time, you were getting snacks, he would have to be quick, but he could take a quick little peek. Right?

Mysterion made his way to your window sill, lifting the slatted windows quietly, and climbing through your bedroom window.

Panties, both clean and used, makeup and clothes were strewn about your room, and boy was he glad he seen this before you tidied up, because now he could bring himself home a little souvenir to remember you by, like he could ever forget.

He wasn't normally like this, he was a good guy, really! Kind, caring, the bestest friend someone could ask for, he was loyal and honest, but his childhood had seriously fucked him up. He was so starved of physical, mental and emotional attention and nurture that he became obsessive of those who he held near to his heart, and you had the largest piece of his heart, so by god was he going to let you slip away. If he couldn't have you... no one could.

Picking up a pair of your used panties, hopefully not a pair you would miss, and anyways, they were in safe, loving hands. Looking around he seen pictures on your wall of you and your friends from back home, you were just as beautiful then as you were now. He noticed your journal sitting atop your dresser, as he made his way over, flicking to today, hoping to find something about himself.

Today was great! I made lots of new friends, mum still isn't back, but she should be fine, she is back in her home town after all, she's probably catching up with some friends. The cute guy I mentioned before, Kenny, he's coming over to work on our project tonight, hopefully we get on well, who knows where it may go?

Cute? So he did catch your eye after all! Fuck, it's 6:45 and he heard the front door opening as he quickly made his get away, climbing back down the tree and heading back to his home to get changed and come back, just in time for 7pm!

You stood, nervously twiddling your thumbs, you wore an oversized hoodie and a pair of pyjama shorts, your hair in a ponytail and that was it, you wanted to see if he liked you that way too. And this outfit would get the perfect response.

You heard a knock on your door as you jumped from the sofa, and answering, maybe a bit too quickly, but whatever.

And there you were, fuck was he drooling already? Even in the comfiest and biggest of clothes you still looked sexy! Your legs were perfect as he studied every little detail about you, following you into your home. You didn't know that he'd been here not that long ago, but what you didn't know wouldn't hurt you, and besides, he was just making sure you safe.

You both got to work on the English project you were assigned and Kenny couldn't take anymore, seeing the plush skin of your thighs, the little moans you made in frustration at your work, and he knew you dressed like this all for him, so he finally made his move.

"I was thinking that in this piece they were referring to-" you were cut off, as Kenny placed his hand on your bare thigh, squeezing it as you gasped and Kenny knew there and then that you were pure putty in his very skilful hands.

He leaned over, your foreheads resting against one another as you both made intense eye contact, and you made the move, the biggest mistake you'd ever made, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him to kiss you, and he deepened the kiss by biting your bottom lip and snaking his tongue into your mouth, you felt dizzy, was this real?!

Kenny had you soaked through your panties in no time, and he roughly pulled your hoodie from your body, pausing to take you in. You only wore your pyjama shorts and panties now, nearly your whole body exposed. He knew you were kinky, and he knew his eyes weren't deceiving him when he thought your nipples were pierced, they were, and his mouth was straight on them, being gentle not to hurt you or tear out the piercings. The taste of your floral body lotion and metal on his tongue, and he wanted more, you were more addictive than heroin, and god kenny was hooked from one look at you.

You watched as he hovered over you, taking his shirt off his body, and pulling down his black jeans, your heart beat quickening, and he closed the space once more, leaving a trail of purple bruises down the front of your throat, between your tits and now on your thighs, as he pulled your shorts and panties off your body in one quick motion, licking his lips before finally, he tasted you, and god it was like nothing he'd ever tasted before, sweet yet salty, and he wanted more, he'd give you head everyday if you wanted, and he was good with his mouth, your back arched and hands tangled in his hair, moans for him escaping your mouth.

"So shameless for me, aren't you? We were supposed to be working on a project together and now look, here you are, your pussy throbbing for my cock, what a little slut you really are y/n." Kenny said, not even bothering to prep you or put on a condom before pulling his boxers down and lining his rather large cock up with your hole.

"I- I'll be your slut forever, Kenny, please." You pleaded, and Kenny groaned, pushing the tip of his cock inside your tight, wet heat. Your eyes widened, a moan escaping your parted lips.

"You don't know how long I've longed to be inside you." Kenny whispered in your ear, pushing himself in to the hilt, a dark smirk on his face.

"I'm gonna make sure you can't walk tomorrow." Kenny spoke, his hips snapping back and forth roughly fucking himself into you, one of his hands coming down to massage your clit in time with his thrusts, and you were shameless, your moans filling the bedroom, and the louder you got, the more Kenny's ego grew.

"That's it, baby. So good at taking my cock." He praised, his pace not letting up. He lifted both of your legs and threw them over your shoulders, driving himself deeper inside you, and you swore you were in heaven.

"Oh god, Kenny. I- I'm getting close." You moaned out, and he rolled his hips, creating a different feeling in your pussy as his cock moved in and out of you.

"That's it, cum for me, show me how good my cock makes you feel." Kenny whispered, his own moans and groans growing by the second as his cock began to twitch.

Your orgasm hit you like a tonne of bricks, your vision going white as your back arched underneath him, and you screamed his name, your moans never ending as your cunt spasmed around Kenny's hard cock, which made him finally cum streaks of white cum deep inside you, and he stayed inside you, both of you panting and staring into each others eyes.

He finally pulled out of you, laying down beside you, pulling you into his chest, your breathing still laboured.

"I-I had no idea you felt like this about me." You replied, gazing up at your crush, you'd had feelings for Kenny for as long as you could remember.

"I'd be crazy not to, you're the most gorgeous girl I've ever laid eyes on." Kenny spoke softly, and he meant every word he said, his hand tracing small circles on your back.

"I've wanted this from the moment I laid eyes on you." You spoke, and Kenny smiled.

"Me too." That was all he needed to hear, the conformation that you did indeed have feelings for him, now came phase two.

"Do you maybe fancy going on a date with me? Rather than just being fuck buddies?" Kenny asked, laughing slightly, his cheeks flushing a light shade of pink, and you nodded in response.

"I'd love to, Ken." You replied, placing a gentle kiss on his lips.

He'd done it. He had you, you would be his, but now came the hard part, protecting you, and there wasn't any length Kenny wouldn't go to in order to keep you safe.

[blankwashed]

(Listen to this song, I think its pretty much this entire story)

(Gojo x Outcast Reader)

(warnings: the scenario takes place at a club, alcohol usage, slightly 18+ innuendos, other than that nothing is rated here)

“Yo, look at that chick! That’s a real fat ass!” someone hollered at you from the side of the club. You grimaced at the crudeness but remained silent, stuck in your own thoughts. You were only here because it was your friend's birthday celebration.

‘Who even has club birthdays?’ you thought to yourself, feeling out of place.

Attractive but often hidden behind clothes your mom picked, you knew you weren’t fitting in. At 25, you were still babied by your mother, her only daughter. Shopping trips were always accompanied by her, vetoing anything too revealing or not to her taste.

Your secret outings with friends to buy your own clothes led to a wardrobe that was a chaotic mix of 80s throwbacks and modern pieces. This disjointed style often made you the target of mockery, which only added to your shyness and seclusion.

It wasn’t surprising that you only had a few friends in school. They weren’t from the nerdy group or the popular group; they were more of the outcast group. It had always been like this, so you had gotten used to it. You had bigger dreams than to shine in school.

In the club, the booming music gave you a headache. It was definitely not your scene. A calm tea party would suit you more. Not to mention the "dress code" your friend insisted every attendee follow.

You were wearing a skimpy red dress, borrowed from your friend just for the night. The dress was a couple of sizes smaller than your usual, accentuating your curves in a way you found uncomfortable. You tugged at the hem, wishing you could melt into the shadows. This night was a stark contrast to your usual, modest attire, and you felt exposed and out of place.

"Miki..." you tapped on your even skimpier-dressed friend's shoulder.

"I feel so... looked at. This is getting really awkward for me. I'm just going to sit down in the booth, okay?" you told her.

She was too busy bobbing her head to the music, not listening to anything you just said.

Shaking your head, you went to sit down anyway. The booth offered a bit of refuge from the intensity of the club. You sank into the seat, hoping to find some semblance of comfort in the chaotic environment.

You tried to close your eyes and sink into the chair, drowning your mind in whatever rap or EDM was playing.

Out of nowhere, you felt a hand touch your shoulder. Ugh, another pervert?

Opening your eyes, you saw a man so stunning he seemed as if he came from a dream. His hair was as white as snow, his eyes as blue as the ocean, and it was clear he wasn't a poor man. Wearing a Versace shirt and Gucci sneakers, you felt the club you were in felt too cheap for someone like him.

‘Aw, it sucks that this guy is a pervert as well…’ you thought, turning the other way to ignore his touch.

"Hello, I didn’t mean to disturb you," he started to speak. His voice was velvety and smooth, cutting through the noise from the speakers effortlessly.

You didn't really know how to respond, always shying away from males ever since they bullied you as a child.

"I don’t bite, trust me... all of this," he said, gesturing to his attire, "is mainly because I’m here for my friend’s bachelor party. Yeah, trust me, I don't want to be here either," he chuckled, his white eyebrows forming a crescent.

His disarming honesty and warm smile made you feel slightly more at ease. Maybe this encounter wouldn't be so bad after all.

"Mind if I sit beside you? If you mind, I can sit a little further—"

"It's okay, you can sit beside me," you daringly said.

Was it the alcohol in you that spoke?

He smiled, sitting on the stool beside you.

"Let's start over again," he said, raising his hand for you to shake.

At that moment, you had so many questions for the kind stranger. Why was his hair white? Why were his eyes blue? Why did his hands have so many scars?

But all you did was shake his hand. "My name is y/n, and yours?"

"Gojo, Satoru Gojo."

You noticed how handsome he was while he smiled, making your heart beat faster, racing at 80 miles an hour.

"You don’t have to be that nervous, y/n. I really won’t bite. Clubs aren’t my kind of thing either. I’m more into... physical combat," he ended his sentence, worried that you might misunderstand him.

"Physical combat? Wait, are you from a gang or something?" you started to get nervous, wondering if you were having a conversation with an actual gang member.

"No, no!" he stood up to deny your accusation. "Nothing like that. I'm actually one of the good people, keeping Tokyo safe from cursed spirits. I’m sure you’ve heard of them, right?"

You sighed in relief, realizing he wasn't a bad guy according to what he was saying.

"Oh, so you’re a sorcerer that does Jujutsu, am I right?" you spoke with interest, eager to find out more about this guy who claimed to be a good guy.

He nods.

If you remembered correctly, you’d only read and listened to stories about the Jujutsu sorcerers; you’d never thought you would meet one face to face.

"Must be an interesting job, kind of life-threatening as well," you said, unknowingly gravitating towards him. It was definitely the alcohol that was making you do all of this.

He didn’t move away; all he did was smirk. You didn’t know what got into you. Definitely the alcohol, and also the fact that he wasn’t retreating from you! And... he smelled so good, so musky, so homely, so...

"Want to head over to my place, y/n? I’m pretty sure you’re drunk," he whispered softly into your ear.

All you could do was nod. You were definitely feeling tired, and it was way past your bedtime anyway.

You followed him out of the club, your head swimming with a mixture of alcohol-induced dizziness and excitement. This night was turning out to be much more eventful than you had ever anticipated.

As you and Satoru were heading out of the club, you heard a black-haired guy holler at him, "Woo! You’ve got one!" while clinging onto his other blonde hair friend's arm who looked annoyed at him.

You heard him but were too drunk to even respond or have the mental capacity to react. You were already clinging onto Satoru's muscular, bulky arm. How worse could it get?

Satoru just chuckled in response, steering you gently towards the exit, shielding you from any further attention. You were grateful for his calm demeanor, feeling a sense of safety in his presence as you stumbled along, your mind foggy and your senses dulled by the alcohol.

The two of you walked to his car, a Bentley.

"Wow, you’ve really got all the expensive stuff, huh?" you said, still clinging onto his arm when you sat in his car.

"I try," he replied with a hint of amusement in his voice as he started the engine and began the journey to his place. The comfort of the luxurious car and the warmth of his presence lulled you into a sense of relaxation despite your intoxication.

"W-where are we going... Toru-ssi..." you mumbled while he drove.

"My place. You'll at least have a place to rest your head," he said gently, patting your head and making you smile despite your foggy mind.

His kindness and reassurance eased your worries, and you leaned back in the seat, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. In his company, even in your intoxicated state, you felt strangely at peace, trusting him to take care of you for the night.

"Maybe tomorrow you can tell me where you live and I can send you home or…" he mumbled to himself, the end of his sentence was inaudible as you fell asleep.

You slowly blinked your eyes open, wincing at the light filtering through the curtains. Your head throbbed painfully, and you groaned as you attempted to sit up in the soft unfamiliar bed. Memories from the night before were hazy, obscured by the fog of alcohol and the passage of time.

Glancing around the room, you realized you were in a lavish-looking bedroom, the décor elegant and refined. The sight made your headache pound even harder as you tried to piece together how you ended up here.

Beside you on the bedside table sat a steaming cup of tea and an array of snacks. The smell of the tea wafted towards you, comforting in its warmth. With trembling hands, you reached for the cup, grateful for the soothing liquid.

As you sipped the tea, you racked your brain, trying to recall the events of the previous night. But it was like trying to grasp at wisps of smoke, the memories slipping through your fingers. What happened to your friends?

With a sigh, you resigned yourself to the fact that some things were better left unknown. You focused instead on the present moment, allowing the tea to calm your nerves and the snacks to satiate your hunger.

Despite the lingering ache in your head, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude towards whoever had taken care of you. You may not remember how you ended up here, but for now, you were content to enjoy the small comforts of the morning and the mysteries of the night before.

"What... what happened..." you spoke softly to yourself, the events of the previous night still a blur in your mind.

"Morning, y/n," As if it was on call, Satoru entered the room as he heard some rustling sounds.

"Well, afternoon, I guess. You slept through the whole entire morning. Haven't really gone out drinking that often, huh?" he said, walking closer to you.

He was honestly ravishing, you thought, dressed only in a white t-shirt and black slacks.

You blinked up at him, trying to piece together the fragments of your memories. His presence was both comforting and disorienting, leaving you unsure of what to say or do next.

“Did…..you….” it was still confusing to your foggy brain.

"I... I guess not... Oh, did I do anything embarrassing last night?" you buried your face in the comfort of his fluffy sheets, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and curiosity.

Satoru chuckled, shaking his head again, his white strands moving with the motion.

"No," he reassured you with a warm smile, sitting down beside you on the bed.

Relief flooded through you at his words, grateful that you hadn't made a fool of yourself in front of him. You couldn't help but admire how effortlessly charming he seemed, even in the soft morning light filtering through the windows.

You smelled yourself and noticed that you were in different clothing and didn’t smell rancid. Embarrassed, you clutched the blanket tighter and tried not to look into his eyes again.

He chuckled again. “My female maids cleaned you up. Trust me, as much as I wanted to take a peek, they didn’t let me,” he said, winking.

Your face flushed with embarrassment, but you also felt a sense of relief. “Thank you... for taking care of me,” you mumbled, still avoiding his gaze. Maybe you did want him to see you nake- wait what?

Woah woah, hold your horses y/n. You just met him yesterday. But you could feel he was different, a genuine feel. An attraction that was unexplainable, a feeling you’ve never felt towards any male you’ve ever met.

“No problem, Y/N. Just make sure you eat something and rest a bit more. You had quite a night,” he said, gesturing to the snacks and tea beside you. His kindness and humor made you feel slightly more at ease despite the awkward situation.

Looking around the room once again before back at Satoru, “All of this... you’re really rich, huh? I mean, I can’t remember everything that went down the day before, but I wasn’t expecting this. Why don’t you have a girlfriend sleeping on this luxurious bed?” you questioned the snowy-haired man.

Satoru raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “Who says I don’t have one?” he teased, but then his expression softened. “In truth, my lifestyle doesn’t leave much room for relationships. It’s hard to find someone who can understand and handle what I do.”

You nodded, trying to wrap your mind around the complexity of his life. “Must be lonely sometimes,” you said softly.

“Sometimes,” he admitted, his blue eyes briefly clouding with a hint of sadness. “But I’ve got good friends and a purpose that keeps me going. That’s enough for now.”

You nodded, understanding his situation on a personal level. No one was your suitor but, you could understand the feeling. “I’m glad you consider me a friend,” you quirked, a smile forming on your lips. “I think my life is going to get real interesting with you in it, so I guess going to the club wasn’t that bad after all.”

Satoru laughed, the sound light and infectious. “I’m glad you think so. And don’t worry, I’ll make sure any adventures we have are memorable—in a good way.”

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, a sense of excitement about what the future might hold. Despite the headache and the disorientation, you couldn’t help but feel that meeting Satoru was a twist of fate you were ready to embrace.

Your stomach gurgled, possibly due to the alcohol you had the night before.

“Oops, sorry. I’m never going clubbing ever again,” you said shyly.

“It’s alright. Hey, you’ve got it better than me. I can’t even take a single drop of alcohol,” Satoru said.

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, it messes with my system so bad, I’d start seeing things that aren’t even there!”

“Satoru-ssi, that’s pretty much everyone’s reaction to alcohol,” you laughed.

He laughed along with you, his eyes crinkling with amusement. He started to explain about how there is no way that he could drink due to his line of work.

This new friendship with a guy from the club was already proving to be unexpectedly delightful. You had a feeling it was going to be a good one.

(end of story)

I really miss drinking and clubbing :( all the university classes have me gone mad.

[gaslysainz]

Lost (PG10) pt4

Summary: The world is utterly unfair. He was her most prized possession, her life, her first ever commitment of love. But to him, she was just a mere person lost in his big world.

warnings: ; unrequited feelings; Pierre is a douche , arrange marriage, angst, explicit scenes and languages.

Author's Note~ Heya guys! I present to you the 4th part of my fanfic. I'm overwhelmed by the response ❤️ Really Thanks a lot to everyone who had liked the story so far. Something's have started to cook. Hope you look forward to it. Love You All 😘 Here's my first ever story for you guys. As soon as I finish this one, I'll start taking requests maybe! Till then please show your love and support for "LOST".

This one's a filler chapter, so please bear with me.

Something completely different happened today. A knock at my door woke me up from my 1 hour nap which has unfortunately turned into a 3 hour nap. I stood up from the bed and opened the door only to find my husband standing there and running a hand through his curls. Oh! What a sight! He looks like a Greek God.

"Hey! Did you need something? I'm sorry I fell asleep, also you can come inside"

He thanked me and entered my room, this is completely new. But nonetheless, I had to take a chance. He was looking around the room and the pictures hanging on the walls. His eyes stuck to one picture in particular. A picture captured by Pierre's mom of Isaac, Pierre and myself. It was Halloween and Isaac wanted to be a Vampire and on the other hand Pierre and Me were Romeo and Juliet. He was 6 and I was 4! We did not even know who Romeo and Juliet were! It was because of the elders who had insisted on these costumes! Oh! What I'd give to have those days back.

"You need something?"

"Ah! No, um actually yes, I have to attend an event with the rest of grid tomorrow. And you have to come with me. So be ready by 7pm tomorrow, will you? Wear something nice. I'll send someone with dresses for you to choose today in the evening. Just pick something from there."

There it is! Like I've mentioned before, he only remembers me when he needs something or needs to go somewhere to show off the world our so called amazing married life. *Scoff* But I'm not mad, at least I'll be able to meet HIM after so many days. The only person who happens to care even a little bit for me. Who always greets me with a beautiful smile on his face. A friend? Nope, he's like an angel for me.

I really hope everyone gets a friend like him!

" *Cough* *cough* You there?"

" Oh yea! I'm sorry, I was a bit distracted. Umm, Why don't you take Julia with you? I'm sure she would love to accompany you and also I'm sure she has several dresses in her wardrobe already. Won't even have to buy a dress last minute"

The look Pierre gave me after I mentioned Julia simply yelled 'ARE YOU CRAZY'. I mean I knew why he wouldn't take Julia, but I just find a different kind of satisfaction by reminding it to him.

"Um, I'll be ready tomorrow. Don't worry. By the way, where's Julia?"

"I sent her home, no need for her to stay here for these two days, either way we'd be busy. It'll only distract us."

Oh well! That was odd! Distract us from what exactly? Sometimes this man leaves no tables unturned to confuse me to no end. Anyways. I know better now than to crack my brain over these things. It's actually useless cause I won't get anymore clear answers from him than this.

"Any specific colour that I need to keep in mind while choosing the dress?"

"Not that I'm aware of, just keep it a bit formal. I'll get going. If Julia calls or comes asking for me, just tell her I've been out for a meeting since morning."

And then he rushed out the door, not before checking our childhood photo once again. Okay! That was highly confusing! I mean why was he avoiding Julia? Or am I reading too much between the lines? No one knows. I better go eat something until then.

But still, I'm a bit lost here.

LOST in confusion.

PS - Please lemme know what do you think about LOST and also let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list ❤️

@peachiicherries @crimeshowjunkie @oblomovissad @torossosebs @janeholt3

[missacidburn928s-heathenhideaway]

The Perks Of Being A Fiend

Alpha!Jax Teller x Omega!POC!Reader "LuLu"

Summary:

Alpha!Jax Teller x Omega!POC!Reader "LuLu" There's no in-between, we only do extremes. He can get on my LAST nerve, but honestly, I wouldn't have it any other way.

Warnings:

Smut, Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Jax Teller, Accidental Voyeurism, Oral Sex, Sex, Rough Sex, Marriage, Pregnancy

Notes:

Hello Heathens! This is my first Jax fic although I'm a massive SOA fan. So be kind. (This was my first Jax fic 😊) Happy Reading!

Banner by @cafekitsune Divider by @firefly-graphics

5 Missed Calls from JT 🐺

🌖Little Moon🌔 : I'm working Jackson. Why on earth are you blowing up my phone? JT 🐺 : I'm Sorry  LM: Okay JT: Just okay? That's it? LM: What do you want a medal or something for doing the bare minimum when you did wrong?  JT: C'mon dont be like that darlin'.  LM: Don't. I know you're bored at the club house. So what is it you really want? What are you trying to sweet talk me into? JT: Just wanted to see my pretty Omega and since I'm stuck here I thought a picture or two might tide me over.  LM: Seriously?  JT: You know I’m serious. LM: Find some Beta crow eater to feed your need to see flesh. You’ve always been good at that. JT: That won’t satisfy the craving. I’m fiending for you. Always you. LM: I don't have time for this. JT: Just one picture. Take a bathroom break.  JT: Where did you go? JT: I just want to see my Omega. Please, darlin’. I’ll do that thing with my tongue later. LM:  

Now leave me be. And you would have done that thing with your tongue anyway. I set up the couch for you tonight if you decide to come home. 

JT: Damn. It’s like that? LM: It’s like that. Balls in your court Teller. I’m not the one needing to earn forgiveness.

“I know that face.” Opie said with a smirk. “Someone is in the doghouse again. What’d you do this time?”

“Terra stopped by the house this morning to thank me for helping her with her flat tire last night.” He mumbles out as he lights up a cigarette.

“And?” Opie asks.

“And I may not have told Lulu about it when I got home late because of it.” He exhales a breath of smoke.

“Ooh.” Op winces. “That was a really dumb move man.” He shakes his head. “She’s the chillest woman you’ve ever been with it. But that only works when you don’t blindside her. Tara knew what she was doing showing up this morning like that. What’d Lu do?”

“She’s the one that opened the door and let her in when she asked for me with damn coffee and donuts in her hand.” He stomps out his cigarette. “She stayed calm and went about her normal morning routine while Tara thanked me and I escorted her out.”

“She was calm?”

“Yup.” 

“Fuck man. What happened when the door closed?”

“She sat at the table with her coffee and grabbed a donut. She then told me ‘Such a gentleman and a baddass. Lucky me to have snagged such an Alpha. If only he knew to keep me up to date on happenings with his crazy exes.’ Gave me a kiss and then rushed off to get ready for the day.”

“Why the fuck are you here then?” Opie Inquires.

“She’s working. Told me the couch is ready for me tonight if I come home.”

“Damn I do not wish I were you right now. You have some groveling to do Prez.”

“Don’t I know it. Thankfully I know just how to diffuse her.”

You're getting ready to leave work and head home when your besties number shows up on your phone. You pick up and before you can even say hello she's going a mile a minute. 

"You're still coming tonight. No excuses. Dress hot as shit too. Get Jax back for that Tara bullshit. I know for a fact that Ari is in town."

“Hello to you too Diamond.” You finally get out as you climb into your Chevelle. “I wasn’t going to bail on you tonight. I just wanted something low key but if you have a plan in mind I’m all for it. You know petty is my love language.”

“I’m thinking, O’ Sheas.” 

“We always go to O’ Sheas.”

“Duh. But tonight Ari will be there. I’m sure he’ll be looking for an Omega to get lost in.” She remarks. “He is the idiot that let you get away. If he spots you I’m sure he’ll be begging for another piece.”

“I know you didn't forget that Jax is in fact my Alpha.”

“Of course I didn’t.” She replies. “I’m just saying give the Prez a taste of his own medicine. You don’t have to sleep with him. Just be your charming self is all.”

“I’m only agreeing to go because a drink is just what I need to forget this day.” You say as you pull into your driveway. “I’m not entertaining this Ari nonsense. If he’s there, then he’s there. I’m just looking to get inebriated enough to just knock straight out when I get home. Lord knows I sleep like shit when I’m alone.”

“Jax not coming home tonight?”

“More like I relegated him to the couch.”

“Understandable. I’ll let you get ready. Pick you up in like an hour or so.”

“Sounds good.”

You’re leaning over your built-in vanity, applying highlighter to your cheeks, clad in an olive green lingerie set, your favorite thigh high knit stockings keeping you warm, singing along to Mary J Blige. “My whole world’s, Up. Side. Dooooown.” Your hips sway to the beat as you really get into the song. You glance up into the mirror and spot Jax leaning against the door frame, just admiring the view.

“Singing ‘bout me, little moon?” He husks out.

“I plead the fifth.” You deadpan, turning your eyes back to your reflection.

He steps up behind you, ghosting his fingers along your exposed skin. “Got plans tonight, Omega?” He whispers into your ear.

You swallow but attempt to hold your ground. “Just hitting O’ Sheas with Diamond. Nothing special.” You shrug.

“Hmm.” He takes a step back. “I better get to it then.”

“Get to what?” You turn on your heel towards him as he cages you in.

"These panties have got to go.” He tugs on the waistband against your hip. “Hold on to the counter and lift your ass up for me." You instinctively follow his command. 

Not wasting a second Jax practically rips the fabric from your skin. “Much better.” 

He sinks down to his knees so that his handsome face and your glistening folds are level with each other. Eyes hooded, pupils dilated, he scents your arousal in the air, licking his lips. “Fuck. Look at you Omega. Perfect little pussy leaking all this slick for me.” He licks a stripe up your folds to your swollen clit, moaning in delight at the sweetness flowing onto his tongue. “God, I missed the taste of you on my tongue.”

"It hasn't even been a day since your last meal." You whimper out. 

"Too long. Plus I have an apology to make." He growls out. 

You find yourself threading your fingers through his golden locks for balance as he begins to really go to town. Feasting on you as if he’ll perish if he does not consume every ounce of you. He sinks two fingers into your center. You can’t help but grind against his face, fucking yourself with his fingers. He curls them just so, hitting that sweet spongy spot that has you seeing stars. Eliciting a long guttural moan as your sweet nectar spills, making quite the mess all over the lower half of his face.

You release his hair as he lifts his face from between your thighs, lips shining and beard covered in your juices, looking like the cat that got the cream. You wanted to allow your anger to persist, but the endorphin high with an oxytocin chaser that you just experienced is wavering your resolve. 

You place your palms on his cheeks, pulling him up to grace him with a deep kiss, enjoying the taste of yourself on his tongue. “Get up Alpha.” You speak against his lips. 

Once he is standing between your open thighs you undo his belt and zipper. You reach in, wrapping your hand around his base, giving him a slow pump, granting you a low groan, before pulling out his beautifully thick cock.  

"Turn around ‘mega. Hands on the sink. Eyes on me in the mirror. I want you to watch me ruin you baby." You turn around, taking your time placing your hands on the counter. He smacks your ass once, in warning. 

You push your hips back as you lean forward. This is when he chooses to tease you, rubbing his dick up and down your soaked folds. Tapping his head against your clit several times before sinking in slowly until his tip kisses your cervix, giving you a moment to adjust to his size stretching you out. 

Feeling full of your Alpha you subconsciously begin to undulate your hips, looking for friction, as you lock eyes with him in the mirror. "Alpha, please. Fuck me. I don't think I can stand this much longer. Feels too good when you're so deep inside me." 

He growls at your plea, fisting your hair and pulling. Forcing you to arch you back further to keep your eyes locked in the mirror. 

He pulls back, slamming in as he begins a punishing pace, fucking you hard and deep. His balls slap against your swollen clit with every thrust making you see spots from the pure ecstasy of it all. Your staring into the mirror, watching his face as he grunts, swears and groans while he fucks all the tension and anger from you from behind. 

You watch as he throws his head back, letting out a growl you can feel vibrate against your skin. "Fuck Omega, your pussy is just so damn tight. Feel so good wrapped around my dick. Ready to cum for me again? I need to feel ya squeezin’ me, trying to pop my knot and milk me dry."

"Yes.” You whimper out. “Please, Alpha. I’m close. So, so close." You’re uncaring of how needy you sound at the moment. The man really had a knack for turning you into a hormonal mess whenever he felt the need.

Your plea’s add fuel to his need to consume you, driving him to fuck you even harder. You know you'll most likely be sporting bruises on your hips from the counter, but you’ll deal with that fun little reminder later. Hand still wrapped up in your hair, his grip tightens, the pleasured pain sending you head first over the edge into the bliss of another orgasm. 

"Don't close your eyes, ‘mega. Look at yourself.” He grits out. “See how gorgeous you look when you come undone for me." You let out a primal wailing moan as your pussy clamps down on his cock and your legs begin to shake. He smacks your ass with his free hand before taking hold of your hip, continuing to fuck you as you ride the waves of your orgasm.

When your walls stop their rhythmic suffocation of his cock, he slows down, taking his time to fuck you nice and deep. Hitting all your sweet spots. Cresting into the zone of overstimulation you begin to squirm against him again. 

He watches, as his cock sinks in and out of your swollen and dripping folds. Hypnotized by how well you take his dick and still remain so goddamn tight. His hips instinctively pick up the pace, once again. "I'm close, Omega. Gonna fill ya up so good, you’ll still be leaking for days" He grunts out, accompanied by harsh thrusts.

"FUCK!” You shout. “Yes. Please, yes. Want all of you Alpha." Is all you can manage to mumble out as you arch your back deeper, preparing to take his seed deep into your womb.

He continues on, setting a pace that just makes your brain go fuzzy and every nerve-ending sing in pleasure.

“Fuuuck.” He grunts out. “My cock drunk little omega. Pussy’s gripping me so damn tight baby. She doesn't want to let me go.”

You just nod and whisper out. “Please. Full.” Lost in a sea of sensation, your mind is not able to formulate more than two words in your current state, other than moans, whimpers and wails of pleasure. You’re flying a serotonin high you are not ready to come down from yet.

That was all the validation he needed to hear to stop holding back and pop his knot, releasing his seed deep into your waiting womb. Painting the walls white with rope after rope of his spend. 

Locked tight on his knot, time seemed to stand still, it felt like he was pouring everything he had into you, his cock gave it’s final twitch and he collapsed onto your back. Caging you in as he rains kisses along your shoulders.

That’s when you hear a round of applause come from the doorway. “GOTDAMN Girl! Now I get why he gets away with so much."

You burst into laughter at the situation. Unashamed over what they caught you doing in the comfort of your home. No one told her to let herself in with the key you gave her for emergencies.

“That was the hottest shit I have ever seen and we produce porn.” Juice blurts out.

“Hope you took some notes than, Juicy.” Jax snarks. “Now get the fuck out of my house so I can fully finish apologizing to my woman. Sorry Diamond but she’s staying in tonight.”

“Come on Juice.” Diamond turns to the still gawking biker. “Looks like your my date for tonight. I’m not wasting this outfit cus my girl is so easily dickmatized by her Alpha.”

She latches on to his Kutte and drags him back down the hall out of the house.

Jax knot has gone down enough at this point for him to tenderly slip out of you. A trail of his cum begins leaking down your thigh. He collects it on his fingers and pushes it back inside, making you moan and push back against him.

“I’m going to keep you full until I am fully forgiven for my stupidity.” He pulls his fingers out and places them before you face. You open your mouth and clean them of your combined essences. 

“I hope you carbo loaded at the Club then Alpha.” You tease. “You have a ways to go to remain out of the dog house.”

He lifts you up into his arms and walks into your bedroom. “I’ll be sure to do my worst.”

That night took a turn you could not have expected. You want to blame it on the hormone high but that would be a weak cop out when in reality you always would have said yes. 

While recovering from your escapades, enjoying all the lovely chemicals coursing through your veins, Jax asked you to be his old lady in every way. “You’re already my mate” He runs his fingers along the freshly renewed bite along your collarbone. “Let’s make this all the way official and head down to the courthouse and make it legal.”

“You’re serious.”

“100%”

“Okay. We’re going to need witnesses though.” You reply

“Easy. Op and Diamond.” He reaches for his phone and calls Op. You pick up yours to text D to meet you at the courthouse in the morning.

That’s how you found yourself in a sundress with a newly signed marriage license cuddled up with your now husband in the kitchen, waiting for Happy to show up to tattoo your ring finger. 

“Gemma is gonna flip when she finds out.” Opie states calmly as he takes a puff of his cigarette.

“Who cares what Gemma thinks.” You shrug. “She was always on team, not me, anyway. This was for us not her.”

“She’s just going to have to get over it whenever the news hits her.” Jax adds.

“She might have forgiven you Jackson. But your still on shit list. I’m not so easily swayed.” Diamond declares. “Though this move has given you some points. Making her glow like that will always get you points with me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Jax responds.

Twelve weeks after your Alpha’s apology and your subsequent nuptials thereafter, the club was dealing with some backlash from a new MC trying to make a name for themselves in the streets. Wanting to keep his men and their families safe, Jax has called a lockdown.

The compound and clubhouse was filled with families, children trying to find a way to deal with the boredom, running around making nuisances of themselves. The volume of so many voices alone was overwhelming, not to mention the haze of cigarette smoke that permeates the air. You’d been feeling queasy for days and the stench of bad perfume wafting off the crow eaters as you tried to make lunch had bile slowly rising up your throat.

“You doin okay there Sweetheart?” Gemma asks, watching you waver slightly on your feet.

“I’ll be fine.” You reply. “Just not feeling my best today. It’ll pass. I think I might go lay down for a bit though if I’m not needed here.”

“We got it Sug.” Luann blurts out before Gemma could give you the third degree. “These crow eaters need to learn to be useful for something other than sucking dick anyway.” 

“Thanks.” You give her a tight smile. “If you need any more help, please don't hesitate to come get me.” You rush out of the kitchen before anyone can object and head down the hall to Jax’s room. You’ve unbuttoned your tight jeans and are in the process of sliding the denim down your legs when the door opens. 

“Everything okay ‘mega?” Are the first words out of Jax’s mouth. “Op saw you booking it pretty fast out the kitchen.” He closes the door behind him, walking up to you as you're stepping out of your pants. 

“I’m fine now.” You wrap your arms around his shoulders. “Just needed to get away from the stench of Crow Eater.” 

He places his hands on your hips, pushing up your loose shirt, one of his old beat up SAM CROW’s, thumbs tracing your lower stomach. “They still given you a hard time with smells?” He asks.

“They are.” You nod your head. “It’s mainly the perfume that sets me off. Thankfully it’s supposed to ease up soon. I don’t think I could handle a full nine months of feeling like this.”

He lowers himself to his knees, where his head is in line with your non-existent bump. “Listen here pup. You’re already causing your mama problems and I can’t have that. I’mma need ya to calm your shit down or we’re both gonna be in for it when you get out.” You chuckle at his antics as he reprimands his progeny growing in your womb.

He has been nothing short of amazing since you found out last week that you were expecting your first pup. His apology sure left its mark. It’s a bit sooner than you both were expecting but it’s exciting nonetheless.

“Such a big strong Alpha, on his knees, pleading with his unborn child. Whatever shall I do with you.” You run your fingers through his hair as the door is slammed open. You both turn to find Gemma standing in the doorway, Opie behind her with a look of defeat on his face.

“Sorry guys. I caught her snooping near the door and before I could get a chance to shoo her away she gasped and threw open the door.” He shakes his head.

“You're pregnant?!” She hollers at you. “I knew something was up. That why you marked her?”

“Mom.” Jax stands up. “I’m gonna need ya to calm the fuck down. That’s not only my Omega, but my wife and the mother of your unborn grandchild, your screeching at. She’s already feeling like crap. I’m not about to have you stressing her out too. Either accept this and be happy or get out our faces.” He huffs.

Stunned not only that her son is speaking to her like this but that somehow he got married and didn't even inform her. “You got married? Was that before or after you knocked her up?”

“Watch it.” He growls. “Not that it is really any of your business but we just recently found out she was pregnant. Must have happened around our wedding day. Not that it matters. She was always going to be mine. Knew it from the moment her scent hit my nose.”

“Why didn't you tell me you were getting married?” She asks.

“Because I knew how you’d act and I didn't want you pulling any of your tricks.” Jax deadpans.

“I know what you think about me Gemma.” You speak up. “And you're wrong. I have only ever wanted what was best for your son. My Alpha. Now that we’ve started our own family, you can choose to let your misconceptions of me go and be a part of this little pups life when they arrive. Or you can double down and miss out on all the wonders a new life brings to a family. The decision is yours.” 

“Damn.” You hear Opie mutter out.

“If you think for one second I’m risking not being in my first grandbabies life, you're sorely mistaken honey.” Gemma states. “I’ll behave. I’d say welcome to the family but you’ve already been here awhile apparently.”

“See that wasn't that hard.” Jax teases before turning to you. “Can we tell everybody now. I think they all could use some good news.”

You sigh. “Fine. But can I get a nap first.” You negotiate. “I know they’ll want to celebrate and chit chat. If I don’t get some rest I may just snap at the first person to try and touch my belly.”

They all laugh. “Alright, little moon. We can take a nap.” He kisses your forehead, then turns to his mother. “Don’t say a word until we come out later. I mean it mom.”

“I’m not gonna blab.” She relents. “Wouldn’t want to deal with your wrath having upset your Omega. Been there with your father when I was pregnant with John. Wouldn’t wish that on anybody.”

“C’mon Gemma.” Opie pulls her out the room, slowly closing the door. “I’ll keep an eye out Prez.” 

“Thanks Op.” He pulls you close, giving you a loving kiss. “I love you Omega.”

“Love ya too Alpha.” You kiss him back, pulling him towards the bed where you had previously made a haphazard nest, so you could cuddle up and get some much needed rest with your perfect pain the ass Alpha.

[tinylilemrys]

Lonely In London

Relationship:

Trent Crimm/Ted Lasso

Additional Tags:

Angst and Romance | Romcommunism | Friends to Lovers | Romantic Comedy | Alternate Universe – Canon Divergence

Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Summary:

Henry, worried about how lonely his dad seems to be in London, writes into an advice podcast for some help. A podcast run by an ex-colleague of Trent's – one that he listens to religiously. If Trent falls a little for 'Lonely In London' because he reminds him of Ted, well that's just coincidence. An homage to romcommunism, largely based on 'Sleepless In Seattle' with a few others thrown in for good measure.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

CHAPTER 2

It's ridiculously early on a Wednesday morning when Ted next hears from the podcast.

Dear Ted Lasso (The Ted Lasso???)

Firstly, allow me to apologise if you were hoping to remain anonymous in our correspondence. Your full name is in the email address you used to email us, and I come from a journalism background so not much gets past me. Rest assured that if you are indeed the Manager of AFC Richmond (as the context clues from your letter seem to confirm) your secret is safe with us.

This is just to ask if you would be alright with us setting up a forwarding address for emails from our listeners. We weren't anticipating you being as popular with our listeners as you are, but our inbox is flooded at the moment and seeing as the whole format of our show is dependent on the emails we receive from our listeners, it's making it difficult for us to navigate our normal mail between all the mail addressed specifically to you.

So far, from what I've seen, all of these emails seem to be from lovely people would like to commiserate about that shared feeling of loneliness. That said I cannot guarantee that every email is going to be as innocent. You wouldn't believe the shit we get in our inbox sometimes. Please take this into account when making your decision.

All that's left to say is thank you again for your letter. The episode that featured it has been our most successful by quite a margin and has boosted our subscriber base substatially. I understand that this was likely not your intention when emailing us, but I wanted to thank you for it anyway.

Wishing you all the best for your future adventures in the world of romance. I'd throw my hat in the ring myself if I wasn't such a raging lesbian.

Kind regards, Lauren Miller Content Coordinator, Help I'm So Sad Podcast Breakneck Media Network

Ted reads and rereads the email chuckling each time. It's the best thing he's received for a while. Whoever this Lauren is, he think he'd enjoy shooting the shit with her over a pint. And maybe it's just a particular way journalists write, but some of the bite in her writing reminds him of Trent's.

Which reminds him – he's promised Henry he would do something.

Howdy! Glad to hear Anabelle's safely back in London with you! No pressure if you're busy or if you don't want to, but Henry's been asking when we can get ice-cream with the Crimms again, and I promised I'd ask. It would be nice to talk at any rate. I have some ideas about Richmond that I'd love to pick your brain about as someone who knows far more about this sport I find myself coaching than I do. Let me know. 🌻

He almost second guesses the sunflower, but it's a standard part of their correspondence now, ever since Trent first started reacting to his messages that way and Ted started sending them back. He doesn't know if it counts as flirting, but it's on the border of it enough that he doesn't mind taking the risk.

He's just about to respond to the email when his phone dings next to him.

Anabelle (and I) would love that. She hasn't stopped talking about Henry since last time. She's told me she thinks he's the coolest person ever. In so many words. Let me know when you're free. My schedule is astoundingly open at the moment.

Ted grins.

How about tomorrow around 3? I've heard it's going to be a scorcher of a day by your wilting English standards.

Nice try. You've told me before that it's only barely warmer there on average than it is here. You don't get to play the American superiority card on this one.

(3 tomorrow sounds lovely, though.)

Mr Crimm, practically everything in your royalty-having, tea-loving, swearing-as-affection little country is winning me over. At least let me cling to the one or two things that I still pretend to completely love about America. 🤠🦅

(Looking forward to it🌻)

He worries for a while that he's playing too far into the realm of flirting and scaring Trent off. But then his phone dings again.

Fair enough. It's a small price to pay to hold onto Richmond's secret weapon.

(Likewise. 🌻)

He grins like an idiot and turns back to his email. He's riding such a high now that he can't even be that worried about the whackadoos he might be letting into his inbox as he types his reply to Lauren.

Hi Lauren

Thank you for your discretion. I'm not as worried about myself as I am about the wellbeing of my club and my son, who's staying with me for the summer. So your silence on the matter of me writing in continues to be appreciated.

Please go ahead and set up the forwarding address. Y'all have been so kind to my son and me with the advice, the least I can do is make sure that your inbox isn't a nightmare to navigate.

Also, do y'all have a physical address? I would really love to come by and drop off something small to say thanks.

Hoping to hear from you soon.

Lonely In London (Ted Lasso if you're nasty)

He doesn't bother waiting for a response before setting to work baking a batch of shortbread. Worse comes to worst, he'll give the batch to Trent, who, although Ted knows will never admit it, has a soft spot for it as much as Anabelle does.

Maybe he'll set some aside for Trent anyway.

He's just considering the merits of making a second batch when Henry stumbles out from the bedroom adorable and sleep-tousled, clutching his favourite duck plushie.

"Hey, Bud," he says, throwing an arm around Henry as he comes to say good morning. "Did you sleep well?"

Henry nods and rubs his eyes.

"Are you making your Rebecca cookies?" he asks.

"Yes and no," Ted replies. "Yes, it's those cookies. No, they're not actually for Rebecca. I thought we could take a trip to the Help I'm So Sad studio to give them a batch to say thanks for all their kind advice. What do you think?"

"Yeah!" says Henry, suddenly wide awake. "Can I help?"

"Of course. Why don't you go shower and change quick and we'll make the next batch together?"

"Okay!" he says, dropping his toy on the counter and bounding off with all the enthusiasm of a pre-season Dani Rojas.

"Oh boy, Quackstopher, just wait till he hears we're also getting ice-cream with Trent and Anabelle again tomorrow," he says to the abandoned duck, loud enough that Henry will hear it.

"We are?" he says, racing back into the room.

"Tomorrow," Ted laughs. "Go get today going and we'll get cracking on making some for them too, okay?"

Henry gives a little excited squeal in the place of words and runs off to the bathroom.

For a small moment, Ted can't imagine why he ever needed to write into a show called Help I'm So Sad in the first place.

***

Not since the early days of fancying Shaun has Trent put this much thought into choosing an outfit for something that isn't even a date. But here he is, putting on and removing items of clothing. Changing into and out of jeans. Trying to figure out what provides the maximum amount of looking good while simultaneously looking like he didn't put much effort into putting it together.

"Belle-Belle," he says, turning around to the corner where Anabelle is playing a few of her Barbies to get her opinion on two of his shirts. "Should I wear the pink shirt or the blue one?"

"Pink!" says Anabelle, holding up her Barbie in what Trent assumes is an explanation if the hot pink dress is anything to go on.

"Well, that's on me for asking the four-year-old who doesn’t believe in any other colour, I guess," laughs Trent. "Thanks, Squish."

He wears the pink shirt and is rewarded an hour later with a massive moustachioed grin.

"Nice shirt, TC," says Ted, pulling him into a friendly hug. "The colour suits you."

"Thanks, Ted," he says, hoping that between the glare of the sun and Ted's dark glasses his blush is obscured enough that Ted doesn't notice it. "You're looking well yourself."

"Aw, shucks," says Ted. "Don't get me all flustered now."

Henry steps forward to shake his hand and hand over a box of what Trent, to his delight, suspects might be a batch of his famous shortbread.

"Hi, Teddy! Hi Henry!" says Anabelle excitedly and Ted honest-to-god gets down on his haunches to talk to her.

"Well hey there, always-swell Anabelle," he says. "How's Thursday been treating you so far?"

"Good," says Anabelle, suddenly shy. "I've brought my Barbies and Daddy says we're getting ice-cream."

"That we are," says Ted. "Just as soon as I figure out how I'm getting up again."

He makes a big show of not being able to get up despite Anabelle and Henry's best efforts to pull him to his feet, and Trent is too charmed to even be embarrassed by the number of people watching them. Or the old lady who mutters "sweet little family" a few feet away. Let them believe that this is his dorky partner. Trent should be so lucky.

He's hit with the realisation that he's so in love it almost physically hurts.

With one last hoist, Anabelle and Henry succeed in getting Ted to his feet and when Ted loses his balance a little in the momentum, Trent is only too happy to catch and steady him. Ted, to Trent's surprise, does actually look slightly flustered for a moment, before seemingly shaking it off

"And that's why in our business we say 'teamwork makes the dream work'," Ted laughs. "Good job, squad. High-fives all round."

After a round of high-fives, they make their way into the ice-cream parlour to place their orders.

"Sorry for causing a scene out there," says Ted softly. Now that his sunglasses are folded and hanging from the buttons of his polo shirt, Trent can see his expression is a little sheepish. "It's just, I know Henry enjoys that game. He's had a busy morning and he's a little tuckered out and grumpy to boot. I thought it would pull him out of his funk a little."

"Well, it seems to have done the trick," says Trent, smiling as he looks over at a nearby table where Henry and Anabelle are playing Barbies together. "Once again Ted Lasso's unconventional methods save the day."

"Now, Trent Crimm, that's not fair. You know I'm no match for your flattering prose." He winces as though he's over-spoken. "Sorry, I didn't mean to bring up your old job. Even in passing."

"It's okay to bring up my job, Ted," he says, with a gentle smile. "My time as a journalist may be at an end, but I couldn't stop being a writer if I tried."

"Fair enough," says Ted, looking relieved. "Have you given any thought to what you're going to do now?"

"As a matter of fact, I've just successfully pitched another book idea to my publisher," Trent replies.

"Well, hell, look at you go. Trent Crim, the unstoppable. What's it about?"

Trent might actually perish in the intensity of that smile.

"I was actually hoping to write about AFC Richmond." It's his turn to look sheepish, but Ted, if possible, looks even more delighted. "After all, it's a big year for you being back in the Premier League and all. And so many people, myself included, are rooting for you. Win or lose, it's sure to be a good story."

"That's a great idea," says Ted, looking genuinely delighted. "Keeley and Rebecca have been busting their butts trying to think of ways to boost our image. This is exactly the kind of thing they've been looking for."

"Yes, well, I'm still only going to write the truth. If it's a shocker of a season, I'll write it that way. Though maybe not as acerbically as I once did." says Trent, feeling somewhat self-conscious. "I don't think it will be a shocker of a season though."

"Oh yeah? How do you figure that?"

"Because in the years I've known you, Ted Lasso, I have yet to see you shy away from a challenge," says Trent. He's on the very knife's edge of plummeting into admitting everything he feels for this ridiculous, perfect man. "And I have yet to see a challenge that could best you."

He's said too much. He can't bring himself to look up now. Instead he watches as Ted scuffs a red trainer along the edge of a tile.

"Well, TC," he says in a voice barely above a whisper, "that's just about the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me.

"Don't get too used to it," says Trent, feeling the conversation getting away from him into dangerous waters. "Deep down I'm still the bitter old journalist I was a few months ago."

"And I wouldn't have you any other way."

There's no time to unpack that particular statement because it’s at that moment they make it to the front of the queue. By the time they've transported their orders to the table, the conversation has shifted from the tenuous place it was to Henry's one-on-one training with Jamie Tartt and how Roy Kent has even joined for a session or two. Trent wonders if Henry can even comprehend at his age how lucky he is to be getting this kind of input.

To balance out the conversation, Ted asks Anabelle about her time in Scotland and is rewarded with an entertaining but practically indecipherable four-year-old's story that Trent thinks might line up with the trip to see the highland cows Shaun told him about. Ted, to his credit, attempts to follow every word, asking follow-up questions that would make even the most hardened of journalists proud.

If Trent was under any illusions that he could spend time with Ted without his feelings growing more intense each time, today has put paid to that. Trent couldn't be more taken with him, and the idea that he might still fall deeper is as wonderful as it is terrifying.

He's allowed a moment of reprieve by Anabelle accidentally upending her tub of ice-cream and bursting into very noisy tears. Ted immediately volunteers to run and get both a wad of serviettes and a replacement for her. Henry, proving he's every bit his father's son, immediately offers Anabelle some of his ice-cream and her sobs abruptly stop. Trent watches the two of them fondly. They get along so well. It could be so easy. He just wishes Ted could see it the way he does.

Ted's phone chimes on the table where he's left it. In the years to come, Trent will swear he didn't mean to do it. He'll blame it on his almost automatic journalistic instincts. He'll claim it was a compulsion he was still in the process of working out of his system.

That doesn't change the fact that he looks down at Ted's phone in time to catch an email. An email that starts "Dear Lonely In London…"

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Trent's instincts are almost never wrong. It's how he got as far as he did as a journalist. It's what made him so good at sniffing out sources in other papers. He recognises people in writing the way other people recognise faces in a crowd.

He was always going to fall in love with Lonely In London because Lonely In London was always Ted Fucking Lasso.

And he's not stupid. The final pieces of the puzzle are fitting into place. The banter that's teetered on flirting all these years. The actual flirting they were doing right before placing their order today. The way it always stops short of actually going anywhere.

He's Ted's PR nightmare crush. And that, more than anything, is what's so fucked about this situation.

It takes all of his carefully honed deceptive skills to pretend to be calm for the rest of the afternoon, but it's murder. And Ted, Lonely In London Ted, blissfully unaware, joking, just-having-a-grand-day-out-with-the-kids Ted, has absolutely no idea how much more damage he's accidentally done to Trent's poor heart.

Trent grabs a huge glob of ice-cream with the shitty plastic spoon, hoping the inevitable headache will help distract him from his gloom for a while.

Because, really, what do you do when you've come so close to everything you've ever wanted, only for it still to be so far out of your reach?

Despair, thinks Trent, as the ice-cream hits.

Next Chapter

[fabbyf1]

Bestieeee your writing is like the benchmark. After reading your fics (after reading and reading each and every single one of your fics, I might say), I have become so picky when reading other lestappen fics just because your fics are always in the back of my mind. Not that other writers’ works aren’t great (i dont want to sound ungrateful) but your fics are just the best of the best.

I literally have notifications for your posts turned on so that I don’t miss. a. single. thing. you. write.

With that being said, I am very curious to know how you feel about other fics when you read them…are you picky when it comes to reading other people’s fics because you have developed a sense of how the “characters” should act in your head? Are you picky when it comes to certain things that you think a fic shouldn’t lack? And do you have favorites, if yes, can you suggest a few for me to read (lestappen, ofc, cuz I live for them at this point tbh)?

Keep being you babe and don’t ever stop! Can’t wait for WAP 2.0!!!!!!!!!

oh BESTIE.

WHAT A LITTLE CAN OF WORMS YOU'VE JUST OPENED.

first off, thank you so fucking much for your kind words. you are so sweet and i'm so honored that you love my fics so much. thank you for taking the time to tell me, it really makes my day.

now to answer your question: YES.

i have been reading and writing fanfiction since i was 12 years old (for reference, that was 2002, before some of yall were born.) the internet and fanfiction in general were MUCH different back then. but because i started at such a young age with such HORRRRRRIBLE fics, it has made me the pickiest bitch alive. i have STANDARDS.

i can open a fic and just by looking at it know if i want to read it or not. because if the formatting is not what i like? i honestly won't even try. if it's written by someone i know and love, i will read it no matter what it looks like, but if i just randomly click on a link? i will know within a second if i'm gonna like it or not.

(pov, you're bailee sending me a fic rec and you had to watch as i opened it and said "immediately no" because of how it was spaced. LMFAOOOOOO. sorry baby. i bet it was great.)

formatting aside, i think it has to be "realistic" to me. but that's also based on whatever reality the fic is set in. for example, if it's a space fic with aliens and tentacle porn, i want it to be Realistic tentacle porn. ya feel me? i want to be able to read it and think "ah yes. i can totally see it. if i had a tentacle cock, it would be feeling this."

...

so when i say realistic, i don't necessarily mean it by definition.

(also, lmfao, i realize how ridiculous that last paragraph was. viva la tentacle porn.)

if it's set in a canon timeline, i want to be able to read it and hear the voice of whoever is speaking. if i'm reading max verstappen but it doesn't sound like anything in my head and i can't hear his cute lil lisp and accent? then i can't read it.

as for the rest of your question, i wouldn't say i compare the characters to how i think they should be written. i like that other people's characterizations of them are different. i have such a clear vision of who they are in MY head that it's actually refreshing to read other people's works and have it be a different max and charles.

it's like a breath of fresh air to get the hell away from my characters and get me out of my head.

i honestly think that's why i don't... read a lot of lestappen... which is incredibly funny. because lestappen is all i think about and what i enjoy writing the most. but it's hard to step away from fics in my head, so when i do pick up a fic, it's usually a different pairing. i think one of my favorite pairings to read is galex because they're SOOOOO different from lestappen. (so please, send me all your galex recs. even though I've probably already read them.)

anyway. i could rant about this for days. fanfiction is my life. fanfiction is my favorite thing to talk about.

[thlayli-ra]

hi knightreigns anon back again 🎉 how do you think that knight, having been a loner for so long and very used to taking care of himself, would respond to aftercare (particularly from roman)? he seems to me like a guy who’s very “i can take care of myself” but lets face it… sometimes you Can’t. and roman wouldn’t let him.

oh and on a darker note- knight is alone, both by choice and as a result of him being kind of an asshole. would roman exploit that. how well would it work do you think

ANYWAY thank you for indulging me i will probably be back. i hope your day is going well !

Hello again! Back for more mindless dissecting of two lovely, beefy gentlemen, I see? Very well...

(Friendly reminder that this is all my own head cannons based mainly on my fanfictions)

To answer your question, would Knight accept aftercare from Roman? Yes, absolutely he would! Simply because he needs it. His back is all swollen and torn, he's exhausted and beaten down from not only their match but also their play in the Winner's Room and if Roman is offering to rub lotion on his wounds and lather him in praise, he's gonna take it.

Because first of all, Knight likes intimacy (in my fics, he's a big ol' slut!). He likes to bat his big, blue eyes, get fawned over like the prettiest girl at the ball then rock someone's world between the sheets. He has an ego, remember, or as he calls it, 'an undeniable kavorka'.

He is also not above using other people to meet his needs, which is a by-product of him being a loner. If he can't get something done by himself, he will find someone who can. For instance, in 'Break These Chains', he seduces and manipulates Bobby Lashley to help free him from Bray Wyat/Uncle Howdy's clutches.

What he struggles with, however, is the concept of altruism - doing something out of kindness, with no ulterior motive. He experiences this when Bobby find him in a extremely rare moment of vulnerability (Knight is the kind who never lets the mask slip) and it makes him question his motives for once;

"You were supposed to stick to the game plan. Seduce him, have him put down Wyatt and Howdy, maybe have a little fun along the way if you were lucky enough... You were never supposed to go and start having actual feelings for the guy."

Yet, by the end of the fic, Bobby lightly scolds Knight for smoking a cigar in his car and Knight's immediate reaction is 'oh well, guess that's it then'. That's just how the world works in his mind, you get what you need from somebody and move on (I have a sequel in mind that will challenge this mindset greatly for him!)

So going back to Roman, the after-care is purely transactional. Both men got what they wanted and leave it at that, then when Knight inevitably goes for Roman and his championship again, there's nothing personal between them.

As for your other query; would Roman exploit Knight's loner status?

Yes. Kinda???

Roman's at the top of the food chain in WWE. He's the Undisputed Champion, he's the Tribal Chief, he is untouchable. There's nothing he really needs from Knight. Like I said in my last post, he's more a toy for Roman to play with or take his frustrations out on.

Roman wouldn't so much exploit Knight's loneliness as expose it and use it as a way to mock him. Roman is surrounded by his Bloodline who does his every bidding. If he wants Knight for his Winner's Room, he'll send Jimmy and Solo to 'collect' him, he'll have them attack Knight in the ring so he can pick at the bones, he'll have them restrain him or wear him down, maybe even pass him around a bit. Oh and uh, Paul Heyman likes to watch... just saying! All just to highlight how easily it is to get to Knight since he's left himself wide open while also saying 'you can't touch me, look at what I have. You wish you had this!'.

The closest Knight has ever had to an ally (and look, he's right there in that gif👆) is John Cena, who's something of a mentor to Knight and eventually passes the torch to him, hence why Knight now wears an arm band as part of his gear. But what happened to Cena? Roman had Solo take him out! In a very specific way too - they targeted Cena's throat!

Silencing a prolific speaker? Taking one of his greatest weapons away from him? Hmmm... think there was another message there?

In the end, it was this exact advantage that won Roman the title match - he had his Bloodline to help him through while Knight had nobody in his corner. Perhaps one day, Knight will make a deeper connection with someone, somebody who is open to his friendship, has similar interests and similar goals. A similar catchphrase, even? Perhaps...?

[evelhak]

Ok Moon,

Can i ask you 15, 13, 28, 44 back?

Smootches!

Vesper

Thanks. 💙

15. Favourite movie

I'm not sure. Spirited Away, Brother Bear, Mona Lisa Smile, The Outsiders, Mamma Mia Here We Go Again, Frozen 2 and Little Women (1994) are certainly options. Generally if a movie makes me cry uncontrollably it's a candidate.

13. Biggest turn ons

Well, this is easy since nothing else turns me on really, except a love scene between two characters whose love I'm in love with. I'm ace but when it comes to fiction I'm sort of like demi because I need a deep emotional connection to the characters. I'm still not attracted to the characters though, it's just that I can then deeply emphatize when I have that connection, so whatever they feel I'm going to feel.

28. A description of the person I dislike the most

Well, if picking a favourite movie is difficult...

I'm just going to have to think of the person I currently have the most negative feelings towards, I think. I don't hate them, but I have never liked them very much personally, just tolerated them and treated them with the respect anyone deserves but to be honest I don't like them very much personally. This is time sensitive though, so they might not annoy me this much in the near future, they might improve or disappear from my life. They are someone who is two-faced in the sense that they are always putting up the sweetest, most harmless and innocent front. They appear so kind and vulnerable and weak in a sense that I think is supposed to be disarming and give the impression that they could never hurt a fly, like they are a baby bunny or a baby mouse or something. And that's true, they wouldn't actively harm anyone, I think. But they passively harm pretty much everyone I've seen with them, because they don't have the guts to stand up for themselves, much less another person, and they don't take responsibility for their actions, and especially their inaction. They constantly gaslight and invalidate other people's feelings because they don't want any drama, but they are actually the cause of most of that drama, because they regularly fail to communicate anything of importance and answer to the needs of the people around them and be truly present for others. The constant and blatant denying of other people's feelings is probably what gets to me the most about this person. And the way they do it, because they are always veiling their invalidation as kindness and reassurance, which makes people feel like it's impossible to get through to this person. They have frequent double standards. They "don't want to be a bother" but actually they want everything to go their way. They've mastered being so pitifully insecure and innocent that you have a hard time not feeling like a jerk if you judge them for anything. They do everything to appear like the most understanding and open minded person but they do it in the wrong place at the wrong time. If you express concerns about another person, they always take that person's side, saying meaningless shit like "oh everybody just needs to be understood" as if that excuses all behaviour, clearly moralizing you for having feelings about how someone treats you. They never say what they truly want, they act like they are being a good person by not making their wishes verbally known but they are actually disrespectful of other people's boundaries, because they stay close and wait for opportunities to get what they want anyway, they just always manage to do it in a way that they don't need to ask and the other person doesn't need to agree, they just wait for the opportunity where they get what they want as a by-product of what is happening, but still in a way that harms others and their relationships, it just conveniently shifts the blame away from this person. They have not truly grasped that being a good person isn't the same as "not actively doing anything wrong" because they are constantly causing harm by passively trying to get their way in the world. But I believe they are also in denial about this, and it is not calculated. It's just the only way they know how to get by. Their strategies are repulsive to me, but I don't hate their guts or anything, I would positively respond to any improvement from them, but I also don't want this underhanded emotional manipulation in my life. I'm all for direct and honest communication.

44. A random fact about anything

I just learned you can buy mermaid tails in the city closest to me and I want one.

[anemia-rp]

"I suppose that is true. Chemistry is an important part too." she agreed "Just because they bored you? Wow they must have been really boring people then." She really couldn't help but let out a small laugh at the comment. "I can't say that I have had sex because the other person was boring, but I did have sex one time because the movie we were watching was boring."

"But if I prove it, I might frighten you too much." she nodded while trying to keep a straight face. "I think I'm probably the cold shoulder type. I definitely can't yell at someone, but I can ignore someone like my life depended on it. That is unless it's someone I care for, then it's a bit harder to ignore them."

"What? Really?" she looked at him curiously as she took the shirt he offered her. "Okay, but I really can't promise that you will get it back. Especially if it's extra comfortable." she playfully warned as she pulled on the shirt, as it came to stop just above her knees. "Oh I bet I could even hide in here!"

She dramatically grabbed at her heart and gave a cheeky smile. "Cuddles are my weakness! That would for sure help me feel better!" Cuddles really could make Reno melt in an instant and make her feel better from almost anything. "It would be even better if you petted my hair too!"

"Well maybe you will get better at sharing your thoughts and feelings the more we spend time together. It is said that people's personalities rub off on each other the longer they are around each other." She smiled sweetly. "You definitely seem more softer with me, so that's a start right?"

It took a little while for the question to sink in as the fuzziness took a little while to leave Reno's mind. "I... maybe... kind of." she bit her lip some, thinking about it for a moment. "Maybe a lot of things, but maybe not anything you wanted." Even though she said this, it probably wouldn't take a lot of convincing to get her to go along with most things he wanted. He was able to make her speechless after all. She could feel a tingle run down her back at the way he touched along her collar bone. There was no denying that he could easily make her melt at the gentlest of touches.

"Sometimes it's just really hard to make me feel entertained 'cause the inner void gapes open more on some days", he shrugged. "And then I look for something that could possibly stimulate me." Now it was him who laughed. "No worries, the movies I'll pick will never be boring. Just scary probably."

He inhaled sharply. "Okay, getting ignored is probably one of the worst punishments, and isn't that feline as well? Guess cats are good at silent pouting just as well." A faux-sob erupted him. "I don't wanna get the silent treatment, I hope you've got some mercy on me?"

"That would be theft, hope you're aware of that", he mentioned but still with a smile, even more so when he could see how it fit onto her, his thumb rubbing his lower lip in a thoughtful manner. "Well, I could contemplate on gifting it to you indeed. If you wanna use it for sleeping and it helps you to sleep better especially. Then it would be for a good purpose anyway." He chuckled. "Cute, really."

"Guess I'm more cuddly myself than it seems to be", he approved. "But I could need a well versed teacher for cuddles." The smile that spread on his face now was a mixture between surprisingly innocent and cheeky, while he reached out to let a strand of her hair run through his fingers. "It's so soft, it's for sure a pleasure to touch."

"So guess that means I'm gonna turn into a lil' bunny one day, too. A black bunny. But to be true, it's mostly 'cause I feel my softer side is in good hands with you so I can embrace it. Since it's been here already before." He put his hand onto his own chest, too, right where his heart was.

He in fact liked this response. "That's good. I'm probably one to talk here, but it's definitely important you don't sacrifice everything for another person. Like your boundaries." He chuckled and pecked the tip of her nose. "It's good. I'm not into people who don't have an own will after all."

[mahleahmcmaster]

Gym Survey

Today, I scripted a survey for some of my Instagram followers as I knew a lot of my friends and mutuals attend the gym. These were some basic answers just so I could get an overall picture and know what kind of audience I needed to impress.

Starting off simple, I wanted to ask people how often they go to the gym. I got a variation of answers and I'm sure each person has different goals or responsibilities that reason for how often they go. I know not everyone has the time to go very often but also there are a lot of people that don't do weight training or endless exercise but they want to keep fit and healthy.

By asking people their gender I could also get a slight idea of if the gym is more male-dominated or if it's changed.

It was actually really nice to see how most of the responses I got were mostly women and how the gym community has definitely changed by making it a place for everyone and not just men. The gym isn't just about men getting muscly and strong and women doing cardio. It has changed massively. There are men and women in the weights section and doing cardio because we have all become more educated on the fact that weights do not make women bulky unless worked extremely hard for years and that cardio is good for everyone, it keeps you active which is scientifically proven for a better longer living life.

Since I am trying to produce an authentic magazine with real people and real reasons as to why they started the gym. I first gave them the option to pick 5 options regarding why they started for those who just wanted a quick answer. But for those who would like to expand or explain why, I gave them the option to write their own reasons.

These are the sorts of honest responses that I was looking for and I'm glad they were. I stated that it was an anonymous survey so I knew that would also give more people a reason to be honest knowing that they wouldn't get judged but they shouldn't worry anyway. There are so many reasons why people start and there's never a wrong or right answer. The black and white is that you are going, you are helping yourself stay active and healthy and so it doesn't matter why.

I also dived into asking people what kind of clothes they wore to the gym and why. I thought this was an interesting question as there are lots of different reasons. And I believe all that matters is that you're comfortable and respectful to the other people in the gym. It's horrible when you see men commenting on what a woman is wearing to the gym and it is usually when she is wearing tight clothes that show her figure and the reality is that they should mind their own business. If someone wants to wear something that shows their figure, why not? They've worked hard to build that body, who are you to judge that. Obviously wearing ridiculously revealing clothes that show things that should stay private, is a different situation but that is a rare sight.

I was really pleased with the amount of honest answers I got because I know that so many people would feel judged for their opinion even though they shouldn't. But because this was an anonymous survey, it gave people a lot more confidence to be open about their reasons. There's nothing wrong with wearing more tight fitting clothes to show off all the work that you've achieved as long as there is a line but I do think that most people know the line and I've rarely ever seen people going above and beyond. Then there's covering up a bit more and this is either to do with religious reasons or people just don't want to be showing themselves in more revealing clothes. I know personally it depends how I'm feeling that day. Body dysmorphia is such a struggle to so many people and some days you wake up and look at yourself and feel your best and if that's the case I'll wear my tight fitting clothes but this is such for me. For my own convenience. However, due to body dysmorphia there are days where I feel I'm not looking my best and I do just want to cover up and get on with my workout.

[echantedtoon]

Cameron x Fabian P2

The streets were almost empty as about everyone was still watching the now disappearing eclipse. She walked besides the giant fox, nervously looking around. "So........Which one is your house?," she asked. "That one there," he said lifting a paw to point at a small white house on the end of the street. "Oh...it looks lovely." He chuckled." Then you'll enjoy the inside." He lead the rest of the way down the street, and through his yard. Stopping at the door, he opened it and stepped aside to let her pass. "Please...ladies first." "Uh...thanks." She smiled nervously before walking in."....Oh, wow." It was....cozy. Which really surprised her since this was Fabian she was dealing with. All the furniture looked old, and the walls were painted a simple light blue. She looked behind her when she heard the door close. "Please, make yourself at home while I get the tea." He pointed towards a room. " The parlor is through there." "Oh...ok." She watched as he walked away before walking into said parlor. It was like the rest of the house except for the couches and the clock ticking away over a fireplace. She decided to sit on the left couch, closest to the fireplace. She looked around curiously until something caught. A small picture frame on the coffee table. Curious, she reached over to carefully pick it up. It held a picture of a grey anthropomorphic fox surrounded by five children. Four were other smaller foxes, while one was human. "I see you found my family photo." She looked up and saw Fabian standing there, expertly balancing a tray with tea ware on his head. He walked over and carefully tipped his head, making the tray slide onto the table with ease, before sitting on the couch across from her. "Who are they?" "That is my little girl, Clarissa, and her little ones." "You're a GRANDFATHER?!" "Looks can be deceiving. My kind ages slower than humans, so it's no big deal. But, I guess it would be shocking to someone like you." He picked up a cup. " Do you take sugar or honey?" "Sugar's fine." She carefully set the picture back down. "Would you like milk or lemon?" "No thank you. Just sugar." After mixing it a bit, he handed her a cup. "Thanks......Mmm. Smells good." "Its my own bland, so I cant guarantee the flavor." She hesitated before taking a sip. It tasted like apples with a slightly sour strawberry tang. Over all, it wasn't bad. "Wow. It's delicious." "Then you're lucky. Anyways...tell me. What is the human world like?" "Well...it's a lot like Safe Haven, except for the magical creatures and talking animals." "Really? How so?" They went into a deep conversation about the outside world, sipping their tea, and Fabian asking the occasional question. He grimaced when she told him about fox hunts and fur coats. Which she quickly changed the subject the education system and how she earned a degree in counseling. "Well congratulations. I bet your family was very proud of you," he stated politely. "Well....I wouldn't know really." She looked down at her cup. "Oh?....Why would that be?," he asked genuinely curious. "I.....never really knew my dad. And my mom got sick. Like....really....REALLY sick when I was little. I never experienced a happy family graduation." "I'm .....sorry. I wouldn't have said anything if I had known." "I-It's ok. You didn't know." She flinched when a paw touched her shoulder, and looked up to see Fabian's sympathetic expression. "....I can tell this troubles you, and you have my deepest apologies. If it's any comfort, you're not the only one with missing family at a young age." "....." She slowly smiled. "Thanks Fabian." He returned the smile before pulling his paw away. " You are most welcome........Although, there is one thing I've been wanting to ask. But, I'm starting to have second thoughts on asking it." "W-What is it?" "It's sort of personal." "I don't mind. I already told you some personal stuff." He hesitated.".......Alright, but you don't have to answer if you're not comfortable with it." She nodded. He drew a breath. "Why are you so afraid of us?"

[solarmusick]

@nothingbutland-blog you gotta understand, the material in Masques was really toned down from the immediately previous sets. saga had cards that could get stuff on the board ridiculously quickly, we're talking turn 1 wins in standard. Masques had free spells like "1/2 with protection from black" ... and they were contingent not only on things like what lands you controlled but also on what lands your opponent controlled (in the case of the previously quoted card, they need a swamp and you need a plains). sure, we had daze -- a free counterspell -- but there's nothing like force of will, a hard counter without any board requirements. you need an island to cast daze, you have to bounce it off of the table, and daze only adds 1 to the cost of the opponent's spell. the spellshapers were slow and costly. rebels did well, but none of their cards were really busted either on their own or in combination. they were just a new white weenie mechanic that ensured you wouldn't run out of creatures to play -- perhaps a necessary balancing force, since white is not known for its card draw ability. none of the free spells had the urza's block interactions with untapping land, which was a busted thing to have included in a block with tolarian academy and gaea's cradle. overall the casting contingencies were stricter and the power level was modest. (except maybe snuff out...love that card.) masques itself (prior to nemesis and prophecy) was especially cautious, and i feel that prophecy barely made an impact on the game. i can't remember the last time i saw someone playing a prophecy card other than rhystic study. you want all my lands to be tapped? weird ask, but ok...

the urza's and tempest blocks had been really experimental. masques was somewhat experimental too, in that they experimented with whether they could still print free cards without breaking the game, but it was incredibly restrained compared with the open-ended powerhouses printed in the urza's block (mind over matter, for instance: the price of discarding a card seems high, but urza's block had jaw-dropping draw capacity, so the card -- with no mana limits or other resource constraints -- became a powerhouse). tempest saw intruder alarm, which is still a lynchpin in what seems to be an infinite number of infinite combos. tempest block had dream halls ffs. that's a crazy card. there was nothing like that in masques. player moaned and complained about the drop in power level. now, were there cards in masques that could pull their weight or impress a player? sure -- conspiracy, for example; a card that did a lot of work in a set that cared about creature type. prophecy gave us some staples. but you can't judge the block by cards like rhystic study: overall, the rank and file cards were a little junky. it was stuff like this:

mind you, back then you took damage if you drew mana and didn't use it. and there were tons of cards in the set that cared about whether your lands were tapped at the end of your turn. but it was kind of a crappy thing to care about. why would i include something in my deck that required me to forego all things like counterspell or the chance of responding to a creature with haste before it attacks? i get that "making choices" is a virtue for r&d, but this was not a choice that made the game more fun. so it was a set with little to show when the final tallies were made. maybe they knew what they were doing when they picked that flavor text.

anyway, that's my essay on why the masques block was considered underpowered at the time. there are key cards that really work, and i'm sure they still see play in legacy/vintage, but there just weren't as many game-breaking single cards or combos, and that was the goal.

your mileage may vary

You have said that R&D made Mercadian Masque a "weak" block,but its a block with free spells, rebel, Brainstorm, spell shapers, if it was printed into Standard today it would probably be the most dominant set being played. How in R&D's eyes was the block made "weaker"?

It was significantly weaker than Urza's Saga Block. : )